Korrak's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

The salt cliffs rose gray against the sky. Korrak lay flat on a ridge above the mining operation. Below, two iron doors sealed the entrance. Six guards stood watch. Mittsu crouched beside him, his scorpion tail low in the dirt. They had planned an assault for two days. Every plan died the same way. Any group that charged those doors would fall before reaching them. "We can't break them," Mittsu said. "Not with six of us." His fist ground into the rock. His brother had died behind those doors. Korrak's clan waited behind them now. Freya wriggled up between them. She peered over the ridge with wide purple eyes. "You're all thinking wrong," she said. "You want the doors open. So make them open the doors for you." Korrak looked at the small half-goblin. "How?" "Prisoners," Freya said. "They march new slaves in all the time. The guards open the doors for those." Caoimhe pushed her glasses up her nose. She held her egg close, its shell warm with fire. "So some of us go in wearing chains," she said. Her voice stayed cool. "We let them cage us. Then we open the doors from inside." A hard smile crossed her face. "I like it." Fizzik shook his head. A green dragon puppet spoke from his hand in a squeaky voice. "Bad guards check faces. Bad guards ask questions." Then his blue puppet answered. "So we give them a show they won't forget." Korrak understood. Fizzik would perform. A wandering bard, captured on the road, worth selling to the mine. The story would hold long enough. They worked fast. Mittsu cut rope into rough manacles. Korrak surrendered his shotgun and hat to Caoimhe, who would wait outside with Freya. His hands went into the loose ropes. Fizzik and Mittsu bound themselves the same way. Mittsu marched them down the slope. He played the slaver, one hand gripping Korrak's shoulder. His tail curled like a whip. A guard shouted for them to halt. "Three strays," Mittsu called. "Caught them on the east road. The big one's an orc. The master pays for orcs." The guard studied Korrak's tusks. He hesitated. Then Fizzik began to sing. His puppet danced on his bound hands. The guards laughed. Their eyes drifted to the gnome. The iron doors groaned open. Korrak walked through. The moment his boots crossed the threshold, he tore the ropes loose. Mittsu roared and drove his tail into the nearest guard. Korrak grabbed a fallen spear and jammed it in the door's track. The doors could not close. "Now!" he bellowed. Caoimhe's fire lit the ridge. She and Freya charged down through the open gate. The entrance was theirs. But inside, alarm bells rang. Boots pounded on stone. Deeper in the dark, a cold voice called for the ledger to be sealed. The slave-master knew they had come. And somewhere in his records, the Ashmarked were about to be moved.