them by surprise.”
Jodyne scowled beneath her beard and crossed her arms. “This better work,” she grumbled, moving back and sitting down with her back to a wall. She crossed her legs self consciously and waited.
Bekka watched her for only a moment and then looked away. It was a dangerous game they tried, but as Jodyne had pointed out, death might be better than what the slavers had in mind for them.
She sat down as well and closed her eyes to meditate. She wondered if she could perhaps turn one of her spells into something that might aid them after all. Minor effects and protective magics were the extent of her abilities; she doubted that she had anything that would be of great effect. A distraction she might cause, but little more.
“Who be you?” Kragor asked, sitting up and reaching to rub the knot on his skull. His arm ached and throbbed from where a club had bruised him deeply near the shoulder.
“My name is Xander,” the human replied morosely. He, too, sat naked in the small room.
Kragor grunted and turned to study the door of their prison. It was solidly built, if simple, and he doubted it could be opened short of tools or by possession of strength greater than the two of them possessed. While displeased with his state of dress, he saw little point in letting it visibly upset him. He had greater concerns to deal with.
“What’s happening?” Kragor asked, turning back to him.
“You’ve been captured by slavers,” the man said sarcastically, “same as me.”
Kragor scowled. “Maybe you have, but I ain’t been captured yet.”
“Oh? Naked dwarf trapped in a cell… you’re right, that doesn’t sound like captured to me,” the man scoffed.
Kragor turned on him, fists clenched. “Shut yer mouth, I’m thinking!”
Xander recoiled a bit at the ferocity and volume of the dwarf’s voice. He shook his head after a minute and shrugged. “Think all you want, dwarf, there’s naught to be done.”
The dwarf ignored him and turned to once again study the door. He imagined some sort of a lever might work to lift it off its hinges, but they were short on levers.
“They found my tower and raided it, losing nearly a dozen men to my defenses before they broke in. I slew more, but they were too many. They stole my spell books and drained my magic from me, then tossed me in here,” Xander continued.
“You’re a wizard?” Kragor asked, not caring about his story but wondering if the man might be able to magic up some trick for them.
“I was,” Xander said, pulling a small amount of pride in to himself. “Xander vonHelric, wizard of the void.”
Kragor grunted, never having heard of the man before. “Can you wizard up some way out of here for us?”
“Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Xander said in mock relief. “That’s what I needed, a furry dwarf to remind me of my skills!”
Kragor scowled and turned away, not liking the man’s tone.
“They drained my magic from me, dwarf!” Xander spat out contemptuously. “I must study and rest to recover, and without my spell books I am useless!”
“That was your tower?” Kragor asked, ignoring the caustic remarks from the powerless wizard.
“You can hear!” Xander said, the praise dripping sarcasm. “I constructed it with my magic, a mighty fortress able to house my conjurings.”
He sighed and looked at the floor, his anger fading to sadness. “It’s destroyed now, barely a shell of what it was. At least my final trap in my casting room has two of them prisoner still. My final victory: their death, as my sand sharks rend their flesh from their bones.”
Kragor spun around and stared at him. He walked over, stumpy legs crossing the distance in the small cell in three strides, and he grabbed the mage by both arms and yanked him forward so that their faces were only inches apart.
“You’ve got two men trapped in your tower?” he asked him, his tone deadly and even.
Eyes wide, Xander nodded. “Yes,” he stammered.
“Them be my friends,” Kragor told him. “Them went in to see if they could help any survivors. Let them go!”
“Let go of me!” Xander snapped, trying to pull Kragor’s hands off of his arms ineffectually. “More likely they sought to pillage the remains!”
“I’m not telling you again,” Kragor hissed, hands pinching mercilessly into the wizard’s soft arms.
Xander grimaced in pain and debated whether or not he should listen to the dwarf. If nothing else, it would make him leave him alone. Besides, if they were the dwarf’s friends and not some of the slavers, they may not deserve the grisly fate he had in store for them. Of course, if they were slavers what difference did it make?
“You sure this is gonna work?” Rosh asked as he made ready to toss the inverted table where Dexter had explained that he wanted it.
“The tables have a marble top on them,” Dexter grunted, straining under the heavy weight as he held up his end of the six foot long table. “Those things can’t come through the marble we be on, I’m thinking they can’t come through this.”
Rosh shrugged, not willing to admit that Dexter’s logic was sound. He counted to three and together they launched the table away from the dais and onto the sand. It hit unevenly but settled down almost immediately, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. The creatures in the sand roiled and writhed beneath the surface, moving towards it and lashing out at it, but being turned away every time. After a few moments they stopped, and instead moved around it as though they knew that Rosh and Dexter would soon be upon it.
“I’ll be damned,” Rosh muttered.
“Already are, I ‘spect,” Dexter replied, moving over to the other table and getting ready to lift it.
Rosh grinned and moved to the opposite end. They flipped it over and lifted it up, then Rosh stepped off the dais and onto the first table which was laying upside down on the sand. The sand burst forth as the creatures within it showed their agitation. They lashed out at it again, some even rising out of the sand far enough to bite into the table legs and tear them away. Rosh bent his knees to keep his balance and moved backwards slowly, letting Dexter catch up.
Dexter’s grip was slipping on the table and he wondered again at the strength of Rosh. He considered himself a strong man, but Rosh seemed to lift it up as though it was effortless. He focused on the man at the other end of the table, ignoring the snapping creatures that they could now see glimpses of.
The sand sharks resembled a cross between a snake and a fish, although they also possessed small legs and feet. Their mouths were what was most threatening, since they were filled with vicious looking teeth. Teeth that, they had discovered, could cut through metal. Those same teeth also tore apart the stout wooden legs of the table with ease.
Rosh reached the end of the first table and signaled Dexter to let go. Hunkering down, he tilted Dexter’s end up in the air slowly, then twisted and shuffled his feet to turn in place. Straining to hold the weight of the entire table by himself, braced against his hips while his arms held onto the sides, he thrust his hips forward and tried to aid in tossing the table with his hands at the same time.
It crashed onto the sand, digging in and sliding only a little. Nearly three feet of distance separated the two tables, an easy jump were it not for the freshly aggravated sand sharks that now moved between the tables and lashed out at the new platform they had established to walk on.
“That’s quite a jump,” Dexter observed, noting the distance between the tables.
Rosh grunted, breathing hard from his effort. “Ain’t that far,” he finally said.
“Aye, it’s not,” Dexter agreed. “But when these things are trying to chew a piece out of your hide, to the moon and back without a ship!”
Rosh shrugged, unable to deny his Captain’s observation. He looked down at the distance and backed up so that he stood directly in front of Dexter. “You want to go first this time?”
“Not really,” Dexter said.
