The Oak and Beast

A solid polish — 1h04m52s — 2020/10/25

Baet stared at the meteor in his hand, astonished by what had happened. The cavernous courtroom was no longer as it had first appeared, but was now a wreck of tumbled stone and dusty air. The meticulous splendor and sagacity of the room, which had so intimidated the guard when he first entered, was now a smoldering mess. The few remaining attendees tiptoed about, as if expecting another shock at any moment. Baet looked up at the hole in the dome, then back down at the crushed form of Kezodel, half buried in marble, and wondered at the momentous turn. He thought nothing could stand against them so long as the shaman was about; then, remembering the shaman, he turned to find the man lying on his back. His face and chest smoldered from where the lightning struck. His burnt skin reeked. He lay slumped in his sister’s lap. Baet wondered if he was dead, and thought perhaps their luck wouldn’t last after all.

Meu approached and leaned over the unconscious form of the shaman. Krumpus was still under the influence of Meu’s venom, and she found the shaman's consciousness in a world of dreams, rich and wondrous. For a second, she thought she might try to pull him back into the real world—but instead found herself distracted by the glory of his vision. She was astounded at what she saw, and not wanting him to slip their bond, she licked venom onto her lips and kissed the shaman again. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, to make sure that her mind melding toxin was ingested, and as she did so, the sister took offence and pushed her away.

“Hey!” Scurra shouted. “None of that hanky!”

With an apologetic smile, Meu retreated. She was closer than the sister could possibly know as she peeked into his mind, distracted by what she saw—oh so distracted.

"How did he do that?" Celesi whispered to Toar as she edged in close to the shaman. "How did he summon the stone?”

"He didn't," Wenifas stated with a far-away look as she stood and dusted herself off. "He simply sensed it. He's touched by the gods," she said.

Scurra turned on the priestess. "What do you know of it?!" she snapped.

"Did you not hear?” Wenifas replied. “He did not want the judge to die—as corrupt as he was. He called the man to repentance!"

"And how is it that you know what he meant to say?" Scurra asked. "Do you speak Tallian Hand?”

Wenifas shook her head and turned away with a shrug. "Some secrets are not mine to share,” she replied.

Scurra huffed as she wrapped protective arms around the shaman. Who were these strange women and what did they have to do with her brother?

“Is he alive?” Traust asked his cousin.

Scurra checked his vitals and gave a nod. “He may be out, but his ticker is strong, and his breathing is even.”

"Good,” Traust frowned as he stared about the ruined room. “We are not safe here—not even in this city. I think it is best if we return to our own people."

"Where are your own people?" Creigal asked.

"Hearthstone," Traust answered. “Maybe ten days to the east.”

"I too hope to travel east," Creigal said. "I track a thief and believe he is in Land's End."

"Land’s End is a short hop from Hearthstone,” Traust gave a nod. “You are welcome to join us. Any friend of the shaman is a friend of ours."

"I should like that," Creigal replied with a smile. “And I thank you. These are my men: Carringten, Baet, and Toar."

"And the others?" Traust asked.

Carringten answered for his duke. "That is Meu, constant companion of the shaman—and just as quiet. The young one is Celesi, who was an apprentice and servant to the Jay, Meriona, until most recently. The last is Wenifas, priestess of the Eternal Song, with her progeny, Claiten and Evereste. We’ve traveled with them for many days,” he said with a nod. “I say we let them go where they please, in the company they wish to keep." He said to the foreign captain, and also his duke.

Wenifas stared at the dark man, surprised by the endorsement. Although she spent a week in close proximity to the foreigner, she spoke less than a dozen words to the man. In fact, she hated him for his part in the murder of Derris—but there’d been a truce of sorts, and she felt at this point there may be safety in numbers, especially since she was now in a foreign city, and banished from her own country.

“And do they also wish to journey to Hearthstone?” Traust looked to the ladies.

Wenifas glanced between Celesi and Meu. She’d follow their lead, and silently hoped Meu would lead— but the serpent lady was distracted by the shaman’s visions. Instead, it was Celesi that chose their fate. "I would go with you even to Hearthstone," she smiled at the captain and the duke, and glanced sideways at Toar. "My people lived in the west. They are all gone; dead, or slaves themselves. I have nothing here…" she explained before she thought better of it and allowed her words trail off.

Traust nodded. "These are my men: Apulton, Aim, Andrus, Elpis, Saleos, the brothers Homoth and Komotz; and my second, Duboha. And this is the lady Scurra, a countryman and sister of the shaman. We are all members of the Oak and Beast."

"The Oak and Beast?" Celesi repeated.

"The finest militia in the Freelands," Apulton said with a grin.

Toar leaned close to the girl, "all the militias say this."

Apulton gave a nod as he leaned in on Toar. "We just happen to be right," he said with a wink.

"It’s a pleasure," Creigal stated and shook hands with the men one after another.

"Now that formalities are out of the way, I suggest we abandon this place," Traust said. "Aim, do us a favor and bring the shaman along."

Aim was a mountain of a man and the largest of the Jindleyak by a good hand. The sheer size of him reminded Creigal of his dead guard, Vearing. The glaring difference between the two was Aim's gentle demeanor—something quite unlike the snarl-toothed swagger of his own former guard. "Excuse me, sister," Aim said to Scurra as he gently collected Krumpus and cradled the small shaman in his massive arms.

They all started moving out of the room. Meu took Wenifas by the hand, her face bewildered and far away. I must go, Meu spoke in the woman's mind. I am... distracted.

"Stay with us!" Wenifas pleaded and tried to pull Meu after the others. "I am lost without you!"

These others shall protect you. Meu leaned close and kissed the priestess with more toxin upon her lips. Do not fear; I am never far!

Wenifas frowned—but the others were leaving the chamber, and Meu was still in her mind. Celesi took Wenifas by the hand and pulled her along as Claiten clung to his mother's dress. "Find me!" Wenifas called as she allowed Celesi to pull her along.

"Is she not coming with us?" Elpis asked the priestess.

Wenifas shook her head as she followed the guard out. “She must find us later.”

Meu watched the party go. With the Jindleyak delegation to keep them, Wenifas and the shaman should be safe; and since she was mostly alone, it was time for Meu to be herself. She summoned the darkness and shifted into her serpent form.

There were still several others shuffling among the ruins of the room as Meu shifted. One gasped to see her transform. “Chimera!” he called and pointed—though he was wrong; Meu was merely a skin-walker wyrm. The others turned and stared at the great winged serpent, but Meu paid them no mind as she launched herself at the jagged hole in the dome and surged upward into the sky. Although she felt the worry of Wenifas in her mind, she concentrated on the thoughts of Krumpus and his dreams of epic splendor. Ethereal beasts of incredible magic and power counseled the shaman. Connected to his thoughts through the venom of her tooth, Meu was exposed to the light magics they weaved in the dream world. She spun upward and rolled in the warm rays of the sun as an incredible peace washed over her. She'd never felt so loved—or so powerful!

Below, the others stepped through a long hall and pushed aside anyone that stood in their way, though most of the court was empty. Traust shouted at the remaining few as they passed, and the Degorouth wisely stood aside. The few Ministrians they saw scurried away as quickly and quietly as possible, still quite frightened by the sudden death of their leader. Having taken many meetings in numerous nooks and corners of the court, Traust knew the building quite well. He led the group into a small walled garden and quickly made his way down a side path. The party stopped before a small gate in the garden wall, as several guards barred the way. The guards looked bored and unconcerned. Somehow they knew nothing of the day’s troubles. They stood tall and straight as they noted the approaching militia. Worry played over their faces as they noticed the grim and serious manner of the Oak and Beast.

Traust stopped several paces before the guards and put his hand on the wolf’s head hilt of his sword. He took an offensive stance and glared at the guards. "You can let us out, or we can let us out,” he began. “Either way, we are going through that gate.” As one, the Jindleyak militia checked their weapons.

Heavily outnumbered, the Degorouth watchmen put up their hands and backed away from the gate to show they were not looking for a fight. Their sergeant muttered curses under his breath as he fumbled among his keys. For his own sake, he could not open the gate fast enough.

Away from the Great Court, the company continued for several blocks. Traust led them into a tight alley, then stopped. There were no other people about. He turned to his men. "Pack it up," he said as he pulled off his own tabard, to reveal the bare armor beneath. The militia men stripped off their tabards, rings, necklaces; anything that marked their affiliation with the Oak and Beast. They stuffed these items into their bags and pockets. With a shrewd eye, Traust appraised the gathered crowd as he calculated a plan. "We need volunteers to go to Edgewater," he began.

"I'll go," Apulton said.

"Give me one more," he looked among his men.

“I’ll go,” Toar said and stepped forward—but it seemed as if Traust didn’t hear him. “I’ll go,” he repeated, but the foreign captain continued to look to his own men.

With a shrug and a glance about the others, Andrus raised his hand.

"Good,” Traust said. “In my apartment, in the top drawer of my dresser, you’ll find a brass case. Bring it to me."

"What's in it?" Apulton asked.

"Coin, correspondence, personal affects I do not wish to leave," he said and turned to his other men. "If anyone else wants items from Edgewater, now is the time to confide in your friends."

The Jindleyaks pressed on Apulton and Andrus as they asked them favors. The list of requests continued to grow, and caused Andrus to complain. "There is too much! We shall need another body to carry it all!"

"I'll go,” Toar repeated once more. “I have an acquaintance in Edgewater that I should like to see, if only for a few minutes."

Traust frowned as he measured the young man.

"I vouch for his loyalty and intelligence," Creigal said. "He has no love for Kezodel and his Degorouth, and will do nothing to jeopardize us."

Slowly, Traust gave a nod. He turned to Apulton. "Take the young Bouge with you. The estate is invariably watched, so use the shanty tunnel—and stay away from any open windows." He gave the guard a key. "Meet us at the House of Leaves, and don't dally, or you can make your own way to Hearthstone."

Celesi grabbed Toar by the hand. "I go with him!"

With a sigh, Traust agreed. "So be it. Anyone else have a burning desire to go to Edgewater?"

Wenifas frowned—though she bit her lip. She knew Celesi didn't mean to abandon her. The apprentice Jay only meant to stay near Toar. For her own sake, and for the sake of her children, Wenifas decided it might be best to stay among the bulk of the men.

Apulton, Andrus, Toar, and Celesi left the others.

“Sir,” Elpis began.

Already knowing his concern, Traust raised a hand and turned to the younger man. “Take the Ministrian and her children to your Lady Yandira," he said. "Scurra, will you go with them?"

"What of my brother?" Scurra asked.

"We take him into the caverns of Beletrain,” Traust answered. “Him and the foreigners. It is the best way to sneak them east.”

"I have no fear of the tunnels," Scurra replied.

"I do not ask you to go for your own comfort,” Traust noted. “I ask for the sake of the priestess, that I do not send her with Elpis alone. I would have asked the Bouge girl to go with her, but it appears she does not want to be separated from her man," he shrugged.

Scurra considered his words. With a nod she waved to Wenifas. "Okay then. Let's go."

The priestess shook her head. "I stay with the shaman," she insisted as she stepped closer to Krumpus. He was the only one left that she trusted among this strange crew, and although he was still unconscious, she meant to keep with someone familiar.

Traust shook his head. "I will not bring children into old Beletrain. What if the babe should fuss or cry? It is risky enough with so many capable men,” he noted. “Besides, we need to warn the Lady Yandira of what has transpired, and I should like her to meet us at the House of Leaves. We may not be able to bring the shaman out of his stupor, and if not, we will need her connections to move him out of the city.” He leaned close to the priestess. “If it comforts you, know that you will have less trouble and more luxury with the Lady Yandira.”

Scurra took Wenifas by the hand. "So long as I live, I promise you will see my brother again," she assured. “Now come along. I wish to be rid of this place.”

A sense of dread and urgency welled up in the priestess. She grabbed hold of the unconscious shaman and pulled against his hand in hopes that he might wake. “No!” she cried—then flinched as a strange electricity passed through his hand and into her own. A flash of insight caught in her brain. She knew they were right. Beletrain was not a place she wanted to go. She let go of Krumpus and took hold of his cloak instead. "If I must travel the streets, give me his coat, that I might not look like such a foreigner," she said.

Scurra frowned and shook her head. She opened her mouth, about to speak.

Wenifas cut off her protests. "I promise surety for it!" She said as she dug in the purse stolen from Fedring. She pulled out a gold sol and offered it to the woman.

For a long second, Scurra stared at the coin. So did everyone else. They all had the same question. Where did a lowly priestess get such a heavy gold coin?

"If his cloak is so valuable, do you not want it with you?” Wenifas asked as she waved the gold round at the shaman’s sister. “As he is, your brother cannot protect it."

Scurra gave a slow nod to Wenifas as she took the gold sol. "Okay then," she began as she held up the coin. "I hold this against its return."

With the cloak about her shoulders, Wenifas felt much better. She turned and followed after Scurra with Evereste in her arms and Claiten at her side. Meu was gone, and Celesi chased after Toar. She thought she'd be excited to finally be away from Derris’s murderers—but she wasn’t. She was nervous. Her world was suddenly a very different place. She was banished, and found herself wholly at the mercy of foreigners—foreigners that stared after her. She regretted showing such money among them. They all noticed the gold sol. How many of them took note of the hefty purse that it came from?

Creigal watched as Elpis led Scurra, Wenifas, and Claiten down the street. "Will they be safe?" He asked.

Traust shrugged, "Safer than us, I should think; for you and I go into the serpent's den."

“The serpent’s den?” Carringten interjected.

Traust nodded. "Below us is an ancient underground city, built by naga. It is a nest of tunnels, a labyrinth that runs deeper and further than any man truly knows.”

“They say the tunnels run all the way into the mountains and even beyond,” Duboha added. “Some say they go all the way to the center of the earth.”

"I think we can take that for exaggeration," Traust replied. "Needless to say, it is not without risk."

"Naga?" Creigal asked. “I’ve only heard rumor of such beasts.”

“They are most certainly real,” Traust answered. "Long like a serpent with arms like a man. They are intelligent and dangerous; and Ebertin is built over one of their great cities."

"You know the history well?" Creigal asked.

“Not half as well as Duboha,” Traust noted. “He’s been here half his life.”

"It is a fascinating history,” Duboha claimed. “Hearthstone is staid in comparison; nothing but farm lands and festivals as far as the eye can see."

"I would call it idyllic," Saleos stated. "Who in their right mind wishes to live above a naga city?"

"Much of it taken from the naga," Duboha argued. "Paid in blood.”

“Much of it,” Saleos mocked as he shook his head. “You do not know how much of it men possess. The war has never ended. The way I hear, the war ‘s been at a standstill almost since it began, some two hundred years ago.”

"And we mean to enter these tunnels?" Carringten asked, uninterested in leaving the wide open light of day for tight quarters under the earth. “Is there not a better path?”

Traust shook his head. "We are a formidable lot. There are routes, corridors, entire sections of the underground city under the control of various militias. Indeed, it’s a point of pride among the militias to have a constant presence in Beletrain. We are unlikely to see any naga. The beasts prefer to stay deep in the earth."

"It is rare to run into naga,” Duboha agreed. “Especially during the day. I have been in the tunnels a great number of times, and I have only seen the beasts twice. Once it was a corpse, and once it was just before it became a corpse."

"Indeed, even in the tunnels, our biggest worry will be other humans,” Traust stated. “The Ministrians are known to go underground, among several unfriendly militias.”

“Sounds dubious,” Carringten noted. “Perhaps we should just stick to the streets?”

Traust shook his head. “It is still the best way to sneak notable foreigners and a comatose man through the city. If we should come across a few naga, we are a good number and quite dangerous ourselves. If we stay in the streets, if we run into a troop of Degorouth in the open,” he frowned. “Indeed, the longer we dally, the worse it will be for us. I suspect as soon as the shock wears off, the city will be thick with our enemies. At least the naga care nothing for our politics.” He turned to his men and waved them forward. "We dawdle. If we mean to do this, let’s do it. I'd prefer to be back above ground before the sun sets." Traust led the troop down several dingy back streets. Creigal followed with his men. They came to an old stone building with a tavern on its first floor. "Meet me around back," Traust said to his men as he stepped into the establishment and approached the bar.

"What can I get for ya?" The barkeep asked.

Traust leaned in close. "I’d like down into Beletrain," he said.

The barkeep leaned forward and locked eyes with the militiaman, "It costs a pretty bone to get into that den of snakes."

"I have no chabling, and not enough chits,” Traust replied. “Any chance you'll take metal?"

The barkeep's face lit up, "Keep your lousy dragon bone, and curse the Minist traitor that gave it to you!" he said in a harsh whisper. "Only fools decline good metal coin!"

"My man," Traust clapped the barkeep on the shoulder and passed him several heavy pieces of silver. "Will this cover it?"

With a wry smile, the barkeep nodded, swiped the coins, and led Traust from the bar.

"There are others at your back gate. We'll need to let them in," Traust noted.

They stepped through the kitchen and down a long hall. The barkeep opened the back gate and let the others in. He pointed down a side passage. "This is the way your lookin' to go."

The Jindleyak piled through the gate and took an immediate left. There was a small room with half burned torches all about a table. Each man took a torch as the barkeep unlocked a heavy metal door with a good number of stops and catches on it. Slowly, he pulled open the heavy door and revealed a thin spiral ramp beyond.

“Why not stairs?” Carringten asked as he followed several of the Jindleyak down.

“And why would snakes build stairs?” Duboha replied.

The ramp opened into a large cavern which was not rough at all, to Carringten’s comfort. The walls and ceiling were bricked. Despite heavy wear, they looked to be quite solid. Down the length of the long room ran a wide aqueduct. The room narrowed into corridors at the east and west ends, then proceeded into darkness. Looking closer at the stone, Creigal noted glyphs and symbols all about the passage. "What is this?" He whispered.

"Naga tongue," Duboha said of the characters carved into the stone and shook his head. "Can't read any of that.” Further along the wall were more characters of a different nature, scrawled in red paint. “This is Trohl," he smiled as he pointed at the rough painted letters.

"What does it say?" Creigal asked.

"Danger," Duboha shrugged. "Like we wouldn't know..."

"The water smells drinkable," Carringten noted.

"It varies," Duboha said. "Some of the streams and aqueducts are pure as rain. Some only look as pure as rain, and some are outright sewers.”

Duboha gave a nod. "During the war, the Bouge poisoned these aqueducts. It didn't bother the naga—but the poison killed a great many people. Indeed, the poison did far more damage to Ebertin than Beletrain. Some say it almost caused the Bouge to lose their own city.”

“Some plan,” Baet snorted.

Duboha shrugged. “Several of the men that did the poisoning were hanged for the troubles they caused. Needless to say, don’t bother trying to poison a naga.”

Creigal was about to make some comment about the luxury of being immune to poisons, and how he could have used such an ability all too recently—but Traust came down the ramp and immediately started into the tunnels. "Let's go,” Traust said as he started forward. “And let's be quiet,” he added as the others followed.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 1.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

At the front of the Great Court, Hoapur Brendalfas and other members of the Gray Sons militia dragged the corpse of the chimera, Kezodel, onto the steps of the court for anyone to see. “People of Ebertin! Look and hear what has become of our fearless leader!” Hoapur sneered. “See what hubris and pride have caused for this great man!”

A crowd gathered and Hoapur told the story of what he witnessed in the Muaha’s court, then told it again as more people gathered. For nearly an hour, he shouted and denounced Kezodel to any that listened.

The common people of Ebertin gawked and gossiped about the dead chimera with his great, twisted, hairy physique—his strange leathery wings, and long claws. They poked, pinched, and prodded the corpse as Hoapur continued his diatribe.

Eventually, several of Kezodel’s more ambitious lieutenants gathered the men and gumption to chase off the curious locals. They chased off the gawkers, then took the body of their fallen leader to a secure setting, in hopes of saving some scrap of the dead judge’s dignity.

Yet, several thousand commoners had shuffled past and witnessed both the judge’s weirdness and the sordid story of his demise. Though it traveled in hushed assertions and hurried whispers, the news of the Muaha’s death spread like wildfire upon a parched and thirsting landscape—and all the talkers agreed that there was bound to be trouble.

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