WilburWoods
patreon
Chapter 49 - The Descent
🕑 Added 2023-10-02 16:44:35 +0000 UTCLogan kept his fingers on the Dorves collar, with his thumb ready to push the needle into his captive. His palms were sweating, and he had to adjust his grip constantly. Every time he did it, the cornrowed Dorf would slyly glance behind him to see if Logan was paying attention.
“What’s behind this corner?” Logan asked when they came to an intersection.
“Just another hallway, man,” The Dorf said, agitated. “What’s with all these questions?”
“None of your business,” Logan hissed. “But if it doesn’t look like anything you described, you’re getting the needle.”
The Dorf growled and was silent, until Logan stopped right at the corner. Ever so slightly he pressed the dart against the Dorf’s skin, who stiffened.
“There’s a barracks and a market for the soldiers, man!” The Dorf said.
“Keep your goddamn voice down,” Logan snapped. “We are not going there. What’s up ahead?”
“Infirmary and a way to my village,” the Dorf said. “I’m telling you, we have to go through the barracks if you want out, man.”
“Is it empty?” Logan asked.
“Should be. All the soldiers are clearing the Deep and hunting for crystals.”
“Deep sounds like underground. You’re dead in a very nasty way if you’re taking me somewhere I don’t want to go.”
“It’s the way outside, man,” the Dorf insisted. “There’s a bridge over a chasm. You go into the Deep through the chasm.”
“What’s at the bridge?”
“Support personnel, The Dorf said as they carefully took to the hallway towards the barracks. “Look. I’ll take you there if that’s what you want to do. There ought be ten, maybe twenty of my people there. You will be captured.”
“If that’s how it will be, we’re cool,” Logan said and pushed his captive to walk faster. “But if there’s more, you’re going to regret this.”
“I’m telling you the truth man! Please don’t kill me!”
That’s what Logan wanted to hear. Not because it felt good. It felt terrible and made him sick to do this. Whoever had made the deal to fool humans and get them killed, was probably not this guy. He was just a guy going about his life. Apparently equivalent to a military police for the dwarven soldiers.
Getting past twenty Dorves, even if they didn’t have a combat class, could be close to impossible. Logan had recollected the needles he had used against his prison guards, and so he had a few poison darts left for his escape. The hand clutching his blowpipe was clammy.
They walked carefully a few steps ahead, before Logan saw a shadow in the distance as well as echoes of footsteps. He quickly pressed himself and his captive against the wall, pressing the dart’s tip against the Dorf’s fleshy cheek.
“You lied to me,” Logan said quietly.
“No!” The Dorf said, eyeing the tip at his cheek with horror. “There should be no guards.”
Carefully they approached closer, and Logan’s captive seemed to have spoken the truth. The corridor was dim, but there was only one Dorf with intricate braided locks of brown hair, holding a torch, humming to himself and going from room to room with a sack.
The Dorf ahead heard their footsteps and must have seen some shapes in the dim lighting, because he froze at the sight of them and then quickly went inside a room.
Logan’s captive tensed up and started trembling with anger. “Thief.”
Logan scoffed at that and blew out some air. He was so tense. Whatever this thief’s intentions had been, Logan was sure they had changed after he had noticed a human in the compound. It was likely he would scamper off and tell somebody.
[It is noteworthy that a thief would most likely not want to subject himself to questions along the lines of “what were you doing there?”. However there is a 76.20% chance the thief recognized that you are holding a hostage and attempting to escape, which might supersede the thief’s personal notions in favor of the community. ]
I’m taking no chances.
But if Logan was going to deal with the thief and attempt to cross the bridge, he couldn’t have this grumpy cornrow guy trying to meddle.
“Here is the deal,” Logan whispered. “You tell me in detail what is up ahead right now.”
“There are four barrack rooms ahead. If you walk straight you pass them. To the right fifty yards from here is the market district for the soldiers. But if you continue straight for two hundred yards, you will come to the atrium with the chasm. You will literally see outside from the atrium, man.”
“Are there guards at the doorway?”
“Sometimes,” The Dorf said, trying to inch away from the dart’s tip. “If there are, not more than two.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No,” The dorf said, almost indignant. “You have no concept of honor.”
“Neither do your leaders,” Logan muttered. “If I discover you’ve lied, I’ll come and hunt you down, even if it’s the last thing I do. So one more chance. Are you lying?”
“No! Please!”
“Good,” Logan said and gently lifted the pressure of the dart tip on the Dorf’s cheek. His whole posture sagged in relief. It really seemed like the stout little guy was telling the truth.
“Thank you,” Logan said quietly.
With quick and deft movements Logan plucked a piss-poisoned dart from his pocket and jammed it in the Dorf’s neck. Fear and outrage bloomed on his face.
“Don’t worry,” Logan said. “It’s just a paralyzing agent. I never had any lethal poisons to begin with. Humans are tricky, but we’re not monsters. Well, most of us try not to be. Good night, man.”
*
Dealing with the thief was easy. Logan threw a flashbang into the room through the door left ajar by the scoundrel. There was a yelp by the door and then the Dorf came out flailing a knife in all directions. Logan tripped him over and pricked him with a dart. After a moment of convulsion the thief went limp.
Logan took a few minutes to drag both of the paralyzed Dorves inside the barracks room and closed the door. They would know Logan had escaped the minute someone checked his cell. But at least Logan wouldn’t be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind him. That might buy him more than the few minutes he spent here.
It was just as the warden Dorf had told Logan. Ahead was an atrium like others Logan had seen in the ruins of the First Folk, but this one had no massive floating crystal in the middle of the room on a pedestal. Instead it had a massive gash in the stone floor spanning across the room, twenty feet in width. In a cluster near the gash were tents and scaffolding.
On the other side of the gash, Logan could see a doorway from which shone in natural light. It was evening already, but the sweet fresh outside beckoned him like a lighthouse. Freedom was a mere hundred paces away. Logan huddled against the turn of the corner into the room and observed.
The tents were of white fabric, and Logan could see there were some Dorves moving inside. Outside there was a female Dorf with an intricate braided blonde bun and homely features. She hummed to herself as she washed some cloth in a bucket.
He looked at his blowpipe and sighed. He really wished he had a better weapon. It was unlikely even with his middling [Marksmanship] that he would be accurate beyond ten feet without even fletched darts.
But If I’m sneaky and lucky enough, I won’t have to fight at all.
The bridge was literally blocks of wood in a row, nailed together. It was merely three feet in width and had no railing. Logan figured the bridge had been put together so that it could be dropped into the chasm if the Dorves were attacked.
After the lady washing at the bucket went inside a tent, Logan decided to go for it. This was as good a chance as he would get. Clutching his blowpipe, Logan kept low and crept to the shoddy bridge.
It had a slight wobble to it, which didn’t exactly make Logan feel better. But the faint outline of the evening sky gave him courage and he took another step, willing himself to not look down.
After a few steps on the shoddy planks Logan heard an alarmed shout behind him. His heart sank. He glanced over his shoulder and saw multiple Dorves, men and women, clearly a support crew for the warriors down in the Deep, wearing aprons and holding mallets and kitchen knives. Which they immediately started to throw at Logan.
Logan scrambled for a cherry-sized rock from his pocket and lobbed it over his shoulder. A muffled blast, like from a really old-timey camera flashed behind him. The Dorves shouted in fear at the loss of their senses. A stray wooden mallet struck Logan on the back. It was a deft throw and it toppled Logan over.
He scrambled upon the planks and they cracked loudly under him. While the Dorves were stout, they probably weighed a bit less than Logan. With his heart in his throat, Logan carefully got up, but too, too slow. The Dorves probably didn’t know exactly what was Logan’s deal, but they didn’t care. Half-blind, but driven by anger and fear, they got up to the plank-bridge. They shouted and heaved. Logan shot up and ran for it, but too late.
The Dorves pushed the bridge over the ledge.
Logan fell into the abyss.
