"Remember the buckle we found in the runaway wagon?" Tungdil tiptoed to the door and scanned the street. "I knew I recognized it from somewhere." He slipped out of the tavern with Boпndil at his side. "We're safe," he said. "They're searching another street."
"You mustn't run," Boпndil told Goпmgar. "Running in the middle of the night only attracts attention. They'll assume you're a criminal."
The travelers proceeded at a leisurely pace, chatting and smiling as if they were out for a nighttime stroll. Nothing in their behavior suggested they were engaged in illicit activity or fleeing a murder scene. Djerun stayed in the shadows, trying to keep a low profile.
Before they could reach the gates, a group of guards approached on a routine patrol.
"Remember, Goпmgar: Just stay calm," whispered Boпndil.
"Shush," hissed Balyndis with one eye on the trembling artisan. "You're only making things worse!"
The guards were getting closer and had almost drawn level when a thin voice piped up. "Arrest the villains! Those are the culprits! Arrest them, guards! They're getting away!"
"That blasted gnome. I'll wring his scrawny neck," growled Ireheart, whipping out his axes to defend himself. The bewildered guardsmen looked to their leader for direction.
Just then the captain of the first patrol burst onto the street, shouting orders for their arrest. Candles blazed in the windows, shutters were opened, and the city awoke from its slumber.
"We don't have time for explanations," said Andфkai, drawing her sword. "They won't believe us and we'll rot in their dungeons."
"So what do we do?" demanded Bavragor, gripping the haft of his hammer, ready to fight his way out of the gates.
"It's probably best if I slip away now," said Rodario, shouldering his precious bag of costumes and hastily taking his leave. "I'll see you outside the city. I don't want to get in your way." He hurried into a side street before the guards could surround them.
"Never trust an actor." Narmora grinned and pulled out her weapons.
Tungdil held up his ax, poll first. "Don't kill unless you have to," he instructed them. "We're leaving Roodacre-whether they like it or not."
Tungdil couldn't help noticing that their opponents were woefully underprepared. More accustomed to chasing purse snatchers and incarcerating drunks, the guards had little experience with combat and stood no chance of restraining four staunch dwarves, a maga, a half дlf, and a giant.
Furgas wasn't much of a warrior, but he held his ground valiantly and cleared enough space for Narmora to swing her weapons unimpeded. Goпmgar was tasked with guarding the rest of the ingots.
After the shortest of skirmishes, they hurried to the gates, where Rodario was conversing with a guard. The whole company descended on the distracted sentry before he could sound the alarm. When he eventually noticed the maga, it was already too late.
"You will let us through," she intoned. "You will let us through and tell no one that we passed this way." Even as she spoke, the sentry's eyes glazed over and he raised the portcullis without a word.
"Didn't I do well?" the impresario said to Andфkai. "I bewitched his senses with my silvery speech, thus enabling the Estimable Maga to cast her spell. Magic certainly has its uses. I don't suppose you'd consider a spot of backstage conjuring? Together we could put on a spectacle of such-"
Furgas shook his head despairingly. "For pity's sake, Rodario!"
"There's no harm in asking. We need to earn a living somehow when our amazing adventure is at an end."
Bavragor laughed. "Assuming you survive that long."
Buffeted by the wind, the rising portcullis made enough of a racket to wake the other sentries, whom Boпndil attacked with enthusiasm. He stuck to using his poll as instructed, but Tungdil detected the sound of splintering bone.
He's desperate to finish them off. He looked in consternation at the bloodied and oddly misshapen face of a sentry. The man keeled over as Ireheart landed a follow-up blow. With at least one dead, the company would be wanted for multiple murder as well as theft.
Meanwhile, the portcullis was still rising slowly, but Sverd had followed them and was hiding in an alleyway, preparing to alert the guards a second time. "They're escaping! The murderers are escaping through the gates!"
Even the last determined sleepers in the city were torn from their slumber by his shouts. Everyone with two legs and a weapon found their way onto the street, including the first courageous members of the militia, who came running out of their houses, having barely stopped to dress.
"Do something, Andфkai," shouted Tungdil, terrified of what would happen to the citizens of Roodacre if the battle-crazed Boпndil was to rampage through the city. "We won't be able to hold them off."
This time she didn't turn to sorcery. "Djerun," she barked, and issued an unintelligible order.
The giant stepped forward. The torches of the assembled crowd bathed his armor in flickering light, bringing the threatening visor to life. At that moment the helmet produced a noise unlike anything Tungdil had heard in his life. It was a cross between a reptilian hiss and the dull, ponderous rumble of an earthquake, a sound so full of aggression and menace that anyone in earshot knew instantly not to approach. Tungdil felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He took a nervous step back.
Inside the helmet, the violet glow intensified, streaming out of the eyeholes and outshining the torches. The horrified faces of the transfixed crowd were steeped in a purple light that was painful to behold.
The second roar was even louder and more terrifying than the first. This time everyone, including the guardsmen, turned in panic and fled, running back through the streets and alley-ways to safety.
The portcullis was almost fully raised. "Let's g-go," stuttered Tungdil, still shaken by the sound of Djerun's voice. Assuming it was his voice…
They ran into the night, glancing over their shoulders as they hurried down the snowy road. No one followed. The giant's performance had made enough of an impression to dissuade the townspeople from hunting them down.
As for Tungdil, he was more curious than ever about the armored warrior, although he suspected the truth would be less than reassuring. It's not a human, at any rate, he decided.
The company jogged in silence through the snow. After a while, Bavragor, who had fallen in line behind Goпmgar, pointed to the artisan's back. "Where are the ingots?" he panted breathlessly, listening in vain for a response. "Hey, I asked you a question!"
Goпmgar sped up, intent on getting far enough ahead before he dared to answer. "I lost them," he said plaintively. "A guardsman knocked the bag from my hand and I couldn't reach it in the scrum. I'm sorry, I honestly didn't mean to-"
"Didn't mean to…? I'll give you didn't-mean to, you worthless little-" Bavragor lunged at him but was rest rained by Tungdil from behind.
"It's all right, Bavragor."
The mason was beside himself. His chestnut eye glinted angrily. "All right? We've lost every single one of the ingots! We can't exactly fetch them now!"
"We'll be in the fifthling kingdom before you know it; we're bound to find something there," said Tungdil in a firm, confident voice that reminded everyone that he was the leader. To his mind, the matter was closed.
"But you said we shouldn't rely on finding materials on the way," Bavragor objected stubbornly. "So why-"
"What's done is done," Tungdil said sharply. "We'll have to make the best of things." He loosened his hold on Bavragor and clapped him on the back. "No matter what happens, we're not going to let it stop us. We can't! No one else is going to forge the ax and save Girdlegard. It's up to us."
"It would be a darned sight easier without Goпmgar," grumbled Bavragor. "He only drags us down."
"Vraccas must have made him part of this mission for a reason." Tungdil noticed that the mason was wheezing. "Steady on, Bavragor, you'd better stop talking before you get a stitch. Goпmgar's fitter than you."