Herb Quest Pt. 04: Fate of the Few

Authors note:

This occurs six months after the events in 'Live to Ride'.

Prologue:

The crystal goblet tumbled end over end as it flew through the air, a trail of blood red wine droplets splattering on the stone flagged floor, crimson breadcrumbs marking the path of its flight. The soft tinkle as it collided with the far wall of the room was almost inaudible over the ragged angry breathing of the man who had set it on its way.

With a furious twirl, his long ermine robes billowing about him, he flung himself back into his high-backed chair to face once more the two figures seated opposite him.

To one side, a pale faced servant shuffled his feet nervously. He was unsure whether to begin cleaning up the shattered crystal, thereby acknowledging the fit of pique he had just witnessed. A soft feminine hand raised, catching his eye and the shooing motion of its fingers sent him, happily, scurrying out of the room. The soft boom of the door closing behind him echoed through the room he had just fled.

"If you are quite finished!" Queen Bea said, not bothering to mask her irritation now that the servant had been dismissed. "I left my children in my kingdom precisely to avoid such tantrums."

"Tantrum!" King Patric began to retort in a shrill voice before he mastered himself. "Tantrum." he repeated in a tight controlled tone, "I lost two hundred men dead and wounded just this week. And for what? Eight dead bull men, these Minotaur's, and a few score dead Orcs. My kingdom can ill afford such pyrrhic victories."

"No more than any of our kingdoms can." Queen Bea agreed. "The loss of a tactician such as Caryll or a mage like Margo to the centaurs hurt us even more. Soldiers can be replaced far easier than experienced magic users or competent leaders."

"If I may?" King Tonar interjected softly. His fellow monarchs fell silent as the King of the Middle Realm rose from his chair, striding confidently towards a large map, newly commissioned, that hung from the wall nearby. He had twenty years on both Patric and Bea and his wisdom was about the only thing on which the others could agree.

Tonar lifted his arm, slowly indicating the newly built fastnesses that now dotted along the mountain range to the north of all three of their lands. Before, these would have been on the southern slopes, but through blood and determination, the human forces had finally secured the majority of the mountains, cleansing them of the Orcs, Goblins, Giants and now Minotaur's that had inhabited them. These new fortifications now lay on the northern side, a new boundary, the edge of what seemed to be a vast new frontier.

"We began this conflict in defence of our lands, then we carried it into the mountains in an act of retribution on those who assaulted our peoples. Now we find ourselves on the verge of a war of conquest." He paused to allow either of them to disagree with him but they remained silent.

"Merchants, bounty hunters and adventurers have poured northwards seeking fame and fortune and have accomplished...nothing. For all the loss of life, we know very little about what may face us. We've garbled reports, crudely sketched maps, approximated distances." On this last point he fished out a rumpled piece of parchment and read aloud 'about two days on a donkey from the hill that looks like a whore's tit to the big sticky up rock'. He raised an eyebrow as Queen Bea stifled a laugh behind an upraised hand before he turned his back on the map, facing Patric and Bea.

"What we do know is that ignorance will kill us as quickly as a blow from a sword. Had we not received intelligence from Alice then none of us would be alive today. Without the report from the bounty hunters, we wouldn't have known of the existence of the Minotaur race. And what of the Minotaur's? The report from...Bria I think she was named...would indicate that there is far more than the half dozen your men fought this week. But where are they? Where is their homeland, their cities, towns, villages?"

"We need information." King Patric said.

"We need maps." Queen Bea said.

"We need explorers." King Tonar replied in agreement.

"Explorers?" Patric asked, rising from his chair to fetch a fresh goblet. He filled it with wine and faced Tonar once more. "Explorers? Like those map makers slaughtered alongside the Mage? All that was achieved was a decimated cavalry troop, a missing commander and a very dead magician."

Tonar nodded his head, accepting Patric's point. He walked back to his chair, pulling out a battered leather-bound tome that had been wedged into his seat.

"This is an account of my great grandfathers. He describes specialist scouts that were used in his grandfather's time when our people first came to these lands. Single riders, lightly armed and armoured, small in stature but quick in wits. Relying on the speed of their mounts to escape trouble. Tasked with riding the land, not in search of wealth, nor even for the herb all here crave, but of tracks, roads, civilisation, landmarks, geographical features...anything and everything that can be used to fill in the blank emptiness of that damned map behind me. I propose we form a corps of exploring officers...men and women chosen for this task. Let us halt all further incursions into the unknown until we have some clue as to what lies ahead. After all, as you said yourself Patric, our kingdoms can ill afford any more blood-soaked victories."

"Why waste time training these, these Exploring Officers that your forebearer described. We all have scouts in our forces, why not utilize them?" Patric asked.

"If I may?" Queen Bea asked. She had risen to her feet and approached the map, shrewd eyes taking in the dispositions indicated on it. King Tonar nodded to her and she continued. "To train a scout well takes years and those that we have are even more valuable in that they have all gained combat experience these last few years. Losing them, even with the prospect of further information on our enemies would be a poor exchange. They will be better employed in the future when our forces are on campaign. We can however use them to impart some of their skills in training this new corps of troops. I would also suggest that we raise a single force of these explorers, combine our efforts and naturally share all information gathered."

King Patric's animation had lapsed into a more thoughtful stance and as Queen Bea finished speaking, he raised his goblet in a salute to her.

"Agreed." he said.

"Aye, agreed." King Tonar echoed. Queen Bea moved to join the two men and clinked her goblet against theirs.

Chapter One:

Deva stopped walking, giving a light pull on her horse's bridle to bring it to a halt. Dawn was fast approaching, and she decided to take a minute to rest while she waited for the sun's arrival. She scratched her mounts nose affectionately, well aware that his weariness matched her own and that even this short rest would benefit him.

Kurt, the scout sergeant assigned to train her group of volunteers for the Exploring Officers positions had snorted in mock disgust when he had stood before her on the parade ground on her first day's training. Even Deva had to admit to herself that she didn't exactly cut an impressive figure as a soldier. She stood just four feet eleven inches high in her boots, losing over an inch when she was barefoot. Her body was pleasantly plump, a side effect from her three years of service as a Quartermasters assistant for a cavalry regiment, most of her duties confined to clerical work. Her blonde hair was longer than regulation length and her big blue eyes shone with the innocence of a young woman who had yet to experience the terror of a battlefield. Before her first day had ended she was left in no doubt that her previously pampered military career was over, Kurt lopping her hair off with a knife until she was left with a short bob hairstyle, her blonde tresses scattered at her feet.

The following two months of training had toughened her up considerably. Most of that had been spent on horsemanship, tracking and survival skills. Deva had needed little instruction in basic cartography and note taking unlike many of her fellow recruits. While her stamina had increased and her idle plumpness had given way to a softly curved frame, she still lacked the lean hardness of the other soldiers and scouts she came into contact with.

Kurt had been surprised with her progress, offering her the occasional compliment during her training, but he had taken her aside the night before she was to be dispatched on her first exploration mission to offer some words of advice. He had requested she remove the cavalry sabre she wore at her side, the long, curved sword had always felt clumsy in her hands, its blade too long for her tiny frame. He had given her a long hunters knife, twelve inches of razor-sharp steel, to replace the sword. As Deva had strapped the knife to her belt, he had spoken to her in his usual manner, short direct sentences filled with good advice.

"Forget the sword, if it comes down to hand to hand combat then you are already a corpse. Stay alert, always check your back trail. You need elevation to scout but be sure to keep a low-profile crossing ridge lines. If you are spotted, don't panic. Fear is a sure killer. Think, you are probably the smartest in this group, so use your brain. Don't just flee blindly from the enemy, evade. If you have to travel at night, walk the horse, don't ride it. Take care of your mount, he'll be the difference between you getting home or rotting in the northern wilderness."

He had gripped her forearm then in a warrior's handshake before stalking off into the night to check on others in her group.

Deva shook her head trying to refocus. She had become lost in her recollections, her eyes fighting to remain open. Tiredness, exhaustion was dulling her senses. She pulled her canteen from where it hung on the saddle, splashing some water on her face to reinvigorate herself. Fastening it back in place, Deva noticed that the first pale rays of sunshine were spreading from the eastern sky. She'd obviously been caught up in her memories for longer than she'd thought.

She pulled herself up into the saddle, needing the extra height for what came next. Her eyes raked across the landscape. In the wavering light of the new day, she found it hard to make out fine details. Maybe she had finally thrown off her pursuers?

Nothing, nothing...wait...wait...there! Fast moving figures just crossing the ridgeline, still a few miles back but gaining ground on her. She clicked her tongue and urged her horse onwards, heading south, hopefully to refuge.

It seemed she had been trying to lose her pursuers for an eternity but it had only been since the evening before. Deva had spotted some fresh spore on the trail she had been following, recognising it from her training as belonging to Dire Wolves. She had immediately left the trail and started off south, hoping to skirt the packs territory. An hour later though she had heard a faint baying carried to her by the wind from the north. Beneath her, her steed had shuddered in instinctual fear and had picked up pace without her direction. She had given him his head, trying to use the rapidly fading light to pick a path. She had continually checked behind her and as darkness fell Deva heard the pack howl once more, further off though, fainter it seemed. She couldn't be sure though, couldn't rely on inexperienced optimism to be a sound basis for her decision making.

Assuming the worst, she had dismounted. The darkness made it too dangerous for her to continue riding, her horse breaking a leg in a rabbit hole would doom her. So instead, she led him through the night, guided by the faint glow of the moon and stars.

Dawn had broken and she was riding as hard as she could due south, the mountain tops were just a smear on the edge of the horizon, many miles yet to the south. Even then she had become so twisted around during the night she wasn't even sure there was any outposts nearby. But with each mile she travelled closer to the border there was an increased chance that she would come into contact with a cavalry patrol.

A friendly force of troops was now her only hope of survival. The pack was closing in on her. She knew this despite resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. The sounds of their pursuit had grown louder with each mile, she felt that at any moment she'd be able to hear their snarls as they drew alongside her. The horse Deva rode was shattered, the poor beast labouring for breath but gallantly pounding onwards, it's flanks lathered in sweat and foaming spittle dripping from its mouth.

Another mile passed, they crossed a stream, the low bank of which almost proving impossible for the horse to clamber up. Deva knew that he was finished, but there was one last task he might perform for her. She dismounted quickly, tearfully rubbing her hand down his neck, patting him and offering him her thanks for his efforts in getting her this far. She moved her canteen and slapped him on his rear, releasing him into a slow trot. He followed the path beside the stream, south east and so she headed off south and west, praying that the pack would follow the horse instead of her.

Deva made it a half mile before she heard the snarl of an approaching Dire Wolf. Her hands trembling with fear she drew her long knife, looking around for a tree or rock to put her back against. She was under no illusion that she could defeat even one Dire Wolf, never mind a pack. But she decided that the very least she could do was go down fighting, perhaps the Gods would look down on her stand and judge her kindly in the afterlife.

She sensed them before she saw them. Four bone white furred creatures, over four feet high at their shoulders. They approached her from each cardinal point, moving in unison around her, a slow, padding wheel of snarling destruction. Deva's head whipped from side to side as she attempted to keep them all in her line of sight but it was impossible. The ring tightened by degrees, now they stalked around her, inches outside the reach of her blade. One, a female Deva judged by her size, seemed to stiffen as if preparing to pounce. Deva whispered a quick prayer to whatever God was listening at that moment, steeling herself to meet the attack.

It never came. From the east there was a deep howl that arrested the four circling wolves in their tracks. Moments later two more wolves loped into view, both of them with blood splattered maws that Deva knew signified the end of her brave mount. The aggressive female said something in their language and was answered with a rough response by one of the newcomers. His response and general air of dominance denoted his position as the Alpha in this pack. He moved closer to Deva and she could smell the coppery tang of blood on his breath as he drew to a halt inches from her.

"Drooppp kniiife." he said, a too long tongue hanging from his mouth as he mangled the words. Still, it was a clear enough message and she opened her hand, the long-bladed knife falling to the ground.

The Alpha trod softly around her, Deva shuddered in fear as he pressed his nose against her armpit and then her rear. She heard him snuffling loudly as he drew in her scent. When he had completed his circuit, he sat back on his haunches contemplating her. She could see the intelligence in his eyes, all the more unnerving when framed by his bestial blood drenched face.

"Taaake oofff..." he scratched at his own chest with a back paw, "oofff ahhrmooore."

Deva hesitated, in confusion rather than refusal, then as she understood she put her hands to the buckles holding her light leather breastplate in place. This quickly followed the knife to the ground, leaving her in just her forest green tunic, brown hose and boots.

The Alpha made a panting sound, his humour evident from the wide stretch to his mouth complete with dangling tongue.

"Yoou nowww Chaaattall. Yoou slaaave. Yoou folloow nowww, noo follooow yoou fooood. Yesss?"

She didn't trust herself to answer, merely nodding. As the pack set off at a slow pace, she found herself at the center of the group, the hunger in the eyes that tracked her scaring her to her very core.

Chapter Two:

By the time the Alpha drew to a halt, Deva's face was streaked with tears of exhaustion. Her fear had gradually subsided, weariness and an ache in her feet displacing it. Their route had led them back towards the north and they were now at a small hillock, the Alpha sitting by a rough cave entrance barely three feet high. To one side, a trickle of water ran from the top of the hill, the beginnings of a stream perhaps. A forest began less than a mile away but the rest of the area was flat and unremarkable as much of the land she had been charting had been.

"Insiidee." The Alpha ordered.

Deva crawled inside the cave, surprised to find the interior was much bigger than she'd imagined. The cave was maybe ten pace wide, as many deep and the roof was slightly domed and perhaps twelve feet high in the center. Even in the dim light from outside she could see the faint signs of tool marks on the walls, the cave had been carved out of the rock, but by who and for what purpose she couldn't begin to guess.

It was early afternoon but all Deva wanted to do was sleep. She crawled, standing up seemed beyond her, to the far wall of the cave. When no Dire wolf followed her inside, she closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep, only bone deep tiredness allowing her to slip into unconsciousness.

A few hours later, she awoke to the low rumbling growl of a wolf, echoed and amplified by the cave. She jerked upright and huddled against the wall in fear. In the middle of the chamber stood the Alpha and the hostile female wolf. At the Alpha's feet was a small heap of what appeared to be foliage.

"Chaaattall neeed fooood. Eaatt." came his faltering explanation.

He moved to leave but stopped when he saw that the female hadn't moved. Deva didn't need to understand their language to know that what he barked at the female was a clear reprimand. However, she stood her ground, never taking her yellow eyes off of Deva.

"Not Chattel, she food. Gral need to heed Shetha's words." the female said clearly, her mastery of the human language shocking Deva. The Alpha, Gral, pointedly moved so that his bulk was between Deva and Shetha. There was no more talking, just a rising palpable tension until Shetha lowered her head slightly in acknowledgement and left the cave. Gral followed close behind leaving Deva alone.

She moved to the vegetation that had been left of the rocky floor. It seemed to be a mix of berries, roots and leaves. Deva didn't know if any of it was poisonous or not but there seemed to be nothing else on offer and perhaps poison would be a better fate than being eaten by Shetha. She picked at the berries and leaves, washing it down with a little water from her canteen. Finally, she picked up a root and slumped back against the wall of the cave, nibbling at it as she pondered her options.

It must have been later than she'd figured because night fell soon after, the chill of it causing her to bemoan the loss of her cloak and bedroll, both left tied to her saddle. Gral entered the cave, his presence making her nervous. He padded back and forth across the entrance; his pitiless gaze locked upon her. As he moved, Deva found herself wondering what warmth she might find next to him, would a cloak of wolf fur warm her. Then she considered how much warmer she would be snuggled up to his furry body rather than cloaked in it. These thoughts crossed her mind fleetingly at first as she watched the impressive pack leader strut back and forth, back and forth, an almost hypnotic quality to his actions. As she continued to regard him, the thought of warmth and comfort continued to steal into her thoughts, emboldening her somewhat, her eyes meeting his on occasion, a quickening feeling in her stomach and strangely in her public area as well when their eyes connected.