Song of the Saurials - Kate Novak [105]
"They hate sunlight," the ranger offered, "and they can sometimes be frightened off with a very bright magical light."
"Like a light stone?" Zhara said, pulling one from the robe of her pocket. The damp walls around them glittered in the bright light.
"Yes," Breck nodded. "Keep it hidden for now, though, and spring it on them suddenly. The surprise will add to their fear."
Zhara pocketed the light stone.
The party finally reached the entryway to a cave that reeked of burnt flesh and smoke. Tiny pricks of red light indicated coals still burning in the dark room ahead. Alias held up the finder's stone to see into the room.
It looked as if the center of the ceiling had crashed into the room, and it appeared to have happened very recently. Several dead orcs lay about the floor under piles of rock. Others lay on the ground, felled by some mysterious magic that left no mark. Dead animals lay smoldering over dying charcoal fires.
"If this is the work of the Nameless Bard," Breck said, "I'm impressed."
Alias said nothing. She had done her share of killing, but it was impossible not to notice how young some of the dead orcs were. If causing such destruction was the only way to save his life, she could understand. What she couldn't understand was how Nameless could have been so foolish as to come this close to an orc warren to begin with.
Breck leaned over and yanked a leather thong off the neck of a dead orc. He held it out for Alias to examine. On the end was an ear-an elven ear. "This is the orc tribe of the Torn Ear," the ranger said. "They've been preying on small caravans in the dales for twenty years now. The Dalesmen have tried sending out caravans full of adventurers disguised as merchants, but the Torn Ear always seem to know if a caravan is authentic. Once they've cut off their victims' ears, they loot only the most precious treasures, leaving the rest with the corpses for the crows to pick over. They're expert at covering their trail, too.
No one has ever been able to track them to their lair. This season they've attacked nearly three times as many caravans as in any other year. Lord Mourngrym has sent out two parties to search for their warren. Neither group came back."
The ranger laid the thong with the elven ear back down on the chest of the fallen orc. "Well, let's find your Nameless Bard. I'd like to meet him," Breck said.
The beacon light from the finder's stone led them around the collapsed ceiling.
They had to stoop now to pass through the edges of the room where the ceiling remained intact. Grypht remained behind, waiting for Dragonbait to return with a report of how far it was to an area that was open enough for the larger saurial to move through comfortably.
They came to another tunnel about fifteen feet wide, leading away from the main room of the orc warren. The voices of ores drifted down the tunnel to their ears. Knowing danger lay in that direction made no difference. The finder's stone indicated that Nameless was in the same direction, so they couldn't avoid it.
The tunnel's ceiling was higher here, so Dragonbait returned to tell Grypht.
Breck paced impatiently until Dragonbait reappeared. "Well, where's that lumbering wizard friend of yours?" he asked the paladin in a whisper.
A giant finger tapped Breck on the head. Grypht had stepped through his dimension door directly behind the ranger and crept up on him in the darkness.
"Uh… let's go," Breck said sheepishly.
Grypht held the ranger back by the collar of his leather armor and addressed Alias for a moment.
Alias rolled her eyes with annoyance, but she translated the wizard's words faithfully. "Grypht says we should wait for Zhara to grant us Tymora's blessing."
Breck and the others stood by while Zhara pulled out a vial of holy water and began chanting for the goddess of luck to grant them her favors. As the priestess