Chapter 31: A Mysterious Meeting Place

Alcar huddled low, placing one hand down over Brutus’s ears to keep the dog calm, and the other on his staff. He didn’t fancy his chances against either these characters – never mind both. They could easily be skilled warriors for all he knew. But somehow, the sturdy weapon provided at least a little bit of reassurance, as did the dagger at his hip.

Pulling back a fraction, Alcar listened to the conversation; each of the sinister pair spoke with distinctive voices, and were clear enough to make out from such as short distance.

“We have to make sure that any trouble lands at the door of Clan Ironrock,” growled the dark-haired dwarf. “Let Tajfel and his people take the blame.”

“Right,” hissed the orc. “That way, you win, regardless of the outcome.”

“Exactly.”

The sinister pair sniggered, and as Alcar moved forward a fraction to peek around again, he saw them clink their mugs together and drink deeply.

“And what of your people?” asked the dwarf.

“We want chaos in the city, and that should suit you as well. We are a very hungry people.” With this, the orc grinned, showing sharpened front teeth.

The dwarf made a face. “Just stay away from our dwellings, and that won’t be a problem.”

At this, the orc made a low guttural noise in his throat. “Achhh... plenty of humans to eat instead.”

Clasping his hands, the dwarf now leaned forward, placing his mug down by the side of his chair. “Well and good. There are too many of the damn humans anyway, and elves, even worse. But just make sure we don’t forget the purpose. The princess has to be the target.”

“Achhh... Right.”

“With von Dathmir captured and taken away...” said the dwarf. But then he stopped and looked down. “Wait – where did that dog come from?”

Alcar cursed silently as he realized that Brutus had moved away from his side. He pulled further around the corner and looked down, seeing that the dog had begun lapping cheerfully at the dwarf’s mug of ale.

“Scat, hound!” cried the dwarf, leaping to his feet.

“Achhh... more food,” sneered the orc, pulling out a dagger.

Perhaps sensing the danger, Brutus pulled away from the ale, and now leaped towards the square table, on which Alcar could now see that there were two plates with leftover food. Scraps of cheese and crusts of bread remained on both – but not for long.

“Kill it!” yelled the orc, advancing towards Brutus, the dwarf at his side.

“Never!” shouted Alcar. In an instant, he ran up behind the pair and raised his staff in his hands, then brought it down hard on both of their heads. But he misjudged their mismatched heights; the orc was hit hard by the blow and stumbled towards the fire, groaning, but the blow barely struck the dwarf, who now began to pull his own weapon.

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However, Brutus was on the move again. He leaped onto the dwarf, knocking the conspirator from his feet. The dwarf crashed back onto the stone floor, hitting his head with a sickening thump, and lay still.

The orc was getting to his feet by this point, and Alcar turned and brought his staff around again, holding one end in both hands and thwacking the evil creature on the side of the head with the other. With a strangled yelp, the orc crashed back into the chair where he had previously been sitting, twitching.

Alcar had now noticed that there were two further passageways out of the room, one on either side of the fire, and he didn’t hesitate. Taking the left-hand branch – which was further away from the groaning orc – he sprinted away, calling after him, “Brutus! This way, boy!”

He didn’t have far to go before Brutus raced past him at his feet. The passageway they were on was wide and straight, and lit periodically with torches in sconces, and he sprinted on for half a minute. Before long, the passage opened out into a much larger room, also will lit... and one that was busy with many more people of all races – dwarves, orcs, half-orcs, and even lizardfolk.

Alcar slowed his pace slightly as he entered the great chamber. He could hear footsteps behind, but he was fairly sure that the orc who he had fought had been at least somewhat stunned by his two strikes – and that the dwarf, though probably still alive, wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. He therefore decided that it was best to approach the strangers at a fast walk rather than running; the latter would rightly make him look like he was escaping a crime scene.

The large area onto which he had emerged onto was like nothing Alcar had ever seen before, and he could barely believe that it existed within the bounds of Katresburg city. It was a cavern, but its walls were straight, tall and even, as if it had been skilfully carved from the bedrock. Two sets of enormous black pillars ran up the length of the room, which was around twice as long as it was wide. The whole place was many times larger than any chamber that Alcar could remember ever being in. It was at least six or eight times as large as the taproom of the Black Mackerel. It appeared to be some kind of meeting place, and he rapidly figured out that there were many conversations and trades going on – some of which involved the sale of meat, or animals, or even goblins in chains.

“What the...” he muttered, looking every which way for Brutus. Then he spotted him. The big dog was at the far side of the room, sitting alert and upright and alert – and apparently unharmed. But there were two blue-scaled lizardfolk was well as two half orcs surrounding him. The former had daggers drawn.

Alcar hurried over. “Greetings, good folk. I hope my dog isn’t bothering you. He is an intelligent animal, and a trained killer, so I should probably take him away now.”

“No, no,” said one of the half-orcs in a booming, rumbling voice. “That must be one of Angel’s creatures. He gathers human pets from the surface and brings them here for meat.”

“I assure you, on my honor, he is not,” snapped Alcar, glancing nervously back the way he had come, and edging around in an effort to make sure that at least one of the small gathering of sinister strangers was positioned in -between himself and the passageway from which he had come.

“Leave the human be,” snarled one of the lizardmen – an exceptionally tall individual – raising his dagger towards the half-orc. “You are changing the subject. Our business is not yet concluded.”

“Talking shit,” snarled the half orc, and then spat.

“Whatever business is,” said Alcar, taking hold of Brutus’s collar and edging further away towards a passage in the opposite side of the cavern, “I’ll leave you to it, and be on my way. I have somewhere I need to be.”

He began walking towards that entrance, glancing around him as he went. But almost immediately, he realized that all four of them were staring at him, and he paused. “What is it?”

“You’re going towards our home,” said the second lizard warrior, in a higher, rasping voice than the first. “That is the passageway that leads to the Great Swamp.”

“Uh, right,” said Alcar. “You see, I’m a big fan of that place. Yep! Got an old friend that works a farm in that neck of the woods. See you around, perhaps.”

“If he goes down their tunnel, then he has chosen a side,” said the rumbling half orc. And now he, too, drew a weapon.