Treachery's wake

11

Lidda appeared in the dense trees ahead. She was moving in a crouch, a finger over her mouth, signaling the others to keep quiet. Her cloak blended perfectly with the tree trunks as she moved silently toward them. Malthooz reached for his club to steady his shaking hand. He watched the others react to the rogue's return, tightening their own grips on the weapons they held ready. Krusk drummed his fingers in sequence along the handle of his axe. The sound only added to Malthooz's anxiousness.

Sleep had been difficult for the half-orc the previous night as the companions camped on the open plain. He spent most of it tossing and turning as nightmares of the troll chasing him ran endlessly through his head. Every sound that echoed from the nearby forest startled him wide awake. When he wasn't peering anxiously into the darkness, he was shivering under his coarse, wool blanket.

The light of day found him still weary and sore. No one wanted to light a fire for fear of attracting unwanted attention, though the damp, frigid air left Malthooz wishing for one.

They followed the footprints deeper into the forest for most of the morning. By noon there was still no sign of their quarry beyond the tracks they left behind. Tall pines and firs, standing over the group like sentinels, blocked most of the light of midday and brought a dismal feeling over the journey. At least the cover kept them out of the icy wind, though Malthooz would have welcomed its sound over the eerie silence that hung over the place.

"Gnolls ahead. A pair of them," Lidda said in an urgent whisper, holding up two fingers to emphasize the point. "About a quarter mile. They look half drunk."

Krusk's tapping stopped suddenly.

"Dog faces," he said with a sneer, "should be easy."

He started moving.

"I'm not so sure," Vadania said, grabbing his arm. "We don't know how many there are, or how organized they are."

"She's right," Mialee said. "What about the big footprints? Let's not get carried away until we know what we're up against."

"I'd guess that the rest of the group is somewhere ahead," Lidda said. "They must have a camp. I don't think they'd post guards if they were going anywhere."

"That's a fair guess, but I don't want to stake my life on it," Vadania said. "I'd be much more comfortable if we did more snooping. I shouldn't have too much trouble getting by them."

They all turned as Krusk buried the head of his axe in a tree trunk.

"Make your plans," he growled, "but be quick with it."

Vadania scowled at the barbarian. "There's precious little living in these parts as it is," she said.

Malthooz missed Vadania's transformation the previous day and he watched with fascination as her body changed. He tried to keep his eyes on the woman as it happened, but the process was difficult to track. The details were easy enough, the fur emerging from her skin and her fingernails becoming claws. It was the gross metamorphosis of form that made the half-orc queasy. He was not sure that he could describe what he was seeing. Vadania's body collapsed on itself as her muscles shrank and contracted. Her skin folded over and condensed. Fur sprouted from the tips and insides of her pointed ears.

Within moments, the elf woman Malthooz knew was nowhere to be seen. A squirrel twittered on the ground where she had been. The animal leaped onto a nearby tree trunk, making a quick circuit. She appeared on a branch high above, chirping and chattering at her companions on the ground. With a swish of her bushy tail, the druid jumped to another branch and darted into the woods.

The half-orc was thankful for the delay that the druid's scouting mission brought, even though he realized it was only temporary. A fight seemed inevitable at this point, and Malthooz was not overly eager to see it happen. He suspected that Krusk felt differently, guessing from the way he paced around, muttering curses into the air. It had always been that way with Krusk for as long as Malthooz knew him. Krusk had never been one for subtlety. He was the one who rushed headlong into whatever lay ahead, whether he knew what it was or not. Most often he didn't. Malthooz was glad for the presence of the druid and the other women. He'd hesitate to say that they made Krusk into a more sensible or gentle creature, but they did have a certain balancing affect on his reckless urges.

Something about Krusk's attitude was strangely infectious, though. Malthooz had never developed much physical prowess, but Krusk was different. Ever since he'd arrived at the village of outcasts, seeking a safe place to lay low, he'd been the best at anything involving strength, and Malthooz admired the attention it brought him.

Maybe he'd spent too much time with the barbarian, Malthooz thought, watching as a combined glare from Lidda and Mialee made Krusk set his axe down and take a seat. Malthooz could not deny that he felt a small but growing part of himself that hoped for a fight. He would have thought that the encounter with the troll would have been sufficient to frighten him off. The nightmares were certainly terrifying enough. Strangely, it was having the opposite effect, and he wasn't sure why. As scared as he was, he felt like he had to face the fear head on. The only way he was going to do that was through battle.

Malthooz shook his head. Did he have any idea what he was saying to himself? He looked up and saw the druid approaching. He reached for the disk under his shirt to calm his fear and get a grip on his fluctuating emotions.

Vadania came striding through the trees, already reverted into her elf form. The druid's every movement echoed the gentle sway of the wind through the pines. Her natural adornments, the beads and shells in her hair and on her clothing, only added to Malthooz's sense that the woman was of the forest. She looked at home.

"The group is not far from here," Vadania reported, her voice low and her tone grim. "There's a clearing about a mile ahead. It contains many tents and a crude wooden building. Might be an abandoned bandit camp. Gnolls were crawling all over the place. I saw at least a dozen, and that's not including the guards Lidda saw. There's probably more in the woods." She dropped her eyes. "I don't think a frontal assault is the best choice."

Krusk was on his feet again. He grabbed his axe from a knot of roots and slammed it into the loop on his belt.

"Figures," he growled.

Lidda gave the barbarian a sympathetic look and said, "Sorry, Krusk."

Malthooz didn't know how much more idleness Krusk could take.

Lidda turned to the wizard and asked, "Mialee, can you work something on the guards?"

The wizard nodded and replied, "Why, do you have a plan?"

Malthooz saw Lidda's grin and knew that the rogue had something in mind. She gave the half-orc a wink.

"We should move back until after nightfall," she said. "My plan requires the right conditions."

Malthooz followed Krusk as the company retreated.

They moved out as darkness settled. Lidda and Mialee would make a move on the guards combining the wizard's magic with the halfling's skill, then all of them would head toward the camp. The rogue would infiltrate the place, locate the staff, and remove it from under the gnolls' noses.

Lidda had to rely on Mialee's sight until she was close enough to the gnolls to act on her own. The wizard was not slowed by the darkness so much as the halfling. Her eyes were able to see much farther than Lidda's under the indistinct light of the moon and stars. It was a gift of her elf blood and a trait that she and Vadania shared.

"Remember that the gnolls' night vision surpasses even your own," the druid said to Mialee as she dropped to her knees, signaling for the others to do the same.

Malthooz squatted next to Krusk. Dampness soaked through his breeches as he knelt in the bushes. It was getting cold again, and the wetness only added to his discomfort. He felt like he'd been soaked for days.

The darkness of the forest closed in around them as twilight faded into night. It was oddly reassuring to Malthooz the way the shadows smothered all the details of his surroundings, allowing him to convince himself that he was somewhere else. He wasn't sure, but he felt that he was better off not being able to see more clearly in the gloom, not knowing who or what was out there. Maybe it was Krusk's presence that calmed his nerves. He fingered the symbol of Pelor through his shirt while watching Vadania and Krusk kneeling nearby. He wondered if the disk would offer him any protection in the worst case or if it would do anything at all.

Malthooz saw Krusk look over at him. The barbarian sneered, but Malthooz didn't feel it was directed at him so much as at something more general.

"This is all I need," the barbarian said, showing Malthooz the butt of his axe. He spat. "Not that it's going to see any use tonight."

Krusk glared at Mialee and Lidda as they moved off.

"It'll be easier this way," the druid said.

"Easier for who?" Krusk growled.

Malthooz saw the beauty in the simplicity of the rogue's plan, particularly because it didn't involve a fight. Under the cover of darkness and silence, Lidda would save them all a lot of potential trouble. The idea sounded good to Malthooz, if a bit risky. The only other option was to go straight in and take the thing by force. That was Krusk's preference. Malthooz hoped that there were no more gnolls in the woods.

"I hope she doesn't run into whatever left the other set of footprints," Vadania said as Mialee and Lidda slipped from sight.

Krusk cracked his knuckles and said, "We'll know soon enough."

Malthooz had forgotten about the other prints.

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…"

Lidda crept silently across the soft earth, counting to herself under her breath. She circled slowly around the guards, keeping them just in sight as she moved from tree to tree. The gnolls were sharing drinks between themselves. The rogue didn't need to guess at its nature. One of the creatures wiped a long arm across its muzzle as it fell back against a tree and passed a ceramic urn to its partner.

They resembled nothing so much as bipedal wolves. They were roughly humanoid and stood about the same height as Krusk. Matted fur, dark gray with the white sheen of their winter coats, covered their bodies from head to foot. Patches of hair showed through the joints in their armor. Toughened plates of leather covered their shoulders, chests, and thighs. The pieces were held in place with a network of cords and buckles. Their snouts ended in black, canine noses. Sharp teeth lined their elongated jaws.

A pair of longbows rested on a stump nearby, next to bundles of arrows. Each of the creatures had a sword strapped to its side.

"…forty-nine, fifty."

Lidda finished her count and moved around the tree, praying that she and Mialee had their timing right. As if on cue, a shimmering wall of color materialized in the air in front of the drunken gnolls. One of them shook its head as it tried to figure out what it was seeing. It reached out to touch the shimmering pattern of light dancing before its eyes, whimpering as it pawed at nothingness.

Before it had time to react, Lidda's dagger found the addled guard's throat. A second later, it was on the ground choking on its own blood, the urn still clutched in its paw. The gnoll's companion was so enrapt in the spell, it didn't even see the first victim fall. Lidda drew her dagger across the throat of the second gnoll and it slumped to the earth.

Her weapon was wiped clean and in its sheath by the time Mialee reached her. Lidda checked through the bodies as Mialee stood watch. She rummaged through the creature's armor but turned up only a few silver coins. She dropped them into a pouch at her belt. Grabbing the jug that the gnolls had been drinking from, she took a sniff of the contents.

"Strong drink," the rogue said passing it to Mialee. "A few more pulls and I wouldn't have needed my knife."

The wizard tossed the mug aside. "No thanks," she said. "Let's get back to the others. We have more to do."

"The easy part's done," Lidda said minutes later as she and Mialee huddled down beside Vadania and the half-orcs. She upended her pouch of coins on the dirt in front Malthooz's feet. "Bonus pay," she said grinning. "Take 'em for luck."

Malthooz reached for the coins but pulled his hand back when he saw the dried blood covering them.

Krusk snorted. "I better see more than that," he said. "All of this work and I haven't even seen a proper fight."

"No offense," Mialee said, "but if we're getting paid either way, I'll take the easy gold."

Vadania got up, saying, "We should move. I'd like to get this job done and get out of the woods by morning. We'll have the whole camp on our tail when they figure out what we've done. The farther away we are when that happens, the better."

They moved along under the light of the moon that was riding full in the sky. The yellow glow of its half crescent made it easier to see the land around them and they were not so dependant of the elf women for sight. Lidda moved in the front of the group with Mialee and Vadania. They conferred in hushed tones, going over their plans a final time as they approached the outskirts of the camp.

Vadania kneeled in the bushes at the edge of the clearing that the gnolls' camp occupied. She pointed at a large tent standing at the center of the outpost.

"That's the one," she said. "If I had to wager, I'd say the staff's in there."

Lidda nodded. Fifty yards stretched between her and the rear of the tent. She studied the area, memorizing the details, making mental notes as she considered her task. A number of smaller tents were spaced around the clearing at odd intervals. Crude cloth, stitched together pieces of animal skins and patches of gaudily colored cloth, covered the structures. They were circular in shape, their coverings suspended on wooden frames that radiated out from tall central poles. Off to one side sat a sagging, wooden building. It looked like an old logging shack and gave the whole area a dilapidated feel. The rogue calculated the distance between buildings, noting where each of them was. She wanted to know where to expect trouble to come from and where enemy eyes might lurk.

A company of gnolls was seated around a fire blazing near the circle of tents. The creatures passed two jugs among themselves. Lidda smiled to herself-they would be even easier to get past than the sentries, she thought, judging by the length of their drinks and their loud, slurred speech that echoed through the surrounding woods.

Lidda wrinkled her nose. "The whole area reeks of wet dog," she said.

Krusk crept up to the druid's side.

"I count six," he said. "How many more did you see?"

Vadania replied, "I didn't want to get too close. I'd say there are at least that many in the camp proper, and that many again around here somewhere."

"Probably passed out," Malthooz said.

"And no sign of the other?" Lidda asked, an image of Krusk's boot inside the huge prints in her head. "This should be easy."

"Drunk or not, these are savage fighters, Lidda," Krusk corrected. "Remember the plan. In and out. Find the wizard's stick and be done with it."

Mialee grinned at the barbarian and said, "I thought you hated the plan."

"If it's got to go this way, I'd just as soon be done with it," he growled. "The sooner we're done with the thieves guild, the better."

"Funny that the gnolls weren't so big and fierce a few minutes ago when you were ready to waltz in by yourself," the rogue said, winking at the barbarian.

Krusk snorted.

"The rest of us will fan out," Mialee said. "Vadania and I can cover you with bows and slings if need be. Krusk and Malthooz can move in close in case things get hairy. Remember that there might be other guards."

"Check," the rogue said, raising the hood of her cloak.

She slipped off toward the camp, a shadow among shadows, and crept around behind the largest of the tents, keeping herself pressed low to the ground. She felt the warm burn of her thigh muscles tensing as she concentrated on her movement. It was good to be alone. She breathed in the night air. It wasn't that she didn't like her companions. She just needed some space to herself once in a while. Especially when she was facing a task like the present one, she liked to work solo.

She thought about what an association with the guild might mean for her. It would be as official a recognition of her skills as she could hope for. She would still be operating in gray areas as far as the law was concerned, but she'd be able to leave behind the petty theft and pickpocketing. Her work would gain official sanction, for lack of a better way to put it. At least among certain circles, that is. New contacts within the underground network in Newcoast alone would be worth the hardship. She wasn't sure that her companions would see it the same way. She knew how Krusk felt about it, anyway.

The large tent stood a few yards from where she was. The distance was not too great, and the remaining guards had their backs turned to her. Lidda covered the distance to the main tent in three quick steps. The mass of the pavilion separated her from the gnolls still drinking around the fire. Lidda pressed herself against the rough surface of the tent, feeling its uneven surface brush the side of her cheek. She put her ear to the canvas but heard nothing. Not a sound emerged from inside. She took a deep breath, letting the sweet, pine scent of the forest calm her. She glanced back to her companions and made her move.

Dropping to the ground alongside the tent, she lifted the edge of the cover and peered inside. The interior was almost black, and it took a few moments for the rogue's eyes to adjust to the darkness. A dim glow streamed through an opening in the ceiling. It must have functioned as a chimney of sorts, she thought. Red coals glowed in the fire pit in the center of the room, but the flames of the blaze had long since gone out. Slowly, she began to make out more of the details of the space.

From her vantage point, Lidda could discern the shape of a gnoll sleeping atop a crude cot. A table and chair sat on the far side of the room, remnants of the gnoll's last meal littering the surface. A chalice lay on its side next to the scraps of food, its contents nothing more than a dark puddle on the floor. A large wooden chest sat just to the side of the creature's bed. She studied the bands of reinforcing steel that ringed the trunk. Lidda would wager her share of the take that whatever was inside was what she was after.

She paused. Something about the room bothered her. Something about it didn't make sense. The gnolls didn't seem settled enough to be permanent residents at the camp, but the tent was too well equipped to be the home of a nomad. She was overanalyzing, she told herself. Lidda pushed her doubts aside. She was there for one reason and one reason alone.

She crawled into the tent and moved past the sleeping gnoll toward the chest. She would normally have slit the monster's throat. Something held her back, though. It would have been an easy kill. Was it the thought of being caught by the creature's companions outside that held her back, she wondered? She shook her head. That wasn't it. It was almost as though she felt Eva Flint scrutinizing her every move and had to prove to the guild master that she could pull off the heist without resorting to her dagger. Lidda stopped herself. She was letting her ego get the better of her work. She paused for a moment to regain her concentration before she crawled the final few feet.

The chest didn't look like anything special. The lock appeared simple enough. Lidda pulled a slender steel wire from inside her cloak and inserted it into the opening on the front of the trunk. She jiggled the tool carefully, feeling for the telltale sign of a trapping mechanism. The thin steel wire acted as an extension of her fingers. Years of training and practice allowed the halfling to interpret the subtle messages she felt through the instrument. She could feel the workings of the lock but felt no other triggers or catches. She removed the tool, satisfied that the mechanism was clean.

Lidda pulled a more substantial utensil from her cloak. The pick looked like a key but was larger, with multiple nodules and bumps running the length of its shaft. Lidda worked it back and forth slowly inside the lock, feeling a slight bounce as each of the mechanism's cams dropped into place. One after another, she worked them into the proper grooves. As the last one was finessed into place, the lock opened with a click. Lidda slid a clasp from the loop of steel holding the latch of the chest closed and raised the lid slightly.

Deep within sat a wooden box that was just under three feet long. Its surface was dark brown with thick lines of growth showing in the grain. It had been sanded smooth. The innate markings in the wood were accented with silver paint, turning its natural imagery into something entirely different. Demonic faces stared at Lidda from the top of the box, glowing in the pale light that filtered through the top of the tent. The images shimmered and changed as she watched them. The faces became dragons and the dragons became the faces of people she'd known. Tiny spiders, their legs as thin as thread, danced across the surface as ocean waves lapped along the edges of the box. Mountains rose and fell. Time seemed to stop, and to accelerate, all at once.

Lidda shook her head. What kind of trickery is this? she thought.

She looked around the room, unsure how long she'd been held in thrall by the phantasms in the trunk. The gnoll slept on its cot, snoring quietly, and the embers in the fire pit still glowed a dull orange-red. She had been staring for only a few minutes at most.

As her hand hit the top of the thing, the swirling patterns stopped. Curious, she thought, as she lifted the box gingerly from the bottom of the chest. It was not as heavy as she expected it to be. The wood alone should have weighed several pounds, yet the whole thing was as light as a single crossbow bolt. Everything about the item was wondrous. The rogue couldn't imagine the worth of the container, let alone what rested inside. She cleared the lid of the trunk and turned to go.

As she moved away, a single, clear chime sounded. It was not loud, but in the silence of the tent it was a clamor. Lidda jumped to her feet. She noticed a small piece of delicate string running from the bottom of the treasure to a silver bell suspended in a corner of the trunk.

"Damn," she cursed her own stupidity under her breath.

On guard for a much more ingenious or perhaps magical trap, she'd been betrayed by this simple and elegant mechanism. She heard the gnoll stirring behind her. Holding her prize under her arm, she darted for the entrance flap.

Krusk saw Lidda emerge from the flap of the tent in a sprint. She frantically scanned the camp. A howl went up from within the canvas shelter, where Lidda had just been. The barbarian knew that trouble was on the way.

He hefted his axe. The heady rush of a good fight would be welcome. He looked back at Mialee and Vadania. The women were startled by the sudden sound of the gnoll's yell. Malthooz stood up beside Krusk. His eyes were wide. He held the quarterstaff in his hand but tossed it aside and grabbed the club from his belt. The symbol of Pelor dangled exposed from the cord around his neck.

Krusk whistled to Lidda, and she started toward the bushes where the half-orcs were hiding.

He turned to Malthooz and whispered, "Now you'll get your first taste of battle. Keep close to the halfling, and remember what I taught you."

He heard Malthooz offering up a hushed prayer.

A gnoll near the fire toppled over with an arrow sticking from its chest. Another reeled back as a stone from Vadania's sling caught it in the side of the head. Krusk felt his blood rise. He wasn't going to let the elf women show him up. The frustration of the past few days boiled in his veins, and he was going to make someone pay.

Lidda reached the barbarian's side as the camp erupted.

"There was a trap," she cursed. "I was careless."

"That doesn't matter now," Krusk said, stepping toward the camp. "Keep an eye on Malthooz."

The barbarian let out a roar and charged into the clearing.