[Mkguild] Plain & Simple part 5

[Chris]

   George and Misha stood in the small anteroom. Around them were a
dozen keepers; men, women and animal morphs of a half dozen different
species. Some were putting on armor and weapons while others were
removing them. None paid any attention to the fox morph and the man with
the graying, light brown hair.

   “Where are you taking me?” George asked calmly as they walked through
the crowd.

   “The main armory. I thought you might like some better armor and
weapons before we go out,” Misha answered as he stepped towards a
doorway.

   George laughed. “I have enough weapons.”

   “Then how about some armor? I’m sure they have something better then
that rusty, old mail shirt to fit you,” the fox answered and stepped
through the door into another room.

   George followed close behind and found himself in a huge room! The
massive hall was at least two stories tall and seemed to stretch on
forever. Wherever he looked George saw row upon row of racks and
shelves, all filled with armor and weapons.

   “Impressive,” the man commented. “Even the Legion armory of Pyralis
wasn’t this big.”

   “You name it and we have it,” Misha explained.

   “What can I take?” the old bandit asked.

   “Whatever you want,” the fox said. Then he stopped walking and looked
at George whose face was lit up with delight. “Let me rephrase that.
Take what you want but you have to give it back when you’re done.”

   George scowled. “We’re going on a raid right?”

   “A revenge raid,” the fox explained and started walking again. “But
I’ll give you a tour of the northern part of the valley. That’s the
hardest hit.”

   A tall mule morph dressed in a blue shirt and pants walked up to the
two scouts. “Can I help you?” the equine asked.

   “A good pack, boots, rations for half a month, waterskin, a long bow,
a quiver full of arrows and armor,” George ordered.

   “What type of armor?” the mule answered unfazed by the man’s blunt
order.

   The man didn’t answer but turned to Misha. “We walking or riding?”

   “Walking,” Misha answered.

   “Chainmail,” George told the equine armorer,

   “Weapons?”

   George shook his head. “No. I have my own.” In his right hand was a
cutlass and in his left was another blade that was too small to be a
sword but too large to be a dagger. Both looked deadly and were razor
sharp.


**************


   It was dark by the time they made their way out of the Keep. The two
walked slowly through the dark and quiet streets of Euper. They moved
silently, neither of them talking. All the planning was done and both
knew better then to waste time with idle gossip. 

   Andre watched his friend walking off with the old bandit. He was
surprised how quietly they moved and the darkness quickly swallowed them
up leaving the wolverine straining his eyes in vain to make out their
forms. He had never liked George no matter how much Misha trusted him,
but there was little he could do except watch the fox walk off. Once
before he had watched the fox walk off into the night and he hadn’t
returned for over six months.

   Andre had know Misha since childhood and yet Misha had always managed
to surprise him. Still Misha had been in a dark and violent mood since
returning from Marigund. Maybe the old bandit would help temper his
friend’s violent moods. George certainly was a survivor. He seemed to
come through the worst situations unharmed.


***********************


   George stopped suddenly and knelt down in the middle of the road. He
ran a hand along the gray and worn stones. “How old is this?”

   Misha shrugged. “No telling but it’s probably the original Seuilman
stones and at least several centuries old. It originally ran all the way
north to the Giants Dike and beyond but now it only runs as far as
Tarrelton. After that it reverts to a dirt road and finally an overgrown
game trail.”

   George nodded. “Heading to the Keep I saw a group repairing the road.
That’s good. Means this Duke takes care of the small stuff. I’ve seen
too many nobles with huge palaces of marble and roads of mud and horse
crap.”

   “The roads in Marigund should be as well taken care of as Metamor’s
are,” the fox commented.


***************


   The keep was several miles behind them before George spoke again. “I
think we need to change our plans,” he said in a barely audible voice.
The two had stopped in a small grove of trees for a short break.

   “Oh? Where do you want to go?” the fox answered in a tone just as
low.

   “We go straight to the ruins and see the rest of the valley
afterward.”

   “Why?”

   “Because my instincts tell me it’s the most dangerous place in the
valley,” George explained.

   Misha nodded. He had long ago learned to trust George’s instincts.
They were always right. “But we’ll go through Tarrelton first. Then go
straight north to the ruins. On the way there we’ll get a good look at
the only road north to the Gaintdowns.” 


********************


   Tarrelton was average in size for a small village. A dozen wood,
waddle & daub houses huddled around an old stone tower. The entire group
was surrounded by a ten foot tall palisade of wood. It’s stout timbers
were pockmarked and cut in many places telling of countless skirmishes.
In earlier years it had been a home to a half dozen legionnaires who had
guarded the roads. Now the battered, old stone tower was a safe refuge
for when the raiders came. An all too frequent occurrence.

   “The walls look sound and I’m glad to see it’s patrolled well,”
George commented as they approached the only gate. “But there is no one
outside the walls. They need people in the fields surrounding the
walls.”

   “George there is only so much a village this small can do,” Misha
countered. “You are right thou. I’ve had good pickings here. I can
always find a few Lutins wandering around in the fields. They USED to
like shooting flaming arrows over the palisade but I broke them of that
habit.”

   “Good. Any good scouts here?”

   “I know at least one person by the name of Craig. We’ve gone lutin
hunting together several times,” Misha explained. “He is skilled and
patient. Just what we need.”

   “I want to take him with us when we go out tonight,” George ordered.

   “All right. I’m sure Craig will agree to go.”

   The town’s only gate was guarded by two people both dressed in
leather armor and carrying spears. Misha nodded to them. “Just visiting
with my friend George.”

   “All right,” one of the guards answered. She was a tall woman with
her black hair tied in a pony tail. “Things have been quiet here as of
late. You come to do more hunting?”

   The fox nodded. “Of course!”

   Both of the guards smiled and the two new arrivals walked into the
little town.

   The house was a small one made of timber and plaster both weathered
to a uniform dark gray color. Around the houses only door a number of
animal hides had been nailed to dry including a rabbit and one that was
probably a deer.

   Sitting on a bench out front was a prairie dog species Keeper. He had
the skin of a rabbit draped over one knee and was scrapping the last
bits of flesh and fat from the back. “MISHA!” he shouted upon seeing the
fox scout. He stood up and dropped the skin onto the bench and walked
over to the new arrivals. “Good to see you!”

   Misha and the prairie dog hugged. “Good to see you too Craig.” The
fox answered. He pointed to the old bandit. “Craig this is George.”

   Craig extended his hand and George shook it vigorously. “It’s an
honor to meet you George. Misha has told me so much about you. I’m glad
to finally be able to meet you face to face. Come in. We have a few
hours till sunset. Time for a meal.”


**************


   They didn’t leave Tarrelton the same way they had arrived. Instead
they slipped quietly out a postern so small that George was barely able
to fit through. Stepping from beneath the walls they moved silently
across the fields which were covered with waist-high grain. Each step
they took was carefully placed, each movement slow and deliberate,
designed to make as little noise as possible. Every noise, no matter how
small or trivial was the subject of intense scrutiny, studied and
analyzed to be sure no enemy lay nearby.

   They were almost the full way across the field approaching a small
grove of trees that stood close to the road when Misha suddenly stopped.
He motioned to George and Craig with both arms. Then he pointed to his
nose and then at the trees. The two nodded in response.

   The three of them dropped to the ground and crept along on their
stomachs moving even slower and more carefully then before. When they
had gotten closer George could make out a large shape on one of the
larger branches of a tall, pine tree. It was too large to be a bird or
any other type of animal and it was shaped like a human.

   The scouts crept closer and closer to the tree and its strange
occupant making no noise. Their presence wasn’t betrayed. They were
simply three shadows among many others in the dark field.

   When they were less then forty feet from the trees they stopped.
After several minutes Misha held up one finger. George nodded in
agreement. Just one lutin, probably a scout keeping watch for a larger
group of Lutins nearby.

   George heard the faint rustle of leaves off to his left and looking
that way he could make out faint shadows moving amidst the stalks of
wheat. The Lutins were stealing the grain. He turned towards Misha and
pointed towards the shadows.

   Both the prairie dog and the fox nodded in response. They had seen
them too. Misha nocked an arrow onto his bow and suddenly pulled his
torso upright, kneeling on the ground. An arrow flew from his bow and
the figure in the tree dropped to the ground without making a sound.

   George was angry at Misha for doing something so stupid as attacking
a lutin so close to a large group of them, but he couldn’t do anything
now except nock an arrow onto his own bow and wait to see what the
Lutins did. If they had heard their sentry die all three scouts would be
in deep trouble.

   Misha had judged correctly as the Lutins seemed to take no notice of
the death of their sentry and kept harvesting grain.

   Misha stood erect and slowly walked towards the Lutins. As the fox
moved past him George could see a dangerous feral look in his friend’s
eyes that unnerved him. George stood up, unsheathed his own cutlass and
dagger and stalked after his friend. Craig quickly fell in step with
George.

   The fox broke into a low trot hefting his massive battleaxe as he
moved. In spite of the speed Misha moved in total silence. He was a
barely visible shadow moving though the darkness.

   The Lutins didn’t spot him until he was almost upon then. Misha swung
the full five foot length of his massive battleaxe and cut the first
lutin completely in half. The two body parts tumbled in separate
directions as the fox raced past, already swinging Whisper again.

   The fight was over before George and Craig could get there. Most of
the Lutins lay scattered on the ground in pieces. The rest had fled
screaming into the night.

   “THAT WAS STUPID MISHA!” George shouted. “You’re not some stupid
axe-wielding barbarian. You had no way of knowing how many of them there
really was!”

   “This is a revenge raid George,” the fox countered in a hostile tone
as he laid his ears against his skull. “We’re here to kill things.”

   “This is no killing raid Misha,” George countered harshly. “You will
keep that axe of yours sheathed. We’re here to look around not get
involved in useless bloodletting.”

   “George . . .” Misha objected.

   “NO killing,” the old bandit ordered. “There’ll be plenty of time for
killing later. For now we are just looking around. Do I make myself
clear?”

   “Yes sir,” the fox said as he tucked his tail against his body.


***********


   It was a small thing that got them all worried. Most people, even
Lutins would have walked past it without noticing. But skilled scouts
like these spotted it instantly. The three were approaching a small
creek. The only bridge had long ago been destroyed so they were
approaching the closest ford. Close to the path leading down to the
water George spotted a small patch of ground about halfway down the
slope that had been worn smooth by recent use. A lot of use was needed
to cause that much wear. The problem was this trail led only to
destroyed towns and the abandoned fortress. No Keepers were using this
trail or had for months. That meant this trail was being used by the
enemy. Lutins and lots of them.

   “Go home,” George ordered the prairie dog. “We’ll do this alone.”

   “I’m not some child . . .” Craig countered angrily.

   “I know that but I don’t know you that well. We’ve never scouted
together. I have with Misha. Him and me have been doing this for a long
time. When I know you better we’ll fight together. Until then I don’t
want to take any chances.”

   The prairie dog nodded. “I understand. And if you don’t return at
least word will get back to the Duke.”

   “Of course,” George shot back.


End part 5

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