“Hello, Gus,” she said, frowning down at him. “What do you want this time?”
He wanted to throw himself into her arms and beg forgiveness, but instead he mustered all of his noble character and spoke to her.
“Mean dwarf prince comes to hurt prisoner. I sorry for before and try help. They locked up now, but they still want to come here and hurt him, us. We gotta get prisoner out of there, or else… or else…” He sniffled loudly and wiped away a tear.
To his immense relief, Gretchan did lean down and pat him on the shoulder. “Thank you for coming,” she said, all very matter-of-fact, as though she had known he was coming and what he would say. “That was very brave. Now what do you mean, ‘locked up’?”
“Here, let me show,” he said, tugging her hand, pulling her out of the garrison room and into the corridor. “Wait here,” he whispered as they came closer to the place. “You listen.”
He strolled forward around the last corner and was immediately spotted by the big dwarf captain, who was down on his knees, grunting as he tried to budge the cage.
“You! Gully dwarf! Come here, damn your eyes! Turn that lever and pull this gate up, or so help me Reorx-”
Gus didn’t wait to hear more. He raced back around the corner and was surprised to see that Gretchan was laughing. At first he was insulted, but then his chest swelled with pride as she clapped him on the back and whispered, “Well done!”
Then she frowned. “But you’re right. We have to get Brandon out of here before they’re freed, or they’ll… I don’t know what they’ll do, but I don’t want to find out. We’d better hurry. Others will be coming down to see what happened to them.”
With Gus and Kondike racing along behind her, she hurried to the cell where the dwarf was imprisoned. Pressing her face to the grate, she called to him. Immediately he appeared.
“Trouble,” she said. “No time to explain, but we’ve got to get you out of here now.”
“I’m all in favor of that,” Brandon replied. “But how? Did you bring a key?”
She shook her head. Pulling her little silver hammer from her belt, she warned the dwarf: “Stand back.”
“Why?” Brandon asked incredulously, giving a slight chuckle. “In case the hammer breaks and a piece goes flying?”
“Suit yourself,” Gretchan replied. She hoisted the little tool, which had a head shaped much like the anvil on her staff, and swung it lightly against the latch on the cell door.
The explosion was so deafening, Gus covered his ears. Wood splintered and iron screeched as the portal was blown off its hinges, the bulk of the heavy door sent flying back into the cell, where it knocked Brandon onto the floor. The heavy wooden beams forming the door were shattered, and the lock itself had shattered into a hundred metal shards.
“How did you do that?” gasped Brandon, sitting up in astonishment and pushing the wreckage of the door off himself. Aside from some nicks and bruises, he looked only a little worse for wear. “It looked like you only tapped it!”
“Looks can be deceiving,” she replied slyly. “Now do you want to have a long conversation, or do you want to get out of there.”
“Get out!” Brandon replied, shucking away the broken beams and pushing himself up. He glared at her. “But you could have warned me.”
“I tried,” said Gretchan, grinning.
The big mountain dwarf stepped to the door of the cell then stopped. “Wait. I know you carry that hammer with you everywhere; you had it in Hillhome. So you could have done this anytime? Gotten me out of here?”
“I told you-there’s no time to talk!” she snapped in agitation.
“Damn it, I want some answers!” Brandon growled. “You’ve been feeding me, bringing me soup-by Reorx, you kissed me through the bars of the cell! When all this time you could have let me out with one swing of your hammer! It’s like I’ve been some kind of caged pet!”
She snorted but then looked away, abashed. In another moment, her face hardened. “Look. We can talk about it later. For now, I’m getting away. Are you coming along?”
“Oh, I’m coming, all right-if only to get those answers you promised!” Brandon muttered, emerging into the dark corridor. “Who’s that?” he said immediately, pointing to Gus and wrinkling his nose.
Gus sulked and pointed back at Brandon, wrinkling his nose in similar fashion.
“Oh, that’s just Gus,” said Gretchan. “He helped save your life. After he almost got you killed. It’s another long story for later. Now come on!”
“Where are we going?” asked Brandon as she led all three at a trot back out of the dead-end corridor.
“Just trust me,” she said. “This place is full of surprises, and I’ve been learning a lot of them.”
TWENTY — FIVE
Help! Help us someone! Open these gates!” Garn Bloodfist shouted for the hundredth time, stalking around the small, square room where he and his two men were caged by the falling portcullis trap.
“I don’t think anyone can hear us, Captain,” Bilious suggested unhelpfully.
“Of course they can’t!” the Klar officer screamed. “Help me make some louder noise, you worthless scum!”
For a time all three of the trapped Klar shouted and hollered until they all were too hoarse to make any sound above a croaking rasp. “What are they doing up there?” demanded the captain in a whisper. “Are they all asleep?
Drunk?”
“I think we’re too far away for them to hear us,” Crank speculated none too brilliantly.
“Your weapons!” Garn said, suddenly struck by inspiration. “Bang them against the bars!”
Crank and Bilious obeyed his order with enthusiasm, drawing their swords and smashing the flats of the blades against the metal bars of the portcullis, raising a din that crashed against their ears with deafening force. The sounds rang and echoed and swelled through the subterranean passage, making an unworldly clamor. Even when the tip of Crank’s blade broke off, the two swordsmen kept up their banging until-finally-a curious Hylar sentry came wandering down into the dungeon to see what all the noise was about.
“Open the gates! Lift the portcullis!” croaked Garn, his voice grown hoarse from more than an hour of shouting. After gaping in momentary astonishment, the rescuer obligingly pulled down on the lever, with each tug of the mechanism working the winch, lifting the two gates an inch at a time. Watching impatiently, the Klar captain wanted to strangle the fellow for taking such a long time, but that would have to wait until he had caught up with the blasted Aghar and the imprisoned Kayolin dwarf.
When the grate was some two feet off the floor, Bloodfist threw himself down flat and squirmed under the barrier, to be quickly followed by Crank and Bilious.
“Finish raising it!” he called back to their rescuer before plunging deeper into the dungeon. His feet pounded on the cold stone floor as he sprinted around corners so fast that he bounced off the walls, putting his head down and urgently charging forward again.
Even before he reached the corridor where Brandon Bluestone was imprisoned, he had the sickening feeling they were going to be too late. Running down the last stretch, he grimaced in almost physical pain as he saw the open doorway to the cell. Skidding to a stop beside the empty chamber, he glared at the wreckage of the splintered door and roared out curses, kicking through the debris as if he expected to find the prisoner hiding there.
“What happened?” asked Crank, gaping stupidly. “Did that gully dwarf knock the door down?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” snapped Garn. “She did this! She’s here, somewhere, working against me. She’s a witch, I tell you; I knew it the first time I saw her! And that gully dwarf told me: she’s lurking right here, in Pax Tharkas!” He stared up and down the corridor as if he could command Gretchan to appear simply by the dint of his willpower.
But of course, that would never happen.
Instead, he ordered Crank to run back to the garrison hall and alert the company of Klar warriors.