Dark Path: Book Three of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  Over the years the liche had entered into numerous temporary pacts and treaties with various dark forces (including Arbmante) in order to facilitate both its acquisition of things necromantic, and to further its unfathomable objectives; in each case the White Necromancer had stayed within both the rule and the spirit of the agreement, fulfilling its end as bargained. Of interest to the Dark Threll was the extensive network of agents the liche had established throughout the known world; although the network was employed only in locating necromantic items and in what appeared to be pointless quests, it had been used (when the necromancer was carrying out conditions of pacts or treaties) quite successfully as an reliable intelligence gathering apparatus. A treaty with the liche, therefore, would be of considerable gain to the Pargaie, and was the key to Kustar’s plan.

  The transition to liche from human was covered in some detail in the files; Kustar learned that it was a process wherein a practitioner of necromancy turned a living creature (normally itself) into a undying being by means of a lasting web of potent, if dark, spells. The liche, after its transformation, appears unchanged, although it need not eat, drink, or even breathe, and cannot be killed by ordinary means. The body will continue to deteriorate over time, the rate depending upon the skill and strength of the transformation spells, crumbling away as if afflicted by dry rot. The life-force (including the intelligence and powers that survived the transformation) remained largely intact, however, unaffected by the body’s reduction in capacity until the very last. In the past powerful liches had retained their abilities even when their physical self had degenerated into an immobile skull.

  It was not clear as to how much of the White Necromancer’s physical being remained, how much of a toll time had taken on the liche’s powers or, more importantly, sanity. From the first contacts the White Necromancer had cloaked its physical body in concealing clothing, and wrapped itself in spells that precluded scrying. What was known was that it had been centuries since the liche had left Tiria, and at least twelve decades since it last conversed with any outsider in person, choosing since to remain behind a screen. The accepted assumptions were that the liche was reduced to immobile bone, and that, although still powerful, its abilities were beginning to fade.

  Of its lair the file had considerable information: Tiria had been a major city on the huge inlet now known as Darktower Bay, a mighty port and capitol in the days before the Sundering and the Wars of the Gods. Tiria now was just ruins on the coast of the Northern Wastes, thoroughly looted of every portable valuable by generations of Orcs and Goblins, serving as an occasional Orc capitol or pirate base as the years rolled by. The White Necromancer had taken control of what was left, and had made only those improvements as were demanded by its forces and purposes. Kustar obtained a copy of the latest map of the city and made extensive notes on the descriptions provided by every member of Arbmante who had entered the ruins (and returned), as well as interviews with everyone else who had entered the place and had been willing (or competently forced) to talk to Pargaie operatives.

  The liche’s minions and guard force, except in those rare instances when Orc mercenaries augmented the latter, were almost entirely Undead, some having served for centuries. The White Necromancer did not, it was believed, maintain a large staff at its base; Pargaie estimates put the totals at perhaps fifteen personal staff (many of whom were lechtor, or lesser-liches, transformed by the White Necromancer to preserve their skills), a dozen or so servants, and a garrison of about a hundred. Of course, it was inherent to the liche’s area of expertise to raise a larger force at very short notice. The garrison itself was made up of Undead warriors, as to be expected, either animated skeletons or the vastly more dangerous skeletal warriors known as Dayar.

  Kustar found it interesting that the White Necromancer had no dealings with the Anointed of the Night King; apparently the liche had no fondness for vampires. She wondered if there could be a clue to the liche’s motivations in that, and if any investigations had been conducted along those lines. Someday, she promised herself, she would be in a position to inquire.

  The file had no mention of the Phantom Badgers, an omission she found to be appalling; the mercenary files (which was compiled by a different section of Pargaie) had carefully detailed the company’s troubles with the liche, but the file on the necromancer made no comment on it. From her reading she knew that by chance or ill-luck the mercenaries had encountered, and subsequently defeated, two of the liche’s minor endeavors, and on a third had refused an ultimatum to hand over an item they had captured, instead giving it to a temple of one of the Eight where it was destroyed. The mercenary document had made it clear that the White Necromancer had targeted the Badgers for destruction, although at what level of priority was unknown. For a moment Kustar pondered the odds which had led the Badgers to have crossed the plots of the White Necromancer not once, but three times, and shook her head. It smacked of manipulation, although by whom she could not even guess.

  The file contained copies of the last two pacts between Arbmante and the liche; she copied both out in their entirety. One exchanged a quantity of andern (to the necromancer) in return for specific data on the activities of a Navian merchant company for twelve months. The other, which she felt suited her purposes better, had involved giving the liche several items of arcane usage in return for six month’s surveillance (by the liche’s minions) on Dark Star movements in a specific area. Just as importantly, the file contained the protocol used to safely make contact with the liche’s servitors.

  The research took the better part of four days; with it completed she proceeded to the next step of her operation, actually a double step: determine what she should ask of the liche in return for the information that she possessed, and how she was going to get to Tiria without wearing out a saddle, and for this she would have to break routine and go to the Pargaie archives where classified data was stored. Her atingo would gain her access and the security surrounding the place would ensure that the competition would not know what she was looking at. Kustar was confident that this break in routine would surrender nothing to the watchers.

  It took two days of digging through the musty stacks before she learned all that she needed to know, hampered by the necessity of doing the searching herself rather than using a clerk who might be induced to talk by one of her peers, but she prevailed. As to what she could negotiate for, Pargaie command was concerned about the dearth of current intelligence regarding the inhabitants of the lands adjoining Darktower Bay. Doubtlessly, it was well within the liche’s resources to compile a comprehensive survey of groups established there, and dossiers on personalities of note

  As to how to get to Tiria, Kustar knew that Alantarn maintained a number of Gates connecting the fortress to far-flung Pargaie field stations. She located the second-closest (to hide her actual destination), and devoted several hours to the study of the station and its environs. The station, called Fort Margrave by the staff for unknown reasons, was positioned in the extreme northern edge of the Northern Wastes, just short of where the tundra began, housed in what appeared to be an independent Orc fort. The garrison was all Orcish Thanes who bought furs and sold steel weapons to the Orcs and Goblins in the area; the handful of Nepas officers stayed out of sight. The fort’s primary purpose was to be the clearing house for all Pargaie assets in that third of the Northern Wastes, and as such had both magical means of communication with Alantarn, and a Gate connection.

  It took most of the day, but eventually she had a listing of persons, both slaves and outsiders, who had some dealings, ties, or origins with the northwest section of the Northern Wastes. Taking these names and their general locations or occupations in or around the fortress, Kustar wove them into a conspiracy of prepositioned slaves and visiting merchants, the whole arranged by the Dark Star, a power cult which had achieved nation status in that same portion of the world, and who, interestingly, controlled a functioning anverax

  It took the better part of four days to flesh out
this premise into something that looked as if it could work (provided the reader did not exhaustively verify the ‘facts’ listed in the report). This report would provide Kustar with an excuse to go to that corner of the world and snoop around. Fort Margrave was six day’s hard ride from Tiria, and should she bring back success no one would question her; fail, and she could write off the expedition as a failed lead.

  Finished, she leaned back and massaged her fingers; a neatly inscribed work-draft of her ‘investigation’ into the Dark Star aspect lay before her on her desk. Of course, there was no investigation log to support it, but it was unlikely that there would be that many questions asked. Now all that remained was her regular progress report, due in three days, which she would deliver in person as she made the request for access to the Gate, and the careful repayment of her obligation to the Anlarc. The latter would have to be handled very carefully as the Temple warrior’s agenda was vastly different from hers, and if she wasn’t careful her whole plan would be ruined by hasty action by the twisted Champion. Frowning, she gave the matter careful thought.

  The skull-faced helm’s blank, lifeless stare unnerved her almost as much as the Anlarc’s twisted, whispery voice, but the veteran intelligence officer never let it show. She was meeting the Temple officer in a sparsely furnished room in an old barracks used on occasion by Temple troops when the regular facilities were overcrowded.

  “I have the name and location of the force that you fought,” Kustar cut straight to the point, Agyra being completely uninterested in social banter or polite conversation. “And I will give you this information, but I must ask you for several concessions in return.”

  The helm gave a jerky nod.

  “First, I must ask you not to leave Alantarn for eight days after my departure, as this is vital to my investigation and the secrecy of our pact; I can assure you that no one else will learn of the identity of this group before then.” Another nod. “Next, as I assume you will seek out this group to destroy them, I need you to depart with your destination and mission a secret, as it will be some time before I will be in position to submit my final report.” A third nod. “I need a Rod of Obstruction or the services of your wizard to prevent anyone from using a Seer upon my offices or quarters while I am out of Alantarn on a mission of research.”

  “I will provide such a Rod.”

  “Lastly, if this is not too much of an imposition to you, I would like to borrow the services of your wizard for a week or two. I will be leaving Alantarn as I mentioned, and travelling in dangerous territory. If you can spare him, he will travel in the guise of my chief clerk, whom he resembles somewhat. I would need for you to imprison this clerk in secrecy while I am gone; when I return, the clerk will be disposed of via poison, made to look like an accident.”

  “I need no sorcery; you may use the spellcaster.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be leaving within four days, and will need the wizard and Rod by then; I’ll bring the clerk to you. Here is a map and some background information; the group you seek is a mercenary company known as the Phantom Badgers, they make their home in a former Dwarven outpost known as Oramere; it is on the map.”

  The Anlarc took the documents in one armored hand. “In a week past your departure, then, I will depart.”

  Kustar hesitated; sometime in the twisted temple warrior’s tone of voice hinted at amusement, or smugness that she suspected was aimed at her, not at the Badgers. “Yes, just so: in one week.” Dismissing her concerns, she took her leave of her weird ally; after all, she would be back in Alantarn within a week of his departure, and there was no way the Anlarc could reach Oramere in that time.

  Kustar waited impassively in the austere outer office, ignoring the senior clerk scribbling at her desk and the comings and goings of runners and under-clerks from the side door. Choralon Miara was the liaison officer for the investigators, the one to whom all reports were made. Although she was only one grade in rank above Kustar, the liaison officer was a full-blooded Direthrell, and a member of the Hold Master’s personal staff, brought with him from Arbmante after the death of his predecessor in the very raid Kustar was investigating.

  While she waited, Kustar pondered the difference in the two Hold-commanders she had served under. Clarevia Dak-Hella had come to the fortress as a young, ambitious staff officer, achieved the supreme rank through deft politics, and had then refused promotion after promotion in order to remain in command of the ever-growing fortress. She had commanded here for over twelve decades, completely trusted by the rulers in Arbmante.

  Peria, who so seldom used his last names that Kuster still wasn’t sure what they were, was a former Pargaie officer who had switched over to the military, eventually becoming Arbmante’s trouble-shooter and fire brigade commander, the veteran they called for in times of crisis. He had been sent via Gate to Alantarn on the heels of the first raid, when the fortress had been leaderless and reeling in shock. He had arrived with a small personal staff and a few dozen bodyguards, and immediately put things to rights, bringing the battered fortress under control in the space of hours. He had elected to stay, and the lords of Arbmante had been willing to grant his wish as tribute to a long and illustrious career.

  Clarevia had been a sensualist; her court had been opulent, her retinue both large and well-staffed with pretty women and charming men, and the entire business of the fortress and its various subordinate forces was conducted with a relaxed atmosphere. Although the fortress was the hub for Pargaie assets in the west, the hold-commander was not in direct control of them; nevertheless, the commander of Alantarn could, and did, exercise considerable influence over their general direction of operations. Clarevia pressured the intelligence community into conducting a bitter war of raid and assassination against the Lanthrell in the Human realms; the spectacles that the Hold Mistress so adored frequently featured Forest Threll captives, and Threll of the Light were often given as slaves to favored underlings.

  Peria, on the other hand, was cold, hard, and of even disposition; he lived simply and shunned adornment, and demanded both seriousness and high levels of efficiency from his subordinates. He had brought a small staff with him when he arrived to restore order; when he had decided to remain, he had summoned some sixty or so additional officers to Alantarn to serve on his staff; those of Clarevia’s followers who had survived both raids and the slave uprising were transferred back to Arbmante. Interestingly, nearly all of those transferred went back with their careers intact, a somewhat unusual outcome in the course of the normally venomous Direthrell politics, and a move which won Peria a large measure of respect and even loyalty in the garrison that remained.

  Under the new Hold Master Alantarn was a simpler place, with the slave population reduced by half, and a much higher emphasis placed on internal and external security. Clarevia’s war with the Lanthrell died with her; Peria showed no interest in what he considered an unwinnable fight. Kustar wasn’t sure what direction Peria was trying to push the Pargaie apparatus towards (secrecy being another mania with the Hold Master) but it would seem to be set in conventional intelligence lines, rather than in the prosecution of a low-intensity war.

  Interestingly, Peria’s staff was barely a third of the size of Clarevia’s, although it kept far more of the fortress under its thumb than she had. The new Hold-Master was fond of streamlining operations and clear lines of responsibility, concise orders, and careful preparation. Kustar hoped that the ultimate outcome of her operation would result in assignment to Peria’s staff; in such a professional atmosphere she knew that she could accomplish much.

  “The Choralon will see you now, Curor,” the chief clerk announced, breaking into Kustar’s thoughts. She didn’t like the way the beefy Human Thane shaded the verbal salute, nor that the clerk had used the form reserved for close or immediate superiors, but wisely held her tongue. The woman was not the usual civilian clerk, but actually held the military rank of Dorapel, and wore enough scars to indicate that it had been earned. She had heard that Peria
had been bringing in a steady trickle of veterans from his previous commands to serve in the support ranks of his staff and the garrison, the latter having plenty of openings due to the two bloody raids, and this clerk would seem to be proof of that rumor.

  Choralon Miara was short for a Direthrell, being not much taller than a Human woman, although just as gracefully built as any of her race. She was a bit plain-featured, which was accented by her close-cropped hair and straightforward manner. She wore no decoration or jewelry save rank and assignment insignia, and seemed to always be armed, a common trait amongst Peria’s followers. Kustar had met with her on a couple occasions, and found her to be a bit unnerving to deal with; nothing seemed to crack the woman’s stiff reserve. Kustar had tried to flirt, only to be coolly rebuffed, and her spies told her that one of her competitors, a handsome male, had received similar short shift. Under Clarevia the situation would have been vastly different; influence through physical pleasure or quiet bribery was the norm, and the whole business of government was much easier.