[Mkguild] MK- A Pack of Secrets (2/13)

[Hallan Mirayas]

Text inside /  / is italicized.

-----

   Drift stood, his back against the wall, outside the door to Misha's office in Long House, and tried not to fidget.  Raven and Misha had been talking for some time, and Drift felt very conspicuous standing there waiting.  The yellow-eyed stares of the three young dire wolves grouped around him didn't help matters, either.  The rest of the pack was spread through Long Hall, but these three seemed to think it their job to keep an eye on the newcomer.  Their collective gaze unnerved him.  So Drift stood there and fidgeted, wishing Raven and Misha would hurry up with whatever they were talking about.

   Finally, he couldn't take it any more.  Glaring at a passing male gendermorph who couldn't quite hide his amusement, Drift growled under his breath at the trio.  "Stop staring at me."

   The wolf on the left, a slim black female still a bit gangly with adolescence, sat down.  The other two, gray- and black-marked brothers, merely blinked.  None looked away.

   "I said, stop it!" Drift hissed, louder, his ears starting to flatten sideways.  This time he looked straight at them.

   The middle brother, who looked like he'd be massive when he finished growing into his dinner-plate paws, yawned insolently.

   The entire group turned their heads as Misha's door opened and Raven and Misha stepped out.  "Thanks for the warning, Raven," Misha said.  "We'll be careful."  Once the Lightbringer had departed with a courteous nod and a sweep of her white robes, the fox turned his attention to the guarding wolves, who had resumed their threefold gaze.  "All right, you three, that's enough.  Drift is a friend, not food.  Go on."  He gestured with a shooing motion, and the three dispersed with an air of mild amusement.

   "I'm sorry if this throws a snag into your plans," Drift said, ears lowered slightly in apology.  "If I had my choice, I'd stay here:  I've got a lot of work to do."

   Misha put his hand on the samoyed's shoulder.  "So I've heard.  I'm notified whenever someone shows interest in the books on siege engineering in the library."

   Drift brushed off Misha's touch, leaned back against the wall, and groaned.  He put the fingers of one hand to his temple as if he felt a headache forming there and complained, "Not you, too.  Wolfram's been on my case all week.  Did you hear what he did yesterday?"

   "I heard he literally had to drag you out of the library."

   "By the tail, no less," rumbled a new voice, low in the bass register.  "If you had picked this up yesterday as we'd arranged," Oberon said as he approached, "that would not have happened.  Catch."  A thick metal rod came spinning through the air from the white tiger's underhand toss.

   It bounced off the fingertips of Drift's hasty, unprepared grab, and Misha caught it when it rebounded off the wall.  "So this is Whirlwind?" the fox asked, turning it in his hands to examine the complex etching along its length.  "Looks nice.  So how does it work?"  His eyes picked up a mischievous spark, and he pretended to rap it against the wall.  "Wait, let me guess.  You bang it against something to get it to extend?"

   "Not quite," Drift replied, holding out his hand with a look of mild amusement he might have stolen from the lupine trio.  Once Misha handed it over, Drift stepped away from the fox and tiger, held the metal rod out level, and tightened his fist around the center.  With a distinctive 'chik-chik-chak!' the weapon deployed to its full six-foot length.  The samoyed smiled and started to spin the staff, matching holes drilled through the ends making a whirring sound like blowing wind as the staff swung.  "Good.  Not too heavy, but not too light."

   Misha winced when Drift tested the staff by bouncing each end off the wall at a full swing, the metal ringing off the stone and echoing throughout Long Hall.  "Nicely made, Oberon," Misha said when the staff passed the test without bending or kinking.  "It's definitely up to your usual excellent standards.  A little noisy, though," he continued, rubbing his one ear.

   "That's by design," Drift replied, his tail wagging delightedly as he ran his hands over the metal.  "If I have to be quiet, I can fill the holes with putty or clay, but we both know I'm not exactly a stealthy combatant.  I might as well go for the distraction factor."  Grasping the center of the staff between both hands, he twisted it.  With a sharp 'shing!' a javelin-tip spike extended from each end, and then retracted when he reversed the twist.  The samoyed smiled.  "Excellent."  Collapsing the battlestaff, he spun it once in the fingers of his right hand and then slipped it into a long pouch on his belt that he'd purchased for it.  "I'll have the rest of your payment delivered to you before the next watch bell, Oberon.  Is that all right?"

   "That will do," the tiger confirmed before turning his attention to Misha.  "I regret that I have foul news for you.  It's been confirmed: Garan has what you call the measles.  Don't worry; I've already had it when I was young, but I need to stay home and tend him.  I won't be able to go along on the mission."

   "No need to worry.  Stay and care for your son," Misha replied.  "We'll be all right.  We've just picked up a replacement here that is almost as good with travel in snowy landscapes as you are.  Please give my best to Kristinai, and I hope Galen feels better soon."  Once Oberon had departed, Misha patted Drift on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow further into Long Hall.  "Come on.  I'll introduce you to your traveling companions for the next several days."  Turning a corner into a long hallway, he stopped at the second door and opened it, revealing a large room with six people, all involved in checking packs and equipment.

   "Laura!" Misha called out and waved his hand to draw attention.

   A woman separated from the group and joined them. She was tall and her shoulder length red hair was braided and bound close to her head. She wore a thick padded jacket and pants that were colored a fall camouflage of dull green, brown, and black.  A crossed bow and axe stitched in black decorated her left chest.

   "Laura," Misha said, speaking to the woman, "this is Drift Snow.  He'll be going with you on this mission."

   Laura frowned, and Drift furrowed his brow in puzzlement at her oddly concerned tone.  "Is it wise to be taking yet another civilian along with us on this trip?" she asked.

   "Raven insists," Misha replied levelly.

   "Hmm.  I see…  All right.  I remember him from the Harvest Festival party.  At least he won't have any trouble if we run into cold weather."

   Misha turned.  "Drift, Laura is in command on this mission.  You'll be under her orders until your return to Metamor."

   "Okay.  I've been on patrol before; I don't have a problem with taking orders."

   Continuing the introductions, Misha pointed to a short but muscular man checking the contents of a large pack.  "That's Ralls, the healer of the group.  I know you've kept yourself in good shape, but you'll likely be traveling harder than you've done before.  Let him know if anything starts hurting."

   Misha pointed next to where two canine morphs were hugging each other, tails wagging.  One had the black, white and tan markings of a border collie and was wearing the same warm clothing as Laura and Ralls.  The other had the black and brown of a beagle and little more than a short pair of breeches to keep him modest.  "The woman there is Arla.  For this mission, she is the most important person in the group aside from Laura.  She's the link between you all and the pack: she can communicate with the wolves as easy as you and I can talk with each other."

   "And the beagle?"

   "That would be her husband Skylos, saying goodbye," Misha replied, smiling as the pair nuzzled noses once more before separating, the beagle waving farewell as he departed.

   Drift recognized the massive form of the brown bear keeper Meredith, who was carefully examining the disassembled pieces of a massive crossbow.  Standing next to the bear was a young man who looked to be about fourteen or so years old. His clothing and armor seemed out of place on his young body, but Drift knew that Allart was older then he looked and a deadly fighter. The young man looked at Drift and scowled. "I remember hearing about you.  You're on a Task for the Lothanansi gods, aren't you?  Is that how Raven pulled you into this?" At Drift's nod, his scowl deepened.  "Yeah, I thought so.  I'd better make sure Ralls packs extra medical supplies."  

   Merideth looked up at Allart's tone, reached over, and swatted the youth upside the head (nearly knocking him over in the process).  "Be nice," he rumbled at the boy.  To Drift he added, "Welcome aboard.  Don't mind Allart; he's not happy unless he's complaining."

   This actually got Allart to smile a little, but he quickly squashed it.  In a tone that sounded suspiciously like a whine, the boy asked, "This one seems okay, I guess, but did you have to saddle us with that grumpy cat?"

   "You know why I added that one," Misha countered.  "The weather up in the mountains at this time of year is as changeable as the whims of a Pyralian princess, and I want somebody along who can give you warning if it's going to go foul."

   "Someone else to have to babysit besides the wolves?" another person grumbled. A brown rabbit morph was at work at a table off to the side, his long ears hanging down on either side of his head, dressed in the same clothes as the rest.  Six hand axes lay spread out on the table in front of him, being sharpened one at a time on an oiled whetstone.

   "This is important, Padraic," Misha replied, his tone frosty.

   "More important than tracking and killing lutins?" the rabbit asked.

   "Yes," Misha answered. "It's a lot more important.  This is for the survival of the wolves as a species.  The dire wolves are slowly dying out in the wild.  This might be their last chance for survival.  They saved our home last winter.  We should help them find a place of their own."

   Padraic thought about that for a few moments, lifting up an axe to the light and then putting it back to the whetstone when he saw his reflection in it.  "I can understand that," he said finally. "My people have been fighting for survival for centuries; first the Seuilman, then the Hordes, and now Nasoj."  He paused for a moment, propping his chin on his fist in rare contemplation, and then added, "I guess it just feels odd to fight for survival without actually /fighting/ something."  As if that admission made up his mind, he set down the axe and turned toward his boss.  "Tell you what…  put me down for something straightforward and involving a lot of fighting afterward, and I'll call it even."

   "Fair enough."  He turned slightly further in his chair and looked the white samoyed up and down.  "So," he said, "aside from being fluffy and indebted to the gods, what does Drift here bring to the party?"

   Before Drift could reply with a defensive retort, Misha beat him to it.  "You be careful about underestimating him," Misha warned the rabbit.  "He's more resourceful than you think.  I look forward to hearing how many times he surprises you when you challenge him to a practice duel…  I know you will eventually."  Misha paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  "He might even be able to help handle the mage we enlisted for the trip.  I'm told he hasn't taken the news of his recruitment very well."

   Drift flipped one ear back in dismay as he put the pieces together.  "Oh, no…  You drafted /him/?  He's going to be absolutely-" 

-----

   "Intolerable."

   Xavier's black ears lay nearly flat to the sides as he rode along on the wagon, the badly rutted road nearly jouncing and bouncing him off the seat.  "Drafted," he growled, clutching the seat with one hand while he pulled his cloak tighter around him with the other to ward off the cold of the morning.  "Drafted to be a glorified weather vane."  He glared at the cloudy sky for a moment as if it had betrayed him, and then hunched down in a sulk.  "Absolutely intolerable," he muttered, just before another sharp bump in the road nearly threw him entirely out of the wagon.  He grabbed his spectacles out of the air as they started to come off his face and then rounded with a snarl on the youth holding the reins next to him.  "Must you hit /every single one of them/?"

   The wagon was small; more of a cart, really, than a true wagon.  It had just enough room for the two riders and a covered bundle of supplies in the back, light enough to be pulled by a single mule.  That mule turned its head and, in spite of its more mundane heritage, fixed one eye on the noisy black leopard with as venomous a glare as any Keeper. The boy at the reins, however, took the jolts in stride and clucked his tongue at the mule to get it moving again.  "If you don't like it," Allart replied without turning his head, "you can always get out and walk."

   They were not on the main roads, but a narrow side road through the woods, not much more than an extra wide track.  The logging crews that normally used it were accustomed to a less opinionated cargo than food supplies and a cranky mage, so they didn't spend as much effort maintaining it as the Duke regularly spent on the caravan routes.  Drift walked just to the side of the wagon, at the edge of the trail where the ground was more level.  "Xavier, it's been at least three hours since we left Metamor.  Will you please give it a rest?"  Realizing that wouldn't be nearly enough to placate the sometimes prickly nobleman, and might actually irritate him further if given time to ponder it, he added, "Please, come down and walk with me.  There's something about your magic I've been wondering ever since we met, and now seems as good a time as any to ask."

   "Come down?" Xavier replied.  "And get 'greeted' by your entourage?  I think not- oof!"  A thick root in the trail interrupted him and sent him scrambling for a handhold.  Once he was secure, he snapped, "And what in the nine hells are you so cheery about today?  You haven't stopped smiling since we left the main road."

   "Has anything fallen from a window and landed in my general vicinity yet?"

   Xavier's brow furrowed.  "No," he said, stretching the word out slightly.

   "Has anything of mine broken yet?"

   "No."

   "Has the Watch been by to ask me where I was last night, what I was doing, and with who?"

   "With whom," the leopard corrected.  "Where are you going with this?"

   "Has anything bad happened to me at all?"

   "Drift."  Xavier's tailtip, already twitching in annoyance, threatened to start lashing.

   If Drift was at all concerned by Xavier's growl, he didn't show it.  "Answer the question, please."

   "No."

   "Then my bad luck has taken longer to find me today than anytime in the past three months.  Eli willing, it won't find me at all," he said, and reached over to scratch behind the ears of the young black-furred dire wolf walking next to him.  "I'm helping out on a Long Scout mission, working on my debt to Akkala, and making Wolfram crazy jealous all at the same time.  I'm getting paid Long Scout wages for a walk in the woods, those storm clouds in the mountains don't look like they're heading our way, and now that I found the perfumed scarf Alexis slipped into my bag, these three have apparently decided I'm better to walk with than to sniff at.  Life is good."

   The three young dire wolves from Long House trotted along near the wagon.  The two brothers, who had been introduced as Silent Stone and Cloud Walker (and whom Drift was still having trouble telling apart), were spread out forward and to the sides, while their sister Swift Shadow walked beside the samoyed.  The rest of the pack and the other Longs were arrayed in a rough circle around the wagon, out of sight, sweeping the area clear of any potential ambushers.  So far, it had made for an uneventful day.

   Drift eyed Xavier as the leopard went back to sulking.  Whether it stayed an uneventful day looked like it depended on whether or not he could distract one very grumpy cat.  "Why do you carry so much 'charged' metal, Xav?  Can't you just pull the energy out of the air?"

   Without turning his head, Xavier asked, "When you are working on a large project, Drift, do you gather the materials as you need them, or do you get them all together beforehand?"

   "Ah.  Good point."

   Xavier patted the belt around his waist, from which hung eight metal rods a little longer than the length of his hand.  "I am well prepared for whatever these next few days should throw at us."

   Something about that statement furrowed Drift's brow, but before he could comment on it, he was distracted by the sound of axes biting into wood.  He knew the sound well from his time hauling logs the previous spring.  "I thought the lumber crews were on the other side of the valley this time of year," he said, looking toward the wagon driver for confirmation.  The boy, however, looked just as surprised as Drift and Xavier.  Only belatedly did Drift notice that Silent Stone and Cloud Walker had vanished from their posts ahead and to the side of the wagon.  The samoyed Keeper laid his hand on Whirlwind, and he saw sparks start dancing around Xavier's fingertips.

   Thankfully, it didn't turn out to be a danger, just a tree fallen across the path, its base half-split and its top wedged in a tree on the far side.  Two Keepers, a man and a bear, were chopping at its half-split stump with the hand axes that Drift had seen hanging from their belts earlier in the day.  "Having trouble, Ralls? Meredith?" the young driver called out to his comrades.

   Both wood choppers took a break from their work.  "Hey, Allart.  Good timing." the man said, mopping sweat from his brow.  He took a swig from his waterskin, shook it with a frown, and held it out to the bear.  "Meredith, didn't you say you smelled a stream nearby?  Would you get me a refill while I see if they packed a bigger axe on the wagon?  Thanks."

   Drift stepped forward to offer to help, already shifting into taurform, but Xavier stopped him with a raised hand.  "Hold the mule, Drift," the leopard said, leaping smoothly down to the ground, his velvet black tail swishing with… excitement?  Something about the motion made the samoyed's fur frizz, but it took a moment for him to figure out what.  Then it struck him.  For the first time in the entire day, Xavier was /smiling/.

   "Xav?  What are you- Oh, /shit/!"  Drift's eyes widened suddenly as Xavier's rapier flashed from its sheath, and he lunged for the mule's harness.  As the blade came into line with its target and electricity started to arc through the basketed hilt guard, Drift shouted "Cover!" and pulled the startled mule's head in close where he could shield it from what was coming.  His arm came up just in time to shield his eyes from the lightning bolt.

   /Skrak/-BOOOM!!  Shattered pieces of wood scattered like shrapnel as the half-split stump detonated.  What was left of the smoking trunk swung down and out of the way, pivoting around its entangled branches, and left the road clear for passage.  Drift's ears rang as the thunder echoed back and forth off the surrounding hills.

   "There," Xavier said over the mule's panicked braying, turning away and sheathing his blade as blasted, blackened splinters rained down all around.  "Problem solved."

   Crashing in the brush heralded Meredith's return, along with a visibly startled Cloud Walker.  All were overshadowed by Allart's shout as the age-morph tried, with Drift's help, to keep the frightened mule from kicking the cart to pieces.  "Are you out of your mind?  You could've gotten somebody killed!"

   Nearly dancing to keep his feet out from under the mule's hooves, Drift reached for his dagger in its arm sheath, intending to cut the harness and get the beast away from the wagon.  The mule had other ideas.  It laid its ears flat against its neck and bit down on the samoyed taur's left arm, just below the shoulder where Drift's leather vest ended.  "Aooww!" Drift yelped, and pried unsuccessfully at its jaws.  He even dragged on its nose trying to get it to let go.  "Why, you miserable little- ow!!"  The mule started shaking its head back and forth, snorting with fury and dragging the taur painfully by the arm. "Well, if that's the way you want it," Drift finally snarled, drew his arm back, and punched the mule square in the head.  The animal staggered.  Its eyes rolled slowly back and it collapsed, out cold.  "Ungrateful brat," Drift growled, massaging his arm and picking at shrapnel pieces of wood caught by his thick fur.  "See if I ever try to save your worthless hide again."

   "Nice punch," said a new voice as Laura, the leader of the expedition stepped out of the brush, flanked by the rest of the Longs and most of the wolf pack.  "Now would someone tell me what in the hells is going on back here?"

   While Allart and Xavier argued their way through an explanation, the brown hare Padraic circled around and knelt to check the mule for injuries and get it out of harness.  "Nice punch," he echoed while Drift rolled the cart back a short distance in case the animal thrashed while waking.  The rabbit's ears rocked back and forth in a silent laugh.  "Have they been teaching new tricks in the basic training classes?"

   "No, but get in enough barroom brawls," Drift replied as he returned to the mule's side, "and you'll pick up some good close-quarters skills."

   "They weren't in any danger: I made sure all of them were clear before I started!"  Xavier's snarl jerked Drift and Padraic's attention back to the rest of the group.  The leopard, his ears down and his tail twitching, looked like he was at least trying to rein in his temper.  He took a deep breath, closed and then deliberately opened his hands with claws retracted.  "All right.  Fine.  I trust you to know your business, but if you don't trust me to know mine, then I guess I'll just have to settle for weathervane duty for the rest of this… escapade," he growled.  "The road is now clear, so the sooner we get wherever we're going, the sooner we can get back to decent civilization."  The touchy nobleman turned toward Allart and Meredith and, though it sounded like it was being ground out of him, apologized for his 'excessive exuberance'.  That done, he climbed back on the wagon and quietly stewed.

   "What's the matter with him, anyway?" Padraic asked Drift.  "Is he always like this?"

   Drift frowned, concerned.  "No.  He's had an occasional flash of temper, but nothing like this.  It's just been since his last visit home that he's been this touchy."

   "Bad news in the family, you think?"

   "I don't know," Drift replied, "and he doesn't welcome questions about it.  I was going to ask Alexis if she'd heard anything, but with the short notice craziness of getting asked along on this, it slipped my mind."

   "Alexis?"

   "Alexis Nightwind, my fiancée.  You've seen her, I'm sure.  She came to the Long Hall Ball with me last month at the Harvest Festival."

   Padraic whistled through his teeth.  "Yeah, I remember her now.  Wow, she had nice legs."

   The frankness of the remark flipped Drift's ears back.  "What did you say?"

   Padraic smiled ingenuously, his eyes sparking with mischief.  "What, you don't think she has nice legs?"

   Belatedly recognizing he was being baited, Drift replied with a snort.  "Very funny."  Nudging the mule with a forefoot, he changed the subject.  "Is he going to be all right?  I didn't hit him too hard, di- yow!"  The samoyed taur jerked his foot back just in time, barely a finger's breadth ahead of the awakened mule's snapping bite, and his body compacted back into its standard form as he got out of reach.  "Yeesh.  Are you sure that thing isn't part snake?"

   "Mr. Snow," Laura called out, "why aren't you riding the wagon?  We've got a long way to go and almost all of it is uphill."

   "I don't handle bumpy wagon rides well," Drift replied, rubbing the side of his neck in embarrassment when he saw Padraic start to smirk.  "After five minutes of this road, I knew it was either time to start walking or time to start heaving.  Don't worry, though.  I can handle it."

   And handle it he did.  True to his word, he was only a little sore when the group settled into camp for the night, in the shadow of a high rock outcropping.  Xavier was not so fortunate, and settled with a groan into the tent that Drift pitched for him.  The samoyed passed some cooked mutton and bread in after, and then settled down around the fire to eat and to talk with the Longs.  "May I ask where we're going now?" he inquired.  "Misha was a bit vague on the details.  Also, why is the entire Long House pack coming along with us?"  All around the circle, dire wolves chewed on bones left over from the three deer they had caught for their own dinner, or drowsed, or kept watch around the campsite.  The two young brothers, however, had settled down on either side of the samoyed, and each greedily eyed the half-finished leg of mutton still held in his hand.

   Laura glanced over at the pretty collie-morph sitting next to Drift.  "Arla, you were the first to propose this mission.  Why don't you tell him?"

   Drift's tail started wagging the moment she looked his way, thumping against Silent Stone and Cloud Walker's sides.  "Hey, a little room, you two," he protested, prodding them with his elbows.  Turning his attention back to Arla, he apologized for his distraction.  "I'm sorry.  You were saying?"

   The collie smiled in amusement at the trio's antics, but didn't comment on it.  "Last winter, during the Yule attack, these wolves came to Metamor as part of the attack force.  When they arrived, however, they decided Kyia's pantry was better to eat than the average Keeper was, so they switched sides and helped us defeat the werewolf that Nasoj had sent along with them.  After that, they lived with us Longs in Long Hall.  It was hoped that they would settle in and perhaps work with us to protect Metamor."  Arla looked down and stroked her hand gently through the neckruff of a dire wolf lying next to her, a relatively small she-wolf that had been introduced as Little Tail.  After a moment, the collie continued, and Drift's ears flicked at the note of regret in her voice.  "Unfortunately, with only a couple of exceptions, life at Metamor doesn't suit them.  They need open spaces and room to roam, and we can't provide that.  They were not meant to live in cities.  So… we're taking them to a new home."

   "Here?  This close to-" Drift asked, looking around just in time to save his leg of mutton from getting stolen by Cloud Walker on his left.  He jerked it away to the right, and then pulled it left again and then up just ahead of Silent Stone's attempt from the other side.  "Ha!"  Holding the mutton leg above his head, the samoyed stood up with a triumphant wag that lasted until their sister Swift Shadow, hidden in the darkness behind him, hopped up and plucked it smoothly from his hand.  "Hey!" he yelled, wheeling around just in time to see all three siblings dart off into the underbrush.

   Before he could take off after them, Arla put a hand on his side and stopped him.  She couldn't quite hide a smile amid the laughter around the fire, but she handed him another piece of mutton without comment.  "Not here," she continued once he sat down, and then pointed upward to the west, where the outline of the mountains could be seen by the stars that they blocked.  "Up there.  There's a small valley up in the mountains, where they can be safe and free, with plenty of elk and moose moving through for them to feed on.  For us, they'll also be securing our flank up there, which is better than they could do in the halls of Metamor."

   Drift looked up toward the dark mountains in dismay.  "All the way up there?  Eugh.  I am not looking forward to trying to get the supply wagon up there."

   "Don't worry," said Laura from across the fire.  "There's another team that's already been up there setting up supply caches for us, and they'll meet us on the way back.  We'll spend tomorrow sorting gear and waiting for them, and they'll take the wagon back to Metamor while we continue on."

   Drift thought about that for a moment and then, with a hopeful smile that brought more laughter from around the campfire, asked, "Will they take that mule with them?"
 		 	   		  
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