The Foolhardies 125 Mission Impossible

Garm was already by the steps leading up to his fortress when he glanced back at me and said, "By the way, you failed so your request is denied."

"Wh-what?!" I asked flabbergasted. That was clearly not the case. "I blocked your attack!"

"You blocked one attack," he said, turning back around and climbing up the steps while his forces gave way to let him through. "Not enough to satisfy me."

"You said to block your attack, as in singular!" I countered, taking a step forward.

"Go back to your tower, boy, you're not welcome here," he said, still climbing up the steps.

"And what about me?" Grimthorn's booming voice echoed across the courtyard. "Surely, you won't deny me a sip of your vaunted wine casks?"

"I don't have any hospitality to give you either, Brom," Garm answered. He'd reached his doors, but before he went through it he said, "Go back to central and tell my nephew all is well. Garm has no need for babysitters."

Garm shut the door behind him in a loud thud, signaling the audience was over. His soldiers, following their master's lead began to return to their training, while the few that hung around us were clearly in a rush to get us off the premises.

It must have sucked for them that they couldn't do that as Grimthorn had just patted me in the shoulder and praised me for the earlier duel.

"I saw the moment you took his blow, lad," Grimthorn said, punching my shoulder heavily as he did and causing me to get pushed sideways a step. "That was quite the skill you've shown… gave old Garm a second guess at what to expect."

Grimthorn glanced over at my companions and gave them an approving nod.

"Well, if you're traveling with this bunch, I expect the praise I've been hearing about you isn't underserved," he guffawed, not at all caring that the satyr commander and his fellows were eyeing us with that look waiters give guests who've overstayed their welcome.

Grimthorn reached up and tackled my shoulder with one of his stout arms and then squeezed my head down toward him.

"Follow my lead, lad," he whispered. "Best we get out of here before Garm decides he has more men than either of us brought."

Grimthorn led me away in that awkward position—more like dragged me away—while waving off our satyr guides with a single raising of his bushy eyebrow.

"We'll find our way fine, thanks," Grimthorn said.

Without stopping, he led me past the portcullis and out onto the drawbridge where we were met by what must have been a hundred dwarven warriors.

In uniform motion, each dwarf raised their fists to their chests pinky first in salute of the great general.

"See that, lad," he whispered. "That's what it looks like when you're regarded as a living symbol of the state's martial prowess. I hear you want to be one someday?"

Even with my five hundred soldiers, I couldn't bring out that level of authority that Grimthorn nonchalantly threw my way. You could tell that all his soldiers were devoted to fighting for this single dwarf to their very last breath.

"You'll have some competition, I think," he said, pointing toward the young dwarf officer waiting in front of his troops. "This is Dain Hammerhand, my recently promoted five-hundred man commander."

Dain Hammerhand was a name I'd heard before, back when Al Sheridan and Verania Folkor had visited Hoodwink Tower. It was the name of another one of my would-be rivals.

The dwarf in question was stout like all other male dwarves, but looked younger than the ones I was used to seeing, with curly red hair even brighter than mine and a matching braided beard that reached past his chest. He wore a dwarven chain mail shirt like Varda did and resting in his hand was a double-sided ax with a strange red glow to its shadowblade edge.

"Lead the way, Dain lad," Grimthorn ordered as he finally released me from his lock. "Let's get out of this spirit-forsaken city before we discuss business."

He turned his gaze briefly back at me and winked. "I brought a friendly she-elf along, fresh from her travels abroad."

"Is she… alone?" I asked.

"Not likely. I left her with an army, laddie," he said jovially.

The first time I saw Great General Grimthorn was during the council meeting where all the generals seemed to be posturing and measuring each other's, well, swords. So I wasn't completely prepared to meet this laughing less tense version of the dwarf who'd stared Darah down a few times.

I glanced over at Luca and the rest who'd followed behind us and saw my brother shrug back at me as if to say, "At least we're getting out of this place and not imprisoned in some dark dungeon."

Of course, I shrugged back at him. And although I was seriously disappointed about not accomplishing what I came here for, even though I knew it was a longshot, I counted my lucky stars that Garm really hadn't held me and my friends captive.

With Garm's soldiers marching ahead of us and clearing the main streets of bystanders, we managed to quickly make it out of the city in double the time it took going in.

Outside, we were greeted by my Foolhardies which had been surrounded by what must have been about five thousand of Garm's personal soldiers. A mostly dwarven regiment bolstered by trolls, salamanders, and cat-like creatures I'd never encountered before.

I managed to spare them a passing glance, the strategist in me keeping check on my surroundings, while my eyes searched for her. There, she was sitting on Starlight at the front of our soldiers, and there was no human girl at her side.

I sighed in relief. Finally, one thing went well tonight. I hoped.

Grimthorn and I made our way toward Aura, and when we were within shouting distance of each other, we both spoke at the same time.

"I couldn't get Garm to give his permission," I said.

"I managed to convince Arah not to go to the Fayne for now," she said.

We both blinked. Then we both rolled our eyes at each other.

"Perhaps these are conversations to be had in less open circumstances, my lady," Grimthorn said, rolling his own eyes at the pair of us. "Kids these days… follow me and bring your officers."

Grimthorn led me, Aura, and the rest of my officers further into the lines of his forces and to a pitched pavilion at the very center of his formation. He ushered us all inside, packing us in with his own officers, and after he'd shut the opening flap turned to face all of us and said, "Well, aren't you lot lucky I happened to pass by, otherwise you'd all be prisoners of Garm's by now."

Grimthorn's sudden change from friendly uncle to the dour old dwarf was unexpected, but at least I'd seen this before.

I raised a hand and pointed out, "I called you here, sir."

"I was already on my way here, lad," he countered. "Good that I was, too, or I wouldn't have seen our lady here," he pointed at Aura, "charging through the Westmarch on her own without a guard in sight!"

After he'd said this, he glared at Edo whose job it was to be watching over her.

"It's not their fault, Great General… I simply finished my errand ahead of schedule," Aura reasoned before turning to me, " And I rushed ahead here without waiting for my escort to join me so I could report that my mission was a success."

"Your mission?" I asked at the same time as Grimthorn said, "What mission?"

"I'd traveled to Mudgard earlier this night to speak with an informant who pledged to assist our investigation over there."

She'd emphasized those last two words for my benefit which was most likely her code for Arah wasn't coming to the Fayne, at least for now.

Grimthorn eyed me and Aura like he knew there was something we weren't telling him. But he decided to change tact and demanded to know why I was even dueling Garm in the first place.

"I needed his permission to cross the blockade into Westersand Desert and he wouldn't listen until I agreed to his duel," I explained.

"You dueled my uncle?" Aura asked.

"He won too," Luca added.

"Didn't matter as Garm wasn't planning to honor the bargain," I whined.

"What did you expect?" Grimthorn raised an eyebrow. "Crossing the blockade might as well be an act of war on our side. Seeing as you lot just survived one war, I didn't think you'd be so eager to start another."

"It's not like that, sir," I said. "Our intel on a slave caravan we're chasing points toward the city to the west of Westersand Desert."

"I've heard about this quest you're on…" Grimthorn stroked his beard as the expression on his face hardened. "These rumors of a 'chosen one' have made its way even to your brother's court. And we are all of a mind not to pursue it."

"But, General—"

"—I've heard the boy is your friend, lad," Grimthorn said, his hardened expression softening for a moment before hardening again. "But need I remind you that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?"

That was it then. There would be no help from the Pavilion. I gritted my teeth and lowered my head while feeling drained for the first time in a long while.

"Officially, the council does not condone this quest," Grimthorn continued.

I raised my head and glanced over at the dwarf whose hardened expression was in danger of cracking.

"Your unit will return to its base of operations and await further orders," Grimthorn said, his eyebrows twitching. "I will personally arrive in two weeks to see that you have complied with the council's instructions."

I glanced over at Luca and wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking. He must have because there were the beginnings of a smile across his face.

Grimthorn wasn't giving us permission but he certainly wasn't stopping us. In fact, he'd given me a clear deadline. Two weeks. That was the time I had to infiltrate the Westersand Desert and rescue my friend.

"No resources shall be provided whatsoever to this quest as there is no quest," Grimthorn finished, as if anyone there hadn't realized it already.

So, no resources and a time limit, meaning very little time left for planning and preparation. This was sounding a lot like a Mission-Impossible scenario. And I think, just to be absolutely sure, it was time for another out-of-body spiritual journey.

Chapter end