Fool's Errand (5 page)

Another hundred feet or so brought a turn westward. Thatcher stopped short. The long, thin, almost invisible slits in the right-hand wall, one about knee height and the other nearly mid-chest were clear indicators to Thatcher’s keen eyes. This was another trap. While he waited for the others to catch up, he searched diligently for a control mechanism but found none.

“Sorry, guys, but this is no gobbler rigged trap. This is precise and deadly work. Looks Durgak made, unless I miss my guess.” Seeing Duncan’s nodding head confirmed Thatcher’s assessment. “And worst news of all, there doesn’t seem to be a control box on this side.”

“You fixed the others just fine, kid. Why is this one different?” Goldain’s sincere question echoed Gideon’s eyes.

“Well, the gobbler traps were set on the way out as a way of protecting the hideout while they were out raiding. This one is designed to keep anyone from getting any further down this hallway. If this trap is active, whatever is past this is worth protecting. That also means at least one live gobbler up ahead who can disarm this. Of course, the other possibility is that it isn’t armed at all, but I can test that easily enough.”

Thatcher slipped off his backpack and removed a length of thin, well-made rope. Securing the rope to one of the shoulder straps of his pack, he slid it down the hallway. Upon reaching a point twenty feet down the passage, the pack triggered a pressure plate in the floor. Rotating blades emerged from the slits in the wall. Had they walked down this hallway, none of the troop would now be any taller than Duncan, having been clipped above the neck and below the knees. Thatcher’s keen eyes spotted the flaw in the trap.

“I think these blades were designed to be in synch, but for some reason it has become misaligned. The top blade is spinning slightly slower than the bottom. I think I can get through this gap.”

Thatcher hauled his backpack to himself by the section of rope. As soon as the pack was off the pressure plate, the blades returned to their hidden resting place.

“Thankfully, Durgak traps work fairly quietly, so hopefully, there are no surprises ahead, but the torches don’t show me much past the trap, so no idea what the corridor ahead looks like.”

A voice startled them all and even drew Goldain’s and Gideon’s hands to the hilts of their swords before they realized it was Melizar who had silently caught up to the group.

“The corridor turns sharply north just beyond the blade trap,” Melizar added matter-of-factly. “If there is indeed a Hobgoblin ahead, that would be the perfect place to attack anyone who cleverly slipped through,”

Thatcher was not sure if he was more comforted or disturbed by Melizar’s visual acuity so far underground.

“Okay then,” Thatcher continued, “you guys ready whatever ranged weapons you have because if there is a control box on this little contraption, it ain’t on this side. Aim quick and well. I am not getting through this trap with anything on me heavier than a dagger.”

With that, Thatcher unslung his crossbow and dropped his hip quiver of quarrels. He unbuckled his longsword and laid it aside as well. Securing his tool belt close to his body and taking his single-edged boot knife in his teeth, he prepared himself for the feat ahead. He tossed a torch forward on the floor just before the place where the backpack had triggered the pressure plate. This would give enough light to see the blades.

Suddenly and without further fanfare, Thatcher sprinted down the hallway. Even running at full sprint, he kept his well-trained eyes focused on the lower slit, from which he knew the leading blade would emerge. Upon reaching the pressure plate, the lower blade rocketed toward his knees with its upper companion close behind.

Thatcher dove forward in a rolling tumble threading him between the spinning blades. His jump was slightly higher than intended, and he felt the upper blade scrape a layer or two from the back of his leather jerkin as it passed above him. Fortunately, it had not severed the tool belt strap slung across his shoulder.

As he rolled to his feet, he continued his sprint to the turn in the corridor beyond the trap. The blades made one more circuit before returning to rest, indicating at least one additional pressure plate beyond the first they had discovered. As Thatcher reached the corner, he snatched his dagger from between his teeth, crouching in a defensive stance. The nervous youth expected gobblers waiting in ambush. He was happily disappointed. The corridor beyond was too dark to see, but he could hear nothing beyond, and no attacks came.

After a few seconds growing increasingly confident that he was not in imminent danger, he called back to the group in a low voice.

“Goldain, I will need light to search for the control box, can you toss a torch all the way to me?”

“You got it, kid. You might want to step around the corner though. It’s hard to aim a thrown torch, and you don’t want to be where this one lands.”

Thatcher put his back to the east wall just around the corner, and soon a spinning torch clattered against the west wall and fell sputtering to the floor. The force of Goldain’s throw sent shivers down the wood of the torch, and it nearly went out after dropping to the floor. Thatcher scrambled to stabilize the flame.

He could now see the hallway went at least twenty more feet northward beyond the corner before it stretched beyond the edge of the torchlight. Still no unwanted company seemed close. Nonetheless, Thatcher continued his work in silence. After searching for a few more minutes, Thatcher found no controls on this end either. He called back softly to the group.

“Worse news, fellas, there doesn’t seem to be a box on this end either, and getting back to you is going to be much harder than getting to this side.”

Duncan offered his guidance.

“Laddie, look for a part of the wall that is different from the rest. It will be subtle to be sure, but the rock grain will be slightly misaligned. That’s how Durgak mark trap boxes.”

After blowing on the torch to inspire the flame and carefully reexamining the walls past the trap, Thatcher did discover a small square of wall where the grains in the stone were just slightly off true. After another minute or so, he found the hidden catch. The small section depressed, sliding to the side and revealing the mechanism beyond.

This was definitely not a gobbler trap. The controls were strong, perfectly adjusted and well-engineered. Thatcher doubted if he could break these controls if he hit them with a hammer. He soon had the trap lock in place and called to the group that it was safe.

None of them seemed particularly trusting of his affirmation having seen the trap in action. Thatcher allayed their fears by walking back through the trapped hallway to the group to collect his belongings.

“So, not sure you trust the kid-thief yet, eh?”

Thatcher asked this question half in earnest and half in jest. The others sheepishly remained silent but gathered themselves and proceeded forward.

The corridor past the trap continued north only about forty feet and then turned again west. While there were no further traps ahead, they had definitely reached somewhere important.

Ahead was a secured metal door blocking any further progress. If there were gobblers down this hallway, they were on the other side of this door. As they stood wondering how to get past the formidable hatch, they heard voices from the corridor behind them. Thatcher quickly readied his crossbow, and the others drew their weapons. Melizar slipped into the shadows beyond the circle of the torchlight.

A gravelly voice from beyond the trapped corridor behind shouted in broken Adami.

“Hey, Girblaz, you all right down there? We got ‘truders. They garbled duh entry traps. Let us in so’s we can get ready for dem.”

Different Hobgoblin and Orc tribes spoke vastly different dialects, so many resorted to Adami for intertribal communication. Adami was the trade language for most of Ya-Erets. The gobblers must have just returned from their raiding, not realizing the blade trap was disarmed.

Seconds later, the sound of a large bolt drawing back came from the other side of the metal door. It slowly creaked open. A surprised Girblaz met a silent end with Goldain’s hand over his mouth and the barbarian’s sword in his throat.

Thatcher spawned an idea. He quickly returned to the trap box and slid the locking mechanism out of place, rearming the trap. He then did his best imitation of a gobbler accent and called out to the returning Hobgoblins.

“M’kay, safe. Hurry.”

Apparently, it was enough to fool the weary gobbler raiders. Within a few seconds, the whoosh of the blades and the cut-short screams of blade-mangled Hobgoblins echoed down the hallway. Melizar, settled in the corner at the bend beyond the trap, called out to his comrades.

“There are three dead and six more have just drawn weapons and retreated back around the corner at the other end.”

Thatcher quickly relocked the trap and called to the warriors.

“Safe. Go!”

Goldain bounded down the hallway with Gideon a half-step behind. Duncan had his war hammer in hand, but his shorter legs trailed a few paces behind the taller warriors. Melizar and Thatcher brought up the rear.

As they rounded the corner, they saw ahead of them the retreating Hobgoblins had dragged the cots out of the guardroom and erected a makeshift barricade in the hallway. Hastily-aimed arrows whizzed down the corridor with one glancing off Gideon’s helmet and another bouncing off the shield hanging on Duncan’s left arm. Others passed harmlessly, but one flew close enough to Goldain ear that he must have heard it hum.

Thatcher hit the ground, aiming his crossbow toward the barricade. The Hobgoblins’ own torches illuminated their position. Their eyes, while better than human eyes underground, were nowhere near as keen as Durgak eyes.

Thatcher’s repeating crossbow was his own invention. It utilized a lever action, allowing it to be cocked and fired quicker than the slow and laborious cranks of most crossbows. He was a clever lad, possessing a mind for gadgets and a heart for magical items. Magical items were rare, but his invented gadgetry substitutes were in no short supply.

The chance came for the first kill when one Hobgoblin peeked a little too high over the barricade. Thatcher was a crack shot and put a quarrel straight into the right eye of the over-curious gobbler. Goldain and Gideon had pulled back after the first volley of arrows. There was a lot of distance between them and the gobblers, and running headlong into archers was a great way to get oneself killed.

“We can’t wait here all day,” said Goldain. “These six could have any number of reinforcements still behind them.”

“Five,” corrected Thatcher. “One has taken his last look at us. We can’t even be sure Girblaz was the only one behind us either.”

“Yes we can,” Melizar’s voice again sounded out of the darkness. “The room Girblaz occupied was very large room, but there were no other Hobgoblins or apparent exits.”

Once again, the group exchanged puzzled glances at the speed and surety with which Melizar had examined the room beyond the metal door. So sure was his tone that none doubted this was exactly the situation.

“But Goldain is right,” said Gideon. “Those ahead of us still might have sent some to find other raiding parties, and we have no idea what was down the right-hand corridor we didn’t explore. With no exit behind and no idea how much opposition may be ahead, waiting here is waiting for death. We have to move.”

Gideon now sounded like the commander he was.

“Well, your shield might well cover you from a rain of arrows,” said Duncan, “but all I have is a small buckler, and the rest don’t even have that.”

“Fear not,” said Melizar. “If it is a frontal assault you envision, I will lead the way and no arrows will touch you. When I advance, stay in a line behind me, moving swiftly. Once we reach the barricade, the rest is up to you.”

With that, Melizar mumbled some words in a tongue unknown to Thatcher. Reaching into his belt pouch, he extracted some glimmering thread and a small ball of something gooey. He mashed the two together and wrapped the thread around the ball, all the while continuing his
kashaph
incantation.

They saw a small, faintly shimmering disc appear in midair in front of Melizar. As he continued wrapping and mumbling, the disk grew until it was nearly six feet across, more than completely covering Melizar from head to toe. Only Goldain would have to duck slightly to be concealed by the shimmering disc of force.

“Let us advance,” was all the warning Melizar gave before he began a sprint down the hallway.

Goldain and Gideon paced right behind the wizard, with Duncan’s shorter legs straining to keep up. Thatcher felt it best to remain where he was and look for any opportunities to pick off another gobbler or two before the rest reached the barricade. He slipped to the bottom left corner of the hallway to gain the best angle to shoot around Melizar’s protective disc and waited for his shot. It came as five gobblers raised above the barricade with short bows drawn to fire into the charging adventurers. Only four arrows flew true as the fifth Hobgoblin fell backward, his arrow sailing wildly into the roof of the hallway as he fell with one of Thatcher’s quarrels in his throat.

The other four arrows shattered as they smashed into Melizar’s glowing disc. The expressions on the faces of the remaining Hobgoblins changed from anger to horror. They saw their second companion die at their side and their arrows fly uselessly into whatever magic was protecting the charging intruders. After staring almost paralyzed, they freed themselves from their stupor a few moments too late.

By the time they dropped their bows to run, Melizar was crouching before their makeshift barricade, angling the glowing disc toward the ground. Goldian and Gideon leapt over the upturned cots blocking the passage, swords slashing as they cleared the barrier. Each of the warriors cut down two of the remaining Hobgoblins with their swords before their feet hit the ground. Just that quickly, the battle for the hallway was over. Duncan came panting up behind, complaining.

“You long-legged louts! How is a Durgak to gain any deeds worthy of recounting on a valor quest if you keep killing everything before I arrive?”