by RW Krpoun
“Three axes, three swords, some short-edged stuff, and some loot.”
“Then we’re done, except for the artifact.”
“What about that?” Jeff said, pointing.
“What?” Derek looked in the direction the Night-grifter was pointing.
“That right there-it looks kind of like stained glass. By the Dwarf with half a spear sticking up through his helmet. A fancy helmet, by the way.”
“Fred…”
“Moving.” The Talons eased gingerly over the bodies.
“What is it?” Shad asked without looking away from his sector.
“It is an artifact.” The Shadowmancer’s voice was reverent.
“You’re sure? What kind?’
“Yeah, I’m sure; its something heavy-weight. Major mojo.”
Shad risked a glance: the item Derek was gingerly manipulating into its carrying case appeared to be a row of glass tubes, each around a foot long, mounted on a frame of ivory sections fastened together by green metal. The glass tubes were varicolored, and the colors seemed to swim like those of gasoline on water. “What is it, the xylophone of doom?”
“No, its not a musical instrument,” Derek managed to release a hidden catch and the assemble folded up. “My guess, and keep in mind just touching it is giving me a headache, is that it is a divination device of some sort.”
“Its powerful enough?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Sam, ditch the wood shafts of the empty bang sticks. We’re done here. As soon as it is in the case we’re leaving, Derek.”
“This was a Dwarven command group!” the Shadowmancer protested.
“Home, Derek: we’re going home. I don’t care if the One Ring is here, we’re getting quit of this hellhole because we just found half our ticket. Fred, pick the clearest path back to the cloudy day, choose the body you’re going to drag, and lets hit it.”
“About nine hundred yards to normal ground,” the barbarian announced as they started moving. “More or less.”
At eight hundred yards they paused very briefing to use Derek’s enchanted rope to snare an armored corpse which they pulled along behind their wedge.
Four revenants hit the Talons at the six hundred yard mark, coming in from all sides, and for the first time they moved with speed when they crossed the ten foot mark.
The one coming from the east took two arrows as it closed with a white-faced Sam. The Bard managed to parry the incoming swings as Derek shot it again, doing surprisingly well until the revenant’s right blade punched through the boss on his buckler. Sam parried the next slash with his sword-rapier but was too slow in getting the blade back on guard, and the next slashed opened his thigh almost to the bone.
Derek put an arrow into the Undead creature’s skull and then dove to the side, catching a minor cut on his shoulder from the bone-blade that hissed through the place his throat had just been. He landed hard, dropping his bow and clawing for his short sword as the revenant loomed over him. His blade was half out of its sheath as the thing’s left blade started the downward thrust, too little too late, until Jeff hit the revenant with a bang stick and the Undead burst into its smoky death throes.
The other revenants were down; grabbing his bow the Shadowmancer scurried on all fours to where a gasping Sam was clutching his gushing wound. Ripping the stopper from the cow horn Derek carefully poured the thin green liquid of the healing potion into the wound, slowing the bleeding immediately. Digging the other potion (the one Shad had given him in the Moors) from his pouch he added it to the gaping cut.
Checking over his shoulder he saw Shad using charms on Fred, who was on one knee bleeding from his side. Pulling out the first aid supplies from his other pouch he began binding the cut together and tying on wadded cotton to help stem the much-slowed bleeding.
So intent was he on his task that Shad suddenly kneeling next to him startled him nearly to his feet.
“How bad?” The Jinxsman ran bloody fingers across the bandage.
“Top of the thigh, nearly to the bone. Missed the femoral, I put in both healing potions.”
“We could use more of those.” Shad held an anti-bleeding charm to the bandage and spoke a word, then repeated the act. “OK, cut the bandage off.” He used three healing charms in quick succession, leaving a long but nearly healed cut where there was once a gaping wound. “Stand him up, see if it will support him.”
Back on his feet Sam tried to brush away Derek’s helping hands. “I can walk.”
“Bandage him up with clean bandages-I’m down to two healing charms.” The Jinxman lifted the empty bang sticks from Sam and slung them from his own shoulders. “Work fast.”
Limping and helping each other the Talons trudged through the green spring grass, cursing the sunlight and the pain of the cuts and bruises. Sam began flagging at the three hundred yard mark and Shad used another charm on his wound which buoyed the Bard up enough to stagger the rest of the distance.
“Thank the Lord,” Shad slumped to the dusty grass under the gray sky, the powder-fouled iron business ends of the bang sticks clattering against each other.
“Amen,” Jeff gasped before taking a long pull from his canteen and passing it around.
“How many bang sticks are left?” Derek asked while he waited for the canteen.
“Loaded? None,” Shad leaned over to inspect Derek’s cut shoulder. “Fred got hit at the onset and we had to use all of them to stay alive. The bastards parried two bang sticks so that they missed-they are definitely learning. You’re bleeding pretty bad, hold still.” He used an anti-bleeding charm and then followed it with his last healing charm, healing the wound. “That’s it: we are out of bang sticks, buffs, and all healing ability.”
“And about out of ‘can do’,” Jeff said from where he lay on his back. “I’m done with that place.”
“We all are,” the Jinxman agreed tiredly. “That thing better be good enough.”
“If its not we can make up the difference by trading the secret of the bang sticks,” Sam said faintly.
“Great idea.”
They buried the body they had towed off the Field and marked the grave with a length of deadwood topped with the fallen warrior’s split helm. When they had finished Fred suggested distributing and hiding the loot as best they could before setting off for the fort, an effort that was helped by a light rain that started before they were halfway back; their rain cloaks covered nearly all the gear.
Justin was sitting on a chair in front of his quarters washing turnips in a bucket. “How was the hunting?”
“Miserable,” Shad snapped. “We’re leaving tomorrow.’
“No luck at all?”
“Less than yesterday, with more blood lost,” Jeff said wearily.
“Its not quite noon,” Derek sighed as they trooped into their quarters.
“Doesn’t matter to me-I’m going to sleep until dawn,” Jeff yawned, hanging his rain cloak on a handy peg.
“Good idea-the charms don’t fully replace the lost blood, and there’s the issue of shock to the system,” Shad agreed. “Sleep will let your body sort out some of the chemical issues, too.”
“Just like Iraq: when you have down time, check your gear and sleep as much as you can,” Derek said, slumping into a bench and started to unbuckle his bracers.
“Yeah, nothing like jogging a mile through Hell to really take the shine off your day,” Shad sat on the bench opposite the Shadowmancer and opened his tool roll. “I’ve got to knock out some healing charms. Margit, is there any tea? Thank you.”
“We moved the experience line quite a bit,” Derek held up his bare forearm.
“With a little luck we’ll leave here before we hit level six. Or not much after, if everything goes to plan,” Shad said.
“Amen to that.”
The evening meal was cold ham on flatbread, eaten whenever the individual Talons felt the need. Fred, Sam, and Jeff slept a great deal to allow their bodies to recover; Shad made charms but turned
in early, while Derek examined the loot and made armor repairs.
The next morning Margit used the last of the ham and potatoes for another stew which was well-received. “So call the roll,” Shad told Derek. “What did we get?”
“Some junk, of course. One enchanted sword which hits harder than usual, two enchanted axes, but one only works for Dwarves, the other boosts damage and does double damage to Orcs and Goblins.”
“Score!” Fred grinned.
“We have a set of lamellar armor that needs a good cleaning in a barrel of sand and all the leather replaced; its not enchanted but is of superb quality.”
“And the crowd goes wild,” Fred made crowd noises.
“A torc which confers the same protection as a full-face helm, a pendant that affords some armor protection to someone who doesn’t wear armor, and about two hundred coins. And two swords and an axe of exceptional quality but no enchantment. And four Dwarven-forged daggers. Plus the artifact, of course.”
“OK, Derek’s the only one not wearing armor, so he gets the pendant,” Shad shrugged. “I get the sword, Fred the axe and armor, and everyone who doesn’t have a Dwarven-forged dagger gets one, including Margit. We dice for the torc, except for Fred.’
“Hey!”
“You can wear a real helm,” Jeff elbowed the barbarian.
“What do we do with the excess Great Field gear?” Sam asked.
“See if the Assembly will buy it from us; I don’t really want to advertise we were here. Same with the coins. Speaking of which, Margit, keep your dagger out of sight-that thing is worth six ordinary blades.”
Jeff won the torc, which prompted multiple accusations of cheating and various denigrations of his integrity, which the Night-grifter ignored.
“I’m going to use a couple of charms on Durbin’s hoof, heal him up fully so he can carry for us-even with the field rations we’ve eaten Ula won’t be able to carry everything we’ve got.”
“Big as he is, he could carry our packs, too,” Jeff pointed out.
“We carry our packs. When we get to the river he’s going to be carrying furs. We’ll all be carrying furs from that point-both Durbin and Margit were overloaded.”
“Why bother with the furs?” Sam asked.
“We’re low on expense money,” Derek explained. “We can sell the furs without exciting comment. If the Assembly turns out to be a bust we’ll need a plan B.”
“Plan B is we just buy the components and go it alone,” Shad said grimly. “And may the Lord have mercy upon the souls of those who try to stop us.”
“I thought Plan B was just double the amount of explosives?” Jeff grinned.
They slumped out of their quarters, loaded the animals, and departed looking as disgruntled as possible, with no new gear visible. Pausing outside the fort to burn the bloody clothing from the day before, they headed west. “Anyone want one last look at the Great Field?” Sam asked.
“Screw that,” Fred grunted. “I left enough blood there for it to stay fresh on my mind.”
“Yeah, I saw more of it than I wanted to,” Shad agreed.
“We put a dent in the revenant population,” Derek observed. “We should clue other outlanders into the whole bang stick method.”
“We will if we encounter any. Sam, you know any way to contact intact groups?”
“The only one I had direct contact with has gone home.”
“Back burner, then.”
At their first rest break they broke out their new equipment. Fred’s double-bitted axe was black steel with swirls of small Nordic-looking runes filled in with gleaming bronze; its haft was dragon-bone bound with more gleaming brass, and despite all the brass it was no heavier than his ordinary weapon. Shad’s sword looked like Damascus steel with some red highlights in the metal, a light and well-balanced longsword with a Viking ‘three loaf’ pommel and a row of tiny runes picked out in silver down the blade’s blood gutter.
“My scabbard’s plain enough,” Shad mused. “Fred, keep your old axe until you can get a case or something for your new axe; carrying that thing in plain view in the City-State will just be asking for trouble.”
“At least until we get a few more levels,” Jeff agreed.
“I’m hoping to leave before we get another level,” the Jinxman shrugged.
“You know, this is really a great axe, but it doesn’t make yesterday worthwhile,” Fred mused. “Although it helps.”
Chapter Fourteen
Five day’s hard march later they made the last ferry before the City-State’s gates closed for the night. The Dancing Mermaid had rooms and the night’s menu was lamb stew, both welcome news.
“Man, that was pretty damn good,” Derek sighed as he mopped up the last of his second helping of stew with a chunk of bread.
“Another round and three more loaves,” Fred waved his bowl at a passing serving girl; Jeff and Shad raised theirs likewise.
“And the girl’s,” the Jinxman jerked a thumb towards Margit.
When the serving girl had brought the food, collected the payment, and left to serve other tables Jeff leaned close. “What’s the next move?”
“Sell the furs and ordinary gear, get clothes for Margit and to replace the stuff that got bloodied in the fight, and I make charms. Sam puts his ear to the ground, and we relax for a day or two. Then Sam needs to locate the Assembly and set up a meet.”
“I need arrows,” Derek observed. “Longer shafts would go better with my new bow.”
“Sam, you’ve got a lot of contacts here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Line up Margit with a situation, one where she can keep Durbin.” Catching the girl’s shocked look Shad held up a cautioning hand. “Our next job is going to be worse than the last one, and the job after that will end with us dead or gone for good. You’ve been a huge help and comfort to us, so we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. We’ll give you a cut of the value of the furs, and check in with you when we’re in the City-State, but you don’t need to get yourself killed following us around. And killed is exactly what you will get if you stay with us. Don’t worry, Sam will pick nice people who will treat you well. Got that, Sam?”
“Yeah, I know a couple candidates. I’ll check, and then Margit can choose which she likes best. First we’ll get her better clothes so she’ll be a proper young lady again.”
“What about Ula?” Jeff asked. “We can’t abandon her in the wild when we go home.”
“Wait until we get the specs on the next job,” Shad sighed. “But we won’t leave her in the lurch, either.”
The next four days were spent on relaxation and rest, along with some shopping for clothing and other needed equipment after the sale of the furs put them back into funds. Jeff restocked his materials and worked on toxins, Shad made charms, and Fred had a case made for his axe and got his new armor cleaned and fitted. Sam found Margit a position with a dairy farmer who had a daughter near her age; the girl would use Durbin and a cart to carry the dairy’s products into the City-State and would otherwise help out around the place. It seemed very well-suited, and Sam deposited her share of the sale of the furs with a reliable and reputable banking house against her future needs. If it became necessary the farm owner, whom Sam’s legal expertise had saved from a false allegation, was willing to give Ula a home as well.
On the fifth day Sam brought word that a representative of the Ebon Assembly was willing to meet with them on the following evening.
“You know this guy?” Shad asked as he carefully etched a row of tiny marks onto a twig.
“Yeah, I’ve met him before, in conjunction with the group who left. He’s a mage, goes by Astkar.”
“How many are in the Assembly?” Derek asked.
“I don’t know-I’ve only met Astkar. Unlike the Council of Twelve they don’t advertise themselves much.”
“So what are the Council of Twelve, exactly?” Jeff asked.
“Just what it says: a union of twelve really pote
nt mages. That’s why my group got a much more detailed briefing than you did: the Twelve operate pretty much as each member sees fit.”
“And who is Astkar within the Assembly?”
“The local face-man, and if I’m guessing right the local area chief. The Assembly got their people pretty close to the Ultimate Master and were responsible for the various projects and diversions that kept him distracted.”
“Does he know why we want a meet?”
“Given my last dealings with him, yeah, I would say he’s smart enough to figure it out.”
“Can we trust him?” Shad finished the charm and began selecting new components.
“Within reason; certainly no double-cross as long as we play fair. But don’t expect much in the way of haggling-he knows what we want, and he’ll get everything he can for it.”
“Well, then its off to see the wizard.”
“Can the Council still track us?” Jeff asked the group at large. The Talons were in their room at the Dancing Mermaid preparing to meet Astkar.
“The last meet was at the Fist, and she described the ability as only good for a lunar cycle,” Shad said thoughtfully. “Derek and I talked it over and between our class knowledge we decided the answer is ‘no’. The key point is if they have some sort of enchanted tracker in our gear.”
“But the odds of that is low,” Derek added. “Except for our boots everyone has ruined or discarded the clothes we came in. Virtually every weapon and piece of armor has been replaced, and several items of field gear as well. Fred’s bearskin is the most likely candidate, but I checked it out carefully, along with all our packs and remaining field gear.’
“Today marks sixty-two days in-country,” Shad said. “From what we know one lunar cycle seems to be a common effect duration for that sort of thing, and the local lunar cycle is twenty-eight days.”
“So twenty-eight days likely equals one hour of time passed back home,” Fred observed.
“Seems like. We’re two hours and change from our point of departure from home, plus transit time.”