Don't Feed the Trolls Page 7

  And then they were moving, leaving the duke, still alive, behind them.

  ***

  They ran into a couple of guards on their way to find their companion, guards who, perhaps unsurprisingly, appeared likely to have some questions about why three prisoners were wondering around free instead of rotting in their cells like good little potential-torture victims. Not that the guards had much of a chance to ask any questions they might have had, for Fedder—and Dannen, for while his anger had not pulled him all the way over, he still felt a very natural fury at what was no doubt being done to his companion—pre-empted those questions by the expedient of knocking the guards thoroughly unconscious.

  It only took a few minutes—after all, a town like Palden had no need for an extensive dungeon network, even if its duke was a complete ass—to reach the door which, according to the duke, led to where Tesler was being “questioned.” Yet, by the time they arrived, Dannen was even more impatient to help his companion and—owing to that same impatience which he and Fedder had vented on the guards they’d met in no uncertain terms—considerably more blood-stained.

  He didn’t take the time to devise some sort of plan or strategy for when they entered the room, took no time at all, in fact, except for that necessary to get a running go and shoulder charge the door with all the momentum he could muster in the relatively confined space. So wrapped up in his anger and his worry that he did not remember—until the moment his shoulder impacted the door and his course was irrevocably set—what had happened to him not so long ago when barging through a brothel door under depressingly-similar life-threatening circumstances.

  The door, this time, was locked but, luckily, in ill-repair—the duke, judging by the relative wealth of the town and the amount of expensive jewelry bedecking his person likely having appropriated the necessary funds to purchase another ring or necklace—and gave way before his shoulder did.

  Less luckily, perhaps, was how easily it gave way, meaning that the door—and Dannen along with it—was launched forward and sent sliding across the ground. A regretful outcome, then, until Dannen heard a familiar whistle and saw what could only be the flitting shadow of a crossbow bolt flying through the space he would have occupied had he not taken the tumble.

  He followed the bolt’s path in time to see Mariana move with the incredible dexterity she had demonstrated on other occasions, flicking the bolt out of the air with one of her iron rods, a look of disdain on her face.

  Then everything happened at once.

  There were three guards in the room and, based on the fact that two had already drawn their swords—the third even now attempting to reload his crossbow—they had been alerted to him and his companions’ approach by the loud, if brief cries of the guards they’d dealt with coming here.

  Tesler sat slumped in a chair, his head down, his hair, which hung lank with sweat, covering his features, and Dannen noticed that the man had been bound to the chair with what appeared to be a length of rope. And that was just about all the time for noticing he had as the sword-wielding guard nearest him attempted to sheath the blade in his chest.

  Dannen let out a grunt, rolling out of the way as the steel pierced the door where he’d been lying only a moment ago, splintering wood. Might have been the time, then, to try to extricate himself from the situation he was in, to regroup with his companions and take the men on in a unified front. Certainly, it would have been the smart thing, the logical thing. But he was angry, angry at the sight of Tesler sitting limp in the chair, splatters of what could only be the man’s blood dotting the ground beneath him. Dannen knew, of course, that decisions made in anger were rarely wise ones, but just then, he didn’t care.

  He rolled his way to his feet and, with a growl, launched himself at the swordsman. The man clearly hadn’t expected this—what sort of fool charges, unarmed, at a man with a sword?—and he hadn’t yet gotten his blade fully free of the door when Dannen was on him, bearing him to the ground. He brought his fists down on the man’s face in short, vicious blows. He lost count after the sixth such blow, was unaware of nothing except the man beneath him and his own anger.

  At least, that was, until something struck him, and he glanced down to see a crossbow bolt embedded in the meat of his upper arm. He looked up from the man beneath him—unconscious or dead, it was hard to tell, and he didn’t much care in any case—to the crossbowman only a short distance away, reloading his weapon even as Dannen watched.

  He started to rise to go after the man, but Fedder beat him to it, appearing behind the guard, looming over him, his eyes dancing with fury like some vengeful god. The crossbowman must have felt his presence—not much easier to ignore than a mountain, that one—for he let out a squeak and started to turn. But the mage lifted him in both hands, and with a growl sent him hurtling across the room to crash into one of the walls with a bone-shattering impact.

  The crossbowman collapsed to the ground in an unmoving heap, and a moment later, Fedder was standing over Dannen. “The lass done for the other one—” He paused, glancing between Dannen and the mashed, bloody features of the man beneath him. “You alright?”

  “Better than him,” Dannen rasped, looking away from the smashed features. “Go check on the lad.”

  But as he rose to his feet and looked to the lad in question, Dannen saw that Mariana was already doing exactly that. She was frantically cutting at the ropes wrapped around Tesler’s blood-spattered form and, based on the way one hand was cupped to her mouth, was just as frantically struggling to keep from getting sick at the sight of so much blood.

  “I-I can’t get it!” she said, her voice choked with emotion, and in another moment, Fedder was there, a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s alright, lass. Let me take care of it.”

  “W-we need a knife or—” she began, but was unable to finish before Fedder made use of his considerable strength, reaching out and grabbing hold of the rope in both hands and ripping it as easily as another might have torn a piece of twine.

  Without the rope to hold him up, the young man—unconscious or close enough as to make no real difference—pitched forward, but Fedder scooped him up as he might have a child, tossing him over one shoulder before turning back to Dannen, a grim expression of anger on his face.

  It was an anger Dannen understood all too well, seeing the man draped over the mage’s shoulder as he did. Not much of a thanks for saving a town, that much was certain, not much at all, and he was tempted to go back and tell the duke, in person, just how he felt about the welcome and gratitude they’d received.

  That was when he heard shouting from farther inside the dungeon. More soldiers. Have an undead dragon decide to visit, and they were nowhere to be found, but they were more than happy, it seemed, to needlessly attack those who had dealt with it. “Come on,” he told the others, promising himself that he would pay the duke a visit later, if he found the time and, of course, managed to survive long enough to do so. “We need to leave. Now.”

  Both the mage and the woman—who had managed to keep the contents of her stomach in place, at least for now—didn’t look happy about that, but they nodded in agreement, and a moment later Dannen was leading them back out the way they’d come.

  He continued to lead them through the dungeon right up until he realized that he had no idea of where the exit was, mostly because he had been too busy being unconscious at the time of their arrival to take note of it. “Either of you know the way out?”

  Mariana looked away from the unconscious man draped on Fedder’s shoulder for the first time, then gazed at their surroundings. “This way, I think,” she said, and started leading them down the hallway.

  The dungeons were large enough to get lost in—mostly because of the poor lighting provided by flickering torches hung along the wall—but not as large as many he’d found himself in, so he thought it strange that they heard no more shouts as they moved further in. At least, that was, until they came upon the sight of what looked like some terrible b
attle. Or, perhaps, massacre would have been closer to the truth.

  Six men in the uniform of the town guard lay in the hallway in bloody heaps. At least, Dannen thought it was six. It was hard to tell for sure as not all their body parts were in the correct places but were instead scattered about or missing altogether. What remained appeared to have huge chunks taken out as if the soldiers had been attacked by some wild beast—or perhaps, considering the devastation and that none of their swords showed any signs of being used—several of them.

  It was odd, unnerving, but what was even odder was that, as they stood staring in awe at the carnage, a small, furry form hopped up onto one of the dead men’s chests. The form was so covered in blood, its fur so matted with it, that it took Dannen a couple of seconds to realize that it was Tesler’s squirrel. As he stared at it, the creature met his eyes and proceeded to lick the blood off its paws in a dainty gesture that was, quite simply, terrifying.

  “I’m beginning to wonder about that squirrel,” Fedder said from beside him, and Dannen was forced to agree, particularly when the creature turned to look at the unconscious form the mage held and seemed to frown angrily.

  Dannen had some questions about the squirrel, that was certain, but somehow he doubted that the little creature would answer him, and his quickest way of getting any answers was currently unconscious, so he only watched, in silence, as the creature climbed up Fedder’s leg—the mage letting out a grunt of discomfort as it did so. A moment later, it was perched protectively on the back of the unconscious Tesler, gazing at them in challenge as if daring any of them to try to dislodge it.

  Which, considering not only what they were up against but, more immediately, the carnage before him, was just about the furthest thing from Dannen’s mind. “Let’s go,” he managed in a breathless voice, and then they were moving again.

  No guards waited for them at the exit to the dungeons, those who likely would have been making up the group currently lying in bloody, masticated heaps somewhere behind them, and Dannen and the others walked through the door and out of the dungeons without incident into the center of the castle courtyard. Or, at least, what had been the castle courtyard, though truth be told there was little left.

  Now, the dust which had choked the air when he and the others had been fighting the undead dragon had settled, revealing a devastation which was shocking to say the very least. The castle had been an ugly one—possibly the ugliest he’d ever seen—but now only an incredible optimist could have called it a castle at all. The tower on which the catapult had stood was gone. So, too, were the battlements which had been attached to the tower. In fact, it seemed to Dannen that hardly one stone was left stacked on another, and instead they were scattered about everywhere on the ground.

  Even as he and the others stood, blinking in sunlight which felt harsh after their time spent in the gloomy confines of the dungeons, workers and beasts of labor were busy trying to clear the rubble. So far, the products of their efforts were not apparent and, considering the devastation, Dannen supposed it would be some time before they were.

  “Where to, Butcher?” Fedder asked, not seeming to strain in the least at his unconscious burden.

  Dannen grunted. “Away sounds good to me.”

  And with that, he and the others started through the town, doing their best to look unobtrusive and, when that inevitably failed, doing their best to ignore the suspicious glances of those they passed.

  As they walked, Dannen couldn’t help but notice that, whatever else he was, the duke didn’t seem to be a liar, at least not completely. Indeed, it appeared that close to half the town had been destroyed either by the dragon’s untimely descent or its attempts at killing him and his companions.

  He expected someone to challenge them as they walked, but no one did, those they passed far too busy trying to clean up the mess the dragon’s coming had caused to spare the time necessary to do anymore than scowl at them distrustfully as they moved past. In time, they made their way through the town and Dannen caught sight of the eastern gate in the distance, was even beginning to hope that they would make it out without further incident, when there was a shout from behind them.

  “Ho there!”

  Dannen sighed, turning along with the others to see a dozen guardsmen standing a short distance away. At their front stood the man Dannen recognized as the captain of the town guard. “Shit,” he said. He glanced over at Fedder, wondering just how fast the mage could run with the burden of the unconscious man still slung across his shoulder. As he did, he saw that Mariana’s weapons had appeared in her hands as if by magic and Fedder’s free hand—the one currently not holding the unconscious Tesler in place—was clenched into a fist.

  “Stop, please!” the guard captain shouted, and Dannen frowned at that. He’d been accosted by all manner of people and beasts—more than a few guards—and in his experience, those looking to do murder were rarely so polite.

  “Relax,” Dannen told the others, “let’s hear what he has to say.”

  The guard captain held a hand up to the guards with him, none of whom had yet drawn the swords sheathed at their sides but who looked ready to do so in an instant. Then, he turned and walked toward Dannen and the others.

  “You’re escaping, then,” the man said without preamble.

  Dannen frowned, sharing a glance with Fedder and Mariana. “We had a mind to, yeah.”

  The man nodded thoughtfully, a grim expression on his face. “It isn’t right, what the duke did, not after you all saved us from that…that thing. Not right at all.”

  Dannen grunted. “You’re not going to get any argument out of me.”

  “I found him—in the cell, I mean.”

  Dannen winced, looking around, expecting the duke to pop up at any moment and begin ordering their executions. When he didn’t, Dannen turned to regard the captain once more, raising an eyebrow.

  The man grinned. “Told him I had to find the key, that it might be a bit.”

  Dannen blinked. “Why?”

  The guard captain shrugged. “As I say, I don’t care for what he did. The duke’s only in power on account of he’s related to King Ufrith in some way—a distant cousin, though to hear him tell it they’ve been best friends since childhood. Personally, I think his posting here, in out of the way Palden, says just about all that needs to be said about that.”

  “I see…” Dannen said slowly, since the truth was, he didn’t. Not at all.

  “Anyway,” the guard captain went on, “King Ufrith’s a good man, a good king, and rest assured that when he hears of what transpired here, the duke will find himself in some pretty hot water. Likely, it would have already happened but the king has been busy dealing with the undead scourge.”

  Dannen nodded. “I heard something…about that.”

  The man frowned. “A twisted, unnatural blight on the land, and this dragon just a sampling of it. Still, there is good news. We received a message nearly a week gone now that the king was gathering an army and intending to meet the undead foe on the field of battle, winning a decisive victory. Likely, by now, the battle has already taken place and our king has driven the scourge back into their graves. I suspect that, any day now, news of his victory will reach us.”

  Dannen winced. If all that Perandius had told him was true—and he did not doubt that it was, for the god seemed to be a professional when it came to recounting bad news—then the battle had indeed happened, though not with the outcome the guard captain hoped for. Still, he glanced at his wounded companion, still unconscious on Firemaker’s shoulder, and grunted. “That bastard definitely has some things to answer for.”

  The guard captain nodded. “And I assure you he will, just as soon as King Ufrith hears of it and has a moment to spare. In fact, I have already dispatched a rider to him, one carrying news of the tragedy that has happened here.”

  Dannen had heard good things about this King Ufrith and was beginning to think it was even possible that he was one of the rarest of things
the world had ever seen—a good man. But good man or not, he thought it likely that Ufrith would have his own tragedies to be worrying about just now and would have little time to concern himself with an arrogant, ungrateful duke in a backwater village on the edges of his empire, one he likely wouldn’t have remembered the name of if pressed.

  Still, he nodded. “Thank you, Captain, for all your help.”

  The man was shaking his head before he was finished. “No, thank you all. Without your intervention, I do not doubt that…that beast would have destroyed all of Palden and everyone in it. People are still shaken now, confused—but once they realize what you’ve done, once they come to understand that the duke’s insinuations that you all were somehow involved in the dragon coming in the first place are ridiculous, I suspect they’ll cheer themselves hoarse. Why, it’s likely that the next time you come through Palden, you’ll find a statue of yourselves gracing its town square.”

  Dannen opened his mouth to say that they never would be visiting Palden again, at least not if he could help it, and that the townsfolk would be better served to spend the money the statue would cost on something—nearly anything—else. But they were running out of time, he could feel the seconds ticking away as they stood there, talking. Sooner or later, someone would let the duke out, and while the guard captain might appear kind enough now, Dannen couldn’t help but note that the man had done nothing to help them escape from their unjust stay in the dungeons and suspected that, should the duke arrive, the captain would follow his orders. Reluctantly, most likely, but Dannen figured that once the thing was done, it would be pretty damned difficult to tell the difference between what had been a reluctant headsman’s axe and an eager one.

  “Well…” he offered slowly, “I…that is, thank you. Now, if it’s all the same to you, we’ll be leaving and—”

  “No.”

  Dannen felt himself tense at that. It seemed that the guard captain had only meant to tell them that he did not approve of his duke’s choices but had never intended to allow them to escape.