Child Of Storms (Volume 1) (57 page)

             
“I concur,” Flatfoot said. “I wouldn’t mind spending a night at the keep, you can be sure, but Jorn’s right. The sooner we’re done with all of this, the better.”

             
“Whatever the case,” Willock said. “We should venture no deeper into the moors. It is a place of dark wizards. I have told you of the strange goings-on, have I not?”

             
“Ronias?” Jorn said, looking towards the elf. The wizard was laying on his back on the grass, his eyes closed.

             
“You wish to know what
I
think?” Ronias sneered. “
I
think that
I
have had enough of this quest and want no further delays! We keep going towards the Teeth so that
I
may be done with all of this business once and for all. If we go back to Glammonfore Keep, I am staying there and Braemorgan and all of you can be damned!”

             
“Well. There you have it,” Flatfoot said. He leaned over the fire, studying the roasting deer. It would be done in a very few minutes, which was well. After the day he’d had, he was starving.

_____

             
They ate their fill of venison as the sun fell down beneath the mountains behind them. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to smoky perfection over the burning pieces of wood. They cooked the kidneys and liver separately, roasting them atop sticks thrust into the fire. Famished by days of meager meals amid the marshes, they gorged themselves until the deer’s bones were picked clean.

             
“We’ve been begging you for hours to tell us what happened to you last night, Sal,” Jorn said, tossing aside a rib bone and leaning back. For the first time in days, he felt sated. He sprinkled a little
Flannae
into a little mug of hot water heating over the fire as he spoke. “You’ve been telling us you couldn’t tell such a tale on an empty stomach. Well, are you full?”

             
“Oh, yes,” Flatfoot said. “I just wish I had a bit of tobacco for my pipe. That’s how I got myself into the whole bloody mess, actually.”

             
“Wha’ I have to know, laddie,” Ironhelm said, swallowing down one last bite of venison. “Is how one minute we see you tied up and awaiting death and the next moment your hands are free and sticking a knife in tha’ damned monster shaman. Aye, tha’ would be my first question.”

             
“I will get to that in due course,” the gnome said, chuckling. “Let me tell you the full tale first. Surely, after all I have endured, you will not begrudge me the small privilege of telling my story in my own manner. Let’s see; where to begin? Jorn went to bed sometime well after midnight last night, as I recall, suggesting I wake one of you in his place. I said I would do so, and fully meant to. But after he lay down I decided to wait just a moment before bothering Sir Ailric. I remembered just then that I had a bit of tobacco left in one of the pockets of my pack and thought it would be nice to smoke it in quiet right then. Oh, I should have saved it perhaps until after the vessel was in our hands but once I started thinking about the little pouch of the stuff sitting in the bottom of my pack I just couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

             
“Ach. And you wouldn’t have to share it with anyone else if you smoked it while everyone else was asleep, would you laddie? Aye, tis true,” Ironhelm said.

             
“Why, I suppose that
is
true. Now, you will recall that we did not light a fire last evening because we were concerned that whatever was beating those war drums would see us. Hmm…I suppose those were probably Saurians after all, weren’t they? You were quite correct, Durm. Congratulations. Whatever the case, Ronias’ magical knife was stuck into the side of the tree so we had just enough light not to be tripping all over each other but not so much as to attract unwanted attention.  I was most thoroughly vexed as a consequence, staring at my pipe in the dark wondering how to light it. Fortunately, I had this small pouch in my pack filled with these wonderful tiny red pellets. I keep them on hand at home to save me the trouble of lighting my pipe the old-fashioned way. A wizard in Barter’s Crossing sells them. They are marvelous things, really. All you do is take one and drop it on the tobacco. A second later it flares up and your pipe is lit.”

             
“Elementary magic,” Ronias said with a sneer. “Any third-rate trickster can construct such items.”

             
“Be that as it may, they
are
rather useful. I used one of them to light my pipe, and then strolled a very short distance from the camp but still inside Ronias’ insect barrier. I stood there in the near-darkness, puffing away for a few minutes and feeling really quite relaxed, at least considering the surroundings. I don’t know how they came up on me so quietly, especially since they are so large and what not. All I can surmise about what happened next is that something struck me in the head and knocked me right out because the next thing I knew one of those awful tusked beasts had me tied up and was lifting me over its shoulder. In the darkness I could see several of them, and they were leading the horses away along with yours truly. One of them carried a small, primitive little lantern in front of him. I could see the glow of Ronias’ knife some distance away, maybe a hundred feet or so. It took me a moment to get my wits about me and when I did I cried out for help. The filthy monster clapped his hairy paw over my mouth and they all lumbered off into the swamps at a most rapid pace. I thought I heard Jorn’s voice as they were dragging me off but I could only hope it wasn’t just my ears fooling me.”

             
“I kept looking back into the dark swamp, praying that you were following that bloody light and had not given up on me. The foul monsters never stopped to rest the entire time, and I grew quite weary of it all. Around daybreak they brought me to those awful ruins. What an ordeal! Hundreds of the bloody beasts turned out to see me, barking and howling and poking at me. Ugh. It is all most upsetting now to recall! You cannot imagine the stench, or the filth. They’ve no sense of hygiene, not to mention decent manners! None, whatsoever! They threw me in a filthy pit with the Saurian prisoners. I was terrified and wondering what the Saurians would do to me, but they barely looked up when I arrived.  It was almost like they were half asleep. Looking closer, I noticed empty wooden bowls next to each of them. I leaned over one bowl, sniffing it. The odor was still pungent and medicinal. I inhaled deeply, and felt a little lightheaded.”

             
“They were drugged,” Ironhelm said. “Aye.”

             
“There would be many plants in such a place as the Nor Marshes from which such a stupefying tea could be made,” Ronias added.

             
“I’m not sure how they got the Saurians to drink the tea,” Flatfoot went on. “But, then again, no one ever said that Saurians were the brightest creatures around. When a bowl of black-colored and foul-smelling broth was later thrust in front of me, I pretended to drink it and so kept my wits about me. I was able to study those Saurians quite closely. You know, they let Saurian traders in Barter’s Crossing from time to time and I’ve seen them there on plenty of occasions as well as in combat more than once, but these Saurians were different. They each had red stripes tattooed on their cheeks.”

             
“Shamans,” Jorn said. “Now it makes more sense.”

             
“What does?” Ailric said.

             
“The Saurian attack during broad daylight,” Jorn explained. “Saurians always attack under cover of darkness unless they’ve no other choice. Those swampbeasts captured the Saurian high priests and were going to kill them. The Saurian attack was a rescue attempt. That also explains the attack on the far end of the ruins, across that deep stream. It never stood a chance, and I would wager the Saurians knew it.”

             
“Why launch an attack they knew to be doomed?” Flatfoot said.

             
“The idea was to divert the swampbeasts from the main attack,” Jorn explained. “Say fifty of the swampbeasts were held-up on the far side of the ruins fighting off the second attack. That’s fifty less swampbeasts by the temple that you have to fight through to get to your priests. It’s a good strategy, if you don’t care about throwing away the lives of your own troops. I wonder who eventually won.”

             
“Ach. To hell with both of them,” Ironhelm said.

             
“If I may resume my tale,” Flatfoot said. “We were not in the pit very long before a pair of the beasts showed up and dragged us all out. I pretended to be drugged along with the Saurians, and the horrid brutes seemed fooled.”

             
“So were we,” Jorn said, nodding.

“I put on a bloody good performance, didn’t I? They led us out in front of the temple and, amid all sorts of clamor, the swampbeast high priest proceeded to slowly cut out the hearts of the Saurians. Each time, he would let the bodies roll down the stairs towards the rabble below. It was a disgusting scene, I have to tell you. They pushed and clawed at each other in their madness to get a piece of each Saurian. I sat there atop the stairs watching it all, the high priest holding the still-beating black heart high above his head. Then I watched the bodies torn limb from limb and devoured right before my eyes. In spite of the horror all around me, a plan of escape gradually came into my mind. I had already cut through my bonds and had my knife in hand; my captors, of course, were unaware of any of that. A convenient gnome-sized escape tunnel would have been most helpful at that point but, alas, none were available. What was available, however, was the next best thing. I noticed the Guardian-built aqueduct. I also noticed the water steadily pouring out of it. My escape route had presented itself, after all. Remember that tree on the side of the temple which Ronias blasted? You may also recall that a few of its more slender branches reached right out over the aqueduct. I knew that if I could only reach that tree than I would stand a most excellent chance of escaping. I could scramble up its trunk, run out over one of the limbs, and jump right down onto the aqueduct. I could be off and running along the top of it before the monsters even knew what had happened. It would be the last thing they would expect! I doubt very much the lumbering things could even fit atop the aqueduct. At best they could feebly pursue me along the ground while I dashed along the top completely unhindered. They moved rather quickly through the swamps, as you know, but not nearly so fast as one could run along open ground. I would have surely escaped. Making it here, I would just assume you thought me dead and, having no means of finding you, would sneak my way back through the Glammonfore Gap. I would’ve managed it, I’m sure. A solid chance at a miraculous escape was thus before me. Timing was everything, however. When they dragged me forward and the
high priest raised his knife. I stabbed him in the hip, right where it would immobilize him. I was about to make my dash for the aqueduct and get away when you showed up.”

             
“Hold a moment, laddie,” Ironhelm said. “How did you undo your bonds?”

             
“And where did that knife come from?” Ailric added.

             
“Removing my bonds was the easy part,” Flatfoot said, smiling. He savored their interest in his tale, pausing dramatically. “Gentleman…you must understand that in my former occupation I ran a frequent risk of capture by persons who are, shall we say, unsympathetic to my line of work. In order to counter this threat, I have designed certain, um, counter strategies. Allow me to demonstrate”

             
The gnome removed his belt, holding it up in front of him.

             
“This, by all appearances, is but a normal belt,” he said. “It is even a bit shabby, not the kind of belt one would normally take the slightest notice of. The truth of the matter, however, is far different. For one thing, twenty Vandorian gold crowns are sewn within, as well as a small assortment of various gemstones. Even if I were robbed, no bandit is ever likely to ask for it. I would happily hand over my purse with all courtesy, secure in the knowledge that I have plenty of resources around my waist to finish my journey without care. One must also be careful to hand over enough coin so as not to anger a bandit, but not to hand over so many that you contradict your impoverished appearance and thus arouse his suspicion.”

             
“You’ve put far too much thought into this, laddie,” Ironhelm said.

“That is not all there is to this belt, either. There is a small wire hidden here for garroting prison guards if need be, and a few small hooks and shims which do a rather good job of opening locks were I ever chained up. I’ve practiced such escapes hundreds of times and now it’s really quite easy for me. The real surprise in the belt, however, is even handier in certain tight situations. Twist it in the middle exactly this way and…” With a quick twist of the belt, a small blade no larger that Flatfoot’s thumb popped straight up. “It is razor sharp, I assure you, forged of the finest Gnomish steel. Whenever one is captured, one’s hands are invariably tied behind one with some kind of rope. With this little blade can saw right through the typical rope in mere seconds. In the case of the swampbeasts they used some kind of dried vines which presented no obstacle.”