The Sword of Retribution

Haldorn - Part 6

     Shaun handed Thomas a length of rope, and the wizard rolled an outlaw onto his front, pulled his arms behind his back and tied them as securely as he could, wondering whether or not to tell the others that Haldorn had a mandatory death sentence for outlaws. These poor wretches had several weeks in a suffocatingly hot, rat infested dungeon to look forward to while their cases were heard by the Haldornian judiciary, following which they would be disembowelled in public. Given the choice, they would probably have preferred to have their throats cut quickly and mercifully in their sleep. After some consideration, though, he decided to say nothing. He was extremely fond of the cleric and would never do a thing to hurt her if he could possibly help it. This was one of those occasions where ignorance was bliss.

     Shaun then gathered up the outlaws’ steel weapons, which were much too valuable to just leave lying around, and tied them together into an easy to carry bundle.

     “Hey, our horses have run off!” cried Jerry suddenly. “All the noise must have frightened them off!”

     “Doesn’t matter,” replied Matthew. “All the outlaws’ horses are still here, we can use them.”

     “Yes, but all our equipment was on them,” pointed out the tiny nome. “All our pot holing equipment, our food, spare clothes. Everything!”

     “They probably haven’t gone far,” replied Matthew. “We’ll probably find them a few hundred yards away, grazing happily on a patch of grass. Come on, let’s go look for them.”

     Matthew, Jerry and the two trogs set out in different directions to look for their horses, but still hadn’t found them after an hour’s searching. “You know what they’ve gone and done, don’t you?” said the young soldier in frustration. “They’ve gone all the way back to the palace, taking all our stuff with them. Everything!”

     “Not quite everything,” pointed out Thomas. “I kept most of my stuff in my backpack. I sort of felt it was safer that way. I’ve got a red light glowbottle, the white light glowbottle, the bottle of magic and all the stuff I normally carry there. What about you, Jerry? Have you still got your spellbook?”

     “Yes, thank the Gods. Like you, I feel safer carrying it on my person.”

     “Me too,” added Lirenna.

     “Well, that’s something at least,” said Shaun. “We’re going to need more than that if we’re going to go ahead with this mission, though. We’ve got a choice. We can either go back to the palace and see if they’ll let us have our stuff back, or we can go on and try to buy some more equipment and supplies at the next town we come to. What do you think?”

     “If we go back, we lose four days at least,” said Angus. “I say we go on. I expect these fellows here...” he waved a hand at the bound outlaws, who glared back at him, “have plenty of the local currency on them, enough to buy us just about anything we want.”

     “They’re not likely to have specialist pot holing equipment for sale, though, are they?” pointed out Shaun.

     “You do not need pot holing equipment,” said the slaver, coming over to rejoin them. “The tunnels we will be using have been used by various subterranean races for tens of thousands of years. Where they were narrow, they have been widened. Where the floor was rough and uneven, it has been smoothed and leveled. Where the going was too steep, alternate tunnels have been dug, or stairs built. There is nowhere between here and the Underworld where you cannot walk as easily as you do on the surface. Besides, regardless of what you decide, I am going on. I will not spend one moment longer on the surface than is absolutely necessary.”