The Sword of Retribution

The Underworld - Part 7

     Like Shaun and Matthew, the Underworlders recognised that body protection against enemy weapons was a more important consideration than personal comfort and Thomas could see the sweat literally dripping from their faces and hands as they gripped the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them in an instant. All that sweating would dehydrate them very quickly if the water wasn't replaced, and each of the Underworld soldiers had a water bottle hanging from his belt from which one of them was taking a long drink. Watching him made Shaun suddenly feel thirsty and he reached for his own water bottle, but it only had a tiny mouthful left in the bottom which only accentuated his thirst as he gulped it down. He felt as if he could have drained a whole bottle in one go.

     “Who aar ye?” demanded one of the soldiers whose uniform was slightly different from those of the others, marking him as being higher in rank, probably the equivalent of a Corporal. “Whaddya doin’ ere? What d’ye waant?”

     “We’re from the surface,” replied Shaun, pointing upwards, “and we’re looking for a priest of Samnos, also from the surface. Do you know where we can find him?”

     Excited, confused gossip broke out among the Underworld civilians, until the Corporal quieted them down. “From the surface, ye saay?” he said sceptically. “D’ye expect us ta believe thaat? D’ye think we’re such simple minded fools that we’d fall fer a tall story loike thaat?”

     “It’s true,” protested Thomas. “Believe us.”

     “Thar be no such plaace,” stated the Corporal flatly. “The surface be just an auld legend, a bairn’s tale. Now tell us whar ye be really from afore oi gives ye a taste o’ me steel.”

     “Maybe they be telling the truth,” pointed out another of the soldiers. “Look at ‘em, Tolba. They be just as the auld legends say the folk above be. Their hands an’ faces baked brown loike the crust of a loaf by the light that cooks wi’out heat. An besoides, that priest said ee were from the World Above, so if thar be no such place, ee must a’ been lying.”

     “You know the priest from the surface?” asked Shaun excitedly.

     The Corporal was speaking, though, and ignored him. “They could be in disgoise,” he said. “They coulda stained their skins wi’ the juice o’ the joppa bush."

     “They be spois!” shouted one of the farmers, waving a wicked looking hoe. “The Llanoks sent ‘em!”

     "Yes, that's right," said Thomas with a tired sigh. "We're spies. That's the reason for our cunning disguises, allowing us to move among you without being noticed."

     Tolba stared at him, his eyes narrowing. Sarcasm seemed to be a foreign concept to them.

     "What I mean is," added the wizard, "if we were spies, wouldn't we have tried to make ourselves look like you?"

     "We came openly, so you would know that we came in peace," said Diana, stepping forward. One of the farmers pointed a pitchfork at her and Shaun stepped protectively in front of her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. That in turn brought a reaction from the Underworld soldiers, who advanced menacingly, and the cleric shouldered her way past her brother to try to talk sense.

     "Don't make any menacing move," she hissed. "We didn't come here to start a fight."

     “Kill ‘em!" cried a farmer, brandishing a long knife. "Kill ‘em now!”

     They closed in menacingly, reaching out with hard calloused hands to grab and hold them, but Jerry managed to slip away and turned to face them. “We can prove we’re from the surface,” he called out in his squeaky, high pitched voice, reaching into a pocket to pull out a bit of fleece. “Behold!”