by Pdmac
Conrad rubbed his hands together. “Hot damn. Finally a chance to do some mischief.”
“They’re orcs,” Wendell cautioned. “Remember?”
“That’s why we get paid the big bucks.”
“Big bucks?” Wendell’s eyebrows scrunched. “We’re not getting paid, are we?”
“Forget it,” Conrad said rolling his eyes. “Subtle humor is lost on you.”
“If there are no other questions,” Karl said with a smile, “let’s move out.”
By the time they returned after the afternoon’s recon, they’d had enough and were ready to settle down for a good meal and some ale.
“We go out again when it’s dark,” Karl said.
“Again?” Sharyn whined. “We’ve been over that ground for hours. Nothing’s changed. It’s all still the same.”
“But it won’t look the same when it’s dark,” Karl explained. He looked at Carole who was dragging a bit. “How you holding up?”
“I’m OK,” she replied with false confidence.
“Why don’t you stay back tonight,” Karl offered. “You need the rest more than you do the recon.”
“What about the rest of us,” Sharyn asked.
“The rest of us are back out when it’s dark. Now go get something to eat. Be back here at nine.”
“It’ll be past midnight before we’re back,” Sharyn complained.
“Most likely,” Karl agreed. “But on the flip side, you get to sleep in because we won’t go out again until the afternoon.”
“Thank God,” she said with a sigh of relief.
Gwen appeared in the doorway, and Karl felt his arousal stir and he wished everyone was gone because Gwen had intimated a shared bath was on the agenda.
“You coming?” Annabeth asked, breaking into his reverie.
“I’ve got some things to discuss with Lady Gwen and General Manas,” he lamely answered.
“Sure,” Annabeth nodded, giving him a ‘you-know-I-don’t believe-you’ look. Turning to Raquel, she ticked her head towards the door. “C’mon girlfriend. Let’s get something to eat and see what mischief we can get into together afterwards.”
Karl watched them saunter away, their swaying hips subtly seductive, and he wondered what she meant by ‘mischief together’ and suddenly he wondered if they were intimate while he was up here with Gwen. The thought of them together diverted his attention and focus to the two luscious women and he took a hesitant step only to be brought to a standstill when Gwen stepped in his line of sight, giving him a demure yet alluring smile.
“Are you hungry?” she inquired.
Karl’s lust for a shared experience with Annabeth and Raquel vanished, replaced by surging passion to rip Gwen’s clothes off.
Gwen butted the door closed and bolted it then unhooked the broach at her shoulder and let the gown fall to floor. “I was hoping you’d be hungry for this instead.”
It was well past midnight when the team dragged themselves through the portal. Though tired, they were excited about the spell’s night vision effects.
“Wish we would have had this before,” Conrad opined. “We’d be level 30’s by now.”
Raquel paused by Manas. “So once the mist descends, everything pretty much is at a standstill, because no one can see the nose on their face, which gives us an amazing advantage. It’s like we’re fighting a blind man.”
“That’s right.”
Tilting her head in thought, she asked, “If we have a sorceress who can cast a spell like that, is it possible they have one too?”
Manas grew solemn. “Yes, it is possible, though I have heard of no one with that capability.”
“So Cyril has sorceresses?”
“Most likely,” he admitted.
“So it is possible.”
“Yes.”
“Is there a way we could find out?”
“It may be too late,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll ask.”
She turned to Karl. “We might have an advantage in the beginning, but once they figure out what’s happening, we’re screwed.”
“Which means,” he slowly nodded, “that we have to strike fast and hard, hit and run, disappear before they know what happened.”
Gwen came up and slipped a hand around Karl’s arm. “You all must be tired,” she commiserated. Peering intently at Raquel, she offered a tender, “Thank you.”
Raquel blinked as she felt the sudden urge to kiss her then blinked again when the feeling abruptly vanished when Gwen turned her attention to Karl. “No problem,” she distractedly replied before joining up with Annabeth as she walked through the door and into the hallway.
“That was weird,” Raquel said.
“What?”
“I’m standing there talking to Manas when Gwen comes up, looks at me and all she says is ‘Thank you,’ and I get this overwhelming urge to kiss her.”
“Well she is pretty,” Annabeth remarked.
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh?”
“It was more sexual than a mere peck on the cheek.”
“I know.”
“You do?” Raquel quizzically regarded her friend.
“There’ve been a couple of times I’ve felt the same thing. It’s like she’s talking to someone then turns her attention on you and suddenly you want to make love to her. If it was just once, I would have passed it off as my imagination. But I noticed that anytime she focused her attention on me, I felt my body respond. And each time I think about doing something, as soon as she turns to someone else, the feeling goes away. I think I may have found an answer.” She slowed down to give them distance from the others.
Annabeth leaned in and lowered her voice. “I’ve been looking at characters and their traits and personalities. There’s one called a succubus.”
“Succubus?”
“Yes. A succubus is a woman, actually a demoness in the appearance of a beautiful woman who seduces men and steals their energy and souls during sex. There’s a man equivalent called an ‘incubus.’”
“So you think she’s a succubus?”
“What other logical explanation is there?”
“But Karl’s energy isn’t any different. Look at the way he ran all over the place when we were out on recon. I could barely keep up.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that part’s a little off, but look at the way he is around her, like he’s some junior high nerd all starry-eyed because the cheerleader noticed him.”
Raquel silently considered Annabeth’s conclusion. “So what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a defeated shrug. “It’s not like we can confront her. We show up to reveal her secret and we’d probably end up in a foursome. While it might be fun, it accomplishes nothing and we’re back to square one.”
“Then we have to get him away from her,” Raquel asserted.
“How? You see the way they are together.”
Raquel bristled at the image. Ever since they arrived in Westhaven, Karl had spent all his time with Gwen. It wasn’t so much that she resented his interest in another woman… well, maybe a little, but it was the overt dismissal of her and Annabeth as though they were just mere team members and nothing more.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Think we ought to tell anyone else?”
“I think we ought to tell Dieter and probably Brad and Lana. I get the feeling that once this battle is over, our boy’s gonna have second thoughts about moving on to the bridge.”
Raquel’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We may have to end up kidnapping him to break the spell.”
“You and Lana have spells that could do that?”
“You kidding me?” Annabeth scoffed. “You see her level? She’s a 20 with 50 in magic. We try to match wits with her and she’d have us dancing like silly puppets. We gotta think of a better way.”
In the early afternoon, the door to Lady Gwen’s suite opened and a messenger
strode in, his face awash in controlled fear. “My Lady. Cyril’s army approaches. General Manas sends word that the battle will likely begin tomorrow as by the time they arrive and get into position, it will be too late to mount an attack.” He turned his attention to Karl. “M’Lord, he said that you should be prepared to conduct your operations tonight.”
“Do we have any idea of the size of his forces?”
The messenger shook his head. “Only that there are orcs along with the Trolls of Stonefell in his army.”
Karl activated his screen and scrolled through the monster listings, settling on the ‘Troll’ link. While he remembered the basics, there was something about weaknesses that caused him to scroll through the Troll info until he slowed down at the last paragraphs.
Trolls have three weaknesses. The first relates to their voracious appetite. Trolls are forced to spend most of their time hunting for food, as they must consume vast amounts each day or face starvation. This quest, or need, to maintain sustenance causes trolls to lay claim to wide areas and fights between rivals or adjoining territories are common, though usually nonlethal. However, trolls know their lives depend on sufficient food supplies and have no qualms killing their own kind should food become scarce.
The second weakness is fire. As trolls have amazing regenerative powers, fire is the one substance that prevents regeneration. Thus, those who battle trolls know to burn all parts after a fight, for even the smallest bit of flesh can regrow to a full-size troll – given enough time. A word of caution – a troll’s fear of fire does not mean he will back down from a fight. Trolls are head strong, fearless, and vicious. They are incredibly strong and are ever ready to charge headlong at its opponent and attack it with all its fury.
The third weakness is sunlight, though some troll variants have adapted to moderate sunlight. Those variants most affected by sunlight are stone trolls and rock trolls. Rock trolls live far beneath the earth in underground caverns and venture forth when the sun has set. Thus, their habits are the reverse of topside dwellers, sleeping during the day and active at night. Rock trolls caught in the sunlight will turn to solid stone.
Stone trolls, cousins to rock trolls, live nearer the surface and are able to function topside during the dawn hours and sunset hours – even when the sun has risen, using shadows to shield themselves against the sun’s rays. Exposure to sunlight of any part of their body turns that specific part to stone as a permanent condition.
Karl scanned the rest of the parts about families and variants, instead choosing to focus on stats and skills, wondering aloud, “How is he employing the trolls if they are subject to sunlight? I assume the mist affects them just like everyone else.” Then he read their dark vision stats.
Senses:
Dark vision: 60 feet (18.3m)
Lowlight: + 6
Sense: +6
Perception: +4
Thinking about their upcoming raid, he uttered a soft, “Damn.”
Gwen’s lips tightened at his response then relaxed as she quickly remembered the messenger waiting for her reply. “Thank you. Please relay to the General that we will do as he instructs.”
“Yes, m’Lady,” he answered with a crisp bow and hustled out.
Once left alone, Karl watched as Gwen, lost in thought, paced the room, her arms folded. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I won’t let you down.” His smile was one of confidence.
She paused and twisted her head to stare at him, and for a fleeting instant the eyes were cold and piercing, instantly replaced by warmth and devotion.
“I know you won’t,” she answered with a forced smile. Suddenly she brightened. “Well. There’s nothing I can do about it this moment. I think a certain lady needs some attention by a certain Viking.”
“Now?” Karl replied, surprised. Yet what surprised him even more was the sudden arousal he felt, clouding his mind from his responsibilities. This time it was distinct, like the desire he felt in Kamdyn’s home. “What are you doing to me?” he slurred, drunk with uncontrollable desire.
“What do you mean?” she teased with a coy smile as he crossed over to her and swept her up in his arms.
“I don’t know what I mean,” he answered, his mind consumed with only one desire.
Standing on the high crenellated walls surrounding Westhaven, Manas watched as Cyril’s army spread out around the walls, cutting down trees and maneuvering catapults and trebuchets into the opening spaces. Initially mystified to see orcs and humans working together, he was somewhat mollified when he saw the not so subtle mutual distrust. His standing order of not to engage the enemy unless the target had the likelihood of being killed made the attackers less cautious until one bowman let fly a barbed arrow at a man pushing one of the catapults, piercing him through the throat and pinning him to the side of the machine.
The response was a flurry of arrows that fell harmlessly on the Westhaven side of the wall, where, to his delight, the fletchers and lesser skilled warriors collected over fifty perfectly good arrows.
Deciding he could always use more arrows, he selected four more master archers and told them to pick a target. Four more humans went down. By the time one of Cyril’s captains saw what was going on an yelled out for the damned fools to stop wasting arrows, Manas’ forces had collected three hundred and twenty seven arrows.
His mirth changed to anger once the machines were put to use. Instead of rocks and boulders, the first missiles fired were heads, human heads that bounced and rolled. The shock and horror soon turned to wails of grief as many recognized decapitated friends and relatives.
One head in particular caught Manas’ attention when it was brought to him, its tormented grimace still defiant to the end. The twisted visage on King Coirthan’s face reminded him that this same fate awaited him and Gwen and many others should they lose this war. He silently prayed that Karl and his team would prove successful.
Calling over one of his captains, a trim middle-aged man named Cuix, he commanded, “Send a messenger to Lady Gwen and inform her that the king is dead. I want you personally to inform the Lady of the circumstances. Take the head with you as a reminder to her and everyone else what we can expect from Cyril.”
“Yes, General.” He saluted then curled a finger at the man holding the king’s head by the thick hair.
Cuix and the warrior holding the king’s head, now stuffed in a bag, stood outside the door to Gwen’s suite and waited while the guard knocked and opened the door, immediately noting the door to Gwen’s bedroom door was closed.
“It’ll be a while,” the guard informed them, rolling his eyes and smiling.
“We don’t have a while, you fool,” Cuix snarled. “Get her out here.”
Chastised, the guard scurried over to the bedroom door and hesitantly knocked. When he received no response, he knocked again with a bit more insistence. He knocked the third time, adding, “My Lady. Captain Cuix is here.”
“Go away,” came the muffled reply.
Cuix strode across the room and wacked the door. “My Lady,” he loudly announced. “The king is dead.”
Silence followed for but a moment when the door cracked open enough for Gwen’s head to appear. Looking behind her, Cuix saw the Viking hastily dressing.
“Is it true?” she asked, her voice edged with disbelief.
Cuix motioned to the warrior holding the severed head in the bag. “His head was delivered to us just a little while ago.” He stared firmly into her eyes as he added, “You are now the queen and sole ruler of Montgrec. What are your commands?”
“Give me a minute,” she said, closing the door.
By the time Cuix and the warrior repositioned themselves in the middle of the outer room, the door to the bedroom opened and Gwen walked out, dressed in a flowered silk gown, followed by Karl who had managed to get dressed in the interval.
Gazing directly at Cuix then the warrior, her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand. “Show me.”
The warrior gingerly removed a small st
atue from a narrow pedestal table and placed the bag on top, untying the top then slipping the fabric over the side of the head.
Gwen stepped closer sand studied the grotesque visage. Karl was impressed that she displayed no tearful emotion.
“Keep this safe,” she admonished. “When this is all over, if we can find the body, he will be buried properly.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the warrior reverently spoke.
She then turned her attention to the guard by the door. “Fetch the Administrator.”
“Yes, m’Lady… er, uh, I mean, your Majesty.”
“Anyone hurt?” she said, addressing Cuix.
“No. He,” he said, waving a hand at the king’s head, “and about fifty others were launched over the walls, hoping to affect our morale. It merely angered us.”
“Has Cyril shown himself?”
“Not yet.”
The Administrator burst through the door with an “O my God” as soon as he saw the king’s head.
Karl watched the man, with a detached fascination. The Administrator’s look of anguish was appropriately genuine, yet lacked the skill of a true actor. Karl stood to the side as the man fawned over the dead king as though he had been a martyred saint.
Finally enduring enough, Gwen held up a hand. “Your condolences are duly noted. With his demise, I am now the ruler of Montgrec. I expect you to inform the people, impressing upon them that their fate is tied to mine and that they are expected to defend this domain to the best of their abilities.”
“Of course, my Lady,” he acknowledged with curt bow.
Karl noticed a smug smile flicker and vanish.
“Attend to it then.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Your Majesty,” Cuix intoned, correcting him.
“Ah yes,” the Administrator smiled in feigned embarrassment at his faux pas, “your Majesty.”
When the Administrator departed, Gwen focused her attention on Cuix. Karl watched and listened to the calm and efficient way Gwen issued commands. It was then he abruptly realized that his constant infatuation was absent. Also absent was his indecisiveness concerning the completion of this quest and moving on to the bridge. He frowned that he had actually contemplated remaining here.