Volunteers
Galin cradled his broken right arm as they tossed him inside the dark cell, slamming the door shut. He grasped the dirt floor. Galin struggled to sit up, but got nowhere. The room was blurry and his head was spinning. What was happening to him?
A soft pair of hands helped Galin lean against the wall. “Are you all right?”
Galin could only manage a grunt.
Jena kissed his forehead. “It’s all right, my love. I’ve got you.” She touched his arm and bowed her head.
He struggled to keep his eyes open. He could see Jena’s mouth speak the incantation, but couldn’t hear it. He blinked. A warm sensation flowed over his arm and his mind began to clear.
Jena screamed as her right arm broke in two with a shard of bone sticking out of her forearm. She recoiled into a small ball, praying to Odella. A moment later, a soft light came over her. She rubbed her forearm as she slid next to Galin. “Feeling better?”
“Why do you do that to yourself?” Galin asked. He already knew the answer, but he always had to ask. Why would anyone take on the injuries of others and hope the mighty Odella would heal them? Nuts.
Jena smiled. “I can’t bear to have you hurt. After all, we still have to get married.”
“You can forget that crap, Jena,” Ellis said. “Didn’t you tell him?”
Galin looked blankly at Jena. “Tell me what?”
Jena kissed him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we can do anything about it.”
“About what?” Galin demanded.
“They’re going to hang us at first light,” Jena said.
“All of us? Not you and Ellis.”
Ellis nodded. “All of us.”
“They promised you wouldn’t be harmed! Damn him!” Galin yelled.
“Who?” Jena asked.
“Artis the Black. He promised to let you two go if I didn’t use my dragon magic.”
Jena blinked. “How does he know about that?”
Ellis looked way. Tears started to flow down his cheeks. “I…I couldn’t help it. It hurt so bad.”
Galin’s face softened. “I understand. But we still have to figure out what to do.”
“What about using your powers to get us out?” Jena asked.
“I’m not a mage. I need my sword to do that.”
“What about burning the ropes?” Ellis asked. “Like when we were captured by the goblins.”
“There was only one goblin awake and you two kept him busy.” Galin shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
When the sunlight crept through the window, the cell door burst open. Six men swarmed around Galin, Ellis, and Jena and threw black hoods over their heads. Galin felt iron shackles clamp onto his wrists and feet. “What’s this?”
“Don’t want you to burn through the ropes now, do we?” a man’s voice said.
“Did you really think we weren’t listening last night?” another said.
They hoisted Galin up by his shoulders and dragged him out of the cell.
Galin felt his feet dragging along a stone floor. The tips of his boots were sliding over the seams in between the stones. They hadn’t gone outside yet. Yeah, they had a chance if he could get out of these chains. Their only chance was to get free before they got outside. What about Jena? There were worse things they could to do her than hanging her if he got out, but failed. What would they do to her? Just because Artis the Black was not a man of his word about freeing them, would he be about hurting them? Screw it! He willed his rage to surface. The tingling came from his heart and spread throughout his body.
“Damn it,” a man said. “His skin’s getting hot to the touch.”
“He’s using his dragon magic,” Artis said. “Quick, knock him out!”
Artis? He was here, too. Galin tried to pull his wrists out of the shackles. A blunt object slammed into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. His world went black.
Galin jumped as ice-cold water splashed over his face. The morning sun warmed his back. He looked around. There was a newly constructed gallows in the market square, and he and his friends were its first customers. He felt the coarse rope around his neck as the executioner hoisted him up. His mouth was stuffed with a dirty rag from the stables. His hands were shackled behind his back and his feet were chained close together. Even if he managed to burn the ropes, he couldn’t do anything. How disappointed the Dark Elves would be when they found out that the human they feared the most had died at the hands of a traitor.
On a small platform, in front of the gallows, stood Artis the Black and his assistant, Lena. A ring of townsfolk stretched from one side of the platform, all the way around the gallows, until it reached the platform again. Galin saw the glee on Artis’ face. That bastard won!
Artis held up his hands. “Good morning, citizens of Drusas. Today, I bring you grave news about a terrible deed.” He pointed at Galin, Ellis, and Jena. “Those three were planning to attack Drusas, killing you and your families.” A crack of a smile made its way through that fake, stoic face. “As governor, I cannot allow such a betrayal to our glorious city, to you, and to our gracious rulers, the Darkstriders.”
Galin looked around. No one was joyful at Artis’ announcement; in fact, their faces grew redder. Were they going to be helped by the people?
The black-hooded executioner stood next to a tall lever, which would release the trapdoors under their feet at the far end of the gallows.
Artis raised his hands in the air. “My friends, today we celebrate a way forward in our new reality. With their deaths, we will prove to our rulers that we do not need their orcs to come down from the keep. Instead, let us prosper together.” He nodded to the executioner.
Galin stared at the hooded man, who just stood there. His grip on the lever was tightening, but he didn’t pull it.
Artis glared at the executioner. “Well? What the hell are you waiting for? Do it! Do it, now!”
“Don’t do it, Phil,” Karl said as he pushed his way through the crowd.
Artis blinked. “Sheriff? What are you doing?”
“It’s over, Artis. Your reign is finished.”
Galin looked behind the sheriff. The crowd started to follow him towards the platform. Lena stepped back, only to be blocked by the crowd encircling the platform.
Artis shook his head. “No, you can’t do this. I am the governor!”
“No, you’re the murderer those bastards put in charge,” Karl retorted. “Everyone here lost someone to your greed and lust for power. I’ll kill you!” Karl charged at the platform.
Artis glanced back at the five guards, still loyal to him, blocking the people from getting on the platform. He grabbed Lena by the arm. “I didn’t do it alone. She was the brains behind it all!” He threw Lena off the platform into the crowd of people. He disappeared behind the guards.
Lena jumped to her feet. “I told him not to hurt anyone. I told him not to steal from the nobles!” Her face went pale as the people took knives and short swords from underneath their garments. “I tried to save you! But, he didn’t listen.” She spun around again and again and again to face the advancing threat. The circle grew smaller as the vengeance-seeking townsfolk got closer. Tears flowed down her face. “I’m sorry!” she screamed.
Galin turned his head as his bloodthirsty saviors savagely killed her. After a few moments, there was nothing but silence. He looked towards the platform. There was a heap of flesh and blood that used to be Lena Blunt. How long had they been holding back their vengeance from their persecutors?
“Cut them down,” Karl said.
Jena took one look at Lena’s body and threw up over the side of the gallows.
Ellis didn’t even look at it.
“Was that really necessary?” Galin asked. “That was…barbaric.”
Karl waved his hand. “That was none of your concern, sire.”
Galin blinked.
“We’ve decided to join you.”
“What about the guards?” another shouted.
Karl walked towards the five guards being held by the crowd. “Hmm. Kill them.”
“No! Don’t do it!” Galin yelled. “I will not let my kingdom be reborn under such barbarism.” He walked over to the guards. “You saw what they did to Lena?”
They nodded.
“Do you want that to happen to you?”
They all shook their heads no.
Galin smiled. “Good. Start off by telling us, where is Artis the Black.”
“He ran to Iron Fist Keep, to get help,” a guard said.
“Will you join us? It’s either that or I’ll give you over to them.”
Without hesitation, they all nodded.
Galin looked at Karl. “I’ll let you handle them.”
“What now?” Karl asked.
Galin looked around. They were all looking to him as if he was already crowned king. “Who is coming with us to infiltrate Iron Fist Keep?”
“Abby and I will go,” Karl said.
“What about the rest of us?” a voice yelled from the crowd. “How can we help?”
“We have a few old knights who fought under your father in Drusas. They agreed to help you, and our people are thirsty for Darkstrider blood,” Karl said.
Galin looked over at the bloody pile of flesh that used to be Lena Blunt. “I see that.” His eyes focused on Karl. “I want them to start a riot near the keep, but outside of arrow range.”
Karl nodded. “To draw them out?”
“Yes, the fewer orcs we have to fight inside, the better. By the time they come back from addressing the riot, we’ll be in position to ambush them.”
“What about the governor?” Ellis asked. “Surely, he’s going to warn them.”
Galin swallowed. “Maybe, but that’s a risk we have to take.” Galin extended his hand to Karl. “Glad to have you with us.”
Karl shook it vigorously. “You’ve got no idea how long we’ve been waiting for your arrival, sire.”
Ellis grinned. “Let’s kick some orc ass!”
Tasar was in a small room next to the gatehouse in Iron Fist Keep. The walls were made of granite and the two windows were barred. He sat on a simple bed, rubbing the end of his right leg. Sure, the peg leg helped him get around, but the constant rubbing made his skin raw. He looked up as someone banged on the door. “Enter.”
A Feral Orc captain with two axes hanging from its belt opened the door. The bald orc had enormous arms and its skin was more gray than green.
Tasar rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Gul?”
Gul smiled. “An old friend is here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Artis the Black.”
Tasar put his peg leg back on and grinned. “I can’t wait to see him.”
He followed Gul downstairs and outside the gate. On the drawbridge stood Artis the Black. Tasar looked down at the moat. Molten rock flowed around Iron Fist Keep as if it was a volcano. Perfect! “What can we do for you, Governor?”
Artis’ shirt was soaked with sweat. His breaths were shallow and short. “I-I ran here all the way from Drusas. There’s-there’s been a revolt.”
Tasar raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“What revolt?” Gul demanded.
Tasar raised his hand, silencing the Feral Orc. “All in good time, my friend.”
Artis blinked. “Why is he listening to you? Did you join the Darkstriders, again?”
“Let’s just say that we have…mutual goals.” His eyes narrowed and his face hardened. “Why are you here and not fighting the revolt as we speak?”
Artis stepped back. The blood drained from his face. “I need help to retake the town.”
Tasar stroked his cheek. “I’d like to help you, but there’s a matter of the money you stole from me.”
“I’m sorry. I barely got away with my life. I wasn’t able to get my chests from the vault.” His lips began to tremble when he saw Gul cross his arms.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Tasar said as he walked next to Artis, who kept staring at Gul. “What are they planning to do?”
“I-I’m not sure.” Artis looked around as if the answer was lying on the ground beneath him. “I-I think they’re going to attack Iron Fist Keep.”
Gul yanked Artis by the shirt, hoisting him up in the air. “When? How do they plan to attack us? Tell me!”
Tasar shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gul, can’t you see he’s scared?” He leaned closer to Artis. “I’d tell him before he gets…antsy.”
Sweat poured down Artis’ face as he stared into the orc’s eyes. “They have an army in the mountains and they were seeking volunteers in Drusas. The-the boy uses dragon magic.”
“How’d you manage to capture him?” Gul asked.
“We threatened his fiancée,” Artis replied.
“I see.” Tasar rubbed his chin. “So, why would they attack the keep that way? They must know if they put Iron Fist Keep under siege, reinforcements will come.” He glared at Artis. “Can you explain that?”
Artis nodded. “Yes, they were looking for people who were familiar with the inside of the keep, so they could open the gate for their army to run inside.”
“What about the traitors from Drusas? What will they be doing?” Gul demanded as he shook Artis. “Tell me, damn it!”
Tasar smiled. “You’d better tell him.”
“I don’t know! I really don’t know,” Artis sobbed.
Tasar watched the yellow stream run down Artis’ leg, forming a pool of urine beneath him. “For some reason, I believe him.”
Artis tried to smile. “You see,” he said to Gul, “I can help you.”
“Do we really need him?” Gul asked Tasar.
Tasar waved his hand. “I’m good.” His dark, sunken eyes narrowed. “How about you, governor?”
Artis shook his head. “No, I can help you. Please.”
Tasar pointed at Gul’s feet. “I think he pissed on your shoes.”
Gul looked down. The urine puddle settled around his leather boots. “Damn humans!” He tossed Artis off the drawbridge. His screams stopped as he was swallowed by the molten rock. Gul stared at the moat for another moment. “Suggestions?”
“Yes, we stop them from raising the gate.”
“How?”
Tasar grinned. “We catch their scouts that try to sneak inside.”
“What about the town?”
“Who cares? The more pressing matter is the army in the mountains.” Tasar looked up at Gul. “Send a rider west to Staerdale Castle and let them know what is happening. If this uprising gets a hold of this keep, it will take a lot of Darkstriders to get them out, maybe even making the kingdom vulnerable elsewhere.”
Grul looked beyond the drawbridge, towards Drusas. “Very well. If I was them, I’d try to draw us out, to thin out our ranks.”
Tasar nodded. “Sounds…logical. May I send a letter with your rider?”
“Who’s it for?”
“My daughter, Chalia. She’s joined your ranks, just like her mother, Beldroth.”
Gul smiled. “I fought with Beldroth. She was an amazing pyromancer.”
“The best,” Tasar said. Both Tasar and Gul hurried inside.