Legends from The Warlock's Chair - Book One - Ravengaard

Chapter Fourteen - The Fortress of Zigmal

'B... but,' Holt spluttered. He started complaining, then realized if he was hoping to get near the prize he was after, he needed to play along with the ruse he had created.

Just then a tall, wiry Gnome with a thatch of flaming red hair and whiskers to match appeared in the doorway. Holt watched him enter. At first glance, he thought there was something strange about the newcomer. His limbs appeared too long for a Gnome and he walked with an ungainly gait, as if unused to his body. Holt looked at Grist, but the Boss Gnome did not seem to have discerned anything unusual, and when he looked back all appeared normal. Holt shook his head, must have been a trick of the light, he thought.

The red-headed Gnome made his way over to the table and stood beside Tiber Grist. A contemptuous look crossed his pale thin face as he glanced around the chamber.

'Grist,' he sneered. 'Have you and your band of miscreants got nothing better to do than sit around all day eating and drinking. There is work to be done.'

Holt saw Tiber Grist's fists bunch as he suppressed his anger.

Any thoughts that Holt had about this being Shabur Varg quickly became dispelled. He watched as Tiber Grist stood. The newcomer stood as tall as Grist, but Grist far outweighed him. Holt thought he detected a hint of apprehension flash across Tiber's face. But it promptly disappeared, replaced by a faint smile.

'Dagan. And a good morning to you as well,' Tiber said sarcastically.

Dagan Thayn ignored Tiber's reply. 'Varg as work for you to do,' he said sharply. 'Be ready to go within the hour.'

His eyes lingered on Holt for a moment, as if sizing him up. Then, with a final look at those seated at the tables, he turned and left the room.

'That my newfound friend, is Dagan Thayn, Varg's right hand. A nasty piece of work. Stay clear of him, keep out of trouble, and you still cannot be sure you will not incur his wrath.'

Without hurrying, the Gnomes finished their breakfast feast and gradually started to leave the hall. Soon only Tiber Grist and the Troll, whose name he had learned was Ixil Driz, remained. Tiber spoke to the Troll, briefing him on making sure the brigands were ready for whatever work Shabur Varg had for them. The Troll nodded his understanding and made his way to the Gnome quarters. Tiber stood and walked over to where Holt was collecting plates.

'Make haste with your work Bredock,' he instructed, slapping Holt on the back with one huge hand. 'We will soon depart, but do not think of leaving us. There is only one way out of here and that is guarded night and day. I should not like to hear you have spurned Varg's hospitality by trying to escape.'

'Pah, do not worry I will carry out your tasks. But I must admit I was hoping for something a bit more suited to my skills,' he grumbled. 'Cleaning is no work for a Gnome Hunter.'

'Maybe next time, eh? If the chance arises; I will speak to Varg.' Grist told him.

Holt nodded, trying to look suitably miserable. He had no intention of escaping until he possessed what he came for.

But then things would be different.

Soon the sun's rays started filtering through the windows high on the walls. Flooding the hall with light and driving away the gloom. At least the driving wind and rain seemed to have ceased.

Hopefully, Eldon will be able to dry out now, he thought to himself.

As he worked, he pieced together the bits of the puzzle he had. This Shabur Varg had the gemstone he had come looking for. The Amulet of Hidden Ways, Ceridwen had called it. By all accounts, it had the power to transport the wearer from one place to another using these mysterious lines which flow across the surface of the worlds. With nothing worth plundering within a day's march from here the Warlord must have figured out how to send an army of his brigands to loot and pillage the other strongholds of Yar-Atgur. With such a weapon at his command, Varg's army could raid a castle without the need to do battle or lay siege for days on end. They would be in, take what they wanted, and be out again before the defenders grasped what was happening.