Warmth and softness enveloped Orin, sapping him of his will to get up. It was a novel feeling to the warrior. He must have lived a spartan lifestyle in his previous life. One that was unaccustomed to things like warm beds. His previous life. That was what he was calling the time before he lost his memories. He wanted to distance himself as much as possible from the person he had once been after his brush with the God of Death.
It was still dark, and his eyelids were heavy, but Orin resisted the urge to close them. His heart was thumping, and he recalled why he had woken up in the first place. His instincts were screaming that danger was close. He rose slowly and saw Rus crouched by the entrance with his bow in his hands. They were in his lair, a small cave in one of the cavern’s walls. Its entrance was obscured by shrubbery, and a tripwire was strung across the threshold. According to Rus, the greatest threat to his little sanctuary was other delvers.
Silently, Orin climbed out of bed and reached for his longsword. He would have preferred the greatsword, but swinging such a weapon in this confined space would prove difficult. He exchanged looks with Rus, knowing better than to speak and give their position away. Danger was close, but it hadn’t found them yet.
As he crept over to the opposite side of the entrance the hunter was crouched, his clothes brushed against his skin. Rus had found them in the manor’s basement, among other things, and Orin found them deeply uncomfortable. He deeply regretted allowing the hunter to convince him to not sleep in his armour.
“I told you I smelled ‘em,” a roughly accented voice said. “Good thing we came back, eh?”
“Yeah, yeah,” another voice said. “Let’s stick ‘em quick and get back to the others before the fun begins, eh?”
Orin shot Rus a look. Could these be delvers?
The hunter shook his head and held up two fingers, indicating there were two of them outside. Orin shrugged and got off his haunches. If there were more, the cave was a dead end, and they could be trapped inside all too easily. No reason not to take the fight out into the open now that they had been found.
Orin strode out into the forest and found a pair of green skins approaching the cave entrance. These were bigger than the ones he had slaughtered in the area over the chapel and the head of a dog was etched into the breastplates of their thick plate armour that had been painted black, but what surprised Orin most of all was that they were speaking a language he could understand.
“Looks like this one has a pair on ‘im, eh?” one of them remarked.
“Say, doesn’t he smell familiar?” the other asked as he strained his eyes against the dim light.
Deciding to capitalize on their moment of confusion, Orin charged the pair. As he did, an arrow flew from the cave entrance, bursting into flames as it struck one of the greenskins in the chest. As the creature plucked it out, its partner rushed forward to meet Orin.
The creature’s steel mace clashed with Orin’s longsword with such force that it bent his weapon slightly and sent a shooting pain through the his wrist. He gritted his teeth as he drew his weapon back and regretted not having his greatsword with him. By now, the creature’s partner was circling past Orin towards the cave. This one grunted in surprise as another arrow flew from the cave, striking him in the foot before into ice, freezing the creature to the ground.
Meanwhile, Orin’s foe let out a bloodcurdling roar before charging the warrior. With its bent blade, Orin’s longsword was now useless as a thrusting weapon, so he flipped it around to use as a makeshift club. He sidestepped the orc’s clumsy thrust and spun around to land a savage strike against the greenskin’s knee as it thundered past. The creature barked in surprise as it tumbled to the ground. As it attempted to pick itself up, Orin struck it in the back of its helmeted head, and the creature went limp.
Before Orin could deliver the finishing blow, the other greenskin tackled him from behind. The warrior thrashed and twisted violently as they grappled on the ground, realizing that he was at a distinct disadvantage without his weapon.
“Lord Garthan, stop!” the creature pleaded. “We didn’t know it was you.”
The name triggered recognition, and Orin stopped struggling. It felt as though he had finally recalled a word that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue. The pair slowly untangled themselves and eyed one another warily.
“How do you know that name?” he demanded.
The creature’s eyes widened in surprise. “We saw you… up in the castle. Five days ago now, it was.”
“Who was… am I?” Orin asked.
Before the creature could reply, an arrow struck it in its exposed throat and burst into flames, and it fell to the ground. Horrified, Orin rushed over to it.
“Tell me, who am I?” he demanded but it was useless. The creature was quickly drowning on its own blood while flames engulfed it. The warrior glanced over at its companion that had been set ablaze by more fire arrows.
Enraged, he whirled around to the cave entrance and roared. “What have you done?”
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When there was no answer, Orin began to storm over. After he had taken two steps, an arrow landed at his feet, freezing the ground around it.
“Explain yourself!” Orin shouted. “They knew who I am and were about to tell me!”
“The Black Dogs are the Dungeon Master’s personal guard,” Rus’ voice was stern and unwavering as he hid in the darkness of the cave. “If you are a lord of this dungeon, that makes us enemies.”
“I don’t remember who I was,” Orin said. “So, where does that leave us?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Rus shot back.
Orin thought it over for a moment before replying. “The truth is, the more I learn about the man I was, the less I like him. If you decide you can’t trust me anymore, we can part ways here without any hard feelings. All I ask is that you let me back inside to retrieve my belongings or bring them out for me and point me in the direction of the deeper levels.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the hunter said at length. “Since we’re both up anyway, why don’t we head for the gateway?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Orin agreed.
“So, what do I call you from now on?” Rus asked as he emerged from the cave.
“Orin,” the warrior replied. “I am not this Garthan fellow, whoever he was.”
The cavern had brightened considerably by the time Rus and Orin emerged onto a broad, stone paved road that began abruptly at the forest’s edge. Orin looked up and shook his head.
“It really is a gateway,” he remarked.
The gateway was a set of large, ornate wrought iron gates that had been thrown open. On the other side was a darkened tunnel.
“What did you think it was?” Rus snorted. “Are you ready?”
Orin smirked. Those were the first words they had exchanged since leaving Rus’ camp. “Since we’re talking again, how long have you had magic arrows for?”
The hunter gave Orin a look, and the warrior arched an eyebrow. “What? If this foe is as formidable as you say, it won’t hurt to know all our options?”
Rus shrugged and gestured at the two quivers at his hip. “Notice anything different?”
“Just spit it out,” Orin snapped.
“I found them in the basement while you were working out your anger issues,” Rus said. “I call them Fire and Ice and they conjure arrows with the corresponding effects.”
“Quite the find,” Orin remarked. “Did you find anything else?”
The hunter shrugged again. “Nothing you would be interested in. Shall we?”
Orin nodded and stepped forward. He had only walked five paces when someone shouted from the trees behind them. “Wait!”
Orin whirled around and drew his greatsword as three figures emerged from the undergrowth. Two were men, clad in boiled leather cuirasses. One was armed with a spear and the other carried a short sword and a buckler. The third member of their group was a woman who wore a chainmail shirt and clutched a staff. All three of them looked young and battered.
“Delvers,” Rus breathed. “Stay your hand.”
“Hail,” the hunter then called to the trio. “What business have you here?”
“There is a great beast beyond those gates,” the one with the buckler gasped. “To face it means certain death.”
“Twenty of us banded together in an attempt to defeat it days ago,” the one armed with a spear added. “We three are all that remain.”
“Well, fear not, I’ll get vengeance for your friends,” Orin said wearily. “Your sign that it is safe to go in will be me coming out, covered in the creature’s blood.”
“Now hold on,” Rus said and pointed at the woman. “You, you’re a cleric, I take it?”
The young woman held up a silver dove that hung from a chain around her neck and nodded.
“She could be useful,” Rus remarked.
“And the others?” Orin ventured.
The hunter shrugged. “They don’t look like much.”
“Neither do you,” the words left Orin’s mouth before he could stop himself and he regretted them deeply when he saw the flash of irritation on the hunter’s face.
“Well, maybe they’ll be useful as distractions,” Rus growled. “That is if they want to come.”
Orin nodded and turned to the woman. “Could you come with us? My friend…”
“Associate,” Rus corrected him.
“My associate seems to think you can help.”
The woman shrank back in fear, and the two men stepped forward and placed themselves between her and Orin.
“She doesn’t want to come,” Orin said as he turned towards the gate. “I will go alone.”
“No,” the woman said. Her voice was small and frail, but as clear as a bell. “I will go with you.”
“Are you sure?” the one with a shield gasped.
“We barely escaped with our lives the last time!” the other exclaimed.
“I will go,” she repeated, more determined this time. “That thing slaughtered our friends. I will not stand idly by while another goes to take revenge on our behalf.”
“The woman’s made her decision,” Rus said, observing the two men with an amused smile on his lips. “The two of you are knights?”
“Squires,” the one with a buckler said hotly. “And I know your type, you’re a filthy poacher!”
“If you’re squires, I take it your masters got butchered by that thing?” Rus ventured. An evil smile crossed his lips when the two young men began to squirm.
“They ordered us to take the lady to safety!” the one with a shield protested at length.
“And now she is going back into the breach,” Rus pointed out. “Are you going to stand aside and let her go alone?”
The pair glared at Rus but were unable to retort. At length, the one with a shield’s shoulders sagged. “He’s right. If we stand idly by here and manage to eventually escape this wretched place, how will we ever face our family and friends again?”
The one with a spear scowled for a moment before sighing. “You speak rightly. I shall go as well.”
“Might I ask for your names?” the woman asked as she hurried after Rus and Orin.
“No names,” the hunter said sharply. “At least not yet. Not until we know the measure of one another. I will address you as Cleric, Shield, and Spear.”
“How dare you speak to her in that manner!” Spear cried, breaking into a run to catch up with the two men.
“No, he’s right,” the woman said. “Besides, rank has no meaning down here. If they get us to the surface, we should treat them as heroes.”
Orin passed through the gates and found it strange that he felt none of the usual excitement from an impending battle. Then, a shiver ran down his spine. It was as though something was exuding a foreboding aura further down the tunnel.
“There it is,” Rus hissed.
Standing in the middle of the tunnel, at the foot of a broad stairs was a horned, red skinned creature that stood over twice Orin’s height. It possessed leathery wings, and a cruel scar ran across its face. Its eyes were as black as coals and locked onto Orin’s as it leaned on a large sword that stood almost as tall as Orin and was as wide as Rus’ waist.
Then, Orin realized the tunnel around the creature was strewn with bodies. Most looked like they had been torn apart by an explosion.
“Lord Garthan,” it rumbled. The word ‘lord’ was said in a mocking tone. “I have been waiting for you.”
Behind him, Orin heard a bow strain and wondered if the arrow was pointed at him, or at the creature. It scarcely mattered now.