Dark Key: Book Two of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  "So you're saying that even a group as mixed as us could pass unremarked upon in Alantarn," Durek mused.

  "Yes, with preparation and practice. We could pass as a Remur military unit, that is, one made up of Nepas and Thanes, or something similar. With a little make-up, Starr or I could pass as Nepas, and the rest of you as Thanes, whose ranks include Humans, Black Dwarves, and all manner of half-breeds."

  Durek nodded slowly. "Bridget, you and Henri locate places for make-up and costumes; get with Elonia to see what we might need, as I'll want every possible option we can have if we try this. Anyone else have any input? Shut up, Kroh. All right, everybody give it some thought. Run any plans past me, and as soon as we've got something workable we'll put it to the council."

  Arian stayed at his seat as the others left, frowning at his scribbled notes. Some kind of diversion...the value of the site...delay the progress....magical means...yes, there was something there.

  Outside and clear of the temple the group of mercenaries paused in the road, alone under a sky littered with slate-colored cloud-castles. “More insanity from Arian,” Roger muttered absently, a bit louder than he intended.

  “Perhaps it’s not his insanity, maybe it’s your nerve,” Starr sneered.

  “My nerve, you sawed-off tree-hugger?” The swordsman stepped in close to the little Threll, who bowed up fearlessly. “What do you know about nerve, novice?”

  “I know enough not to leave my fellow Badgers in the lurch!”

  “Are you calling me a coward, runt?”

  “If the scabbard fits!”

  There had been bad blood between the pair for two years, stemming back to an ambush in Dwarven ruins where Starr had accused Roger of deliberately minimizing his involvement in the fighting, an accusation made all the more damning by the desperate nature of the fight and the loss of a Badger’s life, slain while saving several children from Cave Goblins. The Company had cleared Roger of any direct malfeasance but Durek and the rest were less than happy with the whole affair. Both Starr and Roger were still bitter about the accusations and incident, and normally ignored each other as completely as possible.

  “I think it’s time you either stand by your words or hold them for good,” Roger snarled, fists doubled.

  “I think so, too,” Starr hissed, unbuckling her sword belt.

  Kroh grabbed a thick fistful of the back of Starr’s stout flannel tunic with one tattooed hand and effortlessly swung the kicking Lanthrell to the side. “Care to make me eat her words?” the Waybrother grinned at Roger.

  “She’s a Badger same as me, Kroh: let her fight her own fights,” the man jabbed a finger at Starr, who was struggling to free herself from the Dwarf’s grip.

  “She’s half your size.”

  “So’re you.”

  That gave the Waybrother pause. Before he could respond, Rolf stepped forward. “Fight her, and you’ll fight me.”

  Roger looked up at the somber half-Orc. “She talks, but you do her fighting, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t need your help, Rolf! Kroh, let go of me,” Starr snarled. “I’m not afraid of Roger.”

  “This is settled: if the two of you wish to fight, each of you will fight me,” Dmitri announced, stepping between Rolf and Roger, shouldering both back a pace. He eyed Rolf. “You can try your luck afterwards, if you want to.” Starr stopped struggling for freedom at the Serjeant’s pronouncement, and Roger took another step back of his own violation, while Rolf’s determination visibly wavered. “No takers? Good. There will be fighting enough in the weeks ahead. Go your separate ways, and remember: I’m always available if you want to start this argument again.”

  “I think I could take Roger, but Dmitri would pound my ears flat,” Starr mused as she, Rolf, and Kroh trudged down the street.

  “Not on your best day could you take Roger,” Kroh shook his head. “He’s eight inches taller, with a longer reach, more strength, and a lot more experience. Best leave things to me or Rolf. Although I would not pit Rolf against Dmitri.”

  “Rolf’s as tall, and stronger,” Starr defended her friend.

  “But Dmitri’s meaner,” Kroh shrugged. “He would beat Rolf into a pudding.”

  “Yes,” the big Badger nodded. “I’ve got to be....involved, but Dmitri, he’s tough all the time.”

  “Humnh.” Starr was dissatisfied with their estimations, but changed the subject. “How can you pass for a Black Dwarf, Kroh? Don’t they look different?”

  “Not really,” the Waybrother shrugged. “The Fortren, or Fallen, are the ancestors of Fuar, or Dwarf-clans, which sided with the Dark One during the Sundering. They created the Felher as slaves back in the first century, First Age; a hundred or so years later, the Felher rebelled in every Fortren Fuar. Seven years of war followed, with the Fallen not only dealing with slave revolts but opportunistic raids from outside; when the dust settled, the Dark-worshiping Fuars were gone, destroyed from within and without. Since then, the Fortren have existed as vassal-colonies and settlements in other Void-following nations and races, while the Felher spread out on their own. It was the Felher revolt which led to the banning of further creature-creation by the Dark Star and Hand of Chaos cult-nations. Anyway, they look like any other Dwarf who’s lived most of his or her life on the surface. You won’t see many smoking or chewing tabba, as they don’t get the damp-air problems that True Dwarves have, living underground. Me, I’ve been Outside enough so that I’ll have no problem passing for one, nor Durek, either.”

  It took three days, but Arian, with input from Elonia and Henri, came up with a plan. The next meeting was a great deal more somber, as even Kroh appreciated the dangers inherent with a raid on such a hold.

  "All right, everybody shut up: Arian's got a plan. I want you all to listen carefully and offer what advise you can, but understand this: the Phantom Badgers are going in after the Torc. That is final. The White Necromancer is stirring, Elonia’s Sight has confirmed it. The bounties on our heads have been doubled to fifty Marks apiece," Durek grimly surveyed the assembled members. "Fifty’s still low for warriors of our reputation, but it was only ten eighteen months ago. Sooner or later the liche is going to cut out the middleman and send a group to finish us for good.”

  “So, we go ahead with the plan because there are no other options available to us; we need the Torc and we need it soon. Next spring we have to move on the White Necromancer, and that means getting the Torc before we head home. If anyone doesn't want to go into Alantarn, put your insignia on the table and leave with my blessing." He waited; for a moment he thought Roger was going to leave, but the tall swordsman hesitated after putting his hands on the table as if to lever himself to his feet, thought hard, and then settled back into his seat with a doubtful look on his face. "All right, we're in this together. Arian, go ahead."

  The monk stood nervously. "Understand, I'll just give you the outline. Some details have already been worked out, and more will have to be filled in as we approach the different situations involved; this is an intricate and complicated plan that will have to be carefully accomplished step by step to work. First, we will secure our disguise: thanks to the captured papers, we know of the location of a Gold Serpent cult; by wiping them out and taking their gear we will assume the perfect persona for the rest of our mission."

  "For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Gold Serpent, they are a cult that believes that the best way to serve the Dark One is to amass vast quantities of wealth to fund the efforts of the more warlike cults. They serve as the bankers and merchants of the followers of the Void, and are poorly regarded by other cults, who see them as keeping more than they distribute. Naturally, various groups of the Golden Serpent do a great deal of business with Alantarn by helping get the items needed for the anverax."

  "Secondly, we will make contact with a tribe of Felher in the area of Alantarn while acting as Gold Serpent cultists. We will offer to help them raid Alantarn by aiding from within, while hinting that stealing some
of the rare materials the Direthrell are using to create the anverax is our interest. If possible, we will use something as surety up front; what the surety will be will depend on what we can lay our hands on."

  "Why do we need Felher and how can we find them if we do need them?" Starr asked.

  "Again, the captured papers mention that the particular Golden Serpent group we're going to hit deals with the Felher in that area regularly, so we'll get the information from them while we are getting our disguises. What we need them for is a diversion."

  "Thirdly, we make contact with a specific Direthrell lord and give him proof of the journal we captured. We offer to sell him the entire book but insist the negotiation group, us in our Serpent disguise, deal with him face-to-face in Alantarn."

  "That's how we get in," Kroh commented.

  "Exactly. Then we wait for the Felher to hit, help them just enough to create massive confusion, grab the Torc and any other loot we can lay our hands on, make sure the Dark Threll leader who got us in is dead, and escape in the confusion. A good raid will heat up the currently ongoing Direthrell-Felher war, thus hopefully taking their minds off hunting down any stolen treasure and unaccounted-for visitors."

  The Badgers considered this for a few moments. Arian sat down and took a long drink.

  "The nice thing is, is we can quit at any time short of grabbing the Torc and be safe," Starr pointed out. "Until we help the Felher attack and start pillaging we're clear."

  "So let me get this straight: we disguise ourselves as a Chaos cult, provoke a large-scale raid, sell blackmail material to a Direthrell of high rank whom we murder, and slip out of the toughest Direthrell fortress on this end of the continent. Simple." Roger's voice dripped sarcasm. "Why not just kill off their top leaders as well, while we're there?"

  "We may try to do just that," Elonia stated calmly, although one eyebrow twitched at his last comment. "The Direthrell are extremely competitive and power-oriented so killing off top leaders will heighten the confusion, and if only one high ranking Threll dies, and that one being the individual we are bargaining with, there is a chance that they will become suspicious. We must conceal our tracks perfectly. That means all magical weapons and any other enchanted items will have to be left outside when we go in. We must not only seize the Torc, but we must leave no clue as to who really did it. The Direthrell will be very upset after this raid, and they have a long reach and a longer memory. We cannot make any mistakes."

  "After we use the Torc on the White Necromancer we can see to it that it ends up in the hands of a Golden Serpent group," Henri added. "The better to confuse any trackers."

  "All that work and we don't even get to keep the damned Torc?" Kroh was outraged.

  "Better not to," the Arturian wizard shook his head. "Best not to have any definitive proof of our involvement."

  "Maybe we could plant it on them and then come back and wipe 'em out and get it back," Kroh suggested. "Then it'll be ours openly."

  "Good idea, but too far ahead for now," Durek dragged the conversation back to the point. "Any other comments?"

  “I’m still wondering about that big blank space in the plan under the general heading, ‘And Then We Escape’,” Roger announced.

  “The best bet would be through the use of Abedo Varo, better known as Gate Magic,” Henri shrugged. “This involves an enchantment anchored between two constructs; we assemble the primary construct, called an egrai, well outside Alantarn, and carry the secondary construct, called an egran, in with us. After we get the Torc, we pull back to a secluded place, set up the egran, and we’re gone.”

  “You step through the one structure and appear at the other,” Elonia added.

  “Great, perfect,” Roger nodded. “But isn’t creating a complete Gate just a bit past your skills?”

  Henri bristled. “I can’t build one, but I could assemble it; we’ll have to buy one from the Felher. After all, that’s the best way for them to raid Alantarn, through Abedo Varo constructs.”

  “What about wards?” Starr asked. “Most fortresses are warded against Gate use for just this reason.”

  “The site, the anverax, is…affected by blocking wards,” Henri explained, keeping it simple. “Long answer short, they can’t use them. They will have detection wards in place, admittedly, but that will be the Felher’s problem.

  “We’ll go into the detail work later,” Durek stepped in. “Any other questions?”

  "I've got another," Roger still looked unhappy. "Just what is Maximilian going to be told? We go haring off on this complicated scheme and leave him behind, we might as well hang our unit colors on the vault we grab the Torc from."

  "Good point," Durek conceded. "Maximilian is essential to our cover, so we need him for the duration. Any ideas?"

  Various ideas were put forward and dismissed as impracticable. Durek let it run on for a half hour and then called for silence. "We aren't getting anywhere. Maximilian is a lot of things, but dumb is not one of them. We'll need the entire troop for several stages of the plan, and outside of a major city such as this one we won't be able to slip away. Dmitri's idea of hiring a courtesan to distract him wouldn't hurt, but no matter how nimble she is it won't hide all of us being gone at once. What are we going to do?"

  Kroh belched long, loud, and wetly. Wiping his mouth, he poured himself another mug of ale. “Just recruit him and be done with it."

  “What?" Durek frowned.

  The Waybrother shrugged. "Make him a Badger and drag him along. He can finish his studies between stages of the plan, and that way we don't have to worry about him writing down something that the Dark Threll can use against us: his neck will be in the same noose."

  "He wouldn't be stupid enough to do it," Roger shook his head. "And if he did, he would be a liability."

  "Don't be so sure about his being a liability," Starr countered. "He handled himself pretty well at the Orc fort; he took part in some heavy fighting there and obeyed orders without question. I think he would be happy to join us and be the first Company Historian; we've always had one in the by-laws but nobody ever took the position seriously. Maximilian would, and the responsibility of our secrets as well. As you said, he's not dumb."

  "We could try to recruit him, and if he refused we would be no worse off than we are now," Bridget pointed out. "If he says no we work up another plan. If he says yes we make him a secret member and fill him in."

  "Why a secret member?" Janna asked. "We'll have to tell him what we're headed for."

  "Yes, but if he’s openly a Phantom Badger, it destroys the credibility of our escorting him around," Bridget pointed out.

  "What about his staff? They could carry tales," Dmitri pointed out.

  "If he joins he'll cooperate with us; it shouldn't be hard to send them off on errands when we need to take all of us on a mission. He's their paymaster, too."

  "He would be the most rigorously-tested recruit we've ever had," Durek mused, warming to the idea. "Everybody else got enlisted after a couple hours of interviews. We've known him for months, and even fought beside him. He would be the safest bet for a new Badger we'll ever get. Time for a vote."

  By the laws of the Company every new recruit had to be voted in by a three-fourths majority, with officers and founding members casting two votes each. Roger's was the only dissenting ballot cast.

  "Right," Durek rubbed his hands together. "Another first: he's voted in before he even applies. One for the history books, which he can start writing once we recruit him. Elonia and Starr will make the approach; smile pretty, ladies, and bring him in. Henri, go buy the make-up and props we picked out, Bridget, get a list of weapons and armor we can't take into Alantarn and arrange to buy ordinary replacements. Kroh, buy a set of engraver's tools so we can decorate the replacement weapons to fit with our cult disguise. Arian, you sit down with Elonia and get the plan filled out. Janna, you buy the props we'll need for the Serpent raid, and Rolf, go buy enough boxes and kegs to hold all the cultist gear we'll capture, and fil
l them with rocks for weight. Everybody give the plan plenty of thought and see if there's anything we missed or what can make it better."

  Maximilian was thrilled at the idea of becoming a Badger, even if his membership had to remain a secret for a while; despite being warned about the potential danger and given a day to consider the risks did not weaken his resolve. He avidly agreed and was sworn in with all due ceremony the second day after the final war council. Immediately after being sworn in he was appointed as the first Company Historian (which allowed him to wear the appropriate insignia, a silver dagger bound in a scroll on his bracer) and was then appraised of the Company's plans. He was appalled at the risk, and impressed by the deviousness of both the overall mission and of the plan to get the Torc.

  After spending two more days wrapping up Maximilian's studies and establishing a number of contacts within the city against future need the Badgers rode out of Sagenhoft and headed northeast. Their progress was slower than normal as they moved from one historical point to another, surveying the last battlefields of the Ostwind war and viewing the ruins of structures dating back to the Perina Empire. Locating the exact site of a key fort guarding a road down which the last child Emperor had retreated in the Empire's final dark days created an especially long delay, but at last, three days after leaving Sagenhoft the Badgers crossed the city-state’s border into the greater Border Realms.

  The Realms are a sword's-blade of principalities and petty baronies that occupy the fertile lands between the Thunderpeaks to the west and the great escarpment called Malker's Wall to the east, the latter splitting the Blasted Plain on a north-south axis for just over twenty-four hundred miles, the cluster of nations being the remnants of the Pernia Empire, established by the Emperor Malker centuries ago. Malker felt that the escarpment was a natural defense line against the forces of evil that roamed the Plains, and was in fact right, as testified by the occupation of the area long after he and his Empire were gone. Historians agree that if he had paid as much attention to his Imperial laws and the structure of his Court as he had to the land's defenses his descendants would still rule.