The Rescue

Amala comes up with a daring plan to rescue Prince Edwarren and his men.

6.

The Rescue

 

A few minutes later she was ready.   She waited until the four Orcs around the fire had come to the front door of the guardhouse to see what the yelling was all about inside.   She opened the first lead locket and took out the silence stone then slipped it into a fold in her cloak and waited.

 

A few minutes later the four Orcs returned to the campfire and she simply walked forward.   The effect to them was that of having a normal conversation when suddenly they all ‘went deaf’, and as they were looking at each other in surprise, she charged in with swords drawn.  

 

They shouted out warnings, but the radius of effect of the silence stone kept their warnings from forming.   She moved in quickly, killing two of them before they even thought to draw a weapon.   The third one poked and swiped at her with his spear, but she simply dodged it and cut him down quickly.  

 

The fourth Orc tried to run toward the Orcs working to set up the fabricated imperial ambush on the road, but he only took a few steps before he too was cut down in utter silence.

Amala didn’t waste any time and with one of the Orc’s cloaks wrapped around her hands, she pulled a firebrand out of the campfire and tossed it over the parapet of the roof, knowing there was probably a pair of Orcs posted on top.  

 

She rushed to the rear of the guard house and caught the decorative edge of the wall, then gracefully pulled herself up until she could reach the lower edge of the parapet.   A moment later she was on the roof in total silence while a pair of Orc guards had their backs to her, examining the burning piece of wood she’d thrown onto the roof.

 

As soon as her feet contacted the stone floor of the upper story the silence effect of the stone covered the roof.   They looked up when they too experienced sudden deafness and did not see her coming up behind them until the very last moment and by then it was too late for them.

 

Now it was time for the second stage of her plan.   She picked up the smoldering piece of wood and hurried over to the wooden trapdoor that led down from the roof into the guardhouse.   They had it slightly ajar, held open with a piece of wood so they could hear what was going on from below.  Through this opening, Amala peered.  

 

The silence stone kept her from hearing what was being said below, though the roof blocked the effects of the magic stone from reaching those in the room.   But it was the location of all those in the room that she was most concerned with at that moment.  

 

There were probably 30 to 40 Orcs packed in the guardhouse, most of them drinking the station’s supply of beer.   In the very middle of the room, away from the windows, but only a few feet from the bottom of the stairway leading to the roof, were Prince Edwarren and three of his cavaliers, all bound hand and foot and sitting on the floor.  

 

Directly in front of them, the nobleman ‘Bristane’ was shouting at the Prince who sat defiantly glaring back at his captor.    All other inhabitants of the room were Orcs, standing, sitting or leaning, all heavily armed, watching the whole affair. 

 

Amala took a deep, nervous breath, and, standing on the top stair, threw the smoldering branch down the stairwell, while she popped open the lead locket that held the darkness enchanted stone.   This she immediately threw down the stairs and a moment later, tossed the silence stone after it.

 

***

 

The Orcs lingering in the guardhouse that they had seized only a few hours before, were secure in their safety.   They had sentries on the roof of the guardhouse that would be able to see any movement coming up from Southgate.  

 

There was the heavy gate blocking the valley from any northern attack and other sentries monitored the southern entrance since being taken by surprise by the coach earlier.   Plus, there were nearly a hundred of them scattered throughout the pass, so they were confident in their safety.  

It all occurred so suddenly that none of them knew quite what happened.   Bristane was yelling at the defiant half-Elf Prince when suddenly something came crashing down the stairs, but as they turned to see; all at once the room went totally dark.  

They all jumped to their feet, shouting in the darkness, as they began to smell smoke.   Then abruptly all sound stopped in the room and they were each trapped in a dark burning building unable to hear or see.   Panic rushed over the Orcs and immediately their thoughts focused on escape.  

 

It was for each of them like some horrid nightmare, each moving frantically toward where they hoped the door to the building should be; pushing, kicking, stumbling and falling over each other in the pitch black silence, while their sensitive animal-like noses filled with the definite harsh smell of smoke.

 

None of this Amala saw or heard, but she felt their panicked stampede, and when the vibrations seemed to only come from the front of the building, she carefully crept down the steps.   She had tried to estimate where the darkness stone would land before she threw it, but, not surprisingly, it had been kicked when the Orcs began desperately making for the door.  

 

The room was full of smoke from the burning wood, but it was still breathable and she groped around in the darkness, carefully feeling along the wall toward where she had marked that the Prince and his horsemen should be.

 

It felt like she had searched for hours, but only a minute had passed when she found a bound man franticly trying to free himself in the utter darkness.   Her hand on his leg startled the man even more, but she slid her hand down until she encountered the rope binding him.  

Pulling one of her daggers free from her boot scabbard, she managed to slice through the ropes as the man squirmed and wiggled.

 

Her action was rewarded with a knee in her forehead, nearly knocking her down.   She felt the man wiggle up to his knees as he tried to stand.   Taking a chance, she put her hand on his sweaty forehead and patted him reassuringly as her other hand slid down his arm to where his hands were bound.   She touched his hand, patting it, and then slit the ropes binding his wrists.  

 

 

He began moving at once, though she did not know what direction he would take, so she slid backwards, finding the edge of the wall.  To her delight, her heel pressed down on something that felt like a large rock.   Kneeling in the dark, she picked up the stone and its shape and texture confirmed that she had found one of the two enchanted stones.   Groping for one of the lead lockets, she slid the stone into it and closed it.

 

It was like a flash of lightning; suddenly everything became visible in the room.   She was against the far wall, in the middle of the room, directly across from the rooftop stairs.  

 

At her feet were three men still bound, and near the door laid an Orc that had either been trampled to death or knocked unconscious in the stampede.   Twirling around was the man she had freed in the dark and she felt mixed feelings when she found it to be none other than Prince Edwarren.

 

Upon seeing her, he jumped backward with a shout.   Not that any sound escaped from his mouth, for somewhere in the mess of the room, her silence stone was still activated.  

 

Rather than try to get the arrogant prince to understand, she just ignored him and quickly knelt and slit the ropes binding one of the cavaliers.   Thankfully, the prince was sharp enough to grasp the situation quickly, and grabbing a dropped Orc sword, freed another one of his cavaliers, while she cut the bonds of the remaining prisoner.  

 

The prince gave her a nearly comical ‘what’s going on?’ look as soon as he’d cut his soldier free.   She shook her head and pointed at the door then drew both of her swords.

 

One of the prince’s cavaliers held out his hand, pointing at her sword and mouthing the words, ‘Give me a sword’.   Still watching the door for activity, she shook her head and gestured at an Orc weapon on the floor near him.  

 

But the man seemed determined to have one of her broadswords and grabbed her arm, impatient at the foolish girl who wouldn’t let the professional use the weapon that he felt he had mastered.  

 

It was at that moment that the door swung open and the Orcs cautiously advanced, their bravery increasing when they found the darkness was gone.   Amala yanked her arm free from the arrogant cavalier and rushed the handful of Orcs that had reentered the room.   With the silence stone’s magic still in effect, the whole room was free of the chaotic sounds of battle, and Amala found she could focus entirely on the attacking Orcs.

 

It was as her father had claimed; close combat was somewhat like a dance.   By closely watching them she could predict with great accuracy the type of attack they would try.  There were subtle hints; muscles tensing a moment before movement, a shift of weight on their feet, a glance betraying where they would maneuver.   All these clues she had been taught to watch for, and these skills she had honed through years of practice. 

 

Now when she was tested, her training held true.  Without the distractions of sound, she found herself calm in the face of the Orc assault.

One Orc moved upon her with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, but waited for another Orc to position himself at her flank.   Instead of moving against the Orc in front of her, she shot out suddenly to the flanking Orc bringing one sword low and the other one slicing straight down.  

 

He jumped backwards, her downward slash glancing off his mail as he prepared for her next move, but she abruptly spun around to the first Orc, who parried with his sword, yet missed her lower parallel attack, which cut deeply into his leg.   He brought his shield across to block a perceived slash by her, but she spun to his left side and slashed at his other leg, sending him down onto the floor.

 

The flanking Orc swiped at her with a battle axe, but he was not brave enough to get too close to her, so he missed.    Her sword shot out and found the gap between his chain mail tunic and shoulder armor and he dropped his sword and fell back, seriously injured.

 

Two Orcs thrust pole-arms at her, hoping to drive her back.  Instead she simply turned and slid in between the two long weapons and they were not able to bring them around in the narrow confines of the room before she had nearly taken both of their heads off with one deadly swing of her swords.

The Orc behind them had a wicked looking morning star and seemed determined to push her back so the other Orcs could get themselves out of the bottleneck of the doorway.  He held his shield across his body, ducked his head down so only the top of his metal helm shown, and with his morning star held in front of him, he threw himself forward.  

 

She saw immediately that his shield would block any lower access to him and his stance kept his head unexposed.   So she fell flat to the floor, and covering her head, she rolled under him.   His legionnaire boots kicked her as he stumbled over her, but her chainmail shirt absorbed the impact.  

 

She stabbed at his gut and immediately leapt to her feet in time to catch the next two Orcs advancing.   Both swung great swords at her, from different sides at the same time. It was a very smart maneuver, for she had no choice but to parry with both of her swords, and the defensive move brought her down slightly in front of them.  

 

They brought their swords overhead to strike her down to the floor, but instead of protecting her head from the blows as they expected, she rammed both swords forward, hoping to pierce their chainmail tunics with the sharpness of her blades.   The enchanted swords cut through the crude Orc chainmail and one fell forward, dead, while the other one retreated backwards, clutching at a deep wound to his mid section.

 

As she battled the Orcs, behind her in the middle of the room, the freed cavaliers and their commander stood transfixed in amazement at the scene before them.  

 

Edwarren had seen Drow women before - he had even battled several from the Underdark during his years as a commander of the Imperial legions.   But never had he seen such a sight as this.   She was only a young woman, though typically tall and irresistibly shapely, her form even stirring him, and he passionately hated the race.  

 

She wore her hair short unlike most of the Drow females, and seemed to have no desire to adorn herself to attract males, but this very thing just made her more beautiful in some insane way.  

Of course she had the black skin of the race and the glowing red eyes that were hypnotizing and lovely. 

She shared the extreme good looks of her mother’s brood, yet most of her form was concealed by her extremely practical garb.  

 

The girl wore the thigh high heavy leather boots favored by rangers and swordsmen the world over, and heavy cloth riding pants beneath them.   Her torso was covered with a shirt of fine shiny Elven chainmail that her buxom form somehow made look extremely feminine.  The mail was probably a gift to her from his mother the Queen, who held the family so pathetically precious to her heart.   Aside from metal bracers on her arms, she wore no other form of armor, but didn’t seem to really need it.

 

Her movements were gracefully fluid and very much like some sort of martial dance as she amazingly managed to hold her position against the Orcs.   Her swords were blurs as they both seemed to never miss a hit or parry.   At her feet was a growing pile of bodies and she fought fiercely and passionately.   Never had he ever seen a finer swordsman.  

 

This was the very reason he was going to let her draw the Orcs’ attention and allow him and his men to escape.    If she died in defense of the soon-to-be King of Northmarch and next Emperor of the great Southern Empire, then what greater glory could she ever hope to gain?  

 

It would be one less dark Elf to flush out of the western part of his kingdom.   One less messy task about which he would not have to worry.  He gestured to his men to follow him up the stairs to the roof while the Orcs were focused completely on the girl.   He hoped they would be able to slip over the side, find some horses and escape. 

 

A pity, he thought as he watched an Orc with a whip manage to wrap the tip of his weapon around both of her legs and then jerk her off of her feet; such a lovely and skilled woman.    Too bad she had to be a Drow. 

Prince Edwarren paused for only an instant, fascinated to see how valiantly she died, but decided escape was more important, so he hurried up the stairs.

 

Reviews

[Elina]

"...only the top of his metal helm shown..." I believe "shown" should be "showed." Shown could work, too, it just sounds a bit odd to me in this spot.

[Eddie Davis]

Thank you Elina, for 'showing' me the error of my ways. ;) Seriously though, I do appreciate all the comments you make. They greatly help me to improve my writing.

[Elina]

Haha! Oh...you're so "punny." And I am glad to help.