by Krpoun, RW
Robin Threadgill lounged in his seat next to Janna, a slender man whose neat beard partially hid a habitual frown. Robin held his unofficial position due to long service and as a sounding board for ideas: commonly nursing a generally gloomy disposition, Robin could be counted on to find reasons why not to do any given act, and to object to any suggested plan. Robin was also very nearly a founding Badger, for he had joined just weeks after its Founding, a veteran of the Imperial Legions who had been serving as a caravan guard on the fringes of the Empire.
Gabriella sat on Robin’s left opposite Dmitri; her inclusion in this group was due primarily to her popularity with the rank and file of the Badgers, a vast wealth of experience, and three years of excellent service as the Company’s primary scout, a position now threatened by the recruitment of the Lanthrell Starr. Raised in a half-dozen servants’ quarters as her father moved from wealthy patron to wealthier patron, Gabriella had absorbed six languages and the customs to match, rounding this out with ten years of bodyguarding in her own right before joining the Badgers.
Banging his mug on the table to kill the small talk, Durek called the meeting to order. “Listen up, we’ve business to discuss.” He studied each of the six Badgers in turn as he spoke. “Things have changed from the plans we’ve made, and we’re going to have to adapt damn quickly to stay ahead of the game.” That had their attention.
“Helvin and his company will be done in just a few weeks’ time, likely a month and a few days. That means they’ll want their payment before long, or at least double payment to wait for the tiles until spring. That is an annoyance, but we could work around it. What is worse is we have received an envoy from the wizard Bluefire.”
“If you have to receive bad news, than an envoy like Bluefire’s is the best medium I could imagine to carry it,” Robin laughed. A concurring grunt from Dmitri and a covert wink from Axel seconded his observation. Gabriella sneered openly, and Bridget’s sniff was audible.
“Whatever,” Durek wondered for the thousandth time at the Human predisposition to look at life from the perspective of sex. “At any rate, the Wizard has taken upon himself to order an immediate raid into Gradrek Heleth for the purpose of recovering a set of books that a previous expedition into the hold discovered, acquired, and then lost.”
“What is so damned urgent about getting those books right away?” Gabriella irritably swirled the wine in her glass. “Doesn't that bastard know what time of year it is?”
“Bluefire gives us one order, and then we’re even,” Axel smiled ruefully at the dark knife fighter. “We owe him from two years ago when he got the White Necromancer off our backs, at least temporarily. The wizard is nearly as dangerous as the liche, and a damn sight closer, so we can't afford to renig. As for why it has to be right away, apparently others are looking for the volumes as well.”
“Speaking of the White Necromancer, we’re going to have to do something about that bastard one of these days,” Bridget observed grimly. “It moves slow, but sooner or later it’s going to come for us.”
“Sooner rather than later, if we keep running afoul of its plans,” Durek nodded. “This summer’s incident did us no good, wiping out one of the liche’s own pet necromancers going about Eight knows what sort of dark errands. And how we are going to deal with an Undead spellcaster who never leaves that pile of ruins in the Wastes is sometime I spend a lot of time worrying about. But those are concerns for later. For now we concern ourselves with a raid into Gradrek Heleth. We cannot afford to alienate Bluefire, nor sully our reputation for honoring our contracts. After all, we’ve seen winter campaigns before.”
“Not north of the Ward, we haven't,” Robin observed sourly, the prospect of such an action wiping out the good humor brought on by the speculations about the envoy.
“The snow hasn’t fallen yet,” Bridget pointed out. “If we move fast it may be possible to be southbound before the real winter weather hits.”
“And until the snow is on the Wastes to stay the Orcs will be resting up and reorganizing,” Dmitri observed. “There will a few weeks where the chances of encountering a war party will be lower than any other time of the year, excepting the spring mud.”
“That’s the way I see it,” Durek nodded. “Decisive action, hit hard and run with the loot: practically our trademark. We’ll lay out the plan tonight, prepare tomorrow, ride the day after.”
“Fast action,” Dmitri nodded. “No point in waiting. Are we going to get the tiles while we’re there?”
“Yes, no point in making two runs into that death-pit. What I’m planning is a precision raid using a portion of the Company, as too many troops will just slow us down.”
“The troops are pretty worn down after the summer,” Robin observed. “This won’t be a quick operation, or an easy one.”
“Volunteers only,” Durek studied the swordsman thoughtfully. “Handpicked volunteers, only the best.”
“We’ve thirty under the standard at the moment,” Bridget mused. “How many were you thinking of?”
“Twelve: ten to enter Gradrek Heleth and two to guard the mounts outside. That will leave Axel enough Badgers to accomplish what we need done while the raiders are gone.”
“Now for the meat of the matter: which twelve?” Gabriella had produced a long-toothed comb and was absently running it through her hair.
“For the outside pair we’ll use Gottri and Kurt,” Durek began.
“Gottri and Kurt?” Robin repeated, a sneer stamped on his face. “Gottri’s thick as a stump, and Kurt’s a crybaby, one foot out of the Company.”
“Perfect for the mission,” Axel answered for his Captain. “Gottri’s a Dwarf, so very little in the mountains will escape his notice, and both Gottri and Kurt are not aggressive, they’ll avoid trouble if at all possible which is exactly what we need for the mount guards.”
Robin thought about that. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“For the ten going inside, I plan to lead myself, with Bridget as my second-in-command; Dmitri, you will stay with Axel.”
“I would rather you take him and leave Bridget - she’s prettier,” Axel interjected, raising a few smiles.
“Bridget’s a Healer and has some spellweaving,” Durek explained patiently; his word was law on all matters, but he was far too canny a commander to force an issue when there was time to explain. “We’ll take Arian Thyben as a second Healer, Kroh Blackhand for his Dwarven knowledge and his fighting prowess, the new Lanthrell, Starr, to get a better measure of her scouting abilities, and Janna, Robin, Gabriella, Trellan Northwind, and Nuilia Leandra-Klaun as a fighting-line.” The Captain eyed those named for the mission. “Do any of you wish to decline this mission?”
“You’re laying heavily on veterans for this one,” Robin observed sourly. “If we take a beating we’ll lose the heart of the Company.”
“We risk that every campaign,” Durek shrugged. “That is the nature of our profession. I believe that the Phantoms Badgers shall persevere through this trial as a Company, however many of us die as individuals.”
“Now there’s a cheerful thought,” Gabriella laughed. “Pretty words, Captain, dark but very pretty, just like me. Now tell us how we’re going to pull this off.”
Dawn saw the Badger camp seething with activity as the Company prepared for the raid. The various members of the raid who had not been at the council of war were contacted, advised of the risks and importance, and polled as to whether they would agree to go; all agreed, however reluctantly some individuals were. Those who were not included on the raid worked just as hard as those chosen as the effort of mounting such an effort called upon the full resources of the Badgers, especially as the force was to depart the very next day.
After a summer of campaigning equipment and weapons were worn and needed maintenance, repair, or replacing; some of the unit’s mounts were too tired to undertake such a trip and had to be exchanged, while others needed new shoes or repaired tack. There was the problem of assembling enough supplies
to support the unit in the trip, plus the equipment necessary to accomplish the mission, and then determining the best way of transporting it all across the many miles between Oramere and Gradrek Heleth. Durek had outlined a general concept for the trip and the raid itself and these concepts had to be developed into a plan and the details resolved, all within the narrow confines of a single all day.
By afternoon the logistics of the raid had been worked out and the preparations were nearly complete; each member of the raid had had his or her equipment and weapons checked, repaired or replaced as necessary, their mounts inspected, and the two light carts carefully gone over and packed with exacting care. When all that could be done had been, the raiders gathered in the mess tent to go over the plan for the raid.
Axel went over the reasons for the operation, the basic concept of the raid, the logistics, and the route to be taken; the crippled Wizard was good at such tasks, keeping the information simple and to the point, and throwing in enough humor to keep the troops from getting bored. Careful planning and thorough briefings were a hallmark of the Phantom Badgers, along with a high degree of training-both as individuals and as a unit; all together it had turned the Company from a group of unknowns to a respected mercenary unit in the space of just over six years.
Seated with Bridget, Janna, Robin, and Gabriella at one table, Durek sipped ale and studied the other seven members of the raid seated at the adjoining table, an informal separation of rank. At the head of the table Starr perched on a tall stool that lifted her higher than a chair would have, somehow appearing nimble even while sitting still. She was listening intently to the Lieutenant as he covered the raid policy for feeding their mounts; with only weeks with the Company she was an unknown factor, but appeared to be eager and competent, certainly she had volunteered easily enough despite the necessity of extended underground action. Durek suspected that the little Threll would undertake any risk in order to prove herself.
Sprawled in a chair next to Starr was Kroh Blackhand, a distant cousin of Durek’s who had joined in the spring and had shown himself to be a very solid warrior in any fight, and a tremendous annoyance when not fighting. Cousin or not, fellow Dwarf or not, clansmember or not, Durek would have sent Kroh on his way weeks ago but for the fortunate advent of Starr.
The Badgers had encountered the wandering Threll just hours before they had bumped into the Undead force belonging to the White Necromancer; in the fight that followed, Kroh had cut his way through a line of skeletal warriors to rescue Starr, who although a deadly archer, was less than expert with a sword. After the fight Starr had joined the Badgers in order to remain with Kroh and repay her blood-debt. A fraternal bond had sprung up between the Dwarf and Threll, so much so that Starr was able to influence the hot-tempered Dwarf and keep him relatively within the bounds of proper behavior.
Even in as diverse a company as the Badgers the two were an odd pair: Starr slender, lovely, innocent within a certain span of experience; and Kroh, a four-foot wedge of walking muscle with an attention span often equal to that of a toddler’s and a volcanic temper that was as stable as a one-legged duck. Kroh was a member of the Guardians of the Way, a brotherhood of hard-fighting Dwarves who simplistic creed was to seek out and slay the foes of Dwarvenkind wherever they could be found, a philosophy that Kroh had embraced beyond even’s its creator’s best wishes. The Dwarf, who went into a near-berserk fighting fury in combat, acquired his nickname from his habit of tattooing runic markings on his hands to commemorate the battles he had fought in and the various races he had killed. At a distance it appeared as if the Dwarf was wearing gloves of course black lace.
Next down the table from Kroh was Gottri Gurnisarn, one of the three Dwarves in the Phantom Badgers and about as different from the Waybrother as he could be and remain a Dwarf. Where Kroh was a slab of muscle covered in a scarred, hairy hide, Gottri was of a bandy-legged, pot-bellied physique commonly associated with Dwarves by Human artists; where Kroh was of volcanic temper and possessed equally deadly fighting skills, Gottri was mild-tempered and had only an average competence with the war hammer at his belt. While the Waybrother’s eyes glowed like a rabid wolverine’s with an insane cunning, Gottri’s honest brown eyes resembled nothing so much as a milk cow’s. A member of the Badgers for over five years, Gottri had yet to distinguish himself in combat or any other endeavor. ‘Thick as a stump’ was a common descriptor for Gottri, but never with contempt or dislike, for the quiet Dwarf was popular with his companions, and a frequent choice for any task that required diligence, the ability to work hard, and the need to follow orders without a lot of improvisation.
Sitting next to Gottri was Kurt Bandle, a husky ex-logger who had tired of sawing trees and had gone into the business of soldiering, spending several years as a caravan guard before joining the Badgers. Durek hadn’t expected him to last, nor even had planned to keep him long, but the blond logger had signed on at a time when they needed every body; after a long summer’s campaign proved him a competent warrior, Kurt was allowed to stay on. As of late, however, Kurt had been showing signs of restlessness, a certain concern about risks that usually preceded a change to safer occupations.
At the foot of the table was Arian Thyben, a tall, lanky, red-haired man gifted with bones that seemed too big for his body and a nose that dominated his not-unhandsome face. His country-courtly manner of speech and high-pitched, soft-toned voice had made more than one person mistake Arian for a fool and possibly a weakling, impressions that were far from the truth. Arian Thyben had spent eight of his thirty years as a Brother-Effector in the Order of the Fiery Staff of Beythar’s faith, tracking down cults dedicated to the worship of the Void and other proscribed groups, an occupation that demanded cunning, intelligence, and personal fighting skills. Although he still referred to himself as Brother Thyben, and could be accurately called a monk, Arian was no longer an active member of his Order, as few could carry the burden of cult-hunting for more than half a decade, much less eight years. His enlistment two years ago had brought with it the danger of cultist retaliation, but Durek had thought the risk to be minimal compared to Arian’s skills, knowledge, and ability to use Amplus Oseta, or Healing magic. It was, Durek admitted modestly to himself, one of his better decisions.
Across the table from Kroh was Trellan Northwind, a gnarled oak burl of a man who looked ten years older than his twenty-six years. Free with a song, a joke, his fists, or a blade, Trellan had held the position of ‘most difficult to control’ until Kroh had joined the Company. Trellan (who had taken on a Imperial-style name when he joined) had been born and raised on the docks of Evba, the capitol of the independent Duchy of Navio and the busiest seaport in Alhenland, going to work on a harbor galley-tug at the age of ten, graduating to a sea-going trader at thirteen, and a privateer at seventeen. His tales were full of the seas he had crossed, the ports he had seen, and the many women he had bedded, details of all of which were both plentiful and graphic. Why he had chosen to leave the sea-trade was a question he would not even hint at, although none who knew him would summarize that something as minor as a death-warrant for piracy would ever drive the fierce little sailor far from his beloved sea. Durek had chosen him for this mission because the little man (Trellan was a scant inch taller than Starr) was very good with a blade and would be much less trouble in the field than he would be in Oramere.
An empty seat separated Trellan from Nuila Leandra-Klaun, a wise precaution for nearly anything female within lunging distance of the peppery little man, although the rowdy sailor had learned the hard way that Janna Maidenwalk and Gabriella Zanetti were perfectly able to deal with his unwanted advances. Nuila lacked the savage strength or quicksilver skill to fully deter the Navian, and settled for keeping him beyond an arm’s length. The dark-haired young woman was included on this mission against Durek’s better judgment, and he regarded the lush beauty with some concern. Nuila had been the mistress of a wealthy merchant who had been active in the fur trade coming off the Wastes at the sleepy litt
le town of Blue Rock when a major Orc incursion managed to close to, and cross, the Ward before Imperial Seers or Legion patrols spotted it. The Badgers, the local Militia, and a half-century of Imperial Legionnaires had combined to defend the town, a harrowing action that had cost the lives of many of the defenders, including two Badgers, before Imperial troops arrived to drive off the Orcs.
Nuila’s patron had been killed in an ill-advised attempt to flee the besieged town; only quick and very daring action by Robin had saved the young woman from a very horrible fate as a slave of the Orcs. Impressed by Robin’s rescue (and unemployed), Nuila had stayed on after the siege was lifted, first as Robin’s live-in, later as a Badger in her own right. Originally trained as a dancer, the former mistress had developed into a keen hand with a sword-rapier, but Durek disliked her for her pouting ways and the measurable drop in intelligence Robin displayed whenever he was within sight of her. He had created the position of standard bearer and appointed Nuila to be the first to hold that position in an attempt to keep her out of situations where her actions might be crucial, and had decided to take her along on this raid only because Robin would have been nearly useless if they had left her behind.
Durek wondered why Human historians never discussed the effects of the unfathomable Human sex drive upon so many vital decisions; even after decades of interaction with Humans he could hardly comprehend it. Not for the first, or even thousandth time he thanked the Eight that he was a Dwarf, and above such things.
Chapter Two
The logistical elements of the briefing concluded, Axel yielded the floor to his Captain, swinging nimbly on his crutches to sit beside his wife. As the Dwarf stumped to the map stand the wizard had been using he was struck that this raid contained all the non-Humans in the thirty-strong Company (three Dwarves and one Lanthrell), and all but two of the females.
