T Lain - City of Fire

“Vernon…” the innkeeper gasped. He’d watched Regdar from behind the door. “The blacksmith… oh, gods! How could you—”

Eoghan’s accusatory tone cut off as Regdar turned toward him, glaring with anger.

“He’s dead,” Regdar said flatly. “We can’t help him, and his corpse is no use to us. We’ve got to figure a way out of this. Then you can mourn him,” the fighter added a little more softly.

Eoghan nodded and deflated slightly.

“I’m going out there!” Early shouted. “We can fight them!”

“You wouldn’t get near them,” Alhandra said. “They all have bows, and we can barely see them.”

“I can see them,” Ian said, but he didn’t look happy about the idea.

“I can, too,” Krusk added. Early looked at the half-orc in surprise. “No more running. I fight.”

Early nodded slowly and said, “All right, then! Let’s go.”

“No,” Regdar said. He still stood near the closed door, and he barred their path. “This isn’t the way.”

Alhandra stepped up to support the fighter, and Naull edged around to one side.

“Then what is the way?” Early asked angrily. “Do you have another plan?”

Regdar didn’t answer immediately.

“Are you so eager to die, Early?” Naull asked sarcastically.

Early whirled toward her with a snarl but Alhandra stepped between them.

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. Her tone made Early stop and gape. “Listen. Think.”

The two words seemed to cut the anger out of him, and he fell silent.

After a few long moments, Regdar spoke again, this time loud enough for everyone on the main floor of the inn to hear.

“If we go out there and fight,” Regdar said slowly, “we could win. We might kill all the gnolls before they kill all of us.”

The fighter let the double impact of that statement sink in. The few villagers still downstairs exchanged uncomfortable glances. Ian shrugged, but he hadn’t moved toward the door to support either side.

“But if we don’t,” Regdar continued, “if they kill all of us instead of just some of us, they’ll take a prize back to their leader. A dangerous prize.”

He looked over at Krusk. The half-orc looked uncomfortable, but Regdar knew he couldn’t sway anyone to the right course of action without giving some reason for it.

“We do believe that the gnolls attacking your village are after one thing. When that thing leaves, they must follow it, and you’ll be safe.” Some of the villagers muttered uncertainly, but Regdar kept on, “We can take this thing and try to escape with it, but I know that’s asking a lot of you. How do you know you aren’t just helping us to escape, with you remaining behind to die in the fire?”

More muttering started. Naull shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

“I have no answer for that,” Regdar concluded. “You’ll have to trust us.”

He looked over at Alhandra, standing tall in her shining armor, then he turned to Krusk. He met the half-orc’s eyes and the barbarian nodded, as if Regdar was talking to him, not the villagers.

“I trust you,” Ian said. “I’ll stay. I can’t ride with this, anyway,” he said, indicating his bandaged shoulder.

The half-elf looked at Early. The big man’s face showed his emotions clearly. He felt anger, pain, and fear, but resolution slowly formed. He stepped over to Ian and held out a large hand. The half-elf took it in his own small grip and pumped it once.

“Me, too,” Early said. “This is my village, and I trust you, Regdar.” Quietly, he added, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me, too,” Regdar replied in a low voice. “Here’s my plan,” he said, gesturing everyone to draw near.

Naull somehow grinned even as the gnolls’ howling increased.

“What’s taking so long?” Grawltak barked at Kark.

The older gnoll rounded up two more hapless villagers, a human girl and an old dwarf. They’d already burned the dwarf’s beard away—gnolls hated dwarves as much as any of the “civilized” peoples—but they stopped short of killing him.

Maybe I’ll use one of my mistress’s favorite tortures, Grawltak thought, eying a wagon wheel and thinking of his black-armored leader. Crucifixion seems to impress the soft-skins.

He was about to order the girl stripped and tied to the wagon wheel when the door to the inn flew open. In it, behind what looked like half a broken table, stood a hulking figure. The dim light posed no problem for the gnoll’s eyes, however. He saw clearly who it was, and he panted in pleasure.

“So, half-orc, you’re coming out at last! I hope you still have what I’ve come so far to get! My mistress will be displeased if you’ve lost it.”

From behind the table-shield, Krusk raised one hand and showed the oilskin packet. He took a step out of the doorway then stopped. A few of the gnolls moved forward, but he leaned back.

“Well, come on, half-orc!” Grawltak shouted. “What are you waiting for? Your friends have decided your fate. Come forward quickly, or I’ll add this one’s blood to the night’s pool!”

Kark passed the human girl to Grawltak, and she sobbed as he threw her roughly to the ground.

“Let them go!” the half-orc called back, half question, half demand.

Hyenalike laughter answered him, but Grawltak stepped forward and barked for silence.

“Of course! They mean nothing to us. My mistress is impatient! I will not take my pleasures in this village if you surrender yourself. Who knows? If you cooperate, maybe you, too, will live. I don’t blame you for trying to survive!”

Grawltak looked around the courtyard. He tried not to glance too long in the direction of the gnolls positioned closest to the inn. Each had two bottles of alchemist’s fire. When they had the half-orc in tow and knew the burden he carried was theirs, they would splash the inn. The burning and the death would keep the soft-skins from pursuing.

“We’ll take your weapons, but even those you might get back, if you cooperate!”

No barks of laughter answered Grawltak then. He could feel the tension in his pack. They were waiting for the kill.

The half-orc stepped forward. He kept the table in front of him as he moved across the porch, down the steps, and onto the courtyard grass. A few of the gnolls stepped forward into the light of the burning hay bales. Grawltak himself moved forward, with Kark beside him, but something made him pause.

It saved his life. The shutters of the upper story of the inn flew open and arrows shot out. Two struck the ground inches away from Grawltak’s feet and others hit each of the gnolls moving toward Krusk. One of those gnolls collapsed with a howl, but the other pulled the shaft out of his leather armor and leaped forward, axe in hand.

The half-orc threw the table at the gnoll, and the unexpected attack caught the creature off-guard. As the humanoid leaped aside, Krusk swept out his own greataxe and brought it smashing down against the gnoll’s shoulder. Swinging back, the whining creature managed a weak blow against Krusk’s side.

The rest of the gnolls reacted quickly. Kark’s archers loosed their arrows at the half-orc, but Krusk was partly shielded by the gnoll in front of him. Only one arrow struck its target, and it thudded harmlessly off the half-orc’s chain shirt.

Grawltak howled in anger. The gnolls heard him and those with the alchemist’s fire jumped out from their cover and made ready to throw.

As they waited for Grawltak’s signal, the stable door exploded outward. A human woman in gleaming armor rode right over one of the fire-flask gnolls as she spurred her horse forward. Another rider followed her, this one a human man. His armor was darker and covered in spikes. Grawltak swept out his axe and with Kark at his side, charged to meet them.