The Hands of Chaos
an excerpt

Chapter 8

Consciousness returned slowly. With it came pain and tingling. Even the sound of a roaring fire seemed loud. Most annoying of all was the smell of wet orc. Jovan groaned and struggled fully awake.

The firelight hurt his eyes and it took a minute for him to fully see the room and occupants around him. “Oho! Back from the dead,” boomed a voice, and Jovan swiveled his head in order to see the speaker. A greying dwarf stomped toward him and grinned.

Jovan just stared at the dwarf, stupidly. Things were coming back to him but his brain was still sluggish. “The snow must have addled his brain,” said a more gutteral voice.

A very large half-orc joined the dwarf and flashed a stained smile at the human. “You travel with strange company, human,” he said. “We almost slit the drow's throat but saw the sprite at the last minute. We have enough woes at the moment we don't need the Elven High Court leveling our town because we killed one of their precious psions.”

“Huh,” Jovan managed. The goblinoid had spoken something about his companions but the only thing that had really registered was that the fellow was far more eloquent than Gar.

The dwarf snickered. “Think we got to this one too late,” he said.

From behind Jovan, closer to the fire came more groans and mutters.
Slowly everyone started to recover. They're saviors brought them hot drinks and put more wood on the fire. All of them had been stripped of their wet clothing and wrapped in blankets. Deekas flashed out of Resnieth's blankets to go groom her delicate wings by the fire. Khalim looked away, scandalized. Gar shook his head at the human. “She too small to see anything.”

“It's the principal of the thing,” Khalim said.

Tuane' equally uninhibited stretched by the fire and tried to soak up all of the heat at once. She drew back with an angry screech though when Dinadmer pushed his way up to the fireplace and spread his blanket open in front of the flames. Everyone turned away from the sight. “That'll be burned into my memory for the rest of my life,” Jovan lamented.

When they'd started to feel somewhat normal again, their hosts introduced themselves. “This here is Grurt,” said the dwarf, pointing at the half-orc, “and me, I'm Brink. You folks don't know how lucky you are we stumbled across you in the snow. Another few minutes and no one would have found you until, well, whenever this evil spell blows itself out.”

“So it is a spell?” Jovan said.

“Oh, aye, there's no doubt about that,” Brink said. “The town's been cut off from outside world for three days now. Grurt and I volunteered to try to find a way out and get help, so we hooked up the reindeer to a sled and headed out. We know this area like nobody's business but we kept getting turned around. Then Grurt says he thinks he sees something and we went to check it out. Turned out to be your frozen horses and there you were right by 'em.”

“The horses are dead?” Resnieth said.

“They were already gone when we found you,” Grurt rumbled. “Sorry, kid.”

“Great,” Khalim said. “Those were good horses.”

Grurt snorted. “Trust me, human, losing a few horses are the least of your troubles right now. If this spell keeps us trapped here we'll run out of wood and food. That happens and the only thing you'll miss about them horses is the meat they'd provide.”

Brink shook his head. “With the slasher running around we won't last long enough to run out of supplies,” he said.

“Aye, there is that,” Grurt said.

“This just gets better and better,” Khalim said. “Are you two saying there's some killer on the loose in your town.”

The dwarf's shaggy head bobbed up and down. “Got us a serial killer, we do,” he said. “Struck three times so far. Killed one of the guard, Trapper Jack, and then the Ryan family.”

“'Cept for the boy,” Grurt interjected.

“Bah, the boy may as well be dead. Just stares straight ahead. Can't hardly get him to eat. Whatever he saw messed him up real good.”

“Lot of blood,” Grurt said. “The house is sure to be haunted. We should burn it down.”

“Not until we're sure we don't need the wood for fuel,” the dwarf said. “We can always have a priest do a cleansing – maybe have a little ceremony. That is assuming any of us live through this.”

Gar punched a meaty hand into his palm. “We hunt killer. Gar eat his spleen.”

“Sounds better than waiting here to starve,” Khalim agreed. “Except the part about spleen eating – I'll pass on that.”

“Spleens are how you gain the strength and power of your enemy,” Grurt said. He nodded his approval at Gar. “You find this bastard and kill him and you'll have well earned his spleen.”

“We won't turn down the help,” Brink said, “but no one is going out tonight. You folks need your rest, plus we've set up a curfew. No one is to go out on the streets at night. We can start the investigation after some rest and a good breakfast. Things always look less hopeless on a full stomach, I always say.”

The half-orc and dwarf turned to leave the party to rest, but the dwarf turned back one last time. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “Welcome to Squeedunk.”