Dark Practices: Book Four of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  She had picked off two Goblins for sure and wounded several others to some degree when a Pa charged out from under the far overhand, whirling a pot around his head that trailed smoke like a priest’s incense burner; realizing what he intended, Starr waited until he released the pot, sending it flying straight at her, before rolling off the wall. Durek had said to stay up there and provide covering fire, but as that would now include burning to death from a fire pot strike she decided to join in the melee.

  Rolling to her feet, she drew Snow Leopard as she looked around: the Goblins at the north wall were reduced to a Het, a Lapla, and an ordinary jugata, all standing with their backs to the logs, ready to sell their lives dearly. Thrusting the point of the blue crystal blade into the soil, Starr drew and released an arrow, pinning the Het to the logs as a thrown axe from Janna shattered the skull of the Lapla and Durek’s enchanted throwing axe killed the third Goblin, the latter weapon ripping itself free and flying back to the Captain’s hand at a word of command.

  Tossing her bow on top of a Goblin water barrel, the little Lanthrell unshipped her buckler and took up Snow Leopard as a dozen jugata charged from the south wall, losing one of their number to Kroh’s axe making its impossible flight to kill the last Lapla, and another to Durek’s enchanted throwing axe, which killed its victim before breaking in a flash of blue-green light, the energy in the aging enchantment failing. Ten Goblins confronted ten Badgers in a ringing clash of weapons meeting shields, armor, or flesh, and war cries and curses shouted in five languages.

  Catching the point of her foes’ spear on her buckler, Starr thrust at his face, hissing the word that activated what she called the Leopard’s Kiss, an intense wave of cold. The Goblin ducked, however, sending her point skidding across the boiled-leather helm he wore; the Kiss’s cold instantly withered his ear into a twisted black rosebud and grayed the skin of the side of his head with frostbite, but the stroke had missed and the wound was not fatal. The jugata came back at her with the spear, which she parried with her buckler and tried a solid swing which he caught on his shield. Sidestepping and darting, the two hacked and stabbed at one another as the fight swirled around them, neither risking a break in concentration to see how their fellows were doing.

  Starr rammed Snow Leopard’s point into the Goblin’s fraying shield and twisted, severing three rows of reeds; she had already broken the thing’s wood frame, knowing that her foe's weapon was having little effect on her own buckler. Bringing her sword back into the low ready position, breathing hard from the exertion of melee on a hot summer day, she angled her buckler and waited for her opponent’s next move. The Goblin was breathing hard as well, oozing blue-gray blood from several small wounds just as she had several cuts, his eyes gleaming with the effort of his concentration. Both were aware that the sounds of the fight around them were steadily diminishing, and what the eventual outcome would most likely be, but the jugata’s determination never faltered: he was going to kill the Threll before him or die trying.

  When his spear lashed out Starr dropped to her left knee, knocking the weapon up with her buckler and going in under the Goblin’s shield with Snow Leopard’s point, feeling the back-punch in her wrist from the point of the sword slipping and cutting through the cord-armor, then the vibrating quiver as the tip left dead material and entered living flesh, the crystal blue blade (made of girmek, steel-strong solidified tree sap) flexing slightly as it cut through the diaphragm and slid into the organs beneath. Giving the hilt a quarter-twist to enlarge the wound, the little Badger withdrew and sprang back, her moment of vulnerability passing unnoticed to the badly-wounded jugata.

  As her foe staggered back, dropping its spear to clutch at the rolls of intestines bulging from the bloody rent on its armor, Starr darted in and finished the jugata with a ripping thrust to the throat. Stepping back, she looked around and found that hers had been the last Goblin on its feet; Kroh and Rolf, bloody weapons ready, stood nearby to make sure that she hadn’t lost, Durek was calling out orders, Janna was going from Goblin to Goblin ensuring that they were dead and collecting ears, and Emory was finishing off the row of Goblin wounded left from the first attack.

  “Took you long enough,” Kroh rumbled. “I thought you two were doing a summer dance or something, maybe you were going to keep him as a pet.”

  “Oh, bugger off,” the Lanthrell snapped, then flushed, embarrassed. “You could have had his head off and I wouldn’t have minded, I don’t worry about this ‘honor of single combat’ sort of thing.”

  “I’m tired,” Kroh laid his axe across his shoulders and rested his forearms on it, tattooed hands hanging down. “I don’t see why I have to do all your fighting for you.”

  “All my fighting? All my fighting? For me? Listen you hairy boulder....”

  Rolf wandered off to give Janna a hand as the two warmed to their sport; he could remember when Starr had been a sweet little Lanthrell maid, but years of rough associates were wearing off on her. He saw Veda climbing onto the top of the wall and waved, feeling a blush cross his face. ‘They’re wearing on me, too,’ he reminded himself. ‘But maybe not so bad.’

  The Badgers pulled down the fort; the logs would be salvaged by a lumber company with a charter for the area, an easy profit for them and a useful disposal of the fort-materials for the Badgers. They stacked the Goblin equipment with the damaged war engines and burned them all; the Goblin corpses were thrown into the river.

  Durek watched his battered and weary Company load aboard two river boats for transport back to New Fork. They had won yet another round against the Purple Spider, but the Goblins were obviously determined, and would try again, although not another river fort, he guessed. The chieftains would have to gain some sort of victory this summer or see a good portion of their keiba head north. He hoped the Teasau group accomplished their mission soon and rejoined them; he could use Elonia’s abilities these days, and the presence of five more veterans would surely be a great help.

  And Durek had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could possibly get.

  That night the Captain formally convened a Council of Honor to deal with the matter of decorations. The Badgers realized that recognizing outstanding actions was essential to a healthy unit, and had created a system of decorations; the decorations were the Topaz Claw for outstanding ingenuity in non-combat situations, the Opal Claw for excellence in combat leadership, the Emerald Claw for exemplary courage in combat, and the Ruby Claw for saving a Badger or suitable ally while placing one’s own life at risk. There was also the Onyx Fang to mark major wounds, and the Roll of Honor, a great ledger used to record deeds that were meritorious but not quite to the standard required for the four primary awards; Roll mentions were marked with a gold skull on the Company bracer, just above the silver studs which denoted years of service and the gold studs which indicated participation in a specific campaign or major battle.

  The awards were voted on by the Company officers, with Durek holding Elonia’s and Maxmillian’s proxies; Bridget was awarded the Topaz Claw for her planning in taking the smugglers, Janna was awarded the Emerald Claw for her heroism in the two attacks on the log fort, and the Me’Coners and Emory were given Roll of Honor entries for their actions as well. The party that followed was lively, with the exuberance of warriors who have lived to survive another battle and to see another day. Impressed by the Badger’s handling of the fort, three of the boat guards enlisted in the Company as well.

  In the woods outside of New Fork, Gruethenel Hakk’branbern sat and watched the fires and listened to the noise of celebration, his small troop of guards hidden around him. The foe grew stronger while they withered away; a constant mystery to the Vaiar (Goblin general); they stormed as well-made a fort as the Keiba had ever built and lost only three killed while slaying forty good jugata, they ambushed and harried with their weapons of fine steel and their intricately crafted armor, and always more came on with each victory gained. His jugata had killed ten on the river boat, and other rai
ding parties had slain a dozen wood-cutters near the Old Ward and another seven Humans at a farm in the area of Hohenfels in the last few days, but it seemed to make no difference. The Spider struck and struck and struck, and none of the wounds took hold. Somewhere, at some point, they were going to have to send a message to the Humans that the lands of the Purple Spider Keiba were sacred, and not to be exploited. These had been their lands for thousands of years, and the Spider would not yield them easily. The Humans needed a message they could understand, and here was the place it would be written out.

  Rising, the war leader of the Purple Spider Keiba motioned for his guards and headed east, deeper into the woods.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The cotton shirt, tight canvas breeches, and tall soft leather boots felt far better than any silk gown or lacy party dress, while the three-buckle girdle strapped tight around her hips to support the weight of her pouches and yataghans felt like a lover’s arms. After the day she had had yesterday the weight of weapons had never been so comforting; you didn't come that close to the very brink and walk away very many times, no matter how good or lucky you were.

  She had misjudged the cultists’ capabilities, she knew now, letting herself be blinded by their sick lusts and absorption with fleshy pleasures, when in fact they had made as professional an abduction as any Pargaie seizure team. They were masters of their dark practice, just as she was of hers, and henceforth she would treat them as professionals. They were good, but she and her team were better.

  The five Badgers, Dooaun, and Leta were seated at a table in the garden of the inn at which they were all staying; the latter two had been promised employment with the Badgers, and conducted themselves as if already sworn members of the Company. “All right, today’s the day: we take out the Orbheart and bring our part in this business to an end. Firstly, I want to say that no one goes anywhere alone, ever. We can’t hope for another lucky break such as I received yesterday; but for the favor of the Eight all of Maxmillian’s courage would have done me no good. Now, Dooaun, tell us what you have learned.”

  “I have been at it most of the night,” the Watcher began, and Leta kicked him under the table, a mock-serious frown on her face. “The bodies of the two coachmen back at the cottage are undisturbed, so I assume that what has transpired there is undiscovered. van Feuchter’s body was found by the cultists, who have been looking for him since early afternoon yesterday; I know this by Watching the area you left his corpse in, as not all of the cult’s artificers are shielded. For the main part I have kept a Watch on the place where the Orb is stored; now, while I cannot See it, should they move it I could tell.”

  “How?” Philip asked. “How could you tell if they move something that is invisible to your Sight?”

  “Firstly, because I would assume that they will take special precautions when doing so, so a well-armed empty wagon would be noticeable; secondly, because it is not invisible, but rather, a hole in my Sight. Motionless it is invisible, but when being moved I can detect the disruption of my vision if I know where to Look. I could track cultists in the same way except that the ‘hole’ they make is far too small.”

  “Good, at least we know it’s still in place,” Maxmillian grinned. “I would hate to have to hunt it.”

  “It is well-guarded, however: in this house lives the owner, his brother, a butler, and three servants, one of whom is male. The butler and at least the male servant would appear to be cultists. Additionally, four armed men arrived shortly after midnight, additional guards, I would expect.”

  “If they’re cultists, how can you see them?” Tonya asked.

  “Because that close to the node....the Orbheart, my Sight is as if looking through a prism, and the distortion allows me to see movement...anyway, trust me when I say I can track them when they are that close to the Orbheart. I will not be exact or precise, but I do know the numbers.” Dooaun found himself missing the days when he led Vargrat a merry chase, hiding the truth in a fanciful twist of phrase; these Badgers fired questions like arrows.

  “Good enough,” Elonia brought the conversation back to the subject at hand. “We’ll assume everyone in the house is suspect, and every male is a cultist, which gives us odds of eight to five, not too bad under normal circumstances. We need a Healer before we attack, I don’t want anyone dying for lack of medical attention; Maxmillian and I will go hire one if we can.”

  “That’ll be a ticklish business,” the scholar observed.

  “True,” the Seeress conceded. “Tonya and Philip will make one last visit to Gerhard. I want you to find out everything he knows about the cult, especially if they have access to a Seer, Watcher, spell-caster, or enchanted items; get any names or addresses that might not be in the book Philip found. Dooaun and Leta will stay here in their room with the crossbows loaded and the door locked, keeping an eye on the Orbheart. Oh, and See what the Company’s up to as well. We’ll meet back here as soon as we’ve accomplished our errands. Pug will guard Dooaun and Leta until we return. Any questions? Good, let’s get to it, the sooner we wrap up these details, the sooner we can hit the Orbheart.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Gerhard asked, passing her a glass of wine. “It looks as if there’s a sword in that roll of cloth strapped to the side.”

  “There is, I picked up some of Peter’s things,” Tonya said, sitting at his desk with her feet propped up, careless about the way the skirt of her sun dress had fallen back to mid-thigh. “We’re likely to have to make a run up to a dreary little border-town for a few days.”

  The leather worker sat on the edge of the desk and casually laid a stained hand on her knee. “I can think of a few ways to liven up today for you, give you something to think about on the trip.”

  Tonya fixed him with a haughty stare. “I thought you didn’t keep any toys here, and besides, you know how I feel about dirt.”

  “Oh, I’ve been working on some things here, enough for our purposes; as it turns out, I misjudged my stock, I’m short on some common gear and a delivery is due tomorrow, so I’ve been working to make up the difference, and I have started keeping a few things here, too. As for the dirt, I’ve brought several clean blankets over for that very purpose.”

  “Really, Gerhard, you think of everything.” She tried to look interested, sultry, calculating, but the charade was wearing very thin. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt, so long as I keep my shoes on. I was thinking of starting with what you and the little blonde were doing there at the end, do you remember? When you were tied down and said you were finished, and she showed that you still had another arrow in your case?”

  The sheen of sweat the popped across his forehead answered her question. “Of course, yes, an excellent idea.”

  “Good; shall we adjourn to the workroom? Ah, you’ve the fire lighted in the stove.” While Gerhard swept a bench clear and laid a couple blankets out on it Tonya stirred up the fire, adding a handful of coal and casually leaving the tip of the poker jammed into the heart of the embers. “My goodness, Gerhard, you’re naked already? What an eager lad you are. Where are the straps?”

  “Did you bring your outfit, or would you like to try another?” Gerhard asked as Tonya checked the straps which held his wrists fast to a vise that was solidly bolted to the heavy workbench. His ankles were manacled together, joined by a short braided leather cord and anchored to a support beam by another cord, the leather worker lying on his back on the waist-high bench.

  “I’ve got my clothing in that bag as well,” the Badger said absently, looking through the box of leather goods. “Here, open wide.”

  “A gag? But that wasn’t part of it,” Gerhard protested as she held up a gag made up of a block of four layers of leather stitched together that fit inside the mouth, and a strap which went around the head to hold it in place.

  “That’s true, but I’ve changed my mind: you’ve been a very presumptuous boy lately, and it is time to remind you of certain aspects of our relationship. Now hold your mouth open.”

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nbsp; The leather worker shrugged and did as he was told. When the gag was strapped in place Tonya went to the alley door, unbarred it, and looked out, motioning. Moments later Philip stepped in and barred the door.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Philip offered, looking around.

  She nodded. “I’ll get changed in the office.” Tonya started to leave, then stepped over to Gerhard, who was watching the proceedings with a confused look. “Gerhard, I want you to understand one thing very clearly: back at the place under the barn, the brandy was drugged to dull your perceptions; the woman who came down in a hawk mask and my outfit was a whore hired for the purpose, a woman close enough to my build and with the painted-on hawk so that she could pass as me.” She watched as sudden realization filled his eyes. “Yes, you took me to the cult’s primary site, and I switched places with another woman, Gerhard. Think on the whys of that. Think why I never let you touch me, you sick, twisted bastard.”

  Philip eyed the glowing tip of the poker as Tonya stomped out of the room, put it back on the coals, took a canvas bib-fronted apron from a handy peg and tied it on. “Lucky for you I’m going to do this, Gerhard; she might get too enthused about hurting you.” He walked along the bench on the opposite side of the room and selected a few tools. “My name, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, isn’t really Peter, but it will do for our purposes. The lady isn’t my wife, although I’ve been with her in bed and I have to admit, you’re right in your pursuit of her.” He stooped to pick up something at the waste barrel, then walked over to the leather worker, who was straining at his bonds. “I wouldn’t bother, you know the quality of your own work. See this?” He held up the rough copies of the badge. “You made a couple finished badges a few weeks ago, didn’t you? Guess what we wear when we’re in uniform.” He smiled at the sick pallor that swept across the man’s face. “Yes, exactly. It’s all coming into place, isn’t it? You led us right to the cult’s site, you introduced Tera to Cens, and so on. First you’ve got to worry about us, then you have to concern yourself with the cult finding out. Quite a spot you’ve put yourself in.” Philip tucked the badges into his pocket and unstrapped the gag. “I hope you won’t do something as foolish as yell for help.”