Stench from the South Pt. 02

There it was again, the Captain thought to himself wryly, that old soldier's intuition again. As much as the priests and priestesses spoke of the Three favoring the righteous on the field of combat, he could never quite bring himself to believe that it was so simple as all that...

"Master Jakobus?"

"Yes, Mattison, what is it?"

"Master, have you noticed that we haven't passed a single traveler since we left Ralleah behind?"

The Master Mage paused, lost in thought for a brief moment.

"That is odd," he conceded, "though there are a number of perfectly logical explanations for this being the case."

"Such as?"

"Remember that it is still winter, lad, and that inclement weather is always a factor to consider. The threat of driving winds, rainstorms, lightning, and heavy hail would make traveling a dangerous or unpleasant prospect, even for hardier folk."

"But the weather hasn't been that severe, at least not thus far," protested the assistant. "Not nearly enough to account for the roads being this empty, at any rate."

Jakobus shrugged, unfazed. "This is also by no means the only road into or out of Nocturne, lad."

"That is true," Balthus cut in, "but he's got a point, Jakobus. I've noticed it as well-the road's indeed been empty since we got here, and even back in the lowest reaches of the Copper Hills there weren't too many people out and about. Is there something else at play, perhaps?"

"As I have told you already, Balthus, I am no clairvoyant. I can only hazard my best guess; nothing more, nothing less. But again, I will concede that it is...strange that we have seen neither hide nor hair of another soul for so long a stretch."

"Should we be worried, do you think?"

"No, Balthus, I think we should stay focused on the task at hand. Our goal is to arrive at Grayspire in one piece, ensure that they are safe, and find out what they know-if anything-about the madness that has taken place up north."

"I haven't forgotten, Jakobus."

"I am aware, Balthus. Nevertheless," the Master Mage replied sternly, "I do not think that you-nor any of us, for that matter-should worry ourselves with things over which we have no control. Yes, it is indeed strange, but let us not be bogged down by paranoia, I beseech the both of you! I don't need to tell either of you that that will do no good for anyone!"

"What is the next town, Master? Was it Elksmore?"

"If I remember correctly, yes it is," Balthus cut in.

"I wasn't asking you," the assistant sneered.

"Mattison! You forget yourself! Balthus is correct, however; we should be within an hour's ride of Elksmore-if the weather does not take a turn for the worse, that is."

"I vote that we stop there-resupply, and perhaps pump the locals for information; see if anyone there knows anything about the attacks," said Balthus.

"Do you hear that?"

Mattison's sudden interruption took Balthus and Jakobus off-guard. They both glanced over at the assistant, who was peering westward into the deep, dark, and seemingly impenetrable treeline only a hundred feet away, which seemed to spring upwards from nowhere out of the thin, rocky Nocturnal soil. Jakobus made as if he were about to rebuke the younger vampire, perhaps accuse him of imagining things, before Balthus held up a silencing hand.

"Wait," he said quietly, "I hear it too."

Balthus and Mattison halted at the same time, their horses huffing simultaneously. Jakobus took a few more steps, then softly called out "woah" as his own steed ceased its' trotting. He brought the beast around so as to face his comrades, his face screwed up in confusion.

"What are you-"

He stopped mid-sentence, and his expression changed to one of sudden understanding. For a moment, the trio did not speak, their ears straining to pick up the strange intonation which lie almost hidden beneath the soft groan of the southern winds which blew in from the south and the west. It was certainly audible, however; just barely, yes, but unmistakable beneath the ever-present voice of nature itself.

"What...is that?"

Jakobus' words, soft-spoken as they were, shattered the unnerving near-quiet. Balthus shushed him quickly, again holding up one hand in a silencing motion. As he did so, the light, telltale drops of another upcoming squall began to fall upon them.

"It sounds like-"

"Moaning," Crick said quietly. "It sounds like someone moaning."

They fell silent again, all three silently pondering many of the same questions.

"It's coming from the west, I think," Mattison muttered, all traces of his usual smug arrogance now wholly absent.

"It sounds that way, yes."

"You're technically in charge, Balthus," said Jakobus, glancing at his companion. "Should we investigate? It might be someone in need of assistance."

Balthus did not immediately reply, as another realization had just come over him.

"There's more than one."

"Pardon?"

"There are several people moaning in unison somewhere out there, Jakobus," Balthus replied, his hand beginning to unconsciously drift toward the hilt of his sword. "I don't know exactly how many, but it's definitely more than one person."

"He's right," Mattison said, "I hear multiple pitches."

Balthus was still trying to pinpoint the sound's exact origin-as well as whether or not it was growing nearer-when Mattison spoke again.

"Captain! What should we do? Do we investigate or not?"

Balthus hesitated for a split-second before responding. "No. We keep going."

"Are you sure, Captain? I do not mean to question your judgment, you understand-"

"I have a bad feeling about this, Jakobus," Balthus muttered, glancing worriedly at the lithe, pale vampire. "Soldier's intuition, we call it. That's not the sound of someone in pain or in need of help, either. I believe it's either a trap or something worse. I've never been more certain of anything."

Jakobus nodded. "We move on, then. Come, Mattison."

Mattison spared one more anxious glance to the west, then quietly said "yah!" His horse broke into a trot as the others did the same, following along beside him. As the party hurried away, Balthus swore for just a moment-a split second, really-that a gust of wind, which surged from the southwest, carried with it the faintest stench of early decomposition.

The rainfall was beginning to intensify, and Balthus flipped his hood over his head so as to keep the worst of it from soaking into his thick, black crop of hair.

*****

If one were to have asked about the exact moment in which the Captain knew for certain that things with the Nocturne mission were about to go very, very wrong, he would have had responded that it had been when they'd found the wolf.

He and his compatriots were only a few miles' ride from the town of Elksmore when it came into view, its' form splayed out half on the stones of the road, and half in the dirt beside them. They must have all realized exactly what it was at the same time, because all of them called out "woah," very nearly in unison. They momentarily appraised the animal's form in silence before Balthus, without giving any warning, proceeded to dismount Halberd and approach it.

The thing was dead; that much was blatantly obvious, based on the fact that almost all of its' flesh was missing from its' bones. It lay on its' left side, the remains of its' mutilated haunches and tail resting upon the wet stone of the Kingsway. Only one foreleg remained, and not even that had been entirely spared, as its' paw had been torn away, leaving behind only shattered and jagged ends of bone. Most of its' ribs had been smashed or snapped, apparently so as to get to the soft organs beneath (all of which, like the paw, were missing). Enough of its' pelt remained attached to its' skull to conclusively identify it as a wolf rather than merely a large dog, but this also provided ample opportunity for Balthus and his company to get a long, hard look at its' grotesque facial expression. The Captain immediately found himself reminded of the devoured ox he'd seen on the edge of the farmstead a week prior. Much like that particular beast, the wolf's mouth was half-open, its' tongue lolling out from between its' teeth to rest on the dirt beneath while its' milky, lifeless right eye bulged in its' socket as it stared sightlessly into nothingness.

"It's as you described the beasts and people at that farmstead," Jakobus said grimly, as if he'd read the Captain's mind while approaching on his horse, "completely and totally stripped."

"Devoured," said Balthus gruffly, standing up again and turning back to grasp Halberd's reins, "it's been devoured. I can see the teeth marks on some of the bones; this beast was brought down by human attackers-just like at the farmstead, yes."

"I can still see some of the tracks," Jakobus said as he glanced around at the soil next to the road, "and they appear to be human."

"They're close, then," Mattison said.

"Who knows where they are now," Balthus grunted as he slipped one boot into Halberd's right stirrup, then hoisted himself up into the saddle. "This kill's maybe a day, day and-a-half old, by the looks of it. Saw some more tracks leading away; most of them seem to have drifted back to the northwest."

"There were likely around a dozen attackers," Jakobus said, steering his horse over to the edge of the stones so that he could get a closer look at the tracks surrounding the kill. "They swarmed the beast, pulled it down, and...well."

"So they've a taste for raw meat," Mattison spat. "I still wonder whether we might just be dealing with some roving band of insane, indiscriminate primitives."

"Assume nothing yet, Mattison," Balthus warned. "We have no idea exactly who or what we're dealing with here; we're still operating mostly on guesswork, as of now. But I'm certain that we'll find our answers soon enough."

He made a pair of brief kissing sounds, and Halberd broke into an easy run. His companions followed behind, and after a moment Balthus called out to them.

"There's something else that's bothering me!"

"Everything about this should be bothering you!" Mattison's look of incredulity brought on a fresh desire in Balthus to backhand the young Mage's assistant.

"Silence! Speak freely, Balthus!"

"Other than the birds, that's the first sign of any wildlife I've seen since we crossed the border! Where are the beasts?! No deer, elk, foxes, rabbits-nothing at all! It's as if they all just suddenly pulled up stakes and left!"

Neither of the vampires had an answer for him. They rode on, the hooves of their horses thundering steadily over the rain and the low groan of the wind. On both sides, the trees were still creeping steadily closer, until they eventually hovered over the travelers like great, silent guardians. Their trunks were spaced just wide enough apart for the men to see only a short distance away, and their eyes would frequently be drawn to the passing gaps as they searched for any sign of trouble. While Balthus wasn't sure at first whether or not the scene they came across only a mile from the Elksmore gate counted as 'trouble', per se, it certainly didn't make him feel any less uneasy.

It was a civilian's covered wagon, its' spoked wheels partially sunken into the soft, wet dirt next to the road. The thing appeared mostly intact at first glance, but as they drew closer, all three travelers could see that there were...problems.

"Hang back, gentlemen," Balthus muttered, holding up a hand to his companions. "Let me clear it first."

They both halted their steeds, and Balthus continued toward the mass of the wagon.

"Hello there!" He called out just loud enough so that anyone who might have been under its' thick, white bonnet would hear him, but not so loud enough that he'd be heard from farther away. "Anyone in there?"

No one answered; not that he had expected them to, anyway. He slowly steered Halberd toward the back of the thing, taking in the sights as he went. There were a number of boxes and small crates lying on the ground nearby, their contents strewn about with naught in the way of care-clothing, food, tools, all sorts of things one would need for a lengthy trip. Much of it had been trampled underfoot by numerous pairs of feet, instantly putting the Captain on edge.

"Captain! What do you see?!" Mattison's hiss cut through the quiet like a razor. Balthus whipped his head around to give the Mage's assistant an angry glare and flashed a 'hold' hand sign. The young vampire rolled his eyes, but held his tongue. Balthus and Halberd looped around the rear of the wagon, giving it a wide enough berth so as to stay out of swiping distance of anyone who might be hiding beneath the bonnet. Hand on his sword, Balthus leaned over to take look inside, and...

Nothing. No one at all-just more supplies and personal effects.

He relaxed his sword hand, and trotted Halberd back out to where his companions could see him. He flashed a 'move up' signal, and Jakobus nodded. He and his assistant came up to join the Captain.

"Seems like a lot to just leave behind," Mattison commented, peering down at a small barrel lying in the mud, from which what appeared to be grains of some sort had spilled out onto the mud.

"It certainly wasn't by choice," Balthus growled. "They were set upon by a group-again, the whole place is covered in those same strange, dragging tracks. No blood that I can see, though."

"Might they have gotten away clean?" Jakobus tried to sound hopeful, but in Balthus' mind it came across as forced. He was as full of doubt as Balthus was, though he would not express it.

"I don't know," Balthus said, glancing around. "But out in these woods, with no supplies...?"

"They might have made it back to town, Balthus. Remember: assume nothing."

"I'll concede that it's possible," admitted the Captain. "At any rate, we're almost to Elksmore proper; we'll be sure to ask around, see if anyone can help us find out who the owners are, and whether or not they made it back."

"Who they were, more likely," Mattison grumbled.

"I swear on the Father that I will knock you out of your fucking saddle if you keep that shit up," Balthus snarled, giving the assistant a dangerous look. Jakobus shot impatient glares at both men.

"Enough! Gentlemen, we must make haste; we should not linger! Balthus, calm yourself and come along now!"

*****

Chapter IV - Horrors Under the Antlers

The wall surrounding Elksmore proper seemed to spring from the earth itself, a continuous sentinel which towered over twenty feet above their heads. While walls were a fact of life in all of the Western Kingdoms (it wouldn't do to be exposed if a moss troll, wyrm, or giant decided to come calling, after all), there had always been something about the walls surrounding Nocturnal towns and cities that had sent a strange chill down Balthus' spine. He'd only seen them a few times, but somehow they'd always felt more intimidating to him than their Rallean counterparts. Perhaps it was that they were always darker in hue. Perhaps it was the way in which the peak of each massive log had been chiseled and honed down to a spear-like point, one that would certainly skewer anyone unfortunate enough to slip while climbing over it. Or maybe it was the thick steel reinforcing bands which lined the upper, lower, and midsections of the logs, lashing them together so tightly that Balthus doubted he could slip the blade of his knife between them. The bands themselves had been painted a menacing black; some sort of protective coating that only just stood out against the deep, dark auburn sealant that the town likely applied every so often to the logs themselves. Balthus understood the reasoning behind the aesthetic, however: it was meant to appear menacing to would-be attackers, yet reassuring to the townsfolk. It really was a subtle stroke of brilliance, Balthus thought to himself.

There were the usual pair of guard towers flanking the main gate, of course-every walled town from the borders of the Eastern Marshlands to the faraway western shores of M'zaera had those. Beneath the outward-facing window of each structure was mounted a pair of colossal elk antlers on a steel placard, their points flaring outward like thorns upon a vine. Mounted above the ten-foot tall set of steel-bound double doors of the gate, however, was an even more magnificent piece: a massive elk's head, carved entirely from some luxurious dark hardwood, and made to be several times larger than its' real-life counterpart. It had been made to look like a hunting trophy, its' impressively chiseled form rising majestically from a placard of its' own, staring out to the woods behind the travelers with startlingly life-like eyes. Its' antlers rose up to a tremendous height, flaring outward in so grandiose a fashion that anyone seeing it for the first time would have a hard time not being suitably impressed-if the sheer detail and obvious care that had been put into its' creation and maintenance hadn't accomplished that already.

"They like their elk here," Mattison mused, "that's for sure."

"Other than the Western Woodlands, this region is the best in the Western Kingdoms for elk hunting," Balthus said.

"Where'd they all go, then? That, and I seem to recall things not going too well the last time the Prince went on an elk hunt," muttered the Mage's assistant.

"A surprisingly superstitious statement coming from the one who teased me for merely leaving a Ren to the Forked One," Balthus said, smirking at Mattison. The vampire rolled his eyes, but did not push the matter further. Jakobus glared at him.

"He was fine when all was said and done, Mattison. What happened with Prince Astren has got nothing to do with us, anyway. That, and we're all trained combatants-you included," Jakobus chided

The three riders went silent as they approached the main gate into Elksmore. The two massive doors were firmly shut, as was the smaller man door which had been cut from the bottom of the left side. As Balthus looked up to the tops of the guard towers, he frowned. Before he could express his concerns verbally, however, Mattison beat him to it.

"Those guard towers are empty," he said. "Where are the sentries?"

"Might be on a piss break," Balthus grumbled.

"Both, at the same time?" Even Jakobus did not sound convinced.

"Never known the Nocturnals to do such a thing-leave the guard towers empty, that is. But, just to be sure..." Balthus cupped a hand around the right side of his mouth and called out loudly to the small guardhouses atop the towers.

"Hello up there!"

No response came from the top of either tower. The gate remained shut, and the peep slot set into the man door remained closed. His frown deepened, and he tried again.

"Guards! The wind blows cold, and we have ridden many days in the rain! Open up!"

"In the name of King Cyrrel and Queen Raela of the Kingdom of Ralleah, open the gate!"

Balthus and Jakobus both shot incredulous and confused looks at Mattison. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"It was worth a try!"

"What the fuck is going on," Balthus growled as he dismounted Halberd, "this is absolutely ridiculous...Jakobus, hold my reins, would you?"

Balthus pulled Halberd over to Jakobus, who took the beast's reins tightly in one hand. He spoke a few soothing words to Halberd as the Captain approached the man door. Beneath the hulking form of the carved bull, he slammed one leather-gauntleted fist against the thick, heavy planks.

"Guard! We're out in the open here! Come now, open up!"

Still no reply. Balthus scowled, frustration coursing through him. They'd been forced to camp out the night before in the absence of an inn, and he didn't exactly relish the idea of spending the night in these woods...

"Balthus."

He turned to see Jakobus had dismounted and was walking toward him, pulling Halberd and his own horse with him. Mattison did the same, pulling his light gray beast along with some difficulty as it huffed and gave the reins a brief, sharp tug.