Dark Obligations: Book One of the Phantom Badgers (36 page)

Moving carefully, the big half-Orc slipped to the sentry’s tree and mounted the steps nailed into the trunk; a solid thump from the butt of his crossbow sent the sentry into a much deeper level of unconsciousness.

When Rolf whistled Starr sent Kroh and Hergar into the farm house, leaving Gremheld on guard, and went to recover her arrow, a lengthy task that ended with her spitting a stream of oaths in
Fiadaich
, the Dwarven language, as her native tongue was sadly lacking in effective profanity: the shaft of the arrow was blackened and split. The enchantment held within it had weakened with use, finally failing altogether. It was a bitter blow as she had been presented with four such shafts when she had first left the Forest, and two others had failed in the months since, so the loss of this shaft left her with only one more.

The raiders gathered in front of th
e farm house to compare notes, the bound and gagged sentry leaning against the crumbling building. “Hajo Ehrler,” Hergar let the dazed cultist’s head drop back on his chest. “There’s three more brothers: Hector, Hanns, and Hermann.”

“He’s a member of the Assembly,” Rolf blew on his hands. “I found a tattoo on his chest.”

“There’s about fifty lumps of yellow stuff in there.” Kroh pointed into the farm house. “Wrapped up in sacking and sealed in boxes. They kind of look like peeled spuds, sort of, but a lot bigger, nearly pumpkin-sized.”

“Good, we’re doing well.” Starr shivered despite her armor and coat. “We’ll destroy the poison with the vinegar we brought, just as the Doctor instructed, and then pay a visit to the rest of the Ehrlers.”

“Might as well deal with this one right now,” Kroh suggested, raising his axe.

“No.” Starr’s tone brooked no argument. “He might know something useful, and taking ano
ther prisoner will be difficult since I have only one more arrow that causes sleep, and I don’t want to risk using it.”

“Might as well get to work then,” Kroh hefted his vinegar-filled canteen and shook it thoughtfully. “I wonder how the Mayor’s doing in
town?”

Rudolf Sleiger had not had a worse day, or night, in his life. Aside from that, things were progressing apace: from the Badger’s cottage he had gone to his home, donned his mail shirt and armed himself. He checked both his teenaged sons for tattoos while he gave his wife a thumbnail sketch of the night’s events, and bade them to stay behind locked doors until he returned. The three then went to Doctor Drewes’ home where Drewes picked up a few items, before proceeding to the Fisher Hawk, which had just closed, where they checked and recruited Claus Becker, his son, and three husky tavern workers. Jospur Kilner, the town’s boatwright was next; he, his two sons, and five apprentices and journeymen were checked and rallied to the cause.

Now sixteen strong, they marched to the Watch House, where they found two of the Watch officers. When the Mayor ordered the two to strip to be checked for cult
tattoos, one went for his sword only to die with a Lanthrell arrow through his heart; the other complied and now sat in one of the town’s two cells, having been exposed as a cultist.

Sleiger formally activated the Militia, swearing Halabarian in as a
n acting member, and issued arms and armor from the Militia Armory to those who lacked them. Becker and Kilner (both of whom held the rank of Corporal in the Militia) were made acting Serjeants; Becker was left in charge of the Watch House with three Militiamen while Kilner secured the Armory with two more.

The Mayor, with Halabarian, the Doctor, and six well-armed men now proceeded to several other residences to aw
aken men he had known for years and whom he forced to strip at spear point, having decided that the excuse about a mysterious disease was too complex; those without tattoos joined his ranks, and any bearing the marks of the Scarlet Web were clapped in irons.

It was nearing dawn when he led his f
orce back to the center of town where three men and two women joined the cultist in the cells, and thirty-four men drew arms and armor. When all were armed and equipped Sleiger sent two to help Becker, added four to his group, and split the rest into three seven-man squads, each with a corporal or acting corporal in charge. These squads were sent to guard the waterfront defenses and the town palisade.

Halabarian approached the Mayor as he stood conferring with the Town Clerk, Felix Kahn (who had been one of the four added to the Mayor’s section), and coughed to get his attention. “It will be dawn soon,” he prompted gently.

“Yes, I know,” Sleiger sighed. “Time to have a word with Forst and some of the other questionable types. Neither Meyer nor the other Watch officer has showed up so far; I suppose they’re cultists as well, off on some evil business or another.” He shook his head. “I grew up with Friedrich Forst and his wife-neither was what you would call a close friend, but I never thought they would have anything to do with murder cults. Still, there’s six people in the cells, and three of them lived their whole lives in this area. This town will never be the same.”

“It would have been worse if the cultists had been able to carry out their plan,” the Threll reminded him. “We must do what we must do.”

“That is so,” Sleiger nodded. “And let us do it now.”

Two militia men covered each of the Forst house’s sides
and back as the Mayor marched up to the front door, followed by Halabarian, the Doctor, and the remaining four militiamen. “There should be six inside: the four Forsts, and two servants,” Sleiger remarked after hammering on the door. He was reaching up to knock again when the bolt shot back and a sleepy maid looked out at them from the depths of a blanket wrapped about her shoulders.

“Stand aside, girl,” the Mayor pushed the maid to one side and entered, followed by the rest of the section; two of the militiamen and the Doctor carried lanterns which filled the foyer with light. “Right,
you
, guard this door. Doctor, examine this girl, and then the other maid, their room is back off the kitchen, Kahn go with him.” The Mayor gestured to the Town Clerk. “The rest of you follow me, wait, you with the lantern, light a couple of those candles in that holder so the foyer guard has light. Good, now let’s go.”

A few minutes later the section gathered in the foyer again, accompanied by Jolla, Edmund, and Hansine Forst. Th
e two young people were silent but Jolla Forst, the brewer’s wife, was somewhat alarmed, and very vocal about it.

“Neither of the maids,” Drewes announced as the Forsts filed down the stairs.

“Neither of the maids
what
, Rudolf? Really, what is going
on
, sir?” Jolla was a large woman, tall enough so that she could look most of the men in the room in the eye.

“We have discovered that there is a proscribed cult in and around Hohenfels, Jolla,” Sleiger began wearily. “We have killed five and captured six so far. The cultists are identifiable by tattoos required by their faith. The Doctor shall examine you and your daughter while one of my men sees to Edmund.”

“You can’t really believe that
we
could be involved in such a thing?”

“I have my doubts, Jolla, but we hav
e to check, as Friedrich’s name keeps coming up in connection with this entire debacle. By the way, where
is
your husband tonight?”

Jolla’s face was calm, even serene. “I wouldn’t know, exactly; no doubt about a
n honest man’s business, which is far more than I could say about the rest of you. You always were an upstart, Rudolf Sleiger, and I’ll be damned before I let your weasel of an herb-crusher see
me
naked, nor my daughter either.”

The mayor shook his head tiredly. “Put them in chains. Kill any who resist.”

Jolla opened her mouth, then closed it as crossbows were carefully aimed. She stood in stony silence as manacles were fastened to her wrists and ankles.

“Right, Kahn, lift up young Edmund’s night shirt, that’ll do. No doubt as to which side of the line you stand upon, lad; it’ll be a shame to see you hang for it. Doctor, if you would, we’ve fetched their shawls, so just slice through the back of the night dresses.”

As Drewes repacked the scalpel into his bag, Sleiger faced Jolla. “No more bold talk, goodwife? Perhaps a few threats about the power your husband wields in this town? No? Enjoy your stroll through Hohenfels wearing irons, Jolla. When the sun’s up we’ll see about erecting gallows, and by nightfall you can join the rest of your tattooed brethren on the other side.”

The Mayor turned away, fatigue etched in his face. “Damn this for a
n awful business; who would have ever guessed? Halabarian, you and the Doctor remain here and search this place, see what you can uncover about the cult. We’ll take these three to the cells and then start rounding up the brewery workers; no doubt a number of them will belong to the Assembly.” The Mayor suddenly turned and brought the back of his hand across Jolla’s face, knocking her back against the wall. “
What
in blazes were you thinking, Jolla? Why did Lang’s children have to die? What
possible
gain could make that necessary?” The store-keeper shuddered and visibly took control of himself as the glaring woman climbed back onto her feet. “Right, enough talk. Get them moving.”

The Master Guide trudged through the predawn grayness with Hanns Ehrler, the First Knotsmaster in charge of the primary storage site, at his side, followed by the Knotsmaster’s two brothers, all heavily armed. “We need to move the supply of the special product at once to the old storage site near the blasted oak,” he instructed. “Delays are intolerable at this point.”

“That place will need some work, or the stuff will be damaged by the weather,” Hanns observed as the clearing near the old farm house came into view.

“Take care of it as soon as the items are transferred; I’ll see to it that you are reimbursed for any expenses. By the way, Theodore was slain last night so you’ll need to find another hand.”

The Knotsmaster staggered and gurgled, a crossbo
w bolt jutting from his chest while behind the Master Guide were the fleshy impact sounds of arrows hitting home and a sudden piecing scream. Amazed, the head cultist watched as Hergar the smith trotted past him with a war hammer at the ready; turning, he watched the Dwarf catch up with Hermann Ehrler, who was crawling down the path with an arrow jutting from his side, and kill him with a single sharp blow to the temple. Hector Ehrler was dead where he fell, an arrow having struck him under the arm, transfixing both lungs and the heart. Turning towards movement caught out of the corner of his eye, the Master Guide saw the Lanthrell Badger stand up from a bush which shouldn’t have been able to hide a chipmunk, an arrow nocked, drawn, and aimed squarely at his chest.

“I believe we’ve met, at the Mayor’s di
nner party, if I’m not mistaken: you are Friedrich Forst, master brewer.”

“Yes, I am. Thank you for rescuing me from these bandits.”

A smile darted across the Threll’s face. “Not hardly.”

A shout from the attic was followed quickly by running steps. “I’ve found it,” Drewes called as he burst into the store room where Halabarian had been rummaging through chests. “This appears to be his records and other materials.”

The Doctor set down what at first appeared to be an ordinary traveler’s case, perhaps two feet long, one-and-a half wide and tall. Opening it, he turned it to face the Threll, who saw that fastened to the lid was a neat rack holding several daggers, dirks, and garrotes; the storage area was divided into two parts, one holding tomes covering the rituals and practices of the cult, and the other three ledgers and writing materials.

“These ledgers (I’ve glanced through them) seem to cover killings they’ve done, the revenues of the cult (from robbing the dead and trading with the Goblins) and a roster of the Assembly. The latter uses code names and runic symbols for entries, but perhaps someone who is familiar with the locals can deduce the persons from the code names.”

“Or maybe one of the captive cultists can be persuaded to translate,” the minstrel observed, standing and brushing off his trousers.

“You would think one or more would talk, but they're a stolid group, aren’t they? I’ve done a count; it appears that the Assembly is broken down into the Inner Assembly, which is made up of persons who live in town, and the Outer Assembly, which are those cultists who live outside of town. The Assembly seems to have forty-one members, twenty-three Inner, and eighteen Outer.”

“Good. Figure four Outer died in the attack on the cottage, and when
Slieger left us here one Inner was dead and nine were in the cells, which means we’ve got nearly half of them under control. Add in the fact that we know the identities of three more cultists who are still at large, and things are beginning to look a good deal better. Let’s go to the Watch House and wait for the Mayor there, I’m sure he could use some good news.”

Starr thoughtfully tapped the side of her boot with a twig; twisting around on her stump, she waved Kroh over. “Master Forst says he is willing to help us,” she informed the Waybrother.

“Help us into our graves, if we believe him,” the Dwarf grunted, eyeing the cultist, who sat on the ground in front of Starr, wrists bound in front of him. “Ought to just lop off his head and be done with it.”