Metamor Keep -- A Long Patrol
By Christian O'kane

Part 1

Misha opened the window and stared out into the night sky. Below him guards paced out their rounds on the outer wall and two people stood talking in the middle of the courtyard far below.

Nothing else stirred at this hour of the morning; Metamor Keep was still asleep. The one thing he hated about being a scout was the odd hours. It always seemed to be dark when he was coming or going.

He looked over to Caroline. The otter was curled up sound asleep in his bed, so completely covered by blankets that only the tip of her tail showed. He hadn't expected for them to spend the night together, it just seemed to happen. After loading their packs the two of them had gone to The Mule to relax and take their minds off the next days journey. The next thing he knew they were back in his room nuzzling each other. "How long have I been in business with her father Will? Five, no seven years, since before the change. We do make quite a bit of money together building clocks and such. What a strange pair of business partners we make; a jeweler and a scout. I've seen and talked to Caroline a thousand times, in those seven years but never considered her more than a friend and a fellow scout. Not until I asked her to join the Long Scouts did we become involved. The testing and the training meant spending a lot of time together, especially the patrols. The two of us were alone together for two to three weeks at a stretch when we were out in the field. I've talked to her more in the last month than in the previous five years combined. After being alone for all these years it feels good to have someone to snuggle with, and to love. But where do we go from here? How do I handle this? I'm not good at relationships. Don't push it Misha, go easy, and just take it as it comes."

Misha sighed; this was going to be a dangerous trip. Was she ready for it? He'd gone that far north by himself countless times but she hadn't. This would be her first trip. She had handled herself well during all the short patrols they had been on together. Caroline really was an expert scout. Her woodcraft skills were excellent and it hadn't been luck that won her the accuracy contest in the Easter festival archery tournament. One doesn't stay in the Duke's service as a scout for ten years without learning something. Was she good enough to be a Long Scout? That was what this trip would decide. God, please don't let me get her killed. He had the idea to let her sleep and go alone. "No, she's a grown woman and I can't start patronizing her now."

"Enough deep thought Misha, it's time to go to work." He closed the window and walked over to the bed. Misha carefully tapped a lump in the blanket he figured had to be her head. The blanket stirred a little. "Come on Carol, it's time to go to work".

"MMMM" was the otter's only answer. He gave her tail a light tug. "UGH, I don't want to go to work, I have a sore throat" was her sleepy argument.

A mischievous thought crossed his mind. "If you don't get up I'll use cold water to get you up" he whispered in a sickly sweet voice. The otter's answer was to pull the blanket tighter around her.

Misha walked over to his dresser on top of which was a bowl and a pitcher of water. He picked up the pitcher and slowly poured some water into the bowl. The splashing of water sounded loud in the quiet room.

The otter sat bolt upright in bed, and shouted "I'M UP, I'M UP." She wrapped the blanket around her and gave Misha an evil look. "I hate mornings."

"So I've noticed," Misha commented dryly. Caroline stood up and stretched, and he admired her firm, sleek body. He shook his head to dispel thoughts of sex, "No time for that now, there's too much to do," he thought to himself.

At 3am the mess hall was almost empty, there was only the cook and a few soldiers eating before going on duty. Misha piled his tray full of meat, eggs, toast and a large bowl of fruit. He even found room for a mug of tea. He was on his third slice of beef when he noticed that Caroline wasn't really eating. She was only nibbling at some toast and sipping a cup of coffee. "Carol, don't you want more to eat, this will be your last chance for a hot meal for a long time?"

She just shook her head no. Caroline ran her finger around the rim of her coffee cup for a moment before speaking, "Misha, I'm not sure about this. I don't think I'm ready."

He stopped eating and looked up from his food "Yes you are," he countered "You've been a scout for ten years, and we wouldn't have asked you to join if we didn't think you could do it. I won't lie; this is going to be a dangerous patrol. Being a member of the Long Scouts means long dangerous journeys, that's why we're called Long Scouts but Phil, George and I all believe you can do it. We've been on many patrols together and I've seen how you handle yourself. This is no slow walk around the valley, where we're going one mistake could get us both killed. I'm trusting you with my life, that's how good I think you are."

Carol brightened up, took Misha's hand and squeezed it, "Thanks, I needed that."

They headed back to Misha's apartment to check all their supplies and equipment one last time. They both had a large backpack to carry, along with two canteens and a rucksack. Each backpack held a month's worth of trail rations, a sleeping bag, a first aid kit, tinderbox, and a host of other items needed to survive in the north. All that equipment made the packs large and unwieldy, the only saving grace was that the backpacks were magic and weighed a fraction of what they should have.

Misha took two small jars from off his desk and opened them. Both contained colored dye, one jar held brown, and the other green. Together Misha and Caroline covered their heads, arms, legs and tails with both dyes. Covered with green and brown patches they both looked like one of Pascal's experiments. It was a necessity, when you're hiding from several hundred lutins, even the slightest flash of red or white fur could be fatal.

The armory was their last stop; to pickup armor and weapons. Rather then heavy chain mail both opted for a lighter set of leather studded with iron rivets for strength. Over the armor went a camouflage suit. The Camo suit was made of tough linen dyed with brown, green and black patches meant to blend into the woods. A hood that could be pulled up over the head, would keep some sharp eyed lutin from recognizing the pointed ears of a fox or an otter. Both picked up a longbow and a quiver with twenty arrows in it. A carefully wrapped bundle holding thirty more arrows went into each backpack. The wolf behind the counter carefully handed Misha his great axe. Even with the blades covered by sheaths both of them were careful to stay away from the edges. Those edges were razor sharp. Caroline's long sword was the last thing to be handed over. Now ready they left the armory, and the keep.

The two walked through town till they came to a large post and timber two-story building. The sign over the door read "Will Hardy, Jeweler to the Duke." The proprietor himself stood in the open doorway waiting for his daughter. Caroline went to her father and kissed him goodbye. The old badger hugged and kissed her in return "Please be careful honey," he said loudly.

"I will papa" was her reply.

"Don't worry Will, we'll be fine, we've both done this a dozen times before" Misha said trying to sound confident. Will didn't look too convinced but didn't say anything, he just waved goodbye. As they slowly walked away Caroline turned and looked back at her father who stood in the doorway still as stone. When they came to a corner, she stopped, gave one last wave, slowly turned the corner, and her father passed from sight.

"Relax Carol he'll be fine, and we'll be back before you know it," her partner said trying to cheer her up. She just shrugged in return.

The keep at this hour was quiet, and the two scouts made their way in silence to the outer Gate. They stopped in front of the three soldiers standing guard before the massive doors.

"Stand and identify yourself" one of the sentries ordered.

"Misha Brightleaf, scout," was Misha's reply.

"Caroline Hardy, scout," was his partner's addition.

One of the soldiers nodded and wrote something in a small book. "Recognized," the sergeant said "good luck."

"Thanks" was the sole reply.

As they left Metamor Keep Misha spoke "Remember Caroline whenever you leave or return to the keep always be sure to tell the gate guards who you are. That way they'll always be a record for George the patrol master, and Phil. They both read the logbook everyday to get an idea of who's been in or out. As a Long Scout you don't report to George's office before leaving so identifying yourself to the gate sergeant is very important."

Caroline just nodded.

The first part of the trip was easy. The old Suleiman road north went past villages, farms and forests. The pair passed workers and farmers moving around in the pre-dawn darkness. Sometimes they would stop and talk with a friend or exchange greetings with someone they had never met before, but who understood the danger the two were walking into.

Dawn found them many miles from the keep and still headed north. Gradually the farms and villages grew fewer and fewer, and the forest grew darker and closer to the road. The paved road slowly devolved into a muddy track with no trace of paving left. They stopped in the overgrown ruins of a village for lunch. After carefully checking the wreckage they quickly ate their food. Even then they kept their weapons close at hand, eating in silence, looking, sniffing and listening for anything strange. The lutins who destroyed this village could still be around. Lunch was finished quickly, and their trip continued. They walked slowly up the track making as little noise as possible, checking for trouble. So it was very late before the two of them reached the Giants Dike.

During the waning days of the Suleiman Empire with the many invasions coming south the Emperor decided to block the north end of the pass with a great wall. The ballads describe it as being made of stone 80' high and 30' wide. Towers 120' high were set along its length and great keeps anchored the wall at either end. The bards said a thousand soldiers walked along its battlements. The truth was a little bit different. Far from being stone it was an earthen bank, topped by a wooden palisade and fronted by a deep ditch. The towers were wooden platforms on top of the bank, and the great keeps were never built. Still it worked and held back the tide for a time. It's downfall was politics. Pretenders to the throne would take troops from the wall and march south to claim the throne. Eventually too few soldiers were left to hold back the lutins and the giants.

Time hadn't been kind to the wall. The ditch had filled in, the bank worn down and the palisade and towers long since burnt to ashes. The only things left were a low bank and a shallow ditch both overgrown with trees and brush. Most people had long since forgotten who had really built it. Such a great earthwork could only have been dug by giants was most peoples thinking.

Misha and Caroline carefully climbed the bank, and lying flat on the top surveyed the land beyond. For them the dike had more than historical value, it marked the end of Metamor territory. Everything north of here belonged to the lutins and the giants. From here on the trip would be a lot more dangerous. Misha drew a small book and a pencil from a pocket. In it he wrote the date and the words "Arrived at the Giants Dike after dark with no trouble. No sighting of any lutins. We will push north tomorrow."

"Caroline," he asked in a whisper "what is this book for?"

"Is this a test?" she retorted.

"Just a little pop quiz."

She straightened up and in her best school girl voice answered "The journal is used to keep a record of everything that happens during the patrol. That way we don't have to rely on memory alone when filling out the report after we get back to the Keep."

"And," Her instructor suggested.

"And if we are killed anyone who finds our bodies can figure out what happened by reading it. Cheerful thought," came her answer. "Did I do well teacher?" she said in a sarcastic tone of voice.

Misha gave a short yip of amusement and nodded yes. The pencil and journal went back into his pocket and they both turned their minds to dinner.

One meal's worth of trail ration consisted of a bread stuffed with meat, fish, fowl or vegetables. Misha opted for the meat (he had his choice of beef, pork, lamb, or goat) and the fowl (chicken or duck). Caroline took only the fish. He avoided the fish rations. The salmon and halibut weren't too bad, but the frog one was terrible.

Properly wrapped in parchment a loaf could last for months. Both of them had brought along cheese, dried fruit, and most importantly of all several small bottles of spices to liven up the taste of the bread roll. The rations were long on nutrition, and preservation, but short on flavor. As they ate both of them kept a careful watch on their surroundings.

By the time they finished eating it was too late to continue so they settled in for the night. Even that wasn't easy. While one of them slept the other kept watch.

They were moving long before dawn. Breakfast was cold trail rations and water. A fire was out of the question, someone would see the smoke. It was slow going; Every step had to be placed with care so as not to make any noise, not even the crack of a twig. And always they had to look, sniff and listen intently for any sign of trouble. They took turns leading, Misha had lead the day before, so he let Caroline start off.

Footprints, broken branches and discarded bits of trash all gave testament to the passage of several groups of lutins in the past few days. Even so it was almost noon before they encountered someone. Caroline was still leading, when she suddenly froze in place for a moment then motioned with her left arm towards cover. No other sign was needed; Misha understood what was going on. Three quick and quiet steps took them both into a dense clump of bushes. They lay down in the middle and didn't move. To someone moving past, the two scouts would look just like a part of the bushes. Misha kept his hands on the axe handle and watched a group of twenty lutins go past. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Caroline lying next to him, stone still, her right hand on the hilt of her sword. There was no sign of fear or panic; she was as calm as any veteran. They waited about ten minutes after the last lutin had passed before stepping out on the path and continuing on.

They didn't meet anyone else for the rest of the day. After dusk they picked a spot about twenty yards off the trail and settled in for the night taking turns watching and sleeping. Late in the night as Misha was on guard, another group of lutins came marching past headed north, singing and laughing as they went. It was a raiding party returning home already celebrating their victory. Misha wondered who those raiders had hit. Was it other lutins, or was it someone in Metamor? His silent hope was the raider's victims had been other lutins. He felt something lightly brush his arm. It was Caroline's tail. She was awake but still in her sleeping bag, afraid any movement or noise would give them away. The only thing the two of them could do was watch, and wait. It seemed like forever before the singing and laughing finally moved out of hearing. With the danger over Caroline and Misha swapped tasks. He crawled into his sleeping bag and fell asleep in moments.

All too soon Caroline was shaking him awake. It seemed like only a few seconds had past. It was still dark, but the faint traces of light in the east told the tale that dawn wasn't too far off. Breakfast passed quickly and soon they were again making their way north.

As they traveled traffic on the road picked up and several times the two of them had to take cover to avoid being seen. Finally Misha decided the risk wasn't worth the gain in travel time, and motioned Caroline off the road. About thirty yards off the road, paralleling it was a narrow animal trail and the two scouts continued north on that.

Four more days of steady of marching finally got them to the river. The river Irthing was still at flood stage and that meant it was over a mile wide and ice cold. It was too cold and wide to swim, and too deep to wade. It took all afternoon to find what they were looking for. A seemingly random scratch on an outcropping of rock marked the spot. Neither of them approached it. The two scouts lay near by and scanned the surrounding woods, listening, sniffing and watching. Finally Misha nodded his head and slowly stood up. The two of them made a complete circle around the rock. They moved very slowly checking for the slightest sign of an ambush. Nothing, the area looked deserted, but Misha was taking no chances. He had Caroline stay under cover with her longbow drawn. With axe in hand, he slowly made his way to the rock. Misha placed his back against the outcropping and carefully paced off five steps. On the ground just to his right was a small stone. He stared at it for several moments trying see if anything was different from his last visit.

From his breast pocket he drew out a small pouch. Misha opened it and took a handful of the fine sand out. The pouch was carefully returned to the pocket. He clasped the sand with both hands and quietly spoke "Wi na toha shola." He sprinkled the sand on the stone and the ground around it carefully watching as it hit. Nothing happened, he let out a sigh of relief. If the stone had been booby-trapped, the sand would have sparkled. If someone other than a Long Scout had touched the stone the sand would have glowed a faint red.

Misha picked up the stone and carefully placed it to the side and began digging. In a few minutes he had uncovered four wooden boards. Pulling off the cover he carefully peered into the depths of the cache. Everything seemed to be just as he had left it. By slowly running his fingers over things he checked for any booby-traps. The spell said nobody had found it but Misha knew that a mage could easily hide any trace of a trap. Finally he began to remove the contents. The Long Scouts had many such caches scattered around. Hidden in all the most unlikely places. Nobody liked having to rely on them but some things just couldn't be carried easily.

With Caroline on guard Misha had to work alone. It was a long, arduous task to wrestle the canoe out of the hole. After that he had to cover the hole back up and remove any trace of it. By this time it already dusk, and he barely had time to choke down a bread loaf and gulp down some water before shoving off.

After piling all their gear in the center of the canoe they knelt by the water and checked for trouble. Misha slowly looked out across the water, a few small objects floated past. He followed each one with his eyes. Just bits of debris. He swiveled his ears about listening for the slightest sounds. The burbling of the waters, and the faint sounds of insects came to him. The smell of mud, water and decaying plants drifted on the wind. No smell of lutins, or giants, that was good.

Misha looked at Caroline. She was looking back at him. With her right hand she pointed to her eye then touched her ear and last she traced a question mark in the air. She was asking him if he had seen or heard anything. He shook his head and pointed a finger at her. "No, have you?" was his silent answer.

Caroline answered with a shake of the head.

He pointed at the canoe and made a rowing motion. It was time to get going. Misha didn't relish the idea of crossing the river. If anything happened to the fragile canoe in the middle of the river, they would be in deep trouble. Being an otter morph Caroline stood a good chance of making it to shore, but not Misha. If the current didn't get him, the cold probably would. Even if he did survive he would be washed miles down river and be separated from Carol. They had set up a rendezvous point back where the cache was, but it could take them days to get back together. Being alone, wet, and bone cold in this God forsaken place could be fatal, especially if most of your supplies had washed away. As they started to paddle out into the river, Misha tried not to think about such things. It had happened to him two years before, and he had barely survived. When he had finally gotten back to the keep he had spent a month in the infirmary with pneumonia. He wouldn't have made it back at all if Robert hadn't found him. Misha pushed those memories from his mind and tried to concentrated on rowing.

The river reminded Misha of an iceberg. At first glance it was calm, placid and seemingly harmless but below the surface was a powerful and implacable enemy that wasted no chance at claiming another victim. The current was slow but it moved with incredible power. It took both of them paddling hard to keep the canoe from being swept away. Even so he could feel them being pushed down river. Various bits of debris floated past, tree limbs, branches, pieces of wood, and once a body. Misha hoped it was a lutin, even though it was a bit too big for one. Half way across his arms started to ache and he was panting. It seemed to take forever before the opposite shore finally came into view. About fifty yards from shore the current suddenly slacked off, and he tapped Caroline on the shoulder "Rest a moment." Both of them slumped down exhausted. He could barely move his arms and he couldn't stop panting. The sound of his panting seemed loud even over the babbling of the river. He tried to stop or muffle it but he couldn't, he just had to wait and hope nobody was nearby to hear.

After a long time he had recovered enough to stop panting. His arms felt like lead and he was exhausted but it was getting late and they had to be off the river and under cover before first light. Rowing close to shore and hunching down they surveyed the beach. Carol looked back at him and shook her head. She hadn't spotted anything and neither had Misha. He held up his paddle and pointed to a part of the shore where the riverbank sloped down to the water. The trees grew close to the bank and would provide plenty of cover. The two of them rowed hard to the shore. When the canoe scraped bottom, they hurriedly got out, pulled the canoe up on dry ground and under cover. They lay down next to it and surveyed the area for any sign of trouble.

It was a long time before they were satisfied that they were alone and could relax a little. Caroline leaned close to Misha and whispered into his ear "You never mentioned that the crossing would be so hard."

"It's at flood stage now, but it should be easier on the way back," he countered, "the water should be lower by then."

The two scouts had to wait till dawn to figure out where they were. The current had pushed them ten miles down river. Hiding the canoe wasn't easy; a long search turned up a gnarled weather worn tree. It would serve very well as a landmark. Twenty feet north of the tree they dug a pit ten feet deep and long enough to fit the boat. The canoe and its paddles were carefully lowered in and then the pit was filled back up with dirt. It was hard laborious work, made all the harder because the only tool they had was a small folding shovel. The two of them took turns digging and guarding.

It was almost dark before Caroline scattered the last handful of leaves on the ground over the buried canoe. Misha inspected the spot carefully. She had done a first rate job of hiding all traces that the ground had ever been disturbed. Both of them were bone tired so after eating, they settled in for the night. His partner had done great today so he took the first shift on guard, and let her get some much needed sleep. He let her sleep till after midnight before waking her up. When the fox was sure she was fully awake, Misha stretched out on the ground and fell asleep without even bothering to unroll his sleeping bag.

Despite his exhaustion Misha slept lightly and late in the evening he woke up instantly when something touched him on the arm. A faint thrumming noise filled the air. In the darkness he made out the shape of Caroline, bow in hand sitting next to him. He lightly touched her on the knee to let her know he was awake. She looked down at him and pointed to his weapons. He slowly reached for his axe and bow. The thrumming noise was getting louder. A large dark shadow passed overhead and the noise was louder than ever. Both of them held their breath as the large thing slowly drifted past. It was moving too slowly to be a dragon, even if it was as big as one. It seemed to slowly float past like some dark storm cloud. It took a long time for the shadow to disappear, it took even longer for the noise to fade into silence.

Caroline leaned close to Misha, and whispered into his ear "What was that?"

"I don't know, but I bet it bodes ill for the Keep," was his answer.

She nodded in agreement.

"Pack up we're leaving," Misha ordered. He didn't have to say it twice. In a few minutes, they were packed and moving.

The sun was up, and many miles lay behind them before a halt was called. As breakfast was hastily eaten, he pulled out his journal and pencil, and described in detail their encounter with the flying thing. Caroline looked over his shoulder and added her own comments.

With the meal and the report finished both journal and pencil went back into a pocket, and the two scouts started moving north again. There was still a long way to go.

Continue to Part 2
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