by Keith Ahrens
“Well, ogres and their ilk are not that smart; we may be able to trick them away,” speculates Thorn.
“We don't have any fireballs left, correct?” I ask.
Haynes and Des shake their heads 'no.'
“Well, I for one, say we need to attack straight away, no more slinking about like the damn Rebs. We may suffer a few losses, but the rest will win the day and their freedom!” Jesse breaks in, eager and excited. The smile on his face makes me more than a little uneasy.
“Negative!” Olivia says sharply. “I'm not willing to sacrifice anyone else to these bastards! There’s got to be another way. A simple distraction, maybe pick them off in small groups instead of from behind fortified walls.”
“Nay, lassie, that'll take too long, we may have more elves chasing our tails! We'd be caught betwixt them and surely be killed,” argues Jesse.
“Hey, Jesse… you feeling all right?” asks Des, with a concerned look.
“Ha! Aye, my friend, better than I have in a good long while! I feel as if I'm awakening from a nightmare, what with our freedom so close at hand!” Jesse replies with a grin.
“Oh, yeah! I think we can all agree with that!” Grayson's deep voice is filled with mirth.
A few chuckles are the only response either receive to this.
“We're not home yet, folks, so stay focused. This is gonna be a tough road. Nightfall is approaching and the sun will be setting soon. I think it would be best if we camped here tonight and set out at dawn,” Sarge brings the mood back down a bit.
“Agreed, besides, the ogres and gobs seem to be more alert at night. Maybe we can catch them napping at sunrise,” replies Olivia. “Meanwhile, let’s set up two-person watches for the night so we don't get snuck up on again.”
“Sounds good. We can all try to think of some kind of plan for tomorrow. We may not have much in the way of info, but any ideas prove useful. Everyone get some rest, except for those on watch. Olivia, would you set up the schedule?”
“Not a problem.”
“We do have a problem, or rather, several problems…” Thorn says quietly, but loud enough to get everyone's attention. “My mentor and friend, Osmanthus Wylde, was killed before we could effect our escape.”
Silence meets this statement. Colt is the first to offer a condolence, “Ma'am, we're all really sorry to hear about your loss, but we've all lost a lot of people these past few years.”
“No, you don't understand. Osmanthus has—had connections in the mortal world. He could have found us allies and protected us from the vengeful Fey who could come after us,” she responds, tears evident in her voice.
“Once we're home, I don't think I want anything more to do with these damn elves…. No offense intended, Thorn,” says Olivia, somewhat lacking in tact.
Thorn sighs. “I understand your feelings and sentiments and even agree with them. However, wishing to be left alone will not protect us against the jealous Fey who will send wave after wave of fodder and mercenaries to capture or kill us. You see, they fought hard to gain this land, and they guard its secret closely. If they know that even one human can reveal it and jeopardize their home, they will stop at nothing to destroy that human. We are not safe even once we cross the gate.”
“And this Osmanthus knew people who could hide us?” I ask. “I for one don't want to hide. I want to get back to my normal life, salvage what I can, and forget this whole nightmare ever happened.”
She smiles sadly at me and our whole group. “Alas, they will not let you.”
“Well, we can cross that bridge when we get there. One problem at a time. For now, everyone get some rest,” says Haynes, making it clear the conversation is over.
The group begins to break up and drift back to the wagons to figure out sleeping arrangements and vantage points for lookouts. I casually walk over to where Jesse's vacated seat. His MRE is still sitting on a small log next to where he was. I crouch down and pick up the torn plastic foil package and dump it out. All the items inside are still sealed and untouched. Jesse hadn't eaten anything at all.
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I can get a little paranoid at times, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't exercise a little caution here. I catch up with Olivia before she's worked out all the watch assignments.
“Hey, put me on watch with Jesse, okay?” I say to her.
She stops and looks at me with some scrutiny. “You got a thing for crazy, bearded men, or is there something I should know about?”
“Probably not, but I just want to keep an eye on him to be sure.”
“All right, you two take second watch. I'll take third with Grayson. We'll let Haynes and Thorn take first so they can get a solid block of sleep. Those two are wiped out. Then Miles and Jimmy. Des and Vince can take last watch. The Gnolls can take any watch they want; they don't seem to sleep much. Wake me up if something else seems 'off' to you, okay?” She stares hard at me.
From her experience as a cop, I think she knows I'm withholding some information, but I don't want to cause Jesse any more problems. Maybe he's just holding out for better food. Maybe he's just a little more mentally deranged than I thought. Yet, I can't get past the pistol in his hand when he snuck up behind me. Until then, he seemed very loyal to all of us. Now he just seems off. Was this his real personality truly coming out? Had all the fighting triggered something deep inside of him?
Even though the sun is just starting to set, I find myself a spot inside one of the wagons and stake a claim to it. After a short mental debate, I compromise and take off my chest armor, gauntlets, and helmet. It would be impossible to get comfortable wearing all that. I pile everything on the floor next to me with the mace on top, leaving it within easy reach. I lie down on the bench and do my best not to think about the trail of dead and injured people that we… no, the ones I have left behind.
Too tired to dwell much on that thought, I'm asleep before I realize it, my dreams starting up right away.
22
A few minutes or hours later, I feel a hand on my shoulder attempting to rouse me. I sit up with a start, confused for a second, until I remember where I am. Haynes has taken a step back, just out of reach.
“Sorry, Sarge. You just surprised me.”
“No problem. Your turn for watch. We went through the dead bodies and found some useful gear. And these,” he says and hands me two smooth rocks, but it’s too dark to see how deep their color is. “Thorn said you were out of healing stones. Look through the weapons and armor; see if there's anything better than what you have.”
I rub some sleep crust from my eyes. “Okay, cool. Hey, Sarge… anything strange happen while you and Jesse were out scouting the trail?”
“Strange? Like what?” I can almost see the puzzled expression on his face despite the gloom.
“I don't know… like anything weird or unusual?”
“I don't think so. You'd have to ask Jesse. We separated for a while to cover more ground. He found the horse, and I found the MREs. I took the horses after that, and he scouted the woods on the way back. What’s going on, Caleb?” He looks at me, suspicion in his voice as his countenance darkens.
“Really, Sarge, it’s probably nothing. I just noticed Jesse was acting a little… weirder than usual when you guys got back. Maybe I'm just being a little paranoid.”
“Yeah, maybe. Keep in mind that Jesse is a good man and has had my back for a long time. You'd better be sure there's something really wrong before you do anything. The last thing we need is dissension in this group. And one more thing I'd like you to remember, I consider Jesse to be family,” Haynes finishes, a hard tone in his voice and a bit of a threatening look in his stern gaze.
“5x5, Sarge." I gather my gear as Haynes leaves. Great, I may have just alienated the leader of our little cadre, and if I'm wrong, I’ll also look like a giant jerk. I mean, I haven't known Jesse all that long, maybe this is how he really is. You know… sneaky and quick to pull a gun on a friend.
Stiff and cold, I climb f
rom the back of the wagon. I fumble with some of my gear as I hit the ground and nearly trip over my own mace. Shoot, I could use a cup of coffee.
There's still a soft glow of dull orange radiating from the rocks Des had heated hours ago. Most of the group bedded down in a rough circle around the hot stones, sleeping in some comfort for a change. Wish I'd thought of that. I now realize how cranky and whiny I'm sounding, even to myself.
Jesse walks into view on the other side of the heated stones. He gives me a jaunty and sarcastic salute along with a small grin. I mimic the gesture as he passes out of sight beyond the wagons. I find the pile of equipment and weapons Haynes had mentioned, and look down at my own gear. Most of it is dented and blood-stained. A few parts are on the verge of falling off.
I walk directly to the pile and begin sifting through my options. There are four other breastplates, so I hold my own battered and broken one up to each. The third one is about the same size, so I inspect it a little closer. The light of the full moon is bright enough at the moment to give me light for a better look.
This plate is lighter than mine with some engraved filigree. Seems to be the same type of metal as the arrowhead. Despite the battering, all the elves had taken during our battle in flight, this bit of armor seems in great shape. Even in the moonlight, I can tell it’s shiny and well crafted. I take a minute to work out the straps and settle it over my shoulders, chest, and back.
The backplate meets the breastplate over my shoulder and around my ribs. I can feel its lightness already, and it even seems to fit better than my old stuff. The shoulder plates sit more comfortably and allow me greater range of movement. I quickly check through the rest of the armor and whatnots, but nothing else fits or would be useful to me, except a long-bladed dagger. It’s a double-edged blade almost a foot in length, held in a thick leather sheath. I see some runes etched into the blade that seem to match some of the engravings on my new breastplate. I slide my belt through the loop on the sheath and hang my mace next to it. Finally, I put my old, battered helmet and gauntlets back on.
Pressing a finger to my tat, the sheet pops into view. I scan down to Armor and Equipment and see “Breastplate of Warding +2” and Dagger +1 listed. Cool, magic items! But wait a sec, I scroll back up. Under Class, it now reads, “Fighter 12/Healer 1.” With a smile, I press the new, blue tattoo on my right wrist:
Cell# K4644
Prisoner # 5925
Magic Abilities And Spells
Spells Known: Minor Healing 1d8 +1
Spells Available: None
Maximum Number of Spells: 1 Per Day
Number of Spells Available: None
Property of Lord Dullahan of Terram Caeruleum
Holy crap, I really did it. I’m a magic user. I wonder what will happen with that when we cross back to the real world?
Still thinking about it, I climb on top of a wagon to start my watch. Between the fighting, running, and healing, I’m freakin’ exhausted. Jesse is sitting atop the next wagon, cross-legged and relaxed. He appraises me with a long look.
“Say there, Caleb. Ye still look a bit bushed. Why don't ye catch another forty winks? I sure don't mind keeping watch by my own self,” Jesse says by way of greeting.
“Nah, Jess. I'm wide awake and good to go. But if you need a nap, go ahead. I got this,” I say with a smile plastered on my face.
He regards me for a moment and then replies with the same forced smile, “Suit yourself. Gonna be a long night.”
I nod to be friendly before scanning the area with a watchful eye. He looks off in the other direction. A half-hour or so passes without incident. I've spent a fair bit of time camping, and this forest is akin to any other woodland area I've been in at night. Plenty of insect and small animal noises begin to reach my ears as the nocturnal creatures come out to forage and go about their normal routine. The only thing of note is the new horse. He seems nervous and restless, pulling at the tether that ties him to the wagon.
Jesse notices it also. For a second, he bounces a rock a couple of times in his hand. Then, without warning, he throws it, hitting the horse in the flank. He chuckles as the horse stamps its hooves and rolls its eyes, pulling harder on the leather line. Jesse bounces another stone in his palm, and the horse begins to neigh more frantically.
“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Knock it off!” I get up to one knee, angry.
“Oh, calm down, partner, it’s just a dumb animal,” Jesse replies with a grin.
He seems to understand I'm serious after a few moments of my silent, tense stare. “All right…” he says with a dejected sigh. He tosses the pebble over his shoulder and stands up. “I'm gonna go take a walk around the perimeter of our little camp. Be back in a few minutes.”
Without waiting for a reply, he hops off the wagon on the opposite side and out of sight. The horses seem to settle a bit with him away from view.
I really don't like this. We shouldn't be splitting up, and now I'm not sure which direction he went. He seemed to just melt into the shadows. I look down and do a quick headcount; everyone except the Gnolls seems accounted for and sound asleep.
A few slow minutes pass until a loud cracking noise, followed by a dull thump, interrupts the usual night noises. A heavy silence blankets the area; gone are the small animal and insect noises. Haynes and Vince stir in their sleep. Vince sits up partway. Haynes awakens and makes eye contact with me while putting a protective arm around Thorn, who’s curled up next to him like a little spoon.
“Relax, I'll check it out. Go back to sleep,” I whisper to him as I climb down from the wagon. He nods and closes his eyes.
I hold my revolver in my right hand and the penlight in my left. Not the best source of light, but it’s all I got. I choose the pistol over the mace for one simple reason. Noise. If something happens, nothing wakes people up faster than a gunshot.
I leave the clearing in the direction of the crashing sound. Stepping under the canopy of the treetops, I'm cut off from the bright moonlight and plunged into the shadows.
“Jesse… Jess… you out there?” I call out. No answer. I move deeper into the brush and click on the penlight. Sweeping the beam around, I see nothing that could've caused the noise. I click the light off and stand still, listening. Yet no sounds reach my ears, not even a whisper in the wind as the eerie quiet surrounds me.
About a minute passes, when I hear another cracking and thumping noise about a hundred feet or so further away from the camp. I hesitate for just a moment, then decide to go check it out.
My boots aren’t made for stealth, so I end up making more noise than I want to while tramping through the thicket. I stop every ten or fifteen yards and listen for a moment. Still nothing. I get to the approximate spot I think the noise came from and again see nothing in the dim penlight.
A crash and thudding noise splits the air once more, this time further off. I stop and crouch down, finally recognizing this 'carrot on the stick’ for what it is. Damn, I'm dense sometimes.
A twig snaps behind me, and I swiftly spin around, just in time to catch a freight train to the side of my head.
My next organized thought is the sensation of my ears are ringing. I vaguely notice that my helmet is no longer on my head. This time, I've ended up face down in the dead leaves and dirt. I feel a hard boot slam down in the middle of my back. I try to roll to the side, but the foot keeps me pinned to the ground.
The weight on my back shifts, and I guess that whoever's there is winding up for another swing with whatever they just hit me with. Out of desperation, I manage to twist just enough to get the pistol over my shoulder. I pull the trigger twice and flinch as hot powder and deafening thunder explode right next to my ear. A loud grunt comes back, and the crushing weight disappears.
I drop the empty gun as I scramble to my feet and pull my mace. I stumble as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Through blurry eyes, I see a shadow race through the underbrush and merge with the gloom. I take a few steps to give chase, but the dizzines
s returns, and I drop to one knee, too nauseous to move forward.
I take a few deep breaths until the world stops spinning and my nausea passes. In the distance, I hear a wolf-like howl, answered quickly by another, deeper howl, close by. A moment later, the leaves of some bushes rustle, and a large wolf-form leaps into the small clearing. It comes forward on four legs and then stands up on its hind legs, drawing a heavy sword. I recognize Thirax and let out a sigh of relief. He howls again, and Nian answers, much closer this time.
“What did this, and where did it go?” Thirax growls his question.
“I don't know, but it went that way,” I point off into the dark forest.
Thirax drops back down to all fours and sniffs the ground and the leaves.
“Nothing. No scent, no trail to follow,” he snorts through his nose.
Nian lopes into the clearing, sword in hand. Thirax catches him up in a terse series of growls.
“Let’s get back to camp; something led me here and then tried to take me out. I think the camp may be in danger,” I say as I grab my helmet and begin trampling through the underbrush. Thirax darts on ahead, but Nian stays and keeps pace with me.
We run as fast as I can through the darkened woods, hoping we make it in time. I want to shout to alert the rest of our group, but I know if the gunshots didn't do it, my shouting will only give away our position.
The moonlit clearing of our camp comes into view through the thick foliage. The three of us stop and spread out about ten feet apart at the edge of the light's reach. A low thick fog seems to have settled over the glade in the few minutes I've been gone. It might be a trick of the full moon, but the fog seems to have a blueish-silver glow to it.
The wind shifts and picks up a little. We see the silhouette of a body lying near the heated stones, not moving, and it's too obscured to see if they are breathing. Even the horses are lying down, also too still. Thirax growls in anger and charges into the camp.