The Outrider Legion: Book One

by Christopher Pepper

  “What? Are you talking about treason? Within the Outriders?!” Johan could barely keep the incredulity out of his voice.

  Leonid held Johan in his gaze. “It, sadly, has happened more than anyone would care to admit. From time to time, Outriders have been known to go...native I suppose you could say. It isn’t an insult to your Legion as a whole, but it is something that happens and needs to be dealt with from time to time. Usually it is just a case of men used to answering to no authority, and they simply need to be reminded they are but one link in the chain.”

  Ryker rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe this. No offense, friend, but the very fact that Outriders are chosen from the best of us should be proof against such things. We are the best The City has. To think that we commit treason with some amount of regularity is…ludicrous.”

  Leonid sighed and raised his hands up in defeat. “You’re right, you’re right. I mean’s no disrespect. I just wanted to provide some sense of illumination on why so green a unit as you may have been chosen for such an assignment. I have no doubts about your worth as men of The City.”

  “Damn right,” Ryker growled. “We may be ‘green’ as Outriders, but we’ve seen enough action in the Legions to know how to handle myself. Chief, I’m going out back to ready the horses. I’m all set to go.”

  “We’ll go with you, Ryker. It’s time to get going.”

  It was a testament to the men that it took them all less than five minutes to be ready, mount their horses, and head out. They all wore dark grey leather riding coats over plain clothes, concealing their sturdy armor. They also had a few personal effects, but other than that, they carried nothing but weaponry and food. Their Outrider barbutes were all packed in their saddle bags as well. They were easily identifiable as Outrider helmets, so they were to be worn only when concealment was no longer possible. In their stead, each man wore a leather cap, with strips of iron on the inside to offer some protection.

  As they now had no taskmaster insisting on everything be Legion regulation, each man also carried a few extra weapons with him. Toma had a pair of pilum as well as a sturdy hunting bow draped around his chest, with a quiver stuffed with arrows on his back, as did Ryker. They were both the best shots in the unit. Vegard also had a pair of pilum, or spears. Johan had a heater shield across his back, lacking any distinguishing markings. And Garm was attempting to impersonate a siege engine. He wore thick metal gauntlets, notched at each knuckle joint with what looked like the metal knots. He also had a large two-handed greatsword on his back, and strapped to the horse behind him was a large pack carrying a disassembled repeating crossbow. The crossbow had been given to him by his former Legion commander personally. Crossbows were illegal to possess on their own. A repeating crossbow even more so. But due to his meritorious service in the Legion using it, he was allowed to bring it with him to the Outriders.

  Only Leonid did not carry any weapons openly. Instead, his hands were almost constantly holding food and drink. His backpack was apparently full of various flasks and delicate foods, and his brown chest full of salted meats. If he had any weapon, it was his voice, as he would often break out into song. His husky voice butchered even the simplest of songs, and birds would take flight at the sound of his singing. Across his chest, where Outriders had strapped rope, scabbards, or other implements of war, he had a large earthen jug attached to a thong of leather.

  The six of them rode single file out of Newcomb Square, past the silent Clockwork Golem in the center square, out of the Art District. They were preceded by a chorus of howling dogs, who were attempting to either join Leonid in song, or drown out his voice. They took a side road out of the western main gate, with Johan having to show his signet to the watch commander.

  One aspect the Dominion of the City prided itself upon was its extensive system of roads. As any noble or local politician would be quick to tell a commoner, the Dominion possessed a system of well-maintained roads. These roads connected each village together in a delicate webwork that fostered lucrative trade and quick communication. The network of roads was also patrolled by local Legion forces stationed at various outposts in the Dominion, providing a measure of safety for travelers. Travel from the city to the ring of villages and outposts within three or four miles was extremely easy. But after this perimeter, the countryside was far less tamed. “Well-maintained” roads meant “hopefully you can see ruts from wagon wheels” and “patrolled by local Legion forces” actually meant “you have a fifty-fifty chance of seeing outlaws or Legion.”

  In this regard, the Dominion was really a victim of its own success. While it certainly was not be the largest city-state on the continent, or the most populated, it was undoubtedly the richest. Within the aforementioned four mile perimeter of The City, there were numerous silver and copper mines. The massive forest of Oberon provided a wide variety of timber and furs. The Bulwark Mountains in the south provided stone and metals. In addition, there was an extremely large deposit of various rare ores and stones to the west of the city dubbed “The Crater”. Smaller mines dotted the countryside, usually becoming the epicenters of villages or towns. This abundance of raw materials helped The City propel itself to the forefront of technological advancement, both mundane and magical. Skyships, golems, lamps, steam engines, and other fantastical inventions were all products of the Dominion’s vast material wealth. There were very few goods that had to be imported from rival city-states. Because of this, merchants thrived on the export business, creating a very potent middle class within the Dominion. Vegard himself had been young for a trader, but it only took three or four successful caravans to make a man wealthy. All of this wealth generated in and around the Dominion was inevitable funneled back to The City itself, to fuel its breakneck technological development.

  The Weavers and Mechers, emboldened by their successes, kept pressing the King for more and more. The King, to his credit, saw the need to keep them happy while caring for his subjects in the outlying areas of his reach. However, too little went to maintaining the rest of the Dominion, with the primary exception being the Legions. The Dominion’s countryside became little more than a source of wealth for the city itself. And all of this wealth flowing in one direction made banditry an appealing profession for the impoverished, especially those people from farming villages in the southeast. The Legion did it’s best to contain it without oppressing the populace, but it was always a constant hazard for travelers and merchants. Bodyguards and blades-for-hire had also grown into successful career choices due to the uncertain conditions of the countryside.

  Johan and the rest did not worry too much about their own safety as they traveled. Six heavily armed and trained men were not an appealing target for any group of rogues. That first day of travel went by slowly. With so much traffic on the roads in the outlying districts of The City, they could not ride with much speed for most of the day. Johan and Ryker were also leery of going too fast, lest Leonid’s poor, angry horse shatter its legs carrying the Weaver. But the horse kept up, riding in the middle of the group. It’s unending anger a stark contrast to the consistently jolly man riding him. If they had felt any disappointment by the lack of progress, it was softened by the excellent weather. As Garm and Vegard had warned from experience, where long trips were boring, long trips in the rain were completely miserable. But so far, the gods were smiling on them. Johan also knew his men were still in various stages of hangovers, so he was content with checking their pace early during that first day.

  Before dusk had fallen, they had made it through the hustle and bustle on the road, and were able to quicken their pace. To everyone’s astonishment, Leonid’s horse kept moving with easy grace, having no difficulty matching the pace set by the rest of the horses. The initial fear Ryker had held about Leonid holding them back seemed to be a foolish one now, as at times Leonid would ride ahead of the Outriders.

  When asked why he did it, he would simply laugh and respond, “The wind carried me ahead, my friend! Who am I to deny such a beautiful
lady?” He would then usually take a pull from his large brown jug around his chest. His mood became somewhat infectious, and the men, silent and aching from the night before, became much more talkative, ribbing each other and discussing what they knew of the countryside. In this, though Garm and Vegard had marched afield with their Legions, and Toma had often hunted with his father in the surrounding lands, Leonid knew much, much more of what was around them. Johan remembered being a little dismissive of Leonid being described as a seasoned traveler when they first met. But watching him in action with the men made him re-evaluate the fat man.

  Once, Leonid made the group halt, dismounted, and eagerly showed Toma something that had been left in grass on the side of the road. The two of them followed whatever it was, disappearing from the group into the woods. Johan noted with surprise the sudden agility and swiftness of the fat man. He was moving as fast as Toma. The rest of the Outriders sat there bemused, staring at Johan. All he could do was shrug his shoulders.

  “The man’s special, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ll say this, he is not what I expected,” grunted Ryker.

  Vegard leaned in. “He is a Weaver, right sir? Do you think…well, do you think we could ask him to do some magic for us?”

  Ryker laughed. “What do you want him to do? Make a rabbit appear out of your hat? I don’t think he is much for parlor tricks, even though he’s likeable enough.”

  Garm looked over at Leonid’s angry horse. “We do not want to see what we can do. He is a happy man, I’ll give him that. But if he is a Weaver, I’d rather we didn’t get into a situation where he needs to act, if you catch my meaning.”

  Ryker moved his horse next to Garm and smirked at him. “Never thought I’d hear you shirk away from a sticky situation. Where’s this coming from?”

  Garm shook his head. “Nothing I’d like to go into specific detail about, sir. In my ten years with the Bulwarks, we needed a Weaver just once. It wasn’t…I…humph.” He sighed, crossed his arms and bowed his head as if deep in thought. He looked up at the sky. “What that woman did in one minute was storybook stuff, all right. But not on the heroic, Aldir side of the story. Let me just say that, as one professional judging another, I felt her methods were…distasteful.”

  Ryker didn’t know what to say to this. Garm was a different kind of man than the rest of them. They all knew it. So for him to find something repugnant in violence was rather off-putting. Suddenly, the booming laughter they had grown accustomed to echo through the woods.

  Leonid and Toma emerged from the brush. Toma had his bow in one hand, and three small rabbits in the other. He also wore the broadest smile the Outriders had seen on him yet. Leonid deftly climbed onto his horse, and laughed once more.

  “That lad has a killer eye, I’ll say. I just had to show him the trail, and WOW, he got us some dinner! I’ve got some herbs that will go nicely with them tonight! I do so love traveling with professionals. Oh,” he paused, and looked over at Vegard and Ryker. “Sorry boys, I didn’t have a hat to pull them out of.” He mimed taking a hat off and pulling something out of it, winked at them, and spurred his horse on. “Shall we continue, gentlemen?”

  The two men exchanged looks before spurring their own horses.

  They made camp that night just off the main road. They all agreed, including Leonid, that they had no need to try to conceal them at this point. They set up the night watches, and settled in for sleep. Ryker drew the fourth watch, and relieved Toma. He picked up a stick and poked it into their dying fire, causing the embers to flare bright orange before fading back to a dull red. He stared into the fire for some time, lost in thought. He heard a crack beside him, whirled around, drawing his bow and an arrow, only to see Leonid sitting down next to him, his hands raised over the embers. As Ryker prepared to utter a wonderfully complex curse his tongue seized up as he watched the dying fire rise spark back to a full blaze, the flames rising up two feet to engulf Leonid’s hands. The fat man grunted in approval and dropped his hands back into his lap.

  “I am glad that you and I have this opportunity, Sir Ryker. I have been meaning to speak to you.”

  Warily, Ryker put the bow and arrow down next to him, his eyes never leaving the Weaver. “What, now? What couldn’t wait until the morning?”

  Still staring into the now lively fire, Leonid continued as if Ryker hadn’t spoken. “I wanted to get a measure of the men on this ranging. Not surprisingly, I too share some amount of trepidation regarding the particulars of this mission. And as I know nothing of the other Outriders involved, I am choosing to know you and your men.”

  “Oh?” Ryker asked. “This is what you waited until the small hours to approach me with? Just how does your mind operate, I wonder? Piss me off and scare me half to death, and then you want a heart to heart? Is this how they teach conversation in magic school?”

  Leonid smiled. “You’ve got fire in you, no doubt. But you’re a difficult book to read, if you don’t mind the metaphor. For example, your commander Johan is very easy to figure out. A young man trying to do what he thinks is right, even though the world does not, and never did, conform to his vision. He has just the right combination of honor and duty to be inspiring without becoming insufferable.”

  “He has his moments…” Ryker muttered.

  “Well of course he does. We all do!” Leonid paused to take a long pull from his jug. He offered it to Ryker, who shook his head. “His bearing and manner can only result in one of two outcomes. He becomes a hero, like his role model Sir Aldir, or he dies early in his career, his inflexible honor ruining him.”

  Disquiet settled over the two of them for some time. It was heavy, like a fur cloak around Ryker’s shoulders, and it wore him down. He sighed. “You could be right about him, fat man. But what does that have to do with me?”

  Cocking his head to one side, Leonid hesitated, as if choosing his words very carefully. “As I said, Johan is quite easy to read. But I wonder about you.”

  Ryker smiled, but his smile was cold. “Do go on.”

  “You are a man of some intelligence, and of some modestly successful means. You could have done one of any number of things with your life. But you signed up to serve, with Johan. I can’t tell why yet. Also, you are an extremely capable leader of men, perhaps even better than Johan. That isn’t to besmirch him, mind you. It is just that, unlike our young hero, your optimism is tempered by a heavy dose of pragmatism. Also, I’ve been told that during your Legion days, you were the first candidate for commander of your maniple, but you recused yourself when you found out Johan was also being considered as a secondary option. You consistently defer to Johan, and it mystifies me. The rest of your men have simple enough motivations. But you have some buried truth in you, and I wish to uncover it to satisfy my own disquiet.”

  Ryker bristled. “It isn’t enough that he’s my friend? Can’t you just accept that and leave me be?”

  “It’s enough for some of the choices you’ve made, Ryker. But not all of them.”

  “Pike, why do you care?”

  Leonid finally looked Ryker in the eyes, and held the gaze for a few seconds. To Ryker, it seemed like they held that gaze for hours. He felt locked under the fat man’s punishing eyes, like an insect pinned under glass. Waves of scorn and respect mixed in his mind, but he wasn’t sure if they were Leonid’s or his own. Sweat pooled in the small of his back, and he felt his temples twitching involuntarily. Finally, Leonid turned his eyes away from Ryker. The Weaver looked down at his hands and nodded slightly, as if coming to some consensus within himself.

  “You have no reason to trust me, I understand that. In fact, my very nature as an outsider almost forces you to mistrust me. And perhaps you are right, and I did not broach the topic in the best manner. But I need your trust if I am to accomplish my goals with you. So I am going to do something I don’t usually do. I am going to tell you the Truth. But before I do, I want an answer to my question. Truth for truth. So, have we a deal?”

  Ryker, r
ealizing he was breathing hard after locking eyes, simply nodded and stared into the fire. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before speaking.

  “I’ll forget modesty for a minute and just be blunt. I was always better than Johan at almost everything we ever did. Growing up as boys, I’d beat him in races, riding, any games we played, everything. I was never cruel about it, so it never strained our friendship. It was just a fact. And it was plain to almost everyone that he was the silver to my gold, as it were. But he never got discouraged. Which at first used to infuriate me to no end, but eventually, I came to admire that. Now, that said, he’s got…” Ryker paused, toeing the dirt with his boot. “He’s got this…this way about him. I can’t explain it easily. He’s just a likeable guy, you know? That’s not to say I’m not, which sounds vain I know, but what he has goes beyond that. He inspires people without trying. He pushes himself and others in that silent way that makes people proud. And that’s something I’ve never had.” Ryker paused again. Leonid passed him the jug, and this time Ryker took a sip. It was much stronger than he had anticipated. He handed the jug back.

  “Thanks. Now, Johan’s father once told us that there are two kinds of people in the world. Those with the ambition and courage to act, and those who let themselves be acted upon. I always believed him. Still do, to be honest. And while I was always better than Johan at everything, I don’t think I would have done much with my abilities on my own. I think I would have been content to work at my father’s stable, inherit it, and stay put. My vision usually didn’t go farther than the nearest girl’s skirt. I think I would have been one of the acted upons. But Joh, he kept talking about having a duty, and serving others, that sort of nonsense. He has ambition. Not for personal gain I don’t think, but some high-minded moral ideal. He acts. And while I know he was just speaking for himself, it did have an effect on me. It kind of adjusted my frame of mind, I guess.” His eyes grew distant, as if he was looking through the fire to some other time. “There have been times when he has me seeing the world the way he does. Small glimpses when I totally buy into what he says. It’s a good way to be.” His eyes refocused. “And then there are other times I want to hit him in the back of the head to readjust his worldview, it can be so simple. And I can’t do that. The whole inspiration thing. It didn’t seem like such a big deal in the Legion. There life was so organized that we were little more than golems ourselves. Inspiration wasn’t needed, only obedience. But being an Outrider is different. It’s just the five of us, and if we start to doubt each other, we fall apart. So that’s your answer. I could have led, but he can do more than just lead, and I know it. So I will protect him. And I don’t resent him for it at all.” Ryker sat up straight and smiled a bit, still staring into the fire. “Besides, command has much more responsibilities. I just have to look good and reap the glory. Let him deal with authority.”