El-Vador's Travels (40 page)

Feeling his leg, he straightened up painfully and hid
the injury from sight. Any previous injuries he'd accrued were soon
cured by a brief slumber and his own body's repair. That the crushing
of his leg hadn't been cured immediately and seemed just as painful
as before worried him.

'Well?' El-Vador asked the approaching figure, 'have you
spoken to your benevolent leader about tucking his tail between his
legs and fleeing the burrow?'

Salvarius offered him a tired look. 'The General has
been dealt with, he will be leaving the burrow on business I have
arranged for him this morning.'

El-Vador eyed him suspiciously, how had the man been so
capable of getting the Orcish General to leave his residence at a
moment's notice? Unless Salvarius himself had planned this some time
ago and simply needed an accomplice to pull it off.

'Here.' Salvarius said, chucking a large bundle at him
and forcing the Elf to catch it. 'You'll need these if you want to
make it through this alive.'

El-Vador stared at the hooded robes and donned them
while keeping a watchful gaze upon his would-be guide.

'None of the Orcs are aware of your presence here, I
wish to keep it that way.'

It was a reasonable precaution, and without further
preamble the man was off, presumably expecting El-Vador to follow in
his wake. He went after him slowly, drinking in every stone wall
while masking his limp from any unseen eyes. As he led, the Guard
captain continued to outline his plan.

'We are to travel into the very depths of this
underground burrow, to a place often unseen by even Orcish eyes. A
place where smoke and fire are prohibited and the very genesis of my
first thoughts of rebellion against this foul race.'

'Speak plainly.' El-Vador replied, his hand
involuntarily moving to his back to unsheathe his sword and instead
finding the cloak there.

Salvarius smirked, recognising the movement of the Elf's
arm and the conditions he had been placed in. 'I remind you once
again, if I had wanted to imprison you I have an entire burrow of
Orcs to call down upon you at any given moment should my own might of
arms not be enough. As for the place I am leading you to, I shall
allow it to speak for itself.'

The Elf shrugged and followed, he had little choice but
to trust this man now as they descended even deeper into the
darkness, Salvarius holding the torch aloft to brighten the walls
whilst entirely unaware that El-Vador could see just fine with his
enhanced eyesight.

They travelled through the deeper reaches of the Orcish
burrow for some time, the thick cloak that El-Vador wore did little
to ward off the chill that had slowly seeped into his bones. The
caves grew deeper and the ceiling gradually disappeared from even his
improved sight, making him idly wonder how the burrow could be
constructed above such hollow earth.

Eventually their endless trek ceased, none too soon for
El-Vador's injured leg, which he had long since given up disguising.
Salvarius had simply stopped for reasons unknown, potentially to
impart some new wisdom regarding his plan.

'Before we continue any further, it would be advisable
for me to explain what lies beyond.'

El-Vador peered at the far wall beyond them and spotted
a large metal door set into it that differed greatly in construction
from anything he had previously seen in the burrow. 'What is it that
lies beyond?'

'A large cache of an alchemical substance powerful
enough to eradicate the entirety of the burrow.'

The Elf raised an eyebrow. 'You expect me to believe
that such a destructive force was simply lying down here waiting to
be ignited?' he looked around him, as if expecting some kind of
ambush to set upon him. 'What stopped you from simply setting such a
substance alight prior to my arrival if you loathed the Orcs so
much?'

He caught something odd in the man's eyes as he turned
to face him then, but it was gone too quickly for him to determine
what.

'Prior to your fortunate arrival I had no opportunity to
do so without killing General Harg. Your destroying of supply wagons
between the burrows has caused quite the fuss, few have dared to
attack the Orcs directly in many years. The great council has called
for a session in the main burrow, General Harg will be travelling
there soon upon my advice. He wanted to send me as the representative
but I convinced him that the council would frown upon such actions
from the leader of a burrow that has been directly targeted.'

Realising that he had no choice but to accept the man's
story whether it held truth or not, El-Vador nodded. He could see
from the man's reaction that he knew he hadn't convinced the Elf of
anything.

'You're just going to have to trust me.' he said in
response to the caution still in his prisoner's eyes. 'I would not
detail such a plan to you if I was simply going to throw you into a
dungeon after.'

'You have your distraction.' El-Vador said. 'Why involve
me any further in this when you can now simply do everything
yourself?'

Salvarius smiled. 'I may be able to take this burrow
alone, but that would leave me stranded in Orcish lands with nothing
but my wits to serve me. Having a co-conspirator, even one that I do
not entirely trust, is still much better than working alone in such
lands.'

It was the crux of his argument and the Elf begrudgingly
had to admit that it made sense, there was nothing to lose in
Salvarius' mind by teaming up with him. El-Vador had already spared
his life once before, so he knew it was unlikely that the Elf would
stab him in the back now after aiding him. Not that men decked in
plate could be stabbed so easily.

Seeing that he had done enough to convince El-Vador not
to kill him, Salvarius paced forward and rapped on the large door
with his gauntlet.

A series of clicks began working through the inside of
the door, as if a thousand termites had all begun marching in unison
from the top to bottom. The result was the door swinging open with a
creak that echoed out into the cavern and bounced around the insides
of El-Vador's keen ears.

The inside of the chamber was darkness, Salvarius held
up his torch to further illuminate its contents, still completely
oblivious to El-Vador's own sight. The innards of this smaller
chamber were just as plain as the hard dirt and stone walls they had
travelled through before. For some reason El-Vador had been expecting
something more grandiose or significant to be hidden behind this
intricate door.

'The Orcs are a practical people.' Salvarius informed
him, answering his unspoken observation. 'They have little user for
décor or over-elaborate designs. Their lives are proven
through action rather than the congregation of things.'

El-Vador shrugged, he cared not what Salvarius thought
of his adopted people, and was more than a little suspicious that the
man had spoken positively of them while attempting to help destroy
them.

The smaller corridor wound onward into what would have
been darkness until eventually peeling off into a larger concourse
area upon which there were a myriad of benches stacked with
ingredients the likes of which El-Vador had never seen.

He had once been inside a small hut that had served as
the village's apothecary and herbalist, but it had been paltry
compared to the scale of the vast array of plant life and ground
powders that surrounded him now.

'Our chief herb man and co-conspirator resides within
this small sanctum. Under these walls are created mixtures that could
level armies.' He took a deep breath of air, pausing dramatically as
if soaking himself in the sensation of his tools for vengeance. 'Or
level burrows.'

It was the conviction in the man's voice that gave
El-Vador pause, there was no doubt or hesitation behind the words. He
really did mean them, but another question quickly rose in opposition
to Salvarius winning him over.

'Why would anyone so devoted to their craft choose to
destroy all that they have worked to build?'

A phlegm-riddled cough interrupted Salvarius' response,
followed by shaky footsteps that El-Vador's hearing had somehow
failed to pick up previously.

'Your friend asks too many damn questions, boy.'

It wasn't an Orc that spoke, and he was using the common
tongue rather than the rough variant of Orcish that El-Vador had
grown accustomed to. He was swathed in a robe much like the one
El-Vador had been given, though this one bore the stains and burn
marks of much use and did little to disguise the frail frame
underneath.

Affixing this newcomer with his rheumy gaze, the old man
muttered something inaudible to himself and then made his way to one
of the benches. 'I suppose you're here about the magical powder that
will make your problems go away?'

El-Vador opened his mouth to voice a question but
Salvarius cut in. 'Is the final batch prepared?'

A grunt of distaste was the only response for a while,
El-Vador was still wondering why there was another human down here in
the first place.

'I am old.' the man said angrily, 'it takes me more time
to do things properly and that's something I don't have much left
of.'

He hobbled over toward them and grasped Salvarius by his
arm, the stick-like fingers working their way under the plate. 'I can
feel it, eating away at me, but you will have your powder and the
Orcs will have what's coming to them.'

The guard Captain turned to El-Vador now, a sense of
purpose and expectancy about him now that his plans had been outlined
in full. 'Are you with us, Elf?'

El-Vador nodded silently, which brought an unnerving
toothless grin to the old man's face.

The large door on the far side of the room creaked open
and out stepped four heavily-armed Orcish guards wielding
wicked-looking axes and wearing the grim look of killers without
compunction.

The lead guard stepped forward and promptly lopped off
the head of the old man, spattering both Salvarius and El-Vador with
blood.

Tracing a finger down his face and staring at the blood
in mild distaste, Salvarius nodded at the guard, who saluted him in
return.

'Why?' the Elf asked of Salvarius' betrayal. 'You could
have taken me into custody at any point, why here? Why now?'

The man was silent as the guards divested the Elf of
both his robes and weapons, El-Vador felt no compelling power to
prevent them gifted by the voice and thus wasn't foolish enough to
resist their rough and questing hands. He offered Salvarius'
impassive face one final murderous glare before the swiftly
descending axe handle rendered him unconscious.

Captivity.
There are many forms, emotional or physical, that can be inflicted
upon an individual. I have experienced them all, I have no plans to
experience them again.

T
he cell was cold and damp, and
though the lack of illumination did not trouble El-Vador the general
lack of care did. They were not being overconfident in their
confining him with only two guards in the room, they simply knew that
he could offer them little resistance that wouldn't immediately be
known about by the Orcs beyond.

They cared not for his health or well-being and as a
result he had not slept or eaten since the day before arriving at the
burrow. In this subterranean place it was impossible to determine the
hour anyway, so he tried not to dwell on just how long he had been
here lest he drive himself mad.

The burning desire for freedom was what had pushed him,
it seemed an eternity ago that he had stood in defiance of the Orcs
and their occupation. Now he was in the heart of their society and
was being trampled upon once more. The rage blossomed within him but
the voice was silent yet again, implying that now was not the time to
strike back at his captors.

The tiredness made his head muggy and unresponsive, he
couldn't think of a way to get himself out of this impossible
situation and the lack of aid was beginning to cause a mild panic to
build within him. He had no doubt that the double-cross by Salvarius
would result in his death, from execution or eternal imprisonment. He
needed to do something, before his fate was taken out of his hands
entirely.

A knock sounded on the outer door, which in turn led to
a brief discussion between the answering guard and this new arrival
that El-Vador couldn't quite make out. The door was flung open and
Salvarius marched in, his eyes constantly resting on the cage that
the Elf resided in as he held aloft what seemed a customary torch in
these dark conditions.

'Come to gloat about how you suckered me into
believing?' El-Vador snapped at him, surprised at the wince the tone
elicited from the man.

Motioning to the guards, he was left in silence with his
prisoner so that his words may be heard by no other.

'I am not here to gloat.' the man began saying, then
stopped to stare into middle-distance, as if searching for the right
words. 'The things that I said to you, they were all true. The
meaning behind them was heartfelt, there was not a single word that I
did not believe with all of my heart.'