Dark Obligations: Book One of the Phantom Badgers (12 page)

Alone in the abandoned halls, violent death or starvation constant threats, Rolf’s only real chance to escape would have to turn himself in to one of the various bands of Void-worshippers who raided these halls, but his mother had commanded him to never stand with evil, to always remain brave and steadfast. So for eight years, alone in the dark, buried under a mountain, he had stood fast to his beliefs, he had done no evil, he had not betrayed the Eight or the Light. He believed that his mother would have been proud.

It was his Orcish forbearers who had kept him alive, however, the stubborn Orcish drive to survive, the rugged health that made him nearly immune to disease, the fierceness that had been harnessed but never vanquished by his mother’s love. Rolf had not only survived, he had fought back, killing no small number of Felher, Goblins, and other dark servitors who crossed his path.

He sat before them, shy and stunned by the sudden change in his luck, a terribly thin figure half a foot taller than six feet with a bone structure intended to carry far more weight than he did, his course olive skin and lack of hair giving a brutal guise to his features that his soulful amber eyes contested. He was dressed
only in clean, much-repaired rags, yet was armed with a double-bitted battle axe fully as long as Starr was tall, and a pair of dirks worn cross-draw, all three weapons masterpieces of Dwarven craft, richly inlaid and razor sharp; while it was possible to loot weapons within the hold, clothing and armor was nearly impossible to come by, especially for one of his height,.

Having determined that his story was true and his allegiances were not with the Void, the panel swore him in as a member of the Phantom Badgers with the normal entry rank of Auxiliary, and issued him four day’s rations, an action which moved the half-Orc to tears. In restitution, he presented Trellan with a fine Dwarven dagger, and
Kroh with a set of whetstones in atonement for his actions. Surprisingly, the belligerent Dwarf took the situation far better than the ex-sailor.

The waiting was nothing new to Gabriella; she sat on her bedroll and nibbled dried apricots while she watched the corridor her post was assigned to guard, her loaded sling to hand and her two-handed war hammer leaning against the wall within easy reach. The Badgers had located their cache, which was a hidden room used as part of the Dwarven defensive works, where they had left some heavy tools and odds and ends that they had not had portage capacity to haul out on their last raid. From it they had taken a block and tackle assembly which might be helpful once they entered the
raith
, and tools for removing the tiles from the anvil-block. In the smithy areas behind her Durek and Kroh were laboriously gathering the tiles they needed to pay off their construction contract while the rest of the raiders rested or stood guard.

The first task accomplished meant t
he second would be not far away and the dark knife-fighter was glad for it; like most of the Badgers she had studied the Dwarven maps and even made notes to herself to better guide her should she have to find her way out on her own, but Rolf’s plight had hardly been unique in the history of this place, and Gabriella did not want to have to count on such luck to regain the surface.

So far the foray had been gifted with good fortune: they had had only one small skirmish which cost them nothing, and they had even gained a recruit. In an hour or so the Dwarves should have finished
gathering enough tiles for their purposes, and they would be off after the books, arriving at the site sometime ‘tomorrow’, the concepts of day and night fading in this unchanging world. With luck, they would be back on the surface in four or five days, as the return trip would be swifter than the trip down.

Or so she hoped.

‘Night’ camp was made not l
ong after entering the last
cidhe
; Durek had hoped to camp very near the entrance to the
raith
, but recruiting Rolf had cost them too much time. Their camp was made in a warehouse whose main entrance was near a still-functioning fountain, providing the Badgers not only with drinking water but also the means to bathe.

Morale was high due in no sma
ll part to Rolf’s novelty value: the skinny half-Orc was in deep culture-shock after having spent so many years alone, but it was possible to drag comments and answers from him if one was patient. Of greater entertainment value were his two trained cave rats, Eek and Squeak, the latter being the son of the former. Eek was a glossy black monster weighing nearly twelve pounds and easily as large as a house cat, with the characteristic short, fuzzy tail that, besides his size, set him apart from the ordinary rodent and made him resemble the larger sort of guinea pig. It was Eek who had delivered the strip map to the Badgers, having been taught to perform a wide variety of tricks by his master, both for entertainment and practical means, tricks the husky creature was happy to demonstrate for small rewards of food. His child was far less trained and much more shy, crouching on his master’s shoulders and chittering unhappily whenever anyone drew too near.

Durek
watched the antics of his raiders as he tended to his weapons and armor, glad that their morale was improving, for by this time tomorrow they would have scouted the area of the mud pit and have a clear idea of the task ahead of them. He finished oiling his breast and back plates and began with his weapons, first his axe, then his belt dagger, and finishing with his dirk, a beautiful weapon that had started life out as a Dwarven short sword, well-forged and richly engraved. Durek had left the point and two inches of the blade buried in the spine of a great carnivorous fish called a water drake while rescuing Gabriella from its attentions in a cold mountain lake some years ago. A master Dwarfen sword smith had been able to restore a point and adjust the balance so it became a very serviceable dirk without ruining the weapon’s temper, but the engraving had suffered very badly in the process.

The Captain ey
ed the newcomer while he worked, as any new Badger was a source of concern in a Company as small as the Phantom Badgers. Proper militaries such as were fielded by nations could absorb misfits and failures without serious effect, but in a unit of thirty-odd warriors there was scant margin for error. Rolf’s unusual manner of entry was of little concern in and of itself as several Badgers past and present had been recruited under unusual circumstances, Nuilia as a good example, and the Company had not suffered. Mercenary units took their recruits where they found them, and veterans whenever they could. Over the years the Badgers had developed fairly sophisticated methods for screening their applicants, a process which had not failed them to date, and Durek hoped that that record could be sustained. As a common precaution, however, the half-Orc would not be put on the guard roster or tasked with any crucial task until he had proven himself to the satisfaction of the Company hierarchy, competence being as much a concern as allegiance to the Eight and unit loyalty.

Rolf’s being a half-breed was of small concern to
Durek, although he knew that it was a source of prejudice in many realms, both Human and demi-Human, especially if they were of Orcish or Goblin stock. Although they were guiltless, half-Orcs and half-Goblins were blamed for the depredations and atrocities caused by their forbearers, no matter how the individual was raised. However, since mercenaries were generally looked down upon by most citizens of civilized nations, the presence of a half-Orc could hardly impact upon the Badger’s popularity. If Rolf worked out, he could stay.

‘Morning’ underground came too soon, just as it did on the surface; with the usual grumbling and complaints the Badgers broke camp and prepared to move out. The highlight of the morning came when Rolf was observed feeding and grooming the
komad
despite warnings to avoid the sadistic brutes, and what was even more shocking was that the half-Orc was able to do it without serious injury. Accordingly, Durek put him in charge of the pack animals, a job that would both take an unpleasant duty from the veterans and keep the untested recruit in the center of the formation where he could be watched and kept out of trouble.

This last
cidhe
was noticeably different than the previous city sections they had traversed, as this was the youngest area in
Gradrek Heleth
. The level of decoration was much less here than anywhere else, and considerable amounts of space had not yet been excavated into usable quarters when the halls were abandoned, the city having not fully ‘grown’ into the area. It gave the place a certain unfinished look, an unlived-in appearance that only increased the Badger’s unease. There were fewer signs of despoilment by intruders here, although the effects of looting were just as widespread. The Badgers moved with as much caution as they had before, however; although they might be off the beaten track insofar as
Gradrek Heleth
was concerned, the dangers remained as real as anywhere else in the hold.

It was nearing ‘noon’ when
Durek located the entrance into the
raith
that they had been looking for, an old Felher siege tunnel that broke through into a Dwarven warehouse complex, a simple shaft hacked out of the stone leading still deeper into and under the mountain. Durek called for a midday break before entering the tunnel, not wanting to waste any time once they entered the wild underlands.

Kroh
came and sat with his Captain while the Badgers took their afternoon meal, and the two discussed the terrain and problems that could be expected within the
raith
, a region both had serious misgivings about, based more on cultural mores than actual facts.

Their conversation was interrupted when they noticed Iron Tusk, free of her pack saddle for the duration of the break, sidling towards Robin, who was carelessly sitting with his back to the beast. “He’s in for a stomping,”
Kroh observed, squinting to hold a slice of dried green apple in one eye socket in the manner of a monocle.

“If they weren’t so u
seful when the chips are down we would have a barbecue,” Durek nodded, trying to catch Robin’s eye. Both Dwarves were startled when Rolf whistled sharply, if not over-loudly, but they were truly stunned when the
komad
hesitated, then turned away from her unwitting intended victim and moved to the half-Orc, who produced a curry brush and began working at the sow’s ears while the gray-muzzled beast (which had outlived two riders and once routed a half-dozen Goblin wolf-riders by herself) sat back on her haunches and peacefully let him groom her.

Durek
shook his head, speechless. The two
komad
had been with the Badgers since the Company’s formation, and although they had routinely displayed courage, intelligence, stamina, deep-seated sadism, a weakness for strong drink and a willingness to commit burglary to obtain same, they had stubbornly refused to obey any save the most basic commands, and even those had to be periodically re-enforced with bribery. Outside of combat they teetered on the brink of mutiny on a good day, and good days were not overly common. “That’s incredible.”

“The females fuss over him, too,”
Kroh sneered. “Even Janna’s nice to him, and she’s not much easier to deal with than Iron Tusk. It’s enough to make you want to retch.”

Durek
nodded, frowning absently; the new Badger was definitely making an impact on the unit, quiet type or not.

The roughly hewed siege tunnel ran straight and unchanging for six hundred paces, sloping smoothly downward so that at its end they were perhaps fifty feet below
Gradrek Heleth
. The tunnel terminated in a huge natural fissure that extended upwards for twenty feet and to either side far out of sight, the walls and ceiling pockmarked with cracks and crevices, and the floor littered with rock falls and rubble. Peton moss flourished in great reefs here and there, brought in by the Felher to aid their work and spreading out over the decades so that it was very nearly as bright as in the city itself. Travel was harder given the uncertain footing, but the Badgers went forward with a will, eager to come to grips with their last objective. They followed the great fissure for nearly a mile, carefully painting marks here and there to aid their return, before turning down an old water runoff channel which made for easy walking, sloping ever further downward for a half-mile until it opened into another fissure.

As they travelled they saw signs of the Felher’s handiwork, mainly rotting transport carts, passages widened by tool
-work, graffiti and directions carved into stone walls and half-covered with limestone drippings. Rats, bats, and ordinary spiders were much in evidence, as were the colonies of peton moss.

Kroh
found a few worn bones and a glaive nearly rusted away to nothing; from the faint tool marks on the corroded polearm he determined that the remains were that of a Felher. “Spider got a rat,” he grinned, tossing aside the badly pitted weapon. “I hate spiders, killed dozens, I have.”

“Titan spiders
? But I haven't seen any webs,” Starr observed; the great tree dwelling spiders were a common danger in the forests.

“Rock Titans; they don’t make webs, they just jump out on you, twenty feet at a hop.” Seeing the wide-eyed look of horror on the young Threll, the Wa
ybrother backpedaled. “But they would never mess with a large group, just individuals, and they mostly just eat cave rats.”