Chapter 32 Red Lodge
RED LODGE
“Hardin,” Venrick whispered, but his voice couldn’t carry over the portal’s swirling vortex.
Hardin crawled between trees, directly behind a tall, slender magus in flowing copper robes, who had emerged behind Sasja to examine the dwarven mine entrance. Hardin rose to a crouch, side-stepping in a squat position, then crab-walking his way closer to the portal.
“What is he doing?” Venrick thought. If Hardin tried to go through the portal, the mage who created it would sense him, wouldn’t he? There would be a clear pull on the warding that was sure to be aligned with the portal… “He’s a Ward Walker, though. He’ll go through without setting it off.”
Venrick got to his feet. Smoothly and quietly, Venrick passed from tree to tree until he was just behind Hardin. Hardin caught Venrick’s eye, motioning with his head toward the open portal. Venrick drew this sword and gave Hardin a nod.
From where he stood with his back against the tree, he could see a half-moon sliver of the location where Sasja and the mage had come from. If Cheyanne’s map was to be trusted, the other side of that portal was the Northern city of Red Lodge.
“Sasja,” the magus called to her.
Venrick’s heart skipped a beat as he froze.
He stood as still as he could against the base of the tree.
Through the corner of his eye, he could just see a bit of Sasja’s figure.
She lifted her head, her attention on the mage.
From where she stood, Venrick wasn’t sure if she could see Hardin in her peripheral vision or not.
Hardin paused briefly in front of the portal, completely exposed.
“This trap was set by the wood elves for any dwarves who might come through the mines. Since the fall of the clan, I’ve been monitoring the entrances. It’s been years since any dwarf has come to this door,” the magus said.
I know that voice, but which Magus is it? Venrick thought, trying to place him without seeing his face.
“Didn’t you say that the group you stole the Hyalite from included a dwarf?” he asked.
“They did, my Lord,” Sasja replied.
“And didn’t he drive a caravan?”
“Supposedly,” she said.
“Go and see if there is a horse and wagon nearby. Maybe their companions are still hoping to get away.”
Sasja turned, sweeping her gaze across where the portal stood open. To Venrick’s surprise, she didn’t stop to call out Hardin as he stood frozen before it. Venrick’s attention had locked onto the magus and Sasja. When he checked, he saw Hardin was gone.
Did he?
Sasja distanced herself from the portal, her back to them now. The magus continued to examine the mine door. Nothing stopped Venrick from moving to the portal. His heart raced, mentally preparing to close the gap.
A shaggy brown head popped out through the other side of the portal. Hardin’s face twisted toward Venrick, a grin upturning his mustache. He waved for Venrick to come. Without a moment’s hesitation, Venrick ran. Hardin took hold of him and pulled him through.
“Sasja? What was that?” the magus said.
Venrick saw he was turning around, perhaps bothered by a strange sensation that might’ve alerted him from the portal’s magic.
Before Venrick could see his face, Sasja responded diverting his attention. “I found the horses and wagon. It’s warded shut. Nobody seems to be here.”
“Bring them with us. Whoever sprang this trap will have to pass through the abandoned mines. With those shadow terrors, I doubt they’ll make it through to the other side.”
Venrick stumbled out into a high-ceiling stone room.
On the walls hung banners rimmed in the Nordraven copper which displayed the symbols of varying orc clans.
Tapestries painting the struggle for Hyalites hung over the crackling fire in the hearth.
Before the fireplace sat a large wooden desk.
Several upholstered chairs faced the desk and the dynamic tapestry hung over the mantle.
Illuminated by natural light coming through the large, framed window to the right, Venrick could see the dragon’s destruction.
All of it, the chairs, the desk, the banners on the wall and tapestry were charred, still smoldering form Ingamar’s breath of fire sent through the portal.
“They’re coming back. We need to get out of here,” Venrick said.
“They don’t know we’re here,” Hardin said with a grin.
“The wizard felt something strange when you pulled me through. They’re coming back,” Venrick warned.
As Venrick quickly examined the room, the air swooshed. He swiveled, catching the last lines of the portal closing.
“I thought you said they were coming back?” Hardin accused.
“They were, with the…” and he realized it.
“Is that a fire fae?” Hardin said, pushing open a window. A moment later he jumped back, cringing as a shrill shriek echoed up from the street below.
“They’re coming back with the horses and wagon,” Venrick said, finishing his thought.
“These portals are going to be the death of us. I’ve seen three fire fae since I left Dagger’s Landing,” Hardin said, his mood changing.
“Odds are, staying in this room is going to be the death of us,” Venrick said, moving to the open window.
The second-story window looked out onto the snow-dusted city below.
A mix of wood- and brick-sided homes clustered around the area.
Chimneys poked out of every slate roof, wood and coal smoke adding to the hazy inversion layer that clung a hundred feet over the narrow valley.
Snowcapped peaks rose out along the northern edges, feeding a steaming river that wound through the center of the city.
Venrick looked south, toward a stone fortress.
It looked almost like a Keep, butted up against the southwest edge of the orc city.
All along the southern edge of Red Lodge, the frosted tips of the Everburning Forest emerged, transitioning from snow-ghosted trees to a sea of dark green evergreens that expanded out across the southern horizon.
Green orcs with two tusks sprouting from their lower jaws walked the streets.
They wore furs and thick, hooded cloaks as they bustled about their day.
Several ran for the dying orc whose life had been claimed by the creation of the portal.
For a moment, Venrick thought the others were going to attempt to help the orc.
But when they reached him, the group peeled off his clothing, stole his boots, and fought over the twin axes tucked in his belt.
A tall male with short, filed tusks capped with copper rings and tightly braided black hair spotted the chaos from across the street. He bellowed a throaty roar at them, shouting, “Hey you, stop what you’re doing!”
The three who’d stripped the dead orc bolted down the cobblestone street. The short-tusked orc pulled a club from his belt and chased after them, calling, “Thieves! Stop those ruffians!”
Directly under the window, Giant and Thunder walked into view. Sasja led them, her blonde hair covered with the thick blue hood of her cloak. Once stopped, she tossed out several flakes of hay from under a covered alcove, then disappeared.
“Hardin, we need to get down there now right now,” Venrick said as he tossed his leg over the windowsill and searched for a way to climb down the outside of the building.
“Did you see the way that one orc chased after the others for stealing?” Hardin said, still watching down the street.
“Yes, we all saw it happen, now it’s time to go.”
“Do you think that buck was trying to enforce their laws?” Hardin asked.
“Of course he was. Just because this is the North doesn’t mean it’s lawless,” Venrick said, climbing out onto a stone ledge barely wider than his feet.
“I never thought of the Northern cities as being, well, like ours.”
“Nordraven has four Kingdoms, Hardin. Of course they have laws. They probably have more laws than we do.”
“None of that’s in any of the songs I sing about them. It’s always, big bad orcs in the North causing chaos in the South because that’s what they do,” Hardin said as he joined Venrick on the ledge, snow scuffing off the stone.
“That’s what they do in the South because those who venture south tend to belong to their organized crime syndicates. Those criminals target us in Lamar. If everyone did that here, they wouldn’t have a flourishing society now, would they?” Venrick responded, edging his way to the corner.
“This is really peeling back layers to a place I always imagined to be harsh and rugged, not with its own culture,” Hardin said, lowering the window behind his back before following Venrick.
“Can we please stop talking about how life-changing it is being here in enemy territory and focus on getting down before that magus sees us and kills us?” Venrick said.
“Oh, yeah, good idea,” Hardin said as though he just remembered whose portal they had traveled through.
When Venrick reached the corner of the building, he carefully worked around to face toward the wall.
He then carefully lowered himself to hang off the ledge as he searched with his foot for a hold on the window framing from the first floor.
Finding enough to apply friction, he used the cracks between stones to slowly make his way onto the ledge of the first story.
He looked up at Hardin and waved for him to follow.
“How am I supposed to do that?” Hardin said.
“Just do it,” Venrick replied.
“I’m a Ward Walker, not a cliff climber.”
“Just get your butt down off that ledge. I’ll support your feet.”
Hardin maneuvered himself over the ledge, hanging by his grip only.
“There’s are windows to your right and left; spread your feet wide and press your toes up against the framing.”
“Venrick, help me. My grip is slipping.”
“Put your foot here,” Venrick said, reaching up to put Hardin’s foot in the right position. “And your other the exact same but on the right.”