Beltayne could barely contain his glee. Hand over hand he went, climbing up the rope dropped down the side of the tower.
That silly Val. Though, she had to turn into that rodent creature... How deplorable.
It was true. That wretched rat transformation tormented the she-elf, but it certainly came in handy for Beltayne and his followers. Luckily, Telerek had a rope long enough to reach the bottom of the tower after Val climbed all the way to the top. He'd made quick work of the two hapless guards with well-placed arrows—the group met no other resistance.
Beltayne was the last one up, graciously allowing the others to go first as any proper squire would. When he reached the top, he stuck a hand up for one of them to grab... but no one did. He waved his hand and still no grasp. Grunting, Beltayne flung himself up and over the rampart of the tower, crashing to the ground. He rolled over and popped up to his feet and dusted himself off.
"Thank you all for waiting for me," he said, head held high. "We can now..." He trailed off. No one paid him any mind. He cleared his throat. Kel'dhos glanced in his direction, an eyebrow raised. "Ah, thank you, Small-Ears. You may continue."
Telerek, Magnus and Magnar stood at the far end of the rooftop peering out over the ramparts. Kel'dhos had turned his attention back to a large post contraption jutting upward from a hole in the center of the tower.
"What in the great Maiden of Ice is that thing?" asked Beltayne.
Kel'dhos prodded at the thing. "I am not sure, Bel. Look at this... It is some sort of amalgamation of metals."
Beltayne stepped up beside him and leaned in to get a better look. It was an assortment of metals melded together. Steel, iron, copper, tin, among many others Beltayne could not name. A rope winding around the metal post snagged his attention. The other end disappeared down into the tower. Beltayne prodded the thing with his dirty boot. It was hard as stone.
"Why is there a rope around this metal beast? And why is it so firm?"
Kel'dhos knelt, fiddling with it. Small-Ears always did these sorts of things. Tending to things lesser than him. A knight-to-be wouldn't stoop that low—literally. He'd let the holy elf handle it.
"It's metal!" said Kel'dhos a little too loudly.
"Shhh," Telerek hissed.
He somehow appeared right beside Beltayne, who flinched. He shot a sideways glance at the roguish elf to make sure he hadn't seen his moment of weakness.
Whew... Thank the Snowy Queen Small-Ears had his blunder or he would've noticed my fright.
"It's a miracle we haven't alerted the entire garrison," Telerek said. "But please be quiet." He gestured back to the wall. "The fortress is surrounded by an army."
Beltayne walked over to Magnus and peered out over the rampart. Thousands of orcs surrounded the fort. Large blazes dotted the writhing mass of soldiers.
"They lay siege," Beltayne said.
"Aye," replied Magnus. "We must hurry. Something big is about to happen here."
The party gathered around the metal contraption and looked downward into the belly of the tower. Darkness—aside from a few flickers of light. Using the rope they'd climbed the tower with, Telerek fastened it to one of the strange metal cables.
Beltayne put a hand on Telerek's arm. "I shall delve into this abyssal tower first, Tel." The wood-elf muttered something under his breath that Beltayne could only think was encouragement. Grabbing the rope, Beltayne lowered himself into the dark. He couldn't see anything around him. Though he did smell something foul. He didn't like that one bit. Smelled like death.
As he neared what he believed to be the bottom floor, light seeped upward. A few candles flickered from a workstation table. Beltayne lowered himself slowly, eyes darting around the room. He had no idea what he was seeing. Several wooden slab tables were arranged parallel to each other in the center of the room. By his count, there were five—and they had creatures on them. His feet found solid ground, jolting him back to his surroundings. Still dark, but thankfully, faint candlelight showed shelves of glass cups and other things filled with only the Queen knows what, their shadows dancing about.
He crept closer to the nearest table and nearly recoiled. It was a gargantuan of a creature—comprised of all sorts of animal parts. An abomination with the torso of a wild bear, a long whip-like tail from some monster he couldn't name, and the head of a rabid wolf—black and mottled. Frayed brown straps held it tightly to the table, so tightly in fact that the creature's fur and muscle bulged on either side. Its eyes were closed and large gashes were carved across wolf's head—clearly a battle lost—and slobber dribbled from the corner of its mouth. It lay motionless. Four other abominations lay on tables beyond.
Growing bored with the dead things, he wandered over to the candlelit table and rummaged through the papers. He didn't know why he bothered, he couldn't read the blasted things. All manner of jars, scrolls, and metal sticks.
"What in the hells."
Beltayne whirled around. Magnar stood over the bear creature, poking it with the butt of his warhammer. Magnus and the others appeared from the darkness. All gasping at the sight. Except Telerek. He never seemed surprised by anything.
"The metal ropes are connected to each table," Telerek said.
Magnar walked over to the metal and knocked on it. "What is it for?"
"This looks like some sort of laboratory," added Magnus. He stroked his beard as he leaned over the corpse. "But I've never seen anything like this before."
"No wonder the orcs feared this shaman..." said Telerek.
"This—this isn't natural," stammered Val. "This isn't right..."
"Silly Val," began Beltayne. "They're dead—"
A strange sound rippled through the air—unnatural, incorporeal. Laughter? Beltayne's head swiveled about, searching for the source of the echoing, sinister laugh. Nothing alive was in this room outside of him and his followers. Where?
The room lit like a sunburst. Blue light flashed, blinding Beltayne. Crackling filled his ears, followed by a whirring. Seconds passed and he blinked away the glare, finding the room lit with an eerie green, much like the fluorescence of the cave in Tiuv, but much more sinister. Beltayne's breath quickened when he realized what happened.
Electricity pulsed down the metal cables from the ceiling, surging into the abominations on the tables. They began to move.
"Lightning struck that thing!" Magnus yelled, pointing up to the top of the tower. "It's powered this place!"
Things came to life around them. Winter's Bite hissed as Beltayne drew it. "'Bout time. Let me dance among these undead fiends!" shouted the blade.
Bright light flooded the room now—a stark contrast to from moments before. Snap. Snap. Snap. The nearest vile creature tore at its straps, ripping itself free from its wooden prison. The wolf-bear snarled, baring its long canines. And its eyes. He'd never seen eyes so evil. Glowing a pale green, the creature set its rage-filled gaze upon Beltayne. He shuddered, but steeled himself, raising his sentient blade ready to bite. The beast charged. A horrifying roar came with a clawed paw. Beltayne lunged into the monster, dodging the swipe. Winter's Bite bit into fur—another howl from the wolf-bear. Something smashed into Beltayne's flank. The world turned end over end, and he crashed into a shelf, cracking wood and shattering glass.
"Get to your feet, you dolt!" Winter's Bite scolded. "Stop letting things hit you!"
"I am sorry, oh blade of wisdom. I will do better."
Beltayne rose to his feet, ready to rejoin the fight. Magnar's roar dwarfed the abomination's, his warhammer arcing through the air. A sickening thud and a howl from the beast told Beltayne the barbarian's strike proved true. But the wolf-bear seemed to only grow more furious. Two paws slammed into Magnar's chitin armor, sending him flailing backward into a table, breaking it in half. Panther-Val pounced from atop a shelf, slashing down the monster's back. In one fluid motion—as if she were water itself—she hit the ground then leapt toward another beast and out of sight.
Beltayne sprinted toward the creature that flung Magnar. From behind, Magnus muttered something nonsensical and violet spears whistled over Beltayne's head, burying deep into the flesh of the beast before him. It roared with fury and swiped at him once more. Wide-eyed, Beltayne dove to his right, narrowly avoiding the ripping claws. But now he had an opening. Winter's Bite slashed at the rear leg cutting into sinew and nicking bone. A massive paw smashed into Beltayne's chest as the abomination whirled around, sending him soaring backward again. He hit the ground hard and rolled, crashing into Magnus, who shouted obscenities as his fire spell shot upward into the reaches of the tower.
"Are you alright, my pointy-hat-less friend?" asked Beltayne. Using Winter's Bite as a crutch, he stood and pulled Magnus to his feet.
The wizard dusted himself off and nodded. Fire forming in his left hand as his right dug in his satchel.
There he goes guarding his hand inside his wizard purse again.
Warmth filled the room as flames spewed from Magnus' hand, engulfing one of the monsters. Burnt hair fouled the air. To Beltayne's horror, the beast was still standing and howling. Except its fur was gone—only boiling skin remained, bloodied and raw.
Pulling his sword close, Beltayne spoke softly. "I call upon you to be the conduit of my Queen's power."
"Ugh," groaned Winter's Bite. "If you must."
A smile flashed across Beltayne's face. "Mighty Queen of Falling Snow, I will smite this monstrosity in your name!" A familiar cool air swirled around him as he gripped the sword with both hands. The blade began to glow an icy white-blue, and he charged the beast. He ducked a swipe from its deadly paw, blood splattering onto his face from the charred flesh. He spun around, flourishing Winter's Bite. Beltayne ran the abomination through with his icy blade down to the hilt. It was no longer somewhat protected by thick fur. An explosion of icy shards burst from its back. Winter's Bite grew frigid as ice emanated from the entry wound, spreading across the monster's body. Ripping the blade free, Beltayne reared back and swung upward across the beast. Ice shards scattered about the floor as a gaping slash opened in its torso, bloody icicles dangling from within. A weak groan was all that came from the monster before it toppled backward, smashing a table.
Beltayne peered out over the carnage. Three other creatures lay dead. The last was riddled with arrows while Kel'dhos and Panther-Val bombarded it from the front. Mace then claws, followed by arrows. It amazed Beltayne that the beast still stood, let alone still fought.
Magnar stood over one of the dead abominations then kicked its head across the room, spitting at it as it rolled. Magnus left a smoldering corpse in his wake and joined the fray, throwing more fire at the lone remaining foe. Beltayne watched, sheathing his sword as his followers felled the final beast.
"You did well, my steel friend." Beltayne patted the hilt of Winter's Bite.
"Shut up, you dolt. But... you did well too," said the sword. "Except for the times when you flew through the air because you couldn't dodge."
"I was merely testing the beast's strength, silly. If I didn't want to be struck, I wouldn't be. You know better!"
All Beltayne heard was an exasperated sigh from his trusty weapon companion.
The laughter returned.
Echoing throughout the tower. A sinister, hair-raising laugh. Then out of thin air, appeared a figure. Materializing from nothing, they hovered downward before landing on the ground. A strange fuzzy glow outlined it. Their grey cloak billowed as if caught in the wind. Beltayne thought that odd. There was no wind here. The figure removed their hood, revealing a surprisingly soft-featured face for a male, though his jowls bulged oddly.
An orc? No... his ears look elvish... but....
Beltayne pointed at the newcomer, elbowing Kel'dhos. "Look, Small-Ears. He also has small ears!"
Kel'dhos didn't say anything. He was enthralled by the creature before them, who still rumbled with a low, menacing laughter.
"There is nothing funny here, Stunted-Ears," Beltayne said, puffing out his chest, chin high. "What is the meaning of all this?"
A chill ran through Beltayne, though not the chill of his homeland. No. This was a chill of fear. He would never admit it to his followers... but when the cloaked man's eyes met his... fear devoured him. The knife-like gaze cut Beltayne to the core.
"You think you are entitled to know?" His voice was low and deep. "No. You are not, are you. I know your kind, elf. Stupid ice-lovers and your pointless existence."
Beltayne wanted to draw his blade and run him through. But he was frozen. Willing his arm to move... but nothing.
"No..." continued the newcomer. "You shall not learn of my plans. You fools know not what comes your way. Your deaths are inevitable. 'Tis a shame Blacktide sent his own dogs to do his dirty work for once. No matter. Your failure will be his..."
"Blacktide?" asked Magnus, eyebrows raised.
"Do not play me the fool!" boomed the ethereal voice. The orcish man slowly rose from the ground.
Horns wailed in the distance, muffled by the tower. The robed man turned as if peering through the building. Then stone rained down upon Beltayne and the others. A large boulder came crashing through the tower, smashing into the ground mere feet from Magnar and Magnus. Coughing, Beltayne stood and found the orcish man floating in the air above them.
"I am leaving this land. Continue this path... and you will have all but guaranteed your deaths." He launched upward and faded from view. Beltayne wasn't sure if it was because he reached the outside or if he actually disappeared. Either way, the orc-man was strange. And very rude.
"Magnus," Telerek said. "What in the hells was that thing?"
Magnus shrugged. "Someone very powerful. Though, he didn't actually use any magic, so I do not know what his source is."
"As much as it pains me." Kel'dhos pressed a hand to his head and shook it. "Beltayne is right. Whatever that man was, he was of elvish and orcish heritage. A marriage I've not yet seen in this world."
"Of course I am right, Kel'dhos. It was plainly obvious. His ears were stunted and he looked like an orc." Beltayne scoffed and walked away from the conversation. He couldn't believe Kel'dhos would think to question his observation. Beltayne reached what he assumed was the tower door and pushed it open. The two dead guards were slumped at his feet just outside—arrows decorating their skulls. To his right, orcs began filing into the courtyard near the main gate and its portcullis.
Telerek and Magnar brushed past him and hauled the bodies into the tower. Telerek made a point of concealing them. Orcs streamed from the barracks, marching to impending battle and it was best to not alert them of their presence.
Hundreds of orcs filtered into the courtyard. It baffled Beltayne. How had there been that many in here? Nevertheless, he and his followers allowed them passage. Best not to start a fight they could not win.
It wasn't long until a storm of boulders began. Stone bombarded the fortress—more stone crashed into the tower. Beltayne and the others rushed back the way they'd come. The tower crumbled in a heap of dust and rubble, becoming the final resting place for the undead abominations.
Leaving an unwanted battle behind them, they descended the stairs and reached the slave quarters where they found Will and the others. Much more relaxed and eating food, the group of slaves seemed to be doing better in Beltayne's eyes. Will no longer seemed so haggard and frail. They'd set up a small fire spit in the corner and were heating some broth. Beltayne watched as one of the slaves handed a young woman a bowl. She winced and rushed to a nearby table, setting it down quickly, shaking her hands and blowing on them. He'd heard Telerek and the others discussing their escape back through the underground tunnels. He'd found that dumb as the feces beast was still somewhere down there. Deciding their conversation was a bore, he set his attention back to the woman.
"Your broth is much too hot," said Beltayne when he reached the young woman. Her face was rosy, her eyes kind and she threw a smile at him. "I can fix that for you!" He leaned over the steaming bowl and grinned. "That smells fantastic." He placed a hand on the side of the bowl and a chill ran through him—strength. A crust of thin ice spread across its surface, quelling the steam. "There! You shouldn't have to worry about scalding yourself anymore."
She picked up the bowl and spooned some broth into her mouth. She nodded emphatically. "Thank you, kind sir! It's perfect!"
Beltayne turned and saw his followers, along with Will and the other slaves, staring at him. He froze. "The Icy Queen's magic is powerful. I've been known to perform miracles—at least to those in my homeland. You'll all see in time."
Kel'dhos and Magnus rolled their eyes. Magnar grumbled and spun away. Val was picking at her fingers in the corner.
Telerek, on the other hand, had never worn a smirk so big. At least, not that Beltayne had ever seen. What was this elf planning?
"Our escape was going to be difficult," said Telerek. "But I have an idea..."