Once they reach the top of the ramp and can see the stars at the top of the Well – it happens.
The slave who is being forced to be the leader of their expedition has an exceptionally bad time…
From one side of the archway a clawed hand darts out and rips the fellow’s throat into a red ruin. The claw’s owner steps out of the shadows with a hiss and Shaddar recognizes it as a vampire spawn.
“You dare to defy the UnderKing? This place is not for you! It is not for anyone!” it snarls, “You die, desecraters!”
Toothsnatcher responds with eagerness to not only remove the threat, but to test his new axe in combat. He is not disappointed in the results.
With a grunt and a powerful bound, he jumps to the front of the column and drops a mighty overhand blow onto the creature. The sizzling blade cuts through supernaturally-tough, undead flesh with sickening ease, rending it into multiple chunks of twitching foulness. Such is not enough to kill the fiend, but it will force it to return to its tomb to build a new physical form.
Before the defeated vampire spawn dissipates into mist, it locks eyes with Shaddar and has the most interesting thought: “It can’t be!”
This thought is his last before his corporal form melts into a haze and floats upwards.
“Fascinating,” Shaddar thinks as he stares at the retreating essence. “There is no doubt that this creature recognized what, or perhaps who, I am. The first of any to do so in this entire world. A pity that it was dispatched so quickly. Perhaps it will try to visit us again and I can torture it at my leisure… Or even better, mayhap it will report to the master vampire and that will come calling instead. A vampire lord could be a powerful ally in a land where all of the humans fear undead.”
Another thought springs to mind as he thinks about this development, “It may do me good to masquerade as Felinxtrath, just in case there are those who know his name. After all, none here know my true name and I am the only ‘tall, long-tentacled one’ in the Realm!”
Shaddar waves on his unsettled group and they leave the dead slave behind. The minotaur chops at the chain attached to the dead man and it is cleanly cut in half with a ringing of metal. Toothsnatcher examines the totally unmarred edge of his new axe while chortling in contentment as they walk on.
It takes another two days to reach the surface.
The last of Jorin’s two friends meet their doom on the way up. The first paid the penalty for being the slowest of the four remaining slaves on the first day and served as a delightful snack for Shaddar. The second almost lived to see the top, but activated one of the traps and broke his neck in the resulting fall.
With two slaves remaining, Shaddar is pleased. It is a certainty that he will not need to go without sustenance on the way back to Big City. The brawler who worked for Vicacili and the spoiled, rich brat are all that remain, but neither of them have returned into the sunlight in the same state as they left it. Broken they are. Both of them. Ah, well.
Shaddar and the hobgoblins are gratified to find that their wagon has remained undisturbed. Both horses are nearby as well – fat from the grass they have been munching on for the past week.
Besides the slaves, everyone is in good spirits to be back on the surface. Shaddar wastes no time and they set off at once. Only Toothsnatcher walks, everyone else is glad for a chance to ride and rest their legs.
The rest of the day’s journey passes without seeing another soul on the little-traveled path that they are on. They make camp a half-mile before their road joins with the much more worn one that will lead directly back to Big City.
It is not yet mid-morning when Toothsnatcher warns: “I can hear and smell someone on the road ahead of us, master.”
The hobgoblins are skeptical, but Shaddar is sure of his thrall’s talents. Indeed, it only takes another half-hour before Shaddar can sense a jumble of minds before them. They quickly overtake what seems to be a slow-moving caravan of some kind.
There is a phalanx of white-robed youths, each carrying a pole with a fluttering gold streamer at the top. The two wagons are gilded and carved exquisitely. Each of them is adorned with large golden pendants of the same style. In the center of each wagon sits a single golden chest, but they are surrounded by other small offerings. As Shaddar watches a peasant girl curtsies to the wagon and tosses a bunch of flowers onto one of the wagons and her father bows and puts a bottle of wine on the other one.
At the head of the column rides a gray-haired figure in half-plate, waving to passers-by in a solemn and almost reverential manner. Shaddar guesses that he might be a semi-retired hero or knight. His helm has golden streamers fluttering behind him as he rides and his saddle is bedecked with flowers and ribbons. Beside this obvious leader of the group dance a trio of minstrels playing pipe, harp, and drum.
“What is this?” Shaddar thinks, “A parade? A clerical ritual, perhaps? Oh, it could be anything… These people are all insane after all! Best just spoil their little party and see what comes of it.”
Shaddar motions for his hobgoblins to disembark and cut off the caravan. Kug leans over to advise him as he watches his troops slide up both sides of the road.
“Master,” Kug says quietly, “Them’s the flags and symbols of the Lords. Take care how you go, eh? No one dares to molest their goods, you know?”
Shaddar gently waves Kug on with one hand while he laughs heartily. Kug shrugs and snaps the reigns to speed their wagon up.
The peasants scatter like dead leaves at the sight of such heavily and splendidly armed hobgoblins. The leader of the caravan reigns to a stop and the music ceases as the hobgoblins form a line across the road.
Shaddar notices that not a single other member of this group is armed – only the elderly leader at the head.
“Apparently no one has dared to molest such rich prizes,” Shaddar thinks with glee, “I suppose units of armed guards has proved unnecessary due to the respect the people here show the Lords. Well… Until now.”
The leader peers at Shaddar’s tentacled face and smiles tightly. Toothsnatcher twists his hands around the leather grip of his unholy weapon at his master’s side.
“Yes? What is it you and your troop of carnival freaks require?” he says with a raised eyebrow. His thoughts go on: “Perhaps they have a large offering that we need to load?”
Shaddar says nothing. His minions also do not move, taking their cues from him.
The leader sighs, “Well, be quick about leaving your offering, then. We carry delicacies for the High Lord of Big City! And I, Hero Hubar, have been entrusted with their care! We must not delay! These fine edibles from the coast must remain fresh as His Excellency prefers them. So make your offering!”
Shaddar leans towards the man, at his same height on horseback as Shaddar is sitting at the front of his wagon.
“You are such a flatterer, sir,” he laughs, “I’m not the High Lord of Big City.”
“What?” Hubar drops one hand to the pommel of his sheathed sword in confusion – certain that he has misheard.
“Nonetheless… All of this stuff? It’s mine,” Shaddar explains patiently.
“What?!” the man howls, gripping his sword firmly now, “How dare you! None have ever dared to speak in such a manner!” Hubar’s thoughts continue: “Unless this is in fact, High Lord Culderth’jura in disguise? I’d better check…” He controls his outrage and asks, “Are you then… the High Lord?”
Shaddar laughs, “No! Of course not! I’m the Boss.”
“The Boss?” the fellow repeats stupidly, “The Boss of what?”
“Oh, many things,” Shaddar says expansively.
The whispers of the pole-bearers and the now silent musicians are upsetting Hubar almost as much as Shaddar’s cryptic replies. He attempts to reassert control of the situation by returning to the only thing he can believe Shaddar could possibly be here for.
“So do you then… have an offering?”
Shaddar sighs. “Very well. I offer you… your life.”
“My life?” Hubar sputters.
“Yes. I will grant you your life. So you may report back to your Lords of Big City. To the Knights and Heroes, too,” Shaddar says while tapping his clawed fingertips together.
“Report what?”
“That ‘The Boss’ is responsible for taking back what is rightfully his,” Shaddar says carelessly, “Now get out of the way, fool, while we unload my things from these ridiculous golden carts.”
Hubar’s sword whips free of his scabbard at this. “No unhallowed hand shall touch the High Lord’s delicacies!”
Toothsnatcher swings the flat of his massive greataxe against the side of the man’s head in a blur of speed. The senseless Hero Hubar hits the ground not long thereafter with a clatter of metal armor.
The hobgoblins rush the remainder of the unarmed humans who have witnessed this with growls of delight. Some of the pole bearers try to fight the hobgoblins off, but this proves to be a huge mistake and those who resist are brutally cut down where they stand. Kug jumps after Hubar’s horse before it can flee from the scent of blood and the wild cries of panic. He hamstrings the beast with his sword and then proceeds to gut the screaming beast.
“Lunch’ll be ready in a few minutes, lads!” he hoots with delight, to cheers from the rest of his men that have surrounded the weeping humans.
One of the hobgoblins looks up at Shaddar and asks, “What do you want us to do with them what’s surrendered, master?”
Shaddar has gotten down from the wagon and is walking over to one of the golden chests to investigate. He waves one hand over a shoulder without even looking at the pitiful captives.
“Whatever you wish,” he says in a disinterested tone.
A raucous cheer goes up behind him and the sounds of slaughter, beatings, and abuse echo past him. He hears the leader slowly come back to consciousness and begin to mumble vague denials and pleadings. Shaddar glances at Hubar and his tentacles twitch meaningfully at the minotaur at his side. Toothsnatcher obeys at once. He stomps over to the fallen figure, kicks the fragments of the man’s sword into the ditch, and plants a cloven hoof onto Hubar’s arm to hold him still. With a throaty laugh, he beats on Hubar with the haft of his weapon, much to the delight of the hobgoblins at the ringing tones.
This seems to give Kug an idea and he yells over the tumult, “Don’t kill those music people! We needs music for marching! They will make good slaves for us!”
This idea is greeted with loud approval and the three musicians are pulled up from the ground and given their instruments back. The weeping and bleeding men are forced to play some lively music as the beatings continue for their friends.
Shaddar ignores such trivialities and opens one of the golden chests, expecting fine wines, cheeses, and perhaps even some packages of pudding. What he sees inside is very different.
The chest is filled with some of the largest saltwater pearls Shaddar has ever seen.
“This is food for the High Lord? What eats pearls?” Shaddar wonders as he trails his fingers through the chest’s contents.
Hero Hubar is moaning more in disgrace than in pain. “The shame of it!” he says, “How can I bear it?”
Shaddar nods to Toothsnatcher and Hubar is jerked to his feet. Shaddar stands before the man and spreads his arms wide to encompass the slaughter and brutality all around.
“This is what happens when I am not given my due. A pity that you fools have not yet learned to submit to my desires with all speed,” Shaddar says with a sigh. “Ah, well. You may take my message and go.”
“Go where?” the dazed human says.
“To Big City, of course. You are free to go! As I promised! Am I not kind? Am I not generous? All I ask is that you tell those who believe they rule that ‘The Boss’ took their delicacies and will likely burn them in a campfire as my forces roast some of your fine horse for a snack.”
Hero Hubar faints.
Shaddar shrugs and hops back up into his wagon. “He’ll revive soon enough. General Kug?”
“Master?”
“Finish up with whatever it is you are doing there, will you? Assign some of your men to drive these other two wagons and let’s get on with it. I’d like to reach Big City just after dusk.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 45 Chapter 47 >
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