Bori had not expected this much trouble. A stern warning, someone following them for a while, maybe even some roughing up. But now here they were, chained with at least a dozen other patrons at the bar, finally taking a rest. They had been walking down the forest road in the rain, which was getting stronger, back towards Wallborne Castle. By now the sun was set, and they had been walking for the last hour by the light of torches carried by Voldir's men. Sizing them up, Bori guessed maybe three of the prisoners had dealt with any criminals, at all, ever, and even one of them had a reformed look about him. All the others had trudged along in a bewildered, frightened state, and it was obvious to anyone with experience that they were not criminals. This Voldir was no Sheriff, no protector of anyone. He was a thug, and this was a scare tactic.
Sitting next to him, Whiskers glared at Bori sidelong through his thick-lensed glasses and whisper to him harshly, "Well, when's the big breakout, ye durned empty-headed excuse fer a ban ..." he paused mid-word, noting a guard moving towards them, and finished instead with, "... a dancer?" The guard said nothing as he passed Whiskers and Bori, just rapped them both hard on their shoulders with his cudgel.
Bori grunted and rubbed his shoulder, but Whiskers didn't make a sound. Spitting on the ground with disdain after the guard passed, he whispered, "Dad whacked me harder'n that fer stealin' cookies, ye wicker-armed wuss."
Gordon spoke up on the other side, still in a whisper, "I'm curious, too, Bori ... you told us who you were and I think now it's time to prove it. I hear bad things about Kaldurst prisons, lately ..."
Bori rubbed the dagger in his hidden wrist sheath and smiled to himself. The guards had searched him once and had not felt the need to do so again. These soldiers had a fully armed prisoner in their midst and had no idea. This would have been easy ... except that he had to get his friends out, too. He was just now realizing all the potential complications that came with that.
He could still do it. He looked forward to it, in fact. It sounded like a challenge. He brushed aside the worry that always came to him, the nagging doubt that his plan wouldn't be good enough this time, and set his mind to work on an escape.
Only the worry wouldn't quite leave him. It didn't really hinder his thinking, but it wouldn't go away. Bori had always worked alone before ... it was a strange feeling having to take care of others, too.
"Not to worry, my friends," he said very quietly, still smiling to himself as he inspected the chains and watched the soldiers set up camp on the side of the road. "We won't be here long."
The three sat deep in the brush to the side of the road, watching their decoy. Gordon had sweet-talked one of the guards into getting them some blankets. Bori had opened Whiskers' bindings, first, and the dwarf picked some branches and stones to put under the blankets while the dancer woked the other two locks. Not even the prisoners on either side had noticed, and Bori doubted anyone would until dawn.
Still, they had to make sure ...
"Shouldn't we be going?" whispered Gordon.
"I want to make sure it's working," answered Bori.
"The daft-headed guard passed it twice already, Bori," said an impatient Whiskers, who was selecting a good club from the branches on the ground. "Ye waitin' fer him t' ask it fer a song?"
"Three times and we'll know they're not coming after us," said Bori. "If they DO come after us, I want to know right away." The guard passed it a third time. "Okay, let's go."
The forest was soon almost pitch black, for they had left the campfires on the road far behind, and rainclouds still obscured the moon. The three formed a chain, with Whiskers walking in the lead. Dwarves, underground creatures, have a natural ability to see in complete darkness, and Whiskers used it to guide them through the obstacles of the woods.
"What is it I'm lookin' fer?" asked the dwarf.
"Trees, so you don't run into them," said Bori, right behind him.
Gordon snickered.
"Duck, Bori," said Whiskers.
"What?" asked Bori, a moment too late. He walked his head right into a pine branch that was too high for the short, stocky dwarf. Rainwater in the branch's needles showered over all three of them. Gordon stiffled a laugh as Bori rubbed his head and the group came to a halt.
"Ow!" said Bori. "That's just great. I get us out and you lead my face into the first low branch you see."
"I see plenty more ahead, too," responded Whiskers. "'Less ye want to walk through all of them, I'd like t' know where we're stopping."
Bori sighed. "I don't rightly know. A place we can sleep unseen, I guess."
"All I needed t' know. Get in line, I'll find us a campsite."
Gordon moved to get behind Bori again, but Bori pushed the minstrel ahead of him. "Your turn, lute-boy. Next time he gets fiesty, you can taste the sawdust."
The trio moved through the woods for some time, Whiskers in the lead grumbling softly about possible places to bed down. The rain had just stopped, when suddenly a soft white light lit up behind them.
"Bori," said Gordon, turning around and immediately shielding his eyes, "if it was safe for light why didn't you ..." The light suddenly vanished, as did the feel of Bori's hand on the minstrel's shoulder. Gordon shook Whiskers' shoulder. "Whiskers! Whiskers, can you see Bori?"
"I thought he was right ..." Whiskers turned to look, but saw nothing through his dark-vision except the empty forest. "... Bori?"