“What in the Nine Hells was that?”

Sergeant Cloyd and the Vatharian guardsmen under his command in the rear of the formation had dismounted and were marching backwards, as three in the last row had already disappeared.

He had told Sir Hargest that crossing the border to pursue Count Rassler was a bad idea. Cloyd had met some of their soldiers before, at a Pelsan embassy outreach day, in which a group of visiting orc and buggebear border guards had tried to teach his squad buggebearovite crafts, dances, and the traditional buggebears game of "hide-and-where-the-hell-are-they-o-we-give-up." Some publicity goblin in the Pelsan embassy had thought that a good idea, and his now-former lord, Count Rassler, had agreed.

In truth, the crafts hadn’t been a big hit with the squad. They found the study of turning skulls into painted drinking mugs rather disturbing, even if only giant snake skulls had been used during the crafts day. Afterwards though they all went out drinking and the orcs and especially the buggebears had impressed for both their beverage capacity and their arm wrestling strength. Even more impressive was that the buggebears had been right sneaky bastards. Every time you turned around, there was one right behind you. Still, decent fellows, overall. Cloyd still had his skull drinking cup and used it fondly for brewing tea on cold nights.

They were now a couple of hours into the territory of Pelsa, and things were going decidedly weird.

The horses seemed nervous, as did all the men except Sir Bowen himself, who kept driving them on. A mist periodically appeared, then would disappear after a random interval. A giant wolf appeared every ten minutes or so, first ahead, then behind, then close, then far. Six men out of the fifty who had entered Pelsa had disappeared: four city guardsmen who’d made up the back row of the formation, the two scouts that had been sent ahead.

Next to Cloyd marched Private Efrog Kemble, who looked a picture of despair. His leather armor hung on him loosely, with the guard tabard over it covered in mud. All his clothing was soaked, and the young man couldn’t stop shivering while he marched. His thick brown hair was matted to his head.

Cloyd knew he himself looked about the same, with the addition of thirty years and forty pounds. He felt worse than he looked, and guessed his men felt likewise. The ones who hadn’t disappeared. Yet.

Cloyd was considering how to best disobey orders and make a run for it back to Keley with his remaining squad when the giant wolf appeared out of the mists at the top of the ridge to their right, and that didn’t entirely help his mental state.

Everyone in the invading force looked over at the giant wolf, and the crossbowmen took aim, awaiting orders. Those others who hadn’t already drew their weapons.

Behind him, Sergeant Cloyd heard a thud and a muffled “humfakhafra.” When he turned around, there was a gap where a soldier should have been in the formation.

“Oh, hells. They got Private Kemble! Look alert men! The buggies must be right next to us!” Cloyd called to his squad.

Further calls went out and the entire column halted. Cloyd and the dozen men closest to him stepped into the underbrush off the path, poking it with their swords, searching for what might lurk there. As each moment passed, Cloyd had less and less hope of seeing Kemble alive again.

Suddenly the giant wolf appeared again, on the ridge, but much closer, just a dozen yards away.

Cloyd glanced to his right and suddenly felt himself enclosed in a fuzzy warm darkness. He tried to scream out but felt a furry paw over his mouth. He was picked up and carried quickly into the forest.

After a minute, his capturer removed his paw and Cloyd could see was surrounded by monsters. There were four buggebears: seven-feet tall, covered in dark fur, teeth the size of his fingers, hands like bear paws, only with longer claws.

The large spotted one directly in front of him said “Cloyd, hey man! It is great to see you! How is Elsy?”

The monster raised his paw as if to strike, its muddy claws just a few feet from Cloyd’s face. It took Cloyd a second to process what was going on, but then he too raised his hand, and gave the monster a hesitant high-five.

“Oh thank the gods, it's you, Dorchy!” Cloyd breathed out slowly, trying to steady himself. “Whoa, guy, you really scared the hells out of me! You should have let us know it was you all messing with us. We’ve been terrified since we crossed the border.”

Cloyd remembered Dorchy from the Buggebear and Orc Outreach Day he’d attended along with many of the City Guard in Keley. Cloyde had come in last in the buggebears’ “Sneakiest Human'' competition, while Kemble had won. Cloyd and his wife, Elsy, had later hosted Dorchy and his wife Amanka for a sailing trip on Elsy’s family’s fishing boat, which the buggebears had been nervous about at first, but then seemed to enjoy as they got used to being on the water.

The formerly missing Private Kemble was standing next to the monsters, and somehow Kemble still had his sword in his scabbard. One of the buggebears was scritching a giant wolf. The wolf licked Cloyd across the face and gave a couple of wags with her tail, which Cloyd hoped meant they weren’t about to eat Cloyd. Or, alternately, he wondered if it might be a taste test. Its intentions were not clear.

Cloyd wanted to make sure. “Right. Dorchy, I surrender, by the way. I have a sword at my side, a dagger, and … Where’s my crossbow, I had a crossbow too. You can have them. Just tie me up, I won’t resist.”

Kemble patted his sword. “Sarge, I think they are letting us keep our weapons. I mean, I guess if we don’t do anything stupid.”

“Kemble, you’re okay? They haven’t hurt you?”

“No, sarge. Of course they didn’t hurt me. It’s Dorchy and the guys!”

The other three buggebears waved.

“Oh, you guys, right, I’m really sorry we crossed your border. We didn’t want to! I swear by all the gods!” explained Cloyd.

The brown buggebear with white spots, whom Cloyd remembered was named Private Maalik, answered in a silky voice, with the same almost-native accent that Dorchy had. “You didn’t want to? Then what in the hells were you doing? You should not have crossed the border without permission! It was kind of rude.”

“Look, it wasn’t my idea. Very much not my idea. Or anything any of the city guards wanted to do. We knew it wouldn’t go the way they thought it would. You see, the knights Sir Bowen and Sir Hargest showed up at our barracks yesterday and commandeered our whole squad. They said we needed to help them catch Count Rassler.”

“Was Rassler the young human male who rode past the border with two humans and our guy Mirko?” asked Dorchy. “Our boss said to let them pass.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

“Yeah, that's probably Rassler. I actually like the guy. He seemed good for a noble, and all. But the knights said he was a traitor to King Neydon and needed to be brought in, and there were over forty men with them and only eight of us at the station., so we had to join their hunt. They didn’t even tell us where we were going until we found ourselves riding across the border with those bastards. And then you guys started terrifying us! ”

The monster shrugged and raised his paws in exasperation. “I mean, terrifying you all was the whole thing we were going for. And capturing. I think we have most of the guys from Keley we know now.”

“Yes. I assure you that me and my men will behave honorably as your prisoners!” Cloyd said, beginning to suspect he might yet live, and preferring being a prisoner of reasonable monsters to following crazy human knights on an invasion.

“Oh, you are not our prisoners. Just behave yourselves. No more invading,” said Dorchy.

“But, if we are not prisoners, what is this? What is going on?”

Kemble joined in. “Sarge, I think this is a rescue mission. We’ve been rescued!”

"Yes, we are rescuing you from what will happen to you if we don’t rescue you,” said Maalik. “Like if King Jend or Queen Aida found you humans invading, and we hadn’t gotten you out yet, you all would either be blown up or eaten by plants. In either case there wouldn’t be enough left of you to make kebabs. And you are some of our favorite humans, so we wouldn't feel right about eating you."

"Um, yes, and I thank you,” Cloyd said. "That is very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it. And if the situation were reversed, I hope and trust that my men would do the same."

“Well, our male human guests,” Maalik said, “we would be happy if you just didn’t invade our country. Were we not good neighbors? We let your merchants in, we sold you iron, we kept our dragons from eating your sheep. Our goblins vastly improved your water and the sewers. What have we done to provoke this incursion?”

“As far as I know you didn’t do anything. I think this is a Vatharian problem. It just spilled over and dragged us all into it. The new king has something against Count Rassler, and rather than show up and face the accusations, Rassler made a run for it. Into Pelsa. Sir Bowen said we needed to bring Rassler back dead or alive. Said it would be fast and easy. I don’t think he thought you all would fight back.”

Dorchy stepped in and started motioning the group to move toward where a stream cut through the forest. “Rassler is being watched, and it will fall to our leaders as to what to do with him. Your Sirs Hargest and Bowen need to be taught a lesson, however, and that is our job. I’ve just heard the report that the last two men from your squad have been rescued, so we are ready to head to the meeting point, where our commander, Sir Histel, is preparing his attack. The rest of your men should be there, Sergeant.”

Cloyd and Kemble fell into line among the buggebears, as they headed north, following a path running slightly upwards, along a stream bed. Cloyd thought he was being very quiet, but he got a few stern looks from the buggebears and was told that he was making too much noise three times in the twenty-minute journey.

At a point near the start of rocky hills, the humans were blindfolded. A few moments later, Cloyd felt a cool dampness that told him they were stepping into a cave. With no wind it became even quieter than before. The blindfolds were taken off and they went through the cave for another ten minutes, almost unable to see a thing, as the only light was a small torch they gave to Kemble to hold. They came to the cave exit, and in the large cavern right inside the cave mouth Cloyd was greeted by the rest of his squad, who’d been playing cards, except for two of the men who were taking a nap.

Corporal Derfel Goff, an older, wiry man, who’d been in the Guard a good deal longer than even Cloyd, stood up first, gave a brief salute, and started heading to Cloyd.

He was beaten by Private Fithen, a large young man who rushed over and grabbed Kemble and gave him a big bear hug. He then started towards Cloyd.

“Sarge, you're here! You made it! We were worried about you!”

Cloyd backed off a bit before the young man could give him a hug too, but he was genuinely happy to see his whole squad alive and well in the cave. An hour ago he’d been sure they were all about to die, and here they were, safe, although perhaps prisoners of sorts. He wondered how the knights and their Royal Army’s men-at-arms were faring.

“Guys, it is very good to see you. Any injuries, or are you all whole?”

Fithen replied in his loud voice, “No, Sarge, we are doing great. A couple scratches, I have a bit of a rash, and we all smell, but the Pelsan guys have been great to us. We have some venison stew left if you want some.”

Cloyd spotted the food and went to get a bowl, as Goff handed it to him. He was getting a bit slow, now that he was older. Usually, guardsmen spotted food right away. “Yeah, I might just have some.”

When Cloyd was just a few spoonfuls into the stew, Corporal Goff sat down next to him and motioned toward the door of the cave. The buggebears seemed distracted, as another group of their comrades were arriving.

Goff said quietly to Cloyd, “Look, Sarge, they’ve been preparing to attack the other Vatharians. I think they are linking up with another group of the monsters, so it won’t be long now. It looks like they are just going to leave us here. When they head out, do we make a run for it, or attack the buggies from behind?”

“Goff, I’d always thought you were the smart one of the squad. No way in the hells are we going to try to attack the buggebears – we are deep in their territory and they would massacre us before we got our swords out of our scabbards. This isn’t our fight anyway. You and I served Count Rassler loyally for years. I was in his personal guard for two years. He’s okay. Bit of a rascal, but treated me and the men all right. Now we got two knights, claiming to represent the king - a new king we hardly know and who has never been to Keley - showing up and getting us out of our beds and ordering us to help them with what is probably the worst idea I’ve heard in my life. I’m not going to risk my life and yours on this idiotic adventure.”

“Sarge, yeah, but our guys are human, and we need to go back to Keley. King Neydon is still our king, and bad things happen if you don’t do what your king says. Sir Bowen is close to the king, they all say. If we help him, it can help us.”

“Yes, yes, man, I know very well who Sir Bowen is. He was in Keley two years ago when we did the training on border defense with the Royal Army. He was an arrogant bastard then, as he still is now. He has no idea of what the creatures of Pelsa can do, and what they are like. He thinks Pelsa is made of vile cowards, who steal babies, hit you from behind, and run away if you fight back.”

Cloyd paused as he realized that the part about them hitting you from behind was accurate, but that was still a very sound reason to not attack buggebears while in their own territory.

Goff tried one more time. “I’ve known you a long time Cloyd, and you’ve often asked my opinion, even though you outrank me and all, and I appreciate that. I’m just telling you that we can’t be on the wrong side here. We got to choose right. Think of our future in Keley. I don’t want to have to come live with the monsters.”

“Corporal Goff, really, I have heard and understand your advice. But I have made up my mind. We were taken prisoner, brought here under guard, and we have no chance of escape. Everyone here can testify to that.”

Private Talfryn Bivens, who’d been nearby and listening, looked over, nodded, and said “Oh, yeah. Very, very true. I was on the Outreach Day. I saw them in action. We’d make it maybe a hundred feet before we were killed. We wouldn’t even see it coming. No way I’m going to attack the buggebears. They treat us better than Bowen did anyway.”

“You see what I mean, Goff? You need to rethink things. We are just going to wait this one out here, lay low, and then head back as a squad when they let us.

“Okay, Sarge. But isn’t it ‘if they let us?’ Are we really sure we aren’t prisoners?”

“Goff, if they wanted us dead, we’d already be dead. And they know Vathary doesn’t care about us, so we aren’t worth anything in ransom. Some of the knights might be though.”

Bivens smiled. “I’m almost rooting the buggebears on.”

Cloyd looked over at Bivens. “Steady there.”

Goff didn’t say a thing.

Outside the cave there was a lot of commotion. Even some shouts in what sounded like a greeting.

Cloyd and Goff stepped outside the cave to see what was going on. At first glance, it looked like a pack of wolves had arrived. At second glance, they saw there were goblins mounted on the wolves, plus a hyena for some reason, and they were led by one of the biggest orcs ever seen, on a massive black horse. At third glance they saw that the last wolves to arrive were much bigger than all the rest, and there were two young women riding them. Riding a horse next to the two young ladies, just where you’d expect him to be, was Count Rassler.

Cloyd sighed. “Dammit Rassler, you are supposed to be running for your life, not picking up women…”

An older buggebear, with gray fur and wearing a black silk waistcoat stepped forward and saluted the orc, then kneeled before the young women. The whole squad of buggebears kneeled with him.

Goff counted the newly-arrived wolves and their companions.

"Yes, okay, you are right. Forget I said anything,” he said to Cloyd.