George was waiting for them when the column reached the ruined gate of the fortress. He had been warned by the four outriders who had arrived ten minutes earlier. First came a score of cavalry. Then came a score of riders, their horses trotting alongside a dozen wagons, all piled high with supplies and passengers as they slowly trundled and squeaked along. Finally there came another twenty five riders.
A rider galloped free of the column and raced ahead. Andre reined in his mare just short of George and the horse came to a halt.
“Any problems?” the canine asked.
“We were hit twice,” the wolverine morph answered. “The second one was fairly large, with over a score of people in it. We managed to cut our way through it.”
George shook his head. “They’re responding fast. They’re sure to hit us tonight.”
“You want me and my people to stay tonight? We were going back to the Keep this afternoon. There are more wagons to bring up tomorrow.”
The jackal shook his head. “No, we need to push this construction as fast as possible.”
“Anything to go back?” the wolverine morph asked.
“Just the wounded. “We’ll clear a wagon for them and you should be able to leave soon.”
The jackal turned to where the wagons were being greeted by a group of soldiers. “LYNETTE!” he shouted. “Get those wagons unloaded and the people settled in before dark. And be sure to get the wounded loaded FAST! We want them back to the Keep long before dark.”
One of the soldiers in the group waved a hand in response and started shouting orders of her own. Soon the wagons were a beehive of activity as their contents were unloaded.
Andre waited until George had finished giving orders. “Where’s Misha?”
The old bandit pointed to the tower. “Getting some sleep. He’s going out tonight and he needs the rest.”
“Is he all right?” Andre asked.
George nodded. “Yes. Only a few scratches. He always comes through fine.”
“Just like you do.”
The ruined keep was alive with activity. There was so much to do and so little time to do it in. George seemed to be everywhere shouting orders and warnings and urging everyone to move faster.
A group of Keepers were busy at the gatehouse sealing the opening with massive slabs of wood. A different work party was quickly piling stones to change a mound of rubble back into a wall. Several other parties of people had spread out around the outside of the keep and were clearing a kill zone, devoid of all cover. Cutting down trees and brush from around all the walls. The brush was burned and the wood was dragged into piles. Later they would be cut into lumber and used for buildings, walls, doors and anything else that was needed.
One of the work parties was sent to clear the brush from the ditch on the side furthest from the gate. Soon they spread out and were hacking and pulling up bushes and weeds. Everyone was too busy to notice three figures that slowly edged away from the group and disappeared into the woods. And any that did notice the three had orders to NOT notice them and pretend they didn’t see anything.
Sunset this evening was greeted with a deep unease. Everyone had heard of the ambushes on the caravan and they all understood that it meant trouble. Any lingering doubts were dispelled when all the laborers were lined up and issued weapons.
Everyone checked their weapons and armor one more time and watched the sinking sun with fear and trepidation.
Nightfall to most soldiers in the Midlands was a time to relax; a time to set aside sword and spear, to bind wounds and rest weary bodies. Battles were occasionally fought at night but those were few and far between. They were things of legends and song and tales told by old veterans. Daylight was the time of war and battle, when they rushed about killing and fighting, waging war upon each other.
But here in the valley of Metamor daylight was the time of peace and quiet. The time to till the fields and go about the errands of life. Nightfall was a time to bar doors and shutter windows. A time when people unsheathed their swords and strung their bows. Night was the time of raiders and ambushes, the time when Nasoj’s Lutins would strike.
But this was old news to the people of the Keep and the valley it guarded. Lutins and other things had been raiding them for generations. They knew these enemies well and would meet them with spear, bow and sword.
The fortress’ walls were again guarded by the soldiers of the Duke who were following in the footsteps of their fathers and mothers. None needed any prodding to stay awake and vigilant.
But as boring and yet important as their jobs were they were mild compared to that of the people outside the walls. These people lay quietly in some forty hiding spots. Covered with branches, leaves and dirt they were invisible to all but the most careful search. For them time was passed sitting in the silence and darkness of the forest at night. It was here that those who gained the animal part of the curse had the edge. Their sense of smell and hearing enhanced a dozen fold. Many had also gained a far better night vision so that the forest at night was no longer so dark or foreboding.
So it was that Meredith and Georgette found themselves sitting in a hunter’s blind carefully tucked into the branches and trunk of a fallen tree. They had spent a good portion of the previous day carefully weaving wood, earth and leaves into the branches and trunk of the tree till they had created a little hiding place inside which they could sit and be completely hidden.
One problem was the hiding place itself was small. Georgette had no problem slipping in. Her smaller, woman’s body fit inside easily enough. But Meredith was another thing all together. His massive brown bear form left him weighing in at over half a ton and over seven feet tall. It took him several minutes to slowly work his way into the blind without disturbing all their hard work. Still it had been worth all the effort as when they were finally settled the two scouts were invisible to all but the most careful examination.
The night passed slowly for the two. They took turns, one sleeping while the other stayed awake. Meredith had long ago lost track of the time, seated with a heavy crossbow on his lap and an axe next to him. He sat silently, not moving lest he make a noise. He opened himself up and let his animal senses fill in the forest around him. His ursine ears picked up the slightest noise from the woods. He could hear a pair of forest mice foraging through the leaves and grass a few feet in front of him. The sensitive nose the curse’s magic had given him picked up the faint scent of a rabbit somewhere off to his left. It was probably just foraging like the mice were.
When the noise came it was a subtle one; a faint crinkling noise off to his right. A single crinkle as if something had stepped on a leaf. Meredith swiveled his ears in the direction of the sound and sniffed the air but heard and smelt nothing unusual. So he waited and listened for anything else. His patience was rewarded a few minutes later by another noise, this time a faint rustling that continued for a few seconds. In front of him he heard the mice suddenly make a loud noise as they scrambled to the safety of their burrow. More interested in speed then stealth. They had heard the noise too.
A cat or a fox perhaps out hunting a meal. Or it could be deer or some squirrels foraging. He slowly and quietly checked his crossbow to be sure it was still cocked. Then he placed a bolt into the groove ready to shoot.
Meredith again resumed his waiting, listening and smelling. Another crinkle noise, this time closer. Then a tink – very faint but clearly audible to his animal ears. It was a sound he recognized – the sound of wood striking metal.
He reached down with his left hand and touched Georgette on the shoulder. The woman woke up instantly and silently. The bear pointed off in the direction of the noise. She nodded and reached for her spear.
Straining his eyes through the darkness Meredith made out the vague outline of a figure about fifty yards away. He waited and the shape moved heading closer towards him.
He picked up his crossbow and aimed it at the shape without ever taking his eyes off of it. Suddenly the faint whiff of a scent came to him. A mixture of blood, sweat, offal and a stale smell unique to Lutins.
The crossbow shuddered in his massive hands as he loosed the bolt. It flew through the air and connected with the figure which dropped out of sight instantly. Quickly and as quietly as possible Meredith recocked the bow pulling it’s drawstring back until it hooked over the release catch. He placed a new bolt onto the slide and brought the weapon back up to his shoulder. The two of them sat there in the dark with weapons ready and waited for daylight.
Some ten miles away to the north Misha, Finbar and Craig were lying prone behind two large boulders. The rocks rested near a well used trail that wound south into Metamor Valley. A quick look at the trail in daylight revealed branches broken off, brush and weeds beaten down and the ground smoothed in many places. All signs of the trail having been used a lot recently. There had been a large amount of traffic on this trail.
The plan was simple. Whatever moved down the trail that belonged to Nasoj would be killed. If the group was too large for the three of them to handle they would simply wait for the next group and kill them. All they had to do was wait.
It was a short wait.
There were twenty Lutins in the group all moving at a slow pace down the trail. The Keepers had been moving around the old ruins, causing trouble and they had been sent to find out what was happening.
The trail was long and circuitous but they had traveled over it countless times and they had no problems with getting lost.
The first warning they had of an attack was a shower of arrows and javelins that cut down a dozen of them in moments. There were a few moments of confusion before Misha closed the short distance from his hiding place. They didn’t see the black colored axe but they certainly did see the results. Blood and gore splattered in all directions as the blade sliced through a lutin’s body with terrifying ease. Then the confusion turned to panic. They scattered in all directions trying to escape. Few succeeded.
Sunrise was a welcome sight for the workers. A long wagon ride over pothole and rut infested trails had been followed by a night in cramped, cold tents. They hadn’t even been allowed out to light fires to warm themselves. And now breakfast was cold trail rations and water. Few believed that there were any Lutins within twenty miles of them.
All the gripes and grumbles disappeared when two scouts carrying a litter slowly walked past. The wounded figure on the litter was a Keeper. There was no mistaking the black and white striped fur that covered his body.
“Eat quickly. We have a lot of work to get done before nightfall.”
All eyes turned from the wounded keeper going past to where the woman stood,
which had been her intention.
She was tall and long limbed. Her black hair was cut short and tied in braids
kept close to her skull. The clothes she wore were of wool and leather cut in
the simple style of a laborer, but the gold and silver medallion around her
neck spoke of rank and authority. Her face was weather-worn and her hands had
the rough, scarred looked that told of many years of hard work.
“You were all told this was dangerous, so that shouldn’t be a big surprise,” Samantha continued. “Everyone will carry a weapon where ever they go and no one goes alone. Do not enter the woods unless specifically told to do so and then only with a guard.”
“I want to see all group leaders now,” she ordered but they had already started to gather.
In moments twenty people were clustered around her as the rest scattered to their tasks.
“First we get the palisade up across the breaches in the wall. Then we erect the barracks and work shops.” She looked around at the assembled group. “William have you gotten a look at the wells yet?”
A young male otter morph nodded his head. “Yes my lady. The well in the town square is clear all the way down to the bottom.”
“Good. Have you checked it for poison?”
“The water is clean and pure.”
“Be sure to test the water every day. I don’t want to loose anyone to some sneaky lutin with a bottle of poison. Have you had the chance to look for the other two wells that are here?”
“I’ve found where one should be but I can’t be sure of what the well looks like.”
“Why?”
“There’s a building on top of it.”
“Several actually,” a young woman next to the otter added.
She nodded. “All right. We’ll get a crew to clear enough debris to get to the well head. Have you marked the site?”
“Yes,” the otter answered. “As best I can.”
“Good. We need that well. One well will not supply enough water for all these people. I want you to check the well in the basement of the Keep. Misha thinks it’s been poisoned or at least polluted.”
“No telling what the Lutins have dumped down it,” the otter commented.
She nodded. “That brings up another point. Traps. The scouts haven’t had a chance to sweep the ruins thoroughly so everyone is to be on guard for traps left behind by the Lutins. Also there is no telling what dangerous things are left from the siege. If you find something even suspect you found something stop work immediately, back away and call for an officer.”
Samantha paused for a moment and lowered her tone and her head. “We are sure to encounter the dead as we work. Remember that they were our friends and family.”
“What if they are Lutins?” someone asked in a cold tone.
“We bury them,” she answered. “I don’t wage war on the dead. We’ve got enough trouble with the living.”
The three people wandered down the street. They had to move slowly avoiding the weeds and bushes that grew up between the paving stones. The ruined buildings that lined either side of the road loomed over them as they walked.
“That was William’s place wasn’t it?” a young blonde haired woman said and pointed to the remains of a three story building.
“It was,” Panno responded.
“The Lutins really ripped it up,” A tall bull morph commented.
“This is it. This was my shop.” Panno was standing in front of one ruined building staring at it intently. It had been a brick building two stories in height. The first floor had a door large enough for a horse and carriage to enter easily. Beyond the doorway he saw only charred wood and tumbled down bricks.
Panno stumbled through the wreckage to the forge all that mattered to him right now.
“It doesn’t look bad,” the Amanda said.
Matthew ran his hands along one wall. “The walls feel firm. Just a little black from the fire,” the bull commented. Matthew looked up at where the roof had once been. “I can throw a tarp over the open roof to keep the rain out till we can get the roof back on. That will mean repairing the walls and getting roof beams up.”
“First we’ll need to remove all the debris on the floor,” Amanda said. “To make room for us to work and to live in.”
“The forge looks to be all right,” Panno said shifting some half-burnt boards off the forge. “We’ll need to clean out the flue before we can get the forge going again. She’s been cold for too long.”
Misha found George in a group with Lynette, Anwell, Samantha, a half dozen scouts whose name Misha couldn’t quite remember and a ibex morph that he had never seen before. The leader of the workers looked ill at ease among all the armed and armored people.
George pointed to the ibex, “This is Sir Diddian, Lord Thomas’ master architect.”
The jackal next pointed to the fox. “This is Misha, my top scout and second in command.”
Misha nodded his head towards the ibex. “Pleasure to meet you.”
The ibex nodded in response. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I hope you can keep my workers safe.”
“I’ll try,” the fox answered.
“Nasoj is reacting faster then expected,” George commented. “The Lutins ambushed Andre’s caravan yesterday and scouts attacked last night.”
“Did we lose anyone?” Misha asked.
George shook his head. “No but there were a few wounded. More then I expected for the first night.”
Misha answered. “We ran into a good sized group last night.”
“I’ll have them push the workers harder,” George commented. “We need to get the ditch redug and the kill zone cleared as fast as possible. Then we can start on the walls.”
“People can only work so fast,” Samantha countered. “If you want this done faster we’ll need more people.”
George shook his head. “The Duke won’t send any more.”
“The Duke only has a small work force and he simply cannot spare any more,” Samantha commented.
“How long will it take to clear the ditch and all the brush around the castle?”
The woman shrugged. “I won’t know until I’ve fully surveyed the site and that’s the first thing I’ll do this morning.”
“You’ll take a guard with you,” George ordered. “A pair of archers and a pair of spears. Sir Diddian, you’ll also have a guard.”
The ibex nodded. “Thank you. I want to make a complete inspection of the curtain wall, towers and gate house. Then I’ll see the Keep. That is probably going to need the most work.”
“Why the guards?” Samantha asked a little unnerved.
“Until we’re sure there aren’t any Lutins lurking somewhere you need the protection,” Misha explained.
“And when they realize that you are leading the rebuilding,” George stated. “Nasoj is bound to try and kill you.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what I would do,” Misha explained calmly.
“You are expecting problems?” Diddian asked.
“This is going to get pretty bloody before it’s over,” Misha commented out loud.
George nodded. “It always does.”
Nestorius the Illustrious arrived in a carriage followed by two wagons piled high with all his belongings including a complete bedroom set. At the rear came another wagon. This one filled with a score of workers all in the pay of the mage himself. The small caravan wound it’s way through the town before stopping in the center of the town square.
The lion morph that stepped from the carriage was dressed in a long flowing robe made of yellow and blue silk. On his paws were boots made of the finest leather and on his hands were gloves just as finely made. His mane had been carefully groomed, combed and curled.
He circled the town square three times examining each building he passed carefully. Finally the mage stopped in front of a set of tumbled down walls and a pile of rubble that had once been a building. The floors and roof were gone but the walls were made of massive marble blocks each over a ton in weight and towered high overhead. This building must have one been over forty feet tall and impressive to look at. He stepped around the ruined building slowly examining everything carefully. Finally the feline walked back to where the wagons and workers waited. “This is the place. Put my tent in the open yard next to it. Then you can start repairing the walls and roof.”
“What about clearing the debris inside?” a worker asked. “Makes sense to clear that first.”
“No!” he answered forcefully. “This was once a Mage’s home and there are all manner of wards and traps about. Until I clear the last of them it is unsafe for anyone but myself.”
“Is it safe to go near the walls at all?” a worker asked.
“I did not sense any magic left on them but I will personally check all the walls as well just to be sure,” the feline answered.
A young woman of about twenty years of ago walked up to the feline holding a silver cup full of wine. She had the slim but muscled build of a warrior or a worker but was wearing a fine silk dress of green and gold. “After the tent is up perhaps you would like a private meal and a rest,” she asked and smiled. There was no doubting who he would be sharing the tent with and that there would be little real resting.
He took her chin in one massive paw and kissed her lightly on the lips. “No. Not this night. There is a lot of magic here. Most of it from a guild mage but there are older spells here as well. Even a few left from the Suielman. First I need to clear the old wards and traps and then erect my own. It is going to be a long night Amelia.”
A lot of work was needed to restore the old fortress. They needed to clear all the debris, redig the ditch and rebuild the curtain wall, the gate house and the Keep. None was easy.
Clearing the ditch meant removing all the dirt and rubble to a depth of fifteen feet deep and twice that wide. It was hard work with shovels and picks to move the dirt and wagons pulled by teams of oxen and horses to remove it. And of course with the ditch now cleared the bridge crossing it to the gatehouse had to be rebuilt too.
The interior of the vast fortress was a tangle of collapsed walls and all manner of debris. Before the siege a small town had been here. Its houses and taverns playing host to the families of the soldiers who garrisoned the keep and to the brave souls who hunted and cut timber in the surrounding forest.
There was little time to clear all the debris from inside so it was cleared in only certain places that Diddian had chosen. In those spots wooden huts, buildings and sheds were quickly thrown up. Some were barracks for the workers and the soldiers but others were workshops for masons, carpenters, ironsmiths and stables for the horses and oxen who did all the heavy pulling. There was even a blacksmith and a small infirmary.
Misha noted with some amusement that the first three buildings to go up housed the kitchen/dining hall, the second a small drinking house and the last was a large latrine.
The hardest part was rebuilding the curtain wall that surrounded the fortress and the Keep that rested in one corner. Both had been built of the same hard limestone blocks, each weighing some three hundred pounds and rectangular in shape. At least most of the needed blocks were already present, literally scattered all around the site, laying where they had fallen when the place had been destroyed in the siege. That did not remove the work, however just lessened it. First all the debris had to be cleared from around the ruined walls. When all the rubble had been cleared the remaining parts were then carefully examined and shattered and broken stones removed. Only then could the workers start to actually rebuild the walls using new mortar to bind the old stones.
The curtain walls were relatively easy to work on. Being barely twenty feet high they didn’t require much in the way of scaffolding. The tower keep on the other hand had been some seventy feet high. That meant building wood scaffolding to the same height as well as a crane to carry the needed mortar, stones and wood up.
Of all the tasks that needed to be done by the workers one was dreaded and disliked more than any other: road work. The road that ran north from the Keep and eventually made it’s way to the fortress had once been paved with stone and carefully maintained. Where it crossed streams or ravines bridges carried it over safely. Many of the bridges had survived as had much of the paving itself, but both needed much work to be made safe. And worst of all was that in the intervening years the brush and trees had grown close providing countless places for Lutins to spring ambushes from. All that growth had to be laboriously cut down and removed. It was long, hard work done far from the safety of the fortress and its countless guards. Out on the road there was no protective screen of scouts in hiding to keep the Lutins at a distance.
No matter how many soldiers that surrounded them, no matter how many Lutins they killed, there always seemed to be more attacking them. Often the first warning was a shower of arrows thumping down around them. Thankfully that didn’t last long.
Misha tried to ignore the water dripping down his neck and concentrate on the world around him. The rain drops came down around him pattering off the trees and leaves before coming to rest on the forest floor. Off to his right on the road ran up to the fortress, a crew of twenty Keepers were hard at work replacing broken and missing paving stones. They had been at it since just after dawn.
Finbar and Craig were scattered on the opposite side of the road hiding just like he was. All were waiting and watching for any sign of trouble like they had been for the last two days. But things hadn’t been all monotonous waiting. Four times Lutins had tried to attack working parties and gotten rude surprises from the three scouts.
Off to his left Misha caught sight of some movement out of the corner of his eyes. He turned his head in time to see a half dozen Lutins creeping toward the road bows and spears in hand. Without hesitating Misha brought up his bow and loosed two arrows.
Propelled by the power of the long bow the projectiles sped through the rain and buried themselves deeply into the torsos of two Lutins. The remaining Lutins instantly crouched low to the ground and looked all about for their assailant.
Misha froze counting on the branches and leaves that made up his hiding place to keep him unseen. He heard moaning and the sounds of something thrashing in the leaves on the forest floor. One of the Lutins was dying a slow and noisy death.
Everyone held still for a long moment and the moans and thrashing slowed and finally stopped.
The fox caught a bit of movement and sent another arrow to it. He was rewarded a loud shout. A shower of arrows thumped down around him and he felt a sharp sting on his right side as one of the arrows sank home.
He gave a glimpse to his side and saw a small gash in his leather armor from which a trickle of blood dripped out. Misha had little time for the wound. He slung his bow and picked up his axe with both hands.
Crouching low for a moment Misha launched himself up and out of the blind he had been hiding in. Arrows zipped past him as he hit the ground running, swinging the axe over his head.
His vulpine legs propelled him along the forest floor as still more arrows flashed past him. One hit the axe’s blade and shattered into a score of splinters but Misha didn’t see them. He covered the distance between him and the Lutins in seconds. The axe swept down and beheaded a lutin with no real trouble.
Three Lutins charged straight at the fox spears leveled at his chest. Misha spun the axe in a tight circle shattering the spears into thousands of splinters. He kicked one lutin hard in the stomach and he tumbled backwards. The fox smacked the second on the head with the handle of the axe. A third fled screaming into the forest clutching the shattered remains of his right hand. That powerful axe swept down twice.
Misha turned to the survivor but even wounded the lutin had kept his head and had quickly vanished from sight. As to where the lutin was hiding there was no sign. Even the trail of blood ended suddenly, offering nothing to track.
Behind him he heard the sounds of someone blundering through the brush trampling leaves and breaking limbs as they went. Turning to the noise he saw two Keepers dressed in armor and carrying spears charging towards him.
Holding up both arms Misha waved to them. “It’s me, Misha.”
The two soldiers slowed and came to a halt close to the scout. “What happened?” one of them asked.
“They were going to ambush you but I got to them first. Be warned there’s one lutin left around here somewhere but I doubt you’ll find him.”
Things moved along at a breakneck pace with everyone working to get the walls and keep back in shape as quickly as possible. The only time work came to a halt was when someone came upon a body. It happened all too frequently. Often when they were moving rocks or shifting burnt wood they’d find the skeletal remains of someone who’d died during the siege. Then all work would come to a halt and the remains were carefully wrapped in cloth and removed. If it could be identified relatives would be informed and the remains claimed. If not the body would be buried in the small cemetery outside the walls. The Keepers had discovered a small lutin cemetery on a small hill nearby. They had left the lutin graves alone and simply added more graves around it for their own dead. The cemetery was the one place the Lutins never bothered. The dead there were left in peace by both sides.
While the work continued inside the bloody and tedious contest continued outside. The scouts of the Keep and the Lutins of Nasoj fighting, tracking, hunting each other in the woods and trails of the forest. Day and night the scouts patrolled through the trees and underbrush moving slowly and stealthily as they looked for the enemy. If they weren’t patrolling they were hunkered down in any one of a score of hiding places. Their only rest came after two days when other scouts came to relieve them.
Life at the site fell into a routine of sorts that started at dawn with the changing of the guard. Those who had been on sentry duty since midnight were replaced by fresh soldiers.
The laborers had been awake for a while now, finished their morning meals and scattered to their appointed tasks. Some were building walls, others were clearing out the ditches and still others were cutting down trees and clearing brush. There were a thousand tasks that needed to be done.
Caravans loaded down with the supplies and materials needed made the laborious trip to the site protected by cavalry and infantry. A day didn’t pass without at least one ambush happening somewhere.
As darkness approached the tempo on the site changed. Work was stopped as all of the workers quickly returned to the safety of the half-rebuilt walls of the fortress. The walls themselves saw twice as many guards as during daylight. The final meal of the evening was eaten and everyone settled down for the night.
For the laborers tired from a days work it was a night of drinking and then sleep. For those who guarded the walls, towers and gates it was a long, tedious night of walking, listening and watching for an intruder who probably wasn’t there.
All that paled in comparison to the scouts in the woods that surrounded the fortress. Not a night passed without four or five attempts to get to the fortress and more ominously they started attacking the scouts themselves. Deliberately hunting down the scouts as they lay hidden hoping that if they killed enough the Keepers would retreat to the walls of the still half rebuilt castle. But George was an old hand at this type of warfare and knew how to handle this change in tactics.
Raiders attacking a hiding place expecting to find only two keepers might find themselves facing a half dozen soldiers instead, all heavily armed. Other times they would locate a hiding spot and attack it only to find it empty. Then a shower of arrows from the real hiding place would rip through their ranks. No hiding place was ever used more then once. One located on Monday would be found empty on Tuesday and often trapped to catch the unwary. And even if they did locate a hiding place still in use they were all within arrow shot of each other. And an attack on one would prompt a counter attack from others nearby.
Also the Keepers weren’t content to just sit and let the Lutins attack them. They moved deeper into the woods and went after the raiders. Groups of Keepers patrolled the areas around the fortress watching closely for anything that didn’t belong there. To make matters more difficult for the Lutins the patrols followed no set pattern starting and leaving at all hours of the day and night and never was the same route used more then once.
Many a raiding party found itself ambushed by the very people they were trying to kill. Other times the two groups would come upon each other and a wild fight would ensue. Usually it would start with a shower of arrows, spears and javelins flying back and forth before one side or the other would retreat.
The daily caravans moving to and from the fortress were another popular target since there were only a handful of routes they could take. It was easy to lie in wait until a caravan appeared and then attack. But the caravans were hardly unprotected. Cavalry trotted alongside the wagons and archers and infantry walked or rode with the wagons. The result was a short and intense fight before the Lutins faded back into the woods. Unable to leave the wagons all the guards could do was let them go.
George switched some of the scouts to the road having them patrol in the woods on either side. Another trick was to have no cargo in the wagons instead filling them with more troops. When the caravan was ambushed these troops would spring out and chase the Lutins off. And unlike the guards they didn’t have to stay near the wagons and could chase the ambushers as long as necessary. The Lutins responded to that by placing a second ambush behind the first one. The Keepers chasing the Lutins from the roadside ambush would run straight into a second one. The Keepers responding by have two groups of pursuers one behind the other. If the first ran into an ambush the second would maneuver behind it and attack the ambushers.
And so it went on with tactics shifting and changing constantly. The scouts were too professional to be too badly surprised but the fighting was always intense.
And so the bloodletting went on and on, day after day as the work of rebuilding the fortress crept forward at a maddeningly slow pace. As time passed skirmishing and scouting grew more frequent and the raiding parties grew larger and larger.
“When will they attack?” the Duke asked. For weeks Thomas had watched the progress nervously. He tried not to appear too frequently at the site afraid that it might make people nervous. Also as the Duke he physically could not leave Metamor Keep too often as there always seemed to be something he had to do. Thomas would have preferred to have Thalberg here but both of them couldn’t leave the Keep at the same time. It was frustrating having such a major operation going on and he could only watch from a distance.
Still George did keep him well informed through a stream of reports that were both detailed and blunt. The last one had included a line that had brought the noble stallion to the half-repaired outpost: “There will be a very strong attack on the castle within three days. It will be a direct attack meant to destroy it completely and kill everyone inside.”
George shrugged. “Hard to say when. There have been warnings about this for the last two weeks that it will be soon. Three days ago Misha and his people ambushed a score of Lutins all loaded down with arrows and spears.”
Leena gave a short growl of laughter. “And you said the men were getting bored with all the patrols and guard duty.”
“THEY said it,” the lion snarled. “Not me. I like boring, unexciting, non-bloody guard duty.”
“Will we be ready?” the stallion asked.
Diddian nodded his head. “The ditch and walls will be ready by then but not the keep itself.”
“All my people will be,” George answered. “I’ll pull the patrols back closer to the keep and double the number of ambushes.”
Thomas looked to Nestorius. The lion was standing silent in a corner lost in thought. “And what of the castles magic defenses?”
“Still unfinished,” the feline mage answered. “The basic protections are in place but with things still unfinished I cannot cast the more powerful wards. The curtain walls are already protected as is the Keep. I do want to point out that this fortress is a confusing mess of old spells of all types and ages. Some recent, others older. There are many left from the Seuiliman. I have even come across a few that are pre-Seuiliman. I will personally be ready for whatever happens but no defense is ever perfect.”
The door flew open and Misha rushed in. Panting heavily the fox dropped into a chair exhausted.
PANT! PANT! “There’s a”
Pant, pant “big group.”
Pant, pant. “Coming.” The fox managed to gasp.
“Over three,” pant, pant, “hundred.”
George passed his friend a large pitcher full of water and Misha drained it all without pausing.
“Where and when?” The jackal asked.
The fox was silent for a moment regaining his strength. He tapped a spot on the map north of the castle. “Twenty miles from here. Three hundred and forty Lutins, twenty humans and two ogres.”
“How long until they arrive?” Thomas asked.
“Four hours or so but they’ll probably strike after midnight,” Misha explained.
George nodded in agreement. “There’ll be no subtlety in this attack. Just a plain cat fight. Take a full company from the fifth and leave before dark. Lynette, Misha is taking your third company.”
Both Misha and the woman nodded in response.
The fox turned and headed toward the door.
“Where is he going with some one hundred of my people?” Thomas asked.
“I’m going to ambush them before they reach here,” the fox answered in a condescending tone as if talking to a child. “You think I’m just going to sit here and wait for them to come here?”
“Why not use the entire regiment?” Thomas asked ignoring the implied insult from the fox.
“That’s just one attack,” George explained. “He’s sure to have another attack coming here.”
“Agreed,” Misha added. “They’re out there. We just haven’t found them yet.”
“They’ll definitely hit tonight,” Lynette added. “Can’t keep a group that large hidden for long.”
The jackal pointed to Samantha. “All your people are to be fed and in their barracks at least two hours before dark. And I want them ALL armed!”
“Anwell. Put a company near each of the gatehouses. You command one, Leena commands the other. Stay there and keep anything from getting in,” George ordered.
George turned to the wolverine. “Andre,” he commanded looking at the wolverine. “Your people stay for tonight. Misha says you’ve fought on horseback at night before.”
“With the Lutins only raiding at night we’ve no choice but learn how to fight at night,” Andre answered.
The jackal pointed to the Duke. “You leave NOW,” he commanded. “We need you safely at the Keep before dark.”
“No,” the Duke answered harshly. “I will not be ordered around like some peasant. I am . . ”
“You are the Duke,” George interrupted, “and have no place in the middle of this fight. We can’t afford to have you killed.”
“I am staying. I will not run away and cower in the Keep while my people are fighting and dying.”
“Do you have an heir?” George countered coldly. “Someone to take over when you get killed?”
“My adopted daughter Malisa,” the stallion answered.
“And she is where?”
“Safely at the Keep.”
George curled his lips back in what might have been a snarl or a smile. “At least you have some common sense. Don’t do something stupid tonight like charging around blindly giving bad orders or you’ll get a lot of people killed. If I don’t kill you myself.”
“I am here to be sure that YOU don’t do something stupid tonight,” the nobleman said calmly standing as still as stone. His only movement was the faint flick of his tail back and forth.
“Still don’t trust me?”
“No.”
The room fell into dead silence and no one moved or spoke.
George gave a short bark of laughter. “That’s fair. I don’t trust you either. Tonight we’ll find out if we can trust each other.”
“Indeed.”
The old bandit turned and looked at the people standing around silently. “Go. We’re burning daylight.”
With that the crowd scattered in all directions.
Misha paused at the door and looked at George. “You be careful.”
“As always,” George answered. “And remember who is in control.”
“I control the axe George. It doesn’t control me.”
“Be sure it stays that way.”
Even without the orders and warnings from their officers word spread fast. The old soldiers among them recognized the signs as clearly as George had and quickly passed the warnings to the new ones. And just as quickly the more gossipy soldiers told their friends among the workers. Any doubts disappeared for good as they watched over a hundred soldiers head out of the north gate and off into the woods at a fast trot. There was no need for the sergeants to shout to get their people moving faster.
Sunset was greeted this day with a great deal of fear and trepidation. There was no doubt as to whether they would be attacked or not. It was just a matter of when and where.
Misha had a difficult problem. He had 112 soldiers to deal with a force of over 300 hundred Lutins, a score of humans and two ogres. At least those were the one he knew about. The known ones didn’t bother him. He knew how to deal with them. It was the unknown that worried him. Unpleasant surprises could be deadly in a battle.
The fox, the ferret and the prairie dog had all spent a lot of time in the valley chasing, hunting and stalking Lutins so they knew the terrain well. So they had no difficultly locating a spot for the ambush. It was a place where the trail turned hard to the right to avoid a large pile of rocks that were too sharp and steep to climb.
The company he had with him was evenly mixed between archers and peltasts – javelin throwers. All carried a sword along with their other weapons. All of which would see a lot of use this night.
Misha spent over an hour carefully arraigning all the soldiers. The peltasts whose weapons had a shorter range were placed close to the trail. The archers were placed further back. The fox himself was a fine archer but his real weapon was his massive black axe. So he placed himself along with Craig and Finbar close to the trail itself. His orders were simple. Kill the humans first, then the ogres and finally the Lutins. He was sure that with the ogres and humans dead the Lutins would simply break ranks and bolt for safety. Which is what he would do in their place.
A big problem was vision. This ambush would take place at night and would make hitting a target from a distance very hard. But the fox had considered that problem and had an answer.
Soon everyone knew what was expected of them and had settled into their assigned places. Now there was nothing left to do but wait.
Nestorius’ relations with the Order had been cold and distant since the curse had changed him. People who had been friendly and helpful suddenly became cold and distant. Worse they routinely dismissed his requests if they bothered to answer at all. None of them seemed to understand how dangerous things here really were. The Order seemed more interested in the local gossip and politics then in helping protect the Midlands. They were even disinterested in the curse itself! The most unusual and powerful magic effect in decades and the order had no interest in it! None! Their behavior truly baffled him. Why did they send him to Metamor if they didn’t care about the place? He had always suspected that his being sent to Metamor had been to simply get rid of him.
The lion was desperate but he refused to show it. He had too much training and experience to panic. “My Liege,” Nestorius said trying to be calm. “I do need the Order’s help here. I sense that Nasoj is summoning something very powerful here. I cannot defeat it alone.” He sat in a darkened room pushing his mind and voice out to a person who sat in a similar room far to the south in Pyralis.
“Summon what?” came the condescending answer. “Too many hyenas, too many of those green skinned monsters? You have all that you need. Do not bother us again with such trivial matters.”
The lion stiffened and let lose with a deep, guttural snarl revealing a muzzle full of long, sharp teeth. “So be it,” he said angrily and ripped the medallion from around his neck. Nestorius tossed the piece of jewelry aside and walked away. He never looked back.
The night breeze rippled Thomas’ mane lightly as he stared out into the darkness. From up on top of the keep tower everything looked so peaceful and calm. The darkness below hid a world in danger. The stallion pondered what the night would bring. How had a wanted bandit and a bloodthirsty, axe-wielding, maniac fox convinced him that this was a wise move? Now he had over fifteen hundred of his people waiting in the darkness for battle and death.
Thomas watched the sentries who nervously paced the walls far below. George had certainly lived up to Misha’s praise and his reputation. The old bandit had laid the troops perfectly and the stallion could find no flaw in the defenses. Still Thomas found himself checking again and again for the slightest flaw before George had bluntly told him to get some rest. It was the one order from him that Thomas agreed with but he couldn’t even sit still, never mind sleep. He was reminded of what had happened here two years before during the Battle of Three Gates. Would the same thing happen here?
“Nervous?” George said suddenly appearing next him.
Thomas snorted and jumped back slightly his hooves ripping splinters up from the newly laid wooden floor.
George stood still until Thomas has regained his composure.
“Now I understand where Misha got that habit,” Thomas said. “You need to take care. Next time you could get a hoof in the muzzle.”
George shook his head. “Nope. I’m out of arm and leg reach.”
The Duke realized that George was right. He was standing just out of reach of a kick. The old soldier never missed anything and had gauged the duke perfectly. Somehow that reassured Thomas.
“I’m not nervous but I am worried,” Thomas said. “I’m sure there is something we’ve forgotten. Some unguarded door or window. Some weakness.”
The canine shrugged. “Nothing is perfect. Every castle has a weak point.”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
“I’m aware of the problems and I deal with them but I never worry. It just wastes time.”
Thomas rested his arms against the newly rebuilt battlements. “What worries me is not the Lutins, humans or even the ogres that are out there. Nasoj is a mage and he deals with many foul things. During his last attack some nameless evil slipped past all our defenses and slaughtered the Lightbringer priests and acolytes.”
George simply nodded. “I know.”
“How?”
“Knowing your enemy is half the fight. What Misha couldn’t tell me I learned from the people I command or from the Lightbringer priestess. A most helpful person but she has certainly earned the nickname Ice Queen.”
The equine nodded his head. “She has her reasons for being cold. Raven lost all her family that day.”
Georges answer was a nod of the head. “I’ve dealt with mages like that before. Killed a lot of them too.”
“This mage has a habit of surviving and coming back stronger then before.”
“Everyone can be killed. The hard part is understanding how to do it.”
Suddenly off in the distance a bright flare erupted in the darkness. Even from this distance Thomas could see flames shooting up high over the treetops.
"I see Misha is having his fun," George said casually as if discussing what was for dinner. The flames died down then flared again before sinking down to a dull glow. “He had better not set the whole forest on fire.”
“You’re calm about it all,” Thomas snorted. “This is not one of his silly killing raids. He has over a hundred of my people out there with him.”
“Misha is a good leader. He’ll bring them all back alive,” George answered.
“I wish I could be so confident,” the Duke said trying to remain calm.
“I trust his judgment and so should you,” George said without looking away from the fire.
“Trust him?” Thomas asked. “He’s a berserker who thinks only of killing!”
George turned and looked the duke square in the face, His eyes burned with a surprising intensity. “You’ve known Misha barely four years. I’ve known him for over 2 decades. Who should know better what he can do? You or me? He was right about you needing your scouts reorganized. He was right about you needing my skills and he was right about retaking this fortress. And if you think he could not command troops why did you let him take them out? Why didn’t you stop him?”
Thomas didn’t have an answer to that. The idea of countermanding Georges order just never entered his head. “Why? Because I may not trust Misha’s judgment but I do trust yours.”
The night was profoundly quiet. In spite of there being over 100 people hidden nearby the woods around Misha were surprising quiet. He couldn’t see any of the keepers and he could only hear the occasional rustle. That was good.
His sensitive vulpine ears picked up first lutin long before he saw it. Someone was moving slowly down the path towards where he was hiding. Misha could hear the soft sounds of careful foot falls along with the rustle of leaves and debris. The sounds moved slowly down the path towards them until a figure became visible. It was a faint shadow, a little darker then its surrounding. He paid close attention to this shadow as moved slowly down the path. This was a scout sent out ahead of the main body to warn of ambushes.
Suddenly an object launched itself from the ground and onto the lutin. Misha caught a glimpse of a blade in motion then both dropped from sight into the undergrowth. It was all over in a moment. Not the softest sound came to Misha. He couldn’t help but be happy at Finbar killing that scout so effectively. Not a sound or a wasted motion.
No sooner had the path been cleared then came the sounds of more people coming down the path. This time there was two of them walking side by side. Misha gripped his axe tightly. These two were his.
The final attack when it came was as subtle and deadly as a nightmare.
It should never have fit thru the narrow opening of the well but it did. The creature came bubbling and boiling up from the depths of the well flowing over the old stones and weathered timbers easily. The overpowering stink of rotting fish and stagnant water filled the air as a wave of water washed over everything. With an unholy scream of delight the creature pulled itself completely clear of the well and moved towards a group of stunned people.
The main body came with a lot more noise then it’s now dead scouts. The tramping of heavy feet, the smashing of tree branches and the sound of the undergrowth being trampled down by scores of feet. And there was the thump, thump, thump of the massive feet of an ogre. The wind shifted slightly and he caught the harsh smell of a hundred unwashed bodies, some Lutin, some human and at least one ogre.
Slowly the group came into view. The massive, eight foot tall figure in the lead had to be an ogre. Behind him was a dozen people walking in a tight formation. He noted that in spite of the rough nature of the trail they kept close ranks. Those were probably the humans. No Lutin would be so foolish as to keep such close ranks in these woods. One good volley of arrows would wreck havoc in those tightly packed men.
A few steps behind the humans came another, larger group of people. These didn’t have the same discipline as the previous group. And moved in a more haggard grouping that was really just a large mob. But he noticed that these Lutins were spaced out so that none was too close to the other and all were holding weapons at the ready. These were skilled experienced warriors.
Coming up behind the Lutins was more humans again in the closely packed ranks. And last of all was another ogre, this one carrying a massive battleaxe whose head alone was a large as Misha was tall!
It was several long minutes as this group moved down the trail. They seemed to Misha to move with a glacial slowness that was frustrating.
The fox waited till this group was in the center of the trail and in just the right spot before acting. Misha took the fire bomb he had been hiding and quickly lit the fuse from a small spark. He tossed the heavy sphere into the middle of the Lutins. After a scant few seconds there was a soft karoomp and bright fireball blazed to life and lit up everything like the sun at midday.
“ATTACK!” he shouted.