by Randi Darren
“Yeah. Portland and Washington. All part of the west, but separate kingdoms. I guess you could call the whole thing an empire, then,” Vince said.
“Mother used to tell me stories of Orc clans that had problems with infighting. One warrior would fight the other for a wife, only to lose a different one to someone else. Could this be the same? Two kingdoms fighting without soldiers?” Meliae leaned her staff against her shoulder and turned her head, staring at the map.
“Very possible. Rangers don’t get involved in internal affairs, but we’d have to prove it was an internal affair first. Which would probably put us directly in harm’s way and make us the enemy of one kingdom of the other. I mean, who really wants to get their covert operations called out on the mat? Might also explain the Ranger disappearances and failed missions.”
Vince frowned and rubbed his fingertips against his chin.
A long, pale finger pointed at the most recent attack site. Vince followed it up to find the unarmored Petra leaning over the map.
In direct sunlight, unarmored, and holding herself the way she did, he’d never figure her for a Waster.
She had an athlete’s figure with just a hint of curve to her. Her hips were wider and her chest fuller than Fes’s.
Her face had a definite cute quality to it, especially when she smiled. You could almost mistake her for a normal human.
Well, from the nether regions up, at least.
Below her private parts and beyond, her skin became dark, segmented, and firm. It was still warm flesh, soft, supple to the touch, but hard underneath. Hard like rock.
Her legs were only a touch thinner than a human’s, though twice as long. Her ant abdomen came out behind her by only a few feet.
Her armor and weapons were self-made. Much to his chagrin, they were things she’d made from the carcasses of fallen ant soldiers, probably.
Vince didn’t know it for certain, but he got the impression she had been among the fighting elite of her race. There was no distinction in job duties from males and females in ant colonies.
Only that there was a queen at the top.
Looking at her species differently, she had an almost Centaur look to her. Except the fact that her lady bits were human rather than a horse’s.
Centaurs are strange like that.
He hadn’t realized any of this about Petra until he’d woken up and found her splayed out on the grass, completely nude, inadvertently giving him an easy view of her genitalia.
Then again, the night previous had been mildly embarrassing for him. Smarting from her loss to Petra, Fes had claimed him roughly and mounted him in front of the ant soldier.
The ant soldier had watched before asking Meliae a question that he couldn’t make out. After that, she seemed uninterested in the situation.
Petra was staring at him, her blue eyes flat, questioning.
Giving himself a small shake, Vince held up his hands.
“I apologize, I missed the question. One more time, please?” Vince pleaded, hoping no one had noticed his lapse in attention. The Dryad had. Meliae was looking at him with a tiny smile. Thankfully, Fes seemed wholly into the map and was glaring as if intimidation would make it give up its secrets.
“If this is a military organization, then this one would argue that they should have a staging area. Perhaps somewhere in the middle of this line of attacks. Sloppy to make such an easily distinguishable pattern, though,” Petra said smoothly, her finger tracing the line of attacks.
Looking at it with that frame of mind, Vince looked towards the center area. There, near the center of it all, was an uninhabited area that was nothing more than trees and rocks.
So boring and ordinary that it probably got a handful of visitors every decade.
That being the case, Vince realized he’d have to investigate it, even if it was only in passing to the most recent attack site.
Pressing a finger to that spot, he looked around at his party. “This’d be the place if that theory holds up. Or around here. I think we’d be best served to at least canvass the area. Even if we’re just passing through. We can make this trip today and still have time to make camp if nothing is there. I say we go for it. Now, even.”
Meliae made a delicate frown, one finger pressing to her lower lip. “When we get closer, I’ll speak with the trees. Most aren’t willing to talk with me, but there’s usually one that’s chatty in every group.”
Fes only grunted, turning her head away from the map and moving back to her mount.
Petra looked at him with a raised blonde eyebrow. “The plan is a good one. This one would ask why you require an opinion?”
“Because while this isn’t a democracy, I do value your thoughts,” Vince admitted, pulling the map free of the grass and shaking out the rocks. “No one rules alone. To believe so is to set yourself up for failure.”
“The queen ruled alone,” Petra defiantly said.
“And what happened when she died? Is there a nest left over? Did they even try to resist after that? To rebuild? To try again?” Vince asked, folding the map up.
“No. No, they… we… this one did not. This one will think on your words.”
“I.”
“What?”
“I will think on your words. Not this one. You are yourself, you’re not an ant drone, soldier, whatever,” Vince said, gesturing at her. Folding the map a final time, he slipped it into a saddlebag.
“This one… I… will think on your words,” Petra said. Her legs straightened, and her head rose up to six feet.
Can you ride an ant soldier?
Vince’s thoughts came out from under him as his eyes studied her abdomen. Between her ant rear end and human torso was a small stretch of what he would call her “waist.” It’d probably require a custom saddle, but it might be possible to outfit her like that.
Petra was strapping on her armor and speaking to Meliae, and had not noticed his gaze, for which he was thankful.
His hearing caught on their conversation at the use of his name. His enhanced hearing could be dialed up or down at his need if he wasn’t distracted.
It’d taken him time to get used to it—there were many noises in the night, after all—but it was worth it.
Checking a strap underneath his mount, Vince focused on their conversation.
Eavesdropping is only rude if you’re caught or admit it.
“—ot a queen. Fes is his first wife,” Meliae said in a whisper to the ant woman.
“You hold his scent. As recently as a day old, perhaps,” Petra said.
Vince hid his momentary embarrassment by climbing onto his horse.
Apparently, Petra could tell that he’d been with the Dryad before they’d set out.
“Yes. I’m his second wife, remember?”
“Second.”
The women grew silent as they set on their way.
Vince settled in as the rear guard while Fes led the way. Petra and Meliae took up the middle. Petra, of course, was her own mount.
“Uh-huh, second. Fes believes it’s her duty as his first wife to find more wives for him. Wives that will make him stronger. Women with talent or strength.”
“Duty. This one understands duty. Is this one the third wife?”
Vince blinked at that.
Sex with an Orc is weird enough; how would one even go about that with an ant?
“No. If I had to guess the intentions of my silly tree, I’d say he didn’t want to kill you and offered you the only other choice he could. He’s quick to kill if he must, but slow to do so if he doesn’t have to.”
“This one would know more of this situation.”
Vince decided that was enough for him and tuned the conversation out, focusing on the job he had to do as the tail end.
Getting ambushed now due to his lack of attention sounded pretty damn awful.
Meliae turned her head to Vince, her hand resting on a tree. “They’re here. They move during the night and not during the day. They head strai
ght north from here. Somewhere between ten and twenty. Trees don’t count very well, but he shared his memories with me. They were jumbled, but I made some sense of it.”
Vince opened his mouth to ask a question and stopped, watching Meliae.
The Dryad pressed a hand to her temple, taking in a breath. After a few seconds, she dropped her hand and gave her head a shake. “Sorry. Trees in human territory, that is, outside the Wastes, are… invariably loud or almost too quiet.”
“Quite alright, take your time. Did you get an idea about what kind of weaponry they’re carrying? Or what kind of armor they wear?” Vince asked.
“Swords, daggers, a couple of short bows. I think. Hard to tell, as they passed this way only during the night. Their armor was dark as well.” The Dryad seemed far more weary than she was letting on. Or so Vince believed.
“Thanks, Meliae. Alright. I’d like to get closer and see if we can figure this out. If we can determine it’s political without engaging, and slip out with proof, our job is done and will be paid out by the Ranger guild. Questions?”
Vince looked to Fes, who shook her head. She’d been quiet today. Vince wasn’t going to pry at her about it, either. She’d talk to him about whatever was bothering her when she was ready.
Looking to Meliae, she also shook her head.
Next was Petra, whose head was once again covered by her helmet.
“This one would know what you wish of her, Master.”
Vince took that as acceptance to his question.
“Protect Meliae and keep her in the rear. Stay something like… fifty feet off. She’s our ace in the hole,” Vince asked. Turning to Fes, he gave a slight inclination of his head towards the direction Meliae had indicated.
Out ahead of them was an open expanse of field, barren of trees and cover. Whoever had picked their location had done so with a mind for tactics.
To his eyes, it looked like a fairly solid wall of vegetation that’d hide whoever was in there while providing an easy view of the surrounding area.
Fes nodded and fell in behind Vince. Hunching his shoulders, he kept himself low and slunk along.
He didn’t think they’d be able to make it in without being spotted, but he’d still make the attempt. After all, it was late afternoon and the sun was pitched fairly low in the west. They’d be fairly well highlighted to anyone curious enough to look south.
As if his thoughts had reached out and alerted their quarry, a shout came up to the north of them.
Seconds after that, bodies came boiling out of the trees and brush. Vince unsheathed his sword as he counted six charging them.
They were armed exactly as Meliae had warned they would be. Unfortunately, they were also very clearly military trained.
The six spread out to encircle them, slowing down from the run they’d started out at into a fast walk. Before they could settle in, he’d have to act. Beside him, he could practically feel Fes coming to the same realization.
Vince hissed between his teeth and then leapt forward with all the speed he could muster.
His saber snapped forward, the tip whistling through the air and cleaving through an unprotected wrist. Not letting the blow slow him, Vince took a half step to the right with his left foot while pulling his sword back.
He sprang forward again, his sword extending and skewering the second man in the lower abdomen.
Jerking his blade free as he passed the man who was crumpling in on himself, Vince spun on his heel.
Fes had chopped a third man nearly in half and ended up a few feet off to his left.
Before he could begin to celebrate the evening of the odds, Vince heard the crunch and clatter of more people coming from the camp.
They’d underestimated Vince and Fes and only sent some of their number. They’d paid a price for that, and Vince didn’t doubt that now they were all coming.
Vince saw Petra’s approach a fleeting moment before she arrived.
Petra’s long, strange sword swept across in a horizontal blur. That one swipe took the lives of two men who had gotten close to one another. One lost their head while the other had the top half of their skull removed. The two dead bodies fell to the ground with a thump as their limbs spasmed.
Fes roared and leapt at the last man, her blade snapping a hastily raised broadsword in half. The weight of the attack drove the man to his knees as her weapon carved down through his shoulder and into his midsection.
Cruelly shoving a booted foot into his chest, Fes kicked him off the length of her sword.
Vince looked to the oncoming enemies. A quick count gave him eight combatants rapidly approaching. They were all wearing headdresses that covered their faces.
Eight of them, against three.
Meliae stepped up behind him, her staff held out at her side.
Four, I guess.
Vince felt his mouth turn into a thin line.
“Don’t be angry. I can’t sit back and watch you go into battle alone. A Dryad is supposed to protect her tree. Not hide in it.”
“Stay beside me, then. Use the reach on your staff to keep people away. Look for openings, don’t actually engage unless there’s no other choice,” Vince muttered.
Well, three and a half against eight.
Their foes were starting to slow on their approach. They seemed confused and angry at the same time.
Then Petra darted forward, her multi-jointed legs propelling her faster than he’d expected. Fes chased after her, yelling as she sprinted along. The two of them plowed into the six on the right and scattered them.
Vince moved forward to immediately engage the two who were turning to join their comrades. With a flick and twist of his wrist, his saber snapped out, slicing along the foe’s shoulder and into their jaw with a crunch.
Turning his attention to the second, he had a moment to register the fact that they were leveling a revolver at him. Turning to the side to limit his profile, he did the only other thing he could think of. Fingering a throwing knife as he moved, he spun it off from his side with a flick of his wrist. His aim felt true and he watched as it flew towards the man’s shoulder.
Spinning end over end, it sped onward towards the target. Then Vince lost sight of the blade as it passed the gun. Then it went off.
The boom of the pistol filled his ears and Vince tried to force himself forward to engage before they could fire another round.
The cylinder started to rotate as they began pulling the trigger again.
Green leaves and vines whipped up from the foliage at their feet. A mass of plant matter wrapped up around the cocked hammer and dragged the barrel towards the ground.
A sapling bent to the side and tilted towards Vince’s attacker, then sprung outward. The tip of the small tree exploded as the green wood smashed through their unprotected throat.
Gurgling, the attacker dropped the gun and pressed their hands to their ravaged neck. Blood flowed over their gloves like a plastic bag with a slit in it.
Vince was stunned, his mind struggling to keep up with the situation.
He knew magic existed, had even seen a bit of it here and there. But not magic that could directly affect a fight.
From a Dryad, no less.
Only truly powerful Dryads could control nature like what had just happened.
Thoughts for later, fool. The fight goes on.
Returning his attention to the second person, Vince found them on their knees, a hand pressed to their shoulder. Apparently he’d struck truer than he’d originally believed.
Looking to Petra and Fes, he found the two finishing off the last attacker between them. Petra jabbed in a quick attack, forcing the man back a step. It gave Fes an opportunity to bring her big sword around in a slash that just about bisected the bastard in the middle.
Both Petra and Fes’s eyes jumped over to him.
“Clear,” Vince called out to them.
“Clear,” Fes responded. Grunting, she leaned down and drew her blade across a corpse.
“Finish them off, don’t leave them to suffer,” Vince said, indicating the bodies at their feet. Getting cut in half wasn’t always an immediate death, and the gasping agonal breaths he could hear only reinforced that.
Dying wasn’t like the way stories described it. It could be swifter than a thought, and slow as ice in equal measure.
Looking to his own duty, he pushed his saber into the chest of the man with the missing throat.
There was no resistance as his blade slid into the spot the man’s heart should be. Withdrawing his saber, Vince turned to the one with the shoulder wound.
“Wait, wait, I’m working for the kin—”
The statement ended as Vince shoved the tip of his sword into the man’s chest and pushed straight into the heart. With a small twist, he made sure to dice the organ completely, giving the man only a few seconds to wait for his end.
“Why?” Meliae asked quietly from beside him.
“Because if I had heard him, we’d all be in an ugly situation between kingdoms. I’d be forced to give him aid, transfer him to the guild, and then sit idly by as two kingdoms probably went to war,” Vince explained, his voice soft.
Wiping his blade on the now dead man, he sighed.
“There’s always the possibility they’d try to claim you as repayment for their losses as well. I doubt it’d be upheld, but you three would end up in a ‘warehouse’ of sorts until this was finalized. Call me selfish, but I’d rather not let that happen. It’ll be bad enough when I report what my suspicions are without proof.”
Taking a few steps back to the other corpse, Vince rooted around in the ground till he found the revolver.
Squatting down, he eyed the piece with a frown.
“Is that a gun?” Fes asked. She’d come up behind him while he was looking for it. “Never seen one. Was loud.”
“That it is. Expensive, to say the least. Ammunition isn’t a readily available commodity. Especially for civilians. Or a bandit.” Vince sighed and picked up the weapon. It was a double-action revolver. “One could argue ammo itself is a form of currency. Especially for something like this, which has specific needs. Very specific needs. We’ll sell it to the guild. I already have a few at the house, but ammo is so expensive that… it’s just not worth carrying around.”
