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Archives: New Marmo Republic

Chapter 4: Camp of the Black Baron

    Xanin, the werewolf of the group, was doing his rounds of the camp. Their leader, Baron Thane, had gone to meet another man who seemed to have his own aspirations of restoring Marmo. Unfortunately, Xanin was not one of the few who was chosen to accompany their commander. Instead, he was on watch duty. The tall, lanky young man slunk around the camp, almost prowling like a wolf. He expected to find little, but he was always alert of potential trespassers.

    The rest of the remaining mercenaries were gathered around the center of camp, aside from a few other sentries. They were talking, telling jokes, and cooking a mid-day meal, but Xanin was never sociable enough to join the crowd. Aside from that, he could smell the uneasiness of his comrades around him. The knew of his affliction, and though they knew he had been well trained to control himself, they still feared that at any minute the young man would burst out in fur and claws and rip them apart. It was because of this that he often preferred to take lone assignments, or scouting duties.

    While circling the campsite, he caught a whiff of the smoke filtering through the trees. He paused, sniffing the air and examining the scent for what was burning. It was not a campfire, as it smelled of many things burning... perhaps a building? Some distance away from camp there were several farm houses on the outskirts of the forest. They hadn’t made their presence known to the farmers, but perhaps they should help. That was up to Thane though. As Xanin debated, the smoke wafted towards the camp, strong enough for the normal humans to notice.

    It was then that a small ruckus broke out in camp as the Black Baron returned. They had fought many times with him, and despite his stern demeanor, Magnus Thane had a way to bind men and women to him. He demanded loyalty and discipline, but his treatment of them was fair and just. He also was not afraid to get his hands dirty and he didn’t sacrifice his men needlessly, far from it. But above all, Magnus just had a presence that inspired confidence; tall, strong, and always calm in or out of battle.

    The giant man in black armor slowly rode into camp, riding on Nightraid, his beloved black warhorse. His escort followed slowly, unlike usual he was not talking to the men with him, indicating that their commander had much on his mind. To his side, a large bastard sword hung. It was ornamented and somehow seemed ‘off’. The arcane blade was probably Thane’s most prized possession and tied to his bloodline.

    The Black Baron pulled the reigns of Nightraid and the black knight looked at his men. His soldiers favoured black with some red or silver, while Magnus wore mostly black with a bit of gold. The flag of the Mercenary Company was a modified version of what had once been Khone’s flag and it could be seen in the center of the camp near the command tent. The smoke drew Thane’s attention though and he beckoned a captain to his side. “What is going on?” he asked.

    Hearing his commander’s return, Xanin hurried across the camp to meet him. Unlike the rest of Thane’s men, the werewolf dressed in more natural garb, which was suitable as he often served as a scout. He towered over most of the men in the camp and his rare red hair set him apart as well, but Xanin always tried his best to remain inconspicuous and walked with a slump, lowering himself a few inches. As Thane spoke to one of the mercenary captains, Xanin wove his way through the crowd and stepped up beside the captain. “Sir, it smells as if a building is on fire,” he informed Thane with his head bowed in deference. “Perhaps one of the farms nearby.”

    Thane’s attention moved to the werewolf. “Aah... Xanin,” he said. Sometimes it seemed as if Magnus knew every man under his command by name. It, in any case, helped to charm them and was a testimony to the Baron’s memory, though Xanin was hardly a ‘regular’ grunt. “Hmm... if i remember correctly there is a small farming community not too far from here,” he said. “Have some scouts take a look and put the guards on full alert. One can never be too safe anywhere... and certainly not around here,” the giant warlord said casually with his booming voice.

    With a nod of acknowledgement, the werewolf turned aside from his commander. Looking over the crowd gathered, he picked out a pair of scouts by pointing at them and motioning for them to follow. One, a half-dark elf man named Azriel, and the other, a surprisingly petite woman who came from the barbarian tribes named Taina. They followed his command and slipped out of the crowd to meet him as he headed toward the treeline. With his two fellows following, Xanin loped into the forest while Azriel and Taina jogged behind him.

    As they grew closer to the farmland, the three scouts’ picked their paths carefully, using trees and brush for cover, avoiding stepping on anything that would make much noise. They split up to cover more ground. At the edge of the trees, Xanin lowered himself to the ground and crawled forward to peer through the leaves of a bush. One of the three farm houses was burning, but it didn’t appear to be an accident. Xanin could hear shouting, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. Hopefully Azriel’s more sensitive hearing would be able to explain something. What he did see of the people was what appeared to be the farmers facing off against men in mismatched metal and leather armor. They didn’t appear to be Flaim soldiers, but perhaps mercenaries or bandits. After observing for awhile, Xanin drew back. Around the same time, Taina and Azriel decided they had learned enough and the three scouts retreated to camp.

    “What did you hear?” he asked Azriel as they returned.

    “A conflict over ‘protection’. The farmers were begging to spare the rest of their neighbors, promising that they would pay next month when their vegetable crop ripened and they could take it to market. It sounds as if the others, I assume they’re bandits, are extorting the farmers by insisting they pay for their protection from other raiders,” the half-elf explained.

    “We’re coming out of winter. The bandits are probably taking advantage of the fact that the farmers haven’t had a chance to make much profit yet,” Taina added.

    About thirty minutes after they left, Xanin and the scouts returned to Thane’s camp to report what they found.

* * *

    The Black Baron nodded as he heard the report. “Hmm... I see. Well, the men can use some ‘training’,” he said with a small smirk. “And order must be imposed. If Marmo is to rise again we will need stability and supplies. Why not start here?” he stated.

    He looked at Xanin and one of his captains. “Gather me a firm strike force, include a good portion of the newcomers... they need some battlefield testing, and sent out more scouts to keep an eye on them.” he said. He looked at another captain. “Keep security high, but have the camp broken up and prepared to march,” he said. “When we return we’ll all rejoin my main force.”

    Magnus then turned towards a third captain and handed him a sealed scroll. “Have a patrol head off with due haste to the main force. I have orders for them. It seems we shall be joining forces with our ally soon and we cannot afford to loose too much time,” he stated casually.

    The giant in black armor than took his helmet in his hands and smiled. “Battle...” he chuckled lightly. “War... conquest... unending?” He put on his helmet and turned around. “You have your orders captains. I want to be ready to ride out within half an hour!”

    Xanin and the captains went to work gathering their forces. The werewolf encouraged haste in this matter, as he feared the conflict would be over before a half-hour had passed. As soon as possible, the troops were armed and mounted. The werewolf waited impatiently for their commander to take the lead. He rode no horse, partially because the animals weren’t fond of him, and partially because with his lanky build, his long legs could carry him just as well as a horse could.

    Their commander left the command tent suddenly, helmet under arm. A man-at-arms brought Nightraid to his side and the trusted beast received a few pats on the head from his master. Putting on his helmet, Thane mounted the black horse and casually adjusting his cape, glanced back.

    “I take it all is ready? The scouts have been set off once more?” he asked. There seemed no tension in his voice. Thane rarely showed stress or the likes, it comforted the troops if their leader seemed in control and at ease, at all times.

    “Aye,” Xanin replied to Thane with a nod. He stayed a few steps away from Nightraid, knowing that his scent upset horses, though after the campaigns through which he had been at Thane’s side, the horse had likely grown accustomed to the werewolf. Xanin took no chances though. He was anxious to get moving though, there was no telling how bad the situation had grown with the bandits and farmers. Once Thane was mounted, Xanin turned and began to stride toward the main exit of the camp, where there would be an easy path for the horses out of the woods.

    Magnus began to move, spurring Nightraid on. The group of mounted warriors were clad in the black and silver favoured by Thane’s mercenary company. The ‘Black Knights’ began to accelerate in pace once out of camp, heading for the smoke that rose up in the distance. Thane’s gaze remained fixed on the smoke for a while, but returned to the road which led them straight through the forest. He accelerated again, speed would be the key as the longer they waited the more damage the bandits did, or they might be too late overall.

    Xanin loped along with the horses, holding the hilt of his saber as he ran. His long legs easily kept him in pace with the horses through the forest, and being on foot allowed him to be more mobile as well. As the small group of mercenaries rode out of the woods, they were in luck to see that the bandits had not left. Unfortunately, the first house they burned was little more than a charred frame within the flames, while a second house had been ignited.

    The Baron slowed down and the force halted for a moment at the edge of the treeline. “Scattered and too busy looting. And nobody on the lookout. Sloppy,” he said. “Wedge formation... Give them no time to regroup and mount a defense! Kill this scum and prove your mettle once more!” he said raising his sword high. He smiled behind his helmet, he found that he looked forward to this moment, to sink his steel into these vile cretins...

    With the order to attack, Xanin and his comrades descended on the small farming community. The werewolf soldier drew his sabers and ran bent forward, swords at the ready, held at his sides. The bandits were caught by surprise, and their leader—who was standing guard over the terrorized farmers and likely demanding retribution for unpaid protection fees—started barking orders to his men. Bandits emerged from the remaining house and the barn, weapons at the ready, and prepared to defend themselves. Their band was about an even match for Thane’s forces and decided to hold their ground.

    Xanin dashed in between the burning buildings and his sabers bit into the bandits who got in his way. His graceful dark elven based fighting style caught the bandits off guard, but three moved into engage him. His height made him an obvious target, but his lithe frame and agility made him a hard to hit target. The rest of the force engaged the bandits ready to defend their claim, but the bandits weren’t prepared for the better trained mercenaries and former soldiers.

    Thane was fond of quick, decisive strikes and the use of heavy cavalry. This was made clear as the heavily armored warriors—his ‘black knights’—crashed into the bandits. Lighter armed soldiers followed suit, adding to the initial punch of the vanguard’s charge.

    While Xanin danced brutally through the enemy ranks, the Black Baron had come to a halt. He fought with precision and brutality, preferring to strike focused, but powerful blows, and relying on his mass and tactical insight over speed and grace.

    He pulled a bloodied blade out of an enemy and blocked a blow with his shield before finishing the fool of with a cut to the neck. His attention than shifted to the Bandit leader. Magnus smirked at the sight and turning towards him, he urged his horse forth. “Face me!” he challenged. “If you dare!” He pointed the tip of his sword towards the bandit leader.

    The bandit leader sneered and spat at the ground. He’d lost some of his men to this assault, but his better fighters were managing to hold off the enemy. “Dammit, I don’t know who ye are, but this is our territory!” he growled as he ripped his broadsword from it’s sheath. His opponent was heavily armored, and larger than he was, but the bandit wasn’t so easily intimidated. He was an opportunist, and he could find a chink in that armor. “Git off yer horse and fight me like a man!”

    Magnus laughed at that. He stopped. In dire circumstances he would have simply gutted the man, but the tide had fully turned in his favor, and there was much to gain by slaying him in a more ‘fair’ combat; the men were always inspired by such things and it might be a little bit of a workout. He descended from Nightraid, and with his shield one one armo he advanced, holding his bastard sword as if it were a longsword. “Than advance... and fight like a man,” he said coolly.

    With the ease that his opponent handled his huge sword, the bandit noted his strength. He would have to counter with his better mobility. He didn’t know if he or his men could survive this encounter, but if he was going to go down, he’d do his damnedest to take this man down with him. “Bring it, mate,” he growled as he held his sword defensively and stalked towards Thane. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, as any true Marmo would. If he struck first, the knight could find an opening, so the bandit feinted moving forward, hoping to get Thane to defend.

    Magnus moved closer, but his stance was unusual. Thane fought in an unorthodox way, his philosophy tactically and in battle was the same; the mountain does not move until the time is ripe. He seemed to probe the bandit, his defences seemingly down. He fought usually defensively against worthy foes and then lashed out with his massive strength when flaws or weaknesses surfaced. Despite his size and the armor, he could lash out surprisingly fast and powerfully with his sword, which had caught of guard many an overconfident foe.

    The knight was baiting him. The bandit had enough experience to recognize this; if he charged in, any open points would be taken advantage of. Time to use the environment in my favor, he thought, then kicked up the dirt at his feet, throwing a cloud of dust and rocks up at Thane’s face, then charged in with that moment of distraction, sword swinging from the flank, aiming to catch the knight at the waist where there was no armor to protect.

    The dust was sent up, distracting Thane momentarily. The bandit leader, using this momentum, dashed forth to strike; his blade went straight for his foe’s waist but the blade met a reinforced gauntlet. There was a metallic noise as the blade slid over it, but it never reached Thane’s waist as the Black Baron pushed upwards with his gauntlet. Using this opportunity, Thane lashed out himself, stabbing forward with the bastard sword.

    The bandit spun out of the way of the thrust, but it sliced into his leather vest; better than his skin, at least. And now, he had a shot at his opponent’s back as Thane recovered from the thrust. The bandit swung at Thane’s lower back, aiming for the unarmored region. Hitting cape and leather, his blade suddenly found chainmail hidden underneath it. The blade’s power diminished, it still sent a jolt of pain through Thane’s body. The blow would leave a vicious bruise but the pain was strangely invigorating.

    The giant warrior chuckled evilly as he circled on the spot, sending the bastard sword straight for the bandit lord’s throat. Thane’s face was hidden by a helmet so his opponent couldn’t see the vicious grin that had appeared on his pale features.

    The bandit barely had time to dodge the thrust, and his attempt to avoid it caused him to stumble and fall to the ground. He didn’t expect he could move fast enough to escape the blade coming down, so instead, he went for one of his tricks. His arm shot out to grab Thane’s leg and there was a stab of pain in the knight’s calf from a small throwing knife that the bandit kept in the wrappings around his wrist. After that, the bandit tried to roll away, leaving the blade where he stuck it, but he didn’t expect that he could escape the coming blow fast enough.

    A sting of pain was felt in his leg, but he had already reacted before realizing what had hit him. His strike was fierce and powerful, slamming into the bandit leader. As he pulled back his bloodied blade, a strange numbness started spreading from his left lower leg. Glancing down, he reached out for the dagger and pulled it out. Holding it tightly in a gauntleted hand, he suddenly cast the object aside. He took in his surroundings as a he began to sweat lightly...

    With the bandit leader defeated, the remaining bandits tried to scatter, or surrendered. There was little room for escape, so few did. The rest gathered together, ready to defend themselves. The battle was over, for the most part, and Xanin went to check on his commander. Sheathing his dark elven blades, the werewolf stalked toward Thane in his usual manner, unaware of what his lord was experiencing under his armor. “What shall we do with the remaining bandits?” Xanin asked.

    “The useful ones can be forced into service. Those too vile and unbefitting of my standards may be terminated,” he said. He cursed suddenly, “Bastard’s dagger must have been poisoned,” he said.

    “We return to camp as soon as we’re ready,” Thane stated, taking the reigns of Nightraid and forcing himself onto the horse. His vision was blurry and he felt very tired... sleep was tempting.

    As Thane moved away, Xanin caught a change in the scent of the knight’s sweat. It seemed...ill. “My lord, are you well?” the werewolf asked.

    “No,” he said. “But do not say a word. We return to the camp,” he said as he ignored the effects. He was a massive, strong man and the effects were slow to affect him. “Take the dagger of the bandit leader. The physician may need it...”

    Xanin nodded with concern as Thane labored to keep himself under control. “What should we say to the farmers?” Xanin questioned again.

    Thane looked at him. “Tell them that the Black Baron, Magnus Thane, and his company will assist them when possible and that they are safe for now,” he said. His gaze took in the farmhouses. “Check the bodies of the bandits, just in case they have links to other groups and inform me if anything is found.”

    With a nod to Thane, Xanin loped back to the rest of the soldiers to deliver his orders. The farmers’ concerns were assuaged, though they were apprehensive of this new group. They feared that this ‘Band of the Black Baron’ was no more than another group of criminals that wanted to extort them, the mercenaries did their best to explain what they were, without revealing their true goals. Though reluctant, the farmers thanked them, and were grateful that they didn’t ask anything of them.

    As for the bandits, the men fell into line peacefully. None cared so much for their cause or pride that they were willing to shed more blood, but they were still not to be trusted. They were mostly Marmo natives, and most Marmo were only out for their own good. Many of those who remained after the war turned to banditry for fear of persecution from mainlanders. The bandits were begrudgingly disarmed and marched along after the mercenaries. They said little, and they mostly seemed to be looking for an easy escape. It seemed they were only a portion of a larger band, and their leader had only been a lieutenant.

    Once everything was handled, Xanin returned to Thane’s side. “The brigands are of a larger gang, but they won’t say much more,” Xanin replied as he approached. “Should we leave a few men behind to help the farmers clean up?”

    “Leave three squads. Tell them... to regroup with us at the agreed destination,” he said. “I’m heading off now Xanin, meet up with us in camp.” He then spurred Nightraid onward and headed off.

    Xanin accepted Thane’s orders and made the arrangements with the other men. The werewolf was in a rush, and being the only one aware of Thane’s condition, he was eager to check on the baron. Once the men were busy helping out the farmers, Xanin departed and headed back to camp.

* * *

    The black knight could see the banner of his men in the distance as he and his escort returned; a red scorpion on a black backing, the Crimson Scorpion’s banner. Magnus smiled proudly and entered the camp of the black clad soldiers, acting strong and confident, he greeted his underlings despite the trouble he experienced. After exchanging a jest with some of the men roasting some meat and sharing a bite with them as he did often, he returned to his tent.

    As he sat down inside his tent, he didn’t even take off his armor, only his helmet, as he closed his eyes and sunk into a state of wild violent nightmares.

    Thane sat in his chair, statuesque almost, but also paralyzed in a way. In his fever he had identified the symptoms. It was a dark elven poison his mother used, ironically it had not helped the Bandit Leader due to Thane’s size and force of will. Now it would come down to surviving the night through stubbornness, or an antidote which was not something his human followers would have. As he was locked in a trance, he saw the past; conflict and death... the past haunted him still.

    Khone’s flag... burning...

    His father’s body, face twisted in a defiant rictus...

    His mother’s sad smile the last time he had seen her before she disappeared... probably dead.

    His family... his destiny... and its undoing.

    And the laugh... so familiar. The evil taunting laugh. Where did he know it from? A memory long lost... if only he could recall...

* * *

    The impatient steps of Sazan went back and forth through camp while she waited for work. Sazan kept a fair distance from the others as she stopped her pacing and proceeded through the camp heading toward the edge of it. Sazan placed her right hand on the hilt of her blade and she pulled it out from its sheath and brought her left hand to the other side of the hilt as she began practicing her swings and strikes with the blade while she continued to wait. With each swing of her sword, she imagined the filth of Kanon’s army being sliced in half and their blood raining on the ground below. The thoughts of vengeance caused a smirk to appear on her face. She finished her swings and returned her sword to her sheath before pulling back the hood on her white robes, unveiling the rest of her face.

    She looked up to the sky wishing, she could be in Kanon, wishing she could thrust the steel of her blade into the flesh of those who wished to make her betray everything her parents died for, to make them scream in agony and beg for mercy, mercy that would never come. The thoughts put a smile on Sazan’s face as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and continued to wait.

    As the werewolf entered camp, he stalked around, looking for Thane. It seemed no one was unaware of their leader’s injury, because if it was common knowledge, the anxiety would be palatable. Obviously, Thane didn’t want to stir up the troops. The lanky red-head looked for someone to ask, and one person drew his attention. If anyone stood out more than him, it was Sazan, the girl in white. She was practicing her sword play in an open area, and Xanin cleared his throat to get her attention. “Sazan, have you seen Thane?” he asked.

    Sazan turned her head over to Xanin upon hearing his question. She replied bluntly, “He’s hard to miss.” She uncrossed her arms from her chest and moved them to behind her back, wondering why Xanin had to ask. She didn’t have much experience with his kind, but couldn’t he just catch his scent and find him on his own? “He’s in his tent.”

    “Thanks,” Xanin said with a nod to Sazan. “Do me a favor and fetch the surgeon, then tell him to come over to...” The werewolf paused and glanced back at the entrance of the camp. The sweet scent of an elf caught his attention, and as he looked back, a beautiful dark elven woman was sashaying her way into the camp. She was exceptionally beautiful, even for her kind, with long white hair, violet eyes, and milky chocolate skin. Her garb was modest, but fitted, in white and a violet shade to match her eyes. From her waist hung a rapier, but she didn’t seem like much of a fighter.

    “May I... help you?” Xanin said as she approached. Her beauty struck him, but he had no allusions of such a woman being interested in him. Though, that was his considerations toward most women.

    The dark elven woman smiled sweetly to Xanin before she spoke, likely a feigned interest in him, he believed. “I am looking for your leader, Magnus Thane?” she spoke, her voice melodic. “I have been sent by the dark elven elders,” she said.

    “I... ” Xanin started, but paused. Thane was not well, and likely not in any condition to receive guests. “I was about to go speak with him. I will see if he’s willing to see you now.” Xanin then turned to Sazan, and leaned down slightly to lower himself to her height. “Bring the surgeon to Thane’s tent,” he whispered, hoping it was low enough for the dark elf to not hear.

    The surgeon? What would he need a surgeon for? Was Thane injured from the last time he went out? She would have to wait for that answer as Xanin got distracted with the arrival of the dark elf. Sazan glanced over the dark elf as she spoke to Xanin. Sazan’s gaze went back over to him but quickly returned to the dark elf as she kept her eyes on the woman, her expression blank. She broke away from her stare upon hearing the rest of Xanin’s order in a whisper. So Thane was in need of a surgeon then? It was none of her concern really, she nodded over to Xanin before walking away, but not before she turned her head slightly to get one last look at the dark elf stranger.

    This wasn’t the work she had in mind when Xanin returned, she was hoping to see some action out here to make up for the slow day it had been, but it looked like she would have to wait even longer for the action of the day to begin. She cleared her throat to get the surgeon’s attention and he looked over to her. “You’re needed at Thane’s tent,” she stated, then waited for him to get what he needed before exiting the tent and leading him to Thane’s tent.

* * *

    Xanin headed further into camp, the attractive dark elven woman following along behind him gracefully. She carried herself nobly, like most dark elves, though her confidence wasn’t solely derived from her race’s typical arrogance. Upon arriving at the Black Baron’s tent, Xanin instructed her to wait there while he entered. Sazan would likely return soon with the surgeon.

    “Sir?” Xanin inquired as he hesitantly slipped into Thane’s tent. He found the knight sitting in a chair, unconscious, and not looking well at all.

    Sazan made her way to Thane’s tent with the surgeon right behind her. Upon coming to the entrance of Thane’s tent she stopped for a moment and glanced at the dark elf again as the surgeon was forced to stop in his tracks behind her. She stepped to the side signaling for the surgeon to go on ahead as she watched him enter Thane’s tent ahead of her. She followed him into the tent to discover Thane’s current state and her question was answered. He wasn’t well. He wasn’t well at all.

    “What happened?” the surgeon asked, his voice heavy with concern.

    “He was fighting with a bandit, who stabbed him in the leg with what seems to be a poisoned dagger,” Xanin explained and removed the recovered dagger from his belt pouch for the surgeon to look at. While he spoke with the surgeon, the dark elf woman slipped into the tent quietly.

    The situation was worse than Sazan originally thought it would be, poisoned by bandit. Sazan didn’t show too much concern on her face, confident the surgeon would be able to handle the situation and that her presence was no longer needed she turned to take her leave when she spotted the dark elf who slipped into the tent. She glared at the dark elf this time. “Get out!” she said coldly, the glare in her eyes being her warning that she should not be there.

    The dark elf kept her attitude aloof, unphased by Sazan’s threatening glare. “Perhaps I may be of service,” she spoke, her voice confident and smooth. “I am a skilled herbalist, after all.”

    Xanin turned back and fixed a glare at the disobedient dark elf, but perhaps she could help. He shared a glance with the surgeon, who wasn’t very familiar with poisons himself and had no objections. “Very well,” he said.

    Gracefully striding toward Xanin, the dark elf plucked the dagger from his long fingers and delicately held the small blade. Looking it over and sniffing it, she investigated the toxins. “It is a poison I am familiar with,” she replied. “A native dark elven toxin. I will need time to create the antidote, but it will not take longer than an hour. You will want to try to keep his fever down, for now, however.”

    Thane remained immobile, he looked like a massive statue. Eyes closed, pale skinned and raven haired, the Black Baron seemed almost petrified were it not for a single sweat drop that ran over his forehead. The fever burned brightly as his body attempted to resist... and his mind was lingering in a time long past.

    This was fortunate that the stranger just happened to be of assistance at Thane’s time of need. For some reason Sazan felt compelled to stay in the tent now, at least until she was dismissed by someone. Staying near the exit of the tent so she could block access from anyone else who didn’t need to be in here at this time, she watched the scene unfold, remaining silent.

    “Alright,” the surgeon said. “Work on the antidote, and I’ll take care of the Baron. Someone fetch us some cool, clean water,” he ordered to Sazan and Xanin. The surgeon prepared to get to work, laying out his equipment on the knight’s cot. He would have to clean the wound and stitch it up. Meanwhile, the dark elf set herself up on a table in Thane’s tent. In her pack, she carried a collection of herbs, along with a mortar and pestle. She took out all she needed and began to sort through her supplies to find the right herbs.

    Xanin took it upon himself to get the water and turned to Sazan. “Sazan, stay here and stand guard. Don’t let anyone else in, or let them know that he’s ill,” he said to the girl in white, then slipped out of the tent.

    Sazan nodded to acknowledge the order given to her as she watched Xanin leave. Allowing the other people in the camp to know of his illness would just make matters worse anyway. She positioned herself into the entrance way of the tent keeping her arms behind her back. Every now and again she moved her head slightly to the left to glance at the dark elf before looking back out to the area in front of her. Standing here and guarding was a boring task, she would much rather be digging her blade into someone’s flesh right about now, but one had to do what they had to do.

    Their commander seemed completely oblivious of what was happening, in fact he seemed paralyzed. He did not move, barely breathed. He just sat and sat there. There was some movement behind his closed eyelids though, and suddenly his fingers moved lightly in a clawing motion as most unpleasant memories came to him.

    Xanin returned shortly with a bucket of water held on his shoulder. The tall werewolf ducked into the tent, trying not to spill any of the water, and brought the bucket over to the surgeon. Quickly, the surgeon laid a wet cloth over Thane’s brow to try to bring down his temperature, then brought a ladle to his lips.

    “Stop!” the dark elf called. “The more water he drinks, the more the poison may spread before I can administer the antidote.”

    With an exasperated sigh, the surgeon heeded her warning and poured the water back into the bucket. While the dark elf continued her work, he went to work on Thane’s leg, removing his leg grieves and cutting opening his pants to attend to the wound.

    Xanin moved over to the dark elf and watched her work. She was grinding up some of her herbs, and the strong scents assailed his nose, overwhelming his sense of smell. It made him uneasy. “How can we be sure of your intentions?” he asked. “We don’t even known your name.”

    “Vanaia,” the dark elf replied, then turned to smile sweetly up at Xanin. “I suppose there is no way to assure you of my intentions, but I pose no threat to your lord; he only stands to help my people, so I understand.” Vanaia returned to grinding her herbs, then looked back up at him again. “What’s you’re name, handsome?” she asked with a coy smirk.

    A blush rose on Xanin’s cheeks. “Xanin Erran,” he replied simply. Perhaps this dark elf was no one to worry about...

    “Ah...and your pretty pale friend?” she asked, glancing back at Sazan.

    Sazan turned her head to check up on their progress shortly after Xanin’s return. Thane should be just fine after this and at least he was smart to question the dark elf intentions; a pretty face can be dangerous. When Sazan turned her head back to where it was, two words stuck out in her head after they sounded: ‘handsome’ and ‘pretty’. What game was this elf playing at now? She supposed she should speak up, but the temptation to keep silent and ignore this useless chatter was looking good but that soon passed. “My name is not important.”

    Vanaia smirked, though disappointed by the girl’s lack of forthcoming. “Very well then,” she said and refused to press further. Taking a pinch of leaves from her supplies, she sprinkled them into her concoction, then began crushing them in again. “And you sir, what might your name be?” she asked the surgeon.

    “Brent, miss,” the surgeon spoke, not bothering to lift his head from his work as he cleaned the wound.

    Xanin suddenly spoke up. “I would like to sample this antidote before you administer it,” he said after he handed over the water. “To make certain it is safe for him.”

    With an exasperated sigh, Vanaia replied, “Very well, but the effects might not be so enjoyable,” she replied. “The antidote itself causes severe drowsiness and vivid dreams—which may not be all that nice, depending on the state of your psyche.”

    “I will risk it,” he replied. It didn’t seem so bad anyway.

    “Fetch me some boiling water in a tea pot, and a cup. This must be seeped and consumed as a tea,” the dark elf ordered blindly as she worked.

    Xanin wanted to stay inside with this woman, so he looked to Sazan, wordlessly passing this duty to her.

    Sazan raised an eyebrow at Xanin, daring if she should think just why he couldn’t, or didn’t want to do the deed herself, but as far as she was concerned it was better than just standing in the tent’s entrance way doing nothing. She left the tent yawning quietly out of boredom.

    Sazan found the camp’s cook and received a teapot as she headed out to the campfire and filled up the teapot with the boiling water. That elf stranger was still on her mind, though she didn’t know why. She didn’t trust her, but there was just something about her that made the dark elf somewhat appealing, at least to the mind that has nothing else to focus on. She returned to the tent and walked over to Vanaia handing the teapot over to her.

    “Thank you,” Vanaia said to Sazan, then set the pot down on the table and dropped in a mesh metal ball on a chain, filled with the crushed herbs. With that done, she packed up her supplies meticulously. “Well, it will take some time to seep, but I suppose not as long as I thought it would,” she said. Once her herbs were packed away, she slipped it all into her bag again and relaxed. The surgeon finished his work as well. Thane’s wound was cleaned and stitched, but Brent wasn’t leaving yet. He still wanted to see just how well this dark elf’s concoction would work.

    Xanin stood, almost guarding, and a silence fell over the tent as they waited...

    Sazan watched Xanin for a moment before turning her back on the others, facing the entrance of the tent to continue her job of keeping other people out, but before she could take a step she suddenly broke the silence that fell over the tent. “Sazan,” she said, plainly answering the dark elf’s question from before.

    Vanaia glanced back at the girl and smiled. “It is good to meet you, Sazan” she said sweetly. Enough time seemed to have passed, so Vanaia moved to pour the cup for Thane. Forgetting about her agreement with Xanin, she began to carry the cup towards the knight, but Xanin stepped in her path.

    “Oh...right...” the dark elf murmured, then gave the werewolf the cup. “Go ahead, but the drowsiness will hit you shortly.”

    Xanin took the cup from the dark elf, breathed in the steam deeply, then tossed back the tea. He still didn’t fully trust the outcome, even with her warnings, but this was all he could do. It was a bitter drink, and the werewolf’s stronger senses carefully absorbed each flavor. There was nothing he could pick out as being poisonous, and reluctantly, he allowed her to pour another cup.

    Vanaia brought a fresh cup over to Thane, and with the help of the surgeon, she tipped his head back and let the tea trickle down his throat.

    Sazan looked over to see the dark elf’s smile and heard her reply. It been a long time since she heard those words said to her with such a sweet smile on someone’s face. She didn’t usually get as far as saying her name to a complete stranger, so what was so different about this woman? She knew it wasn’t because of her race, she seen dark elves before, the land of Marmo was no stranger to them.

    At least knowing my name will keep her from calling me a ‘pretty pale’ girl. Yes that was it, that was the reason. She resented such a comment and saying one name’s was the best way to avoid being called something else, unless she was one of those kinds of people who like to give annoying nicknames, even if the receiver of the nickname despised it and said so openly. When is something exciting going to happen? Standing at this damn tent entrance way is the most boring experience of my life, she thought as she continued to guard the tent.

    While Thane was force-fed the tonic, Xanin had nothing to do but sit and wait for his test dose to kick in. Once Vanaia and the surgeon had finished, the effects hit Xanin. The werewolf’s head began to swim and he staggered slightly as his balance failed him. The dark elf turned around to see him. “You’d better get off to bed.”

    “Yeah,” he said softly. “Give me a hand, would you?” Xanin asked the surgeon, who walked over to support Xanin before he fell. With the surgeon supporting him on his shoulders, Xanin turned to head out, but paused in front of Sazan. “Sazan, could you stay here and keep an eye on her?”

    Sazan nodded without saying a word. So now she had to babysit? Sazan felt like the fates was plotting against her since the moment this dark elf came onto the scene. She couldn’t stop glancing at her. Maybe she was just concerned what this woman’s intentions were, and she convinced herself in her own mind that was the only reason. She starred at the woman blankly, having nothing else to look at.

* * *

    The surgeon ushered Xanin out and helped the werewolf back to the medical tent where he would keep an eye on the young man. Xanin took quite a gamble, and they couldn’t be quite sure if it would pay off yet. Xanin fell asleep, curled in almost a fetal position, in a cot that was a good foot shorter than he was. As his mind began to descend into a deep slumber, he was granted dreams of people he’d known; Nizoka, Sieb, long lost family members, old soldiers, Ashram, and Beld...

* * *

    Vanaia moved away from Thane and took a seat at the table again. She couldn’t stand to just sit quietly, and she felt Sazan’s eyes on her. The dark elf glanced back at Sazan, casting a sultry violet gaze at her. “Must you stand so dutifully stiff?” she asked. “Come and speak to me, I promise I will not bite.”

    Sazan remained standing, she wasn’t one for ‘useless chatter’, as it sounded like that was what the dark elf wanted to engage in. “Why are you here?” she asked coldly. She wanted to speak to Thane, but about what? Maybe it wasn’t any of her business? Didn’t mean she couldn’t ask, the dark elf wanted her to speak.

    Vanaia smiled to Sazan. “I was sent by the dark elven elders,” she said. It wasn’t the whole truth, but close. “They are interested in observing Magnus Thane, so I was sent to represent my people.”

    There came a very faint chuckle followed by a cough. “You mean... spy on me?” Thane’s voice came suddenly, but it was more a murmur than his usual booming voice. His head felt as if it was numb and it was difficult to think. Sleep already beckoned him once more. His leg felt numb, as if something had taken away the pain.

    Sazan looked over to Thane before turning her glance to the dark elf, her facial expression never changed from its emotionless state. “Interested? Why?”

    Vanaia’s ears laid back as Thane woke briefly to accuse her of being a spy. In a way, she was, and made it obvious. There was really no other way to explain her presence without arousing suspicion. “Thane, and Thrash—the knight who has been camped in the elven village, and whom I understand your lord met with today—both have vested interests with my people. While we have committed to Thrash, we are curious to see if Thane deserves our full support as well,” Vanaia explained to Sazan, and possibly to Thane, if he was still conscious. Even if he was conscious at the moment, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist the sedative effects of the antidote. It would take a few hours for the poison and antidote to be cleared for his system and a good night’s sleep would bring him back to his normal self.

    “Thrash?” So that was where Thane went earlier in the day. She wouldn’t have to ask this if she was more aware of what went on around her, instead of being distracted with thoughts of a revenge which may not happen any time soon.

    “Yes, he came to the dark elves about a year ago with a group of Marmo soldiers he had gathered up in Lodoss,” Vanaia explained, apparently Sazan was out of the loop. “One of elder rangers, Myrela, had cared for him after he was injured in the war, and she had a soft spot for him I suppose.” Cupping her hand over her mouth conspiratorially, she spoke in a near whisper directed at Sazan and winked; “Personally, I think there was more.” Vanaia drew back and continued, “Thrash managed to get the elders’ support and we agreed to allow him to camp in our village and helped him gather more forces.”

    “Thrash and Thane have the same ideas then? To take back Marmo?” She became more interested in what the dark elf had to say, and she finally went up to the table and sat down across from her. She kept her arms off the table and on her lap. “Go on.”

    Vanaia shrugged. “I really can’t say much more, I’m not all that involved with the cause, I’m just an outsider, really,” she explained.

    “Waste of my time,” she said quietly enough so only the dark elf could hear. She meant it in more ways than one, she would rather be killing a bunch of low life bandits right now than baby sitting. She stood up and returned to her original standing point while having to keep both her eyes on the dark elf. She hoped both men wanted to free Marmo. She wished Beld could return from the dead, that Ashram would return, and while the latter had better chance of happening than the former, either one seemed like just a false hope. Never should have missed that boat, she thought, her eyes leaving Vanaia’s to stare at the ground.

    Thane seemingly slept, but pushing back his drowsiness for now, he tried to listen to the conversation as well as he could, information was power and it was best to be aware of some things. The dark elf’s words did not surprise him in the least, he had expected as much, they were a cautious people and he could appreciate that. He cursed his ill fortune as he had wished to march on today. Tomorrow, no matter his state of body, he would stand and ride. Showing weakness was something he could not afford. Slowly, the drowsiness began to gain ground on his awareness once more...

    With a frustrated sigh, Vanaia turned her attention away from Sazan, finding the girl’s comment rude. She didn’t bother to speak to the girl for the rest of the night, and instead, slipped into meditation to pass the time.

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