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Corners - A Fragment
Eventually, the sounds of the Orcs died away, but I still waited for a few moments before moving, as I wasn’t sure I could still stand up.
My Cloak had kept me hidden during most of the fight, and its aftermath, but I was still wary. The Orcs knew I was missing. They would be on their guard, and so would Venger.
I pushed myself up, using the wall to hang on to, making sure I wasn’t going to faint, even though I’d never felt so weakened and scared in my whole life. The knife I’d picked up scraped against the stones, making me jump.
I don’t know how long I stood there, hardly daring to move. Groups of Orcs marched past every few minutes or so. But there wasn’t much time, and I knew that if I was going to help Hank, I had to get moving.
The thought of him, captured by the Orcs was the image that finally forced me to leave my hiding place. I couldn’t give up; not while there was a chance he was still alive. And he would be still alive, at least for a while. The Orcs had had the opportunity to kill him, but they didn’t. Instead they wasted time and effort, and risked letting the rest of us escape. It was clear that Venger had given them strict orders.
It had been a trap, of course. We had let ourselves be draw inside the castle with one more promise of Home. Why we had abandoned sense and gone charging in without thinking was beyond me. We had been so careful.
I’m not sure why I was drawn back to the scene of our destruction, perhaps it was because it was the last place I’d seen him. The Great Hall of the Castle, where we’d fought, was quiet and no one had moved the bodies, except to take the Weapons. It was like a picture painted in red, black and white with the only splash of colour from the clothes of my dead friends.
If I was going to find Hank, I had to go across to the far side; that was the way they had taken him. But it wasn’t going to be easy. I was invisible, true, but I could still leave footprints, or worse, get blood on my shoes and leave a trail that any Orc could follow.
I moved to one side where the path was clearest, and struggled over the steps and chairs and tables that had been knocked over.
I moved silently; I’d had my Cloak for years, and my skills as a Thief had improved enormously over time. When I wanted to, or needed to I could be as silent as the grave.
Then there was a tiny sound. I was concentrating so hard I almost missed it.
A breath. A whisper. The sound of life.
At first hope sprang in my heart that one of my two dead friends had survived; but logic quashed that hope before it had a chance to mature. No. There was no hope for either of them. I knew that. I’d seen what the Orcs had done. I’d been right there, unable to help.
The sound came again; a breath and a whisper of air. It came from close beside me.
Something was there. I could hear it! It sounded like breathing, but quick and shallow like an exhausted animal. I took a cautious step forward, listening as hard as I could.
The sound was coming from a nook in the wall.
I paused, listening once more. There was no mistaking it. There was someone hiding there.
I crept closer, aware that even though I was invisible, I could still give myself away. Perhaps I should have gone on without stopping, but I didn’t. I leaned against the wall, resting for a moment, then I moved as close to the alcove as I could.
Someone was there. Someone… Eric!
He’d survived.
My heart almost stopped.
I could see him huddled up in the farthest corner, pressed tight against the far wall as if trying to push himself through it. Even then, after everything that had happened, it amazed me that he could always find somewhere to hide; no matter what that was the one thing that could be relied on.
He was shaking, maybe no more than I was, whiter than death and staring fixedly out into the room to where the two others lay.
For a moment I was nearly sick again, then the blinding rage overcame the nausea.
I hated him. I should have turned him over to the Orcs myself as equal payment, and revenge!
I blamed him. They were dead because of him.
Bobby had gone, Uni had made sure he was safe. Even though he’d stood to fight, Uni had known what to do; she and I think in the same way when it comes to my brother. But Presto and Diana were dead. Quick, no fuss, no lingering wait for The End like Hank had ahead of him. They had both died within minutes of each other, struggling against the tide of Orcs as Hank dragged off.
Where had Eric been then? How could he have turned his back on them? How could he have just run away?
I remembered the knife in my hand, and my grip on the weapon grew tighter. But I didn’t move.
There was Hank to think of. Who knew what terrible fate was waiting for him in Venger’s dungeon. And his fate was in the hands of his cowardly friend. The realisation struck me hard: He was as good as dead.
Though I faced despair, I couldn’t give up.
There was very little I could do for Hank on my own; with Eric’s help I might be able to free him. A slender hop; a Fool’s hope even, but it was the only hope I had.
I watched the ashen-faced Cavalier, wondering what he was thinking, Eric blamed himself; I could see that in his eyes. I blamed him too, it was easy to think that, if he’d been faster, if he’d been paying more attention, then this disaster wouldn’t have happened.
I heard a muffled scream for far away. I knew in my heart that it was Hank. Eric heard it too. He shuddered. I saw his expression change and tears slide down his cheek.
I knew he would help me if I asked. He was many things, but he would never abandon us completely. At least, I hoped he wouldn’t. But then I had misjudged thing so badly over the previous few days that I was no longer certain of anything.
I stepped forward to talk to him, but I didn’t pull back my Cloak. He sensed something was there as he suddenly looked up. Never before had he seemed so lost and lonely. The wild, uncomprehending look in his eye almost made me feel sorry for him.
Had I known what was ahead, I would have taken his hand and run as far and as fast as I could; I’d have run all the way back to Dungeonmaster.
I smothered my pity with anger. I hated him even more; he always made it so easy to hate. But I didn’t let myself descend into revenge. The only thing I could do now was help him pull himself together enough to rescue Hank.
That was going to be the difficult part.