Scourge Sixteen - Outpost

“It’s clear!” Teo says as he steps out of the outpost. Esteban isn’t with him, but I figure that just means he’s still exploring the place.

“Anyone home?” Ran calls out.

Teo shakes his head. “No one.”

“That’s not normal, is it?” I ask the obvious question. A guard outpost that’s entirely deserted, and a glance at the walls around it shows no signs of forced entry. There are some monsters that could wipe out a group that stealthily. But Teo’s not acting like he’s just seen a heap of corpses.

He runs over to the caravan while shaking his head. “Not a trace of them. Maybe they’ve moved on already.”

I glance at my friends, and we all move forwards at about the same time. Some of the other mercenaries are doing the same.

Two raises his hands, stalling us in our tracks. “Park the carts near the walls. Keep an eye out for trouble. I don’t know what happened here, but our business is to deliver goods. If there’s no one to take them, then we move on to the next outpost, same as usual.”

“The next outpost’s gonna want to know what happened,” one of the Lions says.

“You’re right, but we’re not going to burn daylight to find out. I need volunteers. Cultivators only. We’re going to check the base for any signs of magic use,” Teo says.

I raise my hand right away to volunteer, and my friends are quick to do the same. Teo eyes us, then sighs. He points to a pair of guys, then the four of us. “You won’t be any good helping move the carts around, and you’re smaller, maybe you can fit into some crack the guys can’t.”

I want to complain, but we are noticeably smaller than the guys, and I feel like exploring the outpost more than I feel like complaining about being called small. We jog up to the outpost’s gate, then slip inside, heads on swivels to take in everything at once.

The outpost isn’t all that impressive within. There’s a pair of towers on opposite sides, rising up over the wall with a stand at the top where I can imagine the guards having a decent view of the surroundings.

The rest of the outpost is made up of one larger building made of stacked and mortared stone. It’s low to the ground, but looks plenty sturdy. There are three more, smaller buildings. Wooden constructions that are much smaller. A stable, what looks like an outhouse, and a shed next to a modest garden.

“Where do we start?” Esme asks. “Do they have a library or something here?”

“I doubt you’ll find out where everyone that was here left in a book,” I say.

“You never know,” Esme replies.

I laugh and turn to tell her something, but I notice Felix frowning while staring off into the middle-distance. “You sense anything, Felix?” I ask.

“I just thought I heard something,” she says. “Like someone screaming, but it was muffled.”

“Which direction? If you don’t mind me asking.” Bianca adjusts her skirts. “And what sort of screaming?”

“Like someone calling out for help,” Felix says. “It’s coming from behind there.” She points ahead, past the squat stone building in the middle of the outpost.

All four of us start heading that way, but we’ve barely moved that Esteban walks out of that building, a stack of documents in hand, and narrows his eyes at us. “What are you doing here?”

“Investigating,” I say.

He sniffs. “I know that Teo seems to trust you children, but I don’t need to turn this into a hunt for four girls who don’t know any better than to stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

I’m about to say something that might be a bit rude when Felix pipes up first. “I heard it again. I’m sure it’s a scream.”

“Let’s go,” I say

“”What did she hear?” Esteban asks.

“Oh, just the kind of thing a curious girl who likes sticking her nose in things would hear,” I snap. He glares, but when we start heading around the building he’s quick to follow us.

The rear courtyard isn’t anything special. There’s a sort of storm cellar cover to one side, with stones all around it, and an old well, with a wooden roof over it.

We spread out a bit, Esme and I heading to the storm cellar while Bianca and Esteban walk over to the well. “Where now?” I ask Felix who has opted to stay in the middle.

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“I can’t sense anything,” she says.

“Was this all some tri--” Esteban starts, but he stops when a faint call comes from below. It’s hard to pin-point, but it’s definitely a man’s voice, and he does sound like he’s asking for help. “The cellar, quick.”

With the bunch of us working at once it’s trivial to pull the cellar’s door open. It reveals a dark passage burrowed into the ground, with steps leading up to a gate. It’s closed on the other side, a heavy piece of wood on two metal brackets holding it closed.

Esteban jumps down and grabs the beam locking the door through the bars.

“That doesn’t seem safe,” I say.

“It’s meant to keep out monsters,” Bianca says. “It has to be easy for rescuers to open it from the outside once it's down. And the bars allow those within to ward off monsters with spears and arrows.”

That makes a lot of sense. Esteban tips over the beam and it clatters to the ground with a heavy thump. “Is-is someone there?” comes a call from deeper in.

Esteban opens the gate, then curses. “Light,” he says.

Bianca snaps her fingers and a ball of flame appears over her hand.

Not to be outdone, Esme mutters a quick spell, and she summons a swirling ball of light that zips around her lightning-quick. With both lights, and the sunlight pouring in behind us, it’s much easier to see.

The tunnel is made of rough-hewn stone, with wooden beams supporting the ceiling above. Rusty old lanterns are hanging off the wall on hooks, and there are some boxes and crates, covered in a thick layer of dust, left behind.

We move into the tunnel as a group, Esteban in the lead with a hand on the sword by his hip. “Is anyone in here?” he asks. Then, in a lower voice. “Some monsters can mimic human speech, be ready.”

I doubt that we’re dealing with a monster. It’s probably a person, and that’s likely far worse.

The tunnel turns, a sharp ninety degrees into a wider area with cots pressed up to one side and what looks like a very rudimentary living space. Not somewhere where anyone would be comfortable for long, but I guess this whole place isn’t meant to keep people safe for long either.

There’s a man on one of the cots, a guard. His armour’s half off, gambeson left on the ground next to him. His shirt is open at the front, and his breathing is laboured. He’s clearly sick.

Esteban raises a hand to stall us. “Who are you?” he asks.

“Inigo Zapa, posted with the sixth guard at the Shortbend outpost,” he says. He blinks his eyes, then scans us all. “Angels. Oh, he sent me angels.” Then his gaze lingers on Esteban. “And an ape.”

“What happened to the outpost, the others?” Esteban asks. “Was there an outbreak? A sickness?”

“No. No, not a sickness. They, they drank the vials. I didn’t. I couldn’t. But they forced me to. And it hurt. They left, but I came here. I came here to pray. Oh Luto, Lord of Mourning, watch over my feeble souls and bless me with your healing grace,” he says before his words descend into murmured prayers that I can’t make out.

“He’s obviously sick with something,” Esme says. “It’s not warm enough here to be sweating so much, and his eyes are pinpricks.”

“Poison, maybe?” Esteban asks. “Servants of Luto can pray for healing.”

“Then where are the others if they were all poisoned?” I ask.

“Maybe they’re the ones that poisoned Inigo here,” Felix says.

Esteban approaches Inigo and squats down next to the bed. He touches his forehead, then nods as if to himself. “He feels cool. Too cool to be feverish. I think whatever he’s had has broken its hold on him. He likely came down here to hide while the poison took its course.” He sniffs. “He’s shat himself too.”

Esme and I recoil, but neither Felix nor, surprisingly, Bianca, seem to care.

“We’re taking him out of here. Grab his legs. Ran has some experience with poisons and the like, he might know better.”

“Oh, Luto,” Inigo mutters. “How can they do such things? To make the dead walk without their rites.”

I grimace as I walk over and grab the guy’s legs. I really hope there’s going to be something to learn from all this.

***