The Sundered Arms dad-8

  The Sundered Arms

  ( Dungeons and Dragons - 8 )

  T. H. Lain

  T. H. Lain

  The Sundered Arms

  BUNNY

  Even hindered by his skirts, Devis quickly outran everyone.

  "Wait until I get my hands on that half-elf," growled Tordek as he watched the bard vanish down the dark street. No matter how he pumped his thick dwarven legs, the predominantly human mob at his back drew ever closer. Their murderous shouts grew louder than the clanking of his plate armor, and he could almost feel the heat of their torches on the back of his neck.

  With a stride even shorter than Tordek's, the halfling Lidda ran at his side. In her lightweight leathers, she could have easily left him behind, but she remained loyally at his side. Despite their peril, she could not suppress a grin as she shot back, "That's what got us into this mess in the first place, hero!"

  "Let's…not…talk about it," panted Tordek. "And I told you… never to call…me that!"

  If the townsfolk caught up to them, Tordek knew Devis would escape while he and Lidda suffered their full wrath.

  After his own death, Devis's escape was the last thing Tordek wanted.

  "You're the one who kissed-"

  A spear slammed into the road in front of Lidda. She threw herself to the side, tumbling deftly around the obstacle while barely breaking stride.

  Tordek grunted his approval of her skilful maneuver without looking at her. Lidda beamed at the compliment, even as she, too, kept her eyes forward. She might have enjoyed the chase, but she knew as well as Tordek that they were running for their lives.

  A hail of rocks fell around them, and one heavy cobblestone clanged off Tordek's pauldron. It struck close enough to his head that he wished he'd worn his helmet into the tavern rather than leaving it in his wagon.

  "Which way did he go?" he yelled. There was no sign of the half-elf or his conspicuously bright orange dress.

  "This way!" shouted Lidda, veering to run between the cooper's and the wainwright's shops.

  Tordek followed, trusting his companion's sense of direction better than his own, at least above ground. The alley between the buildings was cluttered with empty barrels, stacks of timber, and wagon wheels. A thin corridor of moonlight drew a line from one end to the other. At the far end was an unpaved road leading away from Caravans Cross, toward the nearby farms. Dense woods loomed on either side, promising shelter from the eyes of the angry mob.

  "Head for the trees!" called Lidda. "We can double back to the wagon once we're out of sight." She wasted no more breath but dashed ahead with a burst of speed. Just as she emerged from the alley, four big figures lunged at her from both sides.

  Lidda shrieked in alarm and threw herself into a forward somersault. The men fell into a bone-crunching tangle of surprised shouts and flailing limbs as the nimble halfling rolled low and darted out from beneath their grasp. The men had missed their target, but as they sorted themselves out, the would-be ambushers ignored Lidda and turned to glower at the dwarf still trapped in the alley.

  Torchlight spilled into the narrow passage between the buildings, and Tordek did not even have to look back to know that his pursuers blocked his escape. Their shouts subsided into the ominous mutters of a lynch mob that knew it had its quarry.

  One of the burly men who stood between Tordek and the road yelped and clutched his head.

  "You'll catch the next one in the gnarlies if you don't stand aside!" shouted Lidda. She held another stone high in warning.

  Tordek knew the man might just as easily be dead if the halfling had used a sling to launch that missile. In his opinion, Lidda was far too kind to townsfolk and other dumb animals.

  "Hurry, Tordek!"

  "Always wear your helmet to town," Tordek muttered, as if intoning a universal wisdom that would one day be inscribed on the hearthstone of every dwarven home. He lowered his head and charged straight toward the men barring his way. One of them raised a rake, while another defended himself with a stout oak quarterstaff. The other two crouched and held out their arms as if to grab an escaping hog.

  Tordek barreled into them head first, knocking two to the ground and sending a third tumbling high over his shoulders to hit the ground with a thump. The man with the rake was canny enough to step aside, but when he raised his implement to stab down at the dwarf's undefended back, he doubled over with a horrid, sobbing moan.

  "I warned you," said Lidda, dusting off her hands.

  "Stop gloating," warned Tordek, hastening past the dazed figures of his would-be captors. "They're almost upon us."

  Without another word, they rushed across the road and toward the dark shelter of the woods, but it was too late. Two more clusters of torch-wielding townsfolk had already circled the buildings and closed in from either side. Tordek and Lidda could only put their backs to the woods and turn to face their doom together.

  More than four dozen citizens of Caravans Cross converged on them. Those who didn't carry torches bore quarterstaves or pitchforks, and a few held swords or the long spears of the volunteer militia. All of them glowered at the outsiders, their eyes filled with greed and hatred. No one could mistake their intentions for their trapped quarry.

  The townsfolk brought along Devis, the bruises on his fair face already deeper than the rouge that had been his disguise. His yellow wig was gone, and the shoulder of his dress was torn away. The townsfolk hadn't bound his hands, but the way his head lolled suggested that one of his captors had already given him a good rap on the skull.

  "Are you prepared to meet your maker?" Tordek asked Lidda. He reached back to unsling his war axe from its loop on his back.

  "Not really, no," said Lidda. She made a quick flourish, and twin daggers appeared in her hands as if by a prestidigitator's trick.

  "Then stop playing patty-cake with these oath-breaking devils, and draw some blood! By Clanggedin's Axe!"

  Together, they screamed and raised their weapons as they charged toward their assembled foes.

  Like a school of fish under a shark's shadow, the townsfolk turned as one and fled back through the alley. They dropped everything as they ran, leaving behind only the creaking of the crickets and the sizzling of a half dozen torches dropped on the damp ground.

  Tordek and Lidda gaped at their retreating foes. They turned to stare at each other, bewildered by the effect of their bluster on the formerly ferocious mob. Tordek looked down at Devis, who sprawled on the ground at their feet, still stunned by the blow to his head. It was obvious to Tordek that he had done nothing to send the townsfolk screaming back into their homes. He and Lidda looked back at each other, their astonished expressions gradually transforming into self-satisfied grins.

  "Well, you were pretty fearsome," said Lidda. "There's nothing like a good dwarven war cry."

  "I should have known they would bolt," said Tordek, glad despite his bluster that he did not have to slay the townsfolk. They might be cowardly cheats with no respect for the laws of hospitality, but the gods would punish them for those crimes. This way, at least the blood wouldn't be on his hands or Lidda's. "You weren't bad yourself," he told her. "Most terrifying halfling this side of Arvoreen."

  "You really think so?" said Lidda. She sheathed her daggers with a theatrical flourish. "You aren't just saying that?"

  "It's true!" protested Tordek, slinging his axe. "Why, you nearly scared me."

  "Uh, pardon me," said Devis. Struggling to disentangle his legs from the unfamiliar skirts, he rose unsteadily to his feet. "I don't think they were afraid of the two of you."

  "What do you mean?" said Lidda, with genuine curiosity in her voice.

  "Aye," demanded Tordek. He planted the head of his axe on the ground and seemed far less in
terested in an explanation than in an immediate apology. "What else could send them running?"

  Devis backed cautiously away as he pointed behind them. "That."

  Tordek and Lidda turned to see a mountain of rippling muscle under a thick, dark pelt. They looked up and saw a massive torso that must have weighed as much as ten Tordeks. They looked up more to see claws like black scythes. At last they looked up to a height greater than three dwarves, and they saw the savage face of a dire beast.

  Lidda fell backward and scrambled away from the brute, soon outpacing Devis on her hands and knees.

  "Oh," said Tordek. He stood in the creature's black shadow and crossed his wrists nonchalantly over the butt of his war axe. "Is that all?"

  "Greetings, Tordek." A voice like a warm breeze on a forest stream came from behind the monstrous wolverine. An elf emerged from behind the huge animal, her fair skin luminous in the moonlight. She wore tough hide armor and carried a wooden shield festooned with feathers and a great elk antler. She stroked the beast's flank, and the animal dropped down to all fours. The top of its shoulder still loomed high over Tordek. "I hope Gulo has not frightened your friends too badly."

  Tordek glanced back to see Lidda and Devis huddled together, gradually regaining their courage as they saw him standing calmly beside the newcomers.

  Tordek turned back to the elf and nodded at her, as if to an old but not entirely welcome acquaintance.

  She nodded back. "It is time to settle old debts."

  An hour later, the four of them stood staring out from the woods at the burning heap that had been Tordek's wagon.

  "They stole my mules." Tordek scowled at the flames.

  "At least they only hurt the wagon," observed Vadania. "It gave them something on which to vent their wrath. Better it than you." The druid had sent Gulo away to forage while Devis and Lidda adjusted to the great beast's presence. "Fortunately, I was able to retrieve your packs before they found the wagon."

  Tordek took his helmet from the pile of rescued belongings and set it gratefully upon his head. "I'll not take this off again until Caravans Cross is a spot on the horizon."

  Devis straightened and tugged at the hem of his short jacket. He had already used the diversion of Gulo's sudden appearance to slip back into the inn through a second-floor window and fetch his gear, forsaking his feminine garb in favor of quilted trousers and a one-sleeved jerkin. He also soothed his injuries with a song-spell, leaving his handsome face unblemished and his demeanor considerably merrier. Despite Tordek's earlier threats, the half-elf seemed oblivious to the dwarf's continued glowering.

  "I care little for such towns," said Vadania. "So many people packed so close together. It makes them mad."

  "We weren't planning to stay the night," said Tordek. "We were here only to collect our pay and move on."

  "Then everyone wanted to buy us a drink," said Lidda." 'A toast to the heroes of Caravans Cross!'"

  "Heroes," spat Tordek. His contempt for the word was palpable.

  "Only it turned out what they really wanted was to get you drunk and steal back the bounty they paid for those bandits, eh?" Devis smirked.

  "Oath breakers," spat Tordek.

  "Luckily for us," said Lidda cheerfully, "you and Tordek had that little misunderstanding."

  "Hey," said Devis. "That wasn't my fault! He pulled me into his lap."

  "I thought he was a tavern wench," said Tordek, looking away from Devis.

  "Lady in waiting," corrected Devis. He sighed dreamily. "To that raven-eyed beauty from the merchant lord's entourage."

  "What is this?" asked Vadania, arching one silver eyebrow.

  "Nothing," said Tordek. "Just a mistake."

  "What a mistake!" cried Lidda. "The moment Tordek touched-"

  "Lidda," warned Tordek.

  "-when he realized," she amended, "that Devis here wasn't really a woman, the husband of the lady you'd been 'attending' became awfully interested in you."

  "It wasn't my fault!" protested the half-elf. "How was I supposed to know the girl was his wife? She could have been his daughter. His granddaughter, even!"

  "It would have been all right if he'd seen you leaving the bath with his granddaughter this morning?"

  Devis scratched his chin. "Not as bad. Besides, most of the time, the worst that happens is they insist you marry the girl."

  "Before or after they castrate you?" Somehow, Lidda managed to appear as though she were looking down on the half-elf, even though he was nearly twice her height.

  Devis just grinned. "Doesn't matter. I usually get away before the actual wedding."

  "Usually?" asked Lidda. "You mean you had to get married once?"

  "Once or twice." Devis shrugged.

  "Once or twice!"

  "All right, maybe it was six times," he replied. "Anyway, no harm done. I got away with all my parts and bits."

  "You have six wives!" yelped Lidda. Her lip trembled in a quarrel between awe and disgust.

  Tordek snorted and shook his head. "Disgraceful."

  "Say, dwarf," said Devis indignantly. "You're the one who tried to kiss me."

  "Not my fault you have such a pretty mouth," said Tordek. "The dress fit you nicely, too."

  Devis grinned. "Well, I do have a pretty mouth."

  "I will call him Bunny," said Vadania. The others looked at her to see whether she had cracked a smile, but the elf's face remained serenely composed. "You know," she added, "because bunnies tend to-"

  "We get it," said Lidda.

  "Hey!" protested Devis. "I'm not sure that's the kind of nickname I want to be stuck with."

  "Then maybe you shouldn't go hopping from burrow to burrow," suggested Tordek. He hefted his pack and slung it onto his back, checking to ensure that its position did not impede his ability to draw his axe quickly.

  "I like it," said Lidda, giggling as she pulled her own pack onto her shoulders. "It's sort of sexy."

  "You think so?" said Devis. "Bunny," he tested the name. "Bunny. 'Call me Bunny, sweetheart.' Hmm, maybe it's not so bad."

  Lidda and Vadania stared at each other for two heartbeats, then simultaneously burst out laughing. The halfling's laughter was as cheery as sleigh bells, the elf's as gentle as morning rain.

  Tordek sighed and stomped away from Caravans Cross, leaving Devis to look from the elf to the halfling.

  "What?"

  As Devis stared at the women, they gradually regained their composure, looked at him pitifully, and turned to follow Tordek.

  "Hey!" he called after them, grabbing up his own pack. "Where are we going?"

  TALES

  Tordek awoke to the smell of roasting venison. Peering toward the campfire, he spied Lidda turning juicy strips of meat on skewers stuck into the ground next to the campfire.

  Beside Tordek, Devis snored gently under an oft-patched woolen blanket. Tordek thrust a stiff pair of fingers into the half-elf's ribs.

  "Rise and shine," he said, poking Devis again. "Bunny."

  Grumbling, Devis began extricating himself from his bedding.

  Tordek found the stream and washed himself, smoothing back his red hair with wet fingers. He felt the braids in his beard and decided they were still properly tight. He shook out his outer garments and re-secured his plate armor. By the time he went back to the fire, Vadania had returned from scouting their surroundings. She handed him a tin cup of strong tea.

  "So it's morning," said Devis, warming his hands on his own steaming cup. "We're miles away from that town. Now will someone tell us where we're going?"

  "You are not going anywhere," said Tordek. "Not with us. This business is between me and Vadania."

  "Actually," said the elf, "after last night's rescue, I suggest that all three of you owe me a favor."

  Tordek scowled but did not dispute her claim.

  "Sounds fair to me!" said Lidda. Tordek shook his head at how blithely the halfling promised her help, but he knew her well enough to realize she could never pass up an opportunity for adve
nture or treasure.

  "Say, I didn't ask to be rescued," complained Devis.

  "Perhaps you would like Gulo to take you back to Caravans Cross and return you to the merchant lord?" suggested Vadania.

  "On the other hand," allowed Devis, nodding toward Tordek, "I am curious why you went to the trouble of tracking down this sour-faced gargoyle."

  Lidda kicked his shin.

  "Ow," complained the bard, but he gave the halfling a flirty wink in return for her rebuke. She turned away a second too late to hide her pleased expression.

  "Listen," said Vadania, "and I shall tell you a story."

  "Yes!" Lidda clapped. "I love a good story."

  Tordek leaned forward attentively, and even Devis perked up at the prospect of a tale.

  "Twenty-two days ago," said the silver-haired elf, "the streams near my home began running red."

  "With blood?" gasped Lidda.

  "Don't interrupt," said Devis, kicking at the halfling's shin but missing.

  "With iron slag and some stinking, steaming poison," continued Vadania. "It sullied the water and killed the creatures that lived within it. I tracked the filth to the vents of an ancient dwarven stronghold."

  She paused as if for dramatic effect and watched Tordek for a reaction. At last, the dwarf spoke.

  "Andaron's Delve." It was not a question.

  "Aye," said Vadania, "the very place."

  "I've heard of that," said Devis. "The dwarves themselves turned against the master of the place, a blacksmith of fabled skill."

  "Andaron the Black," said Tordek. "A name accursed for over three hundred years."

  "Why was he cursed?" asked Lidda.

  Vadania shrugged, and Tordek stared at the fire, refusing to speak.

  "In his pride," said Devis, his voice falling into a taleteller's cadence, "the smith-king forged a battery of arms for his most loyal thanes. Not content to invest the weapons with the meager blessings of Moradin-"

  "Have a care, bard," warned Tordek, displeased at any slight to the great god of his people.