Stench from the South Pt. 02

Chapter III - Southbound

The low, dull rumbling of distant thunder was almost-but not quite-loud enough to occasionally drown out the sharp clopping of steel-shoed hooves impacting against the ancient, worn stones of the Kingsway. The trio of riders, clad in tightly-drawn travel cloaks, hurried south towards the border of the Kingdom of Nocturne-a much darker prospect these days than it would normally have been.

"I should have had someone place a waterproofing enchantment on my cloak," grumbled Captain Balthus Crick, shifting in his saddle as he moved to tighten the thick covering around his torso. "Probably would have cost me more than the damn thing did when I bought it, but I daresay it would have been worth the investment."

Master Jakobus, the vampire mage, laughed from the saddle of his own steed to the Captain's left. "Would that you'd said something before we'd left Braelon, friend, I'd have done it free of charge!"

"Don't suppose you could do anything about it now, then," Balthus grumbled.

"I'm afraid not," the vampire replied with a shrug. "I didn't think that I'd be called upon to enchant anything while on the road, therefore I neglected to bring any of the necessary tools for the job."

"Well, hopefully I don't catch pneumonia before we've even crossed the fucking border."

"What's the matter, Captain? It's only wind and water! I imagine you've faced worse than this pitiful squall!" From the Balthus' right, the smug, grinning face of Mattison Rhaeg, the Master's assistant, had never appeared more deserving of a swift backhand. Balthus glared at the young vampire.

"As I've told you already, boy, never mistake my discomfort for weakness-or you just might find out what my right hand can really do."

The younger vampire threw his head back and laughed gaily. "And you probably think that I can't take a light-hearted jab! Come now, Balthus, lighten up!"

"It's 'Captain' to you, whelp," Balthus snarled.

"As you wish, 'Captain'." His snarky tone was as irritating as a mosquito bite.

"Enough! We've been at this for over two days now, Mattison, and I tire of your insolence! We're still nearly a week from Grayspire proper, and I tell you now, I refuse to listen to your snide commentary for the duration! Now, make yourself useful and keep an eye out for danger, you fool!"

Master Jakobus' sharp reprimand immediately cowed his assistant, Mattison choosing to sulk quietly rather than argue. Grateful for the reprieve, Balthus gave the Master a look of gratitude and a barely-perceptible nod. Jakobus' responding smile had been faint, but Balthus had seen it all the same. In his heart, he found himself feeling increasingly grateful for the Mage's presence-for, around them, the landscape was becoming less friendly and welcoming all the time.

The terrain had given way from the softly-rolling hills, flat farmlands and lush groves of central Ralleah to the much rougher moors and rocky outcroppings which dominated large swaths of the Kingdom's southern landscape. The dips and rises of the Kingsway became more pronounced over time, almost giving Balthus the feeling that he was cruising over a series of long, tall ocean waves. Granted, he'd only been to the ocean itself once (Ralleah being landlocked and all), but it still brought back clear memories of his sole trip to the M'zaeran coast during his early twenties. Three, but the sight of scantily-clad (and sometimes entirely nude) M'zaeran women prancing through the surf and lounging upon the warm sands near the water had been one to remember...

Yet here he was now, riding through the wet, gloomy gray of late winter toward what he feared might be doom itself. He didn't like it one bit, though he felt a dirty hypocrite for feeling this way, seeing as he'd freely volunteered for the damnable mission in the first place. Was it paranoia? Perhaps it was just his soldiers' intuition acting up (he wouldn't allow himself to even entertain the possibility that it came down to simple fear of the unknown). No matter what the truth was, there was still so much uncertainty to contend with, especially after what he'd seen at the Fessely farmstead-and Balthus didn't like uncertainty, no matter how skilled and capable he was. He would have to be even more careful than he usually was, that much was certain. But such was the life of a soldier: he was here to serve his Kingdom before anything else, and this was how he himself had chosen to do it. He wouldn't cower or run, for he could never live with the shame of doing so. That was not it the Rallean Army's way of doing things-and it certainly wasn't his, either.

"You look worried, Balthus."

The Captain started, snapping out of his worried funk. "What?"

The Master Mage sighed. "Something is clearly on your mind, Captain. Speak now, there is no need to hold your tongue. Such things are unhealthy, after all."

"I-well, I was just thinking of my troopers," Balthus admitted half-truthfully. "Our mystery lunatics struck only scant miles from our Outpost, killing multiple innocents in the process, and while my people are perfectly capable-"

"Yet you still fear for their safety," Jakobus finished for him with a nod. "It is only natural, Captain. All good leaders care for and worry about those who follow them, you know this. Tell me, do you trust your second-in-command?"

"Sergeant Lowell? Yes, absolutely. He's a strong, capable man-chose him for the position myself, as a matter of fact."

"Do your people trust him?"

"So far as I know, yes."

"Then they will be fine, Balthus. They are stationed at an Outpost, after all, where they have walls, arms, and plenty of provisions. They have received extensive training from some of the finest commanders in the Western Kingdoms, and-most importantly of all-they have each other. Should any of our 'mystery lunatics', as you call them, show up at their gates, your people will either repel or outlast them-of this, I have the utmost confidence. Again, you know these things, though I understand that worry clouds your mind all the same."

"It's funny, you know," Balthus said with a sigh and a wry smile, "because I told Sergeant Lowell the exact same thing before I left the Outpost, and yet here I am fretting over trained fighters like a nervous father. Still..."

"You cannot help but be concerned-again, I understand. But I insist that you try to not to think of it. Trust in your people, Balthus. They will still be there after this strange mess has been sorted."

Balthus remained unconvinced, but thought better of expressing his misgivings. Jakobus was only trying to help, after all, and it would not do anyone-himself included-any good by arguing with the Mage. He decided to carry his worries on his own, and simply hope that nothing would go awry in his absence-as difficult a prospect as that was proving to be.

*****

Late morning eventually gave way to afternoon, and with the afternoon came more rain. The squalls were growing longer and more frequent the further south they journeyed, the chill of the wind working its' way deeper and deeper into the Captain's bones with each passing hour. He found himself almost beginning to envy the two vampires, in a way; one perk of being only technically among the living and closer to the dead, he thought, being largely impervious to the elements. At least they didn't have to worry about catching their death of cold...

He pulled his traveling cloak in tight, the dampening cloth doing only the bare minimum required in order to warm his powerful body. The Sun seemed perpetually obscured behind dense, impenetrable clouds that seemed to mock his mere mortal's flesh. What I wouldn't give for my fireplace, my robe, and a mug full to the brim with strong M'zaeran black, he grumbled to himself. He wouldn't complain out loud, though; he wasn't about to give that sneering Master Mage's assistant any more satisfaction than he already had.

Around the small party, the only sounds which penetrated the quiet took the form of the soft raindrops upon the stone slabs of the road, the rustling of the pale grasses which seemed to stretch away for eternity upon either side of it, and the ever-present low moaning of the wind. The irony had not escaped him in that conditions were exactly the same as they had been only a week before, when he'd stepped through the ruined doorway of the Fessely farmhouse and beheld the obscene and gory sights contained within it. And here he was, riding headlong into another mission that seemed almost certain to end in even more blood. The worry tacked to this feeling seemed very nearly palpable, Balthus had been thinking to himself as Master Jakobus called out some time later.

"The border is only a few miles from here," the Master Mage said, suddenly pointing a long, slender, pale finger at an upcoming signpost, which stood tall to their right. "Yes, yes, I know precisely where we are."

"You ready for what we might find, Jakobus?"

"That would require some level of clairvoyance, Balthus-one gift which I sadly do not possess. All I can do is remember what I know, and hope that it helps me kill my enemies before they kill me!"

Balthus smiled; the Mage's dry sense of humor always seemed to bring it out of him. As they passed the weathered signpost, the Captain noted the sole arrow which jutted to the south read 'Nocturne - 5' in the bold, white lettering so typical of Western Kingdom signage. That was good; they were making progress, at any rate, even if the most dangerous part of the journey likely still lie ahead. Balthus could not help but slip his hand down to the hilt of his sword, just to make sure that it was still exactly where he needed it to be. Just in case, that's what he'd always tell himself when he found himself performing one of these checks. Just in case, that's all.

The next five miles seemed to trickle by at a snail's pace, but eventually they did find themselves approaching another sign, a modest one made from a dark, weather-worn plank with the words 'Welcome to the Kingdom of Nocturne' etched and painted upon its' face. At its' base was constructed what appeared to be a meager shrine constructed from pieces of rough stone and scrap wood, all of which had almost certainly been scavenged from the surrounding moors. It sported two crude shelves, the bottom of which was packed with a strange variety of objects. They included a number of wilting flowers, various coins, as well as a small collection of stoppered bottles and vials filled with what appeared to be blood, though Balthus did not care to stop and examine them more closely.

Poised on the shelf above this odd collection of trinkets stood a small, yet surprisingly magnificent objet d'art: a solid stone carving of what appeared to be a tightly-coiled, horned viper, its' head reared back as if preparing to strike. It had been painstakingly, meticulously, and lovingly carved; every detail had been delicately etched into its' surface by some unknown master sculptor who had clearly been willing to take their time. Balthus, upon peering more closely at the statuette as they made their approach, noticed that there were even a pair of lush green emeralds embedded into the thing's eye sockets, giving it an air of both grace and menace. Packed onto the shelf around this strangely beautiful effigy were a series of small animal skulls-taken from local rodents, by the look of them.

"Not often is it that I see shrines to Balugar-Soth, living in Ralleah," Jakobus mused. "What do you say, Balthus? Leave a coin for luck?"

"I'm surprised no one's ransacked this thing," the Captain replied, "shrine or not. Anyway, I'm not a worshipper of the Forked One."

The vampire laughed softly. "It's considered blasphemous among his faithful to disturb, let alone steal from, even the most humble altars of the Forked One. Best you remember the people down this way take that belief to heart, friend. You get caught pocketing a coin left to the Serpent and you're liable to catch a beating-if not a knife to your gut."

"I wasn't going to-"

"I know you weren't, Captain; I merely meant to inform, not accuse or condemn. But you ought to leave a coin all the same; the Nocturnals say that Balugar-Soth watches over and brings luck to all folk who pay their respects to him, regardless of their personal religious affiliations."

"Surprisingly saint-like for a spirit said to take the form of a venomous killer," the Captain muttered. All the same, he found himself slowing Halberd's pace as they came level with the shrine, whereupon he popped open a small satchel on his belt and began to fish through it.

"Never took you for the superstitious type, Balthus," sneered Mattison, before having to steer his horse back onto the stone road after it had begun to wander. Balthus smiled internally; the lad still couldn't master his beast, and it always brought him just a twinge of satisfaction to see the brat struggle.

"Seeing as you know next to nothing about me, lad, that isn't exactly a surprise." The burly, bearded Rallean finally found what he was looking for and held it up for a closer look-yes, that was it, all right. He leaned over just a little bit in his saddle and, with one deliberate motion, pitched the single Ren coin onto the lower shelf of the makeshift altar just before they passed it by.

"Who knows," Balthus said with a shrug, righting himself in his saddle and looking over at Jakobus with a grin, "maybe the Forked One'll throw us a bone, keep us from getting necked out here."

"We can hope, Captain," smiled the Mage.

Sparing one last look over his shoulder at the strange setup, Balthus Crick almost fooled himself into believing that the ominous effigy's jeweled eyes had been following him. Or maybe he was just imagining things. He didn't really want to know either way.

*****

"Why a snake?"

"Pardon?"

"I said, why is Balugar-Soth depicted as a snake? I know he's supposed to be the patron of vampires, werewolves, and all other meta-humans, but what do snakes have to do with it?"

They were now at least fifteen miles into Nocturne, and their surroundings were again morphing around them. Thick crops of tall trees-primarily redwoods, pines, beeches, and cedars-seemed to creep closer and closer to the stones of the Kingsway with every mile they traveled. The sharp, jagged outcroppings of stone, which had been so common a sight back in Copper Hills, now seemed to number far fewer-or perhaps they had simply been swallowed up by the encroaching trees. Lastly, their visibility had been slowly worsening due to the encroachment of the seemingly ever-present mists which hung over the land of Nocturne throughout most of the year. Only in the warmest of summer months did it ever disperse, Balthus had heard folk say, and even then it wasn't by much. Because of this, he had found himself worrying-just a little-about whether or not they would be able to see any would-be assailants coming.

"It's not that Balugar-Soth quite literally possesses the appearance of a snake," Jakobus said. "After all, the Forked One is not a corporeal being. No one can possibly know for certain what he looks like."

"Obviously not."

"What I mean when say that, friend, is that the viper avatar is nothing more than one of many worldly interpretations of Balugar-Soth. Some have depicted him as an arachnid, or even a great winged bat. Others still imagine him as a cloaked and hooded old man carrying a two-pronged staff, ceaselessly wandering the least-trodden pathways of the world while spreading cunning, wisdom, and comfort to those who would believe. The serpent specifically, however? I can only tell you what I have read."

"And what is it you have read?"

"The tomes I have studied concerning the various faiths of the Western Kingdoms," began Jakobus, "claim that the image of the serpent was born of the hated status that the vampire and the werewolf once held throughout much of the world. Treated as paragons of danger and death who preyed on the unwary, they lived on the fringes and dwelt in the shadows-"

"Much like a snake," Balthus finished with a knowing nod.

"Yes, precisely! Thus, the image of their God in the form of a serpent was born from the minds of Balugar-Soth's earliest worshippers. He was viewed by many of our more 'civil'-minded ancestors as a God of outcasts, a patron of chaos who watched over the monstrous, the wicked, and the insane while simultaneously seeking to subvert and destroy whose who worshipped the so-called 'kinder' Gods. The serpent imagery, as I'm sure you can imagine, did nothing to improve matters."

"That seems...extreme," Balthus replied with a frown. "I have known people to be wary of Balugar-Soth; those who would call him unpredictable and dangerous to treat with, but I did not realize that he had once been so reviled."

The Mage waved a hand dismissively. "What I speak of is largely ancient history. My kind, who once prayed so desperately to the Forked One for safety and sustenance, are no longer condemned or hunted by society at large. Nor are the lycanthropes, or those who practice magic-yes, my friend, it is a lesser-known fact that the Forked One was once considered to be their chief guardian as well, back when magic users were shunned by everyday folk as wicked and crazed madmen who sought only to make themselves wealthy and omnipotent through the power of the Divine."

"I had no idea."

"Ah, I do so love to educate others," Jakobus replied with a sly grin, his amber eyes seeming to pierce into the Captain's very flesh. "Truly, few things bring me such joy in life."

"Then I must bring you more joy than anyone else alive," Mattison quipped from the Mage's opposite side.

"You might," grumbled Jakobus, rolling his eyes, "if only you would shed your insufferable attitude."

"So Balugar-Soth is not evil, despite what I've heard a few of my more superstitious countrymen claim," Balthus said, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, I can confidently claim that the Forked One is not a malignant figure; merely an intimidating, enigmatic, and oft-misunderstood one-at least, to those who live beyond Nocturne's borders. In fact, had I been raised here, I'm certain that I would have been a follower myself."

Balthus laughed. "But you weren't, and you worship those 'kinder' Gods you mentioned as a result, is that it?"

"Many people throughout this land would be quick to disagree with you, Balthus. That viewpoint was born mostly of simple ignorance and prejudice. The Nocturnals would tell you that the Forked One has been very kind to them, made them strong-as merely surviving in a land as unforgiving as this is a feat unto itself. And that, for most Nocturnals, is enough. Like I said, Balugar-Soth is no wicked deity, merely misunderstood by those who do not follow his ways." He paused, smiling slyly at his companion. "You did give of your own coin back at that shrine, though-perhaps the Forked One will keep an eye on us for it."

"I did it more out of respect than actual belief," Balthus grumbled, adjusting his sword in his belt.

"A figure like Balugar-Soth cares not why you did it, I don't believe-merely that you do it at all."

Balthus glanced warily around, half-expecting to see a hunched, robed figure clutching a two-pronged staff staring at him from within the shadow of a tall tree. While he observed nothing of the sort, he still couldn't shake the feeling that, somewhere in the Aether beyond their world, the strange serpent God was chuckling at him. He was certainly no longer in the land of the Three-hopefully, his simple act of giving had been enough for this Kingdom's alien deity to grant them safe passage. Though, when it came down to it, Balthus concluded that he'd rather trust in his sword arm before he'd consider depending on any sort of freak divine intervention.