T Lain - City of Fire

She and Regdar still rode the horse they’d taken from the inn’s stable, but Alhandra sat alone on Windlass. Krusk insisted he could keep up with them on foot, and it made sense to have him scout the path ahead. Naull couldn’t see more than a dozen feet in front of her after an hour of riding, and it would only get worse.

She saw the barbarian’s shaggy head move, but whether he was nodding or simply hopping over the stones, she couldn’t tell. She sighed.

“Krusk, we can’t see you,” Alhandra reminded him.

They’d decided to do without torches. When the gnolls realized they’d been tricked and came after Krusk again, they would move more slowly if they were following a vague track than if they were following the distant light of burning torches. Regdar suggested they might dare lights once they reached the canyon’s floor, but Naull wouldn’t hold her breath.

“Yes,” the half-orc grumbled.

Don’t like to talk much, do you? Naull thought.

Still, she had questions that needed answers.

“So this is the way to the gate?” she asked.

A pause.

“Yes,” the half-orc said again.

“Why didn’t you just go there, then, instead of coming all the way north?”

The horse’s hooves clacked and slid on the rock trail. Naull clutched Regdar’s side to keep from spilling off their mount and onto the ground.

“Needed to find some help,” Naull thought she heard, but Krusk’s voice was faint.

“What was that?”

“He needed to find someone he could trust,” Alhandra explained. “That’s what he told me, back in the inn. He said he knows how to close the gate, but I don’t think he can do it alone.”

“He probably didn’t want to lead the gnolls right to it, either, in the condition he was in,” Regdar supplied.

That made sense. Naull started categorizing the rest of her questions, hoping Regdar or Alhandra would call a halt soon.

The party continued downward into the darkness. Eventually, Naull felt the ground under their horses’ feet level off. The unfortunate animals still stumbled in the darkness, however, even Windlass, who seemed to have an uncanny ability to find the smoothest route.

“This is getting ridiculous, Regdar,” Naull said. She could barely see their horse’s head when she looked around the fighter’s armored back. “Krusk may be able to see in the dark just fine, but the rest of us can’t. Either light a torch or let’s camp. I vote for the latter. I may have slept most of the day, but I’m exhausted. I’d like to prepare some spells tomorrow,” she hinted strongly, “unless you think I can contribute to this little expedition with just my crossbow.”

Regdar pulled up and Naull heard Alhandra do the same.

“That was a good shot back at the inn,” Alhandra said from somewhere in the darkness. “It kept their leader off us until we could put on our little show.”

Krusk grunted his agreement.

Despite herself, Naull felt her cheeks color at the praise.

“It was a lucky shot,” she admitted. “I don’t practice much with this thing, and Regdar can tell you some stories…”

But the fighter didn’t say anything. Instead, he dismounted and Naull scrambled down as well. She heard Alhandra dismount.

“Krusk,” Regdar said, “find us some shelter. Some place we can defend, if there’s anything suitable nearby. Naull, you’ve got the supplies?”

Naull nodded, hefting the bag Lexi had hastily put together for them before they fled the inn.

They set up a small, cold camp under an overhang on the east side of the canyon. Moon- and starlight glimmered down to reflect dimly from the rift’s floor, fifty or sixty feet below. It revealed no detail at all, only a barely discernible glimmer. Other than Krusk, the adventurers were nearly blind.

“Campfire?” Naull asked.

“No,” Regdar responded. “We don’t need one, anyway.”

Shivering in the shadows, Naull wanted to disagree, but Regdar was right. Their packs were loaded with dried meat, bread, and a few blankets. They wouldn’t starve or freeze.

“Aren’t deserts supposed to be hot?” she asked.

“Not at night,” replied Regdar. “Krusk, I can take the first watch. I’ll wake you in a few hours, and then Alhandra can take over from you.”

“Don’t I get a turn?” Naull asked, pretending hurt.

“So you can complain about how your sleep-deprived mind can’t accept the magic patterns? No. We’re not spending more than eight hours here. You sleep the whole time, starting now.”

“Yes sir!”

She grinned and leaned over to pat Regdar playfully on the cheek. He looked up at her and the warmth in his eyes made her blush.

Someday, she thought as she thanked Wee Jas for the darkness surrounding them, we might have to talk about this. But we’re partners now, she concluded, lying back on her blanket.

Grawltak panted eagerly as he held the packet in front of him. They fled northward from the village and found a stand of trees to welcome them. They discarded the torches and lanterns as they ran—always into a convenient haystack or shack, of course. The soft-skins wouldn’t forget this night in a hurry! He drew out his disk-shaped amulet and spoke the words that invoked its power.

A whine from Kark stopped him. They’d carried the wounded lieutenant away from the inn. Three younger whelps were lost in the battle and another failed to keep up on the road. If he managed somehow to catch up, then they’d consider bringing him along too. Otherwise, he was bait for the softskins. But Kark…

“Draw the bolt—carefully!” Grawltak instructed one of the gnoll pups.

He shoved the disk back inside his armor but held the packet eagerly.

Gnolls seldom knew much about healing, unless they became the chosen of Yeenoghu. Grawltak shuddered again at the thought of the shamans his mistress employed. She followed Hextor, he knew, but at least one of her pet clerics was a follower of the gnoll god.

Kark writhed in pain. Blood stained his mottled fur. He was unconscious and looked as if he would live, but his body wouldn’t let him rest. Grawltak’s dark eyes studied the older gnoll carefully, then he reached a decision.

“Give him this,” Grawltak snapped.

He pulled a dark flask from his belt pouch. One of the younger gnolls opened it and sniffed it, but at a growl from the leader, he stooped and poured it between Kark’s open jaws. At first, it seemed the older gnoll might choke on the elixir, but he coughed and stopped writhing. In moments his breathing returned to normal. His dark eyes opened.

“Leader…” he said, sounding almost confused.

As uncharacteristic as Kark’s sacrifice back at the inn had been, it was obvious Grawltak’s generosity surprised the old gnoll.

It surprises me as well, the gnoll leader thought angrily. That’s the second time I’ve saved you from death, though at least this time it was in return for your favor.

He growled angrily, “I have to have someone to keep these pups in line! I have only ten left. Get them into order while I call the mistress or I’ll have all your hides.”

Kark stood stiffly and nodded. He turned his head, exposing his neck in supplication, but Grawltak turned away. The younger gnolls looked on in confusion, much as his pack had watched him years before when he’d first spared the old pack-master’s life and made him his lieutenant. Grawltak knew he had Kark’s loyalty, but the younger gnolls couldn’t help but mistake his gesture—sharing precious healing magic with a mortally wounded underling—as a sign of weakness. Grawltak knew his alliance with Kark made him strong, stronger than other gnoll pack leaders, but he wasn’t sure the rest would see it that way.

All thoughts of reestablishing pack dominance left Grawltak’s mind as he took out the amulet again. He grinned, his tongue lolling to one side. His mistress would be very pleased with him. So the half-orc got away. So what? Even the mistress said the half-orc itself was of no matter, as long as what it carried was delivered to her. Grawltak would soon be rewarded, and his pack would see it.