Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two

by Christopher Pepper

  And so they rode, pushing their horses hard. The sturdy animals weren’t bred for speed, rather for endurance. But they could maintain a strong pace longer than most horses, so Johan didn’t hesitate to keep up the speed. Toma rode in front and led them wordlessly, leaning low to one side of his horse or another at times as he followed the trail.

  Surprisingly, Johan saw that Ryker at times was helping Toma. At one point Toma almost lost the trail through a large field of yellow flowers, but Ryker was able to pick it back up, setting Toma back on course. Johan had known Ryker almost his entire life, and his friend had never shown even a hint of woodcraft before. Had Toma been teaching him over these past few months without Johan knowing about it? At first Johan had dismissed the idea. He had a good handle on what his men were up to. But then he remembered not knowing anything about Toma’s consultations with Leonid on how to fight Weavers. Or Alek and Vegard’s construction of distilling apparatus in the basement for that matter. He needed to start paying more attention.

  After an hour of riding, Toma stopped them all with a raised hand. They all circled their horses together and let them graze. They had halted in a rather picturesque field. To the south they could just barely see the purple majesty of the very edge of the Bulwark Mountains, the tops of even the smallest heights lost in the haze and clouds. To their north was gently sloping hills where small homesteads dotted the landscape to the horizon line. The sun shone down on them through the almost cloudless blue sky, and while the sun’s rays warmed them, a strong breeze from the north helped to cool them even as they sat on their still horses.

  “Why are we stopping kid?” Garm asked. Toma wheeled his horse around so he faced the rest of the group. He looked confused. “Did you lose them?” The barest hint of urgency was in Garm’s voice.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. Besides, I don’t think we even need the trail anymore. With the direction they are going they can only be heading towards Bellkeep. They’ve all but beelined for it the entire time.”

  “Then what’s the holdup?” Johan asked.

  “Well, um, their tracks have been getting....uh, older.”

  “The hells does that mean?” Alek asked, scratching his neck through his hair.

  “Just what I said it means!” Toma said, a touch defensively. “We had been gaining on them, slowly but surely. But now it just seems like they are starting to outpace us. I have no idea how. We were just riding a straight shot.”

  “Those gods damned mages,” Ryker said from his horse. “Leonid could do similar shit if I remember rightly.”

  “Wait, what? You mean like they are...time traveling?” Alek asked, confused. “I don’t get magic at all.” Next to him Vegard shook his head, his jaw still held closed by his makeshift bandage.

  “No my doltish friend,” Ryker said. “The mages with Kinnese are making their horses go faster, that’s all. Leonid could make his fat ass horse keep up with our own. Just a little coaxing with magic is all.”

  “Well shit,” Johan said. “They must have recovered enough to be able to start using their tricks. Do we have a chance at catching them before Bellkeep?”

  Toma shook his head. “Like I said, the tracks are getting older. So they are moving faster and faster. We won’t be able to make it to Bellkeep until just past nightfall I’d wager. They will get there...probably an hour ahead of us.”

  Garm swore so violently that the Outriders jumped in their saddles. Garm’s own horse jolted forward at its rider’s hate.

  “I, uh, agree with the sentiment, Garm,” Johan said. “Let’s stop talking about it and get back on their trail. Once we get to Bellkeep we’ll hook up with their local garrison. Together we can find whatever crack Kinnese and the Underking slip into. Toma, even though we’re pretty sure they are heading to Bellkeep, don’t let the trail out of your sight. If they bolt for a different direction before we reach the city I want to know about it. We are not letting them escape, do I make myself clear to you all?”

  The tone of his voice made the Outriders salute without realizing it, and they spurred their horses forward, the Outriders falling into a loose formation behind Toma, galloping as fast as their horses could go. As they rode, Ryker maneuvered his horse next to Johan’s.

  “You’re pushing this pretty hard,” Ryker said, his voice as quiet as he could manage as they rode. “I haven’t seen Super Serious Commander Johan Else in a few years.”

  “I doubt there's been a chance like this to bring the Underking down before,” Johan replied, not looking at his friend. “So yeah, I’m taking this seriously.”

  “Serious enough to chase that sifar bastard into another country? You know, the Bellkeep army may tell us to pike off. Got a serious plan for that?”

  Johan turned slightly in his saddle, glaring at his friend. “Rye, have you got a problem with my orders?”

  Ryker was taken aback by the hard look in Johan’s eyes, and he eased his tone. “What? Hey, I’m not. You know me, I don’t take anything that seriously. It’s just…”

  “What?” Johan snapped.

  “I just want to make sure that we are doing this, chasing down a criminal with the connections to bury us, our families, and anyone we’ve ever even said hi to, that we are doing this because our Commander believes it to be right. And that he has a plan for doing it. That he isn’t just winging it, or that this is the kind of reckless adventure that a certain hero of his would do.”

  “What does that mean?” Johan asked, puzzled.

  “You rarely put down that Sir Aldir book,” Ryker said. “And you’ve been quoting it an awful lot lately. The other guys may not realize it, but I do. I’ve seen you lug that book in your pack for years now. And I know how you kinda go through, uh, phases, when Aldir is all you can think about. I don’t want you taking foolish chances with our lives because you’ve gotten all charged up on your boyhood champion again.”

  “Huh. Didn’t realize that it was so obvious, or that it was becoming a problem,” Johan said, smiling. “Well, I promise you, on my sword, this has nothing to do with emulating Sir Aldir, or whatever you were talking about. Er, very little to do with it, anyways. You’ve got to admit though, this is the type of thing he’d do. He was a great man, Rye. I don’t see a whole lot wrong with following in his footsteps. And sometimes our goals in life can align with our ideals.” Now it was Johan’s turn to catch a warning look from Ryker. He must have quoted that line before. “Ah, but speaking as an Outrider Commander, it would go against our most basic of orders to allow a criminal like the Underking to slip through our fingers without making every attempt to bring him down. It’s worth the risk.”

  “Good. Can’t have you turning into the reckless one, that is my gimmick. That and I’m utter shit at responsibility.”

  “Yes, that you certainly are,” Johan laughed.

  To Johan’s right rode Alek, and he had drifted close to Johan and Ryker during their discussion. He had a distant look on your face when Johan noticed him get closer.

  “What’s wrong Alek?” Johan asked. “Are you worried about my decisions too?”

  The big man shook his head, as if waking up from a doze. “Oh, no. Nothing like that Joh. I, uh, mean sir. Didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation with Ryker either.” Alek’s eyes turned sad as he watched the ground in front of his horse race by. “It’s just that, well, I’ve heard a lot about Sir Aldir and his adventures too. You’d be surprised how much an orphan loves adventure stories about knight errants and wizards and all that. And, uh, even with everything I know about him, I’d rather follow you and your ideals instead of the legacy of a dead man, even a hero.” Alek paused for a moment to take a sip from his canteen. “I mean, yeah we all know he did some great things, but everything you’ve read about him is all second-hand information. You don’t really know who he was. The guy could have been a real dick for all we know. In fact, I almost bet he was. That is the kind of thing they’d have left out of the history books.”

  “Hah! Well put,” R
yker said. “There Joh, see? Even the lowly cook would rather you kept your head in the real world.”

  “Uh, thanks?” Alek said.

  “I get it, I get it,” Johan said, making a dismissive motion with one hand. “Don’t worry you two, I know who I am and who I’m not. Gods, if the two of you focused more on yourselves than on me, you just might become functioning members of society someday. Now come on, let’s catch us some outlaws.”

  They had been riding for what seemed like an eternity. Clinging to the reigns of his horse like a drowning man grasping at a rope, Kinnese kept his head down and his eyes shut tight. The daylight was blinding, even through his eyelids. Yet despite feeling like his skull was cracked open, and the fact that he was bleeding profusely from a number of lacerations on his face, Kinnese was hopeful that they would escape Else and his Outriders. That hope was all that was keeping him conscious. But hope, like all other things, is finite, and it faded to the point that he finally slipped just far enough into unconsciousness that his grip slackened and he fell off of his horse.

  He swam in the darkness of his own mind for what seemed like an eternity. It was a strangely comforting sensation, hovering there between consciousness and unconsciousness. Possibly between life and death. Faint, indistinct images pushed their way through the fog of the in-between. Four faceless men stood around him briefly, blood dripping down their arms. The sigil of the Outrider Legion on their breast. Kinnese cried out. He could feel an ache in his heart, a stab of regret at the sight of these four men, but he could not remember why. As he struggled to remember, the four phantoms seemed to solidify, as if materializing out of the haze of his own unconsciousness. He strode towards them, hoping to see their faces, to ask why they brought such pain with them, but the darkness claimed the four men, replacing them instead with a single figure, much more real than the four previous ghosts. The figure held out a chalice, filled to the brim, but when Kinnese looked, the figure’s facial features shifted, so different from one instant to the next that Kinnese couldn’t place him. Or her, as the figure changed sex as often as faces. Kinnese was rooted in place by the figure’s rapidly changing eyes. and his heart screamed at him that lies were on the figure’s tongue, and poison was in its cup. That it promised not only the death of body, but the death of self.

  Unable to move, Kinnese was helpless as the apparition approached him, cupping his head in shrouded hands. There was a tremendous jolt of pain, and the dark fog of unconsciousness was obliterated by the bright light of the waking world.

  There was an odd, unpleasant sensation coming from his temples. Slowly, deliberately, Kinnese opened his eyes and found that he was face to face with Naria, who was cupping his head in eerily the same manner as his nightmare had. When she saw him awaken, her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Gods, Jurgund, I didn’t think you were going to come back from that. It’s a mess up there. You might want to brace yourself. It is going to get a touch more painful.”

  “Wait, how long was I-augh!”

  There was a second blast of white light that obscured his vision, and he felt just as much as he heard a sickeningly wet crunching sound from his own skull. Naria let go of his head and it lolled backwards as Kinnese struggled to regain control of himself from the burning flames of pain that shot through his skull. His mouth watered ash-tasting saliva, and he leaned forwards and spit it out.

  “What...what in the name of the gods did you just do to me?” he panted.

  Naria stood up in front of him, brushing dirt and grass off of her clothing, making Kinnese realize for the first time that he was in a sitting position, his legs out in front of him. He looked up at her and had to shield his eyes from the sun shining down from a clear blue sky.

  “That blow to the head you took fractured your skull, which I just knit back together,” Naria said. “You had also suffered a concussion. There were also other...there are some complications in there. I did my best to repair what damage I could find, but the mind is a delicate thing, and it needs time to catch up to itself. But, I think something was definitely jarred loose up there, so to speak. You didn’t just get punched with a metal fist. There was magic in that gauntlet, designed to inflict pain and death. I’m shocked you even survived.”

  Kinnese grunted. “Anything permanent? Broken up here I mean?” He pointed to his head.

  Naria shrugged her slender shoulders. Gods, she was pretty. “I...couldn’t tell. That we're having this conversation, any conversation, is a good sign.” She was silent for a moment as she regarded him. “Let me know if you feel that anything is off. That’s sadly the best I can say right now.”

  Kinnese got to his feet, albeit a little unsteadily, and held out his hand. “Thank you, Naria. You didn’t have to do what you did for me, and I appreciate it.”

  Naria took his hand and shook it. “Think nothing of it. You’re my meal ticket, after all. Can’t have you dying before you bring me to this mysterious new job of mine.”

  “Fair enough,” Kinnese chuckled. “How is the rest of the unit doing? I remember Axil got quite a thumping, and I think Gallows took an arrow.” He held a hand up to his head as a dull ache spread through his skull. No, a part of him said. That wasn’t right. “Um, I think I’m confusing events now, my apologies.” He shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, my mind feels like it’s full of sand. What was I saying?”

  Naria’s face flashed concern, but it was quickly replaced by her usual no-nonsense expression. “The girls and I have been able to improve our speed somewhat, so we are hopefully putting some distance between us and the Outriders. Once you fell, I called for a quick stop to assess the damage. I just want to take a look at Pela and then we need to get on the move again. The girls seem fine. Exhausted, and still in some pain, but fine.”

  “What about Undis?” Kinnese asked.

  “Pike him,” Naria spat. Kinnese said nothing, but did his best to hide his smile as he looked up and saw the old man surrounded by Naria’s four acolytes. He still seemed his usual cheerful self, but there was a wariness in the lich's eyes that wasn't there before. And somehow that seemed to brighten Kinnese’s own.

  The two of them walked the short distance to Pela, who had dismounted at Naria’s order. Again, Kinnese was glad he had picked Naria from the list of candidates. Without missing a beat, she had taken over at a time when leadership was vital. If he could just find a few more people like her, they really did have a shot at...something.

  Just what the hells were they trying to accomplish again? It was something important, of that he was sure. Something to do with apples? An apple thesis? His mind grasped for the memory, but it slipped away like a fish in a pond. Keeping himself focused seemed even harder than usual. He needed to be moving, he needed action. The only time where he consistently felt sharp and in control was in combat. When he wasn’t in a life or death struggle, a fog of uncertainty and confusion seemed to envelop him. And the blows to the head had made that fog even worse. Just what was he going through all this for? Naria’s voice snapped him back to the world around him.

  “Okay, quickly now let me have a look at you,” Naria said to Pela, who approached hesitantly. Kinnese saw how the woman stepped gingerly, favoring her stomach. Naria saw it as well, and she strode forward and held Pela in place with one hand while she ran her other hand along Pela’s skull like she had with Kinnese, her eyes seeing things he and Pela couldn’t. Naria’s hand slid down Pela’s body to her midsection, and the silver haired woman reacted almost instantly. She yelped out loud, and a trickle of blood spilled from her mouth. Naria’s eyes went wide, but she held Pela in place with one hand as she gently ran her other hand across Pela’s chest and down her ribcage. Pela’s eyes went wide and her breathing became unsteady.

  “Gods girl, you have broken ribs and a punctured lung. Hold still. Now!”

  Kinnese watched as Pela endured the same magical healing that he had, and he felt a pang of sympathy. Wizards, Weavers, whatever you wanted to
call them, some of them had an affinity for healing. Healing magic had been romanticized in countless stories over the years. Sir Aldir was supposedly able to save a King who had been speared through the heart. The Archmages of Nelleh, it was said, could regrow lost limbs. Or just simple hedge wizards who healed scrapes and cuts for secrets and locks of hair. But what none of the stories ever talk about is just how much it hurts to be healed. Feeling tissues and organs being manipulated around, sewn back together, and sealed shut in seconds hurts almost as much as the injuries that caused them in the first place. Kinnese rubbed the spot on his head where, just moments before, Naria had seared him back to relative health.

  “Will she be able to ride after you’re done with her?” Kinnese asked.

  “Shhhh,” Naria hissed as she worked, a dull glow coming from her outstretched hands. Kinnese had to give Pela some serious credit. The woman didn’t utter a sound as Naria pieced her back together again from the inside out. Her face told the story though, and Kinnese gave her an understanding nod. After a few moments, Naria let the bodyguard go and turned to Kinnese. He could see the fatigue in her face and suddenly slumped shoulders. Kinnese realized she wasn’t in any condition to be their field nurse right now.

  “Okay, you’ve done more than enough,” he told her. “Let’s get you on your horse and haul ass to Bellkeep. Else and his killers aren’t going to give us any quarter, so I’d rather we didn’t see them. Again. Ever.”

  Naria nodded and slowly walked towards her own horse as Kinnese gently guided her. He helped her get foot in the stirrup and swing her other leg over the horse. Before he turned to mount up on his own, she fixed him with a look.