Sandwhisperer

XV. In the Dark

Leana, perched in her shadowy alcove like a bird ready to take flight, felt the stirrings of the impending rescue tickle her nerves. The anticipation was a palpable thing, thick enough to slice through with the dullest of swords. Her heart, a loyal drum, beat a rhythm of impending action, seemingly in tune with the distant chaos that was gradually unfurling throughout the stronghold.

Around her, the world of Orctown seemed to hold its breath, the usual cacophony of orcish life momentarily subdued as if even the city itself sensed the drama about to unfold. Leana, however, wasn't fooled by the quiet. She knew that just beyond her makeshift sanctuary, the stronghold was a hive of activity, a pot of tension simmering just on the brink of boiling over.

Her mind, ever the strategist despite the odds stacked against her, ran through the plan once more. It was a scheme that would make the most seasoned of plotters pause, a concoction so daring that if it weren't so terrifying, it might have been amusing. Here she was, a human in the heart of Orctown, about to leap into a fray with nothing but her wits and a hope that bordered on the fantastical.

As she readied herself to step out from the shadows, Leana couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of her situation. Once upon a time, her biggest worry had been whether the crops would grow well that season. Now, she was plotting the liberation of children from under the noses of their orc captors, with a plan that hinged on the behavior of wargs – creatures more known for their ferocity than their predictability.

The thought of Gundar, with his misplaced confidence, adding to the drama by splashing around meatberries oil as if he were seasoning a stew rather than laying a trail for beasts, brought a reluctant smile to her face. It was a smile born of nerves, a brief flicker of amusement in the face of danger.

And then, as the signal came, a subtle yet unmistakable sign that it was time to act, Leana's smile vanished, replaced by a mask of determination. The moment of truth had arrived, and with it, the culmination of their audacious plot. Her heart, once a drum of anticipation, now thundered with the promise of action.

As she stepped out from her alcove, Leana embraced the rising drama, her every sense sharpened, ready to play her part in the unfolding spectacle. The chapter of their escape was about to be written, and Leana, with a blend of courage and an undeniable dash of satirical humor at the absurdity of their circumstances, was ready to ensure it would be a story worth telling.

*

Gundar, seizing the momentary lull left by the guards' swift departure, sprinted to the entrance of the servant corridors. With a quick, deliberate knock—a prearranged signal between him and Leana—he then turned back to the children, his movements swift and purposeful. He didn't wait to see the door open; every second counted now, and his focus shifted entirely to freeing the children. When Gundar's eyes found Thornas among the group, a surge of relief washed over him. He quickly stepped forward, cutting through the rope that bound the only face in the room he truly recognized. The sight of Thornas, free from his bindings and looking up at him with a mix of confusion and recognition, was a moment Gundar would never forget.

In that charged moment, as the quiet whispers and soft sobs of the other children filled the air, Gundar felt the full weight of their mission settle upon him. It dawned on him that this was more than a rescue for Thornas—it was a liberation for every child there. Each of them, bound and frightened, was as deserving of freedom as his own kin. This realization not only heightened his sense of duty but also widened the scope of his compassion and resolve.

Meanwhile, Leana, responding to Gundar's signal, opened the door with a mix of caution and haste. The scene that greeted her—Gundar freeing Thornas and turning to the other frightened children—spurred her into immediate action. Noticing the plan was progressing as hoped, she moved to assist, her heart racing with the urgency of their escape. "They're on their way!" Gundar's warning cut through the tense air, the distant growls of the wargs a stark reminder of the danger closing in on them.

With no time to lose, Leana quickly directed the first group of children towards the safety of the servant corridors. Her voice, firm yet reassuring, guided them to move swiftly.

As Gundar turned his attention to the remaining groups of children, the urgency of their plight became painfully apparent. The children, huddled together, their small forms shrouded in the dim light, bore the marks of their captivity. Their clothes were tattered, their faces smudged with dirt, and their eyes—wide with a blend of fear and confusion—spoke volumes of the ordeal they had endured. Each group seemed to cling together, their bonds forged not by friendship but by the shared experience of fear and uncertainty.

Gundar moved swiftly, his hands working to untie the knots that bound them. As he did, he couldn't help but notice the silent tears that streaked some of their faces, the quiet courage in their quivering lips. These were not just Thornas's peers; they were children who had faced the unimaginable, their innocence besieged by the harsh reality of their captivity.

Leana, despite her determination, struggled with her tasks. Gundar noticed an awkwardness in her movements, a hesitancy that was uncharacteristic. It was then he saw it—the way she favored her left arm, the grimace of pain that flashed across her face with certain movements. The injury she had sustained earlier, during their encounter at the gates, was more serious than she had let on. Yet, there she was, pushing through the pain, her resolve unyielding as she worked to free the children.

The process was frantic, with Gundar cutting through the ropes that bound the children while Leana gently guided them towards the safety of the servant corridors. Their efforts were a silent dance of desperation, each movement underscored by the knowledge that time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand.

They managed to free and send six more children scurrying towards the corridors when the air became thick with the imminent threat of the wargs. The sound of their approach was now a deafening roar, a symphonic terror that underscored the gravity of their situation. And then, amidst the chaos, the first warg appeared at the far end of the corridor, its eyes glowing with a feral hunger, its form a shadow of impending doom.

In this moment, as the first warg's silhouette loomed larger, Gundar and Leana shared a glance—a momentary acknowledgment of the razor's edge on which they balanced. The blend of fear, determination, and mutual respect between them was a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness, a silent vow that they would not let this be the end of their story.

The plan, so carefully orchestrated, had brought them to this precipice. Now, with the children on their way to safety and the wargs at their heels, they faced the culmination of their daring gamble, the final test of their courage and resolve.