Winterheim

18

The tunnel leading out of the Moongarden was wide and brightly lit, oil lamps burning in wall sconces every ten paces or so along both walls. After the soft illumination of the vast cavern, Moreen found the flaring wicks to be glaring and unpleasant. Furthermore, they seemed so bright as to render her disguise almost useless-she felt as though she were walking naked, fully exposed to any ogre who happened a glance.

It took all her will to keep her head down and to follow Tookie’s casual pace, as they passed under the balconies of the ogre guardroom. Several of the brutes were up there, and she could hear them talking, even smell the stench of their sweat. She was grateful at least for the large basket she bore on her head, and in moments she and her companions were safely past, following the young girl along the broad, mostly empty corridor toward the ogre city.

Fortunately, the girl had done a good job in providing them with disguises. Moreen glanced at Bruni and Barq One-Tooth, behind her, Kerrick bringing up the rear. All of them wore brown hooded robes that Tookie had informed them were the outfits of the slaves who bore goods from the Moongarden to the various markets in the city. They carried baskets, individual loads for Moreen and Kerrick, while Barq and Bruni shared a long, almost coffin-sized, container in which they had placed the Axe of Gonnas.

“Just get out of the way if ogres come by,” said the girl, her tone matter-of-fact. “They probably will.”

For some time they made their way toward the city, meeting small parties of slaves, occasionally stepping to the side as an ogre or two ambled past. The ogres strolled along with no apparent sense of urgency. None of them seemed to take any interest in the small party of slaves.

Moreen almost dropped her basket, however, when the braying notes of a trumpet began to ring through the hall. The three rising notes originated behind her in the Moongarden and were repeated many times. Soon they were picked up by other trumpeters, and in a few minutes the notes were ringing throughout the halls of this vast underground city.

“I think they must have found Harmlor already,” Tookie said, her dark eyes serious. “You’d better just do your best to look like slaves. There’s gonna be some excitement now, you can bet.”

True to the girl’s prediction, the corridor they followed soon echoed with lumbering footsteps, and the five of them pressed to one side, allowing a band of heavily armed ogres, a score or more, to race past.

“Uh-huh, they’re going to the Moongarden,” Tookie said. “Here … we’re almost up to the city now.”

She led them through a wide archway, and Moreen looked up in amazement. The size of the place yawning before them almost defied comprehension. Clearly they were inside a great mountain. A hundred feet below them was a wide plaza, and the smell of the sea was strong in her nostrils. She saw the ogre king’s galley, Goldwing, berthed at one slip in a large harbor and realized that the whole port was enclosed within the mountain. A channel led up to the great gates, providing access to all the seas of the Icereach when those gates were opened.

Above, the ceiling soared away, up a long shaft encircled by numerous balconies. All these seemed to be filled with ogres gathering, on ledges, along the railings, peering down and up, gesturing in agitation, roaring out to each other with questions and speculation. Torches flared throughout these levels, and grotesque shadows were cast on the walls as the citizens of the city raced about in confusion and consternation. On the waterfront, several ranks of red-coated ogres were forming with military precision, responding to the orders of a silver-helmed captain.

“This way,” said Tookie, leading the four intruders onto a wide, curving ramp, a climbing surface that led them away from the harbor and into the interior of the great city. Soon they had left the view of the central atrium behind. It was again as if they were wandering through a network of caverns, only this passage seemed to lead higher and deeper into the city of ogres.

The chiefwoman couldn’t put the danger out of her mind. There were so many of ogres. How could they ever hope to succeed, now that the enemy was alert to their presence?

They had to stop and wait as yet another troop of guards rushed past, these too apparently heading toward the Moongarden. Everywhere slaves were gathered in small groups, whispering, looking around nervously, and the chiefwoman felt acutely exposed.

A voice boomed out, as loud as thunder, and Moreen froze in shock.

“The axe of fire-there it is! They try to hide it, but its glory is revealed!”

She spun around, astonished at the sight of the massive ogre they had battled at the Icewall Gate. There he was behind them, mud-splattered and bloody, pointing unerringly at the long basket borne by Barq One-Tooth and Bruni. A score of ogre guards were with him.

Astonishingly, that basket was glowing brightly, yellow light flaring beneath the wicker frame. The top seemed to quiver and dance, and the brilliance of the golden axe was the brightest thing she had ever seen.

Strongwind leaned back against the cold stone walls of his cell. He was chained in here with the rest of the men who had been taken in the salt room. It was ironic, when he thought about it-those chains were probably all that was keeping him alive right now. From the looks of hatred and contempt on the other rebels’ faces, especially Black Mike’s, he had no doubts but that the men would have killed him if they had the chance.

He had told them again and again that he was innocent of treachery. He thought of trying one more time. They had to believe that he had not been the one to reveal the plot to the queen and to call in the royal guards.

It was pointless. They refused to even look at him.

Besides, he was too tired right now … he was too tired for anything except to just sit here and wait to die.

Grimwar Bane paced fretfully back to the throne room, his wife trailing behind. Six grenadiers stood around with their halberds raised, swords loose in their scabbards, watching the doors with narrowed, squinting eyes. The king looked up when someone pounded on the doors. One of the guards, after checking through a viewing slot, opened the portal to reveal Lord Forlane.

“Well?” demanded the king. “What is the nature of the intrusion?”

The lord spoke rapidly. “The guard at the Icewall Pass gate reports that a great number of humans attacked him. He was ashamed to admit it, but apparently they bested him and killed his entire garrison. They caused him to fall into a crevasse where they left him and made their way into the Moongarden. There it seems that they made further progress by killing an ogre guard, one of the overseers of the warren slaves.”

“And the guard in command at the gate-he is not dead?”

“No, Sire. You may remember him: Karyl Drago, the, ahem, very large warrior who came here from Glacierheim in our queen’s entourage.”

“Yes-I was just thinking of him the other day. You say he was overcome by these attackers?” Grimwar Bane found that hard to believe.

“That is what he says, Sire, and he seems to be speaking the truth. There was a small army of them by his report. He says that they used a golden axe and that the magic of that blade felled him. Nevertheless, he climbed free and pursued the intruders. It was he who discovered the overseer’s body and subsequently issued the alarm.”

“Golden axe? What kind of description do we have of these intruders?” demanded Grimwar Bane. He wished Stariz would venture some suggestion, but she watched silently, white-faced and trembling.

“It seems they are humans, Sire,” Lord Forlane reported. “Both Arktos and Highlanders, by the report. Oddly enough, there were two women with the leaders. One was small and dark, the other was much larger. She is the one, according to Karyl Drago, who bore that axe of gold, the blade of which burst into fire before his very face.”

“Then it’s true! It is the sacred axe!” declared Stariz, her face transfixed by an expression of fierce joy. “It returns to me!”

“The Axe of Gonnas …”

All too well Grimwar Bane remembered his wife’s dream of some nights before-at least at the time, he had dismissed it has a dream-that the sacred axe was near and was returning to her temple.

For the first time since discovering his lover’s body, he began to wonder if perhaps the humans really were to blame for all his troubles.

“Very well. We must act at once,” declared the king stoutly, suddenly seeing exactly what needed to be done. “Forlane, I want you to find Captain Verra. Command him to muster all the grenadiers. He is to watch the approach into the city from the Moongarden as well as keep an eye on the slaves at the Seagate and in the lumber yards. We don’t want to take any chances. If he notices any signs of an insurrection, he must act quickly and without mercy to contain the slaves.”

Suddenly that nightmare possibility, the notion he had discussed as a hypothetical with Captain Verra just a few days before, seemed a real danger. Had the slaves of Winterheim, the humans who outnumbered their ogre masters by two or three to one, somehow organized a revolt?

“Aye, Sire! It shall be as you command!” declared the noble ogre.

“What about the higher levels of the city?” asked the queen, her eyes wide.

“I myself will take command up here,” said Grimwar Bane. “I will send the entire palace garrison to guard the ramps, to make sure there is no chance for intruders-be they Arktos or Highlanders … or rebellious slaves! — to work any mischief in the upper reaches of Winterheim!”

“Make haste! Make haste!” barked the queen. “Find the Axe of Gonnas and bring it here to me at once!”

The lord looked at the king for confirmation. Grimwar grimaced but then nodded.

“Yes!” he ordered. “Do as she says!”

“Mouse, there’s something bad going on out there!”

The Arktos warrior sat up groggily, shaking the sleep from his mind. It was Feathertail, he saw, and she was speaking quietly but with undeniable urgency. He remembered she was one of the warriors who had stayed on guard duty while he settled down to get some much-needed rest.

Without a word, he followed her to the lip of the grotto where the human warriors had concealed themselves. They both crawled forward, peering between a pair of massive fungi stalks, to peer into the great breadth of the Moongarden. They had seen a huge ogre go through a few hours before, coming from the same direction the war party had taken, and Mouse had even speculated on the resemblance between that gigantic creature and the monstrous guardian at the Icewall Gate, the brute who had vanished into the crevasse. There had been no unusual activity since then, until the braying of the horns that had coincided with Mouse awakening.

Now Mouse immediately saw a group of ogres, a dozen or more of them, moving across an open field at a jog. The brutes wore cloaks of red and carried spears in both hands, the weapons’ gleaming tips angled before them aggressively. One, apparently a captain, shouting and gestured, and several of the ogres broke away from the main group to charge into a narrow, shaded trail between the groves of giant mushrooms.

“They’re looking for us, I think,” Feathertail whispered. “There are three or four groups of them running around like that.”

Mouse felt a stab of fear. “Some kind of alarm has gone out.” He thought of Moreen and her companions and sent a silent prayer to Chislev Wilder pleading for their safety. What should he do now?

Thane Larsgall came rushing up to them, sliding to his own perch on the lip of the drop off. The waterfall plunged nearby, noisy enough that it would cover any slight sounds they made.

“Sooner or later they’ll make their way up here,” the Highlander noted.

Mouse nodded. “I guess we’d better keep our weapons handy and get ready. At least they won’t take us by surprise!”

Stariz watched her husband through narrowed eyes. The king had momentarily forgotten all about Thraid’s murder-a good thing too, since it was proving hard to convince him that the slave king was the culprit. Thus, the distraction of the human intruders could not have come at a better time, for Stariz had almost begun to fear for her life. Now that the king was involved in this new crisis, she could set aside the problem of the dead mistress and later find other ways to win him over. In fact, she could use clerical magic to fog his mind if it became necessary.

Hmmm, that was a good idea.

Right now there was one thing more important than all else, only one truth that dominated her thoughts and infused her with hope and passion.

The Axe of Gonnas! These intruders had it with them. It was only a matter of time until it was returned to her!

The huge ogre had honed in on Bruni and Barq, barking and jabbering as he pressed them against the wall of the corridor. They shielded the basket containing the golden axe, which momentarily stayed his attack. Kerrick, Moreen, and the slave girl edged outside the ring of other ogre guards and for the moment were ignored in the confusion.

The elf saw Moreen’s hand slip under her robe and knew she was making a move for the sword she wore concealed there. He stepped into her roughly, taking her elbow in a firm grip, pushing her away from the throng of ogres converging around Bruni and Barq. From the corner of his eye, the elf saw Tookie also scamper away, avoiding the melee.

“Let me go!” demanded the chiefwoman, her voice a hiss of fury.

“No,” he replied, levelly.

Forcefully he pulled her to the side, where many other slaves were gathering to watch the unfolding events. He turned them around so they too could watch Bruni and Barq but kept his hand firmly on her arm. This time she didn’t try to break away from him.

“They’re caught,” he whispered. “We can’t do anything against twenty ogres! The worst thing we can do is to get taken with them-then all our hope is gone!”

More guards converged from before them, and the two big humans were flattened against the wall of the corridor with nowhere to go. Barq and Bruni stood back to back now, the basket containing the axe on the ground behind their legs. They had the good sense not to flourish their weapons against the score or more of ogres who had them trapped.

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!”