Forge of the Mindslayers (The Blade of the Flame) by Tim Waggoner

Author:Tim Waggoner [Waggoner, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786956609
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2010-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Ghaji opened his eyes to darkness. His head throbbed and his throat felt as if he’d been gargling with the stomach acid of a purple worm. He tried to move and when he couldn’t, he realized that his hands and feet were bound.

If I had a copper piece for every time I’ve been taken prisoner …

The last Ghaji remembered was being attacked by Haaken and the Coldhearts. If he had to bet where he was, he’d guess the hold of the Coldhearts’ ship. Was Diran here as well? He opened his mouth to whisper his friend’s name, but when Ghaji tried to speak, he started coughing, and it took several moments for him to regain control of himself.

“Don’t worry. It’s a side-effect of the drug the Coldhearts used.” Diran’s voice was soft and scratchy but audible. “It’s called the amber sleep, and it’s made from the leaves of a plant that grows in the jungles of Xen’drik. It’s rare and quite expensive. I wonder how Haaken got hold of it.”

“How do you know? Oh, right. Former assassin.” Ghaji struggled to break free of his bonds, but they held tight. He gave up and turned toward Diran’s direction. “Do you still have any of your daggers?”

“Unfortunately not. Haaken and his people not only removed the daggers I carried on my person, they also took my cloak.”

Ghaji was disappointed but not surprised. After all, his axe had been taken as well. Still, they weren’t completely without weapons. “If you’re not already lying down, Diran, do so.”

Ghaji heard rustling nearby. “Done,” Diran said.

Ghaji sighed. He really didn’t want to do this, but he could think of no other way that they could get free. He wriggled over to Diran, lay down on his side, and shifted position until his head was next to Diran’s wrists. Then Ghaji opened his mouth, and using his sharp teeth, he began to carefully gnaw upon the rope binding his friend’s arms behind his back. It only took a few moments for Ghaji to free Diran’s hands, and after he shifted position once more, his feet.

Ghaji spat several times. “I hate the taste of rope.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice, my friend. Allow me to return the favor.”

“Nothing personal, Diran, but you don’t have the teeth for it.”

Diran chuckled. “Perhaps not, but allow me to see what I can find that might serve the same purpose.”

Ghaji listened as Diran searched the hold. He heard boxes being moved, lids being opened, contents shifted about as Diran felt around for something that would cut Ghaji’s bonds. The half-orc’s night vision adjusted to the hold’s darkness, and he was able to make out Diran’s form as the priest moved silently among the cargo, searching. After some time had passed without Diran having any success, Ghaji began to think that maybe things would go faster if his friend did employ his blunt human teeth to gnaw through the rope binding his wrists and ankles, but finally Diran said, “Ah, here we are!”

“What did you find?”

Diran returned to Ghaji’s side.

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