Arkk hunkered down, peering through the twilight-draped brush.
A small, lonely hill stood amid the dusty plains. Several buildings sat on top. Large wooden warehouse-style homes, built in a ring around a central plaza. Though he only knew that from scrying. His position at the moment didn’t let him see much more than the spiked tops of wooden fences encircling the top of the hill. All down the hill’s sides, narrow wooden rods jutted out of the mound. Their tips had been shaved to points as well. They were placed haphazardly and irregularly, hindering any attempts to navigate up the sides of the hill.
If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought it was nothing more than a particularly protective village.
“That right there is a little place we call Porcupine Hill.”
“Creatively named,” Arkk said.
“Bandits and highwaymen aren’t known for their poets and scholars,” Edvin said with a shrug. “Especially not these bandits. They’re the true power out here in the western Duchy. Even the Duke’s men steer clear of here.”
“And they’re associated with the slavers?”
“Not unless something has changed lately. Their leader can’t stand slavers. Used to be one, I gather.”
“A slaver?”
“A slave.”
“Ah.” Arkk’s eyes scanned over the unwelcoming hill for a long minute before he turned to Edvin. “They know where the slavers are?”
“I sure hope so! I’d rather not find out what you plan to do with me if I’ve inadvertently lied.”
As long as Edvin made an earnest effort, Arkk doubted he would have cause to do anything drastic. Not that he told Edvin that. In the three days since Arkk and the orcs had raided Edvin’s group, the man had done little to endear himself to Arkk. Not for a lack of trying either. In fact, that was part of the problem.
Edvin tried a little too much. Nearly every word the man said was some poorly disguised attempt at ingratiating himself with either Arkk or one of Arkk’s employees. His words didn’t elicit much of a reaction. Except for the few words he had for Ilya, which had earned him that black and blue bruise around his eye. It would have been pitiful if Arkk hadn’t thought he was doing it on purpose.
What was more, it was like the man couldn’t tell the truth if his life depended on it. Which, unless he had seen through Arkk’s less-than-lethal threats, it did. Even if he had seen through those threats, Arkk was still more than willing to hand him over to the local garrison.
All that made Arkk less than thrilled about this whole operation. He had half a mind to sit around and hope that the slavers hit Appletop Village. The only reason he wasn’t doing that was that doing so would likely end up with a large number of dead flopkins before he could intervene. Sometimes, being proactive about a problem was necessary even when that proactivity put him in an unpleasant situation.
“So, we’re just going to walk in through the front door?”
“The hill was designed to make other paths unpalatable.”
“Alright,” Arkk said, standing. He looked back to Dakka and Ilya, both of whom were giving Arkk the flattest looks they could. “Stick together—”
“Woah, hold on. Best to leave the others behind,” Edvin said, further increasing Arkk’s distrust in the man. “They see an army marching up the hill and they’re going to start raining arrows on us before we get close enough to explain what we want. Unless you want a war…”
“Bet the garrisons would pay us for taking this place out too,” Dakka said with a casual shrug.
“Yes,” Edvin said, “but what of the slavers? You might accidentally kill the one who knows about them.”
“This is obviously a trap,” Ilya said, hand resting on her dagger.
“You question my honor, elf?”
“Yes.”
“Oh… Well… Mother always said not to bite the hand that feeds you. Right now, that’s you guys. You can trust that at least.”
Arkk sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “He is probably not wrong, unfortunately. If we head up there as a large group, they’re going to attack before we can get into striking or talking distance.”
“You can’t be serious,” Ilya said.
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Ilya just pressed her lips together.
“Dakka,” Arkk said, “you stay here. Stay ready though.” Pulling the crystal ball from his satchel, Arkk tossed it over to Vezta. “If anything happens, I’m sure you can guess what to do.”
Vezta caught the glass ball with a single hand. She looked down at the ball before her golden eyes flicked over to Arkk. “You would not prefer my presence at your side?”
“No offense,” Edvin said before Arkk could speak, “but you’d probably start a war on your own.”
Aside from one of the eyes on Vezta’s shoulder shifting, she gave no indication that she had even heard Edvin speak. Her attention was entirely on Arkk.
“It was definitely a consideration. Unfortunately, you’re the only one who knows how to make the circles.”
“We should have brought Zullie along.”
At the mention of his researcher, Arkk took a quick glimpse into Fortress Al-Mir. Savren and Zullie were both back there for the time being, standing inside the temple-ritual room, seemingly arguing about something. The former kept gesturing toward one of the cardinal spots while Zullie had her arms crossed over her chest, looking unimpressed. It likely related to the changes Zullie suggested needed to be made.
Hoping that wasn’t going to become a major problem before he returned, Arkk shook his head. “Too late now. Don’t worry. I can hold my own long enough.” Turning, Arkk started, “Ilya—”
“You aren’t going in there alone.”
“Of course he isn’t,” Edvin said, straightening his back.
“No, you’re coming with me,” Arkk said. “I need someone watching Edvin.”
The highwayman deflated somewhat but Arkk’s response mollified Ilya. She gave a curt nod of her head before fixing her silver eyes on Edvin. “One wrong move…” she said, fingers curling tighter around her dagger.
Edvin just held up his hands, backing away slowly. “Clingy, isn’t she?” he mumbled.
Arkk wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or if he meant for Arkk to hear. Either way, Arkk didn’t bother responding. He looked over the group and, after a moment’s thought, nodded his head. “Zharja, you come as well.”
One of the four gorgon present slithered forward, nodding her head as she moved. In the closing darkness, her dark scales made her almost invisible.
While this whole trip had been instigated for the benefit of the inquisitors, Arkk was accomplishing several minor tasks with it. And, with the defeat of the slavers, a major task as well. Of the smaller issues, Arkk was most pleased with the gorgon. They weren’t exactly integrating with the orcs but Arkk wasn’t expecting them to. He just wanted to make sure that they got used to being near one another, to avoid any incidents and, hopefully, to help alleviate some of Rekk’ar’s concerns.
Rekk’ar wasn’t present but if some of the orcs here spoke about their experiences, that would help.
So far, the gorgon being around had been quite a success. They helped out with raiding Edvin’s hideout and Arkk had heard no complaints from any party.
Except for Edvin, of course, who was currently eying Zharja with undisguised wariness. “Are you sure that is a good idea? I’ve heard things about gorgon and their eyes.”
“Then you sshouldn’t sstare sso much,” Zharja said with an intimidating hiss. “Or my eyess might be the lasst thing you ssee.”
“Alright, alright,” Arkk said. “Save your energy for a fight, if there is one.”
“There might be once they see that,” Edvin said, shuddering as he turned his gaze away. “Hope I’m enough to calm them down.”
“They know you?”
“Everyone out here pays tribute to Porcupine Hill. They know me. We go way back. I was here just last—”
“Save the stories,” Arkk said. “We’re going.”
Arkk wasn’t as worried as he thought he should be. A few months ago and he would never have imagined himself willingly walking into a bandit encampment. A few months ago and he had hardly left his village. Now, he had Ilya at one side, a gorgon at his other, and he had some kind of ancient, pre-Calamity monster ready to teleport in with a horde of orcs if things looked like they were going south.
What a strange turn his life had taken. How long had it been since he found the fortress? He stumbled across it about a month before harvest. So shy of four months since then? Practically overnight he had gone from a nobody peasant to a wealthy commander of a fairly competent mercenary force.
Idly, Arkk rubbed at the back of his neck, wondering if Hawkwood would recognize him as the peasant he was or if he had changed enough from then to appear as a peer.
“Now, I know you mercenary types like to beat your heads into brick walls until the walls give way but this situation is going to take a delicate touch. I’m not claiming that we’re all bloodthirsty barbarians but we are familiar with violence. If you don’t want to die, follow my lead. Let me do most of the talking, hey?”
Arkk shared a look with Ilya.
They were being led into a trap. The minion bond formed by Fortress Al-Mir might keep his employees from stabbing him in the back but it didn’t overwrite their free will. Edvin could plot and plan against Arkk all he wanted. He just wouldn’t be able to take the final action without putting forth a bit of effort into breaking that bond.
According to Vezta. It wasn’t something Arkk had experienced. Yet.
Getting other people to do the work for him? Letting this group of bandits surround them and take action on their own?
That seemed entirely possible.
“Sure,” Arkk said, still not that worried. Between his lightning bolts, Ilya’s bow, and Zharja’s abilities as a gorgon, he was confident in holding off an ambush long enough for Vezta to arrive.
Taking a glimpse of Vezta, he found her drawing out several ritual circles in the ground. They were incomplete—she didn’t know exactly where the destination would be—but they were all but ready to send the whole army of orcs in at once.
“That’s close enough!”
Arkk stopped, as did the rest of his group, at the voice from the wall. He couldn’t quite make out the figure poking his head over the top of the spiked palisade in the darkness but he could see their silhouette in the light from the full moon. Were it not for the moon, he doubted he would have been able to see anyone at all.
Movement drew his eyes along the wall. More silhouettes stood atop. These were archers, readying bows and arrows.
That did give Arkk some pause. He took a step closer to Zharja and pulled Ilya with him. He had long since memorized Zullie’s spell for stopping projectiles and had spent some time practicing it, making sure he could speak both quickly and without his tongue tying into a knot. He still wasn’t sure that he would be able to get the entire incantation out before an arrow crossed the short distance between them but having it on the tip of his tongue was better than nothing.
“Well, Edvin? You wanted us to leave the talking to you.”
“Uh… right.” The man cleared his throat. “Oh great wall captain of Porcupine Hill, I have come—”
“Oh Light,” someone atop the wall groaned, loud enough to be distinctly audible to everyone. “It’s Edvin.”
Arkk raised an eyebrow. “That’s actually your name?”
Edvin glanced back just long enough to shoot Arkk a withering look before returning his attention to the wall. “Yes, it is I! I have returned with a solution to—”
“You were told what would happen if you came back,” someone else shouted down.
“Oh come now, I apologized for the tomb business.”
“He led my brother to his death in the marshes!”
“That was an accident no one could have predicted and I resent—”
“Throw him to the wurms!” one shouted, receiving a few echoing cheers from others on the wall.
Edvin flinched, taking a step back. He shifted like he was going to look at Arkk again but held himself before he moved, straightening his shoulders.
“Thought these were your friends,” Ilya hissed.
Arkk nodded his agreement. His suspicions of this being a trap were slowly yet steadily diminishing. That didn’t necessarily mean that these bandits wouldn’t attack them. It just meant that they would attack him and Edvin.
“Did I say friends?” He shook his head. “We just need to talk to their leader, they won’t do anything without…”
Torchlight on the wall made Edvin trail off. Two new faces appeared over the top of the palisade wall. One, an older man carrying the torch. The other was a younger woman with darker skin and black tattoos on her face and bare arms, giving her the appearance of a striped animal. She glared down with the torchlight flickering in her eyes, arms crossed over her chest.
“Edvin…”
“Katja! It’s so good—”
“Throw him to the wurms.”
“Kat! No, Kat! We’re here to help!”
“Help?” The woman tilted her head upward, sneering down at Edvin. “Every word you speak brings death and disaster.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“You have violated your exile. There is one punishment.”
“I’m not here with schemes or tall tales or maps pointing toward buried treasure,” Edvin said, speaking as fast as he could. “I’m here with solutions. I know those newcomers haven’t been playing by your rules and my fine companions here want their heads on a pike!”
For the first time since approaching the wall, Arkk felt attention shift toward him. Deciding that Edvin was more of a liability at this point than an asset, Arkk stepped forward.
“I’m Arkk, leader of Company Al-Mir. We have a personal interest in annihilating this group of slavers. Edvin claimed you would be able to point us in their direction.”
Katja’s eyes shifted in the torchlight, looking back to Edvin. “You bring mercenaries to our doorstep?”
“I told you to leave the talking to me,” Edvin hissed.
“That wasn’t getting us anywhere,” Arkk whispered back.
Hanging his head, Edvin sighed before looking back up to the wall. “Didn’t have much choice. They kind of utterly destroyed Marv’s group.”
“Marv is gone?”
“Delivered his head to Moonshine Burg’s garrison just yesterday.”
“Other survivors?”
“You’re looking at him!”
Katja’s face lit up. It was hard to tell in the poor light of the torch but Arkk thought she looked pleased. That lasted but a moment before she scowled down at Edvin once more. “You should have died with your brothers.”
“Brothers is a bit more familial than—”
“Shut up,” Katja hissed before turning back to Arkk. “You, mercenary, have made a poor decision—several, likely, if you have been following Edvin’s advice.”
“So it seems,” Arkk said, “though that doesn’t change our reason for being here. Tell us where the slavers are.”
The woman stared for a long moment before dropping her arms to her sides. Arkk tensed. If the call to attack went out, it would come from her. However, she didn’t give a signal to the others on the wall. Clasping her hands together behind her back, she started pacing along the wall, speaking as she moved.
“Demanding for your position. Do you not see who holds the power here? Even with a gorgon at your side, you cannot survive all of us.”
Arkk shrugged. Vezta had finalized the teleportation circles. Each orc had its own, meaning they would all teleport in at the same time. No delay as they passed through one by one. If Arkk were to guess, he would assume that Vezta aimed the teleportation circles directly behind each of the bandits.
He had half a mind to signal Vezta right now. A simple hand movement behind his back would have her here in an instant. The only thing staying his hand was how little he wanted to advertise Al-Mir’s ability to utilize those circles. Both Zullie and Vezta said that such teleportation could be warded against. The Duke’s manor had magical protections that would likely work against him and the inquisitors had already taken to blocking his scrying. He didn’t want more magical defenses springing up.
This was another of the main reasons why only Edvin had survived their raid on the raiders. Anyone who saw the teleportation circles used in such offensive mannerisms would have to die or join him.
He wasn’t necessarily opposed to wiping out another contingent of bandits here but it was a much larger place with the possibility of secret escape routes and alternative means of getting away. Unless he was sure, he would rather not start something.
So he just smiled, nodded his head, and let the striped bandit leader continue, giving her a moment of power, even if it was illusory.
“On the other hand, it is true. These newcomers have become a thorn in my side. We were preparing our own… response to the situation. A little tit-for-tat. Though with Marv gone…” She trailed off, turning from her pacing to face Arkk once again. “Yes. If you’re willing to soften them up for us, who I am I refuse that?”
“Then you’ll point us in the right direction?”
“Horrik!” Katja barked, turning her head to the older man at her side. “Fetch Lexa. She can lead them.”
“Aye.”
Nodding, Katja turned to Arkk, glanced at Edvin, and then back to Arkk. “A little free advice: Drop him down the deepest hole you can find at the first available opportunity. You can thank me later.”
“Noted,” Arkk said, smiling.
They had a guide of some sort. One who could lead them to the slavers. He could see the anticipation on Ilya’s face without even turning his head.
Soon.