"How are we supposed to get off the island when we return?" the barbarian asked.
Another round of laughter rippled through the orc ranks as the chieftain spoke again.
"She doesn't expect us to survive," the youth muttered.
"I've survived more than my fair share of dungeons," he answered firmly. "Which is not to say I won't die, but I always make plans based on my survival.”
The orc looked like she understood and nodded.
"We can buy the dinghy from them if we make it out," the dwarf translated again. "But we'll need our supplies. You can have the boat but we need what's inside."
It took Skharr longer than he would have admitted before he realized that his companion had directed the last two statements at the chieftain, who nodded and motioned for them to bring the dinghy up.
"Well…that went smoother than expected," he said as they began to unload the supplies from the small craft. "How do you think they learned sign language?"
"I assume the fisher villages might have taught it to them as a way of communicating," Brahgen surmised although he didn't sound convinced that this was the right explanation.
Even so, the barbarian had a feeling the orcs were only willing to grant them safe passage because there was something on the island they needed killed as well.
There wasn't much in the world that scared an orc into compliance. Dragons were all he knew that they feared openly. A few tribes even worshipped the creatures.
Which meant there was likely something even worse waiting for them in their adventure.
Once the dinghy was secured on the side of the orc ship, the large vessel began to turn toward the land that became more visible as the orcs rowed toward it.
"So there was no need to steal from the orc tribes, then?" Brahgen asked. "What level of thief is a negotiator?"
"Among the highest, although that skill is necessary for any who wish to stay alive long enough to be among the most accomplished in the profession."
It was soon apparent that their destination wasn’t one of the villages and instead, they simply steered toward one of the nearest beaches, which was covered in what looked like black sand. The rowers pushed harder and the ship was thrust onto the beach, and a handful of the orcs leapt out and dragged it onto the sand and fully out of the water.
No more weapons pointed at them, not even when Skharr collected their weapons again and climbed out.
If he were to guess, he would have thought they had more dangerous things to worry about. This was annoying in its own right, as he much preferred to be the most dangerous thing in any region he happened to be in.
A number of them gathered their crossbows and spoke quickly in the guttural language he was starting to get used to hearing. None of them made any of the gestures that Brahgen would be able to translate, unfortunately. Still, their demeanor and the way they held themselves in readiness were fairly universal—something was out there and they anticipated that it would attack them directly on the beach.
None of the orcs stopped him as he hefted his bow, strung it quickly, and selected three arrows from his quiver.
Brahgen looked around. "What's happening?"
One of the orcs signed something to him deftly. This one was better at it than the chieftain, and the dwarf took a step back.
"What did he say?" Skharr asked.
"He said that they follow the ships and attack them when they land," the youth answered. "He didn't mention who they were."
"I think we are about to find out," he responded and nocked an arrow to the bowstring when he discerned movement deep in the mists.
There was no mistaking the clattering in the street. A group of horses had ridden up outside the Guild Hall and raised a clamor that couldn’t be ignored. Chano grunted and pushed out of his seat when he realized that the mercenaries all hurried to find out what the disturbance was about.
There were few real rules in this corner of the world, and if he didn't take steps to resolve the situation before it escalated, he had a feeling they would have a fight on their hands.
The guildmaster moved quickly out the door to where a group of ten or so horsemen had gathered outside. A few of them looked like they had sustained wounds and weren’t likely to continue riding, but the others appeared uninjured and like they were ready for a fight.
One dismounted quickly and marched to where Chano calmly struck flint over steel to light his pipe.
"Are you the guildmaster in this backwater hole?" the man asked as he removed his helm.
"Aye, and I advise you to not call it a backwater hole again. I'd like to see what happens to you if you do."
The stranger smirked and ran his fingers through his long, golden locks to loosen them where the helm had flattened them against his head.
"A giant barbarian and a small dwarf came this way not too long ago. Do you remember them?"
"Aren't all dwarves small?" one of the local mercenaries asked.
"Aye, but this one would be smaller than usual."
"I’ve not seen enough dwarves to know which are too large or too small," Chano admitted. "But a barbarian of some size passed through here with a dwarf as his companion. Do you have business with the man?"
"You could say that." The golden-haired fighter looked at the rest of his troop. "He has a weapon of great value in his possession that belongs to us. Tell us where the man hid himself and there will be no more trouble."
"It is odd that a man who obtained a weapon of great value would choose to put himself on the path to suicide," one of the mercenaries muttered.
"Suicide?"
Chano shrugged. "They went to find a dungeon on Groll Oak Orc Island. It’s covered in orcs and heavens knows what else might be prowling there. Frankly, it does not seem like the action of a man with a treasure of a weapon in his possession."
"And yet he has done it," the mercenary snapped before he turned to his men. "Gather supplies, regroup, and we'll leave as soon as we are physically able to do so. Go!"
The men hastened to obey the command of their leader and mounted up immediately to find a trader where they could buy supplies.
"Well, it seems we have more than a few who are willing to throw their lives away," the guildmaster muttered and shook his head. At least the group hadn’t attempted to start any fights, although some of his mercenaries certainly looked like they were ready to retaliate at the slightest provocation. The villagers would never forgive him if that happened.
Chapter Ten
The monsters that moved through the mist seemed almost reluctant to attack once they realized the group was waiting for them, but it wasn't long before a loud, sustained roar echoed through the fog and they began to edge closer.
Skharr still couldn't see enough of them to enable any kind of accuracy, but he drew his bow and felt the weight of it on his back as he held his aim. With as much patience as he could muster, he waited for one of the creatures to finally show itself.
When it did, there wasn't much thought involved in the process of selecting his target at almost fifty yards over the black sand beach before he loosed the arrow.
It streaked toward the creature with enough power to cut it down before it could take another step. He’d made a decent shot, especially in the circumstances. At first glance, it looked like it was vaguely humanoid, but when it toppled, he could see a thick, sinuous tail that whipped violently in its death throes.