Douglas Niles - Winterheim

Abruptly the bats winged away in unison, flying low across the serene cavern, then flapping briskly, gaining altitude. Most rose quickly, though one lagged behind the others, clearly straining to keep up. He watched them fly away, vanishing in the direction of Winterheim. The silence was eerie and oppressive, and at last he decided to risk the old woman’s wrath.

“Dinekki?” he called.

There was no reply. Quickly he leaped up to the edge of the cliff, fearing that the old woman had come to some harm.

The lip of the precipice was empty. Frantically he looked down, afraid that perhaps Dinekki had fallen, but there was no sign of the woman or of her white shawl on the mossy rocks below.

Only then did he understand, looking toward the place where the bats had flown. Dinekki was not here … not on the rocks … the answer was clear.

She had flown away with the bats.

Stariz brought Garnet Dane to her private sanctum, the small, incense-sweet room behind the great temple sanctuary. She saw by his tight smile that he was pleased with himself, and she decided to allow him this small pleasure.

Indeed, he had done well.

“The Lady Thraid is dead,” she remarked matter-of-factly. “You have performed the task that I required of you adequately.”

“Thank you, gracious queen,” said the man, pressing his face to the floor.

“Did you enlist your female accomplice in the act?”

She was curious about this human woman Garnet Dane had alluded to, wondering who this person was who could perform such bloodletting and yet remain concealed among the ranks of her slave kind. Sooner or later, the queen would have to learn her identity, for she could prove to be very useful.

“Indeed, my queen. She had better access to the lady, so it was she who wielded the knife. She serves you willingly and loyally.”

“I shall need the use of her again soon. I will trust that she will serve as well as she did in the matter of the Lady Thraid,” said the high priestess.

“Yes, Majesty.” Garnet Dane’s eyes were bright with the lust for another killing. “How may we serve you this time?”

“There is an elf loose in the city. He will undoubtedly try to link up with the rebellious elements among the slaves. I do not know where he is, though it seems he entered from the Moongarden.”

“I will have all of my ears alert, looking for any word or sign of such an intruder,” said the human, groveling. “I will report at once, should anything come to my-”

“Fool!” she snapped, relishing the involuntary flinch in the man’s craven frame. “I do not seek information. As soon as you or she finds him, make sure that he dies!”

Here-you can hide for a time, while I try to find out where the ogres are taking your friends,” Tookie said, pushing open a door and leading Moreen and Kerrick into a small, dark room. Moreen was out of breath, her heart was pounding, and her palms were slick with sweat.

“What is this place?” asked the elf, sniffing cautiously.

“Well, it used to be a brewery for warqat,” the slave girl replied. “Now I think they just store the barley and stuff in here. Nobody comes around this way any more, so you two should be safe here for enough time for me to go and look for Tildy Trew. She’s the one who will probably know where your friends are being taken. She knows a lot for a slave. Wait for me right here, okay? I’ll see if I can get her or someone else to help.”

Moreen knelt and took the child by the shoulders, looking into her tear-stained face. “You have been very brave, and you’ve helped us a lot. That big ogre came after us because we fought him two days before we met you. You have to help us a little longer, but I’m sorry, for getting you into danger.”

“Danger?” the girl snorted. “This is the most fun I’ve had in my whole life! Don’t worry. We’ll find where your friends are … and … and do something!”

“You are a great friend,” Kerrick said, touching her gently on the shoulder, “and Moreen is right, you are very, very brave. We owe you a lot already, and we thank you.”

A moment later Tookie had slipped out through the storeroom door, leaving the elf and the chiefwoman in the large, shadowy chamber.

“I’m frightened,” Moreen found herself saying, surprised at her own admission. “I can’t stand waiting here! We have to try and do something!” She paced a short distance, turned back in agitation, then glared around at their surroundings.

“I’m frightened too,” replied Kerrick. “Seems like a pretty natural reaction to our situation, wouldn’t you say? Let’s have a look around and take our mind off our troubles.”

To Moreen the chamber looked almost midnight dark, though Kerrick assured her that his elf eyes could make out some details. He removed one of the torches from their equipment basket and ignited it, sending flickering yellow illumination throughout the cavernous room.

They found several stacks of massive kegs and judged them to be empty by the hollow sounds when they tapped the sides. Much of the floor was covered in a layer of tangled straw, and several alcoves with raised floors branched into different directions from the three interior walls.

“You take the torch,” Kerrick said. “Check out those rooms over there. I’ll have a look on the other side.”

The chiefwoman was reluctant to separate from her old friend, but she agreed and investigated the first two alcoves. These seemed like additional storage rooms, smelling dank, musty, and vaguely sweet. A few crates and barrels were stacked about, and there was a heavy layer of dust over everything. She found no sign of a doorway or any connecting passage in either place.

Carrying her torch back into the main room, she was startled to hear soft voices coming from behind one of the stacks. She crept forward, trembling, hoping that it was only Tookie coming back. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, ready to attack if this was a threat.

She recognized the elf’s voice, but he didn’t sound frightened or agitated. Leaning closer, she tried to hear what he was saying.

“… hiding in here, for now, but we’ve got to do something. We’re both going to go crazy if we just have to sit around and wait!” the elf declared.

“Well, then find something useful to do,” replied the second voice, with a sense of mild exasperation.

The tone was childlike, but it wasn’t Tookie. Instead, it was male, and though high-pitched it sounded vaguely mature.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Kerrick declared sharply.

Moreen came around the stack, holding up the torch. Kerrick chuckled shyly as he saw her and shook his head apologetically. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t find anything. Then, I guess the dark just kind of got to me-I was having a quiet conversation with my imaginary friend.”

“Coraltop Netfisher?” the chiefwoman said in awe, looking wide-eyed into the shadows past the elf.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” the elf replied. “I know it makes me seem kind of crazy … what is it?” he asked, seeing her expression of amazement.

“If he’s imaginary,” she replied quietly, “why can I see him?”

Captain Verra paced restlessly on the edge of the market, looking at the tangle of docks. Crates and barrels were stacked up, great lengths of rope coiled, and all manner of nets and oars piled haphazardly here and there. In time of peace they were useful for all manner of nautical tasks, but he had no care for that.

Right now, each of them looked like a potential hiding place for an elf intruder, or any number of rebellious slaves.

Farther along the wharf long racks of fish hung to dry over beds of charcoal that had yet to be ignited. The sawmill hummed in the lumberyard as slave labor turned the heavy gears, whirling the blade through one after another log of fresh pine, splitting the timbers into boards. Stacks of wood were growing in the vast storage yards, but all he could thnk of was the slaves moving to and fro. He wondered what they were planning, feeling.