The Outrider Legion: Book One

by Christopher Pepper

  The Legionnaire blinked a few times, his craggy face processing the Weaver’s fabrication. Three more Legionnaires emerged from the gatehouse and began walking towards them. But Crag Face waved them back with a quick gesture.

  “Okay, you may proceed. Just be warned sir, the local guilds aren’t afraid of the Mechers as much as others are. And they don’t take too kindly to poaching, as it were. But I will pass on your offer nonetheless.” He looked at the Outriders. “As for you. There are eighty Legionnaires here at all times, plus our forest patrols. Your boss won’t be in any danger. And neither will you, so long as you keep your weapons hidden. Are we understood?”

  As one the Outriders nodded silently.

  “Good. Carry on then, and welcome to Oberon.” He stepped back, allowing the Outriders to freely pass into the town.

  They rode past the guard station and into the town proper. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Toma looked over at Johan and Leonid, a curious look on his face.

  “So how are we going to find this person, anyways? This place is honestly much bigger than I thought it was. There could be almost a thousand people here.”

  Behind them, Johan heard Ryker stifle a chuckle. Ignoring it, he gave their scout a reassuring smile.

  “Not to worry, Toma. I’m on it. I do have a special mission for you, however.” At this, the scout sat up a little higher, an eager expression on his face. The tedium of the trip had given the youngest Outrider time to brood on the assassin attack, and Johan wanted to have him focused on tasks to shake him from it. “Find us a place to sit and eat. A hot meal right now would really do us some good. If it is a good, quality establishment, I’ll buy you two drinks.”

  The young man smiled. “Yes sir, not a problem,” he said, and spurred his horse forward.

  Ryker rode up to take Toma’s place. He leaned towards Johan and Leonid a bit before speaking.

  “But seriously, what are we going to do?”

  Johan raised an eyebrow. “Do you doubt your commander?” A wry grin crossed his face. “Look, our contact here is expecting us, looking for us even. We do sort of stand out, so I’m sure he’s aware of us. So if we just wait, he will find some way to get word to us. And if that means we wait in a tavern with good food and a fire, I don’t think the men are going to complain. Am I right?”

  Ryker nodded his head, seemingly convinced. “Okay, I guess it sounds better that way. But what if he doesn’t try to find us, or if he’s dead, or whatever?”

  “Then we search without him,” Leonid said. “Local information would help us greatly, yes. But it isn’t necessary. Remember, there are the other Outriders here that we will reach out to. And if we completely run out of options, I can work something up to find our bandits’ location.” Seeing Ryker about to speak, he pressed on. “The reason I haven’t done it yet is that my methods are not what you would call…subtle. I’d know where they were, but they’d also know we were in hot pursuit. And, if they have anyone versed in the Craft with them, they’d know you have a Weaver with you, which is always something to keep a surprise. Add to that, if we are too far away when they make a break for it, we could lose them all over again. Johan’s plan to wait is sound. For now. But we shouldn’t linger here too long, one way or another.”

  Ryker put up his hands in surrender. “Okay okay. You win. To be perfectly honest,” he adjusted his weight on his saddle, “a soft chair right now does sound great.”

  They didn’t have to wait long for Toma to reappear, and he led them to a large tavern with an ornately carved sign on the front of it identifying the establishment as “The Wooden Ladle”, the aroma of baking bread coming from its open double doors. The rest of the Outriders’ spirits rose upon seeing a well-lit tavern as their destination. Dismounting, hitching their horses, and carrying their packs, they walked in together.

  The tavern was a narrow building, running back from the main road. It had long benches with tables running between them, almost like a great hall. Picking a table closest to the roaring fireplace, the Outriders sat, four on each side. Johan ordered a round of beer and bread when a serving girl approached. Toma looked into the fire, a puzzled look on his face. His gaze swept the room, at the numerous lamps, lanterns, and candles placed throughout.

  “Seems dangerous to have so much fire here, doesn’t it? I mean, yeah, all the buildings are wood. But also the trees surrounding the village are their livelihoods. You’d think they’d be terrified of fire.”

  “You’d think,” agreed Vegard. “But they are actually as protected from fire as homes in The City, if not more so. The local alchemists have some secret glaze or compound they personally apply to any new building here. It’s almost completely flameproof. It helps contain fires to single buildings, as the flames have no place to escape out of. I tried to get trade rights to it once, but the alchemist guild here would have nothing of it.”

  “I’d hate to be inside one of those buildings, trapped with a blazing fire then,” murmured Toma.

  “Yeah, so would most people anywhere, genius,” quipped Ryker, grinning.

  “Shut up,” said Toma, adding a hurried, “sir,” but he cracked a smile and laughed with the rest. The serving girl brought their order and Johan paid her.

  “Is that still the Praetorian’s money, sir?” asked Garm.

  “It is, actually,” Johan replied. “We barely spent half of it, since Aleksander ended up paying for…” he trailed off. Shame began to creep onto his face. The other Outriders all looked down at the mention of Aleksander.

  “Gods, I can’t believe I forgot he was in there,” muttered Ryker.

  “We all forgot,” Toma said, glumly. “That afternoon got strangely hectic with the Quartermaster’s shipment, then the quick muster and departure. We never had a reason to go downstairs. Plus our minds were somewhat foggy.” He looked around at the downcast table. “I’m not making excuses for any of us, just offering an explanation.”

  Johan stood up. “Thanks, Toma. I’m going to go send a messenger bird to The City. See if my brother can’t send someone to go check on Aleksander. He’s a big guy, he should still be okay. I’ll be back in a little while.” He handed some more coins to Ryker. “Here,” he told his second. “Get some stew and another round for everyone. And get us some rooms. Nothing fancy, just enough for all of us. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” Ryker nodded and took the coins. Johan turned and walked out the open doors.

  He found the local messenger birds by asking a passing woodcutter, and a few minutes later he was writing a letter to his brother.

  Jonvar,

  Please send some men and a medico to my barracks as soon as you receive this. Due to our rather rapid deployment, we were unable to release a man we had in our custody. He’s in the cellar.

  Please do everything you can to convey our

  deepest apologies to him.

  P.S. Never bring this up to dad, or I’ll break your arms.

  -Johan

  After giving the message and a coin to the bird handler, Johan headed back to the tavern. The bird would be drawn to special beacons in The City, even at night. The message would reach Jonvar in a few hours. It was also marked urgent, so a runner would get him as soon as it arrived. That relieved some tension in Johan’s mind, allowing him to start thinking of how he planned on finding this Nerthus. The sky above was beginning to darken as night approached, and a chill descended. He pulled his riding coat tighter. It was good at trapping heat, but was a little loose.

  As lamplighters beginning their task up and down the streets, he saw a woman hawking meats of various types. As he walked closer, he noticed that she was missing her left hand. Her arm ended in a stump just above where her elbow should be. She saw him staring, and took this as her cue to begin a sales pitch.

  “You there! Travel man! You look like a man who needs hearty food! Chops is my name, meat is my game. What’s your pleasure? Steaks? Chicken? Lizard?”

  “Ah, no thank you. I have food waiting for me.”


  “Where? You aren’t from around here, I can see. Where are you staying, the Wooden Ladle? The Wooden Ladle I bet.” She spat. “That place gets so much damn business just because it’s right by the main gate. But not because they have good food. No one has ever said to me, ‘Chops, you gotta try the swill at the Wooden Ladle!’, they say ‘Chops, why don’t you go cook for the Wooden Ladle, so it stops tasting like shit,’ or ‘Chops, you should open up a place of your own, your food is so good.’ Occasionally I hear ‘Chops, you should be married and pop out some kids’, but that’s really none of your business, thank you very much. But the Wooden Ladle. They can pike off. They want your coin, not your satisfaction in their foodstuffs. BUT! They won’t kick you out if you bring your own meat. So let’s do some business, my handsome friend. Chops knows chops, if you get me.” She waved her truncated left arm at Johan and laughed.

  Her laugh was good natured, and it drew Johan’s eyes to her face, seemingly for the first time. He had been fixated on her arm while being bombarded by her sales pitch. She had playful, hazel eyes and high cheekbones. Her hair was a light auburn, drawn back in a pony tail behind her head.

  “Seriously though,” she continued. “Their food is awful. I’ve got lamb and pheasant. Goat too.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “I even have river crab and salmon.”

  That stopped Johan in his tracks. “Really?”

  The girl smiled, the same smile a cat gives a mouse, knowing it’s won the chase. “Oh yes. A former caller, er, friend stops by from time to time. He’s got a small fishing operation going. I think he sells me his stuff so cheap to loosen my bodice strings again, but he had his chance. So here I am with choice meats. And I’d rather sell it to a traveler than to a local. I can jack up the price higher that way.” She shrugged. “But, seafood may not be to your friends’ liking. I also have some more exotic fare. For instance, I’ve got some meat from Melcara. Outriders brought it in for me, a few days ago.”

  Johan froze. For an instant he thought he saw something in Chops’ eyes. “That does sound interesting.”

  She nodded, her elfin smile infectious. “Doesn’t it!? It’s definitely some nifty cuts of meat. A little costly though. At the very least, I’ve got samples. You at least got to try a sample. As my ma used to say ‘try before you buy’. But then she frowned upon my courting habits. Hypocrite.”

  Johan laughed. “Tell you what, you’ve got yourself some paying customers. Let me go get some of my friends, and we’ll meet you at your shop.”

  Chops smiled wide. “That’s what I want to hear! Make sure you not-so-subtly let Gerry at the Wooden Ladle know where your good food is going to come from, that pompous old buffoon.” She gave Johan a quick series of directions then went hurrying off towards her shop.

  Johan stared after her. That certainly was interesting, he thought. Melcara and Outrider were certainly meant for him. Right? He shook his head and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. Intrigue was not what he signed up for. As he watched her go, he couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips. Even if she didn’t have anything to do with the mission, what would be the harm?

  Chapter 6

  “Nerthus”

  Johan found his men back at the tavern. They were not too pleased, by the look of things. Leonid was sadly staring at his bread, like a child staring at a broken toy. The serving girl, looking rather apologetic, was speaking to Ryker about something, who looked very annoyed. She saw Johan approaching and hurried off. Johan looked at Ryker questioningly.

  “She just told me that all they have right now is bread to eat. The tavern keeper to market today for food, but he got into an argument with some crazy butcher or something, and left without buying anything. The serving girl is going to try and find us all some eggs or something. On the bright side,” he picked up his mug, “we got a free round out of it.”

  Johan smiled. “Well then, we are in luck. I’ve arranged a meeting with a local vendor. Should be just what we were looking for.” He gave Ryker a knowing look.

  “Ahhh, I see. Want us to come keep you company?”

  “I’m going to keep it small. Toma and Garm, if you’d like to do some heavy lifting, come with me. You too, Leonid, if you don’t mind.”

  The Weaver looked up from his bread. “There’s little else I’d rather do than leave this affront to my palate.” He dropped the hard loaf disdainfully and rose from his bench, his robust figure catching on the table before he was able to stand up straight. He extricated himself with an embarrassed look on his face. Everyone stifled laughter.

  “We are going to the right place for you then,” Johan said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “Ryker, go take care of the horses. The rest of you, head up to the rooms. And don’t worry, we’ll be back with some food.” As Garm and Toma stood up and approached him, he gave them both a questioning look. “I hope you are both armed.”

  Garm looked offended, but Toma nodded. “After the fun on the road, I’m looking to be as armed as possible at all times.”

  Toma winced as Garm hit the young man on his back, a proud look on his face. “I think I’m taking a liking to the lad more and more.”

  The four men had taken only a few steps out of the tavern when a runner approached them in a huff.

  “Message for you, sir,” he said breathlessly. He handed a sealed letter to Johan and then ran back the way he came.

  Puzzled, Johan opened the letter and read what was inside.

  Sir,

  It has come to my attention that you have

  finally arrived in Oberon. It is in our best

  interests to meet quickly and exchange relevant

  information regarding your purpose. Some new events have come to my attention that you need to hear. Meet me at the stables next

  to the Legion barracks as soon as you get this message. We have little time to act.

  -Nerthus

  Johan read the note a second time, the look of puzzlement never leaving his face. He looked up at Leonid and handed him the note. The Weaver quickly read it and grunted, and then passed it to Garm and Toma.

  “I suppose this means our food will have to wait,” he said, the lack of enthusiasm apparent.

  “I guess…well, I don’t know what to do,” Johan replied. When the Weaver raised an eyebrow at him, he continued. “After I sent the message to The City, a merchant approached me, mentioning Melcara and Outriders, and wanted to set up a meeting as quickly as possible at her shop. I took that to mean she was Nerthus, but that name never came up. And now this, a letter seemingly from Nerthus, but with no mention of Melcara or anything else.”

  The Weaver cocked his head to one side, rubbing one shoulder absentmindedly as he examined the situation. Toma spoke first.

  “This note seems…wrong somehow. I don’t know sir. You’d think a spy would hesitate to use his name in public, let alone write it down and trust to a runner. In the noble circles, if you needed to tell someone something secret, you found them yourself, you didn’t do it through others.”

  Leonid nodded. “Very true. However, the names of the Umbra’s agents are a closely guarded secret in their own right, and they change with every assignment. It would make sense for someone trying to intercept us to float the idea of Melcara and Outriders to you, knowing it would pique your interest, especially if they don’t know we are here to meet someone else.”

  Johan sighed. “I know, I know. You both make sense. Garm? You’ve been involved with military matters more than any of us. What do you think?”

  Garm shrugged his shoulders. “No idea sir. The extent of my Legion intelligence training ended at where I pointed my weapons. Sorry.”

  Johan stood there silent for a moment. “I want to know how this person knows the name ‘Nerthus’. Either he’s our guy, or he’s privy to information he shouldn’t have. Let’s head to the stable and meet our mystery caller. The butcher can wait a little while longer.”

  A hideous rumble came from Leonid’s stomac
h. “She’s a butcher?! By the Planes, let’s not make her wait too long!”

  Less than ten minutes later, they were at the stable next to the Legion barracks. It was more a small barn than an actual open stable, but that would afford them some measure of privacy from passerby’s. Garm felt the familiar tingle of anticipation, the kind he always felt as emotions rose around him just before a fight broke out. The Commander was a young man, and not as battle tested as he would have preferred, but Garm had to admit that he had some brains. Else had ordered Garm and Toma to double back so they were hidden from view. The two of them were just around the corner of the barracks itself, trying to look inconspicuous from the passing townsfolk and Legion. The Commander and the Weaver had just gone into the barn to meet their contact. The rest of Garms orders were to wait three minutes before rounding the corner and sweeping the area outside the barn, in case there was any trouble. As he stood there, Garm felt Toma’s eyes on him. Looking over, he could see the younger man was troubled.

  “What’s bothering you, kid?” he asked, as casual as if they were just two men in the market. He turned now to meet Toma’s eyes.

  Toma quickly looked away. “How many…um. Can I ask you something? Something, ah, kind of personal?”

  “Sure, kid.”

  Toma fidgeted with his hands for a second before continuing. “While you were in the Legion, how many men do you think you, ah, took care of?”

  This was it, Garm thought. He had been anticipating a question like this from someone in the group as soon as they had met. His reputation had certainly preceded him when they went through initiation together, yet no one had asked him about it directly. Too polite a group, perhaps. Ryker, that ass, had made a couple jokes about it, trying to be clever. Garm had let it slide. No point stomping on that peacock. Well, not yet anyways. But he never had pegged Toma to be the one to ask him first. That is, he conceded, before Toma had killed those four men.