Dark Obligations: Book One of the Phantom Badgers (22 page)

“What happened to the lizards?”

“They were the payoff for the Hydra.”

“So these are what all this was about,”
Durek mused, studying the racks carefully. Resting on nails driven into the untreated planks were weapons: axes, maces, and swords, each rack supporting a half-dozen. Each had the distinctive dark cast to the metal that spoke of
Fortren
work, and each was etched and engraved with weird glyphs, twisted runes, and strange sigils; milky stones of unhealthy hues gleamed at the pommels and upon the hafts of many of the weapons, and inlays of scarlet and green wire drew evil symbols.

“A
group hauling them must have been lost on that bridge, just as Leofric’s books were,” Arian shrugged. “Ugly buggers, aren't they? Void-blessed metal each and every one, it will take a temple of the first order to destroy them.”

“We can’t lug them out of here, there’s too much else we have to carry, but we’ll scatter them about the entire cavern, and drop the bridge for good measure. They’ll have to work twice as hard to get them back next time. Now, let
us have a look at this other pile, we can count the money later.”

The pile of assorted loot had not been paid
much attention by the Champion, and most of the items still wore a thick layer of dirt. The racks held what the Draktaur had come here to recover, so these items were simply a bonus. There were several Dwarven-crafted weapons and pieces of armor looted from the hold above whose protective finishes had not yet been ruined by the mud pit’s wetness, a few pounds of iron-work that wasn’t too badly rusted, and even a small trove of enchanted items: a black bastard sword, two brass torcs, a buckler, and a hammered brass pot containing a small collection of enchanted paper packages.

“Some sort of spell embedded in these,”
Arian resealed the pot. “None of these items are Void-infected, but whatever’s in this pot needs a wizard’s attentions. The rest are pretty straightforward, so Bridget or I should be able to sort out how they work in a few hours, when we get the time.”

Durek nodded absently as he examined a shirt of Dwarven mail. “Good, we’ll deal with them later. Take a break; as soon as Starr and Rolf are done, set Rolf and Johann to shifting the loot to the bridge, and then scattering those damned weapons on the racks. You and Starr scatter the Bloodmaster’s gear where the mud will be the thickest, and then release the children and get them up on the bridge. I’m going to clean up this shirt as my breast-and-back’s ruined.”

Moving slowly to conserve his strength, the Captain trudged over to the wreckage of the north pen and obtained a metal saw, a stout hammer, and a selection of chisels from the scattered tools there. Painfully ascending one of the rope ladders, he stopped to survey his detachment on the bridge. The corpses and supplies winched up had been transferred to the niche where the he and two other scouts had stopped before crawling to the bridge; all that was on the bridge was a snoring
Kroh, Bridget on sentry duty, and a battered Robin who sat with the bloody great sword Moonblade across his knees, staring out into nothing.

Durek
stopped by him to lay a comradely hand on his shoulder and murmur a few words, but the bearded man who now appeared a decade older than his years gave no sign that he was even aware of the Dwarf’s presence. Pausing to bring Bridget up to date on the items they had found on the south platform, the Captain marched to the north end of the bridge and gave the structure’s fastenings a careful study. Jotting notes in chalk next to key couplings, he neatly stacked the tools and returned to the lifting gear, whose mountings he studied with equal care. Satisfied, he seated himself upon the bridge and began to devise the Company’s dispositions for the next stage of operations.

When
Janna had returned, the loot and children were gathered on the bridge (the former roped together in two groups of four each), and the Void-blessed weapons and the Bloodmaster’s possessions scattered across the width of the cavern.

The Captain sat on a wheelbarrow and studied the slaves, his crossbow across his knees and one of Rolf’s, cocked and loaded, close to hand. Eight bedrolls and cargo-packs of provisions had been prepared; since the freed slaves would be unburdened by weapons or armor, each pack held enough food to feed a man for twenty days.
While it was unacceptable to leave them to die down here, the risk of bringing along followers of the Void or thieves or murderers was a real one, and would make heavy demands upon the depleted ranks of his detachment. Nevertheless, it had to be done.

Durek
took up a position to the left and well away from the slave pen door with his and three spare crossbows, with Starr to the right of the door and well away, her bow at the ready and her quiver refilled with the spare arrows she had stored on the
komad
. Rolf and Trellan stood at the door, each with a dozen two-foot lengths of light rope under their belts while Janna, sword and shield ready, stood nearby, ready to move to their aid. The lock was chiseled off the chain and one by one the slaves were allowed through the door to have their wrists bound behind their backs and their bodies searched for weapons. Janna led each bound slave to the side and sat him down well away from his neighbors. Under the threat of the crossbow and the Lanthrell archer, whose abilities had been amply displayed during the battle, the slaves were docile enough.

When the last slave was seated on the dirt
Durek nodded to Rolf, who took up his axe and moved down the line, methodically beheading the Goblins and Orcs. One of the latter died on Janna’s sword as he sprang to his feet in an attempt to escape the death that was stolidly moving down the line towards him. The half-Orc and Humans stirred uneasily but refrained from moving too much while covered by the archer and crossbow-wielding Dwarf. When the last of the five was dead Durek faced the ten remaining slaves.

“We had agreed to let the Orcs from the north pen depart unharmed if they helped us, and would have honored that had they lived; that offer did not apply to those in the south pen. We are loyal servitors of the Light and the Eight, and have no mercy for the minions of the Void or the Dark One. Each of you will be untied one by one so you may strip; if you are free of cult markings or tattoos, you will have the choice of striking out on your own or of staying with our group, under my command, until we reach a place suitable to you. While you are under my command you will obey my orders and the orders of my troops
, or you will die.’

Seven Humans remained when this search was done
, as three had had cult tattoos upon their persons; two elected to depart on their own, opting to take the north tunnel from the cavern. Durek let them take a bedroll and supply pack apiece, and to choose what they wanted from the ordinary arms and armor scattered about the cavern.

The five remaining were loaded down with supplies and bedrolls and sent up to the brid
ge to man the block and tackle. When all the raiders were safely in the south tunnel Durek gave the command and the five heaved on the drawlines. It took them four tries, but after the second partially-chiseled fastenings and saw-weakened links were breaking on the north end and at the fourth effort the bridge treadway broke free from its north and central moorings and crashed to the dirt below, leaving only the ceiling chains hanging down to mark its passage. The slaves were put to work cutting the south end free from the stone under Kroh’s watchful eye while the rest of the raiders prepared to withdraw.

Down below
timbers had been stacked atop the Black Dwarves’ weapons and armor, and oil-soaked blankets were laid across the planks. Starr fired an arrow bearing a ball of burning pitch into the blankets, starting a blaze that would ignite the planks. The fire would destroy the crossbows and damage the temper of some of the metal gear, as well as ruining the finishes that protected the weapons from rust. Few if any would survive their entombment in mud.

“It took more effort to tidy up after the battle than to do the actual fighting,”
Arian commented to the Captain as the last of the chains were cut and the bridge’s south end fell to the cavern floor, raising a huge cloud of dust.

“That’s how it goes,”
Durek nodded. “How are the children?”

“Well enough, all things considered. They’re happy to be rescued, although seeing the battle shook ‘em up some. Youngest is eight, oldest is thirteen, so they will be able to keep up,” he added, aware that a Dwarf would be unclear about a Human’s capabilities at those ages. “They shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“What about those five,” Durek jerked his chin, or rather the top of his beard, towards the ex-slaves. “Johann seems all right.”

““Yes, I think he will be no problem, but as for this lot, there are two who wear the marks o
f time spent in Imperial penal work gangs. The rest might be all right, it’s hard to tell.”

“They don’t touch a weapon, and we post a guard on them when we camp. The first one to give us any trouble will be shorter by a head.”

“I think your culling of their comrades should have gotten the point across nicely, but I’ll pass the word to keep an eye on them.”

“Right, everyone check their gear, and we’re off.
Kroh, you and Rolf take the vanguard.”

The trip through the
raith
to the lowest
cidhe
was one the Badgers who made the journey would never forget. Most of their wounds had been Healed, but the enchantments simply healed the flesh, leaving the pain and shock of the wound to fade at a much slower rate. The debilitating effect of melee and the hard work of the battle’s aftermath had not been fully offset by the rest breaks Durek had given them, making the march an agony of exhaustion and hardship.

Durin
g the six-hour trek back to
Gradrek Heleth
Janna Maidenwalk once and forever removed whatever stigma her fanaticism and cold demeanor had created amongst her comrades. Although she had fought and worked as hard as any, and had been Healed of several wounds, the ex-Silver Eagle was the mainstay of the raiders during this journey, moving up and down the ranks to lend a hand over a rough place in the passage, give an encouraging word to an weary Badger, or carry an exhausted and weeping child. It was her iron will which carried them for the last hour, Durek having succumbed into a wooden stage of exhaustion and pain, stumbling along one wobbly step at a time, his eyes almost as distant as Robin’s.

The
komad
came into their own on this hard march as well: despite being overloaded by a large margin they moved without complaint or attack, clambering as best they could over obstructions and keeping up with their lighter-loaded masters, reaching the end of the journey in good spirits despite the addition of three children apiece to their already massive burdens.

Night camp was established in a partially-finished apartment block a hundred yards from the warehouse
entry point to the
raith
. Janna posted Starr as sentry on the likeliest point of attack, supervised the ex-slaves as they unloaded and fed the
komad
(knocking one complainer flat with a vicious blow of her shield-rim), and took first watch over the ex-slaves while the rest of the Badgers hastily rolled into their blankets for much-needed rest.

Arian made breakfast for himself and Janna, and brought the meal to the Silver Eagle, who was on guard at the main entrance to the apartments. “Here we are, hot and nearly edible.”

“That’s about all you can expect,” she observed, taking the plate and mug from him. “Still and all, it’s much better than eating it cold.”

“A night’s sleep and a hot meal seems to be working its usual magic,” the monk observed. “Nearly everyone is getting back into fighting form, excepting Robin, I’m afraid.”

“Still in a world of his own
?”

“No, he’s back from that, and the effects of the head wound are gone, or nearly so, but he is in the grip of a depression that renders him nearly useless; I’m not sure he could defend himself if attacked. I realize losing a loved one is traumatic, but did he not ever consi
der the possibility before this? After all, she was a warrior, this was hardly an unlikely outcome for her, or any of us.”

“I was not expecting to survive when you fell and the Direbreed were on me,”
Janna nodded. “But for Rolf neither of us would have walked away from that.”

The monk rubbed his side and nodded thoughtfully. “T
hat was too close for comfort. Still, that was the point of the three on the bridge: to act as a reserve. Damned brave of Rolf all the same; we ought to put him in for a Ruby Claw.”

“I’ve mentioned it to
Durek. Are you able to Heal again?”

“I had much, but not all, of my capacity when I woke up this morning, although I’ve used most of it up
Healing various minor wounds, as has Bridget; it will take at least two days without using our abilities before either Bridget or I have anything like our full reach of ability again. She’ll get it back quicker than I, being better at the whole business.”

“What does it feel like, wh
en you Heal someone?”

“Like my fingers are being slowly pulled out of their sockets while my whole body is as rigid as a board, although this is due mostly to my own ineptness rather than the art itself. I understand
Bridget feels only a minor numbness in her hands and lower arms, and that only in the worst cases.”