Chapter Eleven

Night, After the Landslide
Foothills of Ephel Dúath

Inside the orc's den, one lone torch had survived to cast a faint glow through the dust that continued to drift and settle over men who had thrown themselves to the ground as bits and pieces of the ceiling rained down upon them. The flickering light gleamed on wide, staring eyes and grit-coated faces as men stared about them to see if the world had stopped falling. They found only pressing darkness as the cavern rattled with the slide of settling stones, and then was silent. Too silent. The world outside seemed to have vanished. Huddled against the wall, Sev coughed against a fog of choking dust and shoved aside a large clump of earth that had crashed inches before her face. Pushing herself to a seated position with her bound hands, she slid closer to Nik.

Before she could speak, the little uruk's sharp teeth flashed a happy grin in his dust-covered face. "That was Russ. He's come for me."

"I'm sure you're right, Nik. There can't be too many bears like that in the neighborhood." Sev replied, keeping to herself the thought that one was enough.

Slowly those who were able climbed to their feet. Voices edged with a fear held firmly in check called out to ask the well being of companions. Grady's curt reply was among them, and Sev entertained a brief, sour thought that her luck continued to be all bad.

Finding them for the moment ignored, Sev said quietly, "Let us hope bears are good at digging, for I think we are in a bit of trouble, here."

Other torches were lit, and someone found a lantern that had missed being shattered. Landis held it aloft to reveal that the cavern's opening had disappeared, replaced instead by a spilling wall of rock and debris. In the wavering light of the lantern, the huddled figure of a dust-covered Horus showed that at least one of those who had been near the entrance had made it safely back into the cave. A partially buried body beside him was evidence that not all had been so lucky. Horus shook his head as Landis went down on one knee beside the body. Then a voice called him from the darkness at the rear of the cave.

"Landis, over here. It's Evan."

With a last look of regret, Landis turned from the man he could not help to move swiftly toward the voice. His lantern revealed the pain-etched face of the boy whose leg was bent at an unnatural angle.

Handing the lantern to another man, Landis knelt beside the boy and asked, "Well, lad. What have you done to yourself?"

"I slipped -." The boy's freckled face gleamed with a dull sheen of pain-induced sweat. "I was trying to get out to Neal, but everything started falling and I guess I got hit."

Even in the ruddy glow of the lantern, Evan's face paled as Landis knelt and ran his hands gently along the leg. "Well, never you mind, we'll get you some help."

Standing, Landis turned slowly to look at the shocked faces spread about the cavern. They had no way of knowing how many who had stood in the entrance had escaped outside or how many others might lie crushed in the rubble. Oren he had last seen felled by the bear-man, and Darien ... may fortune grant that his friend yet lived. Landis shook his head and turned his mind to those at hand. All had small cuts from falling rock, Horus had a wide gash on his forehead while another man cradled an arm, but none were injured as greatly as Evan. And none present had the skills needed to aid the boy, except one. Making his decision quickly, Landis moved to stand before the woman.

"Sira said you were a dealer in potions and pills. Do your skills extend to broken limbs?" Landis said.

These words pulled Grady from the corner where he had been huddled in fear and shock. He shoved his way through the other men to growl, "You can't let her touch the boy. She's more likely to cast a spell on him than heal him."

Sev stared up at the men for a long moment. If she refused to help, in her mind that would make her as evil as she considered them. Even in Nurn, she had treated those of the enemy who wished her help.

Holding up her hands, she said, "I can't do it tied."

Landis drew his knife and quickly cut the bonds. Rubbing her wrists, Sev stood and met Grady's eyes with scorn. "If I could cast spells, I'd certainly not waste them on a boy. You, however, would make an interesting toad."

With a toss of her head, she stepped around Landis to make her way to Evan's side. After a quick assessment of the boy's leg, she said crisply, "I'll need a knife, some strips of cloth and some narrow pieces of wood to make into splints. And if any of you have any sort of strong liquor, the boy would do better for a drink of it."

As Sev turned a stern face to him, Landis patted the closest man, Horus, on the shoulder and said, "Get her what she needs. Watch her, but do as she says."

The dark man nodded and moved to gather the items requested.

Landis met Sev's solemn look with a nod, then taking Grady firmly by the arm drew him to the blocked entrance. "Let's see what we can do about getting ourselves out of here."

Grady readily agreed. His nerves felt shredded and his heart was hammering. He needed action. Whenever he felt this way he would either fight, as he had done against hoards of orcs, or he would run, as he did from that evil monster outside. Here he could do neither. Worst of all he could feel the enveloping tons of rock and earth pressing on his mind.

xxxxxx

The silence that gripped the snowy clearing was almost greater than the thunderous chaos of sound that had just ended. Somewhere in the darkness stones clattered sharply and a heavier thud beat its way downhill and was still.

"Evan?" The sudden voice echoed, and then cracked as it shouted again, "Evan!"

His breath suddenly coming in tight, fast gulps, Neal turned helplessly with his sword sagging in his hand, seeking a form he did not see. "EVAN!"

Looking on the devastation before him, Darien let his sword drop silently into the snow. His men stood as stunned as he did, and slowly began to gather at his side. Seeing his gesture, one by one they laid down their own arms. They had no heart left to fight with, nothing worth defending, so they became prisoners; eyes gleamed in the snowy dark, elf and warg, and the darker forms of Men and orcs closed around them. Monroe knelt beside Oren's bloody body, he and Carrick having dragged the injured man with them as they fled the avalanche, and he checked, with little hope, for signs of life.

"Evan ..." Neal said again, but now his voice faded into the realization of despair. His young brother was somewhere beneath or behind the countless tons of a fallen mountain.

"Neal," said Darien, and his words rasped from a dry throat. "Lay down your sword, lad."

At the sound of that voice, the one-armed ranger pulled himself stiffly to his feet. He stood an instant then turned towards Darien, fury visible in his very stance. Of all people who deserved to live, the captain of those who brought Sev to this place was not one. Anardil's hand went to his sword, but Celebsul appeared at his side and spoke softly, "Not now, Dil."

He could feel the man trembling beneath a light touch to his sleeve as they locked eyes. But Anardil looked down first, and let his hand fall away as he mutely nodded, once.

Then in a louder voice that took in the 'enemy', the elf said, "If we can work together, we will all rescue our friends the quicker. Can we put aside our differences until that is done, or do we fight out here while they suffer entombment?"

"Do you think they're alive?"

Neal's voice cracked again, and the young man's breath caught with an audible hitch as Celebsul looked at him.

"I think we must find out," the elf replied.

"You had best pray that they are alive, all of you," Russ said, looking at their disheveled prisoners and casting an especially hard look at Darien. "Or you will owe a debt beyond your reckoning. One that shall not go unpaid."

What form that payment might take, none asked, or needed to. The implications of the big man's words were all too obvious. Anardil's silent stare signaled his tacit and heartfelt agreement.

"Me an' lads'll 'elp." Feet scuffed and gasps came unbidden as Darien and his men drew back from Gubbitch's slouching approach. "Need some tools, we will. Picks 'n shovels 'n rock bars." The orc swiveled to look past them at a looming dark form. "That's a big 'un, all reet. Tha'll 'elp us wi' 'aulin' shorin' and such, eh?"

A growl rumbled from the Beorning's motionless figure before he replied, "I will."

"Reet, then. Be back. C'mon, lads, got work t' do." With that, the dark figures of the orcs turned and shambled into a trotting pace, clumping away into the grey twilight of a snowy night.

"Where - where are they going?" Neal asked.

"To get tools," Celebsul replied reasonably.

Darien turned, frowning. "How far do they have to go?"

Celebsul's tone cooled subtly as he replied, "As far as they need to. Rest assured they will be back with the tools we need."

"And you will dig."

Darien flinched from that voice almost in his ear, swiveling to realize the man he had seen on his knees now stood beside him. Even in the dark there was no mistaking the barely-restrained malice radiating from him.

"Yes," Darien replied woodenly. His men were somewhere in that wreckage of mountainside. His men. He had led them to this, and he had misread every warning sign; disaster was well and truly his, now. "Yes, I will dig."

The man grunted and stepped away.

"The woman -." Darien spoke, and felt the man's eyes pin him like stiff fingers. "She is your wife?"

"Her name is Sevi." The words were smooth and cold as a whisper of drawn steel. "And her worth is not measured by who she does or does not belong to."

One of the other men touched his arm, one of the Rangers, and the one-armed man let himself be guided away. Darien drew a long, icy breath and noticed that the snow was now filtering on top of his boots, nearly two inches deep. Snow and night and a mountain falling down, and these were the most ordinary things of recent hours. He did not wish to look at the other four elves, watching like wolves, nor the Beorning's massive figure, and so he faced Celebsul again.

"What should I do?"

"Gubbitch mentioned shoring." The elf turned to glance up at the bear man. "Russ, do you think we could find logs in the woods that would suffice?"

"Yes," Russ replied. "We need good wood, new-fallen in the last six months, not rotten or broken."

Nodding, Celebsul said to Darien, "Then we have our task."

With more than a little trepidation, Darien motioned to his men to follow as Russ turned and set his long, slow stride towards the trees. Around them the snow sifted silently down.

xxxxxx

In her experience, lingering over the injury only gave the injured more time to dwell on how much everything would hurt, so Sev set to work briskly. Nearby, Horus' eyes followed her every move, but he did not speak nor did he interfere. Cutting away Evan's legging to reassure herself that the skin was not broken, Sev studied the freckle-faced boy solemnly. Uncertain whether the nervous looks the boy gave her were due to anticipated pain or to fear that she would cast a spell on him, Sev frowned slightly. His flinching at her touch was going to make aligning the bones almost impossible.

"Are you afraid of me?" Sev asked him suddenly.

The required bravado of a teenaged boy stepped in to bring a look of disdain to his eyes. "Of course not."

Whether false or real, his reaction was just what she had hoped. Giving the boy a small nod of approval, Sev said, "Good, then you show more sense than that toidi, Grady."

"Toady?" Evan repeated.

"No, toidi. It means a very, stupid person. Though in Grady's case, toady would do as well. He does rather look like one." Sev reached out to take the small silver flask one of the men had unearthed from his pack. Handing it to Evan, she said, "Take a drink."

Evan stared at the flask suspiciously, until Sev laughed softly. "Surely, you don't think I would stoop to poison, do you?"

Evan shook his head, grasped the flask and took a big swallow. Sev watched as the boy's eyes widened as the liquor first burned its way down his throat, then as he relaxed when it spread its warmth through his stomach. Waiting to let the liquor do its work, she let her hands slow in the task of making clothes to bind the splint. Then she turned the knife to smoothing the pieces of kindling Horus handed her, to assure the splint would not rub the leg, once applied.

"Neal's not going to like it when he finds out."

"Oh?" Sev said looking up from the makeshift splint. "Like what?"

"Me drinking. He said he'd thrash me if he caught me before I was grown up." Evan took another careful sip. "He can do that you know, cause he's my brother."

Sev's lips twitched. "I see."

With a slight drowsy slur in his voice, Evan went on, "Said he'd thrash the man that gave it to me too." Evan paused and studied Sevilodorf carefully. "But you aren't a man, so I don't rightly know what he'll do."

Sev's eyes sparkled in the torchlight as Evan took a third sip from the flask. "That's all right, Evan. I think I can work it out with Neal that neither one of us gets thrashed."

The splints and strips of cloth at last to her satisfaction, Sev was pleased to see the boy's jaw abruptly stretch in an enormous yawn. Nothing would banish the pain she must inflict, but hopefully the liquor would blunt it.

Turning to Horus as her assistant, Sev said, "We need someone to hold him down and then you are going to slowly straighten the leg while I make sure the bones line up."

The man's brown face visibly paled, but he nodded jerkily. Glancing up, he motioned another man forward as Sev turned back to remove the flask from Evan's limp fingers.

"Evan, I will not lie and say this isn't going to hurt. It will. So you have two choices, you can either go ahead and holler or bite down on something and stifle it. Which do you want?"

Evan nodded owlishly. "Don't want to holler."

"Then put this in your mouth and bite down on it." Sev quickly rolled one of the strips of cloth and gave it to the boy. After he bit down on it, Sev motioned to the two men to move into place. "On the count of three."

Evan moaned a tightly-strained note and bit down as his leg was slowly twisted back into position. A faint grinding sound and a small snap signaled the bone slipping back into place, and both men sharply turned their faces away. Using the narrow splints handed her, Sev wrapped the leg securely in place. Then with a small smile she handed the silver flask to her helpers and watched as the man who had held Evan down took a fervent gulp before passing it on to Horus.

When the flask was held out to her, she shook her head slowly. "Not a good idea with a head injury. Gets hard to tell whether the double vision is from the liquor or from the cracked skull."

The second man looked a trifle embarrassed, then covered it by replacing the cap on the flask. "That was Grady, and as you said, he's a toady."

Sev did not bother to correct the man's pronunciation; she just raised her eyebrows and stood. Meeting Horus' opaque gaze, she gestured towards his forehead and said, "That should be taken care of."

He lifted his fingers to lightly touch the gash partially hidden by dust-grayed black hair, then gave her a brief, wry smile. "As you wish, madam."

The dark man sat immobile as a statue as Sev cleaned the cut with a cloth dampened from a water-skin her other helper found, his eyes fixed on some point far beyond broken stone and dim torchlight. Horus smelled somehow of junipers or cedar, an odd thought to distract Sev from the grim business of swabbing grit from living flesh. Once that was done, she cut remnants of the cloth she had used for the splints to form a rough bandage. Only when she let her hands drop in completion did Horus move, turning his head so that his black eyes met hers in a disconcertingly direct stare.

Then he smiled and said quietly, "Thank you, madam."

With a nod Sev pushed herself back to her feet, and then asked, "Anyone else?"

She shrugged as the man with the injured arm refused to meet her eyes. "Someone make him a sling," Pressing a hand to her suddenly aching head, Sev remarked sarcastically, "I'll try to control myself and cast only spells for your recovery."

With a nervous laugh and an anxious look toward the entrance where Landis and the other men had begun shifting the debris, Sev's second helper said, "Reckon at this point, a spell or two might be welcome."

Sev nodded and held out the knife she had been using. "Here, you'll want this back. Just to be on the safe side."

Accepting the blade, the man once again looked embarrassed. With uncertainty, he watched as the woman knelt down and said a few words to Evan, then rose and made her way carefully back to settle once again beside the still bound orc.

xxxxxx

On silent bare feet Russ led his small crew of men and elves through the woods in front of the collapsed cave. Here and there he would point out a suitable log or a portion of one that they could use. Some cutting and trimming of them would be required, but not enough to provide more than a small hindrance. Still, any hindrance, however small, could barely be afforded.

"Master?" Aerio's voice spoke suddenly at Celebsul's shoulder, and he turned to look into the worried face of his apprentice. The younger elf continued earnestly, "If there is an ax to be had, it would be a simple thing to cut notches in the logs so as to create frames of a sort. This would expedite putting the shoring into place, if the pieces were pre-cut and ready to be installed whilst digging. We need only measure an approximate width required for us to crawl through and if need be, retrieve wounded."

Gambesul stood nodding at his friend's shoulder, and Celebsul found a slight smile. As ever, the younger elves' clever minds were racing ahead.

"That is an excellent idea. I'll ask if these men have an ax."

"Master?"

Celebsul paused. Aerio looked down, and then met his mentor's gaze again with an expression turned suddenly fierce.

"I must bear the blame for leaving Mistress Sevi undefended, but in the interests of amending my fault, I will guarantee that her tormenters do not shirk their part in securing her rescue."

"We all labor to the same end," Celebsul said quietly. "Come, we've work to do."

Ropes from Darien's horse-packs were put to use, as one by one the logs were dragged back into the clearing. An ax was found amongst the pack gear where the horses were tied, and soon its rhythmic chunk startled the snowy night.

Once satisfied that the materials for bracing and shoring their digging were being gathered to his specifications, Russ led Celebsul a short way from the others and spoke to him in a low voice.

"Um, Cel," Russ began, not sure how to broach the subject. "You may not have noticed it but I am, well, unclothed."

Celebsul chuckled. It was an odd sound under the circumstances, but not an unpleasant one.

"I noticed Russ," he said. "Believe me, I think we all noticed."

Cel couldn't tell if Russ was blushing or if it was the effect of the cold.

"Yes, well, the thing is," Russ said, "if I can't find a suitable cloak or maybe some blankets or something, I may have to 'put the fur on' again, if you take my meaning. And I'm afraid that I'm not quite so even tempered when I'm like that, with the fur, I mean."

Cel took the point immediately. He himself would not be bothered, well, not much. Nor did he think that any of their own group would have any serious problem. But Darien and his men, that was another matter entirely. And as for Russ, that remained to be seen.

"Can you manage yourself if you do?" Cel asked.

Russ shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I just don't know. For a time perhaps, but…"

Cel understood. Under the circumstances it was hard enough for any of them to keep their tempers in check. What it would be like for Russ if he were to change would be anyone's guess, including, apparently, Russ's as well.

"Just do the best you can." Cel said sympathetically, "If you have to change, then you have to. Maybe we can get enough dry wood together to light a fire."

"Anything would help," Russ said, and Celebsul could see him beginning to shiver. One way or another, something would have to be done. The two of them returned to the work at hand, both of them aware that Russ was getting colder by the minute.

xxxxxx

The rattle of stones sliding and the sharp exclamations of the men signaled another failed attempt to force a passageway out of the cave.

"I told you not to touch that one," shouted one grime-encrusted figure. "Now, you've brought an entirely new section down."

"This is hopeless. Every time we clear a way, the blasted tunnel collapses."

"It's that witch, I tell you. Nothing's gone right since we met her."

Sev snorted from her place beside Nik as she recognized that snarling voice. A one-note song was Grady.

"Leave off, Grady," Landis' voice was tinged with frustration. He ran a hand along his ribs. They still hurt from his earlier encounter with the small orc and dragging boulders and tree limbs about was not doing them any good. "Take a break, men. They'll be working on it from the outside as well."

Horus' dark eyes reflected the torchlight as he asked quietly, "And just what will we find if we do get out of here?"

Weary feet grated in pulverized stone as the men slouched away from the rubble pile and dropped to sitting in the circle of torchlight. Fantastic shadows wavered against the walls, almost making the blockage before them seem to move. None wanted to think just how deep it might be, or how far they might have to dig to find freedom from this place. Already the smoke from their torches made the air hazy and bitter in the throat.

"You think they really were Rangers and such? King's men? What would King's men be doing protecting the likes of them?" one man speculated.

"And you heard them, kidnapping. Orc killing's one thing, but I ain't wanting to hang for no kidnapping," another added.

"No one is going to hang." Landis stated firmly. "Concentrate on getting out of here. When we do, IF we do, we face either our friends or the enemy, or whatever else it is waits outside. If you fear the reception, make sure that no harm comes to our ... guests ... either of them." Landis swallowed his distaste of his own words. The lady, he would preserve at all costs, the uruk had now become a bargaining chip. If 'they' valued it so highly he would do his best to keep it intact.

Voices murmured as men discussed his words. Landis tried to ignore them. The first order of business was getting out of this confounded hole. Picking his way among the scattered rocks, he came to stand before the woman, Sevilodorf, and the orc she appeared to prefer over company with his men.

The orc's head was now bandaged neatly.

"You are a natural healer, I see," Landis observed. "Ally or enemy, you treat the same."

Sevilodorf stared coldly up at the man, "There are no enemies here, just fools and victims."

Crouching before her, Landis said softly, "You think me a fool? Ask me what happened to my son and then call me a fool."

"Ask me what happened to mine!" Sev's blue eyes glittered like ice in the dim light.

Landis turned his head to look at the uruk. He stared for a moment or two, the tangle of his thoughts darkly shadowed in his eyes, then looked back at the woman. "The same, he died at the hands of one such as this. Yet you would preserve its life."

The man was struggling to understand, but Sev could see he was trying.

"Yes. This one and the few others I know. I am no spellbound fool, despite what Grady may think. I know there are still many of his kin wandering the world who never gave up their evil ways. And never will. They deserve death. And I would ride with you to hunt them down. I have done so before and will undoubtedly do so again. But the ones you hunt now are not the same."

After a deep sigh, that caused him to clutch his ribs once again, Landis said, "And how are you so certain?"

"Landis, you saw it yourself. Gubbitch offered his own life in exchange for mine." Sev gestured to Nik. "Your own captain used me as a weapon against Nik. How would such be possible, if they were simply the killing machines you think they are? Most still are, and I would not dispute that. Nor would they. But these and some few others have managed to emerge from the thrall of the Dark Lord with a desire to be different. To be better. Should they not be given the chance?"

When Landis did not reply, Sev touched his arm lightly. "Think on it. It took some time before those of us at the Troll learned to accept them."

"It would be long indeed before I could," Landis responded slowly. "I do not have your forgiveness, lady."

Sevilodorf shook her head. "Forgiveness is NOT one of my virtues. But I am a decent enough healer and I can tell a case of cracked ribs when they are staring me in the face. You need to let the others do the lifting. Or you risk doing more damage."

Rubbing his ribs once again, Landis gave a rueful look at the undersized orc. "I'll give him this. He's a fighter."

Nik met Landis' eyes with an unblinking stare. It was the first time any of these men had graced the uruk with 'him' instead of 'it'.

"You should put out some of the torches," he ventured.

"Why?" Landis at least heard and replied, though his expression was cold.

"Fire breathes the air, and much quicker than men. There'll be none left, if all the torches carry on burning."

This struck a chord in Landis' memory. He had heard something similar once, probably a very long time ago. The advice may come from an enemy, but it was good advice. No sense in suffocating to make a point. Rising to his feet, Landis signaled to Horus, telling him to put out all but their single lantern. They would need some light to work by.

Grady stood a distance away in the shadows, his hands twitching. He had listened to the conversation with disgust, but then that filth had mentioned the air. He was not a man given to imaginings, though this living burial had found a level of fear in him that he had never known. Now new tendrils of red-hot terror burrowed into his brain, and he started to sweat. The claustrophobic darkness deepened as the torches one by one went out. The cave shrank; it was too small, too crowded. His hand went to his throat. He pictured himself crawling on the ground gasping for breath. He inhaled and his heart almost stopped. The air was already too thin. He could not fill his lungs.

As Landis walked back to the working crew, he spotted Grady, and noticed that the bald man stood motionless in near-darkness. That was unusual. The hothead was apparently thinking - not a good sign. Landis cast an eye around for his sword belt. He found it and went to buckle it back on, a nuisance, but better to be prepared; Grady was unpredictable at the best of times.

Nik smelt the fetid rising panic of the ragged-eared man, the sweat of hysteria oozing from his pores. Something was about to happen. He knew it. No one was near now except Sevilodorf, and the light was murky. The uruk tested his bonds. They were weakened by his incessant twisting and working of them. Despite all the evidence, these men had underestimated his strength. He broke the ropes silently, easily.

Grady meanwhile gasped for breath, but he felt his ribs constricted even tighter. 'They are breathing MY air,' he thought, his unmanageable fear mutating instantly into blind rage as he glared at the woman and the orc. He bent down, and with a sweat-drenched, shaking hand retrieved his sword from where it lay.

"You will breathe no more of my air!" he bellowed and sprang forward.

Nik and Sev sprang to their feet, Sev baring the thin blade of her remaining knife - but Landis leaped to place himself between Grady and the captives, his own sword on guard.

"Grady, NO!"

Grady came to a rigid halt and sneered at Landis, "Idiot, these worthless scum are taking up the air our men need to survive. I'm going to put an end to that."

"Idiot?" Landis spat back. "There is only one idiot here. There's enough air to last us all until we get out. Then what? Hand over two corpses to the King's Rangers and say 'sorry'? We would not be here if you had used your head!"

"I did what I had to!" Grady roared.

"You struck that woman senseless and brought all this down on us!"

"The witch drew a knife on me!"

"And you drew a sword on her. We are kidnappers because of you, fool!"

"She was going to lead us to the orcs - and to their accursed gems!"

"Good lord, Grady, since when have we resorted to forcing women to act as our hunting guides? Never have we stooped so low - until you brought it upon us."

"I brought nothing. She's a witch! She's bewitched you - she'll bewitch us all!" Spittle flew from the bald man's mouth.

"Stand down, Grady. If anyone is taking up air around here, it's you." Landis spoke in the firm, compelling voice he had employed for years as Darien's second-in-command. The voice that simply expected obedience and received it. For a moment Grady paused.

Everyone stood listening, Sev standing with her knife in her hand, Nik tense as a drawn bow beside her. None of the men who remained in the cave had any love for Grady, and most of them mistrusted and disliked his unstable temper. Furthermore, Landis was making sense. Grady was not.

But Grady's fear robbed him of sensible thought. The man he till now had looked to for orders, who he had fought alongside, now stood ready to fight him to protect those things. He could see them breathing, their chests rising and falling, his own death drawing nearer with every inhalation.

Teeth clenched, Grady firmed his stance and stared past the trembling tip of his blade. "They are going to die, Landis, this minute, and if you stand in my way, you will die too. MOVE!"

Grady stepped forward but Landis held firm. "Back off, Grady."

The bald man suddenly lunged at Landis, men shouted warning, but Landis parried the attacking sword and returned a thrust that Grady only barely turned aside, steel screeching on steel. With a roar Grady pressed the attack. Landis had the greater skill, but was weakened by his broken ribs, each twist and lunge driving bolts of pain that shocked the wind from him. Ironic it was, that Grady obsessed about wasted air when it was Landis who suddenly lacked breath. As the sound of steel clashing and scraping battered the walls of the cavern, the other men exchanged grim glances and reached for their own weapons. If Grady harmed Landis, he would have the rest of them to account to.

In agony from the repeated wrenching of his ribs, Landis attempted a feint to off-foot Grady. Instead his own footing slipped and Grady grinned as he thrust through Landis' guard and sank his sword into the older man's belly.

Sevilodorf cried out, a sound which echoed from the mouths of several men. But a further shock followed. Grady stared mercilessly into the wounded man's eyes, then he savagely twisted the sword and yanked it free; Landis crumpled and soundlessly fell.

Horrified by the murder of one of the best men he had ever known, Horus swept his own sword from its scabbard - he would avenge Landis by the laws of his own distant land. But, as Grady turned his insane leer towards the captives, a small figure hurtled out of the shadows and threw itself at the murderer. Grady felt a massive blow to his chest and tumbled backwards, landing splayed on the ground.

Nik was not going to let this man live. While ever he did, Sevilodorf was in danger. They all were. The man had lost his mind. Nik had seen it happen before with orcs and nothing and no one could reason with them again.

Despite having the wind knocked from him, the bald man snarled his defiance as he struggled to roll to his knees, hand clutching his sword as he sought his attacker.

Grady growled even as the small creature crouched facing him with a baleful glare. This insect could not best him. He would take off its head.

In the next instant Nik leapt and Grady was smote to the floor by the unbelievable strength of the little uruk-hai. Straddling the man Nik grabbed the threatening arm in his steel grip, and wrenched free Grady's sword which he threw away with a ringing clatter. With a strangled howl the man's body bucked and thrashed frantically, and his flailing fists beat at the uruk. Yet Nik heeded them not and struck the hated face with all his strength.

The blow knocked a degree of sanity back into Grady, as he realized his brute strength was not prevailing. "Get it off me - getitoffame!" he howled, ere another blow sledged the words from his mouth. Why couldn't he punch the thing off him? Damn the air. Damn the landslide. Why didn't someone help? "Get this thing off me!"

Two men took hesitant steps forward, the shock of murder warring with bonds of comradeship as Nik struck Grady again. But to their confusion Horus turned to face them, cold-eyed, and behind him steel glinted in Sev's hand.

"Leave it!"

Landis' unexpected voice halted the men in their tracks, as the wounded man raised himself to an elbow. Hope blossomed in those standing by - Landis lived! And a swift, dark glance from Horus determined that no one would intervene in the ironic justice they were witnessing.

The uruk's next massive blow snapped Grady's head sharply to one side ... and the man went limp. Breathing heavily in the sudden silence, Nik leaned over the bald man's face, peering intently with gleaming eyes. Grady did not move. He would never again.

"He chose his own battle," Landis said.

He watched grimly as Nik stood up from the body and backed away to sit once more against the wall. Catching the uruk's eye, Landis saw a smoldering sort of calm staring back at him, but none of the blind hatred that had driven Grady over the brink. As their gazes briefly held, Landis nodded. Both thanks and approval were in the gesture. And something more.

Sev realized she was shaking as she made her way to Landis' side. He looked up at her and attempted a smile. "I'm not dead yet Healer, but I'm a bit the worse for wear." Landis lay back with a tight sigh as Sev knelt; he submitted meekly when she batted his hand out of the way of the oozing wound.

"A misstep," he sighed, and a rueful grin twisted his graying beard. "Always thought it would be an orc that did for me, though. Never would have thought ..."

"Be still," Sev ordered curtly, as she worked his shirttails loose to bare pallid skin.

It took so little to kill a man, a stab wound one could measure with a single finger that wept slow, dark blood ... but the worse damage was on the inside, where her skills could not reach. She felt the other men looming over her shoulders, one of them holding the lantern closer for better light. Nor did they speak, for they were men who knew battle and wounds, and who now saw the truth as well as she did. Their brief hope died.

"Say," Landis said, turning his head on the hard stone to look at those around him. "A little nip of that who-hit-Tom would go well about now."

The man with the flask Evan had sampled earlier knelt instantly, and he awkwardly lifted Landis' shoulders to drink. Sev sat silent with her hands knotted in her lap as Landis took a stiff pull, and then his eyes met hers and she saw that he knew.

"You bear no fault or blame, madam," he said quietly. "Whatever craft you possess, you do not carry my fate in your hands."

She looked away then, up at the somber faces shadowed in dancing lantern light. "Let's make him a comfortable place to rest."

Until he died ... The words hung unspoken as men moved to find bedding or soft clothes among what gear was not buried. He had a little time left; Landis would not leave here a living man.

xxxxxx

From his makeshift bed, Landis spoke to his remaining men. "Horus, you take command."

The dark man shook his head, his eyes meeting Landis' in mute appeal. He didn't want command. He wanted only the chance to fight alongside good men, to be led by good leaders. He did not want to stand out, to be noticed.

Landis struggled against the pain swelling inside him. "You have to. We need your wits. These men trust and respect you. Direct them at least till ... we get out."

The other men nodded their heads and murmured agreement, but Horus still hesitated.

Continuing, Landis said, "Darien may yet be alive out there. And you need to make sure that Sevilodorf and the uruk remain safe. All of you - keep that in mind. It is vital. Horus, will you give me peace of mind to rest with?"

The black, unfathomable eyes of the quiet man looked at his dying comrade. He had no choice, for honor left him but one course.

"Yes, Landis, I will give you that. Rest."

Horus turned, swallowing the bitter taste that yet another grief left in his mouth. Lifting his chin as he faced his companions, he took command in his soft, strange accent. "We leave Evan, the Healer and the uruk here with Landis. The rest of us must keep digging."

"I know about mining and I'm strong." Heads turned as the uruk spoke from the shadows. "I can help you dig a safe way out."

Astonishment forbade immediate answer, as men stared at the creature that had just killed one of their own. However, though none of his current comrades realized, Horus had worked alongside orcs before. And what the uruk said made sense. He directed his reply to the men.

"There are fewer hands now, and we keep digging holes that collapse. If the uruk can help, let him do so."

"How do we know he won't turn on us?" The man who owned the liquor flask glanced uneasily at Grady's silent form.

"Do not give him cause," Horus replied quietly. "Blood answers blood. Remember who struck in madness and who in justice."

After draping a blanket over Grady's body, the handful of men returned to their labor. While some murmured brief resentment at having the small orc offering advice about how to dig, they did so primarily from long habit. All of them, to one degree or another, accepted that Grady had met a rightful end. Though some had regarded the man as a friend, his final action had been unforgivable. They were also relieved to have something to do other than watch the life drain from Landis. Not one of them sought for further trouble. There had been more than enough of that.

Before he rejoined the men, Horus glanced back at his fallen commander then at the Healer.

Sevilodorf read the unspoken question in the dark man's eyes but could offer no answer. She had done all that could be done for Landis, and Horus knew it.

xxx

TBC ...