The group that assembled in the Duke’s private meeting chamber was a lot larger then the last. Besides the Duke, Thalberg, Misha and George there was Andre and three others Misha didn’t recognize. They were gathered around a large table upon which were placed many maps.
“We are here to plan the retaking of the outpost,” Thomas said to the assembled group.
Thomas pointed a hoof-like hand at George. “This is George, the new head of Scouts.” He then pointed to Misha. “And this is Misha whose reputation for killing and scouting is well known.”
The stallion pointed to a short woman dressed in chainmail armor. Over the armor was a tabard of blue on which was stitched a gold javelin. On both cuffs was the same emblem: two crossed swords on a shield above which was a crown, all done in gold. Her blonde hair was cut short and braided with gold wire. “This is Lynette Miller leader of the 4th light infantry regiment.”
Thomas pointed to a lion and lioness morph standing opposite George and Misha. The male was wearing a tunic and pants colored a dark red with gray trim. On his cuffs was the same emblem as on Lynette’s two crossed swords on a shield above which was a crown also in gold. The female had on a dress that fell all the way to the floor which was colored the same as the lion’s clothing. Both had the emblem of a rampant griffon on their chest in silver. The emblem on her cuffs was the same as the male but in silver.
“This is Anwell and Leena Blanford. Commander and second in command of the 5th light infantry regiment,” the Duke explained.
George nodded to all three of the new arrivals. “Good to meet you.”
Misha unraveled a map onto the table and weighted the four corners with various objects. “This is a plan of the old fortress,” the fox explained, “as it was before Nasoj destroyed the place during Three Gates. We’ve updated it with what we have discovered during our scouting of the place along with what the survivors of the siege remember.”
“The fortress is rectangular in shape with towers at each corner and the remains of a keep in the northwest corner,” George explained. “The curtain wall is in pretty good shape but is demolished in some places and won’t be too difficult to get past. There were many gates but only two are left.” He tapped the map in two places with his hand. “All the others were filled in long ago.”
“The inside is over four acres and is filled with tumbled down rocks and stone walls, most not more than waist high.” Misha added. “Plenty of places for someone to hide. The Keep is certain to be well defended.”
“What’s the Keep like?” the lioness asked. “I’m not going to lose people assaulting a keep.”
George nodded. “It’s mostly ruined but it’s bound to be well defended. I have people who will be clearing the tower before your people attack.”
Misha laughed. “He means me and some of my friends. Don’t worry whatever’s in there we’ll kill and we’ll try to be quiet about it.”
“You can’t take a place that big with a group that small,” George commented. “I’ll give you a file of troops to help.”
“George I don’t need them,” the fox said.
“Yes you do,” George countered. “These aren’t the Ghosts – yet.”
Misha just nodded in response. “Yes sir. Can I have two files?” he asked.
“Not my scouts. I don’t have enough.”
“I need axe and sword people, George. Two files of regulars are fine as long as they’re quiet. Once we get past the door it will all be tooth and claw fighting with little subtlety.”
George nodded. “All right but I get one back when the keep is taken. I need the reserves.”
“Yes sir,” the fox answered.
Thomas was amazed by the interaction with Misha. He couldn’t even get the axe-wielding fox to tell someone where he was going and yet he accepted George’s orders without question. Misha had very little respect for anyone of noble birth and he showed the Duke only a small, grudging respect. Yet he fully trusted and respected this worn out old peasant turned bandit. It spoke volumes of the deep trust between the two.
George nodded his head. “The tower is not the big problem. The big problem is that the entire underside of the castle seems to be riddled with tunnels and there are entrances all over.”
“One was large enough to fit a wagon,” Misha added.
“How do we clear those?” Lynette asked. “We cannot crawl through them all. And I doubt we’ll be able to find all of the holes.”
“Smoke,” George answered. “We’ll build a large smoky fire in that wagon ramp and close the hatch. That should force the smoke through the tunnels and out the other exits.”
The lionman smiled showing an impressive set of teeth. “And all we need to do is look for the smoke.”
“That will show us the entrances to the tunnels but it won’t get the Lutins out of them,” the lioness countered. “We’ll need to go in after them at some point. We can’t just starve them out.”
“We could add poison to the fire and the smoke would carry it every where,” George suggested.
“Poison?” Thomas asked horrified. “All who breath it will die a painful death.”
“So?” the jackal asked in an annoyed tone. “We are trying to kill them.”
“Yes, but it’s also going to kill any Keeper who breaths it in too,” Andre commented.
“A stink pot will do it,” Misha said. “It won’t kill them but it will force them out. No one, not even a lutin can withstand that stink.”
“What is a stink pot?” The equine duke asked.
“It’s something that Misha the siege master learned to make. It’s a large clay pot filled with all sorts of nasty stuff. You fling it from a catapult or trebuchet and when it strikes something it bursts into flames and sends out an incredibly nasty stench.”
“Make several,” George ordered.
“I’ll try but I’m not sure I can get all the ingredients,” the fox morph answered.
“What will you need?” Thalberg asked. The alligator morph had been quiet until then. Waiting quietly and patiently to strike.
“The main ingredient is the carcass of a horse or a mule that’s been dead and left to rot in the sun at least three days.”
Thomas let out a soft moan. “I’d rather not hear the other ingredients.”
“Will a cow work instead?” Thalberg asked. “We lost some cattle and sheep to a sickness.”
“A cow will do,” Misha answered, as long as it’s large and dead. I’ll also need at least two hundred pounds of manure and other offal.”
“This is what we will do,” George said. “Just before dawn Misha and his people will kill the sentries near the tower and then move to the tower itself. They will then clear the tower trying to be as quiet as possible.”
“The infantry will go in next moving through the breach that Misha and his people made. All the files will have been assigned specific parts of the ruins and will move to them. First they will kill any visible sentries and then they’ll search for anything else worth killing. Any tunnel entrances will be marked and guarded. When that is done they will each send a runner to me to report,” George explained. “As for me I’ll take a file and move to the town square here,” the jackal tapped the center of the map.
“And what will your scouts do?” the lion asked.
“My scouts will spread out around the keep, especially to the north. Anything going towards or away from the castle will be spotted and killed,” the scout leader explained. “If there is a group too large for the scouts to deal with then Andre’s cavalry will run them down.”
“A simple plan,” Thomas commented.
“Simple ones are the best. Less room for mistakes and confusion.”
Misha nodded his head in agreement. “Retaking it won’t be the difficult part. Holding against Nasoj’s attempts to retake it will be the hard part.”
“The soldiers I know how to defeat. What has me nervous is what magic he will throw at us. Any mages we can get to help us?” George asked. “Any wizards with field experience?”
All he got in response was silence.
“I told you,” Misha said “No field mages here.”
The jackal muttered curses in several languages and growled deeply.
“Mages are a rare breed here,” Thomas explained. “But I believe we can find you one eventually.”
“We can take the ruins without one but to hold the place we must have a mage,” George commented. “Nasoj has too much magic at his command.”
“Agreed,” Thalberg said. “But it will take time.”
George nodded and turned back to the map. “All right. What’s next?”
Misha tapped three spots on the map. “Those are the locations of the forts three wells. They MUST be secured. We’re not sure what shape they are in but at least one of them must still be working.”
“Even Lutins need water to drink,” Leena commented.
“We’ll assign a squad to each well,” George ordered.
“We need only one at first. As long as at least one well is usable we can use that till the others are cleared,” Misha added.
“I have one last question,” George asked. He pointed to Andre, Lynette, Anwell and Leena in turn. “What are the markings on your cuffs? They look like rank but the wolverine has lances instead of swords.”
Andre tapped the insignia on his right sleeve. “That marks me as a colonel in command of a cavalry regiment. And the swords mark them as commanders of infantry regiments.”
“Swords for infantry, lances for cavalry,” George said slowly in a tone Misha recognized all too well. “What do my scouts get?”
“What do you mean?” Leena asked. “They’re infantry and they wear swords and arrows.”
“No they’re not,” George answered coldly as his ears laid back and his hackles rose. “They are scouts. Proud and independent.”
“They walk that means they’re infantry,” the lioness countered.
“Can your soldiers stalk a deer? Can your people survive in the wilderness with nothing but a bow and knife?” George countered calmly.
“They do different tasks then regular infantry,” Misha added. “That means they ARE different.”
“A bow,” Andre said interrupting the jackal. “The scouts could have the rank surrounded by a bow.”
“That decision is mine to make,” Thomas ordered. “I will decide in due time. For the moment let’s not get distracted by petty arguments. Remember what we are here to do.”
Panno knocked lightly on the door three times.
“Come in,” a muffled voice said from the other side of the door.
Panno had never been a violent person. As a child he had not dreamed of being a knight or a famous warrior. He had always wanted to be a blacksmith. As an adult he could not wield a sword or shoot a bow very well but he knew how to melt, mold and shape iron and steel in ways no knight could ever imagine.
The effects of the curse had left him in a form no one could identify. He now had a massive and heavily muscled body that looked like a bear’s. But he had the head, tail and paws of a wolf all covered with a dark brown, striped fur. It was months before a visiting scholar had produced a box full of old, brown bones with a skull like his. “An amphycon,” the scholar had explained. “The common name is Beardog.” The old man had paid him very well to simply sit in his full animal form as the scholar drew pictures and took careful measurements. Panno did not mind his new massive form as it gave him added strength and his looks alone scared away most trouble.
Opening the door he found two people seated casually around a table. The younger of the two was a red fox morph. Seated across from the fox was a tan, colored dog of some sort.
“I was asked to come here,” Panno said.
“You’re Panno the blacksmith?” the tan dog asked.
“Yes sir.”
“I’m Misha,” the fox said “and you can call me that. Never mind the sir.” He pointed to the dog. “This is George the Patrol Master and Scout Commander. Please take a seat and relax. We’re not going eat you. We just want to know what you know about the old fortress where you used to live.”
“You mean Hareford?”
Misha nodded in answer. “Yes. We’re trying to find out what the place looked like before it fell. And what happened when it was taken.”
The smith shook his head. “It was a bad night. I was lucky to escape at all. We had been under siege for over a month. Sir Bermith had thankfully ordered everyone back to Metamor just before the attack so only the soldiers and essential people like me remained.”
“What do you remember of the attack itself?” George asked.
“I remember they just didn’t stop coming. Wave after wave of them climbing the ladders and coming over the wall.”
“Were there any towers, battering rams or other siege engines?” Misha asked.
“Lots of them. They used towers and ladders to get onto the wall and catapults and battering rams to knock them down. We knocked them back again and again but they just kept coming. Finally there was just too many of them and they swarmed over the north wall.”
Panno paused for a moment and shook his head. “There was no hope of stopping them but we made them pay for the castle,” there was a fierce anger in his voice. “We fought for every tiny piece of that place.”
“How did you survive?”
“Inside the curtain wall is a large place. Lots of rooms, cellars and little places a person can hide. Once they took the castle the Lutins looted it that night but left the next day. We waited till the yelling and screaming stopped and crawled out to find the castle and town in ruins and totally deserted.”
“Where did you live in the castle?” George asked.
“We had a blacksmith shop near the town square,” Panno explained as his voice softened with pleasant memories. “My father and uncle built it themselves.”
“What was it made of?” Misha asked. “Wood or stone?”
“Brick. A blacksmith made of wood has the constant danger of burning down.”
“What were the other building around it made from?” the fox asked as he scribbled notes onto a piece of parchment.
“Varied. Some were wood, others were half timber with plaster fillings but a lot were brick. I remember town hall itself was of stone. Really old stone.”
“Probably reused Seuilman,” Misha commented.
The beardog nodded in agreement. “I remember seeing old writing carved into some of the blocks. I couldn’t read the language they were in but I did know the letters were up upside down.”
The two canines talked together in soft whispers.
“Are you going to retake Hareford?” Panno asked.
The two fell silent for a moment. “Perhaps,” George answered.
“That means yes.”
“That means perhaps. And you will keep that information to yourself,” George ordered.
“Of course. As long as I can come along.”
“Why?” Misha asked.
“Because Hareford was my home and I want it back,” Panno said with a determination and anger that surprised him.
George nodded. “I like you Panno. Keep quiet about all this and we’ll let you get involved.”
Misha heard the group long before they came into sight. The group of six was cheering and boasting as they paraded through the halls of the Keep. In the lead was a young woman whose beautiful face was marred by a long jagged scar. In her right hand was a long spear. “We got them ALL!” she announced loudly to Misha and held up her left hand which held four lutin heads by their hair. “We brought you a present.” She said cheerfully. “We couldn’t bring the rest along so we just took their ears.”
The fox scout nodded. “Good! How many did you get?”
“Nine!” An older man in the group answered.
“And we wounded another half dozen but they got away,” a white furred wolf morph added in a disappointed tone.
“Good enough,” Misha answered. “Report to George and then get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the Mule. Drinks are on me!”
Thomas sat calmly in a soft chair in his private apartment. Nearby sat Phil and Thalberg.
“George’s methods seem to be working,” Thalberg commented. “The number of raids in the valley has been cut by half these last two months. They haven’t attacked Mycransburg in over two weeks.”
“They tried twice,” Phil added in a satisfied tone. “And were ambushed both times.”
“The number of lutin kills has tripled,” Thomas commented. “And there hasn’t been a successful raid south of the Keep in three weeks.”
“A week sooner then George predicted,” the rabbit answered. “He has successfully cut the Lutins off from the southern half of the valley.”
“Good. That will allow us to get in a full harvest!” Thalberg added.
“What do you think for his plan to retake Hareford castle?” Thomas asked.
“Go ahead with it,” Phil answered. “We cannot let Nasoj build up any more there. We must strike now before the forces there are too powerful for us to defeat.”
“I do not like using so much of our army in one battle but we have little choice,” Thalberg commented. “We’ve already delayed this far longer then we should have.”
“Agreed,” the stallion Duke added.
“They will need a mage of some power. Both George and Misha have asked about a mage they can work with.”
“Someone we can afford to loose if this battle goes badly.” Phil commented coldly.
Thomas snorted and stomped a hoof. “I do not just throw people away.”
“I understand but we must accept the fact that any mage we send on the expedition is likely to be killed.”
Thomas nods slowly. “War uses people up and kills them. Who can we send?”
“Nestorius,” the reptile answered. “He is a mage of considerable power but knows little of the Keep’s magic itself.”
“It makes sense. Nestorius is not a native of the Keep.” Phil commented. “He had only arrived from the Sathmore Empire a few weeks after Nasoj had attacked. Afterward he has remained loyal to the Guilds in Sathmore. Still he has used his magic freely to defend the keep.”
“Can we trust him?” Thomas asked.
“Not completely. But as of late his guild has grown more distant and hostile to him,” was the rabbit’s explanation.
“They just don’t understand the threat,” Thomas said and sadly shook his head.
“But Nestorius does,” Phil said.
George looked at the formal invitation calmly. It was written on parchment edged with gold leaf. His limited command of writing left him unable to read but he recognized the words ‘meeting’ and ‘wizard in residence’.
“You’re to meet with a mage named Nestorius today at three,” Misha said examining the letter. “Pretty fancy letter. He’s the one Thalberg mentioned would be helping us retake the fortress.”
George had in his long life, met, fought for and against many mages over the years. Dealing with such people was never easy. As most were too involved with gaining and keeping power to worry about other people.
“What do you know about him?”
Misha shrugged. “A little. He came from the Sathmore Kingdoms a few months after the curse took hold. He’s a member of a group of mages called The Twilis Olboskol. It translates as the Eyes of the Earth.”
“Eyes of the Earth?” George asks. “What does that mean?”
Misha shook his head. “I’ve no clue. Probably something symbolic and silly. They are a good sized organization but they’ve never come this far north till he arrived.”
“Another fool mage I need to deal with,” George spat out.
“He’s not too bad. He’s mostly remained to himself. Besides he is the only mage we have to use.”
The room George found himself in was lavishly decorated. Expensive carpets covered the floors and fine tapestries lined the walls. George seated himself in an overstuffed chair. It was one of two such chairs in front a warm fire. Between the chairs a small table held a bottle of expensive wine and a platter of assorted treats.
The lion morph seated next to him was dressed in a long flowing robe made of blue, gold and orange. His mane had been carefully groomed, combed and curled and there was gold and silver rings woven into it. More rings dangled from his ears and decorated both hands. But for all the lavish dress George noticed that Nestorius was bare foot. His paws had no shoes or boots.
“I have heard a lot about you George,” the lion commented as he sipped a glass of wine.
“Is that good or bad?” George asked taking a drink from his own glass. The wine was chilled slightly and had the heady aroma of fresh cut flowers.
“Both,” the mage answered. “You’ve been everywhere and done everything over the years it seems.”
George shrugged. “It’s been a hard life.”
“I do agree with Misha that the Dukes scouts needed desperately to be reorganized. I’m happy to see you did a very good job.”
George nodded. “Thank you. I do have good people to work with. That’s most important.”
The lion looked at the fire for a moment and rolled the glass back and forth in his massive hands. “This plan for retaking the fortress, do you truly think it can be done?”
“Yes,” George answered flatly without hesitating or even lifting his head.
Nestorius turned and looked at George intensely. “Can you do it with little loss of life among us Keepers?”
George shrugged. “Hard to tell but I think so. But we have no choice. Either we take that place now before they are ready or later when they ARE ready. Taking the place then would be bloody. Very bloody.”
The wizard nodded slowly. “Agreed. I have examined the fortress, surreptitiously of course but I find little new magic there. At the moment I don’t believe there is a magic user of any real power there.”
“That can change quickly enough,” George commented.
“Agreed but I will know when that happens. I do have to warn you that the ruins have seen magic castings in the past. Some of quite powerful levels.”
George winced. “Not good. I have enough problems without having to worry about old magic traps or wards killing my people.”
The lion waved his hands and shook his head. “No need to worry about anything so blatant as that. I saw nothing openly dangerous. At least involving magic. Your people should be safe so long as they don’t start rooting too deeply among the ruins. “I’ll arrive as quickly as I can and do a detailed examination of the entire installation. I do need to warn you of one area that IS dangerous. There was a mage of some power who lived there. The ruins of his residence in the ward are certain to still be dangerous.”
“I’ll need to know exactly where it is so my people can avoid it. Leave disarming that place to you.”
The feline got up and walked across the room to where a large table rested. On it was a large, neatly organized pile of rolled up papers. He picked up a piece of folded paper and opened it onto the table.
George stepped up to the table as silently as ever. He leaned over and examined the paper. “This is a map of the fortress.”
“Yes as it was in 688. It is the latest map I could find,” the lion tapped a part of the map that was marked in red. “That is the mages residence. At least what is left of it.”
The jackal traced his hand along one of several blue lines that snaked across the map. “And what are these?”
“The tunnels those vile Lutins have dug. I thought a map of them could be useful.”
George nodded and wagged his tail in excitement. “Oh yes! Very helpful. Thank you. This will save us a lot of trouble.”
“It is not complete unfortunately. The fortress has a spell that covers the entire area that makes surveillance harder. It is a Suielman spell and very old and failing. I can penetrate it with a little effort but it does obscure sections,” Nestorius explained.
“It is good enough. I’ll take every bit of information I can get. Will it effect my troops?” George asked as he nibbled on a cube of smoked beef.
The lion shook his head. “No. It is strictly protection against magical surveillance. Once we have the fortress back I can reinforce the spell and keep them from observing us at all by magic.”
“Very good. I don’t like other people spying on me. You keep the mages from seeing too much and my people will kill any scouts who lurk too close,” the scout commented. “Can we expect any help from your friends to the south?” George asked and pointed to the south.
“The Twilis Olboskol?” The lion shook his head making the decorations jingle lightly. “Sadly no. I have so far failed to gain any further support from the Eyes of the Earth.”
“They’ll not give you anything,” George commented flatly, shaking his head. “That group has always been short sighted and surprisingly foolish.”
“You’ve dealt with the Twilis Olboskol?” Nestorius asked, surprised.
“Once many years ago but I’ve dealt with many groups like it. Long on power but short on the wisdom needed to use it wisely. Why did they send you here to the Keep?”
The lion nodded. “I was sent here partly to study the curse and partly to study the unusual magic of the keep itself.”
“And partly to get rid of you?” George added.
Nestorius stiffened for a moment then nodded slowly. “Let’s just say that coming here was a great improvement to my life span. I’ll live longer here.”
George gave a short bark of laughter. “I came here for similar reasons. This seems like a good place to live out my life comfortably.”
The group was gathered close around the table. Laid out carefully in front of them was a map of the ruined fortress.
“The scouts will be leaving just after dark and will sweep the route all the way to the fortress,” George explained. “The rest will follow an hour behind. We must be at the fortress before midnight.”
“As for attacking the fortress itself. The plan is simple. We will enter the fortress here on the north side,” George said and touched a part of the map. “Misha and his people will kill the sentries there. When a breach is made the files will start moving through. First areas to be cleared are those closest to the breach.”
"Misha, you and your scouts will clear the Keep." He locked eyes with the fox, intent on stressing the absolute importance of that mission. "It is vital that we take that tower. Without that tower cleared, archers inside can rain arrows on any of our troops and stop us cold.
Misha nodded. “I understand.”
“Anwell, tell me what your people are to do,” George barked.
“I’m leading my people through the breach and go to the left. We’re covering from the breach east to the wall here,” the lion tapped the map a short distance from the breach, “at the northeast tower. One file will take care of anyone within that tower and secure the wall itself.” Then he traced his finger in an arc along the north wall and stopped at a square with a red x in it. “We’ll then cover from that tower around to the blue painted brick building with two more files.”
“My people will take it from there,” Leena chimed in. “And cover the arc all the way to the wall on the other side of the breach using two files. Another file takes the wall itself and kills anyone in the tower. And meet up with Anwell’s people on the wall.”
“George nodded. “Good. When the breach is secure we’ll begin moving more troops in and extending that small perimeter till we reach the east and west walls. Then we’ll sweep the rest of the ruins. This must be done as quietly as possible. Stealth is important. At least till someone raises the alarm and then speed is more important. I am holding two files as a reserve just inside the breach. The key here is to move fast and hit them hard before they realize they’re under attack.”
“And when they do realize we’re attacking?” Anwell asked.
“We move faster! Hit them and keep hitting them until they’re all dead. No let up. Once the ruins have been swept and I’m satisfied that above ground is cleared we’ll bring up the stink pot and we’ll smoke out those underground. We must have the curtain walls secured and the perimeter cleared before night fall.”
"Do you really expect the assault to be so easy?" Leena asked.
"No," came the simple answer "It never goes easily but this is a fight we will win.”
The group standing in front of George was quiet and somber. A vast difference from their usual loud and rowdy behavior. There were over a hundred of them. Male and female, young and old, human and furry. All were fully dressed in armor and carried weapons that had been cleaned and sharpened for a fight. It was late in the afternoon and the fighting would not begin till much later that evening but it was all that they were thinking about.
“Well,” George said calmly, his voice cool and his expression calm, letting the weight of his experience settle any jittery nerves. “All of you have been on at least two patrols and a lot of you have gained some kills. You’ve all trained long and hard. We’ve gone over the maps and practiced this so many times we all know the castle by heart! Tonight we put all that to the ultimate test. You all have your orders and know what needs to be done. Tonight we take the first steps to clearing the entire valley. Tonight we take back land from Nasoj and his monsters. Good people died defending the place we are taking back. Tonight we get revenge for those deaths. Tonight WE attack THEM! Tonight we attack THEIR homes. Tonight we teach them to fear the darkness.” He drew his lips back into a silent snarl revealing his sharp teeth. “Our darkness.”
Three months of planning, scouting, training and four hours of careful and silent maneuvering through the woods led up to this moment. Misha lay flat on the ground at the edge of the woods. The fox was dressed in leather armor. Those parts of him not covered by the armor had been dyed black. The armor itself was black as was everything the fox was carrying. In front of him lay the massive ruined fortress. Between him and the ruins was a hundred feet of open ground devoid of any cover taller then his ankles. Behind him in the woods was over a hundred other keepers all dressed like he was. All were waiting patiently and quietly for him to make the first move. Laying next to Misha on his right was Craig. On his left was Finbar.
Misha was truly frightened and yet exhilarated at the same time! He was doing something dangerous but he was really making a difference in the war against Nasoj. He wasn’t just out causing random mayhem. What he was doing could really change things for the better in the valley. But also on his mind was that EVERYTHING and EVERYONE depended on him right now. If he made a mistake besides getting himself killed he could get a lot of other people killed as well.
The soft sound of feet shuffling through the grass and weeds came to him signaling the arrival of the people he needed to kill. He tried to push all the doubts out of his mind and concentrate on the task at hand. He peered into the darkness and he again thanked the curse for giving him the superior senses of a fox. What would have been almost impenetrable darkness for a human was a world of gray shadows for Misha. He could clearly see two human like gray figures slowly walking through the dark gray grass and bushes.
These two were a patrol that routinely moved through this open ground circling the fortress all night. The fox scout waited patiently till the two Lutins were almost even with him. He gently tapped both Craig and Finbar to let them know he was ready. Then he slowly stood up and hefted his axe. The time for planning and training was over.
Misha raced silently across the open ground in his hands was the massive black axe that was over five feet in length. As he moved across the broken ground his bare paws made no sound. In moments he was on the two Lutins. The axe swept and then swept back and the two Lutins fell to the ground dead. Misha didn’t spare them a second thought but raced across the open ground to cover.
Every second as he moved Misha expected a shout of alarm and a hail of arrows. But there were no shouts or arrows. Instead the looming walls of the fortress grew taller as he got closer. Resting at the foot of the wall was a jumbled mess of tumbled rock of all shapes and sizes. Misha picked a large one and dropped down behind it. He crouched there panting as quietly as possible listening to the world around him. Quiet was all he got in return. His attack had been unnoticed.
Misha waited and used all his senses to identify everything around him. His ears picked up the rustle of grass and weeds and they moved back and forth in the slight breeze. His sensitive vulpine nose took in all the scents and smells. He picked up a faint smell, the distinct scent of first one lutin then a second off to his right. Looking in that direction he spotted a particularly large pile of stones. The scout nodded his head faintly. That was where the guards were.
He moved slowly this time crouching low to the ground and placing each step carefully. Misha could not afford to be spotted now. He had to kill these two guards without any sound getting out to warn everyone else in the fortress.
The fox morph moved around the pile of stones with his axe at the ready. He caught sight of two, green skinned people crouching in a hollow. The axe swung with precision and the Lutins were cut in half before they even realized the Keeper was there.
Misha waited still and silent for a full minute alert and ready for any trouble. His ears flicked about listening for the slightest sign of trouble but all he heard was the soft sounds of the evening. From a pouch on his belt Misha produced a lantern that was barely larger then his hand. It was made entirely of iron painted black and had no openings for light to show through, instead there was a very small shutter. Inside was a small stone that had been enchanted to give off a soft blue light. He took hold of the shutter and made sure it was pointed away from the forest and back towards where Craig and Finbar were waiting. He opened the shutter once leaving it open for several seconds then closed it.
He saw two figures appear out of the tree line and move silently towards him. A moment later Craig and Finbar were kneeling next to him.
Misha examined the two dead Lutins for a moment before nodding to his friends. Then he pointed to his left and then to his two companions. The fox waved his axe for a moment and then pointed to his right. There was no need for any words. They all understood what to do. Now that they had breached the picket line they had to widen it.
Misha crouched low and made his way across the ground to where he figured more Lutins rested. The fox moved quietly, each careful placement of his paws making no sound as he headed across the grass, rocks and weeds. He had no problem picking out his path as his vulpine eyes were perfectly suited for seeing in the dark.
His ears picked out a faint shuffle ahead and to the right. Looking there he caught sight of a large boulder. Angling toward it Misha raised his axe. He raced around the large rock and saw three Lutins standing there. Without stopping he swung the axe. The only sound was the faint whisper of air as it rushed past the axes razor sharp blades.
The axe cut through two Lutins without the slightest resistance. Then it swept back and killed the third one just as easily. Three bodies fell to the ground with barely a sound.
The fox crouched down as quiet and still as the dead that surrounded him. The sharp tang smell of blood came to his nose as a warm liquid pooled around his right paw. Deftly he used the massive blade to cut an ear off of each one and tucked his grisly trophies into a pouch.
Carefully Misha stood up and shook the blood off of his paw. Then he slowly made his way back to where he had killed the first two sentries. He found Craig and Finbar waiting for him.
Misha pointed the lantern away from the ruins and back into the forest. He opened and closed the shutter slowly three times. Then he carefully placed the lantern on the ground and took the bow from his back and knocked an arrow.
Silence seemed to fill the world around him and he embraced it gladly letting the lack of noise help him. In the stillness the slightest sound would be magnified and would warn him of anything approaching.
It seemed like hours but was really only a few minutes before his sharp ears picked up the faint sounds of someone approaching from the woods. Several figures appeared out of the darkness crouched low to the ground. He recognized the lead one as George, his canine scent was distinctive. The jackal bandit crouched next to Misha as the other arrivals quietly spread out around them.
Misha leaned close to George until his nose was touching the jackal’s ear. “No problems so far,” he whispered in a barely audible tone.
George nodded. “Good,” he whispered into Misha’s ear. “You and your people take the Keep,” he ordered.
The old bandit gave a short wave behind him. A few moments later two figures appeared out of the darkness. Each was covered from head to paw in black and crouched low to the ground. Their weapons were held at the ready as they hustled to the ruins. Stretching out behind each of the two were long columns of people, each dressed like the first. George looked at the two leaders and nodded. Without a word the two columns split and went in different directions.
The jackal and the fox waited patiently as the two columns filed silently past. When ten had gone past in each group the columns shifted and went off in directions different from the first two.
After another ten had passed two familiar figures appeared. Misha nodded to Elissa and Merrow who nodded in response.
Misha slowly moved off deeper into the ruins, axe in hand. Behind him stretched two columns of people one led by Craig, the other Finbar.
The dark shadow of the keep loomed up in front of him. As Misha moved through the darkness towards the ruins he gripped the axe tightly in both hands. It was at times like this that he could feel her. The presence inside the axe was awake and talking to him, warning him of things nearby that he couldn’t smell or hear. Usually she just watched and listened but she occasionally woke up when things were interesting. It boded lots of fighting and blood. It also meant that this was an important event. Misha liked both ideas.
“The tower has many entrances.”
“I only need one.”
“The western side, the corner closest to you. The door is of good, solid oak and bound with steel. It looks rotted but the wood is strong.”
Misha changed direction and angled toward that corner.
There are five Raau Nuf,” the voice commented reverting to it’s old tongue. “In the windows above you but most are asleep,” the voice added with a tone of contempt.
The fox had to suppress a bark of laughter. “They’ll get a lot more sleep when I get to them.”
“There are three Nakhtu-aa outside the door that must be dealt with. A score more are inside. They are wide awake and alert.”
The dark shape of the ruined keep loomed higher and higher till it towered over him. Down at the level of the ground he spotted the shape of a doorway.
Off in the distance, to his right Misha heard a voice shout faintly and then suddenly cut off. The fox moved faster less concerned about silence then getting to the door quickly. From another direction came the sound of a fight – metal ringing against metal and then a loud cry that was clearly audible throughout the whole ruins.
Misha muttered a string of curses and broke into a full run hefting the axe over his head. A figured loomed up out of the darkness and the disgusting smell of a lutin assaulted his sensitive vulpine nose.
He swung the axe straight down and split the lutin from its head to its chest. Without even slowing down Misha raced past the corpse and up to the door.
Two more Lutins charged straight at Misha, one spear aimed to disembowel him and another that would bury itself in his throat. The fox dodged to one side and swept the axe backwards the blades slicing through bone and muscles with ease.
In seconds he was at the door. From behind it he heard the sounds of a bolt being thrown. He was aware of the rest of the group slowly gathering around him.
He paused for a moment then took a good stance and gripped the axe more tightly. Then he swung the massive, black axe at the middle of the door. In spite of the rotted and weathered appearance of the door there was a loud ‘thunk’ when the axe struck solid wood. There was shouting and confusion from behind the door. Misha swung again. The axe bit deeply into the door cracking and splintering the wood. Even though it was so dark he could see that there was a crack in the wood that ran all the way from top to bottom.
Behind him he saw Craig throw a javelin upward. A moment later the prairie dog’s aim was rewarded with a loud scream.
The fox swung again and this time the door exploded sending splinters of wood and metal flying in all directions.
With one good kick the rest of the door caved in. The room in front of him was filled with Lutins who were running around in confusion. Without a moments hesitation Misha rushed through the opening already swinging the axe in a tight loop in front of him.
Pandemonium reigned as his axe cut swaths through the Lutins. The blades slashed completely through a lutin and the table he was standing next to. Soon other Keepers joined him in the room. The fighting was fierce but short. In moments the Lutins were dead. But the fighting did not end. In one corner was a set of wooden stairs leading upward to an opening in the ceiling. Down through that opening came a shower of arrows, rocks and even pieces of wood. Keepers clustered around the opening and shot, launched and threw arrows, spears and javelins back up.
Getting in had been easy. Now came the hard part – taking the rest of the tower.
From a pouch on his belt he pulled a leather wrapped object. He unwrapped the leather and revealing a layer of cloth beneath it. Unwinding that he uncovered a ceramic ball large enough that it had to be held in both hands. Sticking out of the top was a short piece of rope.
Finbar chittered with delight as he lit the end of the rope on the sphere with a small piece of burning wood. The fuse sputtered for a moment then caught aflame and started burning down to the ball.
The fox waited a moment then tossed the fire upward and through the square opening leading to the second floor. Everyone stepped backward trying to get as far from the opening as possible.
Several long seconds passed and Misha could hear the fuse faintly hissing as it slowly burnt down. Then there was loud, muffled THUMP and flames shot out the hatch and through a thousand little cracks in the ceiling.
After a few moments the flames died down but smoke kept pouring from hole in the ceiling. It began to fill up the room and wafted out through the arrow slits and the open door.
“Nice!” someone commented quietly.
Misha hefted his axe and walked up to the stairs. Nothing came down at him except smoke. He took a deep breath of fresh air and rushed upward taking the steps two at a time. In moments he was on the second floor. The fox morph looked around at the tangle of burning wreckage, gore and broken bodies and broken furniture. The firebomb had done it’s work well.
A group of Keepers quickly followed Misha up the stairs and spread out around the room.
“Check for any survivors and put out the worst of the flames,” Misha ordered. He looked up at the ceiling and found an opening where stairs used to go through. The people above had removed the stairs leaving the Keepers with a ten foot leap straight up. This was an obstacle but an expected one. He walked over to the stairs downward. “Where is that ladder?” he whispered downward.
“Coming!” came the reply up through the smoke.
Dawn was breaking by the time Misha stepped out of the ruined tower. The first rays of sunlight were bathing the ruins in a golden light. He found George standing nearby under a bright red banner on a six foot tall pole giving orders. The jackal nodded to the fox but didn’t stop what he was doing.
Misha waited patiently until George turned and looked him in the face. “Yes?”
“Tower’s clear. Three wounded but no one killed,” the fox answered.
“Good,” George commented. “We’ve swept the ruins with no real problems.”
“We took them by surprise!” Misha said cheerfully.
George nodded. “Now comes the smelly part. I’ve ordered your stink pot up.”
“Wonderful. I can hardly wait to smell it.”
George gave a short bark of laughter. “It was your idea.”
“How went the fight?”
“Better than I’d hoped. Some wounded but thankfully no dead on our side. We caught them off guard. We’ve located most of the holes and I’m bringing in the fifth regiment to take over from my scouts. Things will get a lot more exciting once that pot of yours starts burning.”
It took six strong people to carry the large pot into the ruins. It was twenty minutes before it was placed to the fox’s satisfaction. The massive hatch he had spotted during their first trip here was still closed and almost invisible.
The fox examined the hatch for a long time looking for and disabling the booby traps he had found the last time. He looked for more but didn’t find any. It didn’t mean there were none present. Just that he did not find any.
Stepping to one side of the hatch he lit the fuse on the stink pot and a fire bomb as well. Then he jerked open the hatch. A flurry of arrows and spears flew out and struck the ground in front of the opening, shattering harmlessly.
He tossed the fire bomb down the hole and then rolled the massive stink pot in after it. Then he quickly slammed the hatch shut and ran as fast as his vulpine legs could carry him.
Misha was some twenty feet away when there was a muffled ‘thump’. The hatch lifted up and spewed wreckage in all directions, flaming bits of debris rained down on everyone as thick clouds of orange smoke rolled out of the hole.
A small cloud drifted past where Craig and several other morphs were standing. They instantly doubled over coughing and retching as the terrible stench overwhelmed them.
Misha backed away as fast as possible but the smoke was faster.
Misha had smelled the stench before. After all he had made this one like he had made a lot of others in the past. He knew what to expect. But that had been when he had a dull human nose. When the smell hit his sensitive vulpine nose it was worse, a thousand times worse.
The stench hit him like a punch in the nose. He staggered backward, the incredible smell making his head swim and threatening to overwhelm him. Misha shook his head in a vain attempt to rid his nose of the horrible smell. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and he fought to keep from throwing up.
“LUTINS!” Someone shouted behind him.
Misha turned towards the voices and saw a group of Lutins stumbling through the smoke and out into the daylight. All thoughts of the stench vanished along with the nausea as the fox’s hands wrapped around the hilt of his axe.
The fox let out a loud yowl. “FUN TIME!” he screamed and ran straight at the Lutins.
The worst of it had finally dispersed by the time Thomas arrived but the stench still clung faintly to the ruins, particularly in the low places. The smell assaulted the black stallion’s sensitive nose like it attacked everyone else’s. Under that horrible smell his nose detected the sharp tang of burning wood and the coppery scent of blood. The smell of blood made the Duke nervous. No prey animal liked the smell of fresh blood and Thomas had to resist the urge to whinny and back away. Even before the curse had changed him Thomas had never liked warfare. The sight and smell of death had always sickened him. He shivered and choked back the bile rising in his throat and tried to look calm and collected. Thomas was the Duke and had to act the part at all times regardless of his instincts and feelings.
Thomas looked to the top of the ruined tower and noticed the flag fluttering in the breeze. It was a black flag with a red rearing horse on it. It was the flag of the House Hassan, Duke of Metamor, King of the Midland, his own banner.
“It looks good seeing that back up there,” a voice said suddenly. Thomas snorted and his head snapped around to the source of the sound.
He found Misha standing less then three feet from him. The fox was leaning on his axe and he reeked of blood and gore.
“Misha,” Thomas said regaining his composure. “Where is George?”
The scout pointed to a portion of the ruins nearby. George was easy to find. The bright red banner was fluttering in the breeze and was easy to spot.
George was ordering a group of soldiers to pile stones in a gap in the curtain wall when the Duke walked up.
George bowed to the duke. “Sir Thomas.”
“How did the battle go?” the equine nobleman asked.
“Well,” George answered. “We’ve cleared the castle completely above ground and my people are checking the last of the underground places now.”
“Wounded? Dead?” the equine countered.
“No dead and only a few wounded,” The jackal answered.
“Five wounded,” Misha said. The fox had again snuck up on Thomas but this time the stallion wasn’t surprised. “They should all be back at the Keep by now.”
“That was far too simple and bloodless,” Thomas asked. “When will Nasoj respond?”
“Probably not tonight,” the jackal answered. “It’s too soon but my people will be out and ready.”
Misha nodded in agreement. “Tomorrow night will be more likely. Tonight we’ll probably run into a few scouts. We’ve set out some ambushes along the better used trails. The real fun starts tomorrow night.”
“How will they attack?”
“Small stuff at the start,” the old bandit answered.
“Individual scouts or small groups feeling us out,” Misha added. “Then they’ll throw larger raiding groups.”
The fox turned to George. “You think they’ll do anything bigger? Actually try and retake the place?”
The ex-bandit nodded. “They’ve put too much into these ruins already. This place won’t really be safe until the walls and Keep are rebuilt.”
“Even then they’ll keep up the scouting and raids,” the fox added. “But that is what the scouts are for.”
Thomas nodded his equine head. “The master mason and carpenter will be here tomorrow. Some two hundred laborers will follow within a week.”
“Good. Andre and his troops will escort them,” the fox said nodding. “I know how good he is.”
“He has his orders already,” George commented.
“When did you give him those orders? I just ordered the workers here this morning.” Thomas asked confused.
“Last month,” George answered as if explaining something to a child. “Master craftsmen and laborers are too valuable to leave them unprotected.”
The Duke was humbled. He had ordered the craftsmen out but he hadn’t considered their protection on the long and dangerous road to the ruins. “Battles are won and lost on little details like that,” Thomas thought to himself.
“Good,” Thomas answered showing no sign of his surprise. “Very good.”
To defend the newly recaptured fortress George placed layers of troops. Around the remains of the curtain wall itself a soldier was placed every fifteen feet for the entire circumference of the old fortress. Where the walls were too low to be an obstacle or were destroyed they piled rocks, tree branches or anything else they could find to block the opening. They would have preferred to place a barricade of stout timbers but they simply couldn’t carry the heavy wooden walls with them. Those would arrive tomorrow with the laborers and craftsman.
Everywhere outside the walls caltrops were scattered by the hundreds of thousands. A caltrop was a small length of wood with nails driven through it so the points bristled in all directions. Anyone stepping on them would have their foot or hoof punctured. It didn’t care if that person was a human, a horse, an animal morph or a lutin. That mattered little to the Keepers as long as it kept the Lutins out.
Inside the ruins themselves he had soldiers patrolling back and forth looking for the slightest sign of any Lutins. Two full troops of cavalry and a company of heavy infantry rested in the center of the fortress. Ready to move at a moments notice they would rush to any place that was being threatened.
Yet even with all the troops inside the fortress the first line of defense was outside its walls. These were George’s scouts liberally reinforced with light infantry from the third and forth regiments. In pairs they were hunkered down and hidden as good as possible. There they would stay all night watching and listening for the slightest sight, sound or smell that was out of place, signaling an enemy scout trying to sneak up on them.
George and Misha had little time for talking with the Duke. Both raced back and forth along the line of scouts checking each position themselves, ordering changes or improvements. Thomas was content to leave them to their tasks and merely watch them at work.
The rest of that day passed quickly but the night that followed passed slowly, very slowly.