Fire in the Night

"I'm certain, captain," the young gnoll whined. "They brought the half-orc here."

Grawltak stared at the rutted, muddy field. When they tracked their quarry out of the canyon to the spring, he nearly tore the throats out of his young scouts. Kark intervened, however, pointing out that while they couldn't pick up the half-orc's scent after that, the hoof prints clearly led north. Someone picked up their prey and carried it away.

"I don't understand ..." Grawltak mused aloud.

The young scout didn't dare speak, but the old lieutenant, Kark, did.

"The blood we found near the spring. We thought we hurt the half-orc. They found and captured it and brought it here."

The gnoll leader thought about this then barked in laughter as he thought of the irony. He'd nearly panicked because he thought someone helped his quarry to escape. The torn-up field and the wagon tracks, the blood they could all smell near the barn, all pointed to the same thing. No one rescued the barbarian—it was captured. When Grawltak's soft barking threatened to turn into a howl of relief, however, the gnoll felt Kark's claws touch his arm.

Light came from the farmhouse. They waited until dark to come close to the settlement, and they watched from the hedgerow.

"What now, pack-master?" the young scout asked.

Grawltak stared at him. "You, and you—" the gnoll leader pointed at another of the pups—"go search the barn. Find out if they killed it."

The chosen pair looked uneasy.

"The animals ..." one said.

Baring his teeth, Grawltak snarled. Animals, particularly farm-raised fowl and pigs, didn't like gnolls at all. They tended to make a lot of noise if they caught the scent of gnoll hunters. On any other occasion they'd be right to fear the gnoll pack. Tonight, Grawltak didn't have time to raid.

"Be certain they don't smell you, idiots!"

The wind blew from the west. It wouldn't take much time for his scouts to circle around and come in from the . . . Grawltak cursed violently. All the other gnolls nearby flattened their ears and cowered, except Kark, who nodded. To the east of the barn lay the farmhouse.

Grawltak sneered at his lieutenant and growled, "Take three more of these fools up to the farmhouse. If anyone notices anything, kill everyone. No one escapes!"

His pack, even Kark, nodded and yipped, eager to please. They'd better be. When the barbarian escaped them in the desert, Grawltak had seen death in his mistress's eyes. He was still surprised she'd punished only one of his pack, but she was in a hurry. She took the shamans after they questioned the dead—Grawltak's fur stood on edge as he remembered that—and they'd had little contact with her since. The gnoll fingered the amulet he wore and wondered if he should report in again.

No, he thought, the next time I see the mistress, the half-orc's blood will be in my mouth. I'll show her his torn throat and she will be pleased.

Despite his pack's fear of discovery, the scouting went well. None of the human farmers came out, even when one of the chickens got out of the coop and Kark snapped its neck.

"If they killed the half-orc," the scouts reported, "they didn't do it here, pack-master."

"Where is it, then?"

Wagon tracks rutted the ground and led north, toward the village.

"The ground was soft, pack-master. We can follow the tracks easily."

"Do it," Grawltak replied. Dark covered the land but the night was clear. Starlight and the sickle moon made it easy for the gnolls to see, but they could be seen, too. "Stay low and near cover."

Crouching and loping in pairs, the party of gnolls moved silently toward the village. No one marked their passing.

No one noticed the gnolls on their way from the farm because everyone not in their homes was stuffed into the Stag and Stalker's common room. Eoghan made sure everyone had something to drink—but not too much—and a few things to eat, then he took off his leather apron, handed it to his wife, and opened the cellar door.

Naull looked on from a seat near the hearth. No fire burned. She supposed they only used the fireplace on cold winter nights and those came few and far between in Durandell. Regdar sat across from her, wearing his newly-cleaned and repaired armor. She wondered why the fighter wore it now, but she didn't ask.

Ian came down from his room just as Alhandra stepped up from the root cellar. Naull looked at her in surprise. Was she down there this whole time? The paladin still wore her armor and had her sword at her side.

I guess so, Naull thought.

Ian pulled up a stool next to Naull and leaned over.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

She nodded, even though she'd had some pretty bizarre dreams. Naull didn't believe in precognition—well, except as a deliberate spell effect, of course—but she still felt uneasy.

Murmurs started as the half-orc followed Alhandra up out of the cellar. Most of the villagers were at the farm earlier, when they saw him strung up, bloody, and exhausted.

Alhandra's been busy, Naull thought. She even found him a shirt.

It was a tattered white tunic and it barely stretched across the half-orc's massive chest. He still wore his short breeches, but it looked like either he or Alhandra cleaned off most of the dirt.

At Eoghan's direction, Alhandra and Krusk moved to one of the shorter tables nearby. It stood close to the hearth but far away from any of the exits. It didn't appear to be an effort to keep the half-orc from escaping; placing him in that spot just made it easier for everyone to see him without shifting around much.

Naull and Regdar scanned the crowd but Ian watched the half-orc. He sat uneasily on a chair by the table. Alhandra whispered something to him and he seemed to relax slightly. One hand hovered near his chest.

"Regdar?"

Naull nudged her partner and he turned to face her.

"What?" he whispered.

"Has he got something there?"

Regdar squinted, though they weren't more than a dozen feet from the half-orc.

"I don't know," Regdar answered. "His stuff's over there."

He pointed to a basket containing a small pack and the half-orc's chain mail. Someone had brought it up from the cellar. Regdar propped up the barbarian's axe and bow in the corner nearest his seat.

Opening her mouth, Naull started to say something, but Eoghan thumped a block of wood on the table. He, Alhandra, and the half-orc all sat behind it. Everyone else in the inn found a seat or a post to lean on and the room grew quiet.

"This is not a trial!" Eoghan said in a loud voice. "Our... visitor hasn't done anything to be put on trial for." The innkeeper nodded along the table at the half-orc, who didn't appear to notice. Alhandra, however, inclined her head in thanks. "But we have a responsibility t'know who he is an' what he's doin' here."

Alhandra stood. "I will speak for this man," she said in a clear voice. "He answered my questions, and though I am not of your village and have no authority here, I am satisfied he means no harm and has done nothing that would threaten Durandell or any of its interests."

A few hours ago, Alhandra won over a hostile crowd on the verge of lynching the half-orc. Naull and Regdar exchanged glances and looked over the villagers in attendance. A few nodded already, as if that was good enough for them.

Okay, I'm impressed, Naull thought.

The hearing went well and quickly, though there were some incidents of interest. When Krusk—as Alhandra introduced him—told haltingly of the attack on Kalpesh and its likely fall to an army of humanoids, many of the villagers cried out in dismay. Because of the desert and the dangers of the canyon in between, Durandell had little contact with the southern city. Every so often, however, a traveler did come through, bringing stories of the exotic desert metropolis, silks, oils, and other goods not often seen in the small town. One of the inn's favorite decorations was an oddly-shaped oil lamp that hung above the fireplace. It had a foreign appearance with its long neck and more than a few villagers looked up at it when they heard of the storming of the city.

No one asked how or why Krusk and a few other men and women from the city escaped. All assumed those refugees fled in fear of their lives, or perhaps in a desperate but doomed effort to find help. Ian frowned, however, and Naull exchanged a look with the half-elf. They both met Alhandra's eyes as she helped Krusk relate the story of the battle at the edge of the desert. Naull almost let out an audible gasp when she saw the paladin shake her head, almost imperceptibly, as their eyes met. The two locked gazes until Naull shut her mouth and nodded slowly.

There's more to this, she thought. She turned to Regdar to tell him, but then several things happened at once.

Crockery smashed against the floor as the innkeeper's wife Lexi looked up and screamed. She'd been moving through the crowd with a jug of small beer, refilling cups as needed when, with a crash of glass and fire, a lantern smashed through one of the windows on the front wall of the inn. Glass and oil splattered across two villagers and a ball of flame erupted on the hardwood floor. A flaming arrow shot through the open door of the inn, narrowly missing a tall man in a fur tunic. It struck the far wall above the bar and kept burning.

The villagers cried out in fear, shock, and in a few cases, pain. Everyone started moving at once. A few jumped behind the bar, others tried to scramble away from the fire, some even bolted toward the door.

"Stay inside!" Regdar shouted to those few.

He started jumping in that direction, but Early, who had entered the inn only a few moments before, got in his way.

Two more fiery arrows shot through the door. One hit the far wall and snapped. The other embedded itself in a villager's chest. She had just stepped into the center of the doorway, meaning to dash out into the darkness. Instead, she collapsed backward, a look of shock on her face. The flame on the arrow shaft sputtered and died, drowned in blood oozing up from the wound.

"Get down!" Regdar shouted.

He turned to Eoghan. The innkeeper's look of anguish and confusion showed he might have some experience settling disputes and leading his neighbors, but none in battle.

"Get down!" Regdar repeated. "Flip up that table and get behind it!"

Eoghan obeyed and Alhandra helped him push over the table into a barricade. Other villagers did the same with other tables. Ian leaped to the side of the smashed window, slamming the inside shutters closed. An arrow, this time unlit, smashed through a crack in the wood bare inches from his hand while he fumbled with the bar. Another villager went down with an arrow in his thigh, but he managed to push the inn's door closed with his shoulder.

"Upstairs!" Naull cried.

Too many people were packed into one room. If their unknown attackers threw in more oil, someone else would die.

There was a stampede for the stairs, and a few of the smaller folk were nearly trampled. Early scooped up a halfling man and helped him to the stairs.

"Who are they? What do they want?" Eoghan panted from behind the upturned table.

His wife, who had scrambled behind the bar after dropping her tray and collapsing, made her way to his side. Both husband and wife looked pale and shaken.

Regdar shook his head and took stock of the room. Nearly all the villagers were upstairs, spread through the rooms. He saw Ian crouching by the closed window and swore.

"The window in our room! Ian, it's open."

The half-elf nodded and said, "I need to get my weapons, anyway."

He looked over at Naull and headed toward the stairs.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Early's shout made Ian stop at the base of the stairs, but Regdar signaled for him to keep going.

The cry was directed at Krusk, who was moving toward his weapons and armor. The half-orc didn't even pause as Early moved toward him. Alhandra tried to step between them but the big man raised his sword threateningly.

"He's still a prisoner, isn't he?" Early shouted. The big man looked grim.

Krusk yanked his chain shirt down over his chest but Early put a hand out when the half-orc reached for his axe. Krusk's right hand balled into a fist.

"Stop it!" Naull cried out.

They both looked at her.

"We don't have time for this," the wizard said. She turned to Regdar and asked, "What do we do, boss?"

For a moment, Regdar looked flustered, then he shook his head and pointed to the innkeeper.

"Eoghan," he said, "get every container you can find filled with water. Is the back door locked?"

Eoghan shook his head in shock, but stood up. He started toward the back, then stopped and turned.

"I'll get it, dear," Lexi said, almost as if she was talking about a pie in the oven, then she struggled to her feet and hustled toward the back of the inn.

Eoghan nodded and began handing out jugs and pitchers to the few villagers who still remained on the ground floor.

"Get some of the water upstairs. Thank Pelor the roof isn't thatched," the innkeeper said. He knew the wood slats would burn quickly if more flaming oil went up there, but they could only do their best. With a puzzled look on his face, he turned toward Naull and asked, "Why've they stopped?"

It was true. No more arrows thunked against the door or the walls. They still heard howling outside, but that was all.

"I don't know," she answered.

After seeing to it that Early moved away to help one of the fallen villagers, she'd helped Krusk get into the rest of his armor.

"They want me," Krusk said.

His axe balanced deftly in his big hands and a dark expression clouded his face. He moved toward the door. Nearly everyone stepped out of his way, but Alhandra intercepted him.

"No, Krusk, you can't."

"No more running," the half-orc rumbled.

The paladin started to argue, but a loud baying from outside the inn cut her off. It was loudest just outside the front door, but answering yelps and howls seemed to echo from all around. Then it all stopped, suddenly.

"Come out, half-orc!" a canine voice howled from in front of the inn. It sounded almost like more baying, but the words were clear. "Come out and give us what we want! Come out, or we'll burn you out, you and your new friends!"

Barking laughter rose again, and through the slits of the shutters and cracks of the door they could see many small fires in the courtyard. Torches, lanterns, all moving, all dancing just beyond the wooden walls of the inn.