by RW Krpoun
Deciding, as usual, to hoard the ghost-blade effect, she expertly deflected a thrusting spearhead and thrust her point through the wielder’s left forearm, feeling the vibration of the edges grating on bone as she twisted the blade and withdrew, hopping backwards to avoid a pole axe’s wild swing.
Arian knocked a spear point down with his shield and lunged in, ramming the point of his broadsword into and through the Felher’s eye socket. Twisting the blade free, the monk blocked a glaive’s swing with his shield as he side-stepped a pole axe, chopping the kislic’s hand in half as the Felher tried to bring his clumsy weapon back to the ready.
The two Badgers went back-to-back as the four remaining unwounded Felher drew back to consider the situation and the roar of the Company’s attack reached them.
Marius had reacted quickly to the alarm, the two Badgers saw as they darted from wagon to wagon: wasting no time, the merchant had sliced a ‘x’ shaped hole in the rear of his tent and sent his family fleeing towards the woods, correctly guessing that the loot-hungry Felher would not waste time trying to catch children in heavy brush when there was wagons loaded with goods close to hand. The merchant had then rallied a handful of his men to him and taken on a Ree of Felher, a brave but basically foolish move.
“Oh, bugger,” Maxmillian swore, seeing a kislic make a long dive and catch the hem of Sara Rocco, tripping the sixteen-year-old as she tried to flee across the Road.
“That, and much more if we don’t get her back,” Elonia agreed as two more Felher pounced upon the crawling girl. “Ready?”
“No,” the historian grunted as he charged out from beneath the wagon, slamming the brass, steel, and oak length of his beaked, spike-headed war hammer into the back of a Felher who had been watching the girl being taken, blasting the creature’s lower spine apart.
The Seeress hesitated long enough to mutter the incantation to one of her very slender stock of spells, a minor (as were all her spells) enchantment that caused her figure to appear blurred and hazy to any onlooker, before following. A karlic who was drawing back to cast a dart at Maxmillian was suddenly enveloped in a circular, yard-wide fighting net, the weighted circle of tough mesh entangling the Felher’s arms while the lead weights attached to the net’s skirt battered and bruised the creature. Kicking the trapped Felher’s feet out from beneath it before the shock of being netted passed, Elonia booted the karlic square in the crotch (an effective target area on any male humanoid), then spun to face a spear-wielding kislic, a yataghan at the ready.
As the Felher darted and feinted, grinning idiotically; the Seeress matched his moves while she reached for a throwing knife, only realizing her mistake as a body crashed onto her back from behind. The impact of the Felher diving off the wagon behind her sent her sprawling into the dirt, losing her blade as she fell.
Charging across the road, Maxmillian hit the first kislic struggling with Sara, who was screaming and fighting for all she was worth, caving in the back of its unarmored skull as the creature began to turn. The second kislic released the girl and leapt at the historian, leading with a vicious swing of its theeb; Maxmillian caught the blow on his shield and struck back, muttering the word that activated his enchanted hammer’s single-use power. Although the blow merely grazed the nimble Felher, the blue sparks summoned forth by Maxmillian’s command vastly enhanced the blow, breaking several of the Felher’s ribs and knocking it sprawling.
The third kislic had ended Sara’s struggling by grabbing a fistful of hair and using this hold to bang her head against the Road’s paving stones until she stopped resisting. Giving the unconscious girl’s head a couple more raps for good measure, the Felher clumsily slung her body across its stooped shoulders and rose, turning to the north as the war hammer caught it in the center chest with Maxmillian’s full weight behind it, smashing the breast bone apart and sending shards of bone lancing deep into the heart-sac.
Spitting dirt, Elonia threw herself to the side, slamming her left elbow into the Felher as she groped for a throwing knife with her right; the kislic on top of her was clawing at her hair for a handhold while trying to get the point of its hekka into her torso, and being frustrated in both efforts by the enchantments in her girdle and torc, the blurring spell, and her counter-efforts. The former two would only work for so long, as she was well aware, and concentrated on getting the Felher off her before it figured out what was hindering it.
She had managed to work herself onto her left side with the stinking weight of the Felher still on top of her when the blurring effect flickered and died, the energy allotted to the spell have been expended; instantly, a heavy weight slammed onto her legs, trapping them. As taloned hands gripped her thighs the Seeress realized that the spear-wielding kislic who had successfully distracted her had dove onto her legs in an effective effort to hold her in place. The Felher on top of her had realized that something wasn’t right about the woman he was fighting, and had begun using far more force in his efforts to stab her, several of the thrusts being strong enough to overcome the girdle’s enchantment and rip into her flesh. Worse, the struggle had knocked her torc loose, terminating its enchantment and allowing the kislic to get a grip on her hair.
Finally her desperate fingers found the bare steel of a throwing knife as the tip of the hekka skidded off a rib and opened a two-inch long gash in her side. Jerking the knife from its scabbard, she plunged it into the Felher’s thigh as he brought the stirrup-knife up for another thrust. Her assailant yelped, hesitated, then dropped its hekka and grabbed its chest as the effects of the poison hit; slamming both hands into the creature’s belly, Elonia bucked as hard as she could and knocked the Felher off her.
Ripping her other yataghan free as the kislic holding her legs drew its hekka the Seeress screamed a curse as a heavy boot slammed into her shoulder, sending the knife flying from her nerveless fingers. The Felher on her legs failed to take advantage of this blow, however, choosing to leap to its feet, releasing her legs as it did so. Before it could get fully upright, however, a war hammer caught the kislic square on the temple, killing it instantly.
Elonia realized it had been Maximilian who had kicked her, albeit accidentally, as she grabbed up the yataghan with her left hand, cursing at the burning ache of her wounds. Rolling to a sitting position, she watched as the line of Badgers swept in from the west, the Felher wisely breaking and fleeing rather than engaging the better-equipped mercenaries.
“Are you all right?” Maximilian shouted over the yells, screams, and rattle of the fight.
“Forget that, start figuring what we’re going to tell Durek.”
The glaive’s blade slammed into the iron-bound rim of Arian’s shield and snapped, the over-tempered metal shattering like sheet glass, one fragment drawing a line of blood across the monk’s cheek. Thrown off balance by the sudden release of pressure on the shaft of his weapon, the Felher staggered forward and went down to one knee, dying there a second later as Arian’s sword bit through the kislic’s neck and sheared through a vertebra.
Bringing his bloody blade back into position, Arian looked about for another foe and saw no other Felher standing other than the one Janna was beheading. Flicking her sword to rid the blade of most of the blood, the ex-Silver Eagle spun around, seeking another foe.
“Looks like we ran ‘em off,” Arian observed, stabbing a prone, moaning kislic in the base of the neck. “The Undermaster got away for sure, and that sounds like a good idea for us, too.” They could hear the screeching cries of the Ree-masters and the sounds of Felher running back across the cleared ground towards the tree line as the Company swept through Rocco’s camp.
“Let me grab my axes; blast, they took the totem with them.”
“That would have helped our case, capturing their standard” Arian observed, stabbing a couple downed Felher to ensure that they were dead before wiping his blade clean on a Ree-master’s tunic. “Ah, here’s my crossbow.”
“They’re gone for good, Captain,” Starr reported to her commander
, who was standing near the ruins of Marius’ tent supervising the redeployment of the Badgers from their camp to new sleeping areas amongst the wagons. “They reformed about a half-mile from here, probably a designated fallback position, and then set off to the northeast. They dragged off seven bodies from the tree line, and had quite a few wounded in their ranks as well.”
“Excellent work, Starr; go get some rest. Rolf, have you finished your count?”
“Yes, sir: they left fourteen dead or badly wounded Felher in or around the camp area, and all have been disposed of. Master Rocco had twenty-four wagoneers, four scouts, a cook and two helpers, and his family in this caravan. Sixteen wagoneers, three scouts, the cook, and both helpers are dead, and most of the remaining staff are wounded to some degree. None of the wagons or teams were lost, although nearly all the tents are ruined.”
“Thank you, Rolf. Go and see to your sentries.” The Captain was not unpleased: the fight had given his Company a good blooding, and an easy, if intense fight that had seen only five Badgers lightly wounded. And while the Phantom Badgers were not inclined towards banditry or road-murder, the simple fact remained that Master Rocco no longer hand enough staff to drive all his wagons....
But before he extorted an exorbitant payment from the merchant in return for security and replacement wagon drivers there was a more urgent, and less pleasant, detail to attend to. Swinging his axe in counterpoint to his stride, the Captain marched over to the old camp, where three downcast Serjeants and one battered Corporal were waiting. The four shuffled uneasily as their commander stomped up.
The Dwarf surveyed them for several seconds before shaking his head. “I can’t believe the four of you could be so stupid. You’re supposed to be the best I’ve got, the heart of the Inner Circle and the very framework of the Company’s fighting force. You‘re supposed to be setting an example for the new Badgers and seeing that they obey our very sensible procedures, but instead the four of you are out sneaking around like a bunch of rabbits in the springtime.” He glowered at them for a bit while they shuffled their feet and embarrassedly studied their fingernails. “How can I discipline my rankers when my officers commit worse crimes? How am I supposed to fight a Company when my first tier of leadership isn’t where I expect it to be? Janna, any comments? You’re a founding Badger, you helped write the procedures we operate under.”
“...no..,” the ex-Silver Eagle muttered.
“Arian? How did you survive nine years of hunting cults? No comment? Maxmillian? I promoted you to Serjeant over more experienced Badgers because I thought you had some sense! What in the Light were you thinking? Elonia, you are nearly a hundred and forty, haven’t you learned anything in all that time?” The Captain scowled at his officers for a bit longer. “Luckily for you and the Company very few people noticed you were gone. Nearly everyone thinks only one or two of you were caught outside our camp when the attack hit, so discipline will not be adversely affected by the news of what the leaders were doing while the rank and file were obeying the rules. You have a comment, Arian? Some bit of wisdom you would care to share with me? Perhaps some witty postulation that this whole bungled affair was a good opportunity to test the training and initiative of our Corporals?”
“No, sir, I was just going to point out that this is the first time we’ve ever been in the field for so long with so many troops; in fact, the Company has never had this many Badgers under the colors at one time in one place before, nor have we ever set out for such a lengthy campaign. Under such circumstances, I might suggest that we modify our procedures to take this into account.”
“And what exactly would this modification be?”
“Well,” the monk glanced at his companions, then pressed on. “Captain, we five know why the four of us left camp: for privacy. Badger policy is that we set up within as small an area as practical, and no one leaves the sentry line or latrine areas after dark without permission of the Captain.”
“Which are good and suitable rules.”
“Yes, in general; we also march until we have just enough light to set up camp so as to make good time on the march.”
“Again, essential to our plans.”
“Yes, however, this policy was designed when the campaigns were short and our numbers were small enough so that we could have frequent stays at inns or farmsteads which would allow a certain amount of, well, privacy periodically. Under the current procedures there is no recognition of, well, the fact that there are several established couples within our ranks.”
Durek gave that some thought. “I see your point: if there was a way for privacy within our procedures, none of you would have left camp tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Humph. I’ll consider your point later; for now, no mention of this to anyone, and each of you can forgo the next two week’s pay as a reminder that we have standing orders for a good reason. Frankly, every one of you ought to be reduced to the ranks, and I’d do it in an instant except that there aren't enough trained leaders to replace you.” The Captain glared at the four. “Yet.”
Chapter Three
The combined Company-merchant caravan reached the Great Crossing on the fourteenth of Kammteil after making fairly good time, the Great Crossing being the point where the Road crosses the Tabir river, which bisects the Road into two very nearly equal lengths. At the Crossing the Tabir is thirty yards of rushing, boat-killing water coursing at the bottom of a gorge two hundred yards wide and ninety deep. The actual crossing-point is a slender Dwarven-built span arching neatly across the gorge, an elegant structure that seemed far too fragile to do the job it has performed for the last sixteen centuries.
Off either end of the bridge was a large cleared area encircled by a ditch and belts of sharpened stakes which serve as a campground for travelers. The west site is home to a small tent city offering brothels, gambling, and ale, while the east side boasts a blacksmith, cooper, wheelwright, and a carpenter trained in the repair of wagons and carts. Each end of the bridge is also overlooked by a stout fort of Dwarfish construction garrisoned by mercenaries hired by various states from within the Realms; two years earlier the Badgers had spent a season garrisoning the east fort and patrolling along the Road while in the pay of the City-State of Sagenhoft.
The Crossing teemed with activity as travelers and caravans rested from the exertions and dangers of the west Road or prepared to brave them. The camps were rough places as the garrison officers were only interested in the security of the eastern road and stayed out of any dispute that broke out in the rest areas so long as they did not involve any of their men or reach riot proportions; to make things worse there were perhaps three times as many travelers present at the Crossing than would be normal for high summer, much less early spring.
This was hardly an ordinary spring: in this, the fifty-sixth year of the Third Age, the dark promise of war hung over the Border Realms and threatened the future of the nations of the West. On the eastern seaboard of the continent the Direthrell nation of Arbmante had been thrown into internal convulsions by the abrupt secession of the fortress-city Alantarn the previous spring. As developing Alantarn, which was located on the northwest corner of the Blasted Plains, had been Arbmante’s primary focus for centuries, the shock of losing this major outpost had set the power factions within the Direthrell state against one another as the existing power structure collapsed.
Arbmante’s northern neighbor and long-time adversary was the nation-cult known as the Hand of Chaos, who wasted no time taking advantage of Arbmante’s confusion; as invading their hated southern neighbor would instantly reunite the power factions (the conflict in Arbmante was political, rather than a civil war) the Hand looked to the west to further its ambitions. With Arbmante neutralized for the next few years and the threat to their northwest flank presented by Alantarn eliminated by treaty with the new city-state, the Hand was free to pursue a cherished ambition: the occupation of most or all of the Border Realms and securing at least one major port on the east c
oast of the Ascendi Sea. It had tried this same scheme in eight-hundred-ninety of the Second Age, only to be rebuffed after three years of bloody fighting that had seen the Hand forces come within inches of gaining all they hoped for.
Accordingly for the last year every nation and race that followed the Light in Alhenland was sending troops and supplies into the Realms to aid in the coming struggle, and while the bulk of the supplies and many of the troops were going by water across the Ascendi Sea to the major ports of Sagenhoft or Nethy, there wasn’t enough shipping to move the vast amounts it would take to support the war, so the Imperial Highway was seeing more traffic than it had seen since the Ostwind War.
The coming war was the reason the Badgers were marching east as well: they had a contract with the City-State of Sagenhoft, or more properly, the Duchy of Sagenhoft, to report with a unit of at least one hundred trained and equipped warriors fully supported by Healers and transport. Their specific duties would be arranged after they had arrived, although minimum levels of pay had already been worked out in advance.
Knowing that to be thought of as professionals one must look like professionals, Durek halted the Company a mile short of the Crossing, just out of sight of the forts. There he concluded his business with Master Rocco, who had already gotten over his gratitude for the Badger’s rescue of himself and his family and was now visibly bitter about the rates the Company had charged him to provide security and wagon drivers for the rest of the trip to the Crossing (the merchant could find dray-men and a cheaper guard force at the Grand Crossing). Water was heated for washing, inspections were made, and the Company formed up.