The biggest ogre, Kerrick realized with astonishment, was the very monster they had battled in the gateway, the giant who had tumbled into the crevasse, where they had assumed, mistakenly, he had perished. His face was scratched and bloody, and streaks of mud marred his cloak and tunic, but his voice was as strong as ever as he shouted, “They bear the golden axe, and they fought through my gate. They are intruders into Winterheim and must be brought before the king for judgment.”
He shoved them aside and knelt to grab the Axe of Gonnas, from the floor. His eyes were wide with wonder as he lifted the blade of solid gold, and for several long heartbeats it seemed as though he had forgotten everything else-the prisoners, the mob of ogre guards who seemed to be waiting for some kind of command, the throng of slaves who cowered nearby.
Kerrick noticed Tookie coming back, wiggling through the crowd until she came to a stop beside Moreen. She took the chiefwoman’s hand.
“We have to help!” Moreen insisted, but the slave girl shook her head. The chiefwoman looked to Kerrick for support, but he nodded in agreement with Tookie.
“Tookie’s right. The best thing we can do for our companions now is to try and keep from getting captured.”
Angrily she pulled her elbow from his grasp, rubbing the skin where, no doubt, he had clutched her hard enough to leave a deep bruise. She stayed rooted to her spot, watching in anguish.
“Take these prisoners to the royal dungeon,” cried the huge ogre, at last tearing his eyes free from the entrancing axe. Abruptly, he spun about, his big face contorting in concentration as he started to look over the throng of slaves that included Kerrick, Moreen, and Tookie.
“There were more humans, lots, with them,” grunted the ogre. His big hand came up, a finger as large as a sausage extending in the general direction of Moreen.
“You there!” he barked, suddenly. “Take off your hood.”
In that instant Kerrick he knew that he had to act. He gave the woman a shove, relieved as Moreen and Tookie joined the rest of the slaves in sprinting away, racing up the corridor toward Winterheim. Instead the elf lunged forward, drawing his own sword, slashing the weapon as he rushed at the hulking ogre warrior.
Another one of the brutes stepped into his path, raising a spear to block the lethal blade, but Kerrick was too quick, lancing under the parry to stab his long sword right into the ogre’s guts. With a howl the creature fell backward, tumbling into his oversized comrade, knocking several other ogres off balance.
As he fell, however, his speartip swept around and caught the corner of Kerrick’s hood, pulling the woolen shroud from the elf’s head. Spinning on one foot, the Silvanesti sprinted after the fleeing slaves, trying to sheath his sword and pull the hood back over his golden hair and pointed ear. Knowing that he had no chance to save Bruni and Barq did nothing to assuage his misery as he abandoned his two loyal companions in the grasp of a half dozen ogre warriors.
One more thing caused his heart to sink, as he dashed away. It was shouted by a guard, loud enough to echo through the hall and confirm that he had been identified.
“An elf!” came the cry. “An elf has come to Winterheim!”
19
You go in here,” said the ogre, roughly pushing Bruni through a low doorway. She ducked so that she didn’t bump her head and found herself in a large, stone-walled room where several dozen humans sat listlessly on the floor. Most, possibly all of them, were chained to the walls, though it was hard to make out many details in the near total darkness of the large cell.
She heard a burst of violence behind her and turned to see Barq One-Tooth struggling in the grip of another of their captors. The big Highlander tried to throw a punch but instead took a hard blow on his head from the hilt of a grenadier’s sword. Groaning, he staggered and was pushed unceremoniously through the door to sprawl heavily on the floor.
The large woman knelt beside him, touching his head, feeling the sticky ooze of blood. Barq groaned and sat up, rubbing the wound then pulling his hand away to look at his bloody fingers.
“You’d think I’d learn to pick my fights better,” he growled in disgust.
“It was a nice gesture,” Bruni told him, “hopeless but nice.”
“Bastards!” snarled the man, glaring at the metal door that clanged shut across the dungeon entrance.
He turned his attention to their surroundings, blinking in surprise as he saw the other men in the cell, all of whom seemed to be watching them with interest. There was a rattle of iron from one of the corners as one or two prisoners tried to stir. As she squinted into the darkness, Bruni perceived that many, perhaps all, of these men were secured in place with heavy chains.
“Where are we?” Barq One-Tooth demanded.
“The queen’s own dungeon,” muttered one fellow disgustedly. “We’re locked up here till she finds the time to kill us. Don’t worry-it shouldn’t be long now.”
“Cheery thought,” Bruni said. “I know what we did to get tossed in here, but what about the rest of you?”
“Don’t talk to her!” snapped one of the men, a swarthy fellow who was chained to the wall by both wrists. “She could be a spy-just like Thraid’s lackey, over there!”
The prisoner spat contemptuously at another of the captives, a thin, bearded man in the far corner of the room. He, too, was chained and was gazing at the two newcomers with a strange expression.
Bruni thought the man looked familiar and was trying to place him when Barq One-Tooth cried out. He crossed to the prisoner and knelt before him. “Sire! May Kradok smite those who would dare to restrain you thus!”
“Strongwind Whalebone?” Bruni exclaimed in wonder. “Is that truly you?”
Their words provoked a startled reaction among the prisoners, several of whom whispered among themselves or muttered words of disbelief. The man was thin and haggard, bedraggled enough that he looked like a different, much smaller monarch than the noble Strongwind she remembered, but those eyes and that tight smile were un-mistakeable.
“Aye, it is, Bruni of Brackenrock and my old thane Barq One-Tooth. How did those ogre scum-lords acquire you two?”
Bruni was about to counsel discretion, at least in what they said within hearing of the rest of these prisoners, but the Barq spoke bluntly.
“We came to rescue you,” he said, shaking his head miserably. “The Lady of Brackenrock brought us here, she and the elf and a small force of volunteers, but Bruni and I were taken as we tried to penetrate the city. My Lord King, we have failed you! May all the gods strike me down as just punishment!”
Strongwind’s eyes all but bulged out of his head. Impatiently he waved off Barq’s continuing efforts at apology. “The Lady-Moreen Bayguard is alive?” he asked. “She survived the disaster at Brackenrock? How? That’s wonderful news!” He glowered, suddenly and looked askance at Bruni. “Was she captured as well? Where is she?”
“She and Kerrick avoided capture when we were taken, as best as I could see. Barq and I were carrying the Axe of Gonnas. It was hidden in a basket, but somehow it gave us away.”
“You dared come to Winterheim to rescue me? That’s mad!” Strongwind said in despair, still looking at Bruni.
“I came because Moreen was coming,” the big woman said tartly. “There was nothing I or anyone else could say that would have deterred her from the path she had chosen. She felt responsible for your capture. It was the honorable course of action.”
“How did she ever think she could succeed? No one has ever been rescued from this place!” Strongwind shook his head in agitation. “It is a hopeless quest!”