Chapter 17: Time for a Sharp Exit

Alcar put the flat of his left hand on the door of the house, and pushed. Nothing happened. There was a resistance, and he began to feel around, making out the rectangular opening despite the near-total blackness. There – there was an edge... and another... and now a handle.

Yes.

He turned the handle, and gently pushed the door with his shoulder, stepping inside, then winced as the floorboard immediately inside creaked. He scurried forward, and then crouched down, half-expecting to be grabbed by a guard – or worse. The dagger was in his hand, and every one of his senses and nerves was screaming, his entire body on maximum alert.

But so far, nothing. Not a footstep, not a voice, and no sign of a guard.

Alcar remained in a crouching position for a minute or more, silently wondering whether dwarves could see better in the dark than he could, and feeling almost certain that they could. All the same, his eyes had begun to adjust to the gloom, and he was able to make out several doorways ahead and to the left, as well as a flight of stone stairs leading upwards. He could also make out voices from above – the area of the building where he had seen lights on. That must be where the kidnappers were.

Alcar willed himself on. A large part of himself was resisting the dangers that lay ahead. But after hesitating for half a minute or more, he put one foot on the first stair, and then another.

Mercifully, the stairs, being made of solid stone, did not creak at all, but Alcar became aware of his boots flapping around as he took one step up after another, despite his efforts to be stealthy. Still, though, nobody had challenged him.

As he went, he could see more and more of the higher level. There were three doorways meeting the top landing of the house, two to the left and one to the right. The area also had several chairs, and there was a dwarf with an exceptionally neatly-groomed beard sitting in one of those. A guard? Certainly the individual had a crossbow close at hand, the weapon resting on an adjascent chair. But rather than looking down towards the stairs where Alcar was approaching, the dwarf was looking into one of the rooms to the left, gripped by whatever he was watching.

And then another scream rang out.

Pausing, Alcar looked down at the dagger in his hand. If it came to saving Maluhk, perhaps it would be right for him to thrust the weapon into the dwarven guard’s back, killing him before he could raise the alarm? It might be the lesser of two evils. On the other hand, he asked himself, wasn’t that, like, murder?

He took another step up, and then another, covering the last few stairs and stepping up onto the landing. Now he hurried towards the dwarf, raising the hilt of the dagger above his head. Bash it down on the guy – that’s what he needed to do, Alcar told himself. Knock the dwarf out, just as Lox’aar had done to Golgrasanna.

He took another step forward; he was only a yard away from the guard now. But at this last step, his trailing foot clanged on one of the unoccupied chairs – the one with the crossbow. As the guard swung round in alarm and started to rise, the loaded bow dropped to the ground and went off, the bolt firing forward and hitting the guard in the lower leg. He screamed, and began hopping around the room, one arm clutching his injured leg, and the other flailing in the air.

Throwing stealth to the wind, Alcar charged past, shoving the dwarf and sending him sprawling towards the far side of the landing. He then barrelled through into the room from where he had heard the screams. After what he had heard, Alcar expected to see the pair of blond dwarves torturing the master sorcerer with all kinds of vile apparatus. But what he actually saw was very different indeed.

“Altimar?”

Maluhk was sitting on a comfortable chair, restrained with ropes around his legs and waist, but unharmed. He had a small table on either side of him; one of those contained the remains of a large meal together with a half-drunk flagon of ale. To the other side were several bowls of snacks: nuts, pretzels, popcorn.

Ahead of the sorcerer, and in both his direct line of sight and that of the dwarven guard from where he had been sitting on the landing, was a stage of sorts. Four halflings were dressed in absurd outfits, three with masks which made them look like pigs, and the fourth dressed head to toe as a wolf.

“It’s Alcar, for fuck’s sake! And I’m here to save you, master,” said Alcar, stooping to slash at the bonds that attached the half-orc sorcerer to the chair.

“Kid, you’re interrupting the show. And what did you do to young Xavier Stoneseeker?”

As his name was spoken, the dwarven guard had now regained his feet; he hopped into the room, rage written across his face. Pausing at the doorway, he pointed one bloody hand towards Alcar, and yelled, “Intruder! Halflings, seize him!”

The three pigs and the wolf now charged towards Alcar. So absurd were their outfits that he didn’t feel he had any choice but to sheath his dagger and defend himself using only his fists. He punched the first pig full in the face, knocking it backwards by several feet. The wolf grabbed him around the neck, but Alcar managed to stay on his feet, and then kicked out hard, hitting the next pig with a crunching blow between the legs. The poor creature squealed in agony – very much the same sound that Alcar had heard before, he now realized – and crumpled at his feet.

By the time the third pig had come closer and aimed its own punch, Alcar had managed to loosen the wolf’s grip on his throat, and he ducked down, wriggling out of the embrace. As such, the third pig accidentally struck the wolf on the snout. The wolf grappled the pig, and the two of them dropped to the ground, wrestling and biting at each other.

“Stop right there,” said the dwarf at the door – Xavier, Alcar presumed. The dwarf had now regained his crossbow, although he was struggling to load it while simultaneously hopping on one leg, agony written across his face.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” signed Maluhk, standing and moving to Alcar’s side. “I suppose I should thank you for your tenacity. The thing is, I had everything in hand. I had the fucking dwarves right where I wanted them. Playing them off against each other, you see. But, ah, well... I suppose further improvisation is necessary, now.” The sorcerer proceeded to make a hand gesture and wiggle of the fingers of both hands, and a large glowing object appeared above Xavier’s head – like a brick, but five times the size. Xavier looked up just in time to see the object fall hard towards his head.

“Oof...” the dwarf murmured as he collapsed to the ground, dropping the crossbow again, and closed his eyes.

Maluhk took a final slurp from the tankard of ale that had been beside him, and then strode forward and gave Xavier a prod with his toe. “He’ll be all right,” said the sorcerer. “He wasn’t a terribly bad guard, you know. His cooking is first rate, for a dwarf. Now, about the players...” Maluhk wiggled his hands again, and the pigs and wolf – who were starting to gather for another attack on Alcar – found themselves charging through a cloud of thick sparkling dust. All four stopped, clawing at their eyes and yelling.

“Time for a sharp exit,” said Maluhk.