Path: usenet.ee.pdx.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!reuter.cse.ogi.edu!uwm.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!agate!tcsi.tcs.com!uunet!not-for-mail From: guido@rbg.informatik.th-darmstadt.de (Guido Roessling) Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives Subject: STORY: Qelrik part 69 Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc Date: 3 Apr 1995 10:10:33 -0400 Organization: UUNET Technologies Inc, Falls Church VA USA Lines: 138 Sender: smm@uunet.uu.net Approved: smm@uunet.uu.net Message-ID: <3lovkp$9gg@rodan.UU.NET> NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net *** Also available on WWW at http://www.pu.informatik.th-darmstadt.de/dida/qelrik.html and on FTP at ftp.cs.pdx.edu in /pub/frp/stories/qelrik (up to #57, so far) *** ============================================================================= Freedom? ============================================================================= Fox glanced over one broad shoulder, green eyes taking in the last of Gernodt's handiwork critically as she dug in her belt box for the small pick set. Determining the orcs nearby would cause no one problem, and that there were no others nearby to cause an immediate stir, she turned her attention to the lock. "Sorry I'm not as fast as I used to be," she offered the gagged mage in a harsh whisper. Sweat beaded her forehead as she broke one pick in the lock. Cursing softly, she flung aside the pick, selected a stronger one and made short work of the lock. The door to the cell opened with effort, and she felt the rust grind in the hinges as she pushed the door enough to slip inside the cell. Behind her, she heard the last orc slide to the floor and her new companion cross to the nearby cell. She nodded once to herself and worked Dahlarin's gag free. He stretched his aching jaw and opened his dry mouth, trying to work the cramps free. Without a word, Fox unslung a mostly-empty wineskin and poured a stream into the mage's mouth. Gratefully, Dahlarin swished the wine in his pasty mouth, and swallowed. "Thank you, my lady," he rasped. "Fox," she said curtly. "Fox," he amended. He murmured a few syllables under his breath, and the manacles fell free from his wrists. With Fox's help, he lowered his stiff arms; her strong hands massaged his aching shoulders from behind, enough to loosen the horrible cramps the forced position and inactivity had caused. "Gernodt!" he hissed under his breath, breaking away somewhat regretfully from Fox's ministrations. "How's Kyle? Is he alive?" They heard no reply. Dahlarin, alarmed, quickened his pace and rounded the corner. A grim-faced Gernodt was lifting Kyle, who moaned weakly as Gernodt shifted him in his strong arms. Kyle's face was caked with old blood, and his mouth hung at a disagreeable angle. His clothes were ruined, reduced to bits of rag and thread, stained red, brown and black. Unconscious, he shivered in Gernodt's arms, although it was not that cold. Gernodt's eyes registered the horrible agony he felt. Dahlarin's face turned white. "I heard," he whispered. "I heard what they were doing to him, but I didn't think . . ." "We've got to go. Now," Fox interrupted sharply, emerging from Dahlarin's cell. Her green eyes almost glowed white in the dimness, flashing with impatience. "Carry him if you must, but there are more coming. Now." Dahlarin cocked his head. "I don't hear anything." "I'm a far-senser. I _know_. They're coming. We have to go." Dahlarin nodded once, not knowing exactly what she meant, but trusting her judgement. He made a mental note to ask her about it later. Without another word, he ducked into a small guard-room, empty now, and re- emerged with a shoddy, but adequate dagger, and a slightly rusty short sword. He stuffed the sheathed dagger into a deep pocket, and he tied the sword to a loop on his belt with a bit of heavy twine. Painfully aware of their limited time, he mentally went through some of their options. He needed his spellbooks. Although he had many useful spells learned and ready, there were many more that he hadn't cast in weeks, and he would undoubtedly need them eventually. Besides that, he needed to retrieve his amulet, before some orc figured out what it did. Quickly, he decided on a plan of action. "I need to retrieve my spellbooks," he announced, "And I have a way of getting to them, but the orcs are too close for you to wait for me." He dug into his pockets for a moment, and retrieved a small metal ball. He placed it in the unmoving hand of his silver arm, and waved his other hand over it for a moment, chanting mystic words. The ball glowed pale green for a moment. "Here," he said, holding the ball for Gernodt to receive, "I can use this to find my way back to you when I'm finished. I'll see how many of our belongings I can retrieve. Everything is likely stored in one spot." Gernodt took the ball somewhat hesitantly, but offered no argument. Meanwhile, Fox was looking more and more impatient as valuable time was wasted. Immediately he began casting a complicated spell, a very useful spell that he always kept handy. After a moment, he closed his eyes and reached out with his good hand. Immediately, his hand went hazy and mist-like, then disappeared. He shifted his hand around, as if reaching for something inside an invisible bag, then with a triumphant smile, pulled it back. Clutched in his now-visible hand was his amulet. "Go!" he said to the others, sensing Fox's urgency, "I'll be back as soon as I can." "We don't have a choice," Fox snapped. "Find us if you will, if that bauble works." With that, she urged Gernodt ahead of her. "You're carrying the load; you set the pace. I don't want to get too far ahead of you." Gernodt nodded, urging a sudden desire to smile at her statement. His legs were at least twice as long as hers; he doubted she could outpace him if she tried. As they ran, Fox pushed her sense-net even farther, stumbling as an unexpected spike of pain rushed through her head as she did so. "We're ahead of them for now," she said urgently, "but we can't slow down. Not once. They're behind us, and they're gaining fast."