Chapter Thirty

Taken In Chains

They all come to with a start, coughing their guts out. They try and remember where they are, what happened. Then they notice that they are wet, drenched in water. They look down. Where is their armor? They are dressed in just your underclothes. Their weapons too, even Jihan's hidden daggers, Link and Recht, gone. They try to move, but their legs feel heavy and they hear the clink of iron against iron as they try and move them. They're bound in legirons. They have no idea how long it has been since they fell unconscious.

They look around them. The kitchen is filled with strangers. Well, mostly strangers. One of the strangers they recognize immediately as being Sklad, who is holding an empty pail in his hands and next to him is his goblin sidekick, Skrin. They are both smiling, big ugly smiles showing all of their sharp teeth. Smug smiles that seem to say 'Gotcha'!

Behind them is a row of goblins, all of them armed with spears, which they hold just inches from the party's faces. The room seems to be filled with them, there must be ten of them at least. In front of the goblins are another three strangers. To the left of the party is the biggest orc that they have ever seen in their lives, wearing ostentatious banded armor underneath a thick white wolf pelt. His face is only just visible behind an ornate helmet, on top of which is a grinning white wolf's head.

To their right is a large goblin whose gray skin shows the fact that he is venerable by goblin standards. He is wearing chainmail, over which are robes of mustard yellow and the color of dried blood. In his hands he holds a large iron skull attached to a femur.

It is the character in the center that really stands out from the others, however, for he is human. The character is lean and has chiseled features, appearing to be in his late thirties. He wears no armor, but simple dark blue trousers tucked into gleaming black riding boots. Around him is draped a dark blue cloak onto which are embroidered runes. The runes seem to emanate a black light, which hurts them to look at them, giving them a very uneasy feeling. His face could be described as handsome. He has a neat black mustache and goatee beard. Long black greased locks tumble down beneath a dark black flattened conical hat, with a buckle round it.

He smiles as he sees them come to:

'I hope that the smoke that my little friend introduced into your abode did not cause you any discomfort' he says slyly. 'Just think of it as a little practice run for when the Inquisition finds you guilty of witchcraft and sentences you to be burned to death in the town square, so that you may become an example to any other Bohavian's who may be tempted to dabble in the arcane arts.'

'Oh, sorry. Please, excuse me. I haven't introduced myself properly. I am Pavel Reinburger, Witchfinder General of Dvur Kralovye.'

'Tsk, tsk - what a lot of trouble we have been, haven't we, you naughty people. You've taken out a company of Captain Obkod's goblin infantry, one of Deacon Kram's shamans, one of my apprentices and over half of Sargeant Sklad's worgrider platoon. That's an awful lot of mischief to be responsible for in less than 24 hours.'

He turns to Sklad.

'Good work, Sklad. Very good work indeed. I'll personally see to it that you are well rewarded for your work here today, as well as securing you the best of the goblin draft and some new furry friends from the kennels in Eger. Isn't that right, Captain Zasran?'

The huge orc nods his head, beaming at Sklad proudly. Sklad beams back at him, reveling in his glory.

'And you too, Corporal' he says to the goblin standard bearer, patting him on the head. 'There'll be some additional battle honors for the 5th Worgriders after this day.'

Skrin looks at his feet in a dopey fashion, somewhat embarrassed at all of the intention.

'But first we need to get these dangerous criminals back to Dvur Kralovye, he says looking at them. 'Have you anything to say for your sorry selves before we start the journey back?'

Winnacer coughs hard and signals with his hands for some water. "We are in no shape to travel. Even a two hour walk may spoil your trophy and kill my friends. Let us rest through the night, so our strength may return."

Pavel turns to the closest goblin:

'Vodu, proseem' he says, pointing to Winnacer and the others.

The goblin fills an earthenware mug with water and holds it to each of their lips in turn.

Corrow shakes his head as he snaps back into reality. He looks around at the witchfinder, the orc, the goblins, the worgs. He shivers with cold and realizes he is lying practically nude on the cold, wet floor, as are all his friends.

He looks the witchfinder in the eye and says, "Smurt's Minions be praised! You've finally arrived. These lunatics have been holding me hostage for days, ever since I met them on the road from Hradetz Kralovye to Dvur Kralovye."

Corrow's voice raises in pitch and volume as he speaks, and he looks like is getting vaguely hysterical.

"At first they seemed friendly, but they seized me and dragged me along. They kept accusing me of being a witch, and asked me to join them, but as you can see, I have no sorcerous dolls or books with me, or even a weapon with which to defend myself. They do, though. I saw them cast spells, putting the guards to sleep, and other things besides."

Lying helpless on the floor, Corrow's puny body looks even more pathetic unclothed that it does normally.

"Please free me, sir, and keep me close to these criminals for not one second longer. I beg you. Of course I will accompany you to the trial and will testify against them. I have seen every one of their heinous crimes."

Jihan immediately leaps into action, adrenaline again concealing his pain.

Knowing he might take a kick in the side, but seeing that Corrow's desperate plan might be their only hope, Jihan turns on the mage, his face contorted in anger.

"Did I say you could talk? You BASTARD! I know we should have broken your sorcerous neck when we met you."

With that, he hurls himself at the mage and pummels at him, expecting to be dragged off, though in the weak state he is in, his blows are feeble enough on their own without him pulling the punches.

He winks at Corrow as he is pulled away by the goblins.

The Witchfinder General starts to bellow with laughter as he sees the scuffle break out between Corrow and Jihan.

'How it does amuse me to see you fight. I see that the Nyemetz have little to fear as Bohavians will always try their miserable attempts to pin the blame on someone else so as to protect themselves.'

'Perhaps you speak the truth, perhaps you lie. Sargeant Sklad has already told me that you have more fantastic tales to tell than the great bard, Karel Gott. If you are indeed innocent of any crimes against the Nyemetz, then you have nothing to fear from the Inquisition. Through the divine power granted to him, the Protektor will be able to judge your innocent and guilt with ease. If you have more to say, then leave it until the Inquisition tomorrow. You will have your chance to plead your innocence there.'

The Witchfinder than replies to Winnacer's request.

'Don't worry, good fellow, I wouldn't make you all walk back to Dvur Kralovye. What a shame it would be were one or more of you to perish along the way and miss out on the Inquisition. No, my friends, I am sure that you will be pleased to experience of traveling on worgback.

'Come now, it grows late and I wish to be back in Dvur Kralovye before nightfall. I have a very important function to attend later in the evening.'

He beckons to the goblins and they start to carry/drag them all out of the grotto. As they reach the outside, they see the sun is still fairly high in the sky, making it mid-afternoon by their best estimates. It is obvious that they were only unconscious for an hour or so. However, the position of the sun is far from being the most notable thing that they see. Everywhere they look, there are worgriders. Twenty of them or so are waiting patiently outside, whereas the majority of them are scouting out the area to ensure that there are no more 'rebels' in the area.

As they are dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, goblins start to apply manacles to their wrists, matching those that are already securing their ankles. One by one, they are put onto your bellies and laid across the worgs' backs. The situation is far from comfortable, although vastly preferable to having to walk the five or six miles to Dvur Kralovye.

They notice that there is some commotion coming from the copse where Jihan and Yaz had their final encounter with Sklad. A short while later, the cart, still piled high with Granny's possessions, is rolled out into the open. Four worgs are tied to the cart in order that it may be dragged back to Dvur Kralovye. As the cart makes its way towards them, all of their belongings are piled up and added to Granny's belongings.

It looks as if they are just about to move off, when there is another commotion to the northwest. They see, to their immense disappointment, that Heimlin, Grannyand Bekkah are being dragged towards them, also bearing manacles attached to their wrists and ankles.

Heimlin appears to be in a similar state to the rest of them in that he is bruised and bleeding. He obviously put up what little resistance he was capable of towards the Nyemetz. Bekkah is in the same traumatized state that she has been since you first saw her. At least she has not suffered a repeat of the terrible fate that befell her the previous day. It is quite obvious that Granny is totally confused by the situation, and does not realize the danger that she is in. She is chatting to the goblins dragging her towards them in her rambling fashion, making little sense to them, and presumably even less to the goblins.

As Heimlin sees the others, his face shows a mixture of emotions. There is some relief in seeing that they all still live, some disappointment that they have also been captured, some pain as a result of his injuries. He gives them a little half-hearted smile as if to say to them that he knows that they tried their best.

'Well, well, well' exclaims the Witchfinder after listening to the orc sargeant which is leading the gnomes towards him, 'What have we here?'

'It seems that we have uncovered a veritable coven of you witches and your associates. This is going to be the greatest Inquisition that Dvur Kralovye will ever have witnessed in my time.'

Pavel is grinning like a cat at the thought of the glory that he is going to receive for bringing them all to 'justice'.

The gnomes are laid across the worgs in the same fashion as the party members are, then goblins mount the worgs behind them where they can keep an eye on them.

They then move off in a westwards direction, towards the setting sun and Dvur Kralovye. As they leave the site of the tragedy, Yaz looks around trying to see whether he can see Nuts, Giselle or any of the horses. However, none of the animals are anywhere to be seen.

They are accompanied on their journey by two companies of worgriders, 40 of them in total, plus the Witchfinder, Captain Zasran, the shaman, Sklad and the remnants of his platoon. An additional two companies remain and start to fan out from the gnomish village, obviously checking that there are no other witches attempting to flee from the area.

The journey is uncomfortable. Every time that any of them start to fidget, or make any move or sound, they are rewarded by a smack across the back by the pommel of a goblin's shortsword. After experiencing the pain, they try and keep as still as possible.

Their journey lasts for two hours. As they see Dvur Kraloye approaching, the dusk sun glows red, the color of the blood that they have seen so much of during the day. Coming up to the town, they splash through a ford across the River Labe. They notice that the ford is guarded by a company of twenty goblins, which stand to attention as the convoy passes through the ford.

Five minutes later and they are before Dvur Kralovye. They notice that the town is not walled. However, there are a number of watchtowers encircling the city, each of which are manned by five orcs armed with longbows. They stare down at the returning party, grinning at them when they see that they are bringing prisoners with them.

The convoy starts to move through the streets of Dvur Kralovye, the first major settlement that the party has seen in the two weeks since they left Mnyesto. As they enter the town, the three goblin drummers in the convoy start to pound on their drums.

The sound of the drums brings the convoy to the attention of the townspeople. As they see the procession, they stop and stare. There is great sadness written on the faces of nearly everyone that sees the chained prisoners, guessing as to what their fate will be. A number of them cross themselves, making their religious symbols with their fingers.

As he enters the town at the head of the procession, the Witchfinder waves regally at all of the townspeople, obviously believing that he is an all-conquering hero. The townspeople look back at him with a mixture of shame, disgust and terror. Some spit on the ground. The witchfinder ignores them.

After five minutes of traveling through the town streets, the procession pulls up outside a large imposing building situated on the town square. The goblins dismount and gently pull the prisoners off the worgs. Two orogs in ceremonial armor who are blocking the entrance with crossed halberds stand easy as they see the Witchfinder at the head of the party. They open the door and Pavel walks through into the building. Two goblins assist each of the prisoners in following him. He leads them all through the building to a staircase leading downwards.

The staircase leads to the cells. At the bottom, a couple of goblins leap to attention as they see the Witchfinder coming. He speaks with them briefly and one of them produces a large iron key and opens the wood and iron door to the cell. The goblins lead the prisoners inside the cell.

It is a large one, easily able to house the ten of them with room to spare. The stench of excrement, urine and fear hits them as they enter the cell. It is dark inside, lit only by the flickering torches from outside. The floor is covered in straw. Rats scurry about as they are alerted by the light.

The goblins remove the manacles around their wrists and ankles. Instead, large iron brackets are attached to one of each of their legs and a large length of thick iron chain is threaded through all of the brackets. This is secured to a very large loop in the floor by means of a large padlock which is locked securely.

As the goblins depart, Pavel stands in front of them with the same smug look on his face:

'I hope that the accomodation is to your liking. We weren't expecting quite so many of you, so this is the best that we can do under the circumstances. Don't get too comfortable, however. Tomorrow you will face the Inquisition, who will decide your fate which will then be carried out the following day.'

Pavel then walks out and the heavy oak door slams behind them.