Cordelia crouched on the hilltop overlooking Zurkutsk. “Not much down there,” she said. “What’s that tall structure?”
“The lift,” replied Belgast. “If you look closely, you’ll see the horses that work the mechanism.”
“Fascinating.”
“That’s only half of it,” added Athgar. “Inside the building is a large room they raise and lower to transport the prisoners to the mine.”
“It must be of Dwarven construction.”
“It most certainly is not!” declared Belgast. “No Dwarf worth his stone would consider such a crude way of working a mine. We’d use gears instead.”
“What’s a gear?” asked Cordelia.
The Dwarf shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll explain it later. Now, if memory serves, that long building to the right of the lift is the barracks.”
“No,” said Athgar. “That’s a prisoner hut.”
“Is it?” Belgast squinted. “So it is. I beg your pardon. The barracks must be the building on the left of the lift.” He looked at Athgar and shrugged. “We broke Athgar out nearly two years ago, and things developed quickly. You can’t blame me if I don’t remember every little detail.”
Athgar pointed. “There’s a guard.”
Cordelia surveyed the entire mining area. “You weren’t far off the mark when you said they were lightly armoured. That one is wearing a leather vest; I’d hesitate to call it a jacket. Are you certain there aren’t more heavily armoured men inside?”
“We could continue to watch and find out.”
“I doubt that will add anything.” She looked skyward. “It’s almost noon. Are there set mealtimes?”
“The prisoners earn their meals by digging out magerite. I have no idea what they supplied the guards with in the way of food or how often they ate.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“The man in charge of the mine works out of that building near the entrance.”
“Two guards are standing outside its door.”
“That’s new,” said Belgast. “I don’t recall seeing them on my last visit.”
“They’ve taken down the palisade,” replied Athgar. “It used to encircle the prisoner’s huts. I wonder why they might have done that?”
“Likely to keep a closer eye on them,” replied Cordelia. “Were the hut doors padlocked when you were here?”
“No, they most certainly were not.”
“That means we’ll have a little more work ahead of ourselves once we’ve taken the place.”
“Now that you’ve seen it,” said Athgar, “what do you think?”
“It’s designed to keep people in, not out. From our perspective, there’s not much to stop us from entering the camp. However, there’s more to this than overpowering the guards. We must also ensure no one runs away, or we could end up facing a relief force. Did that happen when you escaped?”
“I presume so, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”
“They have more horses than last time,” noted Belgast. “When Stanislav and I came to rescue Athgar, only a dozen horses were in that pen. There appears to be double that now.” He snapped his fingers. “Corderis! I forgot about him.”
“Corderis?” said the Temple Captain.
“Yes. Corderis Stormwind, the man in charge. If his name is any indication, he’s a Water Mage.”
“Might there be other mages present?”
“I couldn’t say,” replied the Dwarf. “However, during the uprising, Corderis was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he used his magic to keep himself safe? Could he know the frozen arch spell?”
Athgar shook his head. “Natalia thinks only the most advanced Stormwinds are given access to it, and I can’t imagine one of them being tasked with the responsibility of a mine. That would be like a noble getting his hands dirty with planting crops.”
“He’s still a Stormwind. We shouldn’t dismiss his spellcasting abilities.”
“I’ll detail six knights to rout him out,” said Cordelia. “The main column will come from the west, riding straight to that entrance. Temple Captain Gabriel will work her way around to the east, moving in from there.”
“And Kragor’s hunters?” asked Athgar.
“We’ll split them half and half. They’re not required to take down any guards unless they look like they’re running away or casting a spell.”
“Please be careful not to target prisoners trying to escape.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” said Belgast. “I imagine they’ll all be wearing those belts.”
“Oh yes,” replied Athgar.
“Belts?” said Cordelia.
“Yes. Leather belts with loops used to chain them together whenever they move between the huts and the mine.”
“What else should I be aware of?”
“How much do you know about the family?”
“The Stormwinds? According to Natalia, someone named Marakhova controls them. I assume she’s relatively old?”
“She is,” replied Athgar. “They often refer to her as the matriarch.”
“Easy enough to remember. What about the mine itself? Are we expecting to attack it?”
“No. Anyone down there has to come up in the lift. I can’t imagine the guards would try to fight their way out.”
“There’s also the matter of those bellows,” said Belgast. “If they refuse to surrender, we’ll stop blowing air down there.”
“He makes a valid point, but I’d prefer not to do that. Our main objective is to rescue those prisoners. If a few guards die in the fight, then so be it. I have no sympathy for them.”
“I understand that completely,” said Cordelia. “I was once a prisoner of the Halvarians, and they treated me abysmally. I doubt I’d let them surrender if I found myself amongst them now.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Rest assured. My people will do all they can to help those prisoners down there.”
“Good. Then we’d best get moving. I’d like this over and done with by nightfall.”
Slavil Yenkov halted. “My feet are sore.”
His companion, Igor, was not sympathetic. “What do you want me to do? Carry you?”
“You could let me sit down and rest.”
“Are you mad? The captain would slap us both in irons!”
“Easy for him. He sits in a nice comfy chair all day long.” He gazed over at the small hut standing off to one side.
“Keep your voice down, you fool, or he’ll hear you.”
“And what if he did?”
Igor moved closer, grabbing Slavil by the front of his tunic. “Listen, you ungrateful goat. Do your job and keep your mouth shut, or we’ll both face the lash. Understand?”
Slavil opened his mouth to respond, then his gaze locked on something in the distance.
“What are you looking at?” Igor turned, noting the approaching horsemen. “What’s this?”
“Horsemen,” said his companion.
“No, really? Go inform the captain we’ve got visitors.”
“Why do I have to do that? You know he doesn’t like me. You do it.”
“Listen, you little turd. Do what you’re told, or so help me, you’ll be complaining about more than just sore feet.”
Slavil walked over to the hut and disappeared inside while Igor moved closer to the gate. It was more akin to a garden fence, stretched between two low stone walls, hardly much of an obstacle, but despite this, the riders slowed. They wore armour, yet he had difficulty determining who employed them: the king or the Stormwinds?
“Trouble?” The captain’s voice startled him.
“Knights, sir,” Igor replied.
“I can see that. Go find out who they are.”
“Yes, sir.” Igor opened the gate and proceeded towards the riders, holding his hand up. The knights halted while one advanced, a sash presumably denoting rank of some sort.
“Who commands here?” came a woman’s voice.
Igor let out his breath. The family must employ them, for the king would never consider women for such a role. “Corderis Stormwind,” he replied.
His captain moved up beside him. “What’s going on here?”
“Stand aside,” the knight commanded, then urged her horse forward. Igor moved aside, eager to avoid being crushed beneath its hooves, but the captain stood his ground.
“You hold no authority here,” he said.
The knight ignored him, her horse forcing him out of the way as she drew her sword and raised it on high, then swept it down, and those following her advanced.
The captain swore, then tried to yell out a warning, but the knight’s sword took him in one clean, efficient swing, and he fell to the ground, motionless.
Igor turned and ran, almost tripping in his haste to escape. He raced for the trees, certain Zurkutsk was doomed. He assumed the family had decided to erase the mine from existence, killing everyone in the process. As he neared the treeline, an arrow hit him square in the chest. His legs lost their strength, and he fell to his knees, staring down as blood trickled out of his mouth. Another arrow struck beside the first, and then he toppled over, quite dead.
The Temple Knights flooded into the mining camp. A few brave souls tried organizing a defence, but a charge by six heavily armoured knights soon had them throwing down their weapons.
Cordelia lifted her visor, the better to survey her surroundings. Ten knights had dismounted and entered the barracks, searching for any resistance. It appeared this would be over in a matter of moments, and then a searing pain lanced through her leg. Her horse collapsed beneath her, screaming in agony, the stench of burned flesh evidence of what had happened.
She rolled as she’d been trained and came up into a crouch, sword in hand. Another streak of flame shot past her, knocking a knight from the saddle.
Cordelia hobbled towards the source of the magic, a man with snow-white hair and a beard preparing to cast another spell. She dropped just as he pointed at her, narrowly avoiding yet more flames.
She pushed up, ready to launch herself at him, but her pain-laced leg buckled, and she collapsed. The mage came closer, staring down at her with pure hatred.
“Pray to your blessed Saint,” he said. “It is time for you to die.”
He threw out his hands, ready to cast, and then an arrow pierced his neck. His eyes widened, focusing momentarily on something behind Cordelia before he collapsed.
Kragor pushed past her, bending to retrieve his arrow, then nocked it and scanned the area. “It is safe,” he said at last. He moved closer. “Are you hurt?”
“He took out my horse with that fire of his,” replied Cordelia, “and I’m afraid it damaged my leg.”
“Shaluhk will be here soon and can heal it.”
“I must see to my command.”
“Then lean on me, and I shall support you.”
A Temple Knight drew closer, then dismounted. “Take my horse, Captain.”
Cordelia hauled herself into the saddle. “Thank you, Sister Carmen. Go to Temple Captain Gabriel and find out how their attack is progressing.”
“Yes, Captain.” The knight ran off.
“Would you do me a favour, Kragor?”
“If I can.”
“Unless I’m mistaken, that’s Corderis Stormwind over there. He should have a set of keys that will prove useful.”
The Orc grinned. “I shall see what he has in his possession.”
Natalia wandered through the camp. The fight had been vicious but short, with none of her people suffering serious injuries, but it wasn’t over. With control of the surface, they must now see to securing the mine. To that end, they prepared to lower the lift.
“I shall go down,” announced Belgast. “They might see me as less threatening. We’re trying to convince the guard down there to surrender, not fight to the death.”
“I’ll accompany you,” said Athgar.
“Are you certain that’s wise?”
“We need to convince the prisoners we have their best interests in mind. My presence may help.”
“I suggest taking a Temple Knight or two.”
“I’ll go,” offered Cordelia.
“You’re wounded,” replied Athgar.
“I cured her,” said Shaluhk, “and I assure you, she is still capable of defending herself.”
“And who in their right mind,” said Belgast, “will offer resistance to a mail-clad knight?”
“Into the lift with you,” said Natalia, “but I want you out of there at the first sign of trouble.”
Once they were ready, the platform lifted slightly and swayed. Men moved forward to remove the large timbers holding it in place, and then the ropes and pulleys lowered them into the mine.
“Quite the contraption,” said Cordelia. “I don’t believe I’ve seen anything similar before.”
“What, this?” replied Belgast. “Far too crude for my liking. It sways like an apple about to fall from the tree. If this was Dwarven-made, it would be solid and dependable.”
“What can we expect when we reach the bottom?”
“There will be a rough-cut tunnel,” replied Athgar, “leading into a larger chamber where they remove the chains and issue tools. At least they did when I was here; things may have changed since then.”
“It’s very bright down here,” noted Cordelia. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“They use magical orbs,” said Belgast. “At least these people managed to get that right.” The lift bumped to a halt. “Come on. Let’s get this over with before these tunnels collapse.”
“Would they really do that?”
“No,” said Athgar. “Belgast just likes to complain about anything not built by Dwarves.”
“Can you blame me?” grumbled his companion.
An enormous fellow greeted them as they emerged into the chamber.
“I don’t remember you,” said Athgar.
The man grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “The name’s Giliad. I suspected something was happening up there, so I prepared a little surprise for you.” He stepped to one side, sweeping his arm to indicate those behind him.
A large group of prisoners huddled together, still bound by chains looped through their belts. Their pale faces held a haunted look that was the stuff of nightmares. A handful of guards stood watching over them with naked blades, ready to strike.
“This is how things are going to go,” continued Giliad. “Me and my friends will ride that lift to the surface, then walk away as free men.”
“And what makes you think we’ll let you do that?” Athgar asked.
“If you don’t, these people are dead.”
“I presume,” said Cordelia, “you intend to take them with you?”
“Only until we’re safe, then we’ll let them go.”
“I cannot permit you to do that.”
“Who are you to make such a statement?”
“Temple Captain Cordelia of the Order of Saint Agnes.”
“What makes you think I won’t order these people killed?”
“Do that, and you no longer possess anything to bargain with.” She stepped forward, drew her sword, and, in a flash, held it at the man's throat.
“Now,” she continued, “release the prisoners, and I’ll ensure you’re not condemned to death.”
“I was only doing my job.”
“There is no excuse for the treatment these people have endured.”
Giliad raised his hands. “I give up. Release them, boys. It’s over.”
His men obeyed, tossing their swords to the ground. Belgast moved in, snaffling a ring of keys from Giliad. He began releasing the prisoners.
“Athgar?” said a familiar voice. “Is that you?”
The Therengian moved closer. “Felix? I thought you dead?”
“No. Simply recaptured.”
“Is Alfie here?”
“I’m afraid he’s no longer with us.”
“What happened?”
“He died of starvation.”
“But I showed you how to find magerite.”
“Aye, you did, but none of us realized there is only so much to pull from the ground. The mine’s nearly depleted, and without enough magerite, we’ve received little food.”
As Athgar was about to respond, a glint of steel flashed off to his right. Before anyone could react, a prisoner had picked up a discarded sword and attacked a guard. The rest quickly followed suit.
Belgast pulled Athgar out of harm's way. Cordelia stepped forward, only to be halted by the Dwarf’s words. “No,” he called out to her. “Let them settle this.”
The Temple Captain stood, stunned, as the prisoners exacted their revenge. Giliad was the last to go down, pummelled to death by more than a dozen fists. She looked away, sickened by the sight.
Athgar conjured flames as the prisoners drew closer, causing them to halt their wild onslaught. He let the fire die down. “We came to liberate you. Gather your companions and make your way to the lift.” He singled out Felix. “Are there more guards down here?”
“A handful.”
“We’ll take care of them,” said Belgast. “Come along, Cordelia. We’ve got some work to do.”