Page 93 of Elvenbred

“I don’t understand.”

A memory of earthworms digging into the ground, then a memory of earthworms wriggling on the portico after a rain. She was puzzled at first, then made the connection … the extrusions were like earthworms, and the pavement of the portico from her memory was … too hard to dig through.

“This would be a lot easier if you could talk,” she said. “Let me see.”

She approached the bars, starting with the small door that the guards opened to bring food and take away her soiled clothing. She studied the lock for a while, working out its mechanism. Basic. Designed to close animal cages. She’d opened similar locks as a child. She knew the tool she would need.

She rose and went to the remains of the hopper where Rock’s “food” had continued to fall. She rummaged around the debris for a bit, before she found a bronze nail she could bend to her will.

Humming happily, she used her magic to straighten the nail and stretch it out, making a simple tool with a hook that could slide into the lock. Now properly equipped, the lock yielded up its secrets in a few heartbeats. She opened the door to the cage, and stepped out. The door was sized for something elf-sized, and there would be no way for Rock to get free.

She could leave him. He was free now. Presumably his friends could get him out without hurting him. Or could they? If the rods had been able to penetrate his carapace … all that rock coming down on top of him … might crush him.

Might ….

No. I can’t take that chance. He freed me. Now I have to pay him back by really freeing him.

“How did they bring you in?”

Rock shifted, and began using its extrusions to trace an area. She quickly shuffled out of its way as it traced a path. “I don’t understand … wait, I do see. The small door is set inside a larger cage door.” Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the outline of the larger door. The large animal entrance topped thrice her height, and took up an entire section of the wall. She could just make out its edges, where the bars of the door fused with the bars on either side.

She would not defeat this lock with a bronze fibber-key, and the spell-work was beyond her. No lock was undefeatable, though … if you had the key.

“All right, I need to get the control for these doors. I’ll be right back.” No response from Rock. It occurred to her that her thoughts might not be altogether private. “I will be back. I just need to find the control.”

No response.

She started for the door, and had crossed halfway through the stables when she turned back. “I need a weapon.” Rock shuffled back, still testing different portions of the bars. She saw the shovel she had used to feed Rock, lying where she had dropped it. The handle. A club. She picked the shovel up, tested it to use it to chop, then gave that idea up. Too awkward. She slid the shovel between two of the bars and pulled back with all her strength. She heard the handle creak and flex, but no luck. “A little help?” she asked Rock. He shuffled over. She stepped back out of his way as his weight took the strain of the shovel. It snapped, with no more effort than she might use to break a toothpick.

“Show-off,” she grumbled.

She scooped up the wooden piece and made for the stable doors. The shovel handle made a club as long as her arm, with a nice heft. She gave it a couple of practice swings as she walked, getting a feeling for its weight. She knew the work feeding Rock had made her stronger, and she could feel her strength in her swings. She grinned. She might not be up to taking on one of her gladiators, but she felt ready for whatever might come.

She got to the heavy stable doors. She hadn’t really paid attention to them before, but they appeared to be twin slabs of wood and bronze; thick wooden planks held together with bronze straps, actually. She backed up a couple of steps and could see the tops of the doors had wheels that fitted into a track, and would roll to the side when opened. She tried to open the first one, then the other. Another child’s-play lock. Her small fibber-key made short work of this lock as well, and she eased one door open, just a crack where she could see out. She was careful to stand to one side, which limited her view to an angle, but which kept her from being seen straight on.

The thick doors had blocked all sound from outside. Outside, all hell had broken loose. She could hear a cacophony of sounds, shouts and cries, heavy metal parts moving, doors opening and closing, and a steady din of running feet. She could make out shouts and calls from the elves in this part of Haldeen’s estate. She could hear the fear in their voices as they yelled back and forth … some kind of leader demanding the Machina get up onto the wall. She eased back as several elves went running by, each with an armload of bronze tubes. The firelances? She considered whether making a side trip for one of those would be worthwhile, but gave the idea up. I don’t know how to use them, and I doubt they come with instructions. She heard the heavy clank, clank, clank of a heavy tread and went back to where she could see. Three metal machines came up a wide and high-ceiling hallway, and tramped their way up a stone ramp, followed by a mixed bag of troops in military kit and others wearing gray work clothes who might have been machine tenders of some sort. That way is out. Just follow the metal monsters.

She waited a few dozen heartbeats. The sound levels dropped considerably. The three Machina and the mixed-parts platoon seemed to have sent most of those in this part of Haldeen’s compound up to have their share of fun. She had just opened the door to slip out when another half dozen or so guards ran down the ramp, and up the hallway. This group included a couple with blood-spattered clothing and hasty bandages on arms and heads. Triana could see their fearful expressions and flushed, sweaty faces. Rock’s friends have arrived. She waited a minute more until they came running back, all carrying more of the bronze tubes. She cursed to herself. She hadn’t counted them when they came in, and though she was pretty sure they had all gone back out, she couldn’t be sure. Stupid. Stupid. The footsteps faded in the distance as the last group went up the ramp. She looked back down the hallway. It looked to be about fifty paces, with a turn to the right. Simple doors opened off the hallway at intervals. The guardroom would be close to the stables. Hopefully.

She could still hear a lot of noise, thumps and bangs of doors opening and distant shouts, but none seemed close. Time to go.

She made her way through the rolling stable door, closing it behind her. She crept up the hallway, checking doorways. Most were locked, with each requiring time and the fibber-key. She got past each lock, and opened each door in turn. Most of the hallway doors led to offices of one sort or another, though one room contained nothing but ledgers on shelves. The unlocked doors held equipment of various sorts, some long forgotten and dusty. One locked room had piles of clean uniforms, perhaps just back from a laundry. She quickly shucked her shift for trews, a loose tunic, and a cloak that she quickly drew up. She looked for something to put onto her feet, but saw no shoes or boots about. She still went barefoot, but she certainly felt a lot less conspicuous than she’d had before she found the laundry room.

She ducked back out into the hall, still looking for a guardroom. She didn’t know the layout well, and didn’t want to get turned around, and be unable to find her way back. So, not near the stables. Still, a few more doors to check, then try her luck upwards. She jogged to the corner, trying to act as though she was just another one of Haldeen’s soldiers performing a task, albeit without shoes. She made the turn and nearly blundered into three-elves loading a cart with more of the bronze tubes. How did I not hear them?

Behind them, down this hall were a number of large doors, the same size as those on the stables. The … what had the officer called the … the Machina bays?

“You, lend a hand, will you?” the oldest one said, looking at her. She thought about making a break for it, then reconsidered. She needed to be unobtrusive, and nothing was more unobtrusive than minions performing a task. She pointed to herself. He nodded, and pointed to the room with a heavy stone and metal door. She saw the word Armory written in a neat, and definitely feminine hand, over the top. She nodded quickly, and queued up behind the others. One looked at her feet, then glanced up. “Lot of that going around. The Creatures caught us all napping. Mind your toes, you cripple a foot, you’re Predator-food. They move fast.” He laughed. “You can put that stick down. Nothing will get you in here.” Triana nodded, and did as she was bid, leaning her club against the wall. “Get an armload of firelances and put them on the cart.” She nodded again, and followed the soldier into the armory.

The room had held rack upon rack of the bronze tubes. Most had already been taken, and the cart would carry most of what was left. There, though, next to a flickering mage-light, and painted on a piece of wood that had been affixed to the wall, were the instructions, drawn as a series of pictures. Simple and easy to follow … check behind you to make sure it’s clear, place the tube on your shoulder, sight down along the tube, summon up your magic as fire, say the simple three word incantation. Drop the (now very hot) tube before you get burned. Repeat as needed, until you run out of tubes or monsters. Return the tube to the armorers for respelling.

She gathered up as many of the firelance tubes as she could carry and followed the small group back out. Hers were the last to go on the cart. The leader, some kind of subaltern or sier-jant, quickly organized them to push the cart back up the hallway and up the ramp. He took a look at her bare feet, the wheels, and the unstable pile of firelances on the cart. “You. Follow along behind and pick any of the ’lances that drop. We need every warm, unhurt body right now. Even if you can’t fight, you can haul stuff to those that can.”

She nodded again, content to follow as the three of them pushed, pulled and tugged the cart back up the hallway. She picked up her stick as she went, which drew an amused glance from one.

“Good luck with that,” he said.

She followed behind them, picking up the bronze tubes that fell off the cart, until she had an armload, and had to use her chin to hold them steady. Once they turned to go up the ramp, another tube rolled off. Triana bent to pick it up, though she already held as many as she thought could carry. “Leave it,” the officer said. She followed behind, up a ramp, along another massive hall, and up another ramp. This one ended on a broad floor and a cavernous overhead. A short tunnel connected the open hall to the bright outside daylight. She followed the soldiers and cart through the tunnel and outside into a stone paved open ground.