Steel rang against steel in the dim light of the tunnel. A sword crashed against his shield, the force driving him back a step. Hot blood splashed across his face, his companion grunted hard and dropped to the floor. His own sword cut deep into his opponent through the armor and into the flesh behind. He stepped back, blocking the back sweep of the blow that had dropped his companion. Sparks flew as the blades clashed. His return stroke found a target. The orc's battle cry stilled, even as it sounded, his sword cutting deeply into its throat. He paused, listening, straining to hear anything in the darkness ahead. His companion groaned in pain.
"Can you walk?" he whispered, the man nodded weakly, "Good, go back to the horses. If you can ride go to the manor tell them where we are. If you can't then wait." His companion nodded again. He helped the man to his feet and watched for a moment as the man stumbled back the way they had come. He turned to listen again. Ahead there was only silence, the passage dimly lit by a band of glowing blue stone running along both sides of the tunnel, the ceiling barely 7 feet high. He stepped over the two dead orcs at his feet and moved slowly and quietly down the passage.
He cursed his lack of armor. There had only been time to grab helm, shield and sword when the word had come that his lady had been taken in an ambush. The wounded survivor had recounted how the hunting party had been trapped. Lady Ingrid had forced him to ride to the manor after an orc arrow had pierced his thigh. He had last seen her fighting to protect his escape, two orcs dead at her feet, her sword raised to take another.
Kris had found the ambush site easily enough. He cursed her adventurous spirit at times, but hunting wild boar should have been safe enough. Yet scattered about the clearing were the remains of the hunting party and their horses. Five friends and family cut down by the orcs. Ingrid was not amongst the slain, hope and fear beat in his heart that she was still alive. Her shield lay on the ground, cloven through center of the white winged horse, the blue field stained with black blood. The orc trail had been easy enough to follow, but the ruins they led to were well hidden. He had come only with one of his guardsmen there had been enough time to gather more and now he was alone deep inside the ruins.
The tunnel seemed to stretch forever as he moved forward. Occasionally he would hear the distant sounds of moving feet and his stride increased eager to come to grips with the foe that had dared to steal from him. Throwing caution aside he began to race down the old tunnel. He could feel the age of it growing on him like a blanket. No Orc construction was this, it ran straight and true and the floor was level and unbroken. He paused at an intersection listening intently at each opening. He thought he heard the crash of boots on stone down one of the passages and turned to follow the noise.
He picked up his pace again, a sense of urgency dogging his steps. He turned a corner and ran headlong into Orc. He raised his shield and drove his enemy to the floor, dispatching him with a flick of his sword without pause. Leaving only a surprised look on the face of his dead enemy to mark his passage. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he paused a moment to catch his breath. He adjusted his long braided hair underneath the helmet to keep his own sweat from blinding him. A noise up ahead caught his attention and he moved forward quietly, sword ready.
Another intersection rose from the dim light and the fierce guttural sound of orcs could be heard around the corner. He peered around the corner, two orcs stood there arguing over a blade. He recognized Ingrid's sword, the large blue sapphire set in the crossguard twinkling even in the dim light of the passage. His rage grew fierce at the sight and he charged around the corner bursting upon the orcs. His first blow cut through the neck of the closest orc, the backstroke taking his companion through the gut dropping him to the floor in a heap. Kris picked up Ingrid's blade wiping off the orc blood that had dried on it. The edge was clean, sharp and un-notched he hoped that he could return it to her.
He moved on down the passage, he could hear more orcs shouting and arguing in their coarse tongue not to far ahead. Then the sound he feared the most echoed through the air. Steel clashing against steel. He raced ahead, his heart thundering in his chest, the corded muscles of his body ready to drive him and his sword into the heart of the enemy. Ahead the passage opened up into a chamber, a thin shaft of sunlight bursting through from the surface illuminating it. Ingrid stood, her back against a column, an orc blade in her hand and a dead orc at her feet. She wove the crude blade in a fearsome arc around her holding three more at bay.
His battle cry rang out through the ancient hall and Ingrid raised her head a smile upon her lips at the sound of his voice. The orcs turned at the sound and Ingrid took advantage of their surprise slaying one of the three that stood before her. He crashed into their midst like a title wave, the hall echoed with the sounds battle, and orcs fell like wheat before his flashing blade. An orc blow thudded against his shield and another nicked his arm. His eyes blazed as he felt his own blood flowing freely, staining his linen shirt a bright red. A blow to his head from behind sent him sprawling to the floor and he waited for the deathblow even as he struggled to regain his feet. Instead he heard a blade thud behind him and a body dropped to the floor.
