by RW Krpoun
Neither moved to strike immediately; the two veterans eyed each other and considered, watching for a careless opening, an overly-hasty move. Four long heart-beats passed with the two watching, waiting, gauging, as around them the last of the Vaiar’s personal guard were cut down by the Badgers and the last Serao broke and ran. Then Durek tossed his axe at the Goblin’s face and leapt in, drawing his dirk as he moved. The tactic caught the Goblin completely off guard; instinctively he reacted to the axe coming at his face with a strong shield-sweep, intending to follow it with a low thrust with the point of his sword, standard sword versus axe tactics, but Durek hadn’t swung the axe, he had tossed it. The shield-sweep, made with a half-step forward to give it the weight and momentum necessary to deflect a solid axe swing with an armored Dwarf behind it encountered no real, the enchanted weapon clattering away as the Vaiar staggered off-balance, digging the point of his sword into the boot-torn ground to keep from falling.
Then Durek plowed into the General, driving his shoulder into his foe's right arm, the impact breaking the Goblin’s grip on his sword. As the two crashed to the ground the Captain stabbed again and again, seeking the Vaiar’s throat above the chain shirt. He might be far shorter than the Goblin, but Durek was easily the same weight and more in his armor. With the Vaiar having one arm imprisoned by the weight of his shield and the other wrist sprained by the disarming maneuver, the fight was short and brutal, much like the Dwarf who won it.
The Spider force was retreating, dragging off most of their wounded and some of their dead, setting afire what supplies they couldn’t move. The three Seraos that had broken earlier were reformed and on line again, but as a rearguard to protect the carts; Durek shouted for the horn-bearer and ordered him to sound the recall. The siege was broken, and the Purple Spider wasn’t much better; there was no profit in any further fighting. The Phantom Badgers had accomplished their mission.
Tired, battered, and bleeding from a half-dozen minor wounds, the Captain began marshalling his Company and allied forces together, preparatory to withdrawing back to their camp.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The morning had been cloudy and a little rain had fallen shortly after dawn, but by afternoon the sky had cleared up and the day had turned balmy. Durek sat in his stump-chair and puffed out clouds of aromatic smoke, a sheaf of papers across his lap and his axe close to hand. The Sagenhoftian recruiter had left on a river boat heading south yesterday, the week-long negotiations finally complete. The Dwarf mopped sweat from his brow with a kerchief and stowed the damp cloth; it was the first of Banteil (the eighth month of the Imperial Calendar), and even in the shade it was hot for a Dwarf who had grown up in cool mountain halls.
Next year he was bound by contract to report to Sagenhoft with at least one hundred armed and trained troops in anticipation of the coming war; pay scales, ration allotments, death bounties, and all the other routine matters regarding the hiring of a mercenary Company had been settled. The City-State had to lay out a much larger sum than they would have had to last year, but the upcoming war was an established fact and Sagenhoft was hardly isolated in its preparations. Every state in the Border Realms was buying arms and hiring mercenaries, both Companies and individuals, driving the market rates to nearly double what they had been in the past.
The Eisenalder Empire and the Kingdom of Arturia were building depots in the Realms and shipping supplies and military gear to fill them in anticipation of deploying troops into the area next year, and both nation’s armies were training and readying themselves for the coming struggle. The eleven Dwarven Fuar of the Thunderpeaks and the six in the Mondschien Mountains had convened Grundshele, or great councils between clans, to plan their reaction to the war. Further east, the Dark Threll nation of Arbmante seethed with internal chaos, crippling it as effectively as had been predicted, and the Hand of Chaos was openly readying for a war in the west.
There were political reshufflings as well: the Principality of Vasteras-Wesland, the largest and strongest nation in the Realms, became stronger after the Prince led his troops in overthrowing the despotic Master of the City-State of Narnhelm; Narnhelm then was declared the capitol of the new Kingdom of Vasteras-Wesland, thus reducing the number of self-ruling nations within the Realms to twenty.
The growing danger of the coming war and the potential threat from the new Kingdom in the north-central region of the Realms accelerated the gradual drift towards unity within the Realms (which had had begun as forty-two independent nations and city-states after the fall of the Pernia Empire roughly eight hundred years before). Two unions by marriage consolidated four petty states into two, reducing the total of sub-nations within the Realms to eighteen, a number which would surely drop further if the Hand held off for a year.
Changes had come to the Phantom Badgers as well: they had lost three killed in the counter-attack which had broken the siege, all newcomers whose passing had had little impact on the Company as a whole; the siege had, however, welded the remaining newcomers into real Badgers. He had replaced the six killed during the siege with new recruits, and added twenty more in the weeks since, all veteran warriors drawn in by the news of the Badger victories over the Spider. He had seventy-seven warriors here and eleven more at Oramere, and planned to add roughly thirty more before next spring. The growth of the Company, however, was creating more problems for him: the support staff was adequate, given the influx of orphans Arian and Janna had recruited, but the Company lacked sufficient officers to control the new force assembled. Reluctantly, Durek had decided to add a new Serjeant’s position and two Corporal positions to give him enough leaders, but this raised endless headaches. Who to promote?
He had made mistakes in making his Healers officers, which suggested that specialists such as Henri and Elonia should be passed over, and while Kroh was the senior Corporal, his hot temper made him a questionable choice; Starr was second in seniority but also was the chief scout, and thus another specialist who ought to be passed over. Rolf was third in seniority, but he was inexperienced in leadership, having been a Corporal for only one year. Maxmillian was competent as a Corporal, but was not seasoned enough a warrior to hold a Serjeant’s position. And so on; it made Durek’s head hurt. Decisions made in the next few weeks would have a massive impact on the coming campaign, which the Captain was certain would be the worst in the Company’s history.
They had had an awards ceremony last night, and he had been voted the Opal Claw for his command of the combined forces during the New Fork Siege; he had protested the award to no avail. No other formal decorations were awarded, although Starr received an Honor Roll entry for her single-handed raid on the Goblin camp, and the Teasau group (including Pug) received Roll entries for that operation. Durek had designated the Siege of New Fork as a battle worthy of recognition, making it the Company’s thirteenth ‘campaign’; all who participated it in were thus eligible to wear a gold stud to mark their participation. Promotions within the line ranks had flown thick and fast, as was common after a victory, and the Company had had a slightly belated celebration of its tenth anniversary, the actual date having passed some weeks earlier.
The decoration embarrassed him; he was the Captain and it was his duty to think fast, to lead the troops in combat, and to come up with the winning plans, so to decorate him for doing exactly that seemed unfair, but the vote had been carried without a single opponent, and he had bowed to the majority decision.
Sighing, the Captain stowed the documents in his writing case and tamped his pipe; there was time enough in the next few weeks to decide who the new officers would be; for now he would sit and watch his pipe smoke dance in the wind. They hadn’t had contact with Spider forces since the siege had broken, although they kept up their patrols and maintained their defenses; it looked as if the rest of the summer would pass peacefully, which was how Durek wanted it, he needed time to train and integrate his expanding Company. Time to prepare it for the dark tide that was going to roll out of the east and crash onto the Re
alms, and possibly beyond. It could be several summers, he knew, before he would have the luxury of an afternoon of idleness.
The Badger’s officers, less Henri who was leading the daily fighting patrol, were amusing themselves in the camp near the river; a pale, sweating Axel was dancing with a laughing Bridget, forcing his legs through fancy footwork and quick dance-steps to help loosen the grip the old wounds still had on them. With a major war coming he wanted to walk normally without cane or limp, and was redoubling his efforts to recover from the terrible injury he had suffered five years earlier.
Rolf and Kroh were playing draughts with their usual intensity, and Maxmillian (with his sleeves rolled above his elbows), Starr, Arian, and Janna were playing careau for bitts. Elonia was working with her turtle, who had as of late had lost all competitive spirit and was inclined to stump around in circles, turtle racing having once again become a favored sport amongst the inner circle of the Company.
The sounds of loggers at work drifted in from the surrounding forest; ten days after the siege had been lifted the Long Trunk Lumber Company had moved in and picked up where the Clean Saw (now defunct) had left off, along with another surveyor’s group. The sounds of stonework were absent, however: Haakon’s crews had finished the last blockhouse a week ago, and had departed with all their tools three days later. The Badgers had thrown the Dwarves a farewell party, and had been sorry to see the stone workers leave.
“Come on, Jocko, dig in and move,” Elonia urged her racer, who was studying the ground around him with a suspicious air. The Seeress grinned ruefully as Jocko took a single ponderous step and stopped to peer myopically at a passing butterfly. She gave the turtle a pat on its shell and sat upright, the warm summer breeze tugging at the strands of hair which had escaped her bun. It was a good day, she decided, a fine summer day made to be spent with good friends in casual endeavors, if not outright silly pursuits. There wasn’t anything wrong with simple things or lazy afternoons, she reflected; that was what the Spiral never understood: there was a great deal to say for simple pleasures and friendship.
There wasn’t anything wrong with being in love, either, she told herself, glancing over to where Maxmillian was frowning at his tiles, and for an instant she heard Myra scream and Zari blurting a curse in Opatian, and ‘Elonia, I’m here’ in a panting voice. ‘He charged into a house without armor, not knowing for certain how many were in there or what they were capable of, and he did it for me’ she thought, and smiled a bit. The Spiral hadn’t understood that part of it, either; all they wanted was their own pleasure, not realizing that two joined by affection are much more than the sum of their individual worth. They were too wrapped in their dark practices to remember the value of simple things.
She looked down and was surprised to see her turtle was a good five feet from where he had been and was stumping along with determination and a solid turn of speed, turtle-wise. “That’s it, Jocko-you just have to commit.”
About the Author
RW Krpoun is a native of North Dakota and a longtime resident of Texas. He lives in the country with his wife Ann and a collection of ill-mannered yet highly photogenic animals whose antics are the stuff of legend. A veteran of the US Army and Texas Army National Guard, RW has been a Texas Peace Officer for over twenty-five years and counting, serving in a Sheriff’s Office and two Municipal Police Departments. His hobbies include shooting, reading, and both collecting & learning to use medieval weapons. Dark Practices is his seventh published novel.
Imperial Calendar
The Imperial calendar breaks the year into twelve months, each of four eight-day weeks.
Achemteil: 1st month.
Chiffteil: 2nd month.
Marlt: 3rd month.
Kammteil: 4th month.
Natterteil: 5th month.
Gleichteil: 6th month.
Summteil: 7th month.
Bannteil: 8th month.
Zahmteil: 9th month.
Hoffnungteil: 10th month.
Frosteil: 11th month.
Schnienteil: 12th month.
Glossary
Abedo Vardo: Gate Magic
Alhenland: The northern continent.
Ampara Oseta: Clerical magic.
Amplis Novo: The art and arts of Seers, those who delve into the future, the past, and the geographically-removed present.
Amplus Viraes: The Healing arts.
Amplus Xystus: The Watchers, a sub-branch of Seers trained for very specific types of work.
Andern: The pure stuff of the Void, drawn through special places known as anverax, or verax.
Ankule: Felher spear thrower.
Anverax: A place where the highest grade of andern can be drawn. Only two anverax are known to exist, with a third having been altered in the distant past. A fourth is in the process of being activated by the Direthrell.
Bitt: The smallest coin in the Eisenalder Empire, a tenth of a penny.
Black Dwarves: Void-worshipping Dwarves, so called because their smithing methods leave a dark tone to their metal-work. See also Darklings, Fortren.
Careau: A game of hexagonal tiles that is a cross between poker and bridge.
Chorapel: Direthrell field-grade officer. Military Chorapel commands a Yalbar. Maximum rank for a Nepas.
Choralon: Direthrell field-grade officer. In the military, the deputy commander of a Yozbar.
Clanguard: Dwarven professional troops.
Cleft: Felher wizard.
Comhla: The Lanthrell language.
Curion: Direthrell verbal salute (‘Sir’) to superiors of the highest level. See also Orbi, Curoria, Curor.
Curor: Direthrell verbal salute (‘Sir’) to immediate or close superior. See also Orbi, Curoria, Curion.
Curoria: Direthrell verbal salute (‘Sir’) to higher superiors. See also Orbi, Curor, Curion.
Darkhost: A Direbreed army.
Darklings: Dark-worshiping Dwarves, as called by non-Dwarves. See also Black Dwarves, Fortren.
Direthrell: Dark Threll.
Egrai: Primary Gate magic portal.
Egran: Secondary Gate entrance.
Fauces: Threll wood used in bows. See also Iocor.
Felher: Rat-men created by the Black Dwarves, whose ancient uprising crippled the Void-worshipping Dwarven clans.
Fiadaich: The Dwarven language.
Figann: The Eyade language.
Flaum: Dwarven cement mix.
Flaume: Dwarven cement in finished form.
Fortren: Chaos Dwarves, as called by Dwarves. Means The Fallen. See also Black Dwarves, Darklings.
Fuar: Dwarf clan.
Ganjon: Goblin language.
Girmek: Threll crystal.
Gracue: Non-knighted Arturian light horse.
Grad: Dwarven word for fortress.
Gradrek: Dwarven word for City.
Gron: Dwarven word for fortified outpost.
Gronek: Dwarven word for colony.
Grundshele: A great council of Dwarven clans, essentially the controlling body of a Dwarf-nation.
Guta: A Goblin camouflage smock.
Harthrell: Sea-faring Threll.
Hekka: Felher war adze.
Heller's Pox: A sexually transmitted disease found amongst Direthrell.
Het: Goblin junior officer.
Iocor: Threll ironwood used for weapons and armor. See also Fauces.
Izar: Dwarven long axe.
Jednostavan: Navian knife fighting.
Johat: Goblin village great hall.
Jonama: Mounted Goblin scout.
Jongala: Mounted Goblin warrior.
Jugata: Goblin warrior fighting on foot.
Juran: A Dwarf who works outside the holds for the benefit of the clan.
Kanketa: Goblin village.
Keiba: A Goblin tribe-nation.
Kerth: Bison.
Lana: Threll Forest.
Lana Erhani: Forest Warders. The deadly Threll scouts.
Lana Erin: Forest Guard. The regular warriors of a Lana.
Lana: Threll word for forest (homes).
Landgreave: The ‘new’ Imperial nobility, marked by the addition of ‘von’ or ‘van’ to their name.
Lanthrell: Forest Threll.
Lapla: Goblin sergeant.
Latava: Dead language used by practitioners of the magical arts and some academics.
Lomba: A narcotic similar to hashish.
Morean: A Thebian basket-hilted claymore.
Monei: A Thebian two-handed claymore.
Nepas: The Direthrell word for half-breed with Direthrell blood.
Odular: A Goblin patrol.
Orbheart: An Evening Gate cult focus.
Orbi: Direthrell verbal salute (‘Sir’) from slave to any non-slave. See also Curor, Curoria, Curion.
Ovaka: An Orc supply fort.
Pa: A Goblin Corporal.
Pac: The Felher basic social unit, and a warrior unit of six to ten sections, each section having up to ten Felher.
Pargaie: Direthrell spy / assassin corps.
Peteca: Poppy from which several narcotics are made.
Risarn: Dwarven meteoric steel.
Serann: Goblin officer, Serao commander.
Serao: A Goblin company of a sixty to a hundred warriors.
Simser: Threll lattice armor made of wood and silk.
Solerate: A Navian cut & thrust sword.
Sufland: The southern continent.
Tamall: A Goblin trader.
Tamek: Goblin artisan.
