Grim-faced, Jorir drove the butt of his axe into the solar plexus of the man he had just disarmed. He fell to the ground and did not get up.
From the corner of his eye, Einarr saw one of the black-blooded dvergr coming up on Gheldram from behind. He lunged and embedded Sinmora in its chest. That didn’t drop it, but it did give Gheldram the time he needed to face his new attacker.
Meanwhile, Kaldr had slid in behind where Einarr had been, in order to deftly drop another. His blade flickered, and the corrupted dvergr fell neatly into three pieces.
Einarr turned his attention back to the fight, only to discover that the pursuers had all been dealt with. He nodded to himself, watching as the others also took stock of their situation. Brandir holstered his axe. None of them were soaked in the blood, like the Vidofnings had been when they first fought the abominations, but at the same time they were all splattered with it.
Einarr shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable – but not, thankfully, feeling sick to his stomach. “Is there anywhere we can bathe around here? The hotter, the better.”
The leader of the dvergr nodded, his gaze locked on a dark patch of mud on the ground in front of him. “This way. I only hope it’s as empty as I expect.”
----------------------------------------
Three hours later, they soaked in the near-scalding water of what (from the smell) must have been a volcanic hot spring. Einarr was shocked to learn that, during the day, this was actually a fairly popular bath – but, then again, these were dvergr lands.
As a bonus, Mornik was on friendly terms with the proprietor, so the loft of the building would provide a convenient place to hide – at least while they decided what to do. That was where they had stowed their belongings while they took advantage of the sulfurous water. Einarr had already turned a remarkable shade of pink, and several of the others were in much the same state.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” Mornik was saying. “That your Lady appears unharmed. Most displeased, and caged like an animal, but unharmed.”
“So far,” Brandir muttered darkly. Einarr couldn’t help but agree.
“But where is she?” Einarr tried not to snap. Now was not the time for rushing headlong into things, but it was still difficult. “And… was she alone?”
Mornik cleared his throat. “Alone? Well, save for the acolytes. But, well, that’s the thing. And the reason I got caught.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Well, go on,” Jorir grumbled.
“She’s in the Mount.”
Einarr shared a confused look with Kaldr and the other humans. The dvergr, though, went pale to a man.
“What does that mean?” Thjofgrir ventured to ask.
Jorir stared at the surface of the water, not evidently seeing it, and his voice was quiet. “That’s their stronghold.”
“Whose stronghold?” It was Naudrek pumping for information this time.
“The thrice-damned cult’s,” Brandir said, his voice stronger than Jorir’s but just as troubled. “If she’s there, they must have plans for her. She might not even be human when she comes out.”
Einarr dropped his head in his hands and groaned. The spring water was uncomfortably warm on his face, but it hardly registered. “It’s the svartalfr cave all over again.”
Jorir sighed. “Looks like it.”
Kaldr cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, but as bad as I’ve heard that was, this may be worse. Didn’t you tell me yourself, Jorir, that their magic is a twisted thing? What about–”
“The babe!” Einarr sat back up abruptly with a swish, wet red hair flinging droplets behind him.
All four dvergr roared at once, “The what?”
“Are ye insane?” Jorir added.
“We didn’t know, when we left. We didn’t figure it out until after it was too late to turn back.”
“I don’t know what their foul magics might do to a babe, but I’d rather not find out.” Mornik shuddered, his voice grim. “But the only way we’re getting anything out of there is if we take the whole place, and I don’t think we’re ready.”
Einarr perked up his ears. “Ready?”
“No. No, we’re not – quite.” Brandir agreed. “But… you are the Cursebreaker? You have proof of this?”
“Aye,” Jorir and Kaldr answered together.
“The Oracle herself named him,” Jorir answered. “Even without her signs, that would have been enough for me.”
Kaldr continued. “He destroyed the black weaving laid upon our home for twenty years – and that is only the most recent of his exploits.”
“Good enough. And he’s plainly fought against the cult before: all to the good. Give me two days and I can have the final pieces in place.”
“Two days?” Einarr felt his spirits falling as quickly as they had risen. “Anything could happen in two days. I don’t even know how long we’ve been down here.”
“I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. If we are to have any hope of escaping the Mount alive, there are friends to rouse. We will not take the Mount unless the dvergr reclaim the Hall.”
“Einarr’s right, though,” Jorir rumbled. “We cannae just let the Lady Runa languish in one of Malúnion’s cages. Especially not if she’s with child.”
“It’s the Mount. It’s only gotten more impregnable since you left, Jorir: I’m not sure there’s anything we can do until everything is in place.”
“Messengers walk, rumors fly. But, fine. What if Lord Einarr and I went to investigate on our own?”
“Are ye mad?” This was Mornik, as he decided he’d had enough and stepped out of the water and into a towel. “Just earlier, when we had to fight that posse of theirs? That’s because I wasn't light enough on my feet – and you’re twice as heavy. Not to mention you’d be hampering yourself with a human along”
“I hardly think I’d be a hindrance in an investigation like this,” Einarr bristled.
He shook his head. “You’re too tall. I don’t care how sneaky you are, when you stand a full chest higher than anyone else on the street you’re going to stand out.”
“…Oh.”
“ ‘Oh’ is right. Now stop talking nonsense and we can get down to business.”