T Lain - Treachery's Wake

“Nor I,” said Krusk. “I can handle those guards if I have a little room to maneuver.”

“What if there are others?” the druid asked.

“So much the worse for them,” Krusk replied. “You can stay and worry about their welfare if you want to, but I’m getting out of here.

“Coming?” he asked.

Krusk glared menacingly at the other prisoners as he passed down the row of cells.

“Make so much as a peep and I’ll snap all of your necks,” he growled.

Lidda hugged the wall as she moved around the door frame. She crouched low to the ground, circling the table to get herself directly behind the closest of the men seated at the large, round table that filled the room. A rack of weapons hung from the wall opposite the rogue. She found herself wishing that she’d taken more time to study the place before going in. Moving silently and unobserved, she crept along the shadows. “I’m just glad he’s down there and we’re up—” The maris words dropped away when Lidda struck the base of his skull with her blackjack. His face landed in stacks of silver and copper pieces, scattering them. The other two men jumped back as the nimble halfling sprang from behind the fallen maris chair and launched herself directly across the table. She grabbed the nearest guard by the collar of his leather armor and smashed the blackjack across his face. His head snapped to the side with the impact of the blow, spittle and pieces of his teeth flying from his bloody mouth.

The last one lunged for a short sword that hung on the wall just beyond his reach. His hand closed short of the hilt of the weapon as Lidda’s arms closed around his neck. The man spun around to place the rogue between himself and the wall and threw his body backward, crushing the rogue with his weight. The blow pushed the wind from Lidda’s lungs. Her arms loosened slightly as she struggled to get a breath. Black spots danced in her vision. She groped for the maris eyes as she felt her ribcage being crushed.

“Malthooz, you fool,” she managed to gasp as the guard reached around and grabbed a handful of her hair.

Where is that idiot?

Malthooz ran through the door. He came around the table with his blackjack raised. Desperately, the guard slammed Lidda against the wall again, and she fell to the floor gasping for breath. The man grabbed a weapon from the rack and moved to intercept Malthooz.

“I won’t hold it against you if you give up now,” the guard said, laughing. “I’m sure we have room for you and your friend downstairs.”

He swung the sword. Malthooz leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blade.

“Then again,” the guard said, “I could just kill you now and keep the paperwork to a minimum.”

Lidda rolled herself over, the handle of the blackjack in her hand. The guard caught her movement in the corner of his eye and spun around. His boot shot out, catching the rogue in the side, but his foot was too slow. The leather weapon flew from Lidda’s outstretched arm. It sailed at the maris face, end over end, to strike him in the forehead.

Malthooz jumped forward as the man reacted to the clout. The half-orc grabbed the guard’s neck, intending to steady him for a knockout blow. A jolt of energy flowed from his hand and traveled into the maris body. Malthooz yanked his hand away. The man convulsed once and went down.

Lidda got up slowly from the floor, clutching her side, and said, “I may have broken a rib or two.”

“Let me,” Malthooz said moving to her side.

“Save it. I’m not sure your newfound powers would be enough to deal with this anyway.”

They heard the clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs. Lidda grabbed two swords from the rack on the wall and tossed one of the unfamiliar weapons to the half-orc.

“Just swing it like a club,” she advised. “We can’t be choosy right now. Sounds like a crowd coming up the steps. How much more of that magic do you have in you?”

Malthooz shrugged.

“It just seems to happen,” he whispered. “I can’t really control it.”

“Well, keep it happening,” Lidda said.

Malthooz smiled. It was good to have his companion back and to shelve his doubts about her loyalty. Even if they didn’t make it out of this place alive, at least he wouldn’t die alone. Lidda raised her sword and moved behind the table as the footsteps sounded just outside the door.

Malthooz tensed as the door burst open. He saw Krusk’s large form charge through the open portal, followed quickly by Mialee. A moment later, Vadania entered the room. She stopped short and looked over the unexpected scene.

“I thought this escape was too easy to be true,” she said.

Krusk seemed to be struggling with whether he should hug Malthooz or strangle Lidda. Instead, he stood dumbfounded, unable to speak.

“We’re happy to see you too, Krusk,” Lidda said, letting her sword arm fall. She nodded at the unconscious guards lying about the room. “I thought I’d have to put a few more to rest when I heard you coming up the stairs.”

“Is this Flint’s doing?” Mialee asked.

Lidda nodded. “Yeah, but I think we have more trouble on the way.”

“The body in the hallway?” Vadania asked.

“His name is Kargle,” Lidda replied. “Doorman from the guild. Apparently he was Flint’s right hand man. I wasn’t sure if he was a help or a hindrance, but when Malthooz decided we were walking into a trap, I figured it was best to get him out of the way for safety’s sake. It just seemed prudent.”

“I knew it,” Krusk said.

“Yeah,” Lidda said with a sigh, “and I should have guessed it. I let myself get too caught up in the idea of joining the guild to see clearly.”

“So where’s the ambush?” Krusk asked. “Don’t try to tell me that Flint expected these three to keep us here.”

“No, I think that’s what Kargle was for,” Lidda said, “but let’s not wait around to find out.”

“Are you all right to move, Lidda?” Mialee asked.

“I can move,” she replied, though the pain in her side grew more acute with each passing minute.

Krusk took a sword from the rack on the wall. He grabbed the hair of the guard who was slumped over the table and pressed the blade against the unconscious maris neck. Lidda grabbed his arm.

“Don’t do it Krusk. They’re just doing their jobs.”

“Was part of that job to harass and insult me?” The barbarian glared momentarily, but withdrew the blade and satisfied himself with slamming the maris face down onto the table. A few coins clattered to the floor. Krusk hit the back of the guard’s skull with the pommel of his sword and added, “That’s for the gag.”

When everyone was armed, they started toward the front doors. At the sound of someone moving behind them, Krusk spun around and saw a door slam shut at the far end of the hallway. The barbarian bolted in pursuit, breaking the door down as he went. The old jailer was huddled in the corner at the far end of the chamber. His whole frame shivered in fear as the barbarian approached him.

“Anything you want,” the man pleaded, throwing up his hands.

The others filed in. The place was filled with row upon row of cabinets, each of them clasped and locked.

“Looks like we found our stuff,” Lidda said, tossing aside the cheap blade she held.

Krusk grabbed the ring of keys the jailer held out to him.

Cold air greeted them when they emerged from the jailhouse. The marble stairs in front of the building ran down into a broad avenue. Oil-fed lights flickered up and down the lane, casting a pale glow on the cobbled stones that paved the avenue. Though they gave better illumination than the primitive torches that lined the streets in the shabbier quarters, they left much to be desired.