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Mythica, book 2, Chapter 2.
🕑 Added 2023-06-28 14:57:04 +0000 UTCChapter 2.
“No use hiding in there like a bunch of highwaymen, come on out and state your business. You don’t want me to come in there after you,” One of the armed men ordered.
“Hold on, we were just taking a breather, it’s been a long journey and we needed a rest, and a chance to figure out the lay of the land before we blundered directly into what looks like quite the battle,” Sabine said.
She waved Skrix and Orren forward as she left the cover of the brush. They needed to make contact with whoever was battling for the city at some point, and now was as good a time as any. They all kept their hands well away from their weapons as they stepped into view, and while cautious, the soldiers didn’t draw steel or attack them on sight.
“Shamrahar is closed, you best be on your way. We don’t need tourists. Get going before I decide to impose a personal road tax,” the leader warned as he glared at Sabine and her companions. All five of the soldiers looked a little worn out from their duties, but the one that led them had a harder edge to him. Sabine had known men like this before and had even commanded them. The wearier they got, the meaner they became, and more than once she had to intervene to keep her mercenaries from crossing the line after a long campaign.
“Oy, Sergeant Nichols, what is that thing?” One of the men said, pointing toward Skrix.
“That’s just Skrix, he’s with us,” Sabine said.
“I don’t care who he’s with, we don’t need no overgrown rats lurking about. Head back the way you came,” the leader of the group, apparently named Nichols, said.
“We’re here to catch a ship to Golgotia. Is there any way to access the harbor? I’m willing to pay,” Sabine offered.
“We’ve got a war to win, and talking with foolish travelers isn’t on the agenda. I’ll tell you one last time. Leave,” Sergeant Nichols ordered.
“Wait Sergeant, they said they’re willing to pay, maybe we should get them to pay for all our time that they’re wasting?” One of the soldiers offered.
“You know, Bradford, I think you’re right. Now that I get a good look at them, I think they might have something to contribute to the war effort. As a matter of fact, I could use that flail you have there on your belt, young lady. It’s far too heavy a weapon for a little thing like you to wield,” Nichols said as the five soldiers approached, hands on the hilts of their blades.
“Don’t forget the coins too, Sergeant. They don’t look rich, but I bet they have enough to pay for a drink or two after our patrol’s over,” one of the soldiers interjected.
“Aye, let me take that flail and enough coin for our troubles,” Nichols said moving toward Sabine. Unfortunately, she was going to have to make an example of this one, it looked like.
“I wouldn’t recommend taking my flail. It’s cursed and dangerous to anyone but myself,” Sabine warned.
“I’m not scared of some curse, and this thing looks like it’s valuable,” Nichols said as he reached for the flail. Sabine didn’t try to stop him; Reckoning would do that on its own.
“You four, stay your blades, what happens to the sergeant is on his head. I warned him,” Sabine said as the sergeant pulled on the handle for Reckoning, having some trouble untying it from her belt. With a tug that almost pulled Sabine over, the sergeant grabbed his prize, holding it up for the other soldiers to admire.
Sabine could feel it as the curse took effect. Her title, Zalzaran’s Bane gave her some control over the rot that was even now penetrating the sergeant’s hand. She tried to exert control over it, to keep the rot from killing the sergeant. The last thing they needed was open hostility with one of the two groups fighting over the port. She planned to choose sides at some point, but not until she had all the information that she needed to make the best choice.
As the flesh on the palm of his hand turned black with necrosis, the sergeant dropped Reckoning. He stood there grunting in pain and looking at the flesh slowly rotting off his hand. Sabine burned mana as she fought against the rot inside the sergeant’s hand. Her mana had trickled up to 12% from the brief rest, and she could only hold back the rot for a few moments.
The sergeant’s hand corroded further and when the white bones appeared under the dying flesh, they also started to turn black and crumble away. Sabine had to release her efforts at holding back the rot when her mana dropped to 10%, she wasn’t willing to go below that level given that there might be trouble with the other soldiers. Her efforts were enough to save the sergeant’s life, but he was going to lose that hand.
“Do you have any healers in your camp? Your sergeant will need to be seen to if he’s going to survive this,” Sabine said. She was used to commanding soldiers and death hadn’t diminished the command authority she had perfected as an officer among the various mercenary companies.
“What did you do,” one of the soldiers asked.
“I didn’t do anything. I warned your sergeant not to do what he did, but he ignored my warning and tried to rob us. Now, get him back to your camp and send someone in authority out here to talk to me. Let whoever’s in charge know that we’re mercenaries and might be looking for work if the price is right,” Sabine ordered.
“Take me back, hurry,” the sergeant grunted out, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggled against the horrible pain he must be feeling. The soldiers gathered up their sergeant and hurried back toward the main encampment in the distance.
“Sabine, what do we do now?” Orren asked.
“We wait and see who they send out here to talk to us.”
“Won’t they send more troops to attack us after what happened to their sergeant?” Orren said with concern.
“I doubt it. They’ll get the story from the other soldiers and realize people with powerful magic items are out here willing to talk to them. Normally, I’d give even odds that they would just try to kill us and take our gear, but after what happened to the sergeant, I think they’ll be a little reluctant to try and handle any of our gear,” Sabine said.
“Do we want to align ourselves with a group we know nothing about?” Orren asked.
“Maybe, but we need more information before we make a decision. I suspect whoever they send out here will try and recruit us, after all, we are mercenaries,” Sabine said.
“We are? What’s a mercenary?” Skrix asked.
“A mercenary is a soldier who fights for money. No, we’re not really mercenaries, but whoever’s in charge of the besiegers won’t know that. If they think they can hire us to help them, I bet we can get a better picture of things,” Sabine said. Her plan wasn’t a perfect one, but time wasn’t on their side, and they needed to figure out a way onto a ship as quickly as possible.
The soldiers made slow progress as they hauled Sergeant Nichols back to the main camp. Several patrols joined them along the way and then moved to keep a watch on Sabine and her party. Before long, a dozen mounted figures rode out from the camp. The group included ten heavily armored warriors and a pair that looked more like merchants or city officials.
“Hail, Councilor Emmet would speak with your group. Keep your hands away from your weapons and we will not be forced to restrain you,” one of the armored warriors announced when they were within shouting distance.
“We’ll talk with this Councilor Emmet, there’s no need for violence,” Sabine shouted back. One of the armored warriors dismounted with the unarmed pair of riders and walked over to Sabine. One of the unarmed riders was a rather plump looking man in well-tailored clothing. The other was obviously a servant or clerk of some sort, wearing simple robes and carrying a large tome along with a quill and ink.
“Greetings, I am Councilor Emmet of the city of Shamrahar. It seems you had a rather unfortunate altercation with one of our patrols. Care to explain what happened to, what has his name?” The ornately dressed man asked the clerk.
“It was Sergeant Nichols, Councilor, I show him on the rolls as a member of the town watch for over four years. One of the loyalists, sir,” the clerk responded.
“Thank you, Collins. Yes, as I was saying, young lady,” Councilor Emmet said, turning his attention back to Sabine. “You had a rather unfortunate encounter with the good sergeant and there was some mention of a cursed item? My guard also reported that your little group here are mercenaries of some sort. Perhaps we can come to an amenable settlement for this incident?” Emmet asked.
“Good to meet you, Councilor Emmet. I’m Sabine Giroux and this is Orren Cavendish and our companion Skrix. Your sergeant, against my warning, tried to hold my weapon. Unfortunately, it holds a rather odd curse and is only capable of being handled by myself,”
“Oh don’t worry about the sergeant, the other guards told me that you had given him fair warning. Please, call me Emmet, and confirm that your services are for hire,” Emmet asked. The clerk, Collins, whispered something into the councilor’s ear. The councilor turned toward Orren and gave him a questioning gaze.
“Excuse me, Mr. Cavendish, but my assistant here recognizes your family name. Are you perhaps a member of those famous scribes that supply Cavendish’s Compendiums?” Emmet asked.
“I didn’t realize my family reputation was so well known. Yes, I’m one of the Cavendish family,” Orren humbly said.
“Incredible, what brings you here to our troubled town, and in the company of mercenaries?” Emmet asked.
“We’re his escort, sir. Getting him safely to Tarasan in Golgotia where he has work to do,” Sabine said. Thinking quickly, she realized that using Orren’s famous family might be the best way to ingratiate them with one of the factions vying for control of the city.
“Uh, yes, Sabine and Skrix here are escorting me. I was hoping to catch a ship here, but it looks like things are a bit uncertain,” Orren said.
“I’d be happy to arrange transport, but unfortunately, all of our vessels are currently engaged in blockade duty. You see, a rather unfortunate incident has occurred in our city,” Emmet said.
“What kind of incident?” Sabine asked.
“Our city has been run by a council of equals for decades. One of our council members decided that he was going to seize power and declare himself king of our city. We, of course, rejected his proposal and things turned ugly. This so-called King Kazla fomented an uprising, and I and the remainder of the council are engaged in a conflict to retake our fair city,” Emmet advised them.
At least Sabine now knew the two players in the conflict. Maybe, if she helped them liberate the city, they could secure a ship to Golgotia. Given that Emmet seemed to want to be on friendly terms with the Orren’s family, this faction of the ousted councilors might be their best option to getting on a ship quickly.
“What if rendered some assistance to the council? If we help you take control of the city, would you be willing to free up a ship for our immediate use?” Sabine asked.
“If that is what Mr. Cavendish wishes, I we be more than happy to make that arrangement. That being said, I must express my concerns that single woman and a whatever that is can affect the outcome of this conflict?” Emmet asked. He was trying to be polite in front of Orren, but wanted to note his doubt in her abilities, and Skrix seemed to completely disgust the councilor.
“I can assure you, Councilor Emmet, that Sabine is a well-respected warrior and has more experience than you would think. Skrix here is an excellent scout and a valued member of my protection detail. If you merely tell her what you need and put some forces at her disposal, I’m sure she can push the tide of battle in your favor,” Orren claimed.
“On your word, I shall employ her and her companion to support my forces. We have hired several mercenary groups, and there are some that are now leaderless. Why don’t we do this. Sabine, I’ll place you in command of those leaderless troops and give you a task to prove your worthiness,” Emmet said.
“What do you need me to do, and how many troops are we talking about?” Sabine asked.
“It’s a small number of troops and there is one task that has vexed me. The city wall has changed hands several times and we only control a small section of it in between the breaches. It’s too small an area to push our troops through and the enemy has us bottled up,” Emmet told her.
“Wait, what about the breaches? The whole reason you create those is to make a path into the city, isn’t it?” Sabine asked. Emmet might have doubts about her abilities, but he wasn’t exactly impressing her as a tactical mastermind. Whatever cushy job he held in their council hadn’t prepared him to wage war.
“Those have proven problematic. The enemy has built a second layer of defense inside the city that covers the breaches. They’ve turned them into a meat grinder, and I can’t afford to lose too many troops. Somehow, the usurper is getting fresh troops in. Our sea blockade was broken a few nights ago and before we could close it off, several ships arrived, likely full of troops and supplies for our foes,” Emmet said.
“Fine, let me see the troops that you want me to lead and give me some time to observe the enemy. After that, I’ll see what I can do,” Sabine told the councilor.
“Very well, while your protection detail goes about its business, perhaps we can have a conversation about your family work. While we are outside the city, I’ve managed to keep a rather well stocked larder to entertain any important guests such as yourself,” Emmet said, ignoring Sabine as he led Orren back to their main encampment.
“Here, I’ve signed a writ granting you authority over the mercenary remnants. I’m sorry to say that you may find them a bit reluctant to engage in battle again. They’ve taken heavy losses and are refusing to fight. They’re currently in the stockade to the south of the camp. Good luck to you,” the clerk, Collins, said. He was in a hurry to get rid of her and get back to Orren, the man obviously happy to have another scribe to speak with.
“Well, Skrix, let’s go see what we’ve gotten ourselves into,” Sabine said as she led her verminkin companion toward the encampment.
