~Thorben~
Thorben fantasized about kicking in the main entrance of the keep’s great hall and weaving through the room, reaping death upon his enemy. An unstoppable shadow bringing justice. Distractions meant death, he acknowledged these thoughts, gave them a bit of attention and then discarded them. It would be an act of insanity. They had no credible information on the strengths or abilities of the duke or his personal guards. Stealth would be their ally today. Thorben knew he could very well die today, and he continuously cycled his active mediation technique to keep himself calm.
From what the guard had shared about the keep layout, there were three ways to enter the great hall: the main entrance, a side servant access, and the entrance to the private ducal wing. The only realistic option available to them was the servants’ access, and even that relied on their presence so far as being undetected. Between the sound of battle in the courtyard and the absence of twenty-four guards, ten of which should have been patrolling, Thorben couldn’t see how they’d escaped detection so far.
They took some time to discuss their next steps. Thorben fought the urge to rush forward and finish this. Spending time now could prevent their death later. “We took out ten in the courtyard and 15 in the barracks,” Tanrin said with obvious impatience. “We should be able to take six in the Great Hall.”
“That Sergeant was a challenge. He had decent training and definitely had combat experience. We have depended a lot on a mixture of luck and ruthlessness. There is another sergeant, a lieutenant, four elite guards, and the Duke himself in the Great Hall. Potentially, the level of skill in that room far exceeds what we have faced so far.” Thorben said.
“So blast ‘em with lightning to the head!” Tanrin exclaimed in exasperation. He had never been great at prolonged situations, preferring to strike heavy and fast. This applied equally in practical jokes, sibling competition, and apparently now in actual combat. Now that they were this close to the duke, the waiting was eating at him.
“Arrows. They are called lightning arrows. I’d love to, but my mana isn’t fully recharged. At best, I have two of them, which still leaves five people left to deal with. We need to do the unexpected. Feel like being a prisoner?” Thorben had been pondering an idea throughout his brother’s insistence on storming the gates, and now was the time to present it. He was certain that his mostly formulated plan would work. Now he needed to persuade his brother, but didn’t want to waste too much time.
A quarter of an hour later, Tanrin mumbled as they headed to the great hall’s main doors. “I still don’t see why we can’t just go in blasting instead of hog tying me.” Tanrin was wearing his gear while his hands were loosely tied behind his back. It gave the appearance of capture but one tug, and he would be free to retrieve the axe from Thorben’s hand. Thorben had pieced together the dead guard’s clothes from the barracks into a mostly blood free set. He’d even found a hooded cloak the guards used in rain and quickly put that on as well. While the hood would look out of place, he knew that without it his debuff would end their chances before they began. He hoped that their ruse would last long enough for a plan to present itself.
“We need to sell this. I want to save my mana until it’s needed.” Thorben said. “Scout the room, gather intel, and then we engage with decisiveness. Let’s go.”
Thorben pushed open the great hall door and shoved Tanrin through, causing him to stumble and fall. Thorben saw the look in his brother’s eyes. The words remained unspoken, but the message was clear. I’m going to pay you back for that. The guards on each side of the door began to draw their weapons at the sudden entrance, but seeing a bound prisoner, they eased them back down.
As Thorben’s eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he noticed that, aside from the two guards by the main door, the remainder of his elite guard surrounded the Duke. The Duke and his retinue were near the center of the back wall of the hall. The Duke was lounging on an extravagant throne, one leg thrown over the armrest. A younger looking version of the Duke sat on a less extravagant throne on the Duke’s right-hand side while a large man in an officer’s uniform stood on the Duke’s left. It would be difficult to cross that distance without being discovered, but he thought there was a chance. At least until he noticed the somewhat unexpected figure laying prostrate at the duke’s feet, Cliff.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?!” The Duke’s demand oddly contrasting the way he remaining seated, taking a drink from his goblet. That’s what the wealthy call Tankards, right?
“Forgiveness Duke, Sergeant Brantley insisted I bring you this prisoner. He figured you would want to hear what he has to say.” Thorben said, grabbing Tanrin and hauling him to his feet. As if providing restraint, he left his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He continued to lead them closer.
“Halt,” the Duke said. His voice flashed into one of command. Thorben ceased moving. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the guards tense up. They hadn’t made it as far as he wanted. “He did, did he? And who might you be to bring the prisoner in his stead?”
“Private Braaten, your grace,” Thorben promptly responded. The duke glanced over at, who Thorben assumed was, the Lieutenant. A slight shake of the Lieutenant’s head didn’t ease Thorben’s mind.
“Has the weather changed since I broke fast on my veranda?” The duke sarcastically asked.
Fucking debuff! “No, your grace. Just a bit sunny for my taste,” Thorben responded, seeking to fake meekness. “Sergeant Brantley is… questioning… another prisoner. After seeing this axe, he ordered me to bring him to you.”
The Duke’s laughter echoed off the walls. His hardened eyes betraying the sincerity of the mirth. Thorben felt Tanrin’s shoulder tighten up as if preparing to spring into action. He squeezed it until Tanrin relented.
“Our Sergeant does enjoy questioning. Though why he brought a man afraid of sunlight into our fold is perplexing.” Duke McGuire said, as if making an observation of the most confusing enigma that had ever presented itself.
“To be honest, your grace. Sergeant Brantley’s exact words were ‘take this prisoner to the Duke and cover that face of yours. No one wants to stare at the ugliest mother fucker this side of Drazalar. You look like a diseased Thurti’s anus, you know that, right?’” Thorben relayed to the Duke. “I had no desire to be the subject of the Sergeant’s proclivities and followed his order to the letter.”
“Smart decision, Private Thurti’s Ass.” The Duke said with a chuckle. “I may be a man that indulges in the finer things in life, but I am not a man who is afraid of the filth. Kindly remove your hood.”
The two guards at the door stepped forward. Seeing no other choice, and briefly squeezed his brother’s shoulder, hoping that their near preternatural brotherly communication would convey his intentions. He passed Tanrin to the first guard and turned to hand the axe to the second. Tanrin didn’t miss a beat and sprang into action, his elbow flying into his chaperone’s throat with a sickening crunch. He then grabbed the axe and kicked Thorben towards the Duke.
Damn, that fucking hurt. Didn’t have to kick me so damned hard, Tanrin. Dick.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Thorben landed and saw as the second guard’s head bounced on the floor and rolled away from the falling body. Before Tanrin could do anything else, the Duke stood up, clapping. “Excellent work, Dwarf! Excellent work! Never let it be said that your Duke is a prejudiced man. I see talent wherever it lies. Those were two of my best warriors, and you proved yourself superior. You find yourself with a choice.”
As those words left the Duke’s mouth, he felt a chill in the air. The four guards near the duke were in a state of ease. Hand resting on his broadsword, the Lieutenant was monitoring the situation with eyes like a hawk. Luckily, he hadn’t attempted to draw it from his back yet. The heir hadn’t even flinched at the sight, but seemed to enjoy it and was still staring at the blood pooling on the cobblestone floor.
Thorben started to rise. There was something that they were missing. The room should be in chaos trying to protect the Duke. He had a sinking feeling that the situation was going from bad to worse. “Stay down, Private Thurti’s Ass,” the Duke said. Thorben’s jaw clenched, but he remained on the floor. He’s stealing my nickname gimmick. What an asshat!
“As I said, you find yourself with a choice. Join me, or die. If you should decide to join, you will be a member of my personal guard and have wealth and privileges you could only dream of now. My benefactor will see you handsomely rewarded. If you decide to die, I will draw it out for as long as possible. My benefactor will likewise ensure that it will last longer than you can imagine. So what will it be? Serve me as I improve my dungeon or die slowly in agony?”
Thorben knew his brother would improvise, he just had to be ready to do his part. He thought about summoning his Katana, but hoped that they could gather some more information. Who is this benefactor? What does he mean by grow his dungeon? He held his desire to launch into combat in check, for now at least.
“Your grace, I choose to…”
The Duke cut him off with a simple raising of his hand. “Often I find words to be insufficient. Actions, my dear dwarf. Actions are the lifeblood of oaths between men. Private Thurti’s Ass failed me. His head next to my former guards will tell me you want to live. Whereas, his head staying on his shoulders, albeit temporarily, will signal you choose death.” The Duke sank back down into his throne and twirled his hands as if to say, “get on with it.”
“Your telling me if I chop this asshole’s head off, the King will reward me? I’ve learned if a deal is too good to be true, then it usually is.” Tanrin quipped.
You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, Tanrin?
“Ah, a clever dwarf! Gathering intel before deciding is admirable. I see no harm in revealing a little. I said my benefactor would reward you. The so-called king is a temporary thorn in my side. I should clarify my benefactor will only reward you after you’ve proven yourself loyal.” The Duke said, waving a dismissive hand.
“I see. Am I really going to be on your personal guard? Or are you going to toss a pickaxe in my hand and force me to mine your dungeon expansion? Not all dwarfs enjoy mining, you know that, right? I kill things. I don’t mine.”
The Duke had a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He actually thought that there was a chance that Tanrin would join him. “Again you misunderstand. My benefactor has me preparing all of this as a dungeon. It is so much more grand than simply a prison. It is a wellspring of experience and power. He has prepared it to be a training center for all who serve him. You will grow in ways that you didn’t think possible. Time will clarify things, but for now, remove his head.” The Duke said, pointing to Thorben.
Thorben had enough. He lowered his hood and said, “I think not.” Lightning flashed behind his eyes. A soft whimper escaped from Cliff, as he attempted to make his body sink into the ground while quivering in fear.
“Father, it appears that your pet recognizes this… thing?…” the Duke’s son said, voice laced with petty disinterest.
“Shut your mouth, you stupid pile of shit.” Thorben said as he rose to his feet. “Cliff and I go way back, don’t we cliff? Did he, by chance, deliver my message? I may have mispronounced your grace’s name when I recited it to him.” Thorben tapped his foot as if in thought, “Ah yes, it was something along the lines of ‘Tell Duke McDipshit that his days are numbered.’ There was a really witty line about his fingers in there somewhere.”
The mood in the room changed instantly. The four guards in front marched forward.
“I take that as a yes,” Thorben said as his Katana effortlessly appeared in his hands.
“Dammit, Thorben, I hadn’t answered the man’s question yet! You’re developing a bad habit of making my decisions for me.” Tanrin said in mock outrage.
Thorben pointed his Katana’s blade down on the ground. “You’re absolutely right, little brother. I am sorry about that. You are growing up and I need to respect your life choices. I will work on it. Please tell Duke McDickless what you are going to do.”
“Ten damn months!” Tanrin exclaimed as he raised his hand and slowly extend his middle finger towards the Duke.
If looks could kill, then the Duke would have incinerated them on the spot. The guards had closed about half the distance. The Lieutenant drew his broadsword and advanced. It wasn’t until the Duke looked at his son and bellowed, “It’s time to prove to me you are worthy of being my heir, Connor, you worthless son of a whore!”
Connor stood up in annoyance, as if this was all an unnecessary distraction from his afternoon nap. “Fine, father, I will take care of this.” He pulled a wand from a holster on his waist, and chanted. The words were indistinguishable, but the intensity was building.
Shit, a wizard! Thorben needed to flip this situation on its head. His mother’s training kicked in. Eliminate or disable the ranged warriors, circle to prevent multiple attackers, force your attackers to funnel towards you, but don’t stop moving. The talking had gone on long enough. His mana had regenerated enough that he had three lightning arrows. He immediately sent one at Connor while circling toward the servant’s entrance. He desperately hoped his lightning arrow would be quick enough and was momentarily stunned as Connor brought his wand in front of him to intercept.
He recalled the yellow shield Aldwin had used to block two of his arrows, and cringed in anticipation of a repeat performance. Luckily, his arrow struck the wand, tearing it out of the wizard’s hand and ending his spell. The man hadn’t held a hammer or worked the forge for hours on end, and his muscles couldn’t combat the force of his lightning arrow. His luck didn’t run out there, as the wand flew straight back, embedding itself into Connor’s eye, and not stopping until it went through his brain and collided with the back of his skull. The wizard dropped like the last sack of coal when restocking supplies after a long day of working the forge. Well, fuck me sideways! It worked!
Thorben stepped forward and engaged with the first warrior to reach him. Tanrin, who was beside him, had done the same. These guards were almost on par with the Sergeant from earlier. Both brothers were engaged in ruthless combat that left no room for error. Time in combat is hard to keep straight. Sometimes it slows down and you can see every detail around you, and other times it’s as if you blink and minutes passed without your knowledge. Thorben felt it was the prior. Time seemed to slow. He could almost see his opponents’ moves before they did. A twitch in a muscle here, a sideways glance there, all were painting a picture of what was to come. He hadn’t relented on his active meditation but on inspiration instead of breathing out his anger. He funneled it into this feeling he had of time slowing.
With a click, the world seemed to slow further. He instinctually leaned back. His gaze followed the blade that narrowly missed his neck, and his own blade’s response as he slashed at the guard’s shoulder muscle. The successful strike and the guard’s sudden inability to hold his arm up was almost comical as Thorben followed up with a deep thrust under the opposite armpit as the man fell in slow motion to the ground. He could see the next guard trying to step around the dead guard’s body as if he was stuck on tar, and quickly decapitated him with a high stroke. The blood seemed to float in the air as he glided forward to finish the final guardsman with a well-placed lunge to his heart. Each guard seemed shocked that their armor hadn’t stopped his blade, not knowing that simple leather would have no effect on his legendary soul bound blade. To be honest, Thorben hadn’t known it prior to this.
He felt a drain on his energy and stopped focusing his rage into that odd feeling of time. As he did, he glanced over to see Tanrin finish his first guard. They turned towards the Lieutenant and entered back into their preferred combat stances. Now not outnumbered, the group of them felt a sense of confidence, and spread out a bit.
An icy voice emanated from Duke McGuire. “Lieutenant Malone” Lieutenant Malone turned as the Duke tossed him a glowing red light that seemed to appear from under the skin of his palm. The glowing ball sped through the air, and struck the Lieutenant in the chest. The Lieutenant’s muscles rippled as his size increased. His eyes turned solid red, and a sinister smile appeared on his face. “Come, children, let’s play,” Lieutenant Malone said in an eerily raspy voice. Duke McGuire sat back down on his throne to enjoy the show.