The Captive Flame

As they paced along, he kept hoping for a branching passage. Because there was a guard station, barracks, or something similar up ahead. He hadn’t been able to see it in the dark, but he’d heard the murmur of voices as the vampires marched Jhesrhi and him back and forth.

But it appeared fickle Tymora had forgotten him again. Or, to be fair, maybe it was a bit much to ask her to reach back in time, trespass in the business of Kossuth and Grumbar, and alter the way lava carved rifts in the volcano just to smooth his path. In any case, no alternate route presented itself before he heard voices once again and caught the smells of wood smoke and roasting meat. His hunk of stale bread hadn’t been all that big or satisfying, and the latter aroma made his mouth water.

“They’re going to think it odd that two Thayans are coming out of the prison,” Jhesrhi whispered.

“Especially when they didn’t notice two Thayans going in,” Gaedy

“Right.” They walked on.

The way widened, and openings led off the passage to interco

There was at least one, though. Frowning, a one-eyed orc peered out into the passage. Gaedy

Other voices replied, and footsteps scurried. Five other orcs emerged from openings up ahead, then gathered together to form a single group.

It didn’t look like they meant to attack. Not yet anyway. But they evidently didn’t intend to let the strangers pass without a word or two of explanation either.

Still, it didn’t seem all that dire a situation until the light floated close enough to show them clearly. Then Gaedy

Oh well. Gaedy

When Jhesrhi and he came close enough to converse without difficulty, he gave a brusque nod. “We’ll return to our accommodations now.”

“Accommodations?” the shaman asked. He spoke Chessentan without an accent, and although his staff was carved of shadow-wood rather than blackwood and the rune-engraved rings that banded it at intervals were made of some exotic red metal instead of gold, it appeared as handsomely crafted and civilized an artifact as the one Jhesrhi had lost in Mourktar.

“The quarters Lord Jaxanaedegor assigned to Lady Azhir,” Gaedy

One of the soldier orcs turned to mutter in the sorcerer’s pointed ear. In the process, he gave Gaedy

“We understand,” the sorcerer said. “But how did you get into the cell?”

Gaedy

“But why go to the cell at all?” the shaman persisted. “I wouldn’t ask, but the prisoners are my responsibility.”

“We didn’t hurt them,” Gaedy

“You’re free to go, of course,” the sorcerer said, “and I’m sorry if I gave offense.” He and the other orcs shifted to the sides of the passage.

As Jhesrhi and Gaedy

An eyeless black rat crawled out of the sorcerer’s collar and perched on his shoulder. Where it sniffed repeatedly like a bloodhound.

Would Jhesrhi’s disguises deceive the nose as they did the eyes? Gaedy

He drew the scimitar, pivoted, and cut. The sorcerer fell backward with blood gushing from his throat. The familiar tumbled from his shoulder.

Gaedy

They drove in, and he gave ground before them. Jhesrhi slashed her hand from right to left and raked them with a flare of flame. One caught fire and reeled. Though barely singed, the other two faltered. Taking advantage of their distraction, Gaedy

The burning orc dropped too. Gaedy

The orc pitched forward. His finger still pulled the trigger of his crossbow, but the bolt merely hit the floor a pace or two in front of him.

“I thought we were trying to trick our way through,” Jhesrhi said. “It still might have worked.”

“Maybe,” Gaedy

Which turned out to be goat. It was still half raw, but they didn’t have time to linger and turn the spit. They gobbled their fill and moved on.

In time they found their way to a broad shelf where the ceiling rose high enough to permit a huddle of stone buildings and stubby towers. Beyond was a gray sky.

The sight of any sky would have excited Gaedy

“What’s the plan?” Jhesrhi allowed her floating light to blink out of existence. “Try to walk out like we have every right to?”

Gaedy

They headed into the cluster of buildings. Gaedy

A stooped, dirty man stepped into the sellswords’ path, noticed them, hesitated as though trying to decide whether they were close enough that he needed to bow or kneel, and then settled for scurrying on his way. A sentry, also human, watched their progress from the battlements atop one of the towers, but not with any show of suspicion or even much curiosity.

Beyond the edge of the shelf, the mountainside fell away in a slope shallow enough to permit cultivation. Slaves bent in freshly plowed fields, planting peas or beans in the furrows and grain on the ridges. Overseers with whips sauntered among them.

Nearby was a barn, and horses standing in a paddock. Gaedy