CHAPTER SIX
Maskyr's Eye, 16 Flamerule, DR 1361, the Year of Maidens
The Fallen Harper left Maskyr's Eye as the sun set, riding Aendar's stolen warhorse. He led Drannamon's mount beside him, with the unconscious Sshansalue tied to the saddle. Inven had placed a dark hood over her head. His two henchmen followed closely on black-hairs, drinking sund by the skinful. Inven led the way, riding steadily but not hard. They travelled northwest, following a game trail into the forest. By midnight, they were well away from the village, and paused by a stream to water the horses under the moonlight.
As soon as Inven called a halt, the two Alskayl brothers hurried to relieve themselves in the stream, joking together in their loud, crude way. Inven dismounted and went over to his other horse. He untied his Harper prisoner from the saddle, though he did not release her hands or ankles. He lifted her to the ground, where he pulled back her hood and removed her gag.
Sshansalue's once-beautiful face had become a red and purple mask of bruises and dried blood. Her left eye was swollen shut, but she opened the other to stare blankly at Inven. He examined her head for a moment. Her long, golden hair had been mostly cut off, crudely and unevenly, but he saw no deep cuts in her scalp. The Fallen Harper took a flask from his belt, pulled open Sshansalue's mouth, and forced her to drink. The bardess spluttered and choked, but swallowed enough of the diluted healing potion to satisfy her captor.
"Beauty such as yours is a shame to waste, Sshansalue," he said quietly, so that only she could hear. He placed his hand on her waist, and slid it along her hip and down her thigh. "It will return to you, in time, I promise. You are worth a lot to me." He patted her on the leg. "Such a pity you will never be able to sing or speak again, but some precautions were unavoidable." He then replaced her gag and drew the hood back over her. "Who knows? Perhaps your new masters will even see fit to return your voice to you, as well."
When the brothers returned, Inven saw that they were drunk. "Who told you to chop off her hair?"
Ulcrimmon stared blankly at Inven for a moment. "Wha? Ya told us ta soften 'er up, boss. Ya din't say nothin' bout sparin' her hair," he said.
"Yeah," added his brother. "Her hair was purty. Gonna make me a nice pillow."
"Ya need us ta soften 'er up some more for ya, boss?" asked Ulcrimmon, eyeing Sshansalue.
His brother snickered. "Yeah, we could all have some more fun afore ya go."
"That won't be necessary," said Inven. He noticed the two half-orcs were slowly moving apart, one to either side of him. Ulcrimmon had his hand at his belt, near the hilt of his big knife. His brother held a spiked club low at his side. Their prisoner squirmed helplessly on the ground.
"Well then," said Ulcrimmon warily. "We'll be takin' the other half of our payment, now."
Inven smiled. "Fools gold for two fools," he said. The first sack of coins he had given them was a mere illusion he'd conjured. The two half-breeds obviously suspected nothing. By the time they learned the truth, it would be too late.
Suddenly, the two trackers rushed at Inven, coming at him from both sides. The Dalesman drew his sword. He slashed Ulcrimmon across the arm, and removed his brother's hand- club and all- at the wrist. Before either of the treacherous half-orcs could land a blow, they had been disarmed and lay on the ground.
"Meet Taverna," Inven said, "the Blade of Affliction." Inven tilted his sword so that the moonlight reflected off the glossy blade. "Bane of the beast-men, sword of kings."
Keeping an eye on Inven, Ulcrimmon struggled to his feet and went to aid his brother. Both began to look strangely nauseous. Suddenly, Ulcrimmon clutched at his stomach. "Curse you for a fiend, Inven," he snarled. "What have you done to me?"
"You have no idea what I was just talking about, do you?" The bard laughed. "Two-hundred winters ago, the lords of the Great Grey Lands found themselves beset by ogres too numerous to withstand. So, in the smithies of Glister they forged for themselves this beauty. The ogres thought themselves victorious, and returned to their encampments to divide their plunder. But those who had been wounded by Taverna soon fell ill. Their sickness spread among the camps. The plague spread quickly among those with foul blood, and many died. Thus the men of Glister had their victory. Now, begone, and count yourselves lucky."
When the two Maskyrvians fled off into the woods, Inven sheathed Taverna. On the ground, Sshansalue gave up her struggling and lay still.
***
Ghulluk labored up the tunnel, but was nearly overcome by exhaustion as soon as he emerged from the hidden cave mouth. His timing could not have been worse. It was still dark on the surface, but the battered orc warrior could go no further. He collapsed and lay hidden in the brush.
When the first light of dawn began to color the eastern sky beyond the mountains, he awoke. The short rest had done him good. He perked up his ears, and heard voices nearby. The lady-wizard's two bodyguards stood just inside the tunnel, wiping blood from their swords.
One of the Cult of the Dragon soldiers looked up from his grisly chore. "How many did you find?"
"Only two," answered the other. "They were both sorely wounded, and woulda died anyway."
"But you still finished 'em off like she said?"
The other nodded. "Aye, slit 'em wide open. There won't be any orcs comin' outta THAT hole."
Ghalluk overheard this from his resting place nearby. A great rage awoke in his black heart. "So," he thought to himself. "This is why the mighty Gruumsh spares my life."
Lord Ghalluk, Chief of the Clan of the White Tusk, rose to his full height. The two swordsmen could not see him in the pre-dawn darkness. His lips curled in a feral snarl, Ghalluk gripped his black sword.
Bursting upon them with a cry of vengeance, the orc-lord butchered the two men where they stood.
***
Maskyr's Eye, 16 Flamerule, DR 1361, the Year of Maidens
The Fallen Harper left Maskyr's Eye as the sun set, riding Aendar's stolen warhorse. He led Drannamon's mount beside him, with the unconscious Sshansalue tied to the saddle. Inven had placed a dark hood over her head. His two henchmen followed closely on black-hairs, drinking sund by the skinful. Inven led the way, riding steadily but not hard. They travelled northwest, following a game trail into the forest. By midnight, they were well away from the village, and paused by a stream to water the horses under the moonlight.
As soon as Inven called a halt, the two Alskayl brothers hurried to relieve themselves in the stream, joking together in their loud, crude way. Inven dismounted and went over to his other horse. He untied his Harper prisoner from the saddle, though he did not release her hands or ankles. He lifted her to the ground, where he pulled back her hood and removed her gag.
Sshansalue's once-beautiful face had become a red and purple mask of bruises and dried blood. Her left eye was swollen shut, but she opened the other to stare blankly at Inven. He examined her head for a moment. Her long, golden hair had been mostly cut off, crudely and unevenly, but he saw no deep cuts in her scalp. The Fallen Harper took a flask from his belt, pulled open Sshansalue's mouth, and forced her to drink. The bardess spluttered and choked, but swallowed enough of the diluted healing potion to satisfy her captor.
"Beauty such as yours is a shame to waste, Sshansalue," he said quietly, so that only she could hear. He placed his hand on her waist, and slid it along her hip and down her thigh. "It will return to you, in time, I promise. You are worth a lot to me." He patted her on the leg. "Such a pity you will never be able to sing or speak again, but some precautions were unavoidable." He then replaced her gag and drew the hood back over her. "Who knows? Perhaps your new masters will even see fit to return your voice to you, as well."
When the brothers returned, Inven saw that they were drunk. "Who told you to chop off her hair?"
Ulcrimmon stared blankly at Inven for a moment. "Wha? Ya told us ta soften 'er up, boss. Ya din't say nothin' bout sparin' her hair," he said.
"Yeah," added his brother. "Her hair was purty. Gonna make me a nice pillow."
"Ya need us ta soften 'er up some more for ya, boss?" asked Ulcrimmon, eyeing Sshansalue.
His brother snickered. "Yeah, we could all have some more fun afore ya go."
"That won't be necessary," said Inven. He noticed the two half-orcs were slowly moving apart, one to either side of him. Ulcrimmon had his hand at his belt, near the hilt of his big knife. His brother held a spiked club low at his side. Their prisoner squirmed helplessly on the ground.
"Well then," said Ulcrimmon warily. "We'll be takin' the other half of our payment, now."
Inven smiled. "Fools gold for two fools," he said. The first sack of coins he had given them was a mere illusion he'd conjured. The two half-breeds obviously suspected nothing. By the time they learned the truth, it would be too late.
Suddenly, the two trackers rushed at Inven, coming at him from both sides. The Dalesman drew his sword. He slashed Ulcrimmon across the arm, and removed his brother's hand- club and all- at the wrist. Before either of the treacherous half-orcs could land a blow, they had been disarmed and lay on the ground.
"Meet Taverna," Inven said, "the Blade of Affliction." Inven tilted his sword so that the moonlight reflected off the glossy blade. "Bane of the beast-men, sword of kings."
Keeping an eye on Inven, Ulcrimmon struggled to his feet and went to aid his brother. Both began to look strangely nauseous. Suddenly, Ulcrimmon clutched at his stomach. "Curse you for a fiend, Inven," he snarled. "What have you done to me?"
"You have no idea what I was just talking about, do you?" The bard laughed. "Two-hundred winters ago, the lords of the Great Grey Lands found themselves beset by ogres too numerous to withstand. So, in the smithies of Glister they forged for themselves this beauty. The ogres thought themselves victorious, and returned to their encampments to divide their plunder. But those who had been wounded by Taverna soon fell ill. Their sickness spread among the camps. The plague spread quickly among those with foul blood, and many died. Thus the men of Glister had their victory. Now, begone, and count yourselves lucky."
When the two Maskyrvians fled off into the woods, Inven sheathed Taverna. On the ground, Sshansalue gave up her struggling and lay still.
***
Ghulluk labored up the tunnel, but was nearly overcome by exhaustion as soon as he emerged from the hidden cave mouth. His timing could not have been worse. It was still dark on the surface, but the battered orc warrior could go no further. He collapsed and lay hidden in the brush.
When the first light of dawn began to color the eastern sky beyond the mountains, he awoke. The short rest had done him good. He perked up his ears, and heard voices nearby. The lady-wizard's two bodyguards stood just inside the tunnel, wiping blood from their swords.
One of the Cult of the Dragon soldiers looked up from his grisly chore. "How many did you find?"
"Only two," answered the other. "They were both sorely wounded, and woulda died anyway."
"But you still finished 'em off like she said?"
The other nodded. "Aye, slit 'em wide open. There won't be any orcs comin' outta THAT hole."
Ghalluk overheard this from his resting place nearby. A great rage awoke in his black heart. "So," he thought to himself. "This is why the mighty Gruumsh spares my life."
Lord Ghalluk, Chief of the Clan of the White Tusk, rose to his full height. The two swordsmen could not see him in the pre-dawn darkness. His lips curled in a feral snarl, Ghalluk gripped his black sword.
Bursting upon them with a cry of vengeance, the orc-lord butchered the two men where they stood.
***
