Shalma's Destruction (Part XV) (Patreon)

Nota Bena: Since it's been a while, and you might need a refresher, here's a link to the previous chapter from our hero's perspective.

“So, what’s the plan?”

The walk to Durrumburgh is long and arduous.  It’s made even more so by the fact that your companion, Skasnell, refuses to make small talk.  Refuses to talk period.  After several unanswered prompts about the weather and the city’s famous funnel cakes, you ask him about the rescue plan, figuring it’s a safe bet to coax conversation.  The burly warrior loved talking battles and strategy.

Not this time.

“You’d think someone I’ve been ordered to murder wouldn’t be quite so annoying.”   

That shuts you up.  The alleged deadline for your demise is only a few hours away, but after your would-be executioner agreed to try and save Shalma, you figured you were in the clear.  Maybe not.  Maybe he’d decide it wasn’t worth the trouble and run you through anyway. 

As you continue to trudge along the dusty path, the spires of Durrumburgh Castle eventually appear on the horizon.  They’re the only structures in the valley tall enough to capture the sun’s first rays over Mount Vintergast and--bathed gold in dawn’s early light with the western Farfield Mountains tinged purple behind them--they look intimidatingly majestic.  Skasnell must think so, too, because he stops when he sees them. 

He also finally speaks.

“The prince’s bedchamber is at the top of one of those spires,” Skasnell says, wiping sweat from his brow. 

“Which one?”

Skasnell shrugs.  “All I know is it has a terrace with an escape route.  If the prince can get down, I figure we can get up.”

You swallow hard.  You’re not normally afraid of heights, but the thought of scaling up the side of a 150-foot spire fills you with dread.   “What if Shalma isn’t there?”

The look on Skasnell’s face tells you that he hopes she isn’t.  “The important thing is that the prince is.  Once we have him, we can find her.”

Taking a prince hostage is far from the “covert operation” you envisioned when you suggested it back at the goblin cave.  It may be more clandestine than a full-frontal assault, but it was far less honorable.  Until recently, your time with Shalma’s crew had been spent largely in the shadows, and your participation in their vile acts minimal, but after assaulting a royal caravan a few days ago and now the prince himself, it will be difficult to spin your involvement as the coercion of an innocent captive.

Before you can object, you hear the galloping clip-clop of horse hooves beyond the next rise.  Skasnell hears them, too.  He grabs your arm and pulls you into a thicket of trees just off the road. 

For a moment, all you see is a distant plume of dust, then a rider appears, their red hair flaring out wildly behind them as they charge along the path.

“It’s Shalma,” Skasnell says as he begins to step from cover. 

“Wait,” you say.  Now it’s your turn to grab Skasnell’s arm.  You need both hands to secure his bicep.  “Who’s that behind her?”

Skasnell squints at the dark-haired rider trailing Shalma’s steed by a few lengths.  “It’s Prince Harrington!  He’s chasing her.”

“He’s not chasing her,” you correct.  “He’s trying to keep up.”

Skasnell sees you’re right.  Shalma’s face is determined, her eyes focused on the road ahead.  She’s unconcerned by the regal-looking man trailing her.  Prince Harrington, on the other hand, seems very concerned.  His eyes are frantic, and he has a strangle-hold on his reins. 

“She’s leading him to our hideout,” the burly warrior says.

“It seems that way,” you respond.  Of course, why is another matter.  Before you have time to speculate, Skasnell pushes past you toward the road.  You briefly consider grabbing his arm again, but think better of it, instead following him out of the thicket.

When Shalma sees Skasnell, her face softens, but when she sees you emerge from the trees behind him, her relief is palpable.  Prince Harrington looks equally relieved as he brings his lathered mount to a stop beside hers.

“This is your invading force?” the prince scoffs, looking disdainfully at you. 

Skasnell scowls and steps forward.  “It’s twice as big as it needs to be.”  The prince’s steed rears back, nearly throwing its royal rider.

“Enough!” Shalma shouts, her voice firm but controlled.  The order freezes her second in command and settles the prince’s spooked horse.  The prince himself, however, still looks frazzled. 

Skasnell pivots toward the busty barbarian, his hand resting atop the hilt of his sword.   “Cutting things a little close, aren’t we?”

Shalma ignores him, instead addressing the prince.  “Prince Harrington, this is the matter we discussed last night.”

You have no idea what the winsome warrior is talking about, but then you notice she’s gesturing in your direction.

The prince’s look of disdain disappears and is replaced by one that doesn’t make sense under the circumstances…

Wonder. 

He lopes his horse forward until he’s just a few feet away.  “Have you been well-treated?” he asks, eying you up and down.

How do you respond?