Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two

by Christopher Pepper

  “I'm, uh, sure he is. But I'll pass.”

  “Alright, suit yourself.” Johan took a breath. “Alek, you like it here, right?”

  Alek's face twisted in confusion for a second. “What? I mean, yeah of course I do. I was nervous at first, you know. But I like it. The responsibility, the teamwork, all that stuff. Plus the pay is alright, and I get tons of food.” His face looked concerned and he leaned forward slightly. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Someone pissed at me? Is it what Vegard and I did to Ryker's boots? Because that was just a joke, honest!”

  Johan suppressed a grin and filed away that little bit for later. It was hard to stay serious around Aleksander, he noticed. The man was so earnest and disarming and just so damn...likeable. It was odd. And that oddness, coupled with everything else about the man was just more fuel for the fire of Johan's curiosity.

  “You know,” Johan said, “I had had this whole big plan of how to approach this issue. I had different tactics planned to try and get it out of you, but now that you're here I'm just going to say 'pike it' and go right for the kill.”

  “Uh, okay,” Alek said, his confusion evident.

  “Alek, just what in the Planes are you?”

  The change in Alek's demeanor was almost startling. The confusion vanished from his face, and a resigned look took its place. He sat back in his chair and took a drink of wine.

  “Wow, just like that, huh?”

  Johan shrugged. “Yeah, just like that.”

  Alek peered out of the small window in the room. “Well, I don't exactly know what to tell you. I'm just a man. Like you, Toma, and everyone else. Even, if you can believe it, like Ryker. Sure, I may be a bit strong but-”

  “Vegard is strong,” Johan interrupted. “You're something a little...more.”

  “Okay, fine. So I'm a little stronger than your average musclehead. What of it?”

  “Yeah but it isn't just that. Alek, we are in a rather dangerous profession and injury is part of the job. Except for you. You never seem to get hurt. I've seen you block a blade with your arm. Gods, you tackled a manticore a few weeks ago.” As Johan spoke, he saw Alek's face grow more and more pained. “Hey, look. No matter what, you're one of us. You've done nothing but save lives, help out, and generally make life better around here. You're a member of the Outrider Legion. And I consider you a friend. But hells, you can't blame me for being just a touch curious.”

  Alek took another sip of wine and looked from the window to Johan. “No, I guess I can't.”

  “Then, what is it? Where does it all come from? Are you, like, one of the gods in disguise? Are you some deity in man form, roaming the mortal plane for adventure?”

  That got a chuckle from Alek. “No, but sometimes I wish I was one of those. Maybe it’d make things easier to understand. As far as I can tell, I'm just a man with a few extra points in my strength and constitution stats.”

  “Well, what about your parents then? One of them a god or goddess? Or a wizard who forged you out of strength and magic?” Whatever amusement Alek was feeling vanished at the mention of his parents. Johan sensed he had hit close to the mark. Just what that mark was, however, he didn't know. Yet.

  “Well I guess,” Alek said sadly, “you could say I did have one of those tragic hero origins. When my father met my mother, they, ah, you know, and then they went their separate ways. Her parents, my grandparents I guess, were not pleased. So to avoid any scandal, nine months later, my mother tracked my father down, left me with him and my uncle and left. So I lived with them, my father and uncle that is. They were, um, town watchmen I guess, until...” Alek paused and drained his cup of wine. “Until the Akvan led one of his armies south during the Harvest War. We were in, ah, Tolfy, when the attack happened. I was...let’s see, five or six at the time? Anyways, while they were helping to organize the defense, my uncle carried me to one of the refugee wagons with a bunch of other kids, then he and my father joined in the fight.” Alek went silent for a moment.

  “Tolfy was razed,” Johan said for him, pouring Alek more wine. “During the Harvest War, I mean. There weren't any survivors.”

  “Thanks,” Alek said, drinking more wine. “And yes, you're right. I mean, I know it now. Had no piking idea what was happening at the time. Anyways, Tolfy was burned to the ground. The Akvan's army wasn't taking prisoners, nor was he too keen on letting people escape. The refugee group I was with was eventually found by some of his raiders, and I ran before I was killed.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Made my way to Karoguard, and that is basically that. I had held out hope that my father or uncle would show up looking for me. But like you said, no survivors.”

  “Why didn't you track your mother down after? Sounds like you know who she is.”

  “She gave me up once, you know? Why try again? Plus, knowing of her was a lot different than actually knowing her. She was basically a stranger to me. Still is. Besides, I was in good hands with Greogory. That was the man who took me in in Karoguard.” He paused again to finish his second cup of wine.

  “That's all quite a story Alek. But, um, it doesn't really explain anything, about what you can do, and why?.”

  “I don't know what to tell you,” Alek said, looking into his cup. “Can't it be enough that maybe I was just born like this? People are born with all sorts of strange things.” He looked up, frustration in his voice. “I mean, people are born with the ability to use magic, or to see the future, or to divine water with a piece of damn wood, and we've gotten used to it. Maybe what I can do is a little less common, sure, but, it doesn't have to be anything more than that.”

  Johan nodded slowly, considering.

  “Look,” Alek said, “I really...well, I'd really not like to talk about this anymore. Can you, you know, put it behind us or something?”

  “No. No, Alek I don't think I can.” Alek looked crestfallen, and set his cup down. Johan waited a moment before continuing. “But...”

  “But?” Alek echoed.

  “Look, I can't and won't promise that I won't bring it up again later, or that if I get the opportunity to know the truth I'll look the other way. But...you're one of us. You've shown that, time and time again.” He rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Now put your mind at ease.”

  Alek stood and grasped Johan's hand, a relieved smile on his face. “Thank you Joh. Uh, I mean sir. It means a lot to me. I mean it. Ah, you know what I mean.”

  “Right then, faithful cook. Get together some field supplies for us, and let the others know to get ready. I want us prepped and ready to leave once Ryker and Garm come back.”

  Alek saluted and left the room. Johan finished his own cup of wine and began to put on his armor. His sense of unease didn't fade as he replayed the conversation in his mind. The only thing Alek's story made abundantly clear was that he was lying. Halfheartedly at that. The Harvest War was almost one hundred years ago. And the city-state of Tolfy wasn't involved in it, nor was it anywhere near the city of Karoguard. Oh, it was sacked and burned, that part was true. Just not by the Akvan. Johan would know. He had made it a point to study all of the Akvan's campaigns and strategies. Some people tended to fixate on the men who kill their heroes.

  Still, Alek had been nothing but loyal to the unit since they took him in six months prior. If he had wanted to hurt one or all of them, there would probably be precious little the entire unit could do to stop it. It was a strange feeling at times, having something like him living in their midst. Like having a mastiff as a pet, one that you weren't sure was rabid or not. The others didn't seem to mind it much, except for the occasional bout of wonderment, but Johan just couldn't stop scratching that itch. And if he was being completely honest with himself (ha ha), all of the men had secrets of one sort they kept from the others. Poor Alek's just happened to be a rather visible one at times. If he kept pressing Alek, would he have to start doing the same to Vegard? Toma? Or, thrones, Garm? Garm already had enough literal bodies buried in his past that Johan was shocked the scarred man had his
trust. No, he could let this be. For now. But if it ever looked like Alek was going to become a danger to his men, Johan wouldn't stop until he got to the bottom of things.

  Johan had just about gotten his boots on when there was a rapid knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he said as he finished. Toma came hurrying in, a scrap of paper in his hand.

  “Sir,” the boy said ('Boy', Johan thought bemusedly. Toma was almost nineteen. A man in his own right.), “this just got here from Coula. It's from Garm. You need to read it right away sir.”

  Johan reached up and took the paper. He felt a flash of annoyance at first that Toma had read something addressed to him, but when he looked down at the hastily scrawled note, he saw that it wasn't addressed to any of them at all. Johan read the note, read in a very halting hand:

  Helo,

  We have a vere interesting situation here in town. 'R' is watching hostile forces.

  Unown strenth, but more coming for sure. Get here soon as possibul.

  Bring lots of weapons. And Food. But don't draw attention to yourselves.

  Come into town separately. Will explain all. Meet at inn. Also have Toma

  get my blu lockerbox from my room to.

  Get here fast. Could be a real opportunity.

  G.

  Johan looked up, startled at both the immediacy of the letter, and at whatever it was that Garm thought would be a 'real opportunity'. He looked up at Toma, who had a hint of excitement on his face.

  “Did you read this?” he asked.

  Toma nodded, he cheeks coloring slightly. “On my way up the stairs sir. I, er, I know you're the only one who gets messages, but wasn't addressed to anyone.”

  Johan held up a hand. “It's okay, that's not what I meant.”

  “Good, uh sir.” Toma's concern was replaced with determination. “I'll go round up the other two.”

  “Get to it,” Johan said as Toma saluted and ran down the stairs. Standing, Johan felt a small thrill run through him.

  Finally, things were about to get interesting.

  After hustling through the kitchen and grabbing a quick hunk of cold meat from the unprotected pantry, Toma found Vegard and Aleksander easily enough. They were standing in the practice area among the training dummies. The two men were so large that, even in the daylight, Toma was reminded of the giant statues in the private gardens of nobles in the Guilded District back home. Alek stood only an inch shorter than Vegard, which made the two of them an imposing sight indeed. Alek stood with his arms up, Vegard standing behind him. Alek's posture looked odd, Toma thought. His back was straight, almost rigid. And his hands were behind his head, fingers interlocked as if a prisoner. A glimmer of reflected sunlight caught Toma's eye between the two hulking forms. Vegard stood with his jagged-bladed knife pointing to the small of Alek's back. As Toma got nearer, he heard Alek's voice.

  “Hurry up and get it over with, will you?”

  To his horror, he saw Vegard nod and, with one slow motion, he slowly thrust his knife into the small of Aleksander's back. There was an instant of disbelief in Toma's mind as he saw Vegard lean awkwardly to the side, still holding the knife in Alek's back. Toma cried out and started running towards them, the others behind him. He was about to launch himself at Vegard when he heard their conversation.

  “So how about this?” Vegard asked, his voice casual.

  “Nope,” Alek replied, his eyes closed, an almost serene look on his face. “Still nothing.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “No. Well, I feel you stabbing me with that knife, but I know your blade isn't breaking the skin, and I'm not feeling pain or anything. It's like I'm stopping it, almost.”

  “Hmm, okay that's interesting.” Vegard set his knife down and, on a battered piece of paper with an expensive-looking pen, scribbled down some notes.

  “What the hells is going on here?” Toma exclaimed. Both Vegard and Alek jumped at the kid's voice. Toma may have just had a tenor voice, but there was strength in it when he used it. The two Outriders turned to look at Toma just as the Commander, now wearing plain clothes, walked from the doorway of the barracks and strode over to them.

  “Hey kid, sir,” Alek said, nodding first to Toma then Johan.

  “Mornin' folks,” Vegard said as his giant fingers nimbly rolled up his parchment and dropped it into a small metal case. “Guess you saw our little test, huh?”

  “I'm going to need a little more than just that before I think it was just a test,” Johan demanded.

  “Sure,” Vegard shrugged. He placed a massive hand on Alek's shoulder. “Well, as to our little test, well, Tiny here asked me to give it a try. Said something about figuring out just what he can and can't do.”

  “It's true,” Alek said, and Toma caught a strange expression on the man's face. Guilt? Shame? “I, well, want to be able to figure things out, sir. I wanted to make sure that,” his voice went soft and he looked at the Commander, “you know, I'm still a...a person and not some monster.”

  Toma caught the brief exchange of looks between Alek and Johan, but didn't know what to make of it. Gods, he thought, he had been a little too distant lately with his contraptions.

  “So let me get this straight,” the Commander said to Alek, his voice strained. “Your big grand plan to prove yourself was to let him,” he pointed to Vegard, “stab you?” He whirled to Vegard. “And you. You just said 'sure!' and went along with this idiocy? You're our gods damn medico for thrones sake! I thought you were supposed to be the voice of gods damned reason here! Burning thrones!” he exclaimed. Vegard and Alek both looked guilty now. “Both of you suit up. We just got an emergency message from Garm. He and Ryker found some sort of trouble and need backup in town. Pack your heavy gear, but wear casual stuff. We are going to try and avoid notice. Be on your horse in five. Go!”

  The two large men quickly saluted and scurried away, like two boys who had been caught doing something bad but dodged punishment from their father. That brought a smile to Toma's face, as memories of his own childhood surfaced. He looked at the Commander, who ran a hand through his long black hair and blew out a breath. The Commander glanced at Toma, shook his head, and walked towards the stables.

  Toma ran back to the barracks flew up the stairs to the room he shared with Garm. One of the biggest issues his instructors had had with him in training, and something even his friends had warned him about, was that he had never seemed to be prepared for what life as an Outrider could toss at him. But he was learning. He threw on his own mail vest and wore a plain leather vest on top of that. Over his vest he strapped on his ready-to-go treated leather belt that carried his gladius, a large dagger, two smaller knives, tinder and flint, needle and thread, a small whetstone, his tiny signal mirror, and a small pouch of his new crimson stone dust. Touching the pouch with the crimson stone dust, he hoped he wouldn't need to use it. He grabbed his bow and full quiver off of their wall mount and slid them over his shoulder. Then he knelt down and pulled out a faded blue lock box from under Garm's bed. He starred at the lock box for a second, suddenly lost in thought.

  The lock box contained Garm's enchanted gauntlets, that when the scarred man wore them, coursed with the power of a thunderstorm. Garm had been given the gauntlets after a particularly brutal campaign far to the south, in the Bulwark mountains. Toma felt a mix of fear and awe whenever he saw them. He had never felt at ease around anything magical, especially not since that first mission six months ago. In the span of a few days, Toma had had his emotions manipulated by assassins from the Order of the Crimson Fang, had a rogue Outrider sorcerer guy blow away the horse he had been riding on, and been forced to fight unearthly monsters with no faces. So no, he thought as he stared at Garm's lock box, he was not a fan of magic.

  With that thought in his head, Toma knelt and pulled out a small box from under his own bed. Opening it, he pulled out what he had come to call his “contraptions”. He had been working on them in secret for months now. Well almost in secret. He had needed Ve
gard's input from time to time. All of his pay and leave time had gone towards procuring the materials for them. He pulled out his two bracers and his hunting jacket and put them on over his clothing. None of them were of fine quality, as they were only there to carry his contraptions. His bracers were little more than stiff fingerless gloves that stopped past his wrists. But on each one he had affixed tiny shards of dull black crystal. His hunting jacket was weathered and faded, but it had large and small shards of different shades of the crystal sewn within it, with two larger pieces of the black crystal around the collar. The different colors of crystals should, in theory, have different effects when exposed to magic. Some should absorb it, some should reflect it, and some should negate it. The shards on his bracers and collar could also detect it, and those he had been able to successfully test. Yes, he thought grimly, he was indeed learning how to be prepared.

  As he put it on, papers fell out from the folds. His correspondences with Leonid, a Weaver and his friend from Tethis. Leonid had been the one to gently nudge him towards making these tools. He had provided advice and instructions on how to create the crystals, but most of all, Leonid had provided a counterweight to Toma's own fears. Leonid was a Weaver, perhaps the most powerful mage around, but he never put down Toma's fear of magic, or downplayed the effect it could have. Leonid knew more than anyone the devastation magic could have, either on an individual or a country, and always lent a sympathetic ear. Toma found that he had confided in Leonid fears and misgivings that he didn't want to share with his friends. The last thing he wanted from anyone was to be babied. Leonid had understood. And he had given Toma the means to face his fears. Literally.

  Feeling much more secure in his creations, Toma gathered up Garm's belongings under one arm and hurried down the stairs. He ran into Alek, who was rushing out of the kitchen. In one large hand, Alek was carrying his longsword, a pair of gloves, and his mail shirt. In the other he had a number of small packs that Toma recognized as their ration bags. Each had enough dried fruit and meats to last an Outrider a few days of hard travel. Toma grinned at Alek as they fell into step next to each other running through the barracks.