It hadn’t taken that long to skin the Orc, Relan thought, not really. It just felt like forever because he had wanted to throw up. Relan had skinned things before, sure. Deer, squirrel, pig. But never a person. Orcs weren’t people. They were monsters, but they had faces that were just too human.

Boltac shook his head and turned away while Rattick worked his sharp knife with little tugs and jerks. “You really think this is going to work?” asked Boltac. “What’s your plan, scare them to death?”

“Scare, no,” said Rattick, “distract and confuse.”

“With a pinch of disgust thrown in for good measure, no doubt,” added Boltac.

“Ah, there it is.” Rattick held up the skin and scalp of the dead Orc, complete with ears. He had fitted the creature’s faceleather to his hand and held up the dismal beast’s countenance, as if it were a puppet. “Looks like you,” Rattick said to Relan. Then he darted his hand towards Relan’s face and made him jump. The ragged cackle that followed was the first time Relan had heard the evil little man laugh.

“I don’t trust him,” Relan said to Boltac.

“I don’t trust him either. I employ him,” said Boltac.

Rattick donned the orc’s crude harness and then slipped the creature’s face and ears over his own.

“Wait a minute? Where did Rattick go? He was here just a minute ago,” said Boltac. “Seriously, that’s a disguise?”

“This is a distraction.”

“Where are our disguises?” asked Relan.

“They’re never going to see you.”

“I’m not much on sneaking around like a coward,” said Relan.

“Oh, you won’t be sneaking. You don’t have the talent. They’ll just be looking elsewhere.”

“What?”

“C’mon kid, I think I know what he means. Rattick, get us out of this maze before the Orc starts to rot.”

Rattick bowed low, “Your humble employee lives to be of service.”

* * *

They retraced their steps to the main tunnel. If anything, there were more Orcs than before.

“Horrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, horrrrrrrrr,” the Orcs wheezed as their powerful legs pushed against the crudely paved surface of the tunnel. Slowly, slowly the wagons climbed from the depths.

“Merchant,” asked Rattick, “do you have any oil in that remarkable sack of yours?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“En-henh, just a minute.” Boltac rummaged through his bottomless sack.

“There are so many of them,” said Relan.

“So many shadows in the darkness, and what will three more be?”

“Is that from a saga? It sounds like it’s from one of the sagas,” asked Relan.

“No lad,” said Rattick from the darkness, “it’s not from a song of Heroes, but from a song of the other kind.”

“There we go,” said Boltac as he pulled a large flagon of oil from the depths of his magic sack.

Rattick took the flagon and said to Relan, “Heroes aren’t the only ones who perform deeds worth singing about, youngling. Watch and learn.”

Rattick wrapped himself in the Orc’s skin and donned his cloak of darkness, seeming to disappear before their very eyes. A shadow moving through shadows, he stepped into the flow of traffic. He was a blackness with pointed ears, nothing more. For a moment, he was in step with the wagons going up, and then he stepped into the lee of one of the great pillars that kept the ceiling from collapsing.

If Relan hadn’t known better, he would have thought this was just another Orc resting on the long climb to the surface. And if he hadn’t known better he would have thought that this ordinary Orc was relieving himself on the pillar? Rattick held the oil flagon at his crotch and poured it out onto the passage floor.

“Uh, is he..?”

“Clever, I’ll give him that.”

“In front of everybody?” asked Relan.

“Hidden in plain sight. Our friend is very, very sneaky. No wonder he’s stayed alive so long.”

“He’s not my friend,” said Relan.

As one wagon neared the pillar, Orc-Rattick appeared to finish his business, looking like just another Orc in the darkness.

The next wagon was pulled by six Orcs, yoked together in teams of two. As the pair closest to the wagon drew abreast of the pillar, something happened to one of the Orcs. It barked out in pain and dropped in its traces. The other Orcs immediately bellowed in rage, as the “driver” lashed out with the whip indiscriminately. The cavern was filled with such a roaring and commotion, Relan couldn’t hear himself think. Even though Relan was looking for Rattick, he almost missed the sneak-thief’s next move.

A ripple of darker darkness came across the floor, underneath the reins of the wagon. It was Rattick, rolling with noiseless precision. There was a small, silver flash in the murk and another Orc collapsed, clutching a wounded leg. The roars of protest turned to howls of fear as the wagon slipped backwards. The driver whipped and whipped, but it was a disaster in slow-motion, the oil making it impossible for the remaining Orcs to keep their footing.

The driver was on to Rattick. He saw a figure that was not quite Orc, crouching motionless on the floor. Relan tensed to flee. But as the driver cried, “HOARRRRRRRK!” and raised his whip, Rattick uncoiled from the floor. He grabbed a torch from the holder on the front of the wagon and shoved it in the driver’s face. As the Orc screamed in agony, Rattick continued the motion, lofting the torch into the river of oil he had poured onto the floor. As it erupted in flame, Relan could see Rattick rolling towards them across the floor.

Flames engulfed the wagon team. The overloaded wagon slid backwards, crushed the Orcs behind it, and slammed into the next wagon. A terrible cry went up as the entire train of carts broke loose and crashed into the depths, one after another.

The flames died down quickly leaving Relan barely able to see in the darkness. He was only aware of the sounds of agony and the smell of burning flesh. “It’s horrible,” Relan said.

“That guy is worth every penny,” said Boltac.

“NOW!” Rattick hissed, appearing between them as if from nowhere. He thrust both of them across the passage and into the mass of confused Orcs. Some were trying to flee the flames. Others were rushing to help their fallen comrades. They were everywhere, pressing on all sides of them.

“Keep moving,” Rattick hissed.

Relan was nearly overpowered by their oppressive, musky scent. He wondered if this was what a lathered horse must smell like in hell. If any one of the Orcs in the passage had looked closer they would have recognized them for the human interlopers they were. But, in the confusion, the Orcs did not see them. The three were across the passage and safely away into the darkness. Relan felt like laughing. They had gotten away with it!