Dark Key: Book Two of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  "They've got a couple wagons, too," he muttered a couple minutes later. “Sounds like they’re about five miles journey from collapseing.”

  The glowing ball of blue light that arced lazily over the mysterious group startled both watchers; when a silver ball followed it Arian whooped with glee. "It's them! Durek it's..." He looked around, surprised: he was alone on the hillside.

  The council of war was kept secret from Maximilian since it concerned the Badger's true mission. Present were Durek, Bridget, Dmitri, now fully recovered from his wound, and Arian. Routine business was dealt with first, primarily the four new recruits from the Orc-fort fight (one mercenary crossbowman, one halberdier, and two former servants) who had been given money, a map to the Badger's home at Oramere, and a letter of explanation to the commander there; Durek wanted no untried elements on this mission. Bridget, acting in her capacity as quartermaster, reported on the accumulation of supplies for the journey through the Red Shores; for the hundredth time Durek felt his decision to promote the young (not yet thirty) advocate to serjeant three years ago was sound. While she lacked the experience and tactical skill of Dmitri she compensated by her diligence and attention to detail and her solid reputation as the Company's peace-maker and conscience.

  Dmitri reported that Maximilian had taken the lessons of the expedition to heart: he had discharged all his staff except one wagon-driver and two scribes, and reduced his belongings and equipment to such a size as could fit in a single wagon with space to spare. Moreover, he was insisting that the three remaining staff members undergo weapons training from Kroh.

  Decorations stemming from the battle were dealt with next: Durek ruled that it would count as a major fight, allowing all participants to wear a gold stud. Kroh was awarded the Emerald Claw for his single-handed slaying of the Host-Lord and for his incredible number of personal kills in the fight. Dmitri was awarded the Opal Claw for his expert leadership throughout the defense of the fort, Starr received an entry on the Roll of Honor for her initiative with the barricades (her third entry), Rolf earned a Roll entry for his expert fighting (his third entry), and Elonia for leading the counterattack that sealed off the penetration on the night attack (her first Roll entry). Kroh, Johann, and Dmitri also received awards of the Onyx Fang in recognition of their being wounded; it was Kroh's third Fang and the other's first.

  The monk's report was directed at the heart of this mission: the Torc. He, Bridget, and Janna had quietly found out what they could, a task made difficult by the fact that none of the Badgers who served in religious orders followed Kiy, the goddess of wisdom, learning, and the arts, whose monastery Beydar’s Way had been. Fortunately, her priests were accustomed to persons seeking knowledge and were both open and friendly.

  Baydar's Way had been a retreat where the priest-scholars could take a sabbatical amidst the peace and serenity of the mountains, or to spend time in research free of normal religious duties. One hundred and forty-seven years earlier, in 906 Second Age, the northern shores were hit by a major Orc incursion; with the slaughter of the Ostwind War not fifteen years past the military resources of the area were too weak to effectively contain them in the frontier areas. The wild horde pushed deep into the Border Realms before being broken up and driven into the Thunderpeaks where they were hunted down and destroyed by Dwarf battle groups.

  Predictably, the Cave Goblin tribes in the area took advantage of the Dwarves' preoccupation to launch more than a few raids, both on the mountain-folk and the local human populations. The temple guards of Kiy were notorious for their lack of effectiveness and over-reliance on others (in this case, the Dwarves) to protect their holds; when a Cave Goblin force hit Baydar's Way it fell in a few hours. The area’s Patriarch for Kiy declined to rebuild the burnt-out sanctuary and the few survivors were reassigned to other temples.

  Some months ago the Badgers had acquired a letter from a monk of Kiy's at Baydar's Way, written to a friend in the Eisenalder Empire in the spring of 906 SA; the letter told of his work on the histories of famous Threll artifacts, and mentioned in passing that he had examined the Torc of Suian, which was in the Way's strong room. The letter had been recovered in a mass of paperwork stolen from a family storeroom (along with more valuable loot) by a band of brigands who had been surprised by the Badgers in their winter camp, the Company having acquired secret information on the bandits’ habits in the course of a complex series of deals back in the year fifty-one. The Badgers had returned the family's belongings (for a fee), keeping the letter as a bonus.

  Since they had not been able to uncover a single documented sighting of the Torc in the intervening years between the destruction of the retreat and the present date, it was felt that the Torc had been in the Way when the Cave Goblins had hit. They also guessed that either the Torc had been hidden during the attack by one of the staff who died before being able to record the fact, or it was sitting in a Cave Goblin vault.

  Using Elonia's abilities they planned to track down the Torc and recover it, as raiding a Cave Goblin stronghold was hardly new business for them; they would then finish out their commission with Maximilian while Bridget and Henri investigated the artifact's abilities. Then next spring they would put it to use against the White Necromancer, ending that threat once and for all.

  Arian added a few details for interest’s sake: the Torc was created by the Harthrell wizard Suian Wingarm in 243 SA for the purpose of hunting Necromancers, a favored calling of his. While exact details of the item’s powers were unclear, one function that it definitely possessed was the ability to hide the wearer and anyone fairly close by from detection by necromantic magic. That alone would go far in allowing the Badgers to strike at the White Necromancer.

  Four days after the expedition had returned to Tarnhen the Badgers and Maximilian's party rode out of the city's gates heading north into the hilly lands known as the Red Shores, so called because late in the Second Age the masters of the Hand of Chaos launched an invasion of the central Border Realms, beginning what was to be called the Ostwind War. The force was made up of the greatest concentration of Direbreed seen in eight centuries, supported by entire tribes of Orcs and several clans of the dreaded Eyade nomads; it smashed through the frontier defenses and reached their goal, the northeast coast of the Ascendi Sea. Siege was laid to the city-state of Sagenhoft, and the Hand's dream of control of that vital port on the great Inland Sea was within their grasp.

  It was then that they committed the fatal error that lurks around the planning tables of every general engaging in a victorious but incomplete campaign: the Hand tried to seize more than was planned or prudent. Having assembled a fleet by gathering every vessel they could find and building more out of whatever materials were available, the Hand mounted a seaward invasion of the Arturian coast while the main body and pack train marched around the north end of the Sea. The new, ambitious plan was to seize and hold the Imperial Highway that circled the north shore of the Ascendi Sea as well as Sagenhoft, completely cutting off the Border Realms from the rest of the civilized world.

  The seaborne invasion was badly battered and disrupted by the poor seamanship of the hastily assembled crews and by Arturian and Sagenhoftian war vessels; when the survivors reached shore, they were met by the largest army Arturia had fielded in centuries. The resulting massacre of the disorganized, seasick Hand troops gave birth to the name of the Red Shores, and ended the seaborne invasion.

  To the north, the land force emerged from the narrow passage of the Imperial Highway only to run into four full Eisenalder Legions supported by large contingents of Dwarves. After a series of bloody defeats the Darkhosts burned their wagons and attempted to retreat around the Sea again, harried every step of the way by Dwarven raiding groups who appeared out of hidden tunnel-mouths to ambush and snipe, retreating back into their tunnels when Hand forces reacted. The Dwarves only intended to delay, and delay they did; when the Hand troops finally made it to the flat plains on the east shores they beheld a glittering army of Arturian horse,
brought there by sea. Less than one in twenty of the north force reached the army besieging Sagenhoft; none of the seaborne contingent ever returned.

  With its main striking force burned away on the Red Shores and what was now called the Bloody Road the Hand army was forced to lift the siege of Sagenhoft in order to have sufficient forces with which to face the combined Empire-Arturian-Dwarven army that approached; after two bloody defeats they retreated back to the Blasted Plains, ending the Ostwind War, if not their dark ambitions.

  It was the hopes of writing a great work on the war that had led Maximilian to the 'Shores. Like many historians he firmly believed that it required at least two centuries to properly record the true historic effects of such a conflict in proper perspective; unlike most historians, he wished to walk the battlefields himself. So for a full month the group zig-zagged its way north across the Red Shores, pausing to examine each of the major battlegrounds, tracing the path of the Arturian army as it rode north to confront the invaders.

  For the Badgers it was an easy time as the rolling hills of the 'Shores were beautiful in their early summer greenery, and the close proximity of the Ascendi Sea kept the days balmy. Security had to be carefully maintained as the 'Shores were sparsely populated and even more sparsely patrolled and garrisoned by the Arturians, who were fully capable of ignoring the lessons of history, but that was normal procedure for the mercenaries, who were perfectly willing to learn from both other's mistakes and their own history, which had included numerous ambushes in unlikely spots.

  The roads were both well designed and well-drained, and somewhat carelessly maintained. They were well traveled, although the Badger's constant detours to visit historic sites kept them from encountering too many people. Farms were large and prosperous, built in the Arturian 'goose wing' style of a central house and attached barn and outbuildings, all handsomely half-timbered and carefully whitewashed, well-stocked with well-fed farm families.

  The Company's appearance elicited equal amounts of fear and curiosity; for the most part the farmers were interested in news of the outside world, but extended few invitations to stay overnight. The small villages were cheery, roomy, and clean affairs, if more sprawling than need be; defenses were poor, usually an overgrown embankment and a weed- and silt-choked ditch, which more often than not had been outgrown by the town. The militias trained often and were well-equipped, but looked upon their duties with a joking eye; the sudden appearance of such a battle-ready band as the Badgers sobered their attitudes considerably and brought uneasiness to all they encountered.

  Bridget Iola Uldo swept along the street of a sleepy little Red Shores town whose name escaped her, Roger Turin and Arian Thyben in tow. She was thoroughly angry, an unusual state for the slender, winsome advocate (wandering or unassigned priestess) of Hetarian whose calm, thoughtful manner had won her the unofficial positions of peacemaker and unit conscience. She had ridden into the village with two Badgers and Maximilian's wagon to buy grain for the horses, acorns for the two war pigs, fresh and preserved food, and a list of minor items the Badgers needed, such as tobacco, liquor, herbs for healing, two horseshoe nails to replace a pair used, and some stout leather needed to repair a badly worn armor strap, the usual items required to support the Badgers in the field.

  Judging from the looks they had received when they rode in, the young serjeant had left her studded leather shirt and staff sling on her horse, Roger had left his breast- and back-plates, helm, and javelins, and Arian his helm, mail shirt, and crossbow. This necessitated leaving the wagon driver behind with the mounts to guard these valuable items, an annoyance that she had been willing to endure in the interests of avoiding trouble, but what followed was far less easy to ignore, even for a peaceful soul.

  The slender, dark-haired woman had been born in a good family in Alderhof, the capitol of the Eisenalder Empire; after an education in Temple schools she was admitted to the ranks of the initiates two years earlier than most, trained in both Amplus Viraes, the Healing Arts, and in Amplus Oseta, clerical spell weaving. Shortly after being fully accepted into the priesthood she had been assigned to help form the Phantom Badgers by the Church elders, who wanted the fledgling Company to have a guide towards higher purpose. She had remained with them ever since, even marrying a fellow Badger three years ago.

  She was eleven months short of thirty, married three years, an officer in a respected mercenary company, and an Advocate in good standing, in town to purchase supplies which she paid for in hard coin. She most certainly did not expect to be treated like some camp-following whore or a brigand by some sneering shopkeeper or to be leered at by an oaf of an Arturian artisan.

  That this came after a section of the Badgers had fought to protect these same people from a budding Darkhost was especially aggravating; it made her want to grab one of these smug burghers and shake some sense into them. After all, it wasn’t as if they had ridden into town bespattered with blood and began causing trouble; true, she was dressed in a light tunic, breeches, and soft boots, but they were clean and well-made, and her companions were similarly clad, well-behaved, and in Arian's case, a member of a religious Order. Admittedly they were still well-armed: Bridget wore her enchanted torc, a sword-rapier and parrying dirk on a belt of carved amber plates with a matching bracelet and medallion, the set an enchanted focus dedicated to her faith that greatly augmented both her arcane and fighting abilities; Roger bore the enchanted great sword Moonblade and a dagger while Arian wore the late Marquis' griffin-hilted broadsword and a dirk, but they were hardly a force capable of sacking the town.

  Yet at each stall and shop she had received snubs, veiled insults, and hostile looks; while being a foreigner and an armed woman clad in men's clothing could account for some of it, Bridget put the largest portion down to stupid provincial prejudice. Gritting her teeth, she had carried on as best she could and tried to get the whole affair completed as soon as practicable.

  Pausing at a cross street, she consulted her list: most items had been accounted for but she still needed a couple things. Arian's hiss brought her attention to a half-dozen village Militia who were approaching nervously.

  "Serjeant Uldo of the Phantom Badgers," Bridget nodded to them politely. "May I be of service?"

  The leader of the group shifted his spear from hand to hand; the priestess couldn't tell if his red face came from his girth compacted into a leather jack that was obviously too smal or from embarrassment. "Hah, yes, well, we've come to escort you, er, onward."

  Bridget, who by now had had just about all she was going to take in general, and much more than she going to stand from a bunch of half-armed peasants, most of whom were leering at her breeches and tunic, placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. "By 'onward' were you meaning in a metaphysical sense?" She gave the leader a second to grow confused, easing her sword out an inch or so, the pressure of the partial draw swinging the scabbard up to the horizontal. Behind her Arian stepped to the left, loosening his blade; Roger stepped to her right, lifting the scabbarded Moonblade off his back and leaning on it. "By that, I mean do you plan to try to kill us?"

  The leader, anger beginning to show around his eyes, shook his head; his squad was growing nervous at the Badger's sudden offensive display. "No; no, we're going to escort you from our town. We mean you no harm, but we're a decent community here, and want no sell-swords hanging about."

  "A decent community that wants no Advocate of Hertarian on its streets?" Bridget cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting. I noted that your merchants did not spit upon the silver I paid with; still and all, we do not intend to 'hang about' your dirty little streets. I intend to make two more purchases and depart. If you would be as kind as to point me towards whatever serves you as a bakery, and a seller of leather goods, we'll be on our way." She reseated her sword in its scabbard and released the hilt.

  The militia leader glanced nervously around: a dozen or so citizens had gathered at a safe distance to watch the entertainment. "Well, you see, it's leaving you should be a
bout. We'll walk you to your horses, and that'll be the end of it." Firmness had crept back into his voice.

  "Again: we've purchases to make before we leave, and it'll take more than a half-dozen pot-bellied peasants to stop us. We came here to obtain goods and pay with honest coin, so stand aside and leave us to our business or blood will flow; I'll leave it to you to figure whose." Bridget was truly angry now and it showed. Behind her Roger laughed in a nasty tone and spun Moonblade on its scabbarded point.

  The leader blanched. "Well, ah, then, no loitering. Buy your goods and straight out of town, and no disturbing of, well, anything."

  Bridget shrugged, tossing her short dark hair. "Fair enough."

  For a moment she was tempted to push the issue further, but decided against it. Followed at a respectable distance by the squad, the three purchased fresh bread and pastries, hard trail bread, rye flour, and the leather for repairs. Out of perversity Bridget led the straggling militiamen, now reinforced by a half-dozen merchants and day laborers, on another circuit of the village before returning to their mounts, where she took her time inventorying the newly-purchased goods. Further time was consumed in donning their armor, but eventually the three and the wagon rattled beyond the town's limits.

  Arian pulled alongside the sullen priestess. "Engaging lot, weren't they?" he grinned sourly. "I hate to think what would have happened if we would have brought Kroh along."

  Bridget laughed. "Next time we will. It would provide them valuable instruction in manners."

  Aside from the trips between historic sites, the Badgers spent most of their time in one camp or another, each located on the most defensible terrain available. The average day would begin with Starr and one other, usually Janna or Elonia, making a thorough scout of the immediate area around the camp on foot; after breakfast a mounted patrol of four would sweep the area around the camp out to a distance of two or three miles, while Maximilian set off with his scribes and two Badgers as an escort for a day of studying the historic place at hand.