The party arrived at Hareford without ceremony before or during their arrival. Julian, if anything, was disappointed at the moderate pace that Alex set on the way, and was never more than a few steps behind the lynx. He also seemed to be the only one that didn’t need any time at all to catch his breath once they had arrived. Lois considered talking to him, but the moondog found a place to lock himself away soon after they had been welcomed into the barracks.
Three of them quickly took advantage of the relatively comfortable accommodations to rest before they headed for the wilds in the north. If all went well their stay there would be brief, but none of them would count on that eventuality. Alex left them to their relaxation, however, and made for the keep at the center of the fortress. He had sent from the gates to request a meeting with the commander of the fortress, and was pleased to receive a prompt reply in the affirmative despite the short notice.
The keep was truly nothing like Metamor’s own central edifice. It was a squat, almost square, structure that dominated one corner of Outpost, its halls quite concrete in their shapes and destinations. This didn’t stop it from being daunting to anyone who had been raised in a more rural area as Alex had been. He might have been more intimidated by the corridors had he not grown so used to the halls of the Keep, but he had long since learned to ignore the foreboding walls and superfluous decorations that men of taste used to disguise the drab, featureless stone which formed their homes. He preferred trees to walls any day.
He was not visiting the commander of Hareford to discuss home decoration decisions, however. He was here to deal with his previous visit, an experience that now caused him nothing but shame.
The black lion who ruled Hareford met Alex in a small office, rather than in any sort of audience chamber. Alex had requested a private meeting. Some things were better discussed between two men.
The black lion was waiting for him, standing with his back to the door as Alex was ushered in. He smiled at the lynx as he turned. The expression was very familiar to Alex; he saw it in the mirror with reasonable regularity. Having a similar face to the mage certainly made understanding his expressions easier.
The black lion was dressed impeccably, wearing a striking blue robe with gold trim running along all of its edges. His mane was styled in a way that Alex suspected had taken hours, with complicated braids and more than a little jewelry woven into its length. Still, his general demeanor was personable, and Alex found it easy to return to smile in kind.
“Alexander hin’Valius, I presume?” the lion asked.
Alex bowed low before the commander of Outpost, more out of obligation than due respect. “Yes, sir. Thank you for agreeing to see me on so short notice.”
The lion waved a paw dismissively. “My responsibilities are well within paw, and I had wanted to speak with you as it is. Metamor sent ahead word of your impending arrival.”
Alexander nodded. Although he doubted that another patrol had been sent with that purpose in mind, mages like Nestorius had ways of communicating that transcended the need for a messenger. He briefly wondered what all the black lion had been told, but he quickly put it out of his mind a moment later. He would discover the truth before very long.
The guards left quickly, leaving the two felines alone in the room. With other dignitaries, some might have stayed to assure that the lynx did not try anything, but everyone was well aware that the mage who commanded Outpost was more than capable of defending himself. As soon as the door was closed, Alex took the opportunity to state his purpose immediately.
“Sir, I do not know if you recall the incident as well as I do, but on the occasion of my last visit, I said more than a few harsh words at your expense. Although my current mission requires my presence until its end, I wish to submit myself for discipline upon our return from the North.”
The lion laughed, a sincere sound that was utterly relieving to the lynx’s ears. A good-natured smile formed on his muzzle, and he waved to the lynx as he turned about. “Come,” he said. “I prefer to speak while walking.” So saying, he triggered hidden mechanism in the wall behind him, and several false stones slid away to reveal a cramped, but serviceable, passage back into the halls.
Alex shook his head, unable to resist a smile despite the serious nature of the ongoing discussion. “You’re sure the guards won’t mind?”
The lion shrugged, the bangles threaded into his mane jostling with the act. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” he whispered with conspiratorially.
Alex followed Nestorius out into the halls, and soon the two had left the keep entirely, the guards at the door of the chamber none the wiser. Once they were into a more comfortable walking area, Nestorius addressed the question that he had left hanging as they left.
“I do remember that occasion,” he said, turning to look at Alex as they moved. “I was affected by it enough to inquire about it some time later, and was pleased to hear that your lost party members had returned alive. Before anything else is said, I did want to let you know how hard it was for me to deny your request for a rescue party at that time. I am no military man, and I am fortunate enough to have a family, so the thought of leaving men to die by my inaction rubs me the wrong way. To hear that they were alive was very relieving.”
Alex nodded his agreement. “I was also quite relieved, as a patrol commander and a friend. One of my men lost a leg, but the alternative was far worse. Still, I recognize your reasons for refusing to form a search party at the time, and realize that my reaction to your decision was unacceptable.”
“To be honest, Alex, I would take that sort of radical determination to save a friend over strict obedience, especially when that determination is tempered by a wisdom that can see when the alternative is the best available option,” Nestorius opined. “Surround yourself with advisors who can see the other options, and you will be a great commander. The help of advisors is the reason that I fooled the Keep into thinking I was a capable military commander for so many years.” He cracked a smile at his own joke, and Alex returned with a smaller smile. “I am certainly happy that military decisions now fall to a man with far greater skill in such matters, even if he is a bit of a trial at times.” He seemed to wince for a moment at some line of thought, but quickly returned his mind to the present as Alex spoke again.
“Despite your reassurances, I still feel as though my actions were tantamount to insubordination.”
Nestorius nodded, but did not immediately respond. He stopped and looked about the grounds that the walls of the fortress encircled. The long winter had strangled much of the color from the grass, and the constant march of boots had further reduced the area to dirt and stone, stealing much of the color from the already dreary environs. Still, the lion felt a strong pride in the small fortress. It was not Metamor, to be certain, but it was his home more than the larger Keep could ever be. It was also his schoolmaster in so many ways. Already a master mage by the time he had arrived in Hareford so many years ago, he had still learned enough for a lifetime within its walls.
“I think,” he said slowly, quietly, “that it is less important to be punished in this case than it is to learn from it. Your command needs you; I meant what I said about your potential as a leader, and to take you from them for any length of time would be unprofitable. By your desire to seek me out and not force me to request a meeting, I would say that you have already shown no small degree of humility, a trait I myself often lack. Let us call your apology punishment enough for now.”
Alex smiled. “Thank you for your mercy, sir,” he said. “I do not know if I can profess the same amount of faith in myself as you have, but I will do my utmost to justify that confidence.”
Nestorius nodded, then turned to face Alex directly. No one was in the area, as all the soldiers were occupied either with their regular duties or training, and so he felt safe in the confidentiality of his next statement. “You can begin by taking care on your current mission,” he advised seriously. “Andwyn contacted me himself regarding this patrol, and whenever the spymaster takes it upon himself to speak with me directly, it means that he means me to keep a close eye on it. This is not so much a patrol as it is an assassination mission, am I correct?”
Alex could tell by the lion’s tone that he did not intend the question as a means of confirming a suspicion. He simply wanted to hear what he knew coming from Alex’s muzzle.
“Indeed, sir,” Alex responded quietly. “One of my men, a man by the name of Vincent Lois, has some expertise in the area, I suppose you could say. This mission is his, but of the four of us only myself and Lois are aware of its true purpose. Officially, we are only seeking information.”
“Hiding the nature of a task from the very companions who will help you see it done is rarely advisable,” the lion cautioned in an undertone. “I understand the sensitivity of the mission, but the revelation of its true purpose at an inopportune moment could easily spell doom for you all.”
Alex nodded, sighing as he considered his next words. “I agree, but I fear that any time before the act itself would be inopportune in this case. One of our companions is in his first mission with us, and I do not know how far I can trust him. I would question George’s decision to include him in our group so soon, but it would be impossible to leave him without also leaving our mage, Lucy.”
Nestorius nodded gravely. “I have no particular talent for foresight, but everything about this task screams of ill omen to me.” He growled low in his throat. “Take whatever precautions you can to see it done, and keep your eyes open for any chance of escape in the event of discovery. Also, realize that you have plenty enough enemies in the enemy camp. Do not make foes of your own men as well.”
Alex sighed. “I will certainly do everything in my power to avoid making enemies in the camp,” he affirmed. “I hope that will be enough to see us through.”
The leonine mage quietly agreed. “Now,” he said, lifting his voice again, “we should return to our meeting chamber before anyone begins to question how quiet our discussions have been.”
The two returned to the chamber in relative silence. Alex was relieved by the first discussion, but speaking of the coming mission had set him on edge. He had not been comfortable with it since George and Andwyn had explained its nature to him some time before, and the more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. He just wanted to finish the task and return to the Keep. Now more than ever, he missed the presence of Gerard. The stag was always a reliable friend in even the worst of situations.
March 5, 708 CR
Alex was up several hours before his companions, as was his custom. Once he was ready for the patrol, he headed out to inquire after the weather for the next few days. By the time he had returned, both Lucy and Julian were awake and moving. Lois, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. Lucy could offer him no idea of the ermine’s whereabouts, but Julian muttered something about the man going outside with a few words about acclimating to the temperature.
It did not take the lynx very long to find his missing companion. The man was sitting on the ground outside of the barracks with his eyes closed, wearing nothing but a pair of thin breeches to ward off the bitter cold. The rest of his clothing was sitting in a bundle with his weapons, and Alex wondered what would happen should another attempt to steal them. As he had no desire to die, however, he left them be.
“This is an odd way to spend your morning,” the lynx commented.
The ermine hardly moved. “Should the worst happen, I may have to use the Curse to my advantage. I expect that my fur will be slightly thicker in my feral form, but I do not want to be shivering should the truth prove otherwise.”
“How do you feel?”
Without pausing for a moment, the ermine responded, “Cold, and trying not to think about it.” He opened his eyes and turned to the archer. “Are we prepared to depart?”
“Not yet. The others are still preparing their equipment, but they will be ready shortly. I have personally just returned from inquiring about the weather we will see in our mission.”
“What are they predicting?” Lois asked.
“They say that it is likely to snow in the north. It shouldn’t be a repeat of last week’s blizzard, but the ground is still frozen. Whatever snow does fall is likely to stick.”
Lois nodded, closing his eyes again. “That is all the better. Snow will help me blend into the terrain more easily. The more factors that stack in my favor, the better.”
Alex snorted. “Do you always consider such things on your missions?”
“Well, I did not have to consider the natural coloration of my fur until recently, but details are always important. Regardless of what they say, no true master ever plays fair. The most surefire way to succeed is to eliminate all possible methods of failure. Stack the deck, load the dice, do whatever it takes to make it impossible for your opponent to succeed.”
Alex smirked. “Not the cleanest fighter, are you?”
Lois scoffed. “There is no such thing as a fair fight. If a man is locked in battle with you outside of the arena, he means to kill you. The only men who fight fair are those who have been taught to do so, and such men seldom last long outside of jousting tournaments.”
“How do you feel? About the mission, I mean?” Alex asked.
The ermine shook his head, but his eyes remained closed. “Uncomfortable. I never wanted to do this again, and yet I don’t think I could live with the consequences of my own inaction again. This is something I have to do.”
“I don’t know what makes you think you have the obligation to return to assassination when you suggested the idea yourself. The Keep did not ask you to do this, it was your own decision. They would not be happy, perhaps, but I think that their trust for you would benefit from you calling it off.”
“This isn’t for my benefit or for the Keep’s benefit.” Lois’ eyes had snapped back open, and he was giving Alex a cold stare. The deep blue coloration of his eyes made it even more effective than it might otherwise have been. “This is a favor for a man to whom I owe more than a few.”
“There are certainly other ways you could repay such a trust.”
“No.” Lois shook his head vehemently, then heaved a sigh before continuing. “No. I don’t know what soul I have left after all these years, but I would easily credit him for saving whatever remains. I cannot repay all that he has done, but I can do this at least.”
Alex wanted to respond. There were words he could say, but he could not see them making a difference. The mission would continue, despite his opposition to the same. The lynx was not certain why he truly cared about what Lois did; he hardly knew the man. Still, there was an odd sincerity to the way that he spoke, and what he had done for Gerard made it impossible for him to truly believe that the man intended any ill for the Keep. It was no comfort that he was still intending to continue this assassination attempt, but it would be difficult to change his belief that Lois was a good man at this juncture.
“Come,” he said after a few moments. “I am certain that the others are prepared to leave now, and we had best not keep them waiting.”
Lois nodded and reached for his bundle. He equipped himself as they walked back towards the barracks, and was surprisingly finished before they arrived. He wore a dark coat, colored to blend into shadows, and trimmed with a curiously rich-looking fur collar. Alex was certain that it had to be some sort of ironic statement by the man, since he could not imagine that it was helpful to his camouflage in any way. Across his chest he wore a bandolier of throwing daggers, and at his hips he wore his two main weapons, a longer pair of blades that served him in place of a sword. The sword that Alex had requested on their previous patrol together was absent. Lois was disinclined to bring it, and after the events of that patrol, Alex was less inclined to suggest it. The assassin would need to be light for his task.
Lucy and Julian were both ready by the time the two men reached the barracks, and were quietly performing some sort of joint meditation ritual. They noticed their commander before he even spoke, and were both on their feet when he greeted them.
“Are you both ready to begin?” the lynx asked.
“Certainly,” Lucy responded. The moondog beside her only grunted in affirmation, but he was clearly as prepared as any of them.
Alex waved towards the door with one paw. “We have much ground to cover,” he announced. “Let us be on our way.”
As they left the doors of the barracks, the first white flakes that signaled the coming snow had already begun to fall. Alex hoped that they would stick. If it aided Lois’ mission, he was more than happy to see it fall.
The patrol reached their destination with some daylight left, and so set about the task of finding their quarry. Fortunately, the lutin camp had not moved much since the last time Metamor’s spies had sighted them. It seemed that they had found a good hunting ground and were staking their claim to it, and none had been able to challenge that claim thus far. Quietly, Alex’s patrol began to observe the camp, taking precautions to make sure that no thus-far absent portion of the tribe came up behind them while they were watching. The sun set slowly, and gave them time to watch their enemies at camp.
The snow had continued throughout their journey, even seeming to increase as they passed the Giant’s Dike, and by the time they had reached their destination it had thoroughly covered the ground to the depth of three or four inches. Lois let the stray flaked cling to his fur, clothing, and whiskers as he moved. It speckled the dark color of his clothing white, and seemed to add pieces of fuzz to his already thick fur. Alex might have pointed this out had he not wanted to live for a few more years.
There was little motion, but what ebb and flow there was around the camp quickly helped them determine which of the crude tents housed the chief and which held the shaman. These were, of course, pointed out as likely sources of relevant intelligence, but Lois and Alex noted them with more than a passing curiosity. As soon as the ermine had seen them both, Alex could virtually see the thoughts flowing through his mind. He was plotting the perfect way to make his entrance and his exit, and it was clear that he was preoccupied. Alex simply hoped that Lucy and Julian took that mission for what they had been told.
Once the sun had set, the planning began in earnest. The Keepers watched in silence as campfires began to spring up. It was clear to see that this tribe did not fear its neighbors, as its bonfires were bright and numerous. Even more concerning, they lit the area and melted the snow around them. It would be a difficult entry, regardless of what they tried.
Watches switched for fresh legs and eyes a little while after the campfires were lit, and Lois was immediately examining their positions for mistakes or exploitable weaknesses. Julian matched him for intensity of scrutiny, but he was quick to shake his head.
“It’s a bad idea,” he whispered. “Metamor doesn’t need this information this badly, we should return or wait for a better situation.”
Alex almost agreed with him, but Lois shook his head. “The guards in that area are already gambling,” he responded, motioning towards the group he had mentioned. “They will be too engrossed in who is winning to care about performing their duty. We should wait for them to begin raising their voices, and then we can move while they argue.”
As he had noted, a trio of lutins were beginning a game of knucklebones, chuckling together as they tested each other with cheap bets and cheaper tricks. They glanced about to make certain that no one was watching with regularity, but Lois was right. Such games seldom remained entirely friendly for their duration. Julian silently conceded the point, and the four returned to their observations, maneuvering slightly closer to get a better look.
As Lois had predicted, one of the players had soon been caught sneaking a bead from another player’s stack. The discovery was relatively civil as far as gamblers’ arguments tended to go, but their attention was immediately off of the forest and onto the game. With some precedent now, the lutins were more inclined to watch the stacks of valuables they were gambling with than they were to look for intruders.
“Now,” Lois signed.
Alex nodded. “Do you think you can get the information?” he asked.
Lois coolly responded in keeping with the cover story that they had chosen. “Of course. I’ve been into more tightly guarded placed than this without the benefit of natural camouflage.”
“With all due respect, I have experience in espionage,” Julian contradicted. “I think I should go.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve worked with Lois, and I know what he can do. I hope to be able to say the same of you before long, but this is too important for me to take any risks with it.
Julian huffed in annoyance, but said nothing further. He crossed his arms instead, and looked back at the squabbling lutins.
“Best go quickly,” Lucy interjected. “They may find more entertaining pastimes, or they could be corrected by a superior. We have no guarantee that this distraction will continue for long.”
Without another word, Lois made for the edge of the camp. The lutins whose distraction he was exploiting were thoroughly engaged in their game, but Lois still kept low to the ground as he exited the tree line. Lying on his stomach and covered by his snow-covered clothing, it was hard for a casual observer to tell him apart from the nearby rocks when he stayed still.
He was patient, as he had learned to be from years of experience. More than one pair of eyes stole over his prone form, but he was dismissed as some background object that they had not noticed previously. With almost shocking stealth, the ermine soon crossed the distance to the chief’s tent. Although it was at a longer distance than the shaman’s, the two were close together, and the assassin preferred the shorter path once it was time for his escape.
Several guards were stationed outside the tent, but Lois ignored them. He drew one of his main daggers and used the razor edge to slit the tent’s material swiftly and silently. He slipping inside carefully, keeping his eyes and ears open for any guards who were permitted to stand guard within, but there were none. Instead, the chief herself was the only occupant, and she slept silently on a bed that represented a luxury unheard of by her tribe. Lois slithered towards her location, but made extremely certain not to trip any traps, magical or mundane, on his way. From an unseen sleeve hidden in his cloak’s collar, he drew a thin dart, its tip covered to keep it safe until he had need of it. Removing this protection, he took aim, and threw it carefully, directly into the sleeping lutin’s neck.
She jerked, swatting at it in her sleep for a moment, but paid it no more mind that she would have a mosquito that similarly disturbed her rest. Unfortunately for her, it also meant it would be her final rest on this side of death.
Lois’ egress was swift and silent, and he was soon beside the shaman’s tent. The area around it was eerily silent, with neither guards nor fire within a stone’s throw of the tent. Lois breathed deeply as he stood outside of its dark form. Here he was more in danger than his target. With no notion of magic and no way of resisting a spell cast at him, the ermine had to rely on preparation and luck for success.
The first concern was lethal magical traps set on any entry point an attacker might use. Lois quietly drew out a strange, marble-sized gem, and tossed it towards the cloth of the tent. There was a spark and a soft flash, and the bauble fell to earth, both itself and the spell intended for the ermine inert. The thing was almost pure mithril and was hardly cheap, but it could not only trigger but also absorb most spells before they could be fully unleashed.
Lois took the precaution to test the canvas again, but now not even the slightest hint of magic touched the stone. He retrieved it, as it had not yet served its purpose, and then proceeded to cut his way through as he had done with the first tent.
He threw the second bauble in before him and ducked through soon after. His forward guard remained unharmed, but he still went carefully to retrieve it, looking around him as he did.
The tent held no few items of tribal and magical significance. Ingredients to be used in alchemical spells littered every nearby surface, while wards against evil spirits adorned the walls of the tent, many sewn directly into its surface. There were no visible spells anywhere, but Lois knew better than to trust this sort of luck. His left hand remained on his dagger while his right clutched the mithril sphere. His eyes searched the area, looking for any sign of his target.
His first sign nearly took an ear from his head, as a bolt of magic sizzled past, dispersing behind the ermine as he just managed to dodge. The tent had evidently been made to resist such attacks, as it showed not even a singed thread where the magic had struck it. Lois mouthed a bitter curse as he drew a dagger and threw it towards the unseen target. He was close enough to be dangerous, and he saw a pile of furs move as his opponent took shelter behind them.
The pitch black hindered neither party, but would doubtless have confused any attempting to observe the battle. Lois’ animal eyes had long since adjusted to the low lighting, and he surmised that his opponent had a quick magical trick that allowed him to have the same advantage.
Lois drew one of his main daggers in his right hand, while a throwing dagger was soon in the palm of his left. He maneuvered behind a table full of strange symbols, trying to keep it between him and his enemy. The shaman proved adept at this sort of combat himself, and Lois was barely saved by the corner of the table as another spell struck it, turning it around fully with the force of the spell. Lois shouldered into the table and turned it over on its side, ducking into its cover as a third spell, aimed for his head, passed over him.
The shaman chuckled coldly. This was not the first time he had fought a Keeper, and it would not be the last. Those searching for lethal traps could all be foiled by a single hidden thread that triggered nothing more than a small spell intended to rouse him from any slumber. They could disarm his lethal trap spells, but none were skilled enough to face him openly.
He threw another spell at the center of the table, and heard his opponent grunt as the piece of furniture slid backwards. He could have shattered the wood without much more exertion, but a shattered table meant splinters would fly everywhere, and there were many complicated enchantments lying about that he had no desire to repair. Putting his opponent on his back should be enough.
The shaman stood and struck the table with one more bolt of magic. He grunted in surprise as the table toppled, showing no man hiding behind it. It was a simple trick, a cloak to hide the man in such a fight. A ball of flame lit in his palm. He would end this with a single strike.
And yet, as the flames scorched the earth and the table alike, there was no cry of pain to follow. The shaman cursed in a guttural voice and raised a ward to protect against magical attacks. He stepped forward, two different spells finding life in either of his hands. He would find his attacker, and he would crush him.
As he stepped into the ruin of the table, he had only enough time to flinch as something exploded off the wall at him. He turned and unleashed his prepared attacks, only to send a giant bear’s pelt into a raging inferno as it landed on him. Screaming in rage and pain, he threw it away, but it was already too late.
Behind him, Lois emerged from beneath another table, slicing the mage’s back open with one dagger before twisting under a flailing arm and disemboweling him with the other. As the shaman collapsed, the ermine drove a poisoned dart, similar to the one that had killed the chief, into the lutin’s chest. The ermine danced back and prepared his antimagic orb as a last defense against a counterattack, but none came. The shaman remained where he lay, his scorched clothing turning crimson with his blood.
The blaze that the Shaman’s last spell had created had not stopped, however, and the tent now began to catch in the flames that were consuming the bear pelt. Lois discarded the simple string he had used to turn the creature’ fur to his advantage, and turned to make his escape. He would have attempted to put out the fire, but he doubted that even the distracted guards would have ignored the shaman’s cry, and a blaze would help distract them during his escape if he moved quickly enough.
He left through the slit he had created a few minutes before, briefly running on all fours to keep momentum as he ran. He slid behind a tent as a few guards ran towards the smoking tent, and took a moment to plan an escape route.
The camp was beginning to come apart at the seams. As he took shelter in the snow, he could hear a cry going up from the chief’s tent; evidently, the threat of fire at the shaman’s resting quarters had increased their concern for her, and even the threat of death at her hands could not keep them from checking on her health. Fortunately, this meant that everyone in the camp was suddenly running to one of two very specific places. The other side of the camp was quickly being vacated.
The ermine waited for a few moments, but once he saw an opening he took it. He kept his head down and charged through the snow, heading for the trees while the lutins headed away. His daggers were still held in a white-knuckled grip after the combat with the shaman, but he meant to avoid using them if he could. With the lutins distracted, it was at least slightly more likely.
The shaman’s life was slipping through his very fingers, despite his attempts to use his magic to heal his ills. He tried to ask a boon of any spirit that would listen, but their ears were all shut to him now. They now awaited only his soul, and seemed content to receive it sooner, rather than later.
His right eye was blinded by his own blood, but his left eye slowly focused on something that lay in front of him. It was a small bauble, similar in size and shape to the one that the assassin had used to disable his traps, but far different in the nature of the spell it contained. The lutin coughed and reached for it, closing it in one blood-stained hand with some effort, even as loss of blood and poison drained away his life.
If the spirits wanted his soul, they would have it, but he would not see his murderer escape so easily. With one final effort of will, the lutin poured all of his hatred, malice, and desire for vengeance into the gem, and one more effort of will gave the desire a power it could never have had otherwise.
And then the shaman shrieked in anguish as his final spell drew its power from his own blood.
Lois was only a dozen steps away from the edge of the forest when he heard the horrible death wail of the shaman. There was only one cry that had ever turned his stomach like this one did, but even that horrible night was struck from his mind as a strange sensation raced through him in an ominous wave.
The ermine’s dagger dropped from his right hand as he reached for his head, his escape forgotten amid the lancing pain that threatened to split his skull. His eyes quickly clamped shut as though such an act could repel the sudden invasion, but it simply resolved itself into an insistent, nagging feeling that something was wrong. He continued to run, but dizziness began to overtake him and he stumbled, bringing his eyes open once more.
The world pitched like a ship in a storm, and then the assassin suddenly tripped on clothing that was clearly too large for him. As he tumbled forward, Lois could see his fingers retreating into his gloves, robbing him of the convenience of hands. It brought to mind his intention to use his feral form in case of a desperate escape attempt, but he had not willed this. An icy fear began to grip him, and then the world suddenly fell into absolute darkness.
A thick, smelly material had closed around him, stinking heavily of his own scent and also that of a predator. He hissed and scratched at it, but his claws simply caught in the heavy weave. A wave of desperation overtook him, and he threw himself bodily against the fabric. It would yield! He would not let it hold him!
As he struggled, the ermine suddenly encountered something cold and metallic. He scampered back from it in surprise, only to feel his tail emerging into the open air. He spun and forced himself against the cloth in the opposite direction, and finally his head emerged out of the stinking pile of cloth.
The animal stood up on his hind legs, sniffing and surveying the area for threats. Both ears and nose told him what his eyes could not see so readily; there were threats here! He could scent predators of all sorts, and loud sounds indicated that they were nearby! Dropping to four paws, the ermine made a desperate bid to flee to safer environs.
The wave of dizziness struck Lucy with the suddenness of a flash of lightning. She gasped and stumbled back, realizing as she did that her clothing was suddenly very large on her. After nine years under Metamor’s Curse, Lucy was quick to identify the telltale signs of her apparent age rapidly melting away. She had no idea why it was happening, but she immediately began to fight the change with all of her willpower. She refused to be reduced to a babe ever again!
And then it was gone. As quickly as the wave of magic overcame her it disappeared, allowing her to immediately regain her customary stature, even if that was only the apparent size of a ten-year-old girl. She glanced over towards her companions, who returned her worried glance in kind.
“You both felt that?” she asked, her voice barely restrained after the shock of the change.
Alex nodded as Julian looked on wild-eyed.
“The Curse?” he gasped. While Lucy and Alex had been present for the original casting, Julian had changed afterwards, and the frightening sense of being forced into a foreign shape had never struck him with such force as this before.
Lucy nodded. “Something connected to the Curse. Ever heard of a fetish stone? It turns the countercurse back somehow, forces the Curse to completion. This seems to have been a failure of some kind, but a disturbing attempt nonetheless.” She stopped to catch her breath. “And if someone knew to attempt such a casting, that means that they know that we’re here. Where’s Lois?”
The three turned back to the camp. In the brief moments that the three of them had been distracted by the sudden resurgence of their Curse, the situation within the camp had dramatically changed. First, despite the darkness of the sky behind them, trails of black smoke were rising from the direction of the shaman’s tent, striking a contrast to the colorless wisps of smoke that rose from the carefully chosen wood of the campfires. The guards from the camp had noticed as well, and were showing a remarkable lack of discipline, abandoning their posts almost to a lutin to see what was going on.
“What did he do?” Alex hissed. “He was supposed to collect information, not burn the bloody camp down!”
“More to the point, where is he?” Lucy asked.
Before she had finished speaking, Julian spoke over her. “There!”
He was pointing a bit further around the perimeter of the camp. It took a few moments for Alex and Lucy to notice what the moondog was indicating, but they knew he was right as soon as they saw it. A pile of cloth lay a few paces from the tree line, one of Lois’ daggers visible lying beside it. Despite the presence of his clothing and his weapons, however, the man himself was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did he go?” Alex asked. He had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer.
“Maybe the spell was targeting him directly,” Lucy replied. Even as she was speaking, the mound of cloth on the ground began to shift. Out from under the hood came an ermine. There was nothing to its form that suggested that it had ever been a man, but the situation made the truth obvious. It stood on its hind legs and began to sniff the air.
Lucy cursed, but Alex didn’t waste time on such trivialities. He quickly began to circle around the perimeter of the clearing, trying to get as close to the fallen Keeper as possible. His two companions followed him without question, keeping eyes on the ermine as they did.
It did not take long at all for the animal to drop back to four paws and make for the trees, and Alex picked up the pace immediately, dropping stealth entirely for the chance of catching the assassin before he disappeared into the trees. In doing so, however, he alerted the creature to his presence, and the feral ermine quickly dashed away from him, disappearing into the undergrowth.
“No!” Alex took a few more steps, but he completely lost sight of Lois. He pulled up, unsure where to go, or even what to do. Thankfully, Lucy was still clearheaded enough to make suggestions.
“Alex, get Lois’ equipment. Julian, do you think you could scent him out in these woods?”
The moondog hesitated. He understood what she was asking, but it was not something he had ever previously considered. Still, after some thought, he nodded.
“I believe I could. I will prepare while Alex retrieves Lois’ supplies.”
Alex didn’t argue, instead immediately following Lucy’s instructions. The watchmen about the camp had thankfully left their posts unmanned, and it allowed him to have a few moments to collect the assassin’s fallen equipment. He threw most of it into his own pack before heading back to his patrol. By the time he arrived, Julian had dropped to all fours and now looked like nothing more than a natural hound, the lack of the aura of fear making it difficult to tell that he was a moondog at all. In contrast to Lois’ mental change, however, the mage’s eyes still held a definite glint of intelligence.
“Here.” Alex drew out a piece of cloth that had belonged to Lois and presented it to Julian, who sniffed at it a few times, taking time to appreciate the nuances of the scent before he turned his head and began to sniff through the undergrowth. He looked back at the others and nodded towards the trees, moving quietly and quickly after the retreating ermine.
The hunt was thankfully brief, and led them far enough away from the lutin camp to make them a bit safer. Julian tracked the scent to a small hole in the earth, just visible through the snow, and indicated silently that the feral Keeper had gone to ground within its depths. Alex sighed and looked to his companions.
“Now what?”
Lucy dropped her pack on the ground and began to sort through the supplies within. She threw a pair of breeches to the moondog first, then dug a little deeper into her supplies and pulled out an odd contraption from within.
“Lucky for you, I happen to be a trapper’s daughter,” she commented. She began to carefully set it at the end of the tunnel, taking pains to be certain that everything was in order. “There,” she said finally. “Now hopefully, there are no other exits to this tunnel. If not, then he will have to come out sometime, and this should catch him easily when he does.”
“In good health?” the lynx inquired.
“Of course,” Lucy said as though feeling insulted.
“Let’s hope it’s soon enough.” Julian said, stepped back out from behind a tree. Lucy tossed him his coat from within her pack, and he gladly slipped it over his shoulders. “If the lutins suspect a threat, they may try to sweep through the woods looking for us. We must be cautious.”
Alex nodded. “Very well.” He looked up into the canopy for a moment and then back at his fellows. “Let’s get off the ground for now. If someone does come, they may be a little less likely to find us if they have to look up.”
The three Keepers were soon in the branches above the burrow, unable to do anything but wait for the ermine to show himself. The thought of being forced in mind and body into the form of an animal haunted them, and they hoped against hope that they would be able to rescue Lois somehow.
The ermine huddled in the shallow burrow, trying to calm itself while he could still scent the predators that were seeking it out. Its state of mind was not aided by the fact that the burrow was clearly unfinished by its former occupant. It was deep enough to be safe from most creatures, but the single hole that was both entrance and exit made the weasel nervous. At some point, he would have to leave his sanctuary, and he had no way of knowing what awaited him on the surface.
He tried to curl up and force himself to rest, but his mind was in an uproar. Something in the back of his mind kept trying to force its way forward, only to be turned back again and again. Despite its repeated failure to emerge however, it added just one more element of chaos to the ermine’s muddled mind.
Finally abandoning all hope of sleep, he began to balance the pros and cons of attempting to escape his newest domicile. There were still whiffs of predators beyond the tunnel’s exit, but they were clearly fading. Whether the stoat could trust that they were not still lurking nearby was uncertain, but remaining where he was hardly seemed more inviting.
The ermine made his way slowly towards the mouth of the burrow, taking the time to be certain that he could not hear anything in the forest beyond. He finally worked up the nerve to make a quick dash outside, and he acted on that decision too quickly to easily change his mind. By the time he realized that there was a trap set at the mouth of the tunnel, the simple contraption had already closed behind him, trapping him within.
He gave a series of indignant cries as he whipped around and tried to struggle against the cage's bars. Though they were thin, however, the tree they had been crafted from proved exceptionally resilient to his escape attempts. He could nick their surface with his teeth and claws, but doing anything further proved beyond his depth. Squeezing between the bars was similarly impossible, although he did manage a few reasonable attempts. After a few moments of struggle, however, everything went black, and the ermine did not even have a view to an escape.
Lucy covered the cage with a dark cloth as soon as she confirmed that the former assassin was safely enclosed within the bars. It did little to quiet his protests, but she hoped it would help stop him from struggling more quickly. Alex was down from his perch in the tree soon afterwards, while Julian remained where he was, though he now stood on his perch, looking out into the deep darkness of the surrounding forest.
“Can you quiet him?” Alex asked. “We need to be moving, and if there are any lutins about we do not need him alerting them to our presence.”
Lucy stooped over the cage and wove a simple spell over the cage. Soon afterwards, the chirps and churrs that had been coming from its occupant were silenced, leaving the forest once again in a deceptive state of calm.
“Julian, is there anyone coming?”
The moondog quickly descended from the tree, barely slowing his fall on his way down, although he made a silent landing at the bottom. “No one nearby, and the sounds of the forest have returned. I think we are safe for now.”
“Why wouldn’t they be following us?” Lucy asked. “They must know that there was some outside interference involved.”
“Perhaps not, if all witnesses are dead,” Alex noted. “They might think that it was simply an accident. It came from the shaman’s tent, after all, there’s nothing saying that a spell didn’t go wrong and take his tent with it. That does still beg the question of why everyone left their posts to attend to it, but I suppose that may just be testament to his influence. Let’s not leave anything to chance, though. We need to get back to Hareford tonight.”
The prospect of such a journey was not particularly desirable to any of them; not only had their mission been delayed until after sunset, but they had also been forced to wait some time for Lois to emerge. The journey back to Outpost was not a short hop, and they were all on the point of exhaustion. Still, something about the prospect of sleeping in a bed inside of the fortress instead of the middle of lutin-controlled territory made them more agreeable to it. All present nodded their agreement, and no one delayed as Alex began to move. Julian took the cage as they left, and dutifully carried it, even as he felt the futile struggles of its occupant through the cloth.
The pace of their egress was much slower than that of their journey in the opposite direction, but they still made good enough time that the ermine was still struggling, if far more weakly, when they arrived at the Dike. They had no encounters along the way, but Alex still called a halt, and moved forward himself to be certain that the road was clear for his companions to continue through.
The lynx kept an arrow nocked and ready throughout; their relatively good fortune was making him paranoid. Still, all of the suspicious shadows proved to be nothing more than that, and he motioned Lucy and Julian on as soon as he had set himself at ease. He kept his bow and arrow at the ready as they advanced through the ruins of the Dike, but the silence hid no lurking threat, and their journey continued unhindered.
As the walls of Hareford appeared before them, Alex sighed with relief. He was not certain if it had just been luck, or if some friendly deity had seen fit to bless them with an easy path on their way, but he was glad to see that they had managed the journey without any further complications. He still worried about what would become of Lois, but they would at least have the advantage of outside help as they tried to answer that question.
Their reception at the walls was slightly less reassuring.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Alexander hin’Valius and company.”
“Where are you traveling from?”
“We have just returned from a patrol in the North. Please, we need refuge and assistance.”
The men on the wall consulted among themselves for a few moments. Alex turned and looked at Lucy, but she just shrugged silently. There should have been very little verification required for the men on the walls to be certain of his honesty, but they were forced to wait for quite some time as their request was considered. Finally, however, the gates were opened.
A nervous man met them within, looking them over with a distrusting gaze. “You’re fortunate that one of the men on the walls recognized your group,” he stated. “We’re not letting a great number of people through with news of a plague at the Keep.”
All remaining members of the patrol felt their blood run cold at the news. “A plague?” Alex asked quietly.
The guard nodded with a sigh. “The city is under quarantine for the foreseeable future, and we’re on high alert. If a case of the plague is found here, we may just be forced to close our doors as well. Regardless, do not expect to be leaving these walls anytime soon.”
Alex looked at the covered cage that restrained Lois. Shaking her head, Lucy said what all of them were thinking.
“Let us hope we do not have to.”
An older man sat in a dark room, writing strange symbols with a steady hand, one by one on the surface of the parchment before him. His surroundings were nearly silent, an eerie lack of sound contrasting the usual bustle that such fortresses so often contained. The man’s breaths could be heard between every methodical scratch of quill on parchment, those two sounds breaking the heavy silence in turn.
Suddenly, the heavy silence that choked the derelict structure was broken by a series of desperate cries, a man’s voice echoing up and down the empty halls. The steady quill jumped across the page, eliciting a subdued series of curses from the man. He sighed and stood from his ruined project, pulling the hood of his dark robe up over his head and exiting the small cell of a room, out into the halls.
He was met halfway by a younger man who had come running. The young man sketched a messy bow to his senior before locking stride with him and beginning to talk.
“It’s Lois,” he said in a hushed, hoarse tone.
“What? What do you mean, what happened?”
“We’re trying to determine that right now. All we know is that his Balance is the one that just lost contact.”
The two men walked in silence, the older man’s face set in a worried expression. Soon they had arrived at a small cell, and the guard who stood at the door let them in through a heavy, banded door of wood and metal. Inside, the man who had been screaming sat, hands hanging limp at his sides, weeping silently and looking about the room in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” the older man asked.
“What is it? What happened? I was—Vincent was…”
“Calm yourself!” the man demanded. He raised his hand before him and silently cast a spell on the sobbing man. His breathing calmed quickly until finally he had been overtaken by an almost unnatural calm.
“I succeeded. The chieftain and her shaman were both killed, and I was escaping. Then…” He began to grasp at the air with both hands, as though doing so would allow him to understand what had happened. “Nothing! Then I was here. How am I here? Where have I been for so long? Who is Vincent Lois? Who am I?”
The older man tried to calm him again, but whatever conflict was driving him to such desperation would not give him enough peace for him to remain calm. With no other option remaining, the older man switched the spell he was using, and a moment later the desperate man fell into a sudden stupor.
“Keep him under sleeping spells,” the older mage instructed the younger man. “He is of no use to us until we determine what has happened.”
“What has happened, sir?” the other inquired, following his senior out from the room.
“Hopefully, Lois has died. Such a loss would neither be so unforeseen nor so irreparable as to cripple us, and we could easily replace him.”
“What if he has not died? What else could have severed the Balance?”
The older man stopped where he was standing outside of the cell, sighing softly. “Braving the curse of Metamor was always a risk,” he muttered. “The Three Gates caused us to lose two valuable members, and we made more of a mess cleaning up that mess than we have ever left anywhere before. If the Curse is at fault here, then we need to be careful.” He turned and looked at the young man seriously. “Keep all lines of communication open, and tell them to find out what has happened to Lois immediately. This is of utmost importance.”
“Of course.” The young man bowed and was gone before another word
could be spoken. The older man stared at the thick door before him. Lois had
been a valuable resource for many years, but now he could very well be the end
of them. They would have to be extremely careful to keep their interests secure.