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While Patrick, Tor and Ria were being greeted by Lord Dorrik, Ban put everyone in the village to work finding the largest buildings and fortifying them. Ellen, River, Liselle and Quill went door to door, rounding up the women, the children, the sick and the elderly and relocating them to the three buildings that had been chosen as the ones to protect, then the men set to work boarding up windows and nailing shut doors.
By the time the sun set two of the three buildings were thoroughly secure and the occupants locked inside. It would take the soldiers a long time to break in; longer than it would take the visitors to dispose of them.
Quill and a number of other young women were housed in the inn. The only way to access it was through the front door, which would be barred from the inside the moment Seth, Modo, Torrick, Ban and Grimmel exited to confront the attackers.
They cooked then ate, all the while nervously listening for the sound of horses’ hooves outside. Hurst tried to keep them entertained by telling amusing stories of some of the things he had picked up while reading people’s thoughts, but nobody was really listening to him.
Suddenly the silence that had developed was broken by a gruff voice calling out.
“Quill my dearest. I have returned to you to get more of that loving you gave me last night.” The man sounded drunk and was slurring his words.
Ellen glanced at Quill, who was crouched in the corner, visibly shaking. River sat next to her, giving what reassurance she could.
Torrick handed a sword to his wife. “Lock and bar the door behind us. Do not open it again unless one of us asks you to.”
He quickly kissed her, grabbed another sword from the table and looked about him. Seth and Modo each had a sword in their hands, Grimmel was swinging an axe and Ban was carrying a large club over his shoulder.
“Ready?” he asked. They all nodded and he opened the door.
They stepped out into the night to see a dozen armed soldiers standing in front of the inn. None of them seemed to be able to stand up straight and even from that distance it was easy to detect the smell of alcohol on their breath.
“This is going to be easier than I thought,” Seth whispered to Modo as Torrick called out.
“Quill is not available tonight, so if you would kindly turn around we will let you leave in peace.”
The man standing in front laughed and looked around him at his friends. “What? You think you can stand up to us? A dwarf, a vexen, a tayman and a boy barely old enough to start shaving? You only have one real fighter among you. This is going to be fun. And when we have disposed of you, we are going to teach those women a lesson for standing up to us.”
As soon as he had finished speaking he rushed forward, his sword raised high above his head.
The fight was short and by the time it was over most of the soldiers were dead and the rest were unconscious. The only injuries on the defenders’ side was Grimmel, who had a gash down his arm. Ellen soon had him healed and he was claiming to be able to fight again that night, should the need arise.
The unconscious men were checked for serious injuries and, finding none, Ellen instructed Ban to take them to the stable and tie them up securely. She had requested that it be by the balls, but he knew she was joking about that part. At least he hoped she was.
No more attacks came that night and in the morning the other two safe houses were opened up so the residents could go about their normal business.
The dead bodies were buried before any of the villagers emerged from the buildings and there was no sign of the short but fierce fight that they had heard take place the night before. Most were curious as to what had happened, but none were brave enough to ask.
Quill knew that they had only won the first round and that a lot more soldiers would come later in the day, looking for their comrades. She was also aware that there had been nobody to protect the other villages nearby, but at least the first blow had been struck.
When Tor, Patrick and Ria rode in, before they could speak, a grinning Seth said, “We have a present for you.”
They released their horses into the field then followed him to the stables where the sight of the three trussed up men made them smile.
Tor stood in front of them, leaning on his sword. “There are a few things we would like to know. Firstly, how many of you are there? Secondly, where are the hostages being held and thirdly, where are all of the men who are being forced to work the mine?”
The gag was removed from one of them, who took the opportunity to spit at Tor, narrowly missing his boot. “You are going to be in a lot of trouble when Lord Dorrik hears what you have done,” he snarled.
“Really. Funnily enough, that is where we just came from. We know the full story. We also know that if any of your friends try to rescue you, we will be waiting for them.”
Tor had absolutely no idea how many men he would have to face or whether they would be able to fend them off, but he needed to act as though he was confident of their success if these men were going to tell him anything.
“Let me speak to them,” Ria suggested. She was playing with one of her knives as she spoke and the smile on her face made Tor shiver. “Alone.”
Against his better judgement, Tor agree. He and Patrick went to the inn to fill everyone in on what Lord Dorrik had said, while Ria removed the gags from the other two men, narrowly avoiding being bitten as she did so.
“That was not very nice,” she admonished and gave the man who had tried to attack her a sharp kick to his kneecap.
She then took her knife and started to clean her fingernails with it. Without looking at the men, she continued.
“Here is how it is going to work. The first one to volunteer to answer my friend’s questions gets to go to the inn and have a nice conversation. The other two get to play with me for a while.”
The three men looked at each other in confusion, wondering what the catch was.
Less than ten minutes later screams could be heard coming from the stables and everyone ran over. The three men begged to be allowed to talk and they were all taken to the inn for questioning.
Patrick looked around the stable, then at Ria. There was no sign of blood anywhere, her knife appeared to be clean and the men had no visible injuries.
“What did you do to them?” he asked.
“We just had a little chat. They seemed to believe I would actually do to them the things I was promising. Especially when I placed my knife in the nearest one’s shirt and began to cut it open.”
“What did you threaten to do?” He then paused and thought about what he was asking. “No, on second thoughts, I think I would rather not know.”
Together they walked back toward the inn. “One more thing,” Patrick continued. “Would you have actually done what you were threatening?”
Ria smiled at him in a way that made him wish he could avert his eyes without appearing weak. “We will never know now, will we?”
He swallowed and suddenly started to feel very sorry for the three captives.
They kept interrupting each other in their haste to tell Tor all they knew. They told him things he had not even asked about. When they said that if they had not returned to the mine by midday others would be sent looking for them, Tor looked into the sky. It would be a while before the new soldiers arrived, taking into account the distance between the village and the location of the mine, so the questioning continued.
When Tor had all of the information he needed the three men were fed then returned to the stable where they were securely bound and gagged once more.
A short while later a dust cloud could be seen down the road, indicating a group of mounted people were approaching.
A plan had already been devised and the men went to their hiding places while the women went into the inn.
Only ten riders appeared and they all dismounted outside the inn. They quickly looked around, but could see nothing out of place and no sign of their comrades or their horses.
Liselle opened the door to the inn and approached them.
“Can I help you?” she asked, the slight quaver in her voice being genuine rather than put on.
“Where are my men?” the man standing out front growled. He was tall and well-built with a scar running down one cheek. He had ‘brawler’ written all over him. From where he was crouching behind a low wall, Torrick could see everything and closed his fist around the hilt of his sword, ready to launch his attack the moment the man stepped closer to his wife.
“What men?” she asked with fake innocence. She was a good actress, which was why she had been chosen to be the spokeswoman.
“Some of my men came here last night and did not make it back, so I will ask again. Where are they?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. No men came here last night, for a change.” She desperately wanted to take a step back, but held her ground.
The man looked behind him to his men. “Search the place,” he ordered. “If anyone resists, do whatever you like to them.”
Taking this as a cue, Tor stood up, revealing himself, closely followed by Seth, Modo, Torrick, Patrick, Ban and Grimmel. Even Ria joined them. They had the men surrounded, if not outnumbered, and all were heavily armed.
“That might not be such a good idea,” Patrick said casually. “Unless, of course, you want to be buried with the rest of your comrades.”
“Who are you people?” the leader asked. He sounded concerned, but not frightened.
“Just a random group of strangers who happen to be riding through and took offence to the lovely ladies of this village being preyed upon by the likes of you. Now are you going to drop your weapons or do we have to make you?”
The man in the soldiers uniform glanced around him, mentally calculating the odds, while his men all looked toward him for orders. There were ten of them facing only eight others, one of which was a woman. However, the dwarf was swinging his axe like he had used it on heads a few times and he had heard rumours about how vicious taymen could be in a fight. The vexen was an unknown quantity as he had never heard of one fighting before and at least one of the four men held himself as though he was a trained soldier. If he chose to fight instead of surrendering a lot of his men would die and he could not be certain of the outcome.
Eventually common sense prevailed and he let his sword drop to the ground. His men followed his example.
“You will not get away with this, you know,” he said as they were led to the stables, their arms tied behind their backs. All ten were bound and gagged and put next to their friends.
“We are going for a ride to rescue Lord Dorrik and his people now,” Patrick took great pleasure in telling them. “We are leaving the women of this village in charge of making sure you do not escape. But I should warn you, we have handed your weapons over to them. They do not know how to use them properly, but what is there to know when your enemy is bound and defenceless? Bearing in mind what some of you have done to these ladies, and the fact that women are notorious for seeking revenge, I am not expecting all of you to be alive when we get back.”
With that he shut the stable door and bolted it.
“That was a good speech,” Quill told him. “But you do not really think any of us would attack them while they are defenceless, do you?”
“All I will say is that I am happy to help bury the bodies when I get back.”
Quill was looking very thoughtful when he left her.
Everyone except Hurst mounted up, leaving the villagers alone with the blind man. He knew he would be a hindrance and insisted on being left behind. They had no idea if they would be able to return, but they assured everyone that if their mission was a success their men would be home sometime that night. What would happen if they failed was best left unsaid.
Their first point of call was Lord Dorrik’s estate. The first three captured soldiers had told them that it was relatively unguarded. After all, with the threat to his family’s lives hanging over him, there was no need to guard the Lord.
They made no effort to hide their presence and as soon as he had dismounted Tor walked straight up to the front door and rang the bell.
It was eventually opened by the butler, who jumped back in surprise as Tor pushed passed him, his drawn sword in his hand.
“Where is he?” he asked, sounding surprisingly calm.
“Locked in his suite,” the butler stammered.
“And the rest of the servants?”
“In the kitchen, under guard.”
“Alright.” He turned to address his team who had all followed him into the house. “Half of you go with this man; he will show you where the kitchen is. Kill anyone in a soldiers uniform. The rest come with me. Ria, guide us please.”
As requested they split into two. There were no arguments as to who went where; they just went where they felt they would be of most value. Ellen, River and Liselle went to the kitchens in case any of the servants were in need of comfort or medical attention. Ban and Seth went with them, along with Grimmel, each secretly hoping that the soldiers would put up some resistance.
Modo, Torrick and Patrick went with Ria and Tor. This time Ria did not need to pick the lock; Tor just kicked the door down. He did the same with the bedroom door and was pleased to find that the Lord was not cowering in the corner, but instead stood defiantly in the middle of the room, ready to face whoever had broken in.
“Tor, Patrick, my friends,” he called out and ran over to them. They clasped his arms and told him they were there to rescue everyone.
“Thomas, what is the quickest way to your cellars?” Tor asked. “A very helpful bad guy told us that is where all of the arms have been stored.”
Without waiting to question what Tor meant by ‘a very helpful bad guy,’ Thomas led them from the room.
They easily found the weapons and Tor gave instructions for them all to be loaded into the wagon while he and Patrick searched the rest of the house.
There was no sign of intruders anywhere, except in the kitchen, where they had put on a disappointing display of token resistance before surrendering. They were tied up and locked in the now empty cellar.
The stable was full of horses, so Tor gave Thomas and his servants instructions to ride to the village and wait there for news. Eager to get as far away from the fake soldiers as possible, the servants did not need telling twice.
“Is my family alive?” Thomas asked before departing.
“We think so.” Tor did not want to give the man false hope by saying they were when he had no idea if he would be telling the truth or not. “If they are, we promise we will do our best to get them all safely returned to you. I can give no guarantees though.”
Thomas nodded. He appreciated his friend’s honesty. “Thank you,” he said simply, then rode away.
Their next port of call was the mine. Tor instructed the women to follow Thomas to the village, but they all refused. He knew that Ria could handle herself in a fight, but he was worried about the other three. They would be facing a far superior force, in regard to numbers, and their only hope would be to free and arm as many of Lord Dorrik’s captured soldiers as possible before anyone realised there was an attack under way. Ellen pointed out that it was highly likely that her skills as a healer would be needed and the other two said they would help her, effectively shutting down Tor’s arguments. In the end he gave in.
They decided to postpone attacking the mine until just as the sun was setting. By then it would be closed down for the night and the ‘miners’ would be locked in cages that had been built around it. Of course, the men who gave them this information could have been lying, but Tor did not think they were. Their terror at having spent some time alone with Ria had been genuine. If they left it any later they would run the risk that some of the soldiers would head to the villages once more and that was something they had to stop from happening.
They parked the wagon as close as they could to the mine, behind a hill, and unloaded it, passing the swords, clubs and spears they had found in the cellar from hand to hand up the hill.
Tor looked down at the campsite below that had been set up in front of the mine. There was a large fire going which lit up the whole area, revealing the dozens of cages full of ragged, starving men. There were a lot of uniformed men sitting around the fire, much more than Tor had been led to believe, all drinking ale and whiskey.
“Modo, do you think you can get Ria down there without being seen so she can start unlocking those cages?” The vexen nodded, then signalled to Ria to follow him.
“We need to get those weapons into those cages so that the men inside are fully armed when they break out,” Patrick observed. Tor nodded.
“Any idea how?”
“Send Grimmel down to talk to them. He is small enough to crouch next to the cages without being seen. If he can convince them to stay quiet, we should be able to set up a supply line down to him and he can slip them between the bars.”
“We will have to make sure we keep as quiet as possible,” Tor needlessly pointed out.
As Modo and Ria made their way down one side of the hill, Grimmel scrambled down the other. He approached the nearest cage and said in a gruff whisper, “Keep quiet. Help is on the way. Remain silent and I will pass weapons to you. We are working on unlocking the cages.”
Luckily the prisoners inside kept their wits and did not react to the sudden, unexpected voice. The nearest man nodded his head and passed the message on.
Meanwhile Modo and Ria had finished their descent and had found a boulder to hide behind. Closing his eyes, Modo slowly moved one hand around it and opened the eyes at the end of his fingers. He could see clearly. None of the guards were looking his way, so he and Ria made a quick dash to a stack of crates which were close to one of the cages.
“I need to get closer,” Ria said quietly and Modo nodded. Using his hands, he peered around the crates and confirmed nobody was watching.
“Can you lift these?” he asked. Ria gave it a try and found that they were empty and easy to move. “Move them slowly, one at a time, until they are piled up next to the cage. I will keep a look out and will tell you to freeze if anyone turns around.”
Their luck held and Ria managed to move enough of the crates that she could then hide behind them as she picked the first lock. One of the men inside saw her, but she put her fingers to her lips and he nodded his understanding.
While Ria was working on the lock, weapons were being passed from man to man down the hill before being handed over to Grimmel, who slipped them through the bars. Once everyone in the first cage was armed he moved on to the next. It was slow going and they were all aware that they did not have enough weapons for all of the prisoners, but they would do the best they could.
Ria and Grimmel, having started at different ends of the camp, moved toward each other so as to ensure as many of the armed cages were unlocked as possible. Once all cages on one side were unlocked and the men inside armed, they discussed how to get across to the cages on the other side. Then one of the uniformed men stood up.
“I am off to have some fun,” he announced. “Is anyone coming with me?”
There was a chorus of affirmatives and catcalls as others started to rise. Tor knew he had run out of time. Those men could not be allowed to leave the area.
“Now,” he shouted out and some of the cages burst open and armed men poured out. They were weak from hunger and overwork, but desperation gave them additional strength as they attacked.
The rest of Tor’s team, other than Ellen, River and Liselle, poured down the hillside and ran into the fight. Ria continued to work on the locks, freeing as many men as possible, while Modo protected her.
The men she was now freeing were not armed, but that did not matter. They grabbed anything they could use as a weapon and joined in the fight, some risking burning their hands as they took blazing branches from the fire.
At one point Modo was sparing with an attacker and Ria did not see another one approach from behind her as she worked on a lock. He raised his sword high, then slumped to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his side. The noise made Ria look up and she spotted Patrick halfway up the opposite hill. He had had the foresight to bring a bow with him and was now selectively picking targets, killing everyone he aimed for.
It was a long and bloody fight and by the time it was over a lot of men were dead. A quick inspection showed that the majority were dressed in soldiers uniforms and Tor gave a silent prayer of thanks.
Ellen put Liselle and River to work, inspecting the bodies of those who were not wearing uniforms to see if any were still alive, while she treated those she knew she could save.
Tor was exhausted and his sword was streaked with blood, but he knew his work was not yet over. He had not seen any members of Thomas’s family and knew they must be nearby.
“Do you know where Lord Dorrik’s family are being held?” he asked the nearest man.
“Somewhere in the mine,” he told him.
Grabbing Ban and Modo, he went to the mine entrance and peered inside. It was pitch black and not a sound could be heard from within.
“You may want these,” Torrick said and handed him some torches. “I found a pile of them over there.”
They were quickly lit and the four of them entered the mine. It was cold and damp inside and the smell of human suffering could not be ignored. It made them wonder what had been done to the men who, until now, had worked down there.
They went deeper and deeper until finally they picked up the faint sound of a child crying.
They quickened their pace and when they rounded a corner they stopped dead in their tracks. In front of them was a cavern. Another cage had been built inside it and it was crammed with finely dressed, though dirty, men, women and children. Some of the women and children were crying in terror as a man outside the cage held up a burning torch. The smell of oil hung in the air and Tor looked around and saw it had been thrown over those inside the cage.
Hearing Tor approach, the man outside the cage whirled around.
“Stay where you are,” he shouted. “If I drop this torch all of those people go up in flames.”
Tor placed his sword on the ground and signalled for the others to do the same. He then held his hands up, demonstrating that he was now unarmed. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I have my orders,” the man announced. “If ever any rescue attempt was made I was to kill everyone inside that cage.”
“So why have you not done so?” Tor asked calmly. He needed to get this man to relax and keep talking if he stood any chance of freeing Lord Dorrik’s family.
“I do not know,” the man stammered. “Either way, I am dead.”
“Look at them,” Tor commanded. “Look at their faces. See the tears in the children’s eyes.” Instinctively the man obeyed. His hand started shaking and Tor quickly brought his attention back to himself.
“They do not deserve to die. Especially not like this.”
“But I have my orders,” the man protested.
“Orders you know to be wrong.” Tor could see the man was full of doubts and continued on. “Extinguish the flame and throw away the torch. I promise nobody will kill you if you do.”
“No,” the man said, shaking his head and backing away. He moved to drop the torch into the oil that was pooled near his feet and trailed into the cage. Tor watched in horror as it fell from his hand.
But it didn’t reach the ground. He felt something fly past him, cutting his ear as it went. The arrow hit the torch with such speed that it sent it flying away from the cage. It hit the floor well away from the oil.
The second arrow took the man square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, struggling to breathe. Tor whipped his head around and saw Patrick walking toward him, bow in hand.
“You cut that a little fine,” he said as Ban and Modo rushed to the cage door and tried to break it open.
Patrick shrugged. “I had to wait until it had left his hand. If I had shot him instead I ran the risk of it falling into the oil.”
Tor clasped Patrick’s shoulder and started laughing in relief. Soon the cage door was opened and Lord Dorrik’s family walked to the surface, where they breathed fresh air for the first time in weeks.
“It was a nice shot though,” Tor said as he and Patrick followed them. Only then did he realise that his ear was hurting and he touched it gingerly with his fingers. When he pulled them away they were covered in blood. “You shot me,” he accused.
Patrick showed no sympathy. “Well keep out of my way next time.”
“Next time? What next time?”
Patrick just laughed and continued walking.