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

Part 2

Pascal woke up with a start, and looked around her small room. It was alight with a faint green glow.

HUMMMMM...

A high-pitched hum filled her small room. The sound was annoyingly monotonous, and terribly persistent.

HUMMMMM...

Something was wrong, she thought to herself, very wrong. Alarmed, she stood up and grabbing her red robe from off the stool put it on. The noise frightened her, it sounded ominous and foreboding. She picked up a dagger from off of the desk.

HUMMMMM...

The light and noise was coming from under the door. Opening it she stepped through into her lab. The door should have led to the hallway, but she didn't mind. Sometimes the door led to her lab, and sometimes it led to the hall.

HUMMMMM...

The light and noise was coming from a table that stood next to the door. This worried her. There were a lot of nasty things that could cause the noise and light. She carefully waddled up to the table, and examined it. Amid the beakers and cups lay a small stone. The light and noise was coming from the stone. Leaning closer she studied the rock for a moment. It seemed harmless enough.

HUMMMMM...

Pascal carefully touched the stone, and then with more confidence picked it up. Clasping it in both hands she closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the stone's magic.

Hummmm...

The noise didn't seem so loud or menacing now.

"Come on Phil, where are you? Answer me please," a voice called out in her mind. It sounded impatient, and worried. She focused her mind on the voice, and moved closer to its source.

"Phil, is that you?" The other person was a male in his thirties, a canine by the feel of it. Someone she knew but wasn't really close to.

"Who is this?" Suspicion and curiosity were the emotions that came through to her.

A fox, her questioner was a fox morph, and he was contacting her from a great distance.

"Who is this? Pascal? Is that you? I was trying to get Phil. I don't suppose the rabbit's with you?"

She moved closer to the voice, and she started to get an image of the fox. The first thing she noticed was that it was dark and wet. The rain was coming down in a steady stream, and it was late in the evening. It took a moment for her to adjust to the darkness. The fox was crouched in a small dugout carved into a hillside. The opening was camouflaged with branches, twigs and the like. After a moment she recognized the speaker. It was Misha Brightleaf, one of the scouts at the keep.

"Misha where are you? I get the impression that you're very far away?"

"True, I'm on a scouting mission for the rabbit. Is he there with you?" Pascal got the impression that despite being under cover Misha was wet and cold in addition to being tired. Pascal shivered in spite of being in her warm laboratory. The connection between them was becoming too close.

"No, he's not here, I'm alone in my lab."

"Drat, I'm sorry about that, did I wake you?" Misha said, "by the way that robe of yours needs a good cleaning."

She self-consciously pulled her robe closed.

"I'm sorry Pascal, I didn't mean to peek. This spell was only supposed to pass along sound, not sight and smell. I never was a great mage" he said apologetically. "I need you to pass along some info to Phil for me. Please, it's very important."

"Why?" she asked "What's so important, and exactly where are you?"

"It's hard to explain, but only two people know where we are. We're about a half days walk south of Starven."

"STARVEN! That's a three-day ride north of here. What are you doing there?" she asked in surprise.

"I'm a Long Scout, girl," He replied as if that explained everything.

Someone touched Misha on the knee.

"Who?" Pascal asked reflexively.

"Caroline, my partner," was the answer, "Now hush, let me work."

Curious, she concentrated harder, and became aware of someone sitting next to Misha. In the darkness all she could see through Misha's eyes was a black, vaguely human shape. The figure that must be Caroline pointed out of their dugout.

He looked out of his hiding place and swore silently. Pascal couldn't help but laugh, he was very proficient in cursing, and could do it in several languages. The humor disappeared when she concentrated on what he was looking at. The dugout the two scouts were hiding in was on the side of a hill. Through the rain and darkness she could vaguely make out a road below them, and in the distance were the lights of a small city that must be Starven. But it wasn't the road, or the city that caught her attention. Coming up the hill, less than fifty yards away was a group of people, at least ten of them.

"Do you think they know you're there?" Pascal asked.

"No, not yet, but they suspect something is here," he answered.

Misha made some signs with his hands. After a second his partner made some of her own. The translation didn't come through fully, but it seemed to Pascal that they were comparing notes on the people coming at them. There were fifteen of them, not ten. In a loose group slowly moving up the hill. They weren't meandering, they were moving with a purpose, straight towards the hiding place. As they came closer Pascal's attention was drawn to a tall person in the center of the group. That person had something clutched in both hands. Even at such a long distance, and seeing through someone else's eyes she recognized that the figure was using magic.

"Misha, the tall one in the middle, he's a powerful magic user," She warned.

"Are you sure?" was the reply.

"Yes, he's using magic to find you."

A flurry of hand signals passed back and forth between Misha and Caroline. Pascal only caught the last parts.

"So the leader goes first," Caroline signed.

Misha just tapped her on the knee twice "Agreed."

As the hand signals continued to go back and forth Pascal realized the two scouts were planning on who in the group to kill, and how. Finally Misha tapped the otter's knee twice ending the discussion. The plan seemed to be if spotted, they would first use their longbows to kill as many as possible. Then they would close, and finish the job with sword and axe. The first one slated to die was the tall magic user. Pascal felt a pang of guilt as she realized that her comments would likely get that mage killed.

"Don't feel guilty about that one's death, Pascal. I had him figured for the leader before you spoke," Misha's words rang in her mind. She hadn't realized he could read her mind. This connection was too close. Too personal. She backed away, blocking her mind, but didn't break the connection, she was too curious.

"Ok Misha, relax. This is where you earn your pay." She could feel his fear as he spoke those words to calm himself.

The group was now less than twenty yards away, and she could see that the two lutins in front were dressed in chain mail and carrying bows. Misha slowly reached down and patted the axe that lay next to his leg. "Easy, Whisper, it's almost time to go to work." She felt the faintest touch of another mind besides Misha's. Had she felt it, or just imagined it? He slowly picked up a longbow with his left hand, using touch alone. His eyes never left the party coming up at him. His right hand found the quiver at his hip. He slowly drew an arrow and nocked the bow but didn't bend it.

Misha carefully looked to his left, and through his eyes Pascal could see that Caroline had her own bow lying across her lap. They were both waiting. The two lutins in front of the group were now less than ten yards away. "Go away, you green bastards," his words echoed in Pascal's mind.

Now the lutins were less than twenty feet away. Suddenly one of them stiffened, and turned his head towards the rest of the party behind him.

"SHIT! We've been spotted," Misha's words blasted into Pascal's mind. He stood up crashing through the camouflage, and in a flash bent and loosed his bow twice. The two lutins dropped without a word. Suddenly Caroline was standing next to him loosing arrows. In quick succession Misha shot five arrows, each aimed at a different person. Four of them found their mark. An arrow sailed past his head. His eyes scanned and found the archer, in the back next to a tree. He calmly placed an arrow into his enemies chest. "Lets finish it," he said aloud in a voice as hard as steel. He dropped the bow behind him, reached down, and picked up his axe.

In that last instant before he rushed forward, Pascal could feel the fright and anxiety in his mind, "St. Barbara protect me and all who are in my care" was the fervent prayer that came through to her.

The battle came to Pascal's mind in a confused jumble of images. There was no time to think, just act and react. He let out a blood curdling yowl, and hafted the axe over his head as he charged forward. There was the smell of sweat, mud, fear and blood in the air. A lutin wielding a sword loomed up in front of him. The axe swept down, and suddenly the stench of blood filled his nostrils. Many miles to the south in her lab Pascal sagged against the table and fought back the nauseous.

There was the sound of fighting off to his left. Caroline was fighting with two figures, both taller than she was. He started towards her raising the axe. One of the attackers turned and made a complex gesture with his hands. Despite the terror Pascal recognized the spell being cast. As the axe came sweeping down she tried to warn Misha. That spell was a shield spell. Nothing could get through it, not even Misha's axe. "Wait, you can't get past..." the axe swept down, through the shield and into the mage behind it. Pascal saw the look of surprise on the man's face, just before the blade bit into his chest.

Suddenly it was over. Misha was standing axe in hand looking around. The stench of blood, and death was everywhere. Pascal was laying on the floor panting, and shaking trying not to throw up.

"They're all dead Misha," The words startled Misha and Pascal both. It was Caroline. She slowly made her way over to him.

"Pascal, are you still there?" The fox asked.

Pascal couldn't think straight, the smell of blood and death filled her with terror. She wanted to run away and hide in some dark corner.

"Pascal answer me. Are you all right?" This time the touch of his mind brought to her worry and compassion. After a moment the smells vanished leaving only the fear. "Pascal, think of something nice. Think of you and Scratch snuggling up together in front of a nice warm fire on a cold night. Think of the warmth and love." The panic and the fear slowly vanished like a bad dream. "How are you feeling now?" Misha asked.

She slowly stood up, and shook herself. Her quills rattled noisily in the quiet solitude of the lab. "I'm fine," She finally managed.

"Misha" Caroline had spoken those words in a whisper, but to Pascal it sounded like a shout. Misha looked over at Caroline who was bent over one of the bodies. He knelt down next to his partner and looked at the corpse. It was the mage, or what was left of him.

To Pascal the body didn't look too bad at first, until she realized that he had been cut in two at the waist. Misha turned the dead man's face towards him, and leaned closer for a better look. With the rain splattering down on it, the face looked almost peaceful. The fine clothes and the well-groomed mustache and beard spoke of noble birth and upbringing. "Well, it seems God's justice may be slow, but it is certain and inevitable."

"It's him isn't it?" Caroline asked. Misha just nodded in return. Caroline spit on the corpse and then slapped that peaceful face twice.

"Who was he?" Pascal asked, unnerved by the otter's action.

"That thing's name was Furlin, commonly known as Furlin the Flayer. He was one of Nasoj's lieutenants. A more brutal and vicious monster you'd be hard pressed to find."

"He looks so peaceful."

"I saw him personally kill seven people simply because they happened to be in his way. People call us monsters and demons because of our looks, but if there ever was a true monster in this world it was him." He took a dagger from his belt and started to cut off one of the dead man's ears.

"Taking a souvenir Misha?" Pascal whispered in his mind.

"No, I'm getting proof. The Duke has a ten thousand gold piece reward for Furlin's death."

As he was putting the proof into a pouch the sound of voices came to Misha's ears. Looking down the hill he saw a large group of people standing at the base of the hill. Hand signals flashed back and forth between the two scouts.

"There's at least fifty of them," Carol signed.

"They're trying to work up their courage to come up here and find out what had happened," was her partner's silent comment.

"Pascal, tell Phil what just happened. Also tell him that there's a force of two thousand lutins moving on the old Empire road. There are four giants with them. The whole group just passed our position moving south."

"Time to go, we've stayed too long," Caroline signed. Misha nodded in agreement. There was a shout from down the hill, snapping sounds and a whistling filled the air. Both of the scouts flattened themselves against the ground. A score of arrows thudded into the ground just short of them.

"Pascal, tell Phil we'll head for the den. Things are going to get real ugly from now on."

"Good luck to both of you."

"Thanks," Misha managed before he ended the spell, and broke the connection. Pascal's last image was of the two scouts running.

Pascal opened her eyes. She was still standing next to the table in her lab. She held her hands up and saw that they shaking badly. After a moment she headed for the door to the corridor.

The door opened slowly and a four-foot tall rabbit peered out at Pascal. "Pascal, do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry to bother you Phil, but I've been in contact with Misha and..."

"Misha! Come in, come in," he said excitedly, and waved the porcupine in.

The room was small, and cramped. It felt more like an oversize closet than an office, and Pascal had to move carefully to avoid knocking something over.

"He was trying to get you, but his message spell went awry," She explained.

"Misha never was a good mage," Phil said shaking his head. He motioned her to a seat.

Pascal explained the spell, her talking to Misha, the battle she witnessed, and Furlin's death. He listened in silence interrupting only once, to have her describe Furlin's face again in detail.

When she had finished Phil sat quietly for a moment. Hanging on the wall was a long blue cord with a gold tassel on the end. He clenched the cord with his teeth and gave it three good pulls. In a moment there was a knock on the door, and a young boy of around ten came in.

"You called sir," He said respectfully.

"Yes. I want you to send for Diane the assistant patrol master, and get Will the gate captain."

The page nodded, and left on his errand.

"Aren't you going to do anything else?" Pascal asked, a little disappointed at his lack of reaction. "If Nasoj finds them he'll flay them alive."

"Yes, we are going to help, but we have to act cautiously. A lot of people wanted to see Furlin dead. Nasoj won't know who murdered his favorite lieutenant, just that he was killed. Being so far north his first thought will be to blame the lutins. Last year Furlin killed one hundred and fifty lutins of the Bloody Maw tribe as punishment for disobedience. Before that he killed seventy-five lutins of the Rending Claw tribe for not bringing his tribute fast enough. Even the lutins of his own army could have killed him and then faked the ambush. Nasoj won't know who to look for or where find them. Misha and Carol will have more sense than to leave any clues behind. Even the arrows they use were taken from dead lutins. If we send out a big party to help them and make a big show of force, Nasoj will know exactly who killed Furlin. That will tell Misha's pursuers just who to look for, and where they're headed."

"So you're not going to do anything?" Pascal asked still confused.

"Of course we'll do something. Just as my people watch him, Nasoj has his people watch us. It's a subtle but very deadly game that goes on all the time, and Misha knows how to play the game very well. I'll send some people out to help him and Caroline, you can be sure of that. It will have to be done quietly though, without a lot of noise. Right now their best defense is confusion, doubt and anonymity. By the time Nasoj figures out what really happened they'll be long gone and halfway home."

"What about the other half?"

There was a long silence before he answered. "They're both Long Scouts, Pascal, and there are no better trained or more experienced people at the keep. Misha's been up north hundreds of times and been in worse predicaments than this."

"What are the Long Scouts? I've never heard of them."

"There has always been a need to get first hand information on what was going on up north. The Longs take care of that, and a lot of other dangerous jobs. You could call them the elite of the scouts, but don't tell Misha I said that. He hates it when I call him elite. He prefers to be called a scout, and a troubleshooter."

He slowly guided her to the door, and she took the hint. The door didn't have a doorknob. Where the knob should have been there was a small square hole. Phil carefully inserted a forepaw into the recess and pulled the door ajar a bit. Then the rabbit opened it the rest of the way by sliding his other forepaw in behind it, and then pulling normally.

Pascal shook her head at the sight. "What happens if someone tries to open the door while your paw is in that hole?"

Phil rocked his ears. "It gets broken sometimes, Pascal. My forepaw that is." He held up a forepaw that had no thumb or fingers, just short toes, and waved it in front of her as he talked. "Mostly it just hurts like hell."

"Yeesh!" she replied. "That's awful! I think I can come up with something better than THAT!"

Pascal halted in the doorway. "Do you really think they'll be alright?" She was still worried in spite of what he had said.

"Don't worry Pascal, Fox has been in worse spots before. The two of them will be fine." He sounded pretty confident. "I'll keep you informed of how he's doing. When they get back you can buy them dinner. Now if you'll pardon me, I have a lot of work to do." With those words he closed the door, and left Pascal alone in the hall.

As she headed back to her rooms she contemplated everything that had occurred. Phil had sounded confident, unworried. Things couldn't be too bad for Caroline and Misha. Relieved, she quickened her pace. If she hurried she might still get a couple of hours sleep before dawn.

Continue to Part 3
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