10/8...later that evening
The
gnome pushed east through shoulder-high scrub and brush. Stealth and speed
played vital allies in his journey. Twilight would be coming soon in the high
pass. The high peaks of the Torrent Mountains block daylight’s beams by late
afternoon. Undoubtedly that’s why such dark creatures prefer the mountain passes.
These peaks are no exception. Hundreds of gnolls and bugbears patrolled the
high valley. Escaped goblins and hobgoblins may also be about, hungry for an
easy meal. Alone and unarmed, Migi proved easier than a sloth in a lone tree. The plants would keep him from easy spotting, but may reveal him to
the keen listener.
Forge Valley meant safety. This mission
is over. No further could he hold his mask of deception. Someone had to know by now. Here
lies vulnerability and death over a slow fire, if he was lucky. Once at the
ridge he stopped. The hair on the tips of his ears bristled in the wind. Nothing
but the thin pines stirred in the fading light. Corenia had already sunken behind the spine of
Kethdar opposite the wide valley below. The rigid structure of the city lay on the near side of the basin. Down the draw and a through
rough grass would only take a few more hours. Jak's company will have to survive the
fight and make it back. It will be useful to put together what is happening back
there.
The long crawl became more cautious as
dark shadows stretched over the rocks. Birds returned to their larch nests. The pines
whispered a soft hush as the cold evening wind caressed the slopes. As long as the starlight
remained, he could make it. His head throbbed. His spirits grew as the land
flattened out in front of him. His pace quickened through the grass. Thirst, hunger, fatigue;
these familiar concepts were pushed to the back of his mind. He must go on.
He must reach town. A gnome could be worth lunch in the wild world. Migi’s
life often determined a dynasty’s survival or fall. To this end he had ensured
his ability to blend in with the city. Once within the solid walls, Migi’s unparalleled social
skills ensures he sees the next morning.
Looking half-dead, Migi stumbled
through the fields beneath the eastern wall. As he approached the gate, a guard
called down to him, “Who goes there?” Too parched to answer, Migi stumbled
forward. He clasped at his chest for one of his guild insignias. All had been
taken. “Hey! You, gnome!” The voice above him bellowed. His audience
numbered few, but he had the stage. Migi fell to the ground. His face lay on
the compacted road. He clutched with fingernails, attempting to pull his body
forward. Two guards rushed over to him. He looked up at the guards with one
eye.
“By the Cudgel’s Grace, what happened
here?” Migi’s fingers pawed at the dirt, tracing a guild symbol. The simplest thing to draw that everyone knew. “The Silver Sword
Guild? What happened man? Can you hear me?” In the
middle of the street, with guards watching over him, the exhausted gnome
drifted off. This was as good a place as any to sleep. Sympathy was a powerful
tool which he relished to exploit.
10/8
Hours pass in the sparse forest. Migi
employs his trapping skills around a small cave. Encircling trip wires surround
the high ground. Scattering dead leaves over carefully placed caltrops, he made
one final inspection. Monstrous beasts never had much patience for shoes. What
a shameful disadvantage.
With
a guiding hand, Migi marches the load towards the lakeside camps. The bugbear
guards see him and wave him forward. They look as his short caravan of goods
and stop him. “Thought you could use a little celebration banquet,” pointing to
the casks. “Come help me with these. Where is everybody?”
“They
at temple. Master inside temple.”
“Then
we’re still on schedule. Perfect. Have the gnolls found that group yet? Or are
they sitting around counting their gold?” The plug at racial bigotry needed a
few more tugs.
“They
send more patrols. They pay with blood, Master says.”
“Well,
can’t argue with that. Looks like a good night for a feast. It’s not easy
getting mutton in the mountains. So did Master say what he’s doing once he has…
you know: IT? I’d like to know when I’m heading back into town.” Migi flashes a
double wink.
The
fury beast scratches at his chest. “Gnolls already upset with town. They attack
soon. They set fire to it and kill nasty dragon man.”
Migi’s
curiosity sparks. “The Dragon man? Who’s this dragon man?”
“Dragon man attack us. He kill Erthynul servants. They
know where dragon man is and going to attack. Bugbear leader still talking to
Master. We go where he says.”
“I
see. Well, I’d better check with Master to see what he wants me to do next.
Tell the chief we’re glad to have the loyalty of such a fine warriors. Much
blood will run through your fingers. I’ll be back soon to see if you need anything
else.”
Migi
sets out toward the gnoll encampment. Once out of site, Migi runs back to his
camp. That’s enough information to go on for now. He needs to get back to the
Forge Valley before the army does. Surely there will be more than 200 gnolls attacking
a small city. When he reaches the cave and finds a cat suavely perched on a
nearby rock. The grooming feline pauses a moment and looks up. A low growl and exposed
teeth force Migi to pause. His eyes widen as he spins around. Crack! He tries
to focus on the person holding the club but can’t. His vision blurs as he falls
to the ground. Something light pounces on him and walks up his chest.
“That
takes care of one of them,” exclaimed a silky voice. Migi mumbles incomprehensibly
on his back. The rest of the world fades to darkness.
...
A
swollen eye cracks open. Migi’s scruffy beard rubs against his chest. He
reaches for his throbbing head only to feel a tug at his legs. “Ugh.
Seriously?” He weight shifts as he rolls his head. He looks at the tree slowly
swaying in front of him. Aside from the rope, no trace that his capture is
nearby. “Seriously!?” Flexing his fingers he reaches for the hidden knife in
his boot. The gnome squirms, swinging ten feet in the air.
A
distant rumbling scares a flock of birds from their roost. The creaking pendulum
freezes to discern the situation. Distant drumming and explosions echo off the
mountain slopes. The sounds resonate from the lakeside. “It’s time I got out of
here.” His body writhes in the air. Black smoke billows up from a mile away.
Fingers squeeze into his left leather leggings. He grabs the wooden handle.
“What in the…” His fingers flounder around a short, bladeless length of wood.
“Garl’s gold fillings!” His head flings around in all directions holding back a
flood of curses behind grit teeth.
He swings his way to
the rope. With twisting contortions he manages to grab the tethered line. He
maneuvers the rope between his knees. “I don’t believe this.” He wraps his
mouth around the rope. Strand by strand, he gnaws at the tethered line. The distant
fires lay a blanket of smoke through the trees. Amidst the explosions, nobody
notices the thud a bound gnome falling in the woods. With a short squirm to a sharp
rock face and he’s back in business. Bruises don’t stop him from making an
expeditious escape back down to town. Curiosity can have the cat. He has his
life.
