Caroline couldn’t sleep. She lay there for a while and tried to relax and get some rest but she just couldn’t. There were too many things running through her mind. Finally she gave up on sleep and stood up. She spotted Edmund in one corner, lost in prayer. Finbar and Danielle were sitting close to each other and talking quietly. That didn’t surprise the otter. Those two had hardly left each others side since the Yule attack. It made her smile to see those two so deeply in love. It reminded her that this life was for more then just fighting and killing.
The remainder of her group were all asleep except for Padraic. The rabbit morph was the sitting in a corner with his back against all quietly working on something. Caroline walked up to Padraic and sat down next to him. He had his bow in hand and was carefully oiling it with a small rag. This weapon was far different from the bows most of the Longs used as it was highly decorated and obviously very valuable.
“What’s her name?” the otter asked motioning to the bow.
“His name is Shirragh ny sperriu. That means Sparrow Hawk,” Padraic answered. “He has been in my family for over three hundred years.”
The weapon was made of light and dark colored wood layered horizontally giving the bow strips like a zebra. Inlaid into the wood in gold was a fantastic array of free flowing patterns that reminded him of those on Eldrid’s armor. The tips were of ivory inlaid with gold and silver and were as highly decorated as the rest of the bow.
“It’s beautiful,” she said admiring the bow.
“He was a gift to my grandfather for service to the old duke,” the rabbit explained as he took back the bow. “It has been embellished and improved over the years.”
“I’ve never seen it’s like before,” she commented.
“It has served my family faithfully over the years just as my family has served the Dukes,” he said giving the bow one last swipe of clothe.
“How is your leg?” Caroline asked. During the battle for the ford in the aftermath of the Yule attack the rabbit had been badly burned on his leg by some sort of fire breathing wolf.
The rabbit rubbed the thigh of his right leg. The hand lightly brushed over the spot where the fur was gone and bare, pink skin showed through. She couldn’t see any real signs of burning, but the skin looked new and the fur still had not grown back. “It’s fine,” he answered. “But it does itch occasionally.”
“The Lightbringers did a fine job of healing,” Caroline said examining his leg. “What did it cost you?”
“Cost?”
She traced her finger lightly over the freshly healed skin. “This much healing is never done for free. The Daedra always want something in return.”
“Long has my family been faithful to the Old Ones,” Padraic intoned coldly as his eyes narrowed. “They do not charge those who have shown their faith in strong ways.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you Padraic but the Lightbringers have never been overly generous to anyone I know. They saved Kershaw’s life but at the cost of years of service to Akkala.”
“They can be harsh sometimes but nothing in this world is free,” Padraic countered. “Would you prefer to ask favors from the Daedra?”
The otter shook her head. “I understand that the reason for requiring payment for healing but often the cost seems . . . Steep. It’s cost them many faithful over the years.”
The rabbit nodded in agreement. “It has. Even among my own people the new beliefs have taken away many of the faithful. But among my family the old oaths and bonds remain.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she asked changing the topic of conversation. “Why didn’t they make you pay for healing your leg?”
“Does it matter why?”
“No but I am curious. After all we otters are famous for being curious about everything.”
Padraic laughed openly. “In the past my family rendered a great service to the Old Ones. My ancestor Cuthein the Rash who was the third fastest person in Alamar defeated an Avatar of Klepnos in single combat.”
“An impressive feat. No wonder Akkala was so willing to heal you with no cost,” Caroline exclaimed.
“Often has my family and clan done good things for the Old Ones.”
“Your family are nobles aren’t they?”
The rabbit nodded. “We have been leaders of our people since before our ancestors came to this valley.”
“Living under Loriod must have been difficult.”
“It was but we survived. The clan always survives even the worst things,” Padraic said. “Even if some of the family don’t,” he finished sadly.
Caroline could understand how he felt. The physical wounds from the Yule tide attack might have healed but the emotional ones were still open. Everyone had lost someone in that attack.
Looking around the room she saw Misha slowly enter and walk across the floor towards them. There was a frightened look about him. As if he was scared of something.
“Excuse me Padraic I have something to do,” Caroline said as she stood up. Quickly the otter morph headed towards Misha.
The fox saw her coming and paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing forward.
“Honey,” he said softly and hugged her tightly. “I love you.”
She kissed him on the muzzle. “I know that. But that axe . . . “
He silenced her by placing his hand over her muzzle. “Please let me say this before I loose my nerve.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I am aware of her hold over me. It’s part of the bargain. Great power demand great responsibility. But I also know I cannot use her forever. This is my last great adventure with the axe. I can feel that in my bones.”
Misha fished around in his pocket before he found what he was looking for. “I’m tired of all the fighting and excitement. I want to settle down and enjoy a life that doesn’t include bloodshed and warfare. I want to spend my life with you,” He said simply and held up his hand. In it was a ring made of gold and mithril twisting into intricate patterns. It was topped by a beautiful green jewel that sparkled in the light.
Some part of her mind recognized that she was looking at something that cost thousands of gold coins but Caroline’s mind was fixed on Misha and the words he said next, “Marry me?”
Caroline couldn’t speak as her wits fled. Elation and unbounded joy surged through her and she finally managed a short squeak as she threw herself onto Misha and wrapped both arms around him. She showered him with kisses and hugged him again and again before she stopped and looked him in the eyes. She saw a face full of love and passion and fear. He was afraid she would say no.
“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “A thousand times yes.”
“All right!” Misha called from the center of the room. “Everyone came close and I’ll offer you some explanations.”
He waited quietly till everyone had assembled around him before he started to speak. “We’re at the edge of Metamor’s control even flying were at least a week away from Fenwood where we start walking. From here we will be flying at night mostly and avoiding and cities or towns. Thankfully there are few large towns north of Caralore.”
“Once we’re past Caralore we can fly in the daylight,” Philip suggested.
“Will we be seen?” Misha asked.
The griffon shook his massive head. “If we fly high enough most people won’t see us. And the Giantdowns is covered with overcast. We fly can above the clouds and no one will see us.”
“What about flying low to the ground?” Misha asked. “We’d be even harder to spot.”
“And a lot easier to kill if a dragon or a drake attacks,” Philip explained. “We need height and speed.”
“Speed is life,” Marian intoned as if repeating an old lesson from class which she probably was.
Philip might have expected a fight from Misha but the fox just nodded in response.
“No argument on that?” the griffon asked.
“No. I don’t claim to know everything about flying. As a matter of fact today was the first time I ever flew.”
“You’ve never flown before?” the griffon asked, surprised.
Misha shook his head. “I’m fox not a flying fox.”
“Till now we’ve always walked here,” Caroline explained.
“You walk here?” Marian asked he voice filled with amazement. “It must be a weeks walk from here to the Keep.”
“Ten days,” the otter commented. “twelve if the weather is bad and it usually is!”
“The weather’s ALWAYS bad,” Finbar added.
“Why so long?” Marian asked.
“We can’t just walk in the open,” the ferret explained. “We have to duck, dodge and hide from everyone.”
“What happened if you ran into trouble you couldn’t out fight or hide from?” Marian asked. “Who could come to your rescue?”
“No one,” Caroline said in a faint tone. “No one could have helped us.”
“You asked me how we would escape from Nasoj’s citadel,” Misha said interrupting the conversation. In his left hand the fox was holding a round bundle about the size of a large book tightly wrapped in cloth.
“Not all the magic I have access to is ancient and mysterious but it can still very powerful,” Misha said cryptically. “Remember David?”
“The ant?” Caroline asked. “I haven’t seen him since the Yule attack.”
“Good reason for that. He was hurt pretty bad and spent a lot of the time recovering. But he was well enough to help me a little and give me a nice little gift. Two in fact.” He patted the bundle with one hand. “This is the best,” he said and unwrapped the bundle. What he revealed was a gold disk only slightly larger then the hand that held it. Running around the edge was three sets of runes. In the center was circle that held two more runes. Misha turned it over revealing that there was one rune carved there large enough to cover the whole side.”
“Back last September when David arrived at Metamor he used a disk like this to save Arla and her team when they were cut off and trapped,” Misha explained. “It saved all their lives. He was nice enough to make another one for me. David keyed this to The Sentinel.”
“What is the Sentinel?” Ferwig asked.
“It’s a stone column about a mile or so from the Keep,” Misha explained.
“No one knows how old it is but some say it’s as old as the Keep itself,” Finbar added.
“It’s close to the Keep but outside the Keeps protective barriers,” Rickkter commented. “A good destination for the spell.”
“Will it work in Nasoj’s citadel?” Teria asked.
“It will. It was used once before with complete success. I don’t see why it shouldn’t work again.” the fox answered. “But it only works one way – back to the Sentinel. I’m sure once Nasoj realizes how we got in and out he’ll change things so we cannot do it again.”
“So we only have one chance at this,” Rickkter added.
“One is all we need,” the fox countered.
The attack came suddenly. The group was flying along quietly and seemingly alone in the sky. Misha was enjoying the rare moment of peace as he looked around. The only thing her could see in the sky was the other keepers flying along with Philip. The griffon had remained mostly quiet except when he absolutely needed to talk to Misha. The fox had been expecting it. Things had gone peacefully and without any problems for two days. He knew it was too good to last.
SQUAWK! The sound roared from above them and a large shadow suddenly blotted out the sun above them.
“BREAK!” Philip and banked hard to the right and down so violently that Misha was thrown hard against the griffons neck. If he hadn’t been tied into the saddle he would have fallen out.
A massive shape thundered past them the wind in it’s wake sending Philip tumbling for a moment before the griffon recovered.
“What was that?” the scout asked.
He looked down towards the shape and saw a massive, winged reptile slowly dwindling in size as it dropped downward. As he watched the shape leveled out and then started to slowly climb back towards them.
The other four flying keepers appeared and fell back into a ragged line behind their leader Philip.
“That’s a drake,” Philip explained answering Misha’s question. “Not the largest I’ve ever seen but still very big.”
Misha looked at the reptile which was rapidly getting closer and closer. The creature was massive. He estimated that it had a forty foot wing span and must have weighed many tons. “You’ve seen ones bigger then that?”
“Yes and all just as hostile as this one. And before you ask. NO we can’t beat it. They are known to kill dragons.”
The drake was climbing fast and quickly reach the same altitude as the Keepers but the climb had taken time and the Drake was far behind his targets.
Misha looked backward and saw the massive form of the drake behind and slightly below them. It seemed to be closing the distance between them at a rapid speed. Leaning forward he speaks into Philips ear, “Can you out fly it?”
The griffon makes a hard bank to the right then dove suddenly as Misha clung to the saddle. “No,” came the griffons shouted answer. “Not carrying all this weight.”
“All right,” the fox scout answered. Looking back he could see that the drake was closer then it had been before. “You’ll have to drop us off here and then run for home.”
“How?” the griffon asks, his voice barely audible over the rushing wind. “If I stop to land he’ll drop on me.”
“Skim low over the ground,” Misha explained. “I’ll have to jump and hope for the best.”
“You could be killed!” the griffon exclaimed as he tried to fly faster.
“Would you rather I stay and we BOTH die?”
Misha looks off to his left where he sees the form of the dragon carrying Caroline and two others. With a wave of his hands he catches sight Caroline’s eyes. He motioned downward with both hands together. Then he motioned downward with his left hand and upward with his right. The otter nodded in understanding and then leaned forward to talk with the dragon herself.
It took Misha several long minutes to get the attention of the others in the group and tell them what he wanted to do. With each passing moment the drake was getting closer and closer. Its massive form getting larger and larger the closer it got.
“We’re ready,” Misha said to Philip. “We need to do this in one pass. Skim low over the ground and I’ll roll off.” He pointed to a large open field that was about a half mile ahead and slightly to the left.
The griffon nodded. “Hold tight this will be a rough ride.”
Philip didn’t fly towards the field instead he kept going straight ahead until they were almost past it. Then Philip banked hard to the left and dropped straight towards the ground.
Misha felt an adrenalin rush as the ground rushed up at them and he instinctively grasped the saddle harder. When it seemed they would slam into the ground the griffon suddenly pulled up and leveled off. They were flying barely ten feet off the ground which was racing past at an impossible speed.
“Be ready,” the griffon warned. “We’ll be on the field in a few seconds. I’ll slow down a little when it’s time.”
Misha untied the ropes that held him into the saddle and made one last check of everything he was carrying to be sure it was all secured. The griffon dipped suddenly even closer to the ground and slowed down noticeably. He patted the griffon on the neck. “Good luck Phil,” he shouted and then jumped clear of Philips massive beating wings.
He tried to curl himself up into a ball and hit the earth rolling but he struck the ground hard and was sent tumbling head over heels. The earth, grass, weeds and plants spun around in his vision as he tumbled over and over until he slammed into something hard and came to an abrupt halt.
Coherence returned to Misha slowly. The first thing he felt was pain. Every part of his body seemed to throb and ache. Opening his eyes the fox morph found himself looking up at the worried expressions of Caroline, Finbar and Matthias.
“How do you feel?” Caroline asks in a voice filled with concern.
The fox scout slowly sat up and was rewarded with a whole host of new pains but none were so bad that he couldn’t ignore them. “Everything hurts,” Misha answered honestly. “But I don’t think anything is broken. How is everyone else?”
“About the same,” Finbar answered. “Lots of bumps and bruises.”
“It was a rough landing,” Matthias commented. “But we all got through it.”
“Good. Anyone see what happened to Philip and his people?” the fox asked.
Caroline shook her head. “No. They all took off headed south with the drake following close behind.”
“They’ll do all right,” Caroline commented.
“No one saw us arrive,” Rickkter said as he walked up to the group. “But we can’t stay here.”
“Agreed,” Misha answered. “Where are we exactly?”
“Twenty miles north of Fenwood,” Finbar answered.
Misha stood up slowly trying to ignore the aches and pains. “It’s only a three day walk to the first meeting point.”
The darkness did as much to conceal Misha as the thorny shrub he crouched in. Peering out from between the broad leaves he studied his objective. His breath misted in the chill air. winter had yet to give up it’s grip totally this far north, and he kept his breathing shallow so that it dissipated quickly.
The field before him was fallow and untended. Nature busy reclaiming the land that had been wrested from it. Yet the pasture was still recognizable by the rotting posts of the one-time fence, and the ramshackle barn that crouched like a shadow near at hand. The barn was his target, and he had inspected it closely, yet it didn’t seem to be anything but what it looked like, a rotting vacant structure in a forgotten field.
He turned his eyes upwards, watching the moon. Just as he had gotten into position, it had come out from behind the cloud cover, and he was waiting for it to be obscured again before continuing. The more he examined things the more normal and unthreatening they seemed, and the more he was certain he was being watched.
Finally the moon disappeared, the night swallowing everything up again as he crept from his hiding place. To the right, a shadow detached itself from the gnarled snag of a fallen tree. The shadow that was Finbar moved to join him, moving catlike and in nearly total silence. A whisper of motion on his other side caught his attention as he turned to find Caroline crouched on his other side, another shadow, with just the slightest glint of eyes to show she was studying the barn with a touch of her own suspicion.
As quick and silent as shadows themselves, they crept into the darker shadows of the barn’s near wall. Misha led, with Finbar right behind him, moving as one with his commander to bracket the door, daggers poised for trouble. A distant rumble of thunder was the only noise to break the silence.
Caroline shifted around the corner and knelt. The long bow she was carrying tracked across the visible arc as she tucked her back into a chink in the wall, almost melting into the shadows there imperceptibly.
As Finbar tried the door, which opened so soundlessly that everyone was tense as a bowstring. That hinge should have creaked, should have stuck… a well-oiled door on a ramshackle barn got everyone’s hackles up. But it didn’t stop them, Misha plunged into the darkness, Finbar a step behind. The door closed quietly behind them as Caroline stood watch.
The darkness inside the barn was nearly complete only the errant shaft of moonlight, as it came back out from behind the clouds again for a moment and found chinks and cracks in the wooden structure to shine through. The streams of hazy light dimmed a moment later.
Misha used the brief illumination to catalog the shapes and shadows along the left side of the barn, knowing as he did so that Finbar was doing the same to the opposite side.
“My name is Omelio,” Misha said to the seemingly empty structure. “I’ve come about the sheep.”
“You’re late.” The voice was soft and cold and seemed to come from nowhere in particular.
“We had a few hang-ups on our way, I’ll be annoyed if you have nothing for me.” Misha responded lightly, even as his eyes darted here and there… this guy was good. He couldn’t pick out the direction of the voice.
“You risk more then a little annoyance by coming here,” the voice continued; now tight and more then a little menacing. “ You’d make a fine prize for Nasoj if his men knew you were here.”
Misha growled a little. “ Show yourself.”
A dark shape seemed to melt out of the darkness near the back of the barn. Cloaked, cowled and masked. “Very well, ‘Omelio’. I hope what you’ve come for is important, because if it isn’t, you might find leaving hard. We don’t take kindly to being put at risk.”
Misha felt Finbar bristle at the implied threat. He touched the ferret’s shoulder lightly, feeling how tense Finbar was. He also felt rather then saw the sharp nod from the ferret, and felt him relax just a little.
“What shall we call you… friend?” Misha asked, emphasizing the final word as he tightened his grip on his dagger, concealed under the edge of his cloak.
“You call me nothing. I have no name, no identity. I was never here and don't exist, you get me?" The shadows voice was sharp and cold; the words barked out with a tone of subtle command that made Misha arch his eyebrows.
“As you wish, nobody-to-whom-I-am-NOT-speaking,” He responded, letting amusement tinge his voice. “You obviously got the message that was sent, else you wouldn’t be here. Did they tell you the reason?”
The shadowy silhouette didn’t move. “No, all the message said was to be here, and that it was important. And so here I’ve been, two nights in a row. So maybe you can tell me, what is so important that I am risking exposure and execution?”
Misha nodded, “ Nasoj has stolen something very important, and we have to get it back immediately,” he responded gravely, fighting back the gnawing ache that thinking of what was stolen caused him.
The spy snorted quietly. “ What? Did Thomas lose his crown jewels?” He mocked quietly.
White hot anger blazed up suddenly inside Misha, and he choked down a howl of rage with difficulty, swallowing it like bile as he forced his jaws to unclench. “They stole… Whisper.” He grated out tightly, glaring at the figure across the expanse of dusty floor.
The spy was quiet for a long moment. His next words almost caused Misha to lose his composure completely. “Am I to understand that you have come all this way, THROUGH enemy lines, probably leaving a trail of slowly freezing corpses all the way. Put ME and MY ENTIRE group at risk of exposure… for an axe?”
“NOT just for an AXE you black-masked bastard! This is WHISPER! In Nasoj’s hands it could be put to uses you can’t even COMPREHEND!” Misha took a menacing step forward and shrugged off Finbar’s hand as it clutched at his shoulder. He clenched his hands into fists so hard they hurt as he tried to reign himself back in. It took him a long moment to realize he was snarling as well.
The spy looked singularly unimpressed. He had casually shifted position, parting his cloak to free his right arm. The blade he held winked and glittered in the gloom, it was somewhere between the length of a dagger and a short sword, cruelly curved, and wickedly serrated. A blade designed to do one thing, and to do it well. It was an assassin’s tool, made to leave wounds that if they weren’t fatal, rarely healed fully or quickly. His voice remained as chill as the steel in his hand, and twice as threatening.
“Maybe, maybe not. From what I’ve heard, no one but you can wield it and live. So how exactly it profits Nasoj to have it I don’t really know. Beyond taking it away from you, and perhaps say… setting a trap for a certain brain-dead fox when he makes a rash attempt to retrieve it? Give me a reason to get my people mixed up with this spectacular suicide you’re planning!”
Misha felt his teeth grind together as he fought back the rage that threatened to engulf him. “By command of Duke Thomas, you have been ordered to provide any and all aid possible to assist us in accomplishing this mission,” he bit out, then glaring silently at the spy.
“I have been denying orders from Thomas and his lackeys for nearly eight years now. And he has always respected my authority. So as far as I’m concerned, you can take that bit of offal and take it back to Metamor!” The spy barked back at him.
The roar of fury that escaped Misha as he closed the distance with the assassin was barely out of his mouth before the barn door banged open hard enough to slam against the inner wall. Belatedly remembering where they were, Misha dropped into a crouch as he whirled, dagger at the ready. To see Caroline handing her bow to Finbar who fled the barn to keep watch as she shut the door. Every short, chopped off movement displaying her anger even though she was utterly silent in her actions.
She rounded and stalked to Misha’s side. “What in the nine hells do you think you’re doing?!” She hissed quietly, gripping his shoulder and pulling him down to be eye to eye with her. “The entire valley can hear the two of you yelling at each other! If you’re trying to alert any patrols to our presence, you’re heading in the right direction!”
Misha grimaced... feeling hot blood suffusing his face as he stammered softly, the sudden heat of his embarrassment stealing his thoughts away as he realized how out of control he was getting. But Caroline had let him go, the otteress rounding on the other shadowy figure in the barn as he stepped forward.
“Most patrols from Nasojassa do not come out this far,” the spy interjected smoothly, “But you are right, M’lady. This is neither the time or place for an argument.”
Caroline shook her head. “We have traveled far, no doubt weariness is making us unreasonable. We would appreciate any shelter your group could provide us tonight, until we can discuss this in more civilized manner.”
Misha felt a sudden stab of resentment at how swiftly the Spy’s bearing had changed once he was addressing Caroline. But a warning glance from his lover both made him bottle that up, and reassured him that she had noticed it to. He suppressed an impulse to grin now, realizing she was playing the spy’s game, letting him win the round to get them to the next.
The spy nodded quietly, “Then we should go, it is a ways further before we can find safety. Our people know of your group’s number, and a place is prepared to accommodate you where you will not be found.”
Grumbling softly to himself about this high-handedness. Misha stepped back as the spy brushed passed them to the door, cautiously opening it and peering out. Between one breath and the next he melted out into the shadows with a gracefulness that made Misha’s opinion of him grudgingly move up another notch.
Creeping out himself ahead of Caroline, he motioned Finbar to cover their
exit as he and Caroline followed their guide towards the tree line. Once they
were clear, they turned to watch Finbar creep away from the barn, and slink
into the forest at another point.
The ferret morph was heading back to the rest of the group, informing them contact
had been made, and getting them ready to travel.
Misha leaned back against a tree, keeping his eyes and ears scanning the surroundings as his breath fogged silver in the air. One way or another, he vowed, he would get what he came for.
It was almost sundown when the last of the riders led their horses into the stable. After Days in the woods riders and mounts alike were weary and looking forward to a good meal and a warm place to sleep. Terrant and George stood by the stable door and carefully watched everyone as the filed past. The patrol had been long, cold, wet, tiring and boring. Three days of walking and riding in the mud & snow without even the slightest sign of any trouble. No Lutins, no bandits, not even a single dire wolf out hunting. Everyone it seems had decided to stay at home except for them. As boring as it had been Terrant wasn’t upset or disappointed she was happy to have gotten out of the Keep and into the countryside. At least while patrolling she was doing something and it kept her mind off of the curse and it’s effects.
George nodded as the last horse was led in. “That’s the last one Terry.”
She nodded in agreement. “All are safe and sound back in the Keep.” Terrant leaned against the wall. In spite of the lack of combat the days in the saddle coupled with nights spent sleeping on the ground had been exhausting. The worst was the weather. The weather seemed to alternate between snow and rain. And always there was a stiff, cold wind blowing that seemed to seep through the thickest clothing and chill a person down to the bone. Like all of the soldiers her mind was on a hot meal and a warm, soft bed.
“And you were worried about something happening,” George joked.
Terrant laughed as she scraped her boots against the edge of a cobblestone to remove the mud from them. “Seems I worried over nothing.”
“I told you everything would go easy. Just because the bodies changed a little doesn’t make you any less a leader.” He pointed into the stable where the soldiers with removing the saddle and tack from their horses and rubbing them. “None of them had any problems following your orders.”
She smiled at that. “What orders? There was nothing to give orders for. They all knew their tasks and did them.”
“And so did you,” George answered as he poked her in the chest right between her breasts. “All of you needed this little ride to get back to normal and it worked.”
“True. To be honest I was hoping that something would happen to break the monotony. And let me work out my frustrations.”
The jackal morph shook his head. “Nope. Still too cold out for much raiding. Only ones we would have run into were the desperate ones and those rarely fight very well. But how about a good bath. Then a good meal with a fine wine and we can talk about the patrol.”
Terrant nodded in agreement. “A bath and a hot meal sounds great.”
“Good Terry! Now you see to your people and I’ll see to mine,” The jackal patted the woman on the back and then turned and walked off at a fast pace.
“The name is Ter . . .” she started to say but stopped and looked at the retreating form for a moment. “Never mind,” she said to herself then turn and went about caring for her own horse and the people under her command.
Misha stared down into the guttering flame of the tiny oil lamp. All around him the smell of cold earth lingered in the cramped cellar he and his people occupied. Other scents were present too. This cellar had stored onions at one time and the smell of them permeated the room along with the faint tang of vinegar... perhaps for pickling, or it could be spilled wine?
He closed his eyes, picturing the room, as it must have looked from what the scents told him. Strings of onions drying where they hung from the rafters, the vinegar smell was stronger along the far wall, he pictured a barrel or two there… no… a stack of them. One had leaked, accounting for the lingering smell.
Opening his eyes he let the picture in his mind fade into what surrounded him now. Straw strewn over the hard packed floor, huddled mounds of sleeping Longs, a bale of hay against the wall serving as his seat, and a rickety three legged stool held the tiny copper lantern.
The room was barely large enough to hold his group with any shred of comfort. He clutched the bow in his hands tighter, leaning back against the wall. Their ‘host’ had brought them here, through a winding, twisting tunnel that he told them his people had painstakingly dug nearly half a mile in length. In eight years, they had done little to enlarge it, only shoring it up against cave-ins. An escape route, if all went against them.
At the entrance they had been greeted quite warmly by a very large crossbow in the hands of a very small man. A murmured password from their guide had relaxed this able guard, and they found themselves in a small, cozy little room, stacked thick with supplies, weapons, and gear of all types.
An hour later, they were ensconced here with assurances from their host that they were quite safe. He had taken Caroline and Misha up a narrow set of steps cut into the earthen wall and lined with rough-hewn slate and into the main cellar. The entrance to their little hideaway was concealed by a stack of ale casks on a rack, a rack that cunningly did not rest on the ground. Instead, two iron hinges were camouflaged against the wall, bearing the weight of the pile, allowing it to swing out from a hidden catch.
Satisfied that they were not to be discovered, they had returned to speak with their people. The spy had headed up then, counseling them not to expect him back that night. He must be present at certain events to leave no room for suspicion of his activities.
And so Misha waited, having arranged watches based on their little lamps oil supply. It would burn for only two hours, and then would need to be refilled. Looking at it’s reservoir now, he saw his watch was nearly over.
Sighing, he found the copper flask of oil, and deftly refilled it. Setting the bow aside he stood, suppressing a groan as his knees and back popped. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, suddenly aware of his biting fatigue. How long had it been since last he slept? Suddenly, he couldn’t figure it out, and that rankled. Too long he decided.
Taking the short sword that leaned against the wall in easy reach, he leaned out and very lightly, tapped the sole of a boot that protruded from under a bundle of cloth and leather. The pile swung up into a sitting position, cloak and pack falling to the ground with a whisper of movement as Rickkter stared at him. The blank gaze in those masked eyes slowly warmed as sleep fled, and the dagger that had appeared in his hand returned to its sheath.
The raccoon smiled minutely and nodded. Getting to his feet and shaking off sleep, Misha clapped him lightly on the shoulder before shifting as silently as possible to where Caroline lay curled in her blankets. As he lay down beside her, she turned, nestling against his chest. He wrapped an arm gently about her slim form, struck once again at her beauty in even the simplest of actions. A soft kiss against her forehead as he held her close, wrapping his cloak about them both, before sleep finally claimed him.
Terrant climbed out of the bath and made her way over to where her towel and clothes rested. After being in the hot water the air felt cold on her nude body as she stepped across the marble floor. It was a small room, one of the private rooms available and it let her bath in peace. It also spared Terrant having to show her body to all the other bathers in the main bath. Her naked, woman’s body.
She tried not too look at her own body as she dried herself off. Terrant found it hard to look at her new body. To distract herself Terrant pondered how things had gone over the last few days.
It had been a long, boring patrol made all the worse by the lack of combat to break up the monotony of rain, snow and mud. Still she was very pleased with how things had gone. In spite of all her worries and fears the troops had handled themselves well. Everyone was awkward and nervous at first trying to get used to their new bodies and their abilities. But soon everyone had lost the awkwardness and fallen back into their old routines. In spite of the changes people hadn’t changed all that much. Mallary had been lagging behind like he always did. More interested in the local plants and wildlife then in his own safety. And Gregory flirted with every woman he came in contact with. It didn’t seem to bother him that the month before those women had been men.
Terrant looked into a mirror set on one wall. She pondered the image that was reflected back at her. This was the first time she had worked up the courage to actually look at herself since the change. It was such an alien image, a soft and lovely looking woman. When he had been a man he would have openly courted and flirted with a woman this beautiful. From a strong, powerful man he had been reduced to a soft and helpless woman.
The woman put her on her stomach and ran it lightly along the ragged scar there. Terrant remembered the battle he had gotten that in. A small fight to protect a bridge from raiders. She examined it closer but it looked the same as it had for the last five years. The curse hadn’t changed that at all.
She flexed her right arm and saw the small, dark spots there halfway between her elbow and her shoulder. Those skin marks had been with Terrant since birth and the curse hadn’t changed them either. Also plainly visible was the strong muscles under her skin that flexed and moved as her arm moved. They were the same muscles that the man Terrant had built up over years of practice and exercise. This was really still Terrant’s body she admitted to herself. The magic hadn’t just changed it a little. She could still wield a sword as effectively and Brea her horse hadn’t been bothered by the change. The mare had acted like nothing had happened.
“It’s not a bad looking body,” she said out loud trying to make herself believe it. “Edmund is right. I’m lucky I wasn’t reduced to an infant. Still I would have preferred to be a leopard or a wolf.” Slowly Terrant started to get dressed when a sudden thought occurred to her. What if the curse had made him a pig or something truly strange like an ant eater? She shuddered at the thought of eating bugs for the rest of her life. An even worse thought occurred to her. The curse could have just as easily made him into something truly disgusting like a scorpion or a dung beetle. With one last shiver she dressed quickly and headed for her meeting with George.
The second meeting was a lot more calm and open then the first. The spy had returned suddenly the next evening. Misha, Caroline and him went off to a room that had been carved out of the earth in one side of the tunnel they had entered through. It was a small room that was empty except for a simple table.
“We have done some investigating about this,” the spy said calmly standing some ten feet from the fox. “I am certain that the axe arrived here about a week ago. Now explain to me why it is so important to retrieve your axe that you’d risk over twenty lives”
“This is WHISPER,” the fox said trying to remain calm.
“And this means what to me?” came the flat answer.
Misha let out a guttural snarl. “Whisper is a Runic weapon,” the fox said angrily. “And a very power weapon. In his hands he can do an incredible amount of damage.”
“I’ve heard rumors of that weapons power. Nasoj has shown an interest in it in the last few months.”
“And you didn’t bother to tell us? Give us some warning?” Misha growled.
“I hear a lot of rumors and Nasoj is interested in a lot things. Plus since that Yule attack failed he’s increased security to an incredible level. Getting any messages in or out is next to impossible.”
Misha tried to control his anger. The spy was in a very dangerous position and every move was a dangerous one. “You can’t imagine just how powerful it is. We need to get Whisper back fast!”
“Why? I know the loss of something that powerful is serious but its not worth risking peoples lives on a hopeless attempt to get it back. Nasoj can’t even touch the weapon. No one can except for you. That makes the blade worthless to him. If we wait a few months or perhaps a few years he will forget about it and we can steal it from some vault or armory.”
“The blade isn’t worthless to him,” Misha countered trying to contain his anger. “He already has some use for it in mind.”
“How do you know that?” the masked spy asked.
“Because I didn’t just accidentally loose the axe in combat. Nasoj stole it. He deliberately ambushed me and then took the axe.”
“They could have been trying to kill you but when they failed they took the axe instead.”
Misha shook his head. “No. I was helpless and they ignored me and took the axe.”
“The theft was not a spur of the moment thing. It was very well planned. They even brought a large cart to carry Whisper in,” Caroline interjected and she went on to describe the ambush in detail.
The spy was quiet for a very long time. Misha kept silent and left the man with his thoughts. Any further words on his part would only make things worse.
“Nasoj went to a lot of effort to get that weapon and he must have something very important in mind if killing you Misha was not important,” the man said softly. “He has wanted you dead for a long time.”
“Nasoj wants a lot of people dead,” the fox countered. “And he hasn’t succeeded yet. What I want to know is what does he want Whisper for.”
The spy nodded in agreement. “If he put that much effort into getting the axe it must be for something very important.”
“Stopping anything Nasoj is doing is always good,” Caroline commented. “And that means getting the axe back.”
“Any idea where it would be?” Misha asked.
“Probably in the Citadel if it’s as powerful as you claim it is. Nasoj would keep such a powerful weapon close to him at all times.”
“Then we need to get into the citadel.”
“Impossible!” the figure countered. “Getting past the guards and wards is impossible.”
“Wards can be dispelled and guards fooled,” Misha commented. “If we know what we are dealing with. All I need is information on how to get into the citadel. Once inside my people can do the rest.”
The spy was quiet for a moment. “I’ll need time to gather that information. You might get in but I can guarantee you won’t get out.”
“I already have a way out,” Misha answered.
“How?”
“Some of the most powerful mages in the world live at Metamor Keep. All a lot more powerful then Nasoj.”
“If they’re so powerful how is it they haven’t defeated Nasoj yet?” the figure asked.
“We have defeated him. Twice. But like a bad rash he’s hard to get rid of permanently,” Misha commented. “Someday I’ll cleave his skull in two.”
“If I don’t poison him first,” the mysterious figure countered.
“I like how you think,” Misha laughed but then grew serious. “Nasoj can’t keep the axe. In his hands it’s extremely dangerous. It’s dangerous in anyone’s hands but mine. But especially so in his. He cannot be allowed to use such power. If the axe is in the citadel then I need to get in there too. By any means possible.”
Philip shook his head. “The only way into the citadel is thru a portal in the dungeons of Dubhar Tur. That means getting past the guards and wards at the towers only door. I’m sure you could kill the guards and dismantle the wards but the doors can only be opened with a special command word. And that word is only know to the Captain of the guard.”
“Can the doors be forced?”
“No. They were forged with daedra help. Or at least that’s the rumors I’ve heard. I know for a fact that it involved the blood of three hundred people sacrificed just for the purpose.”
Misha shook his head. “That mans evil never fails to amaze me. Is there any other way into the tower or citadel?”
“None that I have found in seven years of looking. No windows and only the one door. No other openings what so ever, not even a drain or an air vent.”
“You’re not making this any easier,” Misha said in an annoyed tone of voice.
“You act like this is a game,” the man snapped.
“Hardly. I am aware of just how deadly this is but I have no choice. We HAVE to get in.”
“You cannot sneak in and you can’t fight your way in.”
“That leaves only tricking our way past the guards. What do they do when someone comes to the tower door?”
“The guards stop the person some twenty feet short of the door and ask them their name and what business they have inside,” Philip explained. “While that is happening the person is being examined by powerful spells. If the spells find nothing wrong they are asked for the pass. If a person passes all those tests they are allowed entrance into the tower.”
“What’s in the tower?” Misha asked.
The figure shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Nasoj seems to change the interior defenses constantly. Everyone whose gone through reports something different each time. Only one thing never changed. The portal itself was always in the basement.”
“No way of telling what’s inside?” Misha asked.
“No, but the last reliable report I have says the interior was just one large empty room.”
“Empty?” Misha asked.
“At least it LOOKED empty,” the spy commented.
Misha shook his head. “THAT worries me. Something has to be there. Knowing Nasoj it has to be VERY powerful and nasty.”
“Agreed,” the man answered as he nodded his head. “The guard inside used to be his Druzhina but he has growing ever more paranoid and secretive lately. Probably the only one who knows what’s inside Dubhar Tur is Nasoj himself.”
“My thinking is it will either be undead or a summoned creature.”
The man nodded in agreement. “And something whose loyalty can be controlled with magic. But there is no way to know exactly what.”
Misha shrugged. “We’ll just have to be prepared for anything,” the fox answered. “Not much else we can do.”
“I will try and get information on the interior but I doubt it will be any good.”
“Can’t be helped. Dubhar Tur is in the center of town isn’t it?” Misha asked. “That means getting past the town gate and the guards there.”
“Yes but gaining entrance to the town will not be a problem. No matter how many guards he has Nasoj cannot completely stop all traffic in and out.”
“Makes sense,” the fox commented. “People in a town can’t stay behind locked gates forever. Food has to go in and garbage has to come out.”
“We can easily slip you past them among the daily traffic going in and out. The problem will be the tower itself,” the human said forcefully. “I don’t see how you can force your way past without warning the entire garrison and Nasoj himself.”
“Two weeks ago we ambushed and destroyed a group of Druzhina near Caralore,” Misha admitted in a soft tone of voice. “I doubt that word of their death has reached here yet.”
The man pondered for a moment before answering. “No it hasn’t,” the spy replied. “The Druzhina are spread pretty thin as of late trying to strong arm people into staying loyal. Groups of them have been gone for months at a time. So their failure to return quickly is not unexpected.”
“Would such a group be given easy access to the town?” Misha asked.
“Of course. Their loyalty isn’t questioned.”
“Much.” Misha commented.
The agent nodded in agreement. “They have proven themselves loyal to Nasoj. Even now they faithfully carry out his orders.”
“If we were to disguise ourselves as this group it would get us into the town and perhaps the citadel itself,” Misha commented.
The masked person shook his head. “No. There is powerful magic at both gates. Any disguise would be seen through and any illusion would be easily stripped away in moments.”
“If such a disguise did work what else would be needed?” Misha asked ignoring the agents objections.
“No disguise or spell can survive the wards guarding the gates,” came the counter.
Misha snarled loudly showing a muzzle full of sharp teeth. “That’s for me to worry about not you. Now what else would be needed to gain entry.”
“Even such a disguise were possible to get into the entrance tower you would still need a citadel pass,” the spy explained forcefully.
“I know,” Misha countered. “I’ve seen parts of such a pass before. But I’ll need one or a good forgery.”
“Getting that will take time.”
“How long?”
The disguised figure shrugged. “We’ve been trying for the last few months to make one since we lost our only contact in the citadel.”
“How long?” Misha insisted. His tail thrashing back and forth in agitation.
“A day or two at least.”
“Get it,” Misha ordered flatly.
“How can you use it?” the spy asked.
“That’s for me to know. Not you,” the fox answered.
“I HAVE to worry about that. You get caught and it will put me, my family and everyone I know at risk.”
Misha didn’t speak but just stared at the cloaked figure. “You knew the risks when you became a spy.”
“That’s unacceptable,” came the angry answer.
Misha’s ear lay down against his skull and he bared his teeth in a snarl. “I don’t care what you find acceptable or not GET ME THAT PASS!” Misha shouted.
“Misha,” Caroline said softly. Misha looked at her for a moment and calmed himself.
Misha turned back to the spy. “Get me that pass and don’t worry about us getting caught. We won’t be.”
There was silence for several seconds. “All right. But I’ll need three days.”
“Fair enough,” Misha commented. “Next meeting will be here?”
“No. It will be at the second site in exactly three days. One of my people will lead you there”
“All right. And when you come you’d best bring some help. Andwyn gave me a lot of supplies to pass along to you. Over forty pounds of stuff.”
“Good,” came the voice, softer this time and from further away.”
“A map!” Caroline said. “We could use an up to date map of the town.”
“Good suggestion. Ours are a bit out of date.”