But just as Grim took a step towards his opponent, thinking he had the upper hand, an almighty force slammed him away. He wobbled, somehow staying on his feet, as he spied a spear protruding from Og’s shoulder. His brother dropped his pike, then cried out in agony as Dog ripped the spear out.
Grim looked up to see their assailant. The ranger held the crystal sword. Behind him, Gurin was sat against the wall, face pale, his hands clutched about his belly where dark red blood pumped from a wound. Nearby, Brother Kane cowered on the floor beside the thief’s body, whose head was almost completely detached from his shoulders.
‘Go!’ the ranger shouted, and he and the knight ran for the exit to the room.
‘After them!’ said Brother Kane. ‘I’ll tend to the fallen.’
Grim chased after the two adventurers. The knight was already in the corridor. Behind him, the ranger found his legs taken from him as Assata kicked out from her position on the floor. Moving too fast to right himself, the ranger went down, the crystal sword leaving his grip and skittering across the floor. Turning at the noise, the knight reached down to grab the sword. For a moment he looked at Og-Grim-Dog bearing down on them and obviously decided his friend was lost, because he turned back to the corridor and ran.
Dog’s mace came down on the ranger’s head as Grim ran past. There was only the knight left, now. But he held the weapon that could kill the Dark Lord, and despite his heavy armour, and for all Grim tried, the knight was faster, too. Og’s spear wound was stealing his stamina—his breathing heavy now, and his legs aquiver.
The knight stopped at a door along the corridor. Barging it open, he charged inside.
Following behind, Grim felt a shiver of apprehension. He had no idea where the Dark Lord was—but the knight seemed to. Grim reached the door and entered the room.
It looked like he was too late. The Dark Lord faced the knight—his own, dark metallic sword against the rose-coloured crystal. The contest played out as Grim tried to reach them. The Dark Lord reached forwards, but his blade was too high, and it was easy for the knight to get down on one knee and sink the crystal sword point-first into the Dark Lord’s midriff.
Only then did Grim get Dog within range, his brother connecting with the knight’s helmet in a brutal backhand swipe that sent him crashing to the floor.
The Dark Lord clutched at the crystal blade and sank to his knees. He looked up at Og-Grim-Dog.
And then he laughed.
‘A clever trick, don’t you think?’ he said between chuckles.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Grim.
‘There is no bane,’ he said, sliding the crystal out of his body with a gasp of pain. ‘Just a ruse to distract them from their real task. It worked quite well, no?’
Grim had to admit it had worked, though he couldn’t help feeling that he and his brothers had been deceived, too.
‘I hope you will forgive me,’ said the Dark Lord, perhaps sensing the feelings of his henchman. ‘But for such a ruse to work, everyone has to believe it. Not even Lilith knew. Now, I do hope Brother Kane survived the confrontation. Even though it’s no bane, this weapon does leave a bit of a sting.’
Brother Kane’s ministrations worked wonders. Even Gurin, whose injury would normally have taken his life, was set fair to make a full recovery within a few days. Grim was sure that Og’s spear wound would have left him with a permanent disability without the cleric’s attentions. Assata was back on her feet with no harm done and Simba was told to rest until his concussion had worn off.
All of which meant that the attack from the Bureau’s adventurers, which had seemed so dangerous, had only cost the lives of around a hundred menials. Despite the Dark Lord’s outward show of grief over these losses, no-one seriously thought it amounted to much of a loss. While the henchmen had dealt with the intruders upstairs, Lilith had won her battle with the enchantress and her charmed menials—the woman was dead by the time Grim had staggered down the stairs to investigate the scene.
In the end, however, the attack from the Bureau resulted in one more loss from Fell Towers. Assata called a meeting of her old friends. Brother Kane insisted it be held in Gurin’s chamber, since the dwarf was not allowed to leave his bed yet.
‘I’m leaving,’ said the barbarian in her direct way. ‘I was going to go anyway, after the wedding, but I can’t stay here now. Do none of you feel even a shred of dishonour at slaughtering adventurers from Mer Khazer? It wasn’t long ago that they were your colleagues, after all. It could have been any one of us who had come here.’
Grim really wasn’t sure what he thought anymore. He knew that one of his brothers felt the same way as Assata and that the other didn’t. He was caught in the middle, as ever.
‘Oh, spare us the shame game,’ Gurin retorted, propped up in his bed. ‘You know very well that the Bureau has driven the likes of me and Og-Grim-Dog out. Where were these ‘colleagues’ of ours when we needed their support? What did they expect might become of us?’
‘None of which makes what you are doing right. I know I regret my own actions.’ Assata turned to Brother Kane with a dark look. ‘And all the time you were a member of our dungeoneering party, you were secretly serving someone else. You would have betrayed every one of us if you’d been ordered to.’
Brother Kane gave Assata a beatific smile. ‘Accept a blessing—’ he began, fumbling for his vial of holy water.
Assata slapped at his hands. ‘Spare me that fake act. You saved my life in Deepwood Dungeon. Were it not for that debt, I would be sorely tempted to strike you down right now. But this warning goes for all of you. By serving the Dark Lord you’re willing to kill any of your former friends if ordered to do so. Know this. If we find ourselves on opposite sides in the future, I will be just as ready to do the same to you.’
With that, Assata left Fell Towers. Og held his tongue and stayed, though Grim knew he would have chosen to go with her.
A part of Grim felt the same way. But Assata had the Bureau and the Resistance. She belonged elsewhere. Og-Grim-Dog didn’t belong anywhere but here.
A Face in the Flames
Everyone at Fell Towers was now counting down the days to the wedding. The Dark Lord had a spring in his step. Princess Borte seemed increasingly quiet, perhaps resigned to her fate. Grim knew that she didn’t want to be the wife of the Dark Lord. But he thought getting the wedding over with might actually do her good. She’d leave her cell in the basement behind, and become the Dark Lady.
Gurin’s prolonged convalescence meant that Og-Grim-Dog had taken on some of the dwarf’s duties as head of security. They frequently patrolled the walls of Fell Towers, keeping an eye on things. The attempt by the Bureau to stop the wedding had failed, but there was still the possibility that agents of the Kuthenian Empire might attempt to rescue the princess. And, the truth was, they had little faith in the menials to defend the stronghold without some help.
It was on one of their rounds, about the time afternoon turned into evening, that Dog caught sight of two figures leaving the stronghold via the postern gate.
‘That’s not the Dark Lord,’ he commented, pointing down.
Indeed, they were used to seeing the Dark Lord using the gate for his cliffside walks. But not anyone else. From their vantage point, it wasn’t hard to tell who it was. The first, even though she wore a drab looking cloak with the hood up, had the unmistakeable shapely figure of a woman; the other, long white hair that caught in the breeze.