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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
"AAAAHHHH!!!" One of the orcs screamed then turned and ran from
the sword wielding mercenary. Edouard spoke a word and the blade began to
flame, the other orc, dumbfounded, a skinny and timid example of his
kind, stared in shock at the man and the magic sword.
"Kalfashow!" Edouard yelled. The burning sword arced out and
cut the orcs head from its shoulders, its greasy hair burst into flame,
the stump of neck was blackened around the edges. A fountain of blood shot
up, the orcs body dropped onto its knees then fell forward onto its chest.
The red spray painted Edouard from head to toe, he swore loudly and cursed
the beast.
Wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand Edouard gave
a scream and roaring took off after the other orc, leaving Harold alone
atop the wooden board.
Franticly Harold pulled at the rope, signaling for the others to
come up, the halfling could offer little help alone. "Come back!" he
yelled at the mercenary scout, but Edouard did not hear or did not care
to stop.
Derue felt the rope tugging in his hands, it had taken longer than
he had expected for his brother to reach the top and a touch of worry had
begun to invade his mind.
"There is the signal again." Derue told the others who had
gathered round. He tugged back and waited for the rope to be pulled up
but he was not lifted from the ground, only more tugging, another signal
to climb. "Something is wrong." he said.
What is the matter?" Telenstil asked.
"Edouard should be pulling on this rope, he's not." Derue gave the
rope another tug. "I will have to climb up."
"Wait." said Talberth. "What if it is a trap and they are waiting
for us at the top, picking us off one by one."
Derue did not reply, instead he picked up his pace and furiously
shimmied up the rope.
The orc was quick, those that survived the giants careless feet
and casual but crippling blows were the most nimble of their
kind. Edouard was close behind, the sword he carried left a brief glowing
trail as he ran.
They passed through a vast kitchen, its walls were lined with
tables, shelves and cabinets, a huge fireplace still gave off an orange
haze from dimming embers, and here and there a torch burned, held in a
sconce upon the wall. A turn to the right brought them into a larger room,
then around a corner where two doors were set in a southern wall. The
righthand door was half ajar, the orc had disappeared.
Edouard did not even pause, he ran for the partly open door and
stepped into a storage room, a pantry where meats hung from hooks, bags
of grain lay against the walls, a cooling rack with loaves of coarse brown
bread, and against the southern wall a wide set of stairs leading back
down to the dungeon he'd just escaped.
A fire was burning within Edouard, it coursed through his blood
and set a wild anger, that he could not control, aflame. He ran to the
stairs, he would kill that orc, he swore.
Halfway up the stairs three ogres stood, one held the squealing
orc in its hands and lifted it up to listen to its words. All turned to
watch the running man come charging down at them, the orc dropped from the
ogres arms but it could do no more before the fiery sword slashed across
its chest and left a wound with black burning edges soon doused with
the ogres blood.
* * *
(To Be Continued)