Dungeon 42

Seekers

Chapter 152

After four changes of horse and nearly a week of traveling before they reached the Strom-forsaken desert, a cheer went up among the Seekers. The demihumans they’d been tracking were flagging and about to find themselves between the holy order and a stone wall.

Captain Jonus didn’t join his men’s cheering. In his mind, they shouldn’t have been led on for so long and the campaign had resulted in unnecessary expenses. Two of their mount requisitions hadn’t even occurred at official outposts and meant dealing with peasants. A dreary affair that had cost them time and coin.

What little good cheer Jonus had managed to gather quickly subsided. Ahead of them loomed a mountain range, one he knew was named for some harlot demi-human goddess. Facts he was only familiar with because there was a call for volunteers to inspect it in the near future since some manner of star had fallen to earth in the area and then a ‘hero party’ had disappeared there not long after.

Such losses weren’t uncommon, hardly remarkable given the danger of the work hero groups undertook. What had stood out was the complete lack of witnesses and follow-up reports. As if the mountains had swallowed the group whole, bones and all.

While Jonus was considering the matter, a volley of arrows was loosed and one of them managed to strike down a smaller rabbit man. Against sense, two of the others dropped back, one of them taking the injured one on its back. They resumed their flight then, slowed by the pointless act of mercy.

Jonus saw it as an omen, they were doing Strom’s work and their enemies would fall. He signaled his men to slow as they came to the rock wall. The demihumans had slipped inside a break in the stone and his company would have to reform into a column to pursue.

“That's ambush country,” Tim Char offered. He was the leader of the small group of mercenaries the Seekers had been forced to employ when their normal reinforcements had failed to appear. He was also a source of one of the larger expenses for the campaign and therefore one of Jonus’s least favorite people at present.

“They're exhausted, the ground won’t matter,” Lessner said with a sneer. Tim looked back at him placidly.

“If you say so,” Tim replied with a shrug.

Jonus ignored the exchange, intent on getting everyone in formation rather than arguing with the spear fodder. Entering what turned out to be a maze in an orderly manner, we were quickly forced from the standard double column to a single. Thankfully the path was shaded and led to an open area large enough to accommodate the company.

“Bastards,” Lessner muttered, glaring at the way they’d come. The mercenaries had been at the end of the column, or should have been had they actually followed along.

“Just look at it as us saving money,” Jonus said with a bit of a smile. The mercenaries were paid a portion upfront but the remainder came at the end. It would make up quite a lot of the expenses they’d incurred and was already an approved expenditure. They shared a nod, knowing it was the mercenaries who were fools to abandon a job when they were on the brink of being paid.

“Now, we'll split into three groups. You and Hubert will lead,” Jonus decided after a few moments. There were three possible paths to follow, though only one had a bit of a blood trail at the head of it. It wouldn’t do to go chasing the demi-humans in a circle though, if the trails merged further in.

After taking some time to distribute personnel and move supplies around, three groups were formed. Jonus, Lessner, and Hubert each stood before the three paths, a sword balancing on point held between them. They all let go at the same time but Jonus was pleased to note that Hubert had a bit of sense and pushed it slightly away from himself.

“Well gentlemen, I’ll be going first,” Jonus said with a grin. As captain, he had the honor of taking the first selected path and his would be the blood-stained one. He headed off without a backwards glance, eager to get back on the chase.

As Jonus departed Lessner fought down a grimace. It wasn’t guaranteed but he’d hoped to be blessed with the bloodstained path. That he hadn’t wasn’t anything more than the captain being rewarded for his dedication, but it still rankled.

“Shall we?” Lessner asked Hubert. Peasant or not they were both seekers and it wouldn’t do to snub the other man.

“No need, take whichever path you prefer,” Hubert said with a deferential nod. Lessner took that in and considered it for a moment. Jonus had wanted to leave the matter up to chance and thus be fair, but clearly Hubert knew his place.

“Very well… good hunting to you,” Lessner said, genuinely even. He signaled for his men to form up and they took the second path. Hubert watched Lessner go but didn’t signal for his men to form up.

A few moments after he was free of the scrutiny of his superiors Hubert turned to his group of men. Out of forty he’d been left with ten and sighed at the dodgy math resulting in such an outcome. The other two talked about fairness and brotherhood, but the emptiness of their words always made itself known eventually.

“Since the Captain and Vice Captain are on the hunt, we’ll take an hour's rest and have prayers before joining in,” Hubert said. The group didn’t look terribly happy until he said the magic word. There was nothing like a chance to get in a word with Strom to turn their moods right around.

“Yes sir!” came the uncoordinated agreement. Hubert just nodded, not bothering to put on airs. He wasn’t what anyone would normally consider officer material and didn’t let himself forget.

Lowborn and barely educated, what set Hubert apart and got him in the Seekers was his ability to recite the book of Strom from memory. An ability seen as virtue enough to make up for his other deficiencies, regardless of how he’d come by the ability. That and a healthy sense of self-preservation had earned him his place in Jonus’s company. The captain hadn’t been impressed with the up-jumped son of a holy pamphlet printer, but he appreciated a subordinate who knew their place.

While Jonus and Lessner began their hunt and Hubert’s group took a rest, Tim Char and his men were riding toward the nearest post town.

“Boss, won’t they spread word we ran?” Kant asked. It was a valid question and Tim could see it in the faces of the others, though they hadn’t had the guts to ask yet.

“Your horse want to go in that maze?” Tim asked.

“No?” Kant replied, clearly confused.

“Well, I for one am not dumber than a horse. It’s ambush country and those idiots aren't likely to come out of it alive. Besides, do any of you want to do business with Stromholt again?” Tim asked.

“No,” came the resolute reply.

“Thought not,” Tim said with a snort. He considered taking Seeker money a bad idea. Following them into a stone maze would have been the dumbest thing he’d ever done in a long career of questionable decisions.

“Yeah, fuck’em,” Axel called happily. He liked traveling as much as anything and was always happy to hear they were going somewhere new.

“Once we reach a town we’ll pick a new territory, maybe change the company name,” Tim added. That got some thoughtful nods and the last of the tension bled from the group. They’d lose the benefit of the reputation they’d built up, but it wouldn’t matter much. They’d been small time and would have had to start from scratch anyway.

As they rode, Tim glanced back a final time at the smudge of an entrance, hand going to his face. He’d never let on, but he’d gotten the burn that resulted in Char being added to his name from some kind of magic flame courtesy of a war caster.

Since then whenever Tim had gotten close to anything even a little magical, it would start to tingle a bit and he’d always taken that as a sign to stay clear. When they’d been riding up to the maze entrance his face had ached so badly it had been as if the wound were fresh again. He didn’t know what was waiting in the shade of those stones, but no amount of money would have lured him within. Gold only mattered if you were alive to spend it.