Shadowguard

Everna plucked a bottle from the wine crate and then tore a strip of cloth from the bolts. "Well, let's just hope I remember how to do this."

Her mother was not as proactive as her father when teaching her the tricks of adventuring, but from time to time, she imparted her questionable wisdom. Few kids in the town could say that dinner conversations revolved around the various methods of turning everyday objects, such as a bottle of alcohol and a piece of cloth, into a fiery nightmare. Then again, most people didn't have famed adventurers as parents.

She popped the cork off the bottle and set it aside, then dipped the rag into the oil. Once it was thoroughly soaked, she stuffed it inside the neck. It wouldn't be as good as a concoction brewed by an alchemist, but it would have to do.

"What are you doing?" Lisette asked, peering at the bottle.

"Poor man's Liquid Fire," Everna said. "I've never actually made it before, but theoretically, you set the oiled cloth alight and throw it. When the bottle breaks, the rum catches. It's supposed to explode."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"It should. Rum's one of the most flammable alcohols on the market, but, if not, dump the next bottle and fill it with oil. Or, better yet, dump the oil on the crate and set it aflame. That will explode."

Lisette frowned. "How do you know that?"

"My parents own a tavern."

Lisette plucked the finished bottle from the ground and turned it over in her hands. "You're much too calm right now. I figured, green as you were, you'd be sobbing in your cell right about now."

"What good would that do me?" she asked as she reached for another bottle.

When Windmore threw her into the prisons and she faced almost certain execution, it wasn't wistful thoughts and sorrowful laments that spared her. Those thoughts only pulled her further into the pits of despair and held her there. She floundered and wasted precious time questioning her own ability and fearing the consequences of failure.

Her situation didn't change until Wil came along and hauled her out of her comfort zone. He'd been right in one regard that night; no one was going to hand her anything. The moment she made a genuine attempt to find the answers she wanted, that's when she truly began finding them.

And she certainly wouldn't find the answers she wanted sitting in a cell.

A ruckus further into the cave brought her work to a halt. She'd made five bottles in all. They would have to do.

"They've discovered we escaped," Lisette said. She narrowed her eyes and turned her ear towards the sound. "They're blaming each other for the moment, but it won't be long before one of them gets the rest back on track."

"You can understand them?"

Lisette shrugged. "I'm a linguist. I can understand just about any spoken language with some measure of fluency. My goblin's not that great, but I know enough to get the gist of what they're saying."

Everna withheld further questions. Now was not the time to ask how many languages she understood. Taking two of the cocktails in her hands, she asked, "Which side is Vina on? I'll try to keep them contained on the other side."

Lisette pointed to their left.

"Right it is, then."

She peered around the stack of crates. Many of the goblins had gathered around her cell, pushing and shoving against one another as they bickered amongst themselves. The grinding of hinges cut above the chatter, and through the gaps in the ever-shifting sea of green bodies, she saw the two guards stumble out of the cell, swinging wildly.

Everna tossed the first bottle at the furthest hovel. It shattered on impact, glass and rum flying in every direction. Nothing happened.

She waited.

Still, nothing happened.

Then, looking at the second bottle in her hand, Everna realized what the problem was.

She'd forgotten to light the cloth.

Cursing her utter stupidity, searched the cave for something to use as an ignition. It didn't take long to locate one of the small cook fires that littered the cave's floor. If she could find a stick, she could light the rag.

Or she could throw the whole thing into the fire. She always wondered what would happen. Deciding that she might not have another chance to sate her curiosity, that's exactly what she did.

Using the hovels as cover, she hurried to the pit. She kept her distance, wary of the impending explosion, and tossed the concoction into the fire. It landed in the heart of the flames.

With a loud pop, the bottle shot out of the cook fire and straight into the nearby hovel. The alcohol, mixed with the oil, burst into flames the moment the bottle shattered, the fire quickly spreading to the tattered fabric, and from there, to the twigs. Soon, roiling flames wreathed the entire building.

She stifled a laugh.

The goblins quickly ceased their argument and flocked towards the hovel, pointing and screaming. Some stumbled too close, shoved and thrown by the crowd, and their loincloths caught the flames. The smarter few shouldered their way through the congregation, wooden buckets filled with spilling water clutched in their hands.

Everna retreated to the supply area and picked up the last three bottles. These went into the other cook-fires and, within moments, four hovels, and many goblins, were aflame. A cloud of thick white smoke built near the roof of the cavern, growing larger as the fire spread to nearby buildings.

"Not bad," Lisette said, appearing beside Everna once more. This time, she had Vina with her, her hands bound with fraying rope and gagged with a thick cloth, one that looked suspiciously like the loincloths the goblins wore. "Now let's get out of here before the smoke suffocates us."

Oh. She hadn't considered that.

Vina made a series of muffled curses and pointed to the back of her head.

"That is staying in until we're out," Everna said. "I don't trust you to keep your mouth shut."

"Agreed," Lisette said. "I'd be a pity if we had to stab her to keep her quiet."

Vina shrieked and stamped her foot, fear and confusion in her eyes.

Keeping to the opposite side of the cave, the three of them hurried towards what Lisette informed them was an exit. As they drew closer, Everna realized it wouldn't be as simple as walking out. Fifteen feet before the wall, the ground plunged into darkness. The sound of distant rushing water rose from below. A rickety bridge of rotted planks and fraying rope hung precariously over the ravine.

One misstep would send her tumbling into the dark. The bridge, clearly designed with little regard for safety and creatures much smaller than them, might not hold beneath their weight. Vina might shove her off.

Ten feet from the edge of the bridge, Everna came to an abrupt halt. A shiver shot down her spine. Dread pitted in her stomach, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

There was something down there.

No sooner than the thought occurred to her, a massive hand emerged from the darkness. It slammed down upon the edge of the chasm, large, grubby fingers digging into the stone, which cracked and crumbled like dry dirt beneath its grasp. A second hand followed suit.

A head, far larger than any she'd seen before, came next, a pair of glowing silver eyes staring back at her.