Zorvut bit his lip—he had realized it when Kyrenic first spoke, but it was sinking in more fully now. The decision had been taken from him, as had his hope. He no longer had any choice in the matter. With their weakened forces, if the clash turned to army against army, they had little chance against all of Drol Kuggradh’s forces, even if Hrul hadn’t gathered more warriors to him as Zorvut suspected he had.
But single combat for the title of warlord would very well be an even match. Hrul was still bigger and stronger, but though he was no elder he was also no longer young, a far cry from the frightful warrior who had killed the leaders of so many other clans and bound them to his own.
If he could keep the upper hand fighting one-on-one, with the extra surprise factor of his magic… If their plan had any chance of success, he would have to be the one to kill Hrul Bonebreaker.
6
Taegan
Taegan didn’t spend much time sleeping after his and Naydi’s conversation, too nervous to do anything other than pace around—though there wasn’t much else to do anyway. His mind was racing, playing out as many possibilities of their plan as he could imagine. If they managed to subdue the first guard, and the second up the stairs, and if no one else was standing watch, and if they were able to be decently disguised so that no one recognized them, and if Naydi could get them past the city gates without anyone stopping them, then they would probably be alright. But whatever lay beyond the city gates, he couldn’t account for. They had been underground so long, and he’d been magicked to Drol Kuggradh so suddenly, he couldn’t say with any certainty what the weather would be like, but he assumed probably cold in the mountains especially if they would go northeast toward the elves. That could be a problem. All he had aside from his blankets was the loose sleeping robe and pants he’d been teleported in, and his boots he had slipped on in a hurry. It was cold even down here, and if he wasn’t walking around his cell he was wrapped as well as he could manage in the rough blankets atop his pile of hay to keep warm. Even if they could steal the guards’ clothes, if it snowed…
But it would only be a few days to the elven outpost, he thought, even by foot. It was right along the edge of the northeastern border between the orc wildlands and the very northernmost point of Aefraya. Drol Kuggradh was quite far to the north as well, but he was fairly sure that there was no road leading directly to the outpost, so it would be difficult to judge when they would need to veer off the main road and out into the wilderness. That could cost a few extra days. And again, if it snowed, it would significantly slow them at best, and kill them at worst. If the gods had any mercy for him at all, it would not snow.
He thought about Naydi’s plan to carry him out of the city. That seemed the only option as far as he could tell, as he certainly could not walk out. He would bet all the gold he had back in Aefraya that he was the only elf in Drol Kuggradh, so there would be no mistaking who he was for anyone who might see him. He would have to stay hidden, and they had nothing except what they could find here. He could curl up enough that she could probably wrap him up in the blanket, or maybe a bigger piece of fabric or clothing if there was one in the upper level. It would just depend on what they could find, and if Naydi could take on the guards. Maybe if he could get his hands on an orcish shortbow he would be able to help, but that seemed unlikely.
All in all, it seemed like the odds were stacked against them. The guard could kill Naydi, or they could be recognized in the city, or a band of wandering orcs could find them on the road or in the wilderness, or they could succumb to the elements. Was it worth the risk?
Taegan desperately did not want to die there. He did not want to die at all, of course—he wanted to go home to his husband, his family. But if he was going to die, better to die fighting than to die helpless as a prisoner. He was sure Zorvut was coming for him, but he could not say with any certainty how long he had been here, or how long it might take Zorvut to arrive. Maybe, if they were able to escape and made good time, he could prevent Zorvut from having to make the dangerous journey at all.
That was the hope he would cling to. They would escape, and he could spare Zorvut from having to come to such a dangerous place, from having to come confront the warlord in his home. Whatever came after that, they would deal with then. If he could get back to Zorvut and help ensure his safety, then the risk would be worth it.
But now all he could do was wait. So much of the plan was out of his hands, so he kept pacing and thinking and trying to account for as many different scenarios as he could imagine.
It had been several hours when he finally heard the unlatching of the door up the stairs to the left. For the first time that he could remember since being imprisoned here, he felt warm, almost sweaty, though it was surely just because of his nerves. He shot a nervous glance toward Naydi’s cell, but in the dim darkness he could not see her at all.
The door swung open, and a bit of flickering torchlight reached them—it must have been the orc with the bad eyesight who always carried a torch. Usually he gave Taegan his food first, which was perfect. If things went poorly and Naydi wasn’t able to subdue the guard quick enough, he figured he could throw the tray through the bars as a distraction.
Sure enough, the guard turned toward him first as he descended the stairs, balancing two trays on one arm as he held the torch in the other. Taegan watched from the back corner as the guard set down one tray, fumbled with the ring of keys attached to his belt, unlocked his cell, swung open the door, pushed the tray of food inside, and closed the door once more to lock it again. He grabbed the food off the tray—bread and cheese this time—but kept his eyes trained on the guard, his heart pounding.
Taegan glanced over at Naydi’s cell again as the guard turned away. This time he could see her in the torchlight, standing at the bars of the cell. She met his eyes briefly before glancing up at the guard, who paused at her door. Though his back was turned to him, Taegan could imagine him scowling at Naydi as he barked something in orcish and she took a begrudging step back. This seemed to satisfy him, though, as he shuffled the keyring and the second tray between his hands, unlocking her cell.
The guard bent down to set her tray of food on the floor, and that was when she lunged at him, leaping to tackle him to the ground while he was off-balance. There was a shout and a clatter as they fell onto the tray of food, and Taegan dashed up to the bars of his cell to watch more closely. The guard’s torch fell to the ground, too, casting the two struggling figures in a dim flickering light as the flame sputtered.
He could just make out the orc’s mouth, open and trying to shout, but Naydi had worked quickly to get him in a chokehold, pressing her full weight onto the guard’s neck. Desperately he reached up and grabbed Naydi by her hair, and she howled in pain as he yanked, trying to rip her off of him.
Taegan dropped the bread he was holding, picked up the metal tray, and wedged his arm between bars. It was difficult to aim, but he flung the tray as hard as he could manage. Despite his archer’s eye, though, the tray hit the guard in the knee—it made a painful metallic clanging sound at the impact, and a choked noise of pain escaped from his gritted teeth, but it didn’t seem to dissuade him from digging his fingernails into Naydi’s scalp.
Even from this distance and in the dying light of the torch Taegan could see blood starting to stream down her face from where he was clawing at her. But she made no sound beyond the first initial, startled cry, her arm still wrapped firmly around the guard’s neck, and after what felt like an eternity his movements slowed and stilled, and finally she released him, letting the guard’s limp form collapse to the ground.
He did not realize how hard he was breathing until they fell into silence when his movement stopped. The torch had almost gone out, but there was just enough light that Taegan could see Naydi wipe blood from her eyes as she straightened over the still form of the guard.
“Not good,” she muttered, and in the faint light he could see her eyes glancing over at him. “Not good. Let’s move fast.”
“Toss me the keys,” Taegan said, his voice still a low whisper. She bent down to pull the key ring from the guard’s body—whether he was unconscious or dead Taegan couldn’t tell—and tossed it in the direction of Taegan’s cell. The keys clattered along the dirt floor, sliding up to the metal bars, and he winced at the loud sound before reaching through to grab them.
The angle was tricky and he wasn’t sure which key exactly was the right one, so it took some trial and error before his cell door finally unlatched and he pushed it open with a euphoric rush of adrenaline. Though he knew he wasn’t free yet by any stretch of the imagination, he certainlyfeltfreer just opening the door. When he looked back over to Naydi, she had stripped the guard of his uniform and pocketed his dagger, and was shoving the hunk of bread that had fallen to the floor into her mouth. That wasn’t a bad idea—he glanced back at his own food and took a bite of his own bread. After all, he had no idea where their next meal might come from.
“Stay quiet,” Naydi murmured, stepping through the door of her cell. “Still one more.”
And as if on cue, from the left side of the long hall he could hear the wooden door unlatching and swinging open, and he swore under his breath as they both looked down toward the door then back at each other. An orcish voice called out, and he froze in a panic. What now? Could they fight off another orc, without the surprise that had given Naydi the advantage with the first one?
“Give me keys,” Naydi hissed, and the urgency in her voice made him toss the keys back to her without a second thought even as his brows furrowed in confusion. In the flickering torchlight her expression looked positively grim. “Listen. You not know about my plan. I force you out. Understand?”
He nodded, though it took a beat for him to process what she was saying—before he could reply, though, the voice called out again and now he could hear footsteps coming from the stairs. Taegan took a few nervous steps backward into the cell, and Naydi gave him one last inscrutable look before turning back to the door and charging, bellowing something in orcish that he did not understand. But the sounds that followed were understandable even without language; a startled shout, a scuffle, what sounded like more footsteps coming from above, and then light flooded the hallway, making Taegan wince. A multitude of voices were shouting now, but the light was blinding to his eyes that had grown so accustomed to the darkness and he could barely make out the blurry shapes of several more orcs now, most carrying torches, trying to haul Naydi off another guard who she had pinned to the ground.
His heart sank all the way to the bottom of his stomach at the sight, taking any hope of escape down with it. With that many guards together, even if she could somehow fight them all off, their escape certainly would not go unnoticed. As his vision adjusted to the new light he could see one of the orcs, this one without a torch in its hands, raising a weapon—something blunt and heavy, maybe a mace—and bring it down hard over Naydi, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away as the sickening, recognizable crack of bone breaking pierced the air, followed by a shriek of pain. Even from this distance he could tell her arm had been broken with the impact, sticking at an unnatural angle as they finally wrenched her off the guard she had grappled. With his clearer vision he could see four orcs, plus the one on the ground now stumbling to his feet. If there had been that many in whatever building the dungeon was attached to, then they had never really had any hope of escaping at all.
Two of the new orcs with torches were hauling Naydi to her feet, dragging her up the stairs, but the first guard pointed down the hallway with one hand as he dusted off his clothes with the other—pointing toward him, Taegan realized with a start. The orc with the mace started walking toward the cells, and fear seized him as he stumbled all the way to the back of his cell, pressing his back up to the cold stone wall. The hulking figure appeared in the doorway, and the orc scowled as he pushed open the unlocked cell door. He shouted something in orcish, the other guards shouted something back, and the orc stepped inside the cell.
