“Yes, that would probably be best.” The Solamnic instinctively sought to take her arm, as any noble would have done to escort a lady departing from a dining hall, but Idaria somehow avoided his reach without seeming to even notice it.
After they stepped out into the dark, silent corridor, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you look forward to becoming free?”
After a moment’s silence, she answered, “Everyone yearns to be free.”
“Is it because of you that this daring notion has occurred to Golgren? Is he doing this for you then, my lady?”
“I don’t know what you are insinuating, but such thoughts are unworthy of a Knight of Solamnia,” the elf reproached him, her tone frosty. “And such a topic is unworthy of conversation.”
His face flushed. As they turned down another shadowy hallway, he stammered, “My lady, I never meant to insult you in any-”
A guard’s abrupt appearance ahead of them saved him from saying anything to worsen the situation. The gargantuan ogre stood almost like a statue, so still that even Idaria did not at first see him. He held a long sword at his shoulder, and only the faint glint of torchlight gave any indication that his eyes watched them. Two more guards stood farther down the hall. As with all of Golgren’s palace guards, they wore new breastplates and even helmets that fit snugly over their shaggy heads.
“The guards are back,” the knight murmured to his companion. “I guess Golgren only trusts me up to a point.”
“If there are guards posted along the way to your rooms, it is because he is concerned for your well-being,” Idaria returned. Yet Stefan could tell that the sudden presence of the guards made even her uncomfortable. “There was-” But she stopped, bit her lip, then resumed her pose of indifference.
Stefan gripped the hilt of his sword. He peered closer at the nearby guard. “There is something unusual in his-”
The guard shifted, his blade suddenly moving.
“Watch out!” Stefan roared, shoving the elf to the side. Even as he did that, he drew his weapon with his other hand.
The ogre’s blade threw up sparks when its edge scraped the floor, briefly illuminating the guard’s monstrous face. Only Stefan’s training had saved him from being cut wide open; his armor would not have saved him from such a close blow.
“Beware!” warned Idaria from the side, where the knight had shoved her. “The others come!”
The knight swapped blows with the first guard, discovering quickly that his adversary was better versed in fighting maneuvers than he would have expected. He retreated from a hard swing then saw an opening and cut the ogre across his sword arm. The guard dropped his blade, clutching his wound as he retreated.
No sooner had Stefan fended off the first ogre than the two reinforcements were upon him. He faced a sword and axe, the two ogres swinging their weapons at him nearly simultaneously.
Despite his predicament, the knight worried about Idaria. He shouted, “Run, my lady! Run!”
There was no response from the elf woman, nor was there even the sound of any movement from her direction. Stefan swore an oath then fought to press the two ogres near each other, the better to hamper their movements. If they moved apart and came after him from opposite sides, he would stand less of a chance.
Each time his weapon deflected that of one of his foes, Stefan’s entire body shook. Solamnic weapons were well forged, but the guards’ brutish strength was astounding. Worse, the ogre guards, like the first one, were better trained than the average ogre.
From behind him, he heard the sound of metal scraping against stone. The first ogre had recovered his sword and was rejoining the attack on the knight. In desperation, Stefan lunged at the close ogre fighting with a sword, catching the giant as the latter drew his arm back for a swing.
The Solamnic impaled his foe between the ribs. The guard let out a growl and stumbled into his nearby comrade.
As the two collided, Stefan spun around to face the first ogre again. That guard, still bleeding from his wound, had his massive sword gripped clumsily in both hands. He slashed wildly at the knight, forcing the human back toward the other ogres.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan saw the guard with the axe shove his limp comrade aside. The ogre the knight had stabbed tumbled to the floor and lay there motionless, like a sack of grain. That was one less foe. However, Stefan was caught between the remaining two, who were on either side of him.
He managed to avoid a swing by the axe wielder, but then a jab by the swordfighter pierced his side. Only the armor kept it from doing much harm. Even still, the blow knocked Stefan off balance.
The ogres were oddly silent throughout the struggle, making only small grunts of effort or gasps when wounded. They fought with a strange fanaticism in their eyes, as though they were doomed no matter what the outcome of the fight.
Stefan scored the axe wielder’s hand, but the wound was shallow and, for an ogre, of no consequence. Slowly but surely, they were pushing him into a small corner against the wall. Once trapped there, the knight would be vulnerable.
Then shouts arose from down the corridor. The ogre waving a sword glanced warily over his shoulder.
Seizing the opening, the knight buried his own weapon deep in the giant’s stomach.
Unfortunately, although the treacherous guard perished instantly, his heavy body crashed toward the human. His hand still clutching his sword, Stefan was buried under the corpse.
As he struggled, his view was blocked by the dead ogre’s head. He was doomed. Yet the last assassin did not materialize. Instead, Stefan heard an odd but not unfamiliar sound.
The beating of wings.
That was followed by a violent growl from the last assassin. A hiss arose from elsewhere; then a heavy thud resounded nearby.
A momentary silence reigned; then several ogre voices and a very welcome elf one filled the human’s ears.
The dead body shifted and was dragged off. The Solamnic was hauled to his feet, gulping air.
Wargroch steadied him. The ogre wore a puzzled look as his eyes shifted from the knight to the bodies and back again.
“Huh! Well fought, Shok G’Ran,” Wargroch rumbled, clearly caught between admiration for any fighter’s skill and the fact that a puny human had done so well against his own kind.
Only then did Stefan notice the third ogre’s dead body, compliments of a slit throat. The knight started to ask what had happened when Idaria interrupted.
“These warriors … they are not familiar to me, Wargroch.”
The ogre grunted. “I am new. Khleeg, he knows maybe.”
“Then they should be brought to him for identifying. See that it is done promptly.”
Wargroch reacted to her words as though she were Golgren himself. He told some of the guards with him to take the bodies away. As the guards obeyed, Wargroch again eyed the Solamnic.
“Well fought,” he repeated then followed the other guards hefting their grisly burdens.
Two ogre guards remained behind; they were clearly known and trusted by Idaria. They took up discreet positions flanking the pair.
Meanwhile, the elf inspected Stefan. “These bruises and this cut must be treated.” Idaria probed one of his wounds, which caused the knight to flinch. “Once you are safe in your chambers, I will have some herbs and cloths brought to aid your healing.”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble for me. These wounds are slight.”
One brow arched. “It would seem trouble follows you. I feared that even though I was bringing help, I would arrive much too late, and instead here you are, the victor against tremendous odds! Probably your worst wound comes from one of their corpses falling on you. It seems you had little to fear from three formidable attackers. Are all Solamnics so skilled?”
“I didn’t kill the third one,” Stefan admitted. “While I was trapped under-”