Prince of Lies - James Lowder [131]
"The one w'the blue sail. She'll make it out." The orc spit in the general direction of his chosen boat, then leaned his knobby elbows on the low stone rail that ran the length of theForceBridge.
"Nah," his equally uncouth comrade grunted. "They'll all end up driftwood – or toothpicks fer the dragons."
"Oh yeah? Well if yer so sure, Zadok, how 'bout we wager yer sheev on it?"
Zadok drew an ivory-handled knife from his belt and wiped the dirty blade across his black leather jerkin. "I dunno, Garm. I got this off the body of the first sharp I ever milled. He was a real fancy one, too – before I gave him a topper. Cracked his skull wide open, I did. One blow, right above his-"
"Oi, quiet," Garm hissed. He grabbed Zadok's arm and directed his gaze with one frostbitten finger. "Lookit what we got here!"
The orcs squinted down the bridge toward the northern bank, where flaming barricades had been set to stop anyone from fleeing the city. A lone figure hurried along, close to the railing.
"They let one through!" Garm snarled.
Zadok flipped his knife to a fighting grip and watched the figure slow from a run to a walk. "A woman from the looks of it. Human, I think." He leered. "At least this'll give us something to do."
When she saw the blade in the orc's grip, Rinda stopped and showed her empty hands. "No need for weapons. I'm here to see General Vrakk," she said. "Let me pass."
Garm took a menacing step forward. "Vrakk sent us t'help ya," he lied. "He's got right busy all of a sudden, so we'll be taking care of ya."
Slowly Rinda started away from the railing, trying to angle around the soldiers. Vrakk had said he'd leave orders with the orcs at the barricades to let her pass, but these two obviously knew nothing of that. "He gave me this as proof," the scribe said. She slung her heavy pack off her shoulder and pulled a black armband from a pocket. Cyric's holy symbol grinned from the tattered cloth.
"So what? You've got one of our old regimental bands," Zadok said. "We threw them out months ago, missy. Anybody coulda dug a dozen out of the trash heaps."
Rinda continued to move toward the center of the bridge, but it was clear now the orcs weren't going to let her pass. The scribe glanced uneasily toward the twin towers that marked the southern end of the bridge. No sign of Vrakk on the battlements. She could only hope he'd seen her coming and was on his way.
"Give us the bundle. If it's got anything good in it, we might let ya go back t'the city," Garm offered, creeping closer.
When Rinda moved to reshoulder the pack, Garm leaped forward. He grabbed the bottom of the cloth sack and rolled, hoping to drag the woman off her feet. To his surprise, she let go of the straps. The orc tumbled forward on the rough stone pavement, cursing in a colorful mix of Zhentish and the guttural tongue of his race. The pack burst open beneath him, and its contents spilled across the bridge.
Garm didn't have time to inventory Rinda's belongings. As he pushed himself from the ground, the toe of her boot caught him just in front of the ear. With a loud crack, his jaw snapped out of joint. The orc went down again, this time howling in pain.
"That'll cost you more'n you think, missy," Zadok hissed. He shuffled forward, waving his grimy knife before him.
Rinda watched the orc move closer, watched his beady eyes for some sign he was going to strike. The sound of heavy footfalls had begun to echo from the southern end of the bridge, and shouting, too. If it was Vrakk, he was still too far away for the soldier to hear him. If it was more orcs coming to join the fun… Rinda grimaced. Better end this quickly, then.
The scribe edged sideways until she stood directly over