by Shawn Muller
The trip itself was over quickly, if not boring. Fremod was sick the whole way while the rest of us took the chance to just rest and relax while we could. All too soon land was spotted and the ship gently docked at a small, discreet dock. I led the platoon off the ship, Fremod crawling on hands and knees over the gang-plank onto the wharf, where he kissed the ground in relief. Chuckling at the sight, I thanked the captain and led the men to a largish warehouse just off the wharf. There the local mayor and guard commander would meet with us with the horses and supplies we needed.
The mayor stood just outside the door wearing simple workman’s clothing, next to him stood the garrison commander dressed in a simple chainmail vest over a plain white linen shirt and soft brown leather breaches.
“Welcome to Plenty. This here is Captain Jun. I understand the need for some secrecy here. We have for a while suspected that the bandit group might have had a spy or two in the town itself and in Bereken as well. I’m Jored, mayor of this here town, and also one of the local fishermen.”
“Pleasure to meet you sir, my name’s Bob. Hear you got some supplies for us?”
“Sure do. Your horses are around back with a few bails of dried fish and meat. Also, a large crate was left there as well. Fellows said it was for this here troll. Your secret is safe with us. This warehouse belongs to me and I don’t use it so much anymore. Jun here has a few very reliable men staking out the road leading here to make sure we won’t be bugged much.”
“We all heard about your exploits against the trolls, but to see one here is unbelievable,” Captain Jun said in awe.
“I suggest that when you leave our town, it is done sometime after dark. Head north along the path behind the warehouse until it swings around that small hill there,” Mayor Jored explained. “Once around it y’all will be outta sight of the town, and then head back south east until you hit the main highway that runs between us and Bereken.”
Thanking him, we went straight to the supplies in the warehouse while the mayor and the captain headed back towards the town. The horses were kept in a small barn at the back of the warehouse, while the small bails of supplies were stacked on wooden shelves in the warehouse itself. Under that was a huge chest, obviously meant for Fremod, who walked straight towards it. Kneeling down before the chest, he withdrew a large brass key from a pouch and opened the chest to peer within. A deep chuckle escaped him as he pulled out the items from the chest - a large leather coat, big enough to hang past Fremod’s knees, an ornamental dagger the size of my short sword, a leather backpack, and a short-handled maul covered with runes and engravings. Fremod handled the man-sized war hammer with reverence, looking it over as he turned it this way and that.
“This was my great-grandsires’. He carried this with him when he set about to unite the troll clans. It is generally handed down from father to son as a sign of great respect and as a mark of being the next ruler. For me to carry this is the single greatest honour ever bestowed on me by my father.” A single tear ran down his face as he gently laid it down on top of the leather bag.
“Does this mean you are the chosen heir?” I asked him.
“No, Rodic the Gentle has been chosen by the council. But this is recognition as being chosen by my father as his voice outside of the troll lands.”
Fremod donned on his new leather coat, filled his bag with supplies and sat down to polish the giant hammerhead. Shaking my head at the complexity of the trolls, I directed the rest of the platoon to load the extra supplies on the spare mules that were provided for us as well.
With time pressing on and dusk starting to settle, I ordered the men to make a temporary camp right where we were. While a quick meal was being prepared, I called my officers together, including the elf and troll.
“Right. The latest intel we have received is of a large caravan that was hit about two days’ ride from here. Initial reports from the survivors indicate about fifty bandits hit them while they were setting up a camp for the night. By their description of the bandits and of other caravans that have been raided, it seems that the bandit size varies accordingly. With smaller groups hitting small caravans up and down the road between here and Bereken, as well as north of Bereken towards Appleton. It seems that it is one large bandit group, ranging between one hundred and one hundred and fifty men. Our job is to locate their base camp and to eliminate any leaders identified. If possible, break up the camp entirely.” I paused and looked at my men, noting their emotion free faces.
“Bereken is about four days ride from here on horseback, about a week for a caravan. Most of the caravans travel north along the highway towards Appleton before heading to Sakyno. Due to the troll raids that happened in the past, it was the safest route, albeit longer. Some traffic does run from here to Bereken, mostly merchants on fast carriages and a few of the more perishable goods. It is believed by the prince and his advisors that the bandits will be somewhere northwest of Bereken, within a few days of riding. They wouldn’t dare raid Bereken itself, as that city is as well defended as Doorengaan. It was originally built to protect the farmers on this rich food-growing plain.”
“What about the farms themselves? Any attacks on them?” Max asked.
“Not yet. It seems that the farms are all part of a collective here. Massive walled compounds were built to house various farming families and the farm hands. This was done to protect them from any troll raids that may happen. The farms may be too well protected for the bandits to attack, but things can change at any time as we all know,” I said grimly.
Experience showed that battlefields changed so quickly, that any plans made beforehand could be thrown out the window once the fighting starts.
“Any comments?” I asked the men.
Suggestions and questions flew thick, as we hammered out a strategy for finding and dealing with the bandit group. It was going to be a lot harder here than on Earth. Without the aid of technology we were going in blind. Finally I called an end to the meeting and we settled down to eat before heading out after dark.
Before dawn broke over the horizon, we were on the road heading towards Bereken, having left the warehouse close to midnight and carefully walking the horses around the hill in the dark until we finally found the highway. Tachojay ranged ahead of us as a scout, with Fremod loping alongside us easily. By midday we came across the caravan that had been attacked. Almost all the guards were seriously wounded in one way or another, with the wagons all showing signs of damage. I halted next to the lead wagon while the platoon spread out to form a protective ring around us. I greeted the lead merchant, who had a bandage wrapped around his head, blood still oozing above his eyes. I introduced myself and explained why I had stopped him, while Max started questioning another driver and Titanius and Deez interviewed the guards. It was established that the bandits had attacked the caravan, but only killed those who put up serious resistance, mostly the guards. Those who surrendered were rounded up while the wagons were looted for any valuables, weapons and non-perishable foods before the bandits headed north carrying their own dead and wounded. Asked if they saw any leaders, or any other bandits that stood out more than the other, they answered yes. A fairly large bandit, with an eye patch covering his left eye seem to be directing the gang.
“That sounds like the same man who was directing the bandits that attacked the caravan I worked on,” Titanius said. “He had a white skull painted on the eye patch and wore pretty neat clothing compared to the others, with some big gems on his fingers.”
The caravan leader agreed with the description adding that he now wore heavy gold chains around his neck and he seemed to have a second in command, a bald man, thick bellied carrying a whip that he would use to cower the captives. He wanted to take the women with, but One-eye, as we nicknamed him, refused to which seemed to have caused some tension amongst the two. Baldy relented and left the women passengers behind as the bandits rode off.
Thanking the merchants, we rode off once more along the highway. Before sunset, we found a
small thicket just off the road where we made camp. Max set the guards for the night while I sat thinking of our next move. We really need to get some recon. Without know where the bandits were, or how many there were exactly, would make an effective strike on them useless. I didn’t want to go blundering into such a large group with only the twenty odd men of mine, no matter how good we were. I wanted to pick the time and place for the attack. I strolled over to where Thackeray was pitching his tent to ask him something.
“Hey Thackeray, do you have a spell that can detect people at a great distance?”
“No, don’t think one like that exists yet. Why you ask?”
“Trying to think of a way we can find these bandits before they find us.”
“Mmm, I got a spell that can detect animals from about a kilometre away,” he added.
“Can you tell what type of animal it is?”
“No, only the size of it, how many and how far away it is.”
“How long does the spell last?”
“Well, if I don’t get distracted, most of the day. But after a few days I begin to wear out and need to rest. Spells drain a lot from your inner being and one has to be careful not draw too much otherwise it can backfire.”
I stared off into the night, thinking about this spell and how to use it effectively.
“Okay, can you cast it now and let me know what’s out there?” I asked.
“Sure, give me a moment and I will let you know.”
I nodded my thanks and left him to his preparations. Tachojay called me over to where he was sharing a space with Fremod.
“Sir, I am known far and wide as the best tracker within the elven tribes. Perhaps I should leave you to find the trail of the bandits and see where they are headed?” he suggested.
“For now, let’s stick together. Once we reach the ambush site where the caravans were attacked, then perhaps you can search for a trail,” he bowed his head as I returned to the fire.
A few minutes later Thackeray joined me at the fire with his meal in one hand.
“All that’s out there are very small animals, probably mice and other things like that, and a few larger animals, dog sized that are criss-crossing the plains, probably jackals hunting the mice.”
“Thanks, now, can you set that spell to alert you if anything bigger enters its boundary?”
“Yes, but then I need to be awake to keep the spell up.”
“Damn, we gonna need more mages then,” I muttered to myself.
Thackeray just smiled as we finished our supper before going to sleep.
Once again we were heading off on the highway before the sun could peek its head over the horizon. I wanted to reach the caravans ambush site as soon as possible before the trail got too cold for Tachojay to follow. We reached it well before midday and immediately Tachojay began searching the ground for any traces of the bandits’ trail. I ordered Thackeray to try that spell of his again, just in case. Fremod walked around the campsite wearing his new leather coat. He seemed to blend into the background rather well with this. When he stood still he was almost invisible against the gentle rolling hills of brown grass behind him. Tachojay straightened and motioned for me to join him.
“I found a faint trail heading north over the small hill in front of us. They must have been trailing the caravan for some time before circling it to hide behind this hill. After that, well, the blood stains on the ground and the caravan’s stories tell the rest. I suggest we take a look other side the hill to see which way they went.”
I agreed with him and followed him. Accompanied by Fremod and the dwarves, we made our way to the top of the hill. Below us stretched the Plains of Plenty, so named because of the rich, crop-producing soil found here. Golden brown, knee-high grass stretched as far as the eye could see, gentle rolling hills scattered here and there along with lonely copses of trees that dotted the landscape. Dark thunder clouds could be seen many kilometres away, far to the north as a spring storm erupted. Tachojay looked expertly at the ground around him and walked down to the base of the hill, followed by Fremod who joined in on the trail hunt. Max and Thackeray joined me on the hilltop, both admiring the beauty of the land before us.
“So far no signs of anything big out there. Although I think we would be able to see them before my spell could,” Thackeray added.
I nodded at that statement while we waited for the elf to find something. Soon he indicated a direction in which to travel, still heading north. Max signalled for the rest of the platoon to join us, Deez bringing my horse for me, and we set off once more after the bandits at a walk while Tachojay and Fremod followed the bandits’ trail.
After a few hours, the wind began to pick up with the smell of rain being carried by it. Tachojay led us to a large copse of trees, where we found a temporary camp the bandit group had made. We quickly tied off the mules and horses and hastily set up camp under a few of the lean-tos the bandits had left before the thunderstorm blew over us.
We had a cold, miserable night while the fierce thunderstorm lashed down bolts of lightning and a continuous deluge of rain, well into the morning. Eventually the rain stopped and we emerged wet and cold as an icy wind followed in the rain’s wake. A fire was made, and soon a warm breakfast of porridge was cooking over the fire while we tried to dry ourselves off. Tachojay looked around the campsite, shaking his head and muttering to himself, obviously irritated by something.
“The damn trail has been washed away,” was all he snarled at me when I asked him what was wrong.
Carl called me over to a few small mounds that were not too far away from the lean-tos. A hand stuck out of one. I directed some of the men to dig up the body, only to discover five more. These were the bandits who had either died or had been wounded during the caravan attack. The bodies had been stripped of all their clothing and were buried naked.
It was almost midday by the time we were ready to try track the bandits again. I had decided to carry on heading north for now, as that was the direction in which we had been heading before the rain. Once again Tachojay rode ahead with Fremod keeping pace with me in the front of the column.
“Hey, Fremod, have you noticed your leather coat changes colour with the background?”
“What? No I never knew that, sir,” he told me, surprised.
“Damn useful that. Pity your fur is so white, though. Makes you stick out like a sore thumb,” Max commented.
“Don’t worry about that. My fur changes colour with the seasons and also with the area I am in. Within a few days my fur will be a similar brown to this grass,” Fremod explained, rather pleased.
Max shook his head in amazement while I just smiled.
Ahead of us was another small hill where Tachojay stood waiting for us. I nudged the horse into a canter and quickly joined him there. He pointed at something in the far distance, just slightly north east of us. Straining my eyes, I could see two distant figures on horseback, walking in an easterly direction. I rode back to the rest of the squad who stood waiting at the bottom of the hill and gave the orders to change course to intercept the two riders. Tachojay kicked his horse into a gallop as he left the hill to find a closer vantage point while the rest of us spurred our horses into an easy canter. It didn’t take us too long to get close to the two riders. They had obviously spotted us at some stage and stood waiting on a hill for us. Tachojay had unslung his short composite bow and was covering them while we approached. The platoon quickly spread out to surround the two men, while Max, Fremod and I slowly approached them.
“Crikey mate! That’s a big one!” was the surprised exclamation from one rider.
An audible groan was heard from behind me as Deez instantly recognised the accent as I had.
“You’re a long way from catching sheep,” I replied with a grin.
“G’day mate. Glad to see we’re not the only buggers here from Earth. My name’s Bruce Mackay and this here talkative fellow is Ivan Koslov,” Bruce introduced himself and Ivan.
“I’m Bob,
captain of the Ghost Platoon. This is Max my lieutenant and Fremod, my sergeant and representative from the King Trolls,” I introduced us to the two from home.
“Pleased to be meeting you comrade, I was very much afraid that we were the only ones here from Mother Earth. Thank goodness this loud mouth here has somebody else to talk to before I have to cut his tongue out,” Ivan said in a heavy Russian accent.
I smiled as the rest of the platoon closed ranks and introduced themselves to the two men. I gave the order to set camp at the bottom of the hill while we listened to Bruce and Ivan’s story.
Bruce was from Perth, Australia, and had belonged to the Australian SAS before meeting up with the same old man we had all met some time or another. He had also woken here on Curixeus one day after being thrown through the portal. Ivan was from St Petersburg and was a corporal in the Spetsnaz. He too met the old man, this time while on an assignment fighting Iranian insurgents.