Douglas Niles: Winterheim

“Hey, you’re a handsome one,” she said warmly. “A little skinny-and with those big eyes! Not like any man I’ve seen before.”

Somehow he found himself trusting her. He tilted back his hood just enough to show his sole, distinctively pointed ear. “Have you ever seen an elf before?” he asked.

She shook her head, the smile growing broad. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Moreen spoke up. “How was Strongwind when he got here? Was he hurt?”

Tildy shrugged. Kerrick wondered if there was an edge to her voice when she replied, speaking directly to Moreen, “He was bruised and hungry. Gave himself up to capture in order to help a woman, he said … he thought she died on Dracoheim, and he was pretty broken up about it.”

Moreen’s face went pale. “She … she didn’t die,” she said dully.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” The slave woman nodded appraisingly. “Mistress of Brackenrock and all that. Why did you come here?”

“Because I couldn’t let Strongwind stay here, any more than he could let me go into Castle Dracoheim without his protection.”

“Well, you sure caused a ruckus. There are patrols all over the place, and I hear that the queen is fit to be roasted. She’ll just as soon skin a human as look at him when she gets into these kind of moods.”

“Do you know where Strongwind is now?” Moreen demanded, her face growing pale.

“Yes, I think I do.” Tildy Trew nodded decisively. “He was locked in the same cell with your friends-the dungeon, down on the harbor level.”

“Can you take us there?” asked Moreen urgently.

Tildy Trew nodded again and gestured for them to follow. The slave woman led them along the ramping passageway until they once again came out on one of the broad floors in the center of Winterheim. There were a hundred ogres walking about within a stone’s throw of their position, but Kerrick noticed that many humans were dressed in the same type of robe in which he and Moreen were disguised. He kept his head low and followed Tildy and Tookie to the edge of the vast central atrium.

In a few minutes they were crossing a wide street. The slave woman pointed downward as Kerrick and Moreen looked in amazement.

From here he could see down into the central harbor and up through the rings of ascending levels. Several of the connecting ramps were visible, and Tildy pointed to one of those. They saw a file of red-coated guards marching along. The company turned in unison to start climbing a wide stairway that led toward a landing with a single, closed metal gate.

“That’s a company of grenadiers, the king’s own regiment. Like I said, your arrival has been noticed and created a bit of a stir.”

Even as they watched, more guards emerged from through a gate that opened atop the wide stairway. Kerrick caught a glimpse of Bruni’s black hair amidst the golden helmets of the ogre guards. Moments later the gate slammed shut, with four burly guards facing down the stairs.

“Seems like she’s being taken up to the palace,” Tildy said, with a worried shake of her head. “Not much chance of us getting up there. They’re sure to search every slave going anywhere near the Royal Level.”

“What about Strongwind?” asked the chiefwoman.

“He might still be down there. Worth a look, anyway.”

“Then let’s get into the dungeon, if we can,” Moreen said.

“All right,” Tildy said with another sharp look at the chiefwoman. “I know where we can get some help. We might be able to get him out, and I guess he’ll be very glad to see you.”

Captain Verra ordered his grenadiers to form close ranks. At least his troops moved with alacrity. He had been ordered to send the two prisoners up to the royal level, and the captain had decided to send three dozen ogres as an escort. That left him dangerously thin down here.

He glanced about at the lumberyard, concerned to see all those slaves moving around and the relative paucity of guards. He tried to think: Where could he get some reinforcements? In agitation, his eyes roamed around the harbor and market levels … past the Seagate garrison, the various factories, the royal dungeon.…

There! He knew that some thirty or forty ogres remained in reserve on the dungeon detail. Most likely they were eating and gambling in the barracks room, deep within the bedrock of the mountainside.

The duty staff of at least a dozen turnkeys was more than enough to beat back any attempt by the prisoners to escape. Those other ogres were simply being wasted now when their value was acute.

Verra gave the orders, dispatching an eager sergeant to carry them out. He watched in satisfaction as the extra guards trooped out of the dungeon, some of them casting surly glances in his direction but all of them obeying his orders. They carried their weapons and their armor over to the lumberyard, and went to join the overseers on duty there.

Verra was still nervous. He couldn’t stand still, so he lumbered down the steps to the docks. He would go over to the Seagate slave warren and make sure that everything was secure there.

Tildy Trew rejoined Kerrick and Moreen on the plaza near the waterfront, where she had left them to wait for her a few minutes earlier. She was joined by six strapping men, each carrying a stout wooden pry bar-tools Kerrick saw that could quickly be converted to weapons.

“These are some friends of mine taking a little time off from work in the lumber yard. That’s the entry to the dungeons,” Tildy said, nodding at a dark cavern mouth leading away from the waterfront. “We caught a break. They just sent all the extra guards over to the lumber yard, to keep an eye on the slaves there. The bad news is that Strongwind Whalebone, as well as your friend, Bruni, have been taken out of the dungeon. Seems they’re on their way up to see the king. Your other companion, One-Tooth, is still in there, together with Black Mike and a few other rebels who didn’t have the sense to keep out of the queen’s clutches.”

The slave woman shook her head wonderingly and continued. “They’re accusing Strongwind of killing his mistress, a noble ogress.”

“Why would he do that?” Moreen asked.

Tildy shook her head. “He wouldn’t, I think. His mistress was hated by Queen Stariz, and I suspect that she simply found a way to eliminate her rival and blame it on someone else.”

“What about Tookie?” Kerrick asked.

“She wanted to come along, but I insisted that she stay safely behind in the shipyard,” Tildy said. “Things might get a little rough.” She looked at the faint outlines of the swords that the chiefwoman and elf wore under their robes. “Sure hope you know how to use those things.”

They were sauntering casually across the plaza as they talked. Kerrick’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, which was now concealed under his robe. He saw Moreen doing the same thing.

As they drew near to the two guards outside the dungeon entrance the pair of ogres stood straight and leaned with their halberds to form a giant X across the passage. “Go away,” one of them growled, “or come with an officer.”

“I have a pass,” Kerrick said, stepping forward. His sword was in his hand in that instant, and he stabbed, feeling cold and vicious as he pierced the heart of one of the guards. The other gaped, then toppled as two of Tildy’s slaves bashed him with their poles. Moreen’s blade put an end to him before he could utter a warning.

“No time to waste, now! Go!” cried Tildy, standing back as the elf led the rescuers into the tunnel.

They ran down a long, dark passageway and burst into a room, surprising a half dozen ogres at a table where they were gambling and drinking. The elf dropped two with rapid thrusts, vaguely aware that his companions were slaying the others.