Born a Monster

547 Vigorous Sentries

I’d like to claim that I had no problems sneaking into the camp and seeing Hortiluk, potentially in his bedchamber. And, to a point, I had no problems sneaking into camp. Once inside the camp, one more armored hobgoblin, short as I was, drew no attention.

The Sentry class has a number of abilities, specially designed to detect threats. Hortiluk’s guards were numerous, vigorous in pursuit of their duties, and had no reluctance to use violence. I presume they were loyal, though I never thought to test it. <1 >

There was genuine curiosity from Malgaunt, the guard with the yellow eyes. “How did he know you were coming tonight?” he wondered aloud.

I shrugged, which wasn’t too comfortable with my wrists in a wooden block at the small of my back.

“Here’s a better question.” Alexis asked. “You went out with Doran and his crew. Were they in good health when you deserted them?”

I shook my head. “There was a horror. Tainted.”

She struck me. I tried to take it in a way to loosen a tooth they’d cracked earlier. The pain of THAT ran along the jaw line to the mandible joint.

Okay, lesson learned. Actual dentistry hurt less.

Her voice quivered slightly when she asked, “Doran?”

.....

“Died.” I said. “Heroically, if you want to hear the tale.”

There was a poleaxe, suddenly under my chin, its serrated blade close to my neck. I mean that literally; she pulled it from inventory directly to that position. Masterful.

I’ve always found polearms, spears, and lances to be difficult to store. Because of their shape, it’s difficult to …

But enough of me. The poleaxe, as the serrated blade might suggest, was clearly a custom weapon. The spike was long, but not so long as to make it a halberd. The serrations and hook at the end of the axe blade suggested Alexis favored thrusting the blade past a person, and then yanking it back toward her. The hammer balance on the back of the blade had those wavy raised parts that give armorers so much extra work.

“Sergeant,” Malgaunt said, “it is my duty to tell you the boss wants this one alive.”

She wept, not that any of that emotion reached her blade. Not the one tear, the sort of waterworks where you want a handtowel and something else to wipe your nose with, though she hadn’t reached that point yet.

“Watch him.” she responded, “He’s up to something.” And then she was gone, leaving me with only three guards.

“Truthspeaker, are you up to something?” he asked.

“Not any more.” I said, bringing my hand to my mouth in an attempt to tear loose the wounded tooth.

Remember how I said the guards were vigorous in the pursuit of their duties? If I’d had just a half second more, I could have had a firm grasp on that tooth, so they’d have torn it from my head for me.

No such luck, because I was living my life, not that of an actual hero. This time, they tried a set of manacles made from Marcus’ steel.

Now, I don’t need to tell you how rare that is, nor how readily it resists all forms of magic. So when I tell you the cuffs shrank to fit uncomfortably pinching my skin, please understand how impressed I was.

Top marks all around for Hortiluk’s guards. If Rakkal’s guards had this level of skill, and half the equipment, then he truly did not need me.

What would I do, then? Would I be free to wander the world, discovering new things as I roamed?

Malgaunt struck me across the nose with a plate gauntlet. “You will not cause problems like that again, do you understand?”

The tent flap waved open, waved closed. It was almost elegant.

The waft of perfume, the clearer wave of [Disdain], the otherwise conspicuous hole in my senses that should have told me there was a person (or something person-like) there. I hadn’t honestly been expecting him to take a personal hand that early in the process.

“Hortiluk.” I said.

He pretended not to notice me. “This one exists to cause problems.” he said. “That, and to blunder every. Job. Assigned to him.”

To me, he said, “I gave you the best Arcanist on this quarter of the world, and a team that should have become legendary. How did you kill the servant of Apollo?”

“Innocent of that.” I said. “There was a horror...”

He held up a hand. “I didn’t ask that. How long will it take the remaining members of my team to repair the fencing?”

Malgaunt coughed. “There are no survivors, sir?”

Hortiluk squinted. “What EXACT words did it use?”

“I am the only survivor.” I said, “and I will bear injuries from that battle for a few weeks, yet.”

“Unless you are fed well, you mean.”

“No.” I said. “Weeks instead of seasons. Even for me, there were some serious injuries.”

I wiggled my nose. Have you ever noticed that an itchy nostril seems worse when it’s rude to pick at it? No? Just me, then.

“And yet you dare come here like a murderer in the night? Were you even going to let me explain my plan, how I am still loyal to the Empire?”

“I was.” I admitted.

He sighed, and looked … tired for a moment. “Corporals, if one of you would release him from those cuffs?”

The guard behind and to my left asked me, “Are you a danger to the general if we let your hands free?”

I smiled. “I’m a danger to him right now, just because he’s near me.”

Damn it! Not NOW, stupid oath!

The guards chuckled, as though sharing a joke that I wasn’t privy to.

Hortiluk grabbed a chair from near the wall of the tent, set it down in front of me, and himself in the chair. “Do you mean those feeble powers you gain from Telepath? Perhaps the Spirit-Knife you’ve spent so much of yourself on?”

I shrugged. “Among other abilities, yes.”

Hortiluk snorted. “For all of your level one abilities, I think I have adequate defenses. Tell me, are you close to level two? In anything?”

“Shaman is pretty close to that theshold.” I said, careful not to share which side of that threshold it was. So long as he thought I was stuck at novitiate levels of power, I had a surprising amount of power.

You’ve heard me talk about level three abilities? It is true that the largest leaps of power are at levels three, five, and ten, but the difference between level one and level two isn’t shabby.

Hortiluk shook his head. “Shaman. The class that draws designs in the dirt, and uses cornmeal to bribe spirits to do your work for you. Lacking the healing of the more common Priest class, and having weak buffing abilities, at best. Most of your spells are actually meant for communication, are they not?”

I blinked. “You, of all people, know the power of communication. Say what you mean to say.”

The guard behind and to the right of me struck me in the head with a sap. “Show respect, you.”

“No.” Hortiluk said to him. “This thing isn’t a threat to me. Have you progressed far enough along Truthspeaker to hear when one is lying to you?”

“Not yet.” I said.

“A pity. Then just trust me on this. In spite of appearances, I am as loyal to the Empire as I ever have been. This,” he waved an arm to encompass the camp neither of us could see, “is an elaborate ruse. I mean to betray them at the moment when it will hurt them the most.”

I sighed. “They mean to betray you, as well.”

“Yes.” he said, as a smile crossed his face. “It is good to be among people of my own culture again.”

He leaned forward. “But your return offers me... an opportunity. Shall I tell you what I have in mind?”

I flexed my leg, rubbed my bleeding nose with a boot. “Please and thank you.” I said.

“How?” Malgaunt asked. And to his guards. “We are reviewing knots for a week after this.”

Hotiluk’s voice was both soothing and dismissive. “It’s just showing off.” he said, “Trying to show power even in a position of weakness.”

No. Really. My nostrils itched. I think I may have been slightly allergic to the flowers used to make his perfume.

“In any case.” Hortiluk said. “If I were to tell you perhaps two carts of critical supplies, and why those two carts were more important than the other seven, could you destroy those supplies?”

Seriously? Did he think I trusted him after his adepts were about to betray me in Hattan?

“I can do better.” I said. “Give me an hour, and time to organize my inventory, and I can just walk off with two carts worth of stuff.”

He didn’t bolt upright, but made it smooth, graceful. “I admit it isn’t often that I am surprised, let alone pleasantly so. I believe, then, that this can be made... quite painful for the invading army.”

He leaned forward again. “Tell me what you know about logistics.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could take days.”

“Then focus on the current situation; what would you target first?”

“Nails.” I said. “Nails and other metal goods.”

“Just so.” His smile seemed ... genuine ... that time.

<1 > Hortiluk’s Mesmer class abilities never seemed to work on me. His social skills... I’ll let you be your own judge.

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