Forge of the Mindslayers: Blade of the Flame Book 2 (22 page)

Diran looked at Cathmore’s hand for a moment before finally taking it and steadying the man as he rose to his feet.

Ghaji swung his axe at Chagai’s unprotected neck. Orc necks were thick, their heads set close to their broad shoulders, so it wasn’t the easiest target to hit. That didn’t matter since Ghaji didn’t expect his strike to connect.

Sure enough, Chagai pulled away and brought his broadsword up to defect Ghaji’s blow, but at the last instant, Ghaji turned his axe downward, angled his shoulder toward Chagai, and slammed into the orc leader. Pain exploded through Ghaji’s right shoulder all the way down his arm as he hit Chagai’s breastplate, but the maneuver had the intended effect of throwing Chagai off balance. With his left hand Ghaji grabbed Chagai’s sword arm by the wrist and twisted as hard as he could. The sound of snapping bone cut through the air, followed instantly by Chagai’s agonized cry. His hand went limp and the broadsword slipped from his useless fingers.

A broken wrist wasn’t enough to stop an orc warrior, though. Chagai bared his teeth and lunged, sinking them into Ghaji’s right shoulder—the one already bruised and battered from his collision with Chagai’s breastplate. Ghaji’s hide was tougher than a human’s but not as tough as a full orc’s, and Chagai’s teeth sliced into Ghaji’s flesh as easily as a white-hot knife through butter. Now it was Ghaji’s turn to bellow in pain.

He felt hot blood gush from his wound and splatter onto his chest. The agony was so intense that he thought for a moment that he might lose consciousness. Though he might be only half-orc, he was all warrior, so he fought to ignore the pain. He tossed his axe from his right hand to his left, then swung the butt-end of the weapon upward and smashed the handle into Chagai’s right temple. The blow jarred Chagai’s head, causing the teeth embedded into Ghaji’s shoulder to jerk violently and send a fresh wave of agony surging though the half-orc’s arm. He let out another bellow of pain, but he refused to yield. He hit Chagai in the head once, twice, three times more.

Chagai’s eyes went wide, and Ghaji felt a soft chuff of air escape the orc’s mouth and waft across his shoulder wound. Then Chagai collapsed, and since his teeth were still stuck in Ghaji’s shoulder, the half-orc was pulled down with his foe. As they hit,
Chagai’s teeth tore free from Ghaji, causing pain so intense that Ghaji blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying on his back looking up at a blue, cloud-dotted sky. He turned his head, though it hurt like blazes to do so, and saw that Chagai lay next to him. The orc’s eyes were closed, and Ghaji couldn’t tell if he were alive or dead, not that he much cared at this point; he was just glad Chagai wasn’t trying to kill him. He pressed two fingers against the side of Chagai’s neck and felt his pulse. It was weak but steady. It appeared the mercenary commander would live. Too bad.

Slowly, painfully, Ghaji rose to his feet. He’d dropped his axe when Chagai’s dead weight had pulled him down, but he didn’t bother to retrieve the weapon. Chagai was no longer a threat, at least for now. Besides, Ghaji was too weary from the battle and too weak from blood loss to wield the weapon. He pressed a hand to his shoulder wound to staunch the bleeding, then turned to see where Eggera and Murtt were. The two orcs remained by the oak tree, but now they were standing, swords in hand.

Ghaji sighed. “If you plan to kill me, get on with it. I’m too tired to stop you.”

Eggera and Murtt glanced at each other, then shrugged and returned their swords to their scabbards.

“It was a fair fight,” Eggera said.

“Chagai got what he deserved,” Murtt said with a derisive snort. “He should never have attacked you … especially from behind. There was no honor in it.”

Ghaji wanted to say that there was no honor in slaughtering a cottage full of innocents, but he didn’t see much point in bringing that up right then.

“What will you do now, Ghaji?” Eggera asked.

The question was innocent enough, but there was something in the female orc’s tone that added an extra layer of meaning to
her words. Battle-prowess was a prime requisite for orcs when searching for a lover. It seemed even a half-orc could make himself attractive to the opposite sex if he bested a superior opponent. Ghaji didn’t know whether to be pleased by this development or angered that it had taken his almost getting killed to get Eggera to notice him. In the end, he decided to ignore the matter entirely.

“There’s a war on. I’m sure I’ll find work elsewhere.”
Once I heal
, he added. “What of you two? Will you still follow Chagai?”

Murtt’s disdainful grimace was sufficient answer. Still, he said, “Chagai has been defeated and by a half-blood, no less. He is no longer worthy of leading us.” He turned to Eggera. “Let’s go.”

Eggera looked at Ghaji once more, a question in her eyes. Ghaji responded by looking away. A moment later he heard the sound of the two orcs walking away. He didn’t turn around again for several moments, lest he give Eggera the wrong impression, then he spent some time cleaning and bandaging his wound. When he was finished, he returned to Chagai’s side. The orc was beginning to stir, though he had a way to go to reach full consciousness. Ghaji picked up his axe with his left hand and stared down at his former commander. There was no honor in slaying a defenseless foe, but then Chagai hadn’t worried about that last night at the wood-wright’s cottage, had he? Ghaji wasn’t skilled with using his left hand to fight, but he thought he could wield his axe well enough to do what had to be done.

He pressed the edge of his axe blade to Chagai’s throat, and in his mind he once more heard the screams of the wood-wright and his family as they died. Slaying Chagai would be justice, but slaying Chagai while he was helpless would make Ghaji just like him.

Ghaji hesitated. Finally, he pulled the axe away from Chagai’s throat and tucked it beneath his belt. Let Chagai live
with the knowledge that he’d been beaten by a half-blood. That would be far worse for him than death.

Ghaji turned to go, then he stopped. He turned back around and looked at Chagai’s breastplate. There was a small dent from where Ghaji had slammed into the metal, but otherwise it was still good as new—if you didn’t count the blood splashed on it from Ghaji’s shoulder wound.

If I’m going to strike out on my own, I could use some armor, he thought.

He knelt down and began undoing the breastplate’s leather straps.

Ghaji opened his eyes to darkness. His head throbbed and his throat felt as if he’d been gargling with the stomach acid of a purple worm. He tried to move and when he couldn’t, he realized that his hands and feet were bound.

If I had a copper piece for every time I’ve been taken prisoner …

The last Ghaji remembered was being attacked by Haaken and the Coldhearts. If he had to bet where he was, he’d guess the hold of the Coldhearts’ ship. Was Diran here as well? He opened his mouth to whisper his friend’s name, but when Ghaji tried to speak, he started coughing, and it took several moments for him to regain control of himself.

“Don’t worry. It’s a side-effect of the drug the Coldhearts used.” Diran’s voice was soft and scratchy but audible. “It’s called the amber sleep, and it’s made from the leaves of a plant that grows in the jungles of Xen’drik. It’s rare and quite expensive. I wonder how Haaken got hold of it.”

“How do you know? Oh, right. Former assassin.” Ghaji struggled to break free of his bonds, but they held tight. He gave
up and turned toward Diran’s direction. “Do you still have any of your daggers?”

“Unfortunately not. Haaken and his people not only removed the daggers I carried on my person, they also took my cloak.”

Ghaji was disappointed but not surprised. After all, his axe had been taken as well. Still, they weren’t completely without weapons. “If you’re not already lying down, Diran, do so.”

Ghaji heard rustling nearby. “Done,” Diran said.

Ghaji sighed. He really didn’t want to do this, but he could think of no other way that they could get free. He wriggled over to Diran, lay down on his side, and shifted position until his head was next to Diran’s wrists. Then Ghaji opened his mouth, and using his sharp teeth, he began to carefully gnaw upon the rope binding his friend’s arms behind his back. It only took a few moments for Ghaji to free Diran’s hands, and after he shifted position once more, his feet.

Ghaji spat several times. “I hate the taste of rope.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice, my friend. Allow me to return the favor.”

“Nothing personal, Diran, but you don’t have the teeth for it.”

Diran chuckled. “Perhaps not, but allow me to see what I can find that might serve the same purpose.”

Ghaji listened as Diran searched the hold. He heard boxes being moved, lids being opened, contents shifted about as Diran felt around for something that would cut Ghaji’s bonds. The half-orc’s night vision adjusted to the hold’s darkness, and he was able to make out Diran’s form as the priest moved silently among the cargo, searching. After some time had passed without Diran having any success, Ghaji began to think that maybe things would go faster if his friend did employ his blunt human teeth to gnaw through the rope binding his wrists and ankles, but finally Diran said, “Ah, here we are!”

“What did you find?”

Diran returned to Ghaji’s side. The half-orc could see that his friend held some sort of object in his right hand, but Ghaji couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“A broken sword. Someone must’ve left it down here in hopes of either repairing it or selling to a smith as scrap. The edge is somewhat dull, but it should serve.”

Diran knelt down next to Ghaji and began sawing at his bonds with the broken sword. Diran only needed to cut partway through the rope, just enough to weaken it so Ghaji could break free, and within moments, Ghaji was standing next to Diran and rubbing his wrists.

“What now?” Ghaji asked. “Do we storm the deck without weapons and take on Haaken and his crew with our bare hands?”

“As emotionally satisfying as that might be, it hardly seems practical, does it?” Diran replied.

“So we wait down here for Haaken to come get us and try to take him by surprise? That doesn’t seem like much of a plan, either.”

“True,” Diran admitted. “I found a crate of oil. I suppose we could use it to start a fire.”

“And do what? Die of smoke inhalation? What if we survive the fire but the ship goes down? As cold as the Lhazaar is, we’d die.”

Diran didn’t disagree with him. “If Haaken simply wanted to kill us, he could have done so easily while we were unconscious. He’s obviously got something else in mind for us, and I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever it is lies at the end of our journey. Perhaps an opportunity for escape shall present itself once we arrive at our destination.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Ghaji asked. “Just sit here in the hold and twiddle our thumbs?”

“Well, I also found a crate of wine …”

Ghaji thought for a moment then shrugged. “Sounds like a plan.”

Skarm stood at the end of the dock in goblin form, watching as the elemental sloop sped silently out to sea. The barghest possessed many strengths, but flying wasn’t among them, and while he could swim quite fast in his natural form, there was no way he could ever hope to catch up to a vessel as swift as that one. The dragonwand had eluded him again.