Ch: 177 Home On The Range
Leopold Belen sat bolt upright in the dark, as a sense of well being percolated through his whole body. At long last his busy mind had caught up with current events and digested the information.
The state of his family finances had been, if not alarming, certainly upsetting. He made his way silently to his office and cracked open his ledger to the latest entry… Sweet, bold, black ink and enough of it to ease his troubled mind and bring him out of bed just to look over the figures and gloat.
So many big payouts, with no support from the capitol had stretched his reserves of coin to the point he’d had to pay the boy’s contract in silver moons… The poor lad didn’t even understand how much the exchange rate and fees had nibbled away at his short lived wealth.
Watching the boy spend that coin had been breathtaking and a little terrifying. Not that the duke was there in person, but the accounts told the entire story, in ducal taxes and fees. It was a fine tale, if one were the duke collecting those fees and levies. Leo had begun tracking the boy’s spending out of curiosity, when the first few odd items landed on his desk.
The sumptuary tax on bookbinding didn’t come up often… and it was for a large run of no frills publications… Rather than the usual short runs of elaborate and richly decorated volumes that the local nobility would commission from time to time. Usually it was a genealogy record, or the rebinding of some heirloom recipe book or magical tome.
The titles were listed, as were the numbers produced and the cost per unit, with an additional line showing the value of embellishments. Most had no listed value, indicating a plain volume, which was unusual enough. Others had a small valuation with a notation that it was for simple ink printed illustrations.
He had used his seldom exercised authority, to have samples of each volume brought to him, as they became available. That they were mostly children’s books and literature was surprising. More startling was the content of those volumes he took the time to read, or at least skim.
There were tales of pirates, heroes, lords and ladies and common folk, caught up in strange things on a strange world… One was titled in clear text and had a number of passages and individual words scattered around, though largely it was made up of long horizontal lines, scattered with strange jots and markings. Whatever the ‘The Real Book’ was, it held its mysteries close.
In any case, the per volume fee was miniscule, but they were enough to provide a bit of life sustaining cash, until the bookbinders quarterly tax assessments could come in.
Then the boy hired the Stonesmiths for a construction project in the Adventure Guild yard; those payments left him just a little giddy. After that, more books and a booming trade in taxed luxury commodities, like sugar vanilla and cocoa made him feel all warm inside.
Esperanza’s trade was already trickling a steady stream into his coffers; that only accelerated as an influx of noble visitors pumped up the usually lackluster tourist trade. The dukes Belen had a small interest in every licenced inn, tavern and public house in the duchy, as was long tradition. That kept his purse nicely plump too.
Suddenly, orders were shipping from the Adventure compound and the quantities were impressive. Blocks of refined chocolate, cocoa powder, cocoa butter, sweets and confections came flying out of the old basement storerooms beneath the orphanage. The Sweet Tooth Guild had been buying and processing their raw materials during their legal woes, now that product was hitting the roads and waterways.
Ivy Rhodes had always been on the short list for the ducal guard, now it looked like she might serve better elsewhere. He rarely took indentures for administrative tasks, but mistress Shenko was getting up in years and she could use some help…
He idly mulled over a young woman’s future, as he toyed with the strange pink cube of waxy goo that had turned his financial woes on their heads.
He hadn’t had cause to try it himself yet, but trusted troopers and officers who had, swore by it and demanded that it be standard issue.
The scent was pleasant, mildly floral and fruity, with a hint of spice. With one hand he kneaded the stuff into a viscous slime. Staring at the glistening violet ooze in curiosity. He took a pen knife and nicked his own forearm, deeply enough that dark, thick blood welled up quickly.
When he smeared the goop on, the sting eased immediately, followed shortly after by the blood flow. Within a scant dozen heartbeats, the small wound was neatly sealed closed by a patch of flexible, but waterproof violet ‘skin’.
“Amazing…” He whispered in awe, his heart swelling with pride at his daughter’s accomplishments. The profits were equally amazing. As were the requests and demands for the stuff flooding the Alchemist’s Guild and the temple of Dana.
He had no idea when Wheatford’s temples had become a major hub of duskmoon pollen production, that was no doubt some work of Naiomi and Otho. Either way he was happy with the results.
He ambled back to bed, snuggled up to Celeste in the oft desired but seldom achieved ‘Big Spoon’ position. ‘Things just keep going my way…’ He thought, as peaceful sleep claimed him.
#
“Coming your way!” Dannyl sang as the beast charged out of the dark, moonlit woods. Colette lowered her spear and felt deep down for her gift, slowly drawing it up from the depths of the earth, through her feet and down her arms into the head of her spear. She set the iron butt cap into the rocky soil and braced to receive the wallowbear’s lumbering charge. It seemed so terribly slow, almost immobile… After an interminable wait for the beast to get it in motion, she gave in to frustration. Colette leapt forward, abandoning her set position, to carry the attack into the foe’s snarling, ratlike face.
The thing never had a chance to register fear, as her iron spear point erased its face in a blast of white heat. It felt to the surprised warrior, like an oven filled with roasting pork had been opened in front of her. A wash of steam and the scent of cooked meat cleared, revealing the wreckage of the creature.
“Ok, that’s a big yes on that one… are you Ok, Colette?” Dannyl asked, as she folded neatly in on herself and flopped to the ground with a soft clatter of arms and armor.
He made a cursory check and found what he expected, severe mana deficit. “Hey, Isaac, come pick up your girlfriend, she’s napping on the job.” He called into the woods, where the third member of their team was struggling through the brambles.
“I’m coming, damn thornberries, I stumbled into a dell filled with them… thankfully, they aren’t fruiting yet. I’ll be out in a minute or three.” The young man called back. “I guess you got the critter?”
“Yeah, Colette’s taking a nap. She made a mess of the meat though.” Dannyl did his best to arrange the unconscious girl into a more dignified position and draped a blanket over her. That done, he pulled out a camp chair and started sketching and whistling.
Picking up hunts with the Ascots kept him busy and helped the fledgling group get some kills on the board. The money was nice too, Ivy was investing and managing his Ginger Dreadnought finances for him, so this job was gravy on a very well basted roast.
“Hurry up, the smell is making me hungry.” He called to the slowly approaching metallic clatter.
Isaac was a big guy, not uncommonly tall, but solid and steady. He scooped his long, lanky paramour up in his arms, blanket and all, carrying her back to the clearing where they left the horses, with a grin. “You can handle the meat, since she made a mess of most of it...” He called behind him.
It took a while and was messy. Her white hot spear had blazed a channel of cooked flesh right through the poor thing, from the rooter to the tooter. That cooked some rather unpleasant things along the way, resulting in a mix of sents both appetizing and deeply offensive.
Dannyl wound up taking the legs, belly and back, scattering the rest in the woods far and wide. He paused in the moonlight to make his prayers to the god of beasts. “The god of Beasts rejoices in our victory, while mourning our prey. Until we meet again, brother.”
Dannyl’s storage ring was nearly full of meat anyway. He hated carrying meat in his rucksack now, enjoying the tidy convenience and perfect preservation that non dimensional storage provided. “Luxury…” He sighed as he wiped his hands on a warm, wet cloth from his ring.
He rejoined the others at the horses and found Colette, still too woozy to ride. “Isaac’s getting firewood, we might need to camp here tonight.” She sighed. “I feel foolish…”
“Don’t, that was impressive and a little scary, you nearly turned that thing inside out.” He shot her the smile that made all the girls and no few of the boys sigh.
“With a little practice, control and cultivation you could probably spear freshly grilled fish, right out of the water…”
“Grilled fish? Sounds good…” Isaac grumbled as he strode back into their clearing, arms full of firewood.
“Take it easy, I’ll set up camp, you two have a rest.” Dannyl soothed the big man, using that same smile. “Gary likes to say, ‘home is where the heart is’ and he proves it by always being ready to encamp wherever he is. I really admire that dedication to the little comforts.” As he spoke, idly prattling on, he distributed and set up items around the clearing.
Soon, two bright colored tents were standing across the fire ring from each other, one small, little more than a shelter for sleeping, the other was a rather spacious pavilion. Both came from small packets of tightly folded cloth and cordage.
Camp furniture followed, along with comfortable bedding and a small cookstove. A lantern topped the tall tent, softly illuminating the whole arrangement, shedding a golden glow that repelled bugs and crawlers, while being little brighter than moonlight.
A kettle, cups, a teapot and tableware appeared, followed by a basket covered with a red checked cloth, they landed on a camp table surrounded by three stools, under the warm glow of the lanterns.
“...I try to live my life that way… for the moment and in the moment.” He nattered on, as delightful things appeared from his basket.
“I brought breakfast too.” Danyl said happily, as he cleared away the remnants of their late dinner. “These night roaming critters are easy money, as long as you are ready to sleep rough in the wilderness. We will have to suffer for our duty… good night you two, I hope you don’t mind bunking together… I snore.” He grinned impishly and winked at Isaac.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Don’t worry, the tents are sound proof… completely soundproof.”
#
Dannyl woke, with Sandi’s big, dust brown nose snuffling his hair. “That’s not a carrot top, they just call it that… silly pony!” He grumbled gently, pushing her face out of his tent.
Isaac was up and about, brushing the horses and pony getting things ready. Colette had coffee ready, winning him over firmly to her side. “This stove is a wonder…”
“Keep your minds open to our new stuff, guys; things are going to be weird, no matter what happens next… Do you smell smoke?” Dannyl asked, sniffing the air.
“Yes, but we didn’t even start a fire last night. Just the camp stove.” Isaac murmured, looking alarmed.
“You guys mount up, I’m going to take a peek…” Dannyl began and got shut down hard.
“No solo operations. The nearest road is four miles west, that’s north east… We have unknowns in the wilderness, standing orders are: we sneak a peek if it’s safe, we stay together. Isaac, stay twenty yards back and be quiet.” She loosened the horses tethers and carefully unbuckled their mount’s hobbles, leaving them in place.
“I still can’t believe Sandi’s not a familiar, she’s so kind and clever.” Colette murmured happily.
“Yeah, she’s sweet.” Dannyl agreed, feeding her a sugar cube while the others were distracted. “Keep an eye on these two, lead them back to town for help if we get in trouble, ok girl?”
#
Sandi snuffled happily and watched her humans wander off into the woods. She finished removing those dreadful things from her herdmate’s legs and received their snuffling gratitude. Tucking the awful hobbles into their saddlebags was tricky, so was coiling the horseline around her saddle pommel, after untying it from the trees…
She looked over the remnants of camp and was satisfied. Annie was a firm believer in good camp etiquette and would gently encourage offenders to mend their ways, mercilessly. ‘What was taking her Dannyl so long?’ She wondered.
#
“What took you so long?” Isaac asked, when the pair of sneaks slipped back into the little hillside clearing, overlooking a small pond and newly cleared patch of scrubland.
“No questions, get moving. I stole their McGuffin!” Dannyl gasped. “Run!” Isaac was slow. Even for a guy in a metal suit running through the woods, he was not making good time.
They were chugging down a goat trail towards the horses when Dannyl, following after the slower pair, caught the sounds of pursuit.
“Yup, they found our trail…” An arrow shattered on the boll of an oak tree a yard to Dannyl’s left. “Move it man, we gotta fly!”
He plucked a small bird, a raven carved in intricate detail, from his hatband. Captured mid flight, in black enameled bone, the tiny bird was perfect in every detail.
“Cultists on the north road, two miles from Ben Gintie’s farm!” He shouted into the tiny trinket. It took off, flying as though it were a real bird, darting into the sky.
“Help’s coming, you guys get to the horses and run, I’ll delay them a bit.”
“No chance!” Isaac wheezed. “We stay toget…” An arrow took him in the side of the head, ringing his bell and sending his dented cap flying off into the bushes.
“Well, That answers that!” Dannyl called, before raising a bone whistle to his lips and blowing an ear shattering blast. The two standing Adventurers fell back to stay with their downed, but still moving comrade.
A faint echoing wail came from the pursuers, seemingly in response to Dannyl’s horrid whistle. Many throats let out a pained squeal in unison and at least one arrow flew off into the sky, released unexpectedly.
He tooted his whistle again, grinning madly. Their screaming, animalistic human wail rose again; it sounded awful and uncomfortable, that was nice to hear.
Colette gave her man a quick check in the cover of a hawthorn bush. “Let’s Move!” Was her only answer to Dannyl’s silent question. She had her comrade up and moving in a few moments, with a stain of violet goo and a little blood on his head.
“Head for the road, Sandi will bring the horses to you.” Dannyl spoke quickly and forcefully, but quietly too. “I have some tricks to play. Don’t wait for me, not even for a minute. Get on the horses and go.” He raised his awful whistle and blasted it out again.
“Go on. I’ve fought these clowns before, my whistle fuzzes out their brains. At least, it’s supposed to.”
With that, the small warrior vanished into the brambles and briars with hardly a sound.
She half dragged the armored man down the trail in the direction of camp and the road. A mile of heavily wooded and overgrown wasteland lay between them and camp, and another four miles to the north road… it was a long way to run.
“Godsdamned Ginger Dreadnought…” She complained, as the horses trotted into view behind Sandi, a few tense minutes later. That terrible whistle continued to sound, retreating up into the hills, leading the wretched creatures away.
Like hideous mockeries of men, they had been mechanically marching around in a hastily cleared piece of badland, aping human ways… poorly. That was what had alerted the Adventurers, they were burning the cleared brush in a pile.
Dannyl had flushed with rage at the first sight of them and insisted on sneaking close.
When he scooted back to her and passed over a leather wrapped parcel the look on his face was mingled rage and triumph.
“They can’t be allowed to get this thing back.” He had whispered fiercely, so she tucked it in her sash and ran, as instructed. Now, miles down the road, she pulled out the ‘McGuffin’ and unwrapped it.
It was an eye, withered, desiccated, dead, but still looking around and peering to and fro with malevolent attention. It was attached to a few inches of formerly rubbery, now semi rigid and hollow flesh.
“Tentacles and eyestalks… always tentacles and eyestalks…” She shuddered and re-wrapped the terrible thing. “Not this time, asswipe.” She whispered into her foul package, while Isaac wobbled in the saddle.
#
The little bird of blackened bone crumbled to dust after singing its song three times to its creator.
“Cultists on the north road, two miles from Ben Gintie’s farm!”
They got their forces moving quickly, with Annie ducking into her own saddle and helping with the others. Liam and Tawny were ready to ride shortly after Gary and Shai, whose shared storage gift made donning armor stupidly quick. A few moments later, the alarm bell in town began to ring the call to arms.
Gary and Shai both pulled out the prototype bike at the same time and wound up holding it side by side in a very confusing way… pulled partway into reality in between both of them at once.
“Ok, love, you get the latest prototype.” Gary relented and pulled a different ‘bike’ from his pants, with a smile.
“Nae, ye smiling rake, ye do still owe me that thing I like…” Shai said with a feral grin, as she mounted the prototype ringmotor bike, mark three.
“Can I get a hint?” Gary called, as he followed on the much more limited mark two, pedaling for all he was worth just to keep up, with the motor flat out.
The horses and ponies followed, stringing out at first, then falling into line as they fell into the rhyme Gary and Shai were chanting.
Born to be… WIILLD!
Shai, Khan and Annie were in the vanguard, along with Orlando, astride Tater and Luna, on Camellia. Gary was in the middle of the pack and whistling for all he was worth. A flock of magpies flapped over and joined the fun, letting him put more energy into pedaling. Liam and Tawny were on Winslow and Magnus, stampeding up the north road in a bubble of invigorating magic.
Another troop of horsemen joined, led by Vera Anglin and a familiar red armored warrior priest. Vera and Telemain Shaheen led a squad of red armored light cavalry onto the road from the uplands gate, driving hard to join the Adventurer irregulars.
Fifteen long minutes later, they spotted a riderless tan pony and two horses with people in the saddle flying down the road and lathered in sweat.
Colette and Isaac dismounted, as Orlando and Luna took their mounts in hand.
“We spotted two dozen suspicious people acting weird in the wilds, five or six miles off the north road, Dannyl recognized them as the cultists we’ve been warned about.” She gasped.
“He stole something called a McGuffin from them… at least that’s what he called it… it looks like a demon eye to me.” She handed Vera a leather wrapped packet with a look of disgust. “I think it’s still alive… sort of.”
“Where’s Dannyl?” Shai demanded, looking eager and worried at once.
“He led them off into the hills, playing some awful whistle. It made them scream and stagger about whenever he blew it.” She answered, her voice steady, but deeply ashamed and worried.
“We’ll get him back, you two, trade mounts with Becky and Orlando.” Vera barked, taking command with confidence. “They are still fresh and will get you to town, we’ll keep your mounts. Turn this thing in to lord Amicus without fail.” She tossed the leather packet back to Colette. “Troop, onward!”
Isaac and Colette were left by the side of the road, neatly bandaged where needed, with fresh mounts and fresh orders. “Godsdamned Ginger Dreadnought…” She fumed tiredly as they mounted up.
#
Dannyl had grown up hunting in the hills, he was no dedicated ranger or woodsman, but these guys were barely able to walk without falling over every stray root or slick stone.
Two had already killed or crippled themselves, falling off a cliff just ‘cause they were idiots. Another died trying to follow him across a fallen log over a rushing, stony river. One toot on his little bone recorder, sent the ungainly puppet of human meat tumbling down among the rapids.
Naturally he had then cut the log almost entirely through from underneath with his chain whip. It still looked sturdy enough…
The loud crack, crash and splash a few minutes later told him that things had gone to plan back there. With a wild giggle, he started circling back toward the north road.
He found a cultist alone, wandering and vulnerable, looking lost. Like a good neighbor, he helped the poor sod out by putting a hatchet in the base of his skull from behind. That solved most of the fellow’s problems, as the slippery young man vanished back into the scrub.
He slipped from one copse of scrubby trees and brush to another, moving slowly and with care. His armor was silent, or very nearly so and had been designed to blend in with these surroundings, even so he felt unsure, something was…
“Ahh, there you are human…” Something whispered from the depths of a manzanita thicket. “Are you the one who defeated Skrigg? No… not you…” A tall, rotund form wrapped in brown robes slid from the shrubbery without a sound, gliding over the loose leaves and twigs silently.
“Either way, you end here, and then I will recover the reliquary of Calyxunat the all seeing and all devouring…”
The enigmatic robed figure was interrupted by the subtle roar of a leashed predator. It thrummed from the small man who calmly faced whatever lurked in those robes.
“You gotta deal with me first… and my friends… hear that?” Dannyl laughed, as the sounds of horses and the clash of arms sounded from down the hill, less than a quarter mile away. “I’ll bet on my guys tearing through yours.”
Without warning, the boy’s whip lashed out, striking like a serpent, almost too fast to see. Even as he attacked, the young man slipped to the left, avoiding a strange, thorn studded vine that lashed at him from inside the robes.
The enchanted whip struck true and its own thorned and jagged links ripped the thing’s robe away, revealing most of its form.
It was a small tree, thorny and tough looking, with long, flexible boughs that lashed and struck at him with surprising agility and quickness. The thing was an animate manzanita bush, flexing and moving its iron hard limbs with animal grace. Wound in and among the branches, Dannyl could see a bright green and slender vine dotted with darling peach colored five petaled flowers and tightly coiled burrs of thorny strands.
It walked on its roots, scampering about with fluid grace, over the broken and uneven terrain.
They struck and dodged, trading attacks and evasions for a few long seconds, until Dannyl’s whip wrapped around a sturdy bough and the creature began drawing the small man closer with a hungry rustle of thorny branches.
Dannyl grinned as the tree creature wrapped more and more of the whip around its limb, not noticing that the whip was cooperating. When the roaring, thundering buzz shook the tree, it was far too late. Thorned and spiked steel chain links began to spin independently, while constricting around the creature. With a shattering squeal of tortured sapwood, the limb fell to the earth, along with a deluge of pale, milky green sap. The whip crawled over the being like a living thing, chewing and tearing at the tough bark, while devastating smaller limbs and branches.
“A friend of mine is going to make musical instruments out of what’s left of you, just so you know…” Dannyl sang, as he released the horribly wrecked thing. The tree creature shook its limbs at him, flinging a wild spray of sap and envenomed cockleburrs at him. He skittered to the left, under the boughs of a big oak and blew his whistle again, raising more awful screams. The wads of spiky vine and milky, probably toxic sap goo sprayed over the undergrowth rather than the wily lad. “Is that all you’ve got?”
The being didn’t answer, instead it fell to the ground, stone dead as the slender green vine mostly hidden inside, turned brown and crumbled.
“Huh, that was easy…” He murmured, as Gary, Shai and Liam charged into his clearing, with Khan and Luna on their flanks.
“Hey guys, I just killed their…!” The world spun wildly as something massive hit him from behind, before everything went black.
#
The Cultists had formed up in a ragged line when the mounted warriors caught them moving through a clearing. Their attempt at defense ended poorly, as the light cavalry of War thundered through their broken line and wheeled for another pass. The mindless goons tried to ply their woodsman's axes and bill hooks, but real troopers in real armor with very pointy lances atop very aggressive horses made them an example of why that was a terrible idea.
The Adventurers rode on, chasing the droning thunder of Dannyl’s whip, no doubt doing something awful to, something awful. They found him in a clearing up the hill, finishing off a strange plant monster with a disdainful flick of his whip.
He grinned and waved from beneath the shade of a mighty oak tree, as they charged up. “Hey guys, I just killed their…!”
That enormous oak stood up behind him and swatted the small man across the clearing in a loose limbed tumble, where he landed among the brush.
“Keep it busy, I have Dannyl!” Liam barked, as he rode full tilt across the dusty clearing, to his fallen brother. Gary and Shai ditched their bikes and approached cautiously, her swords and his baton ready. When the rings on Gary’s weapon started spinning, the creature keyed in on him immediately.
Gary called out. “Let’s trim this shrub.”
#