A Hero must disannul any contract if it becomes apparent that success is no longer probable

-Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

Rule #3

   Feral, Riven, and Skemm stood on the edge of their camp, looking out towards where the Western Realm’s armies were encamped. Smoke still rose steadily from that direction now; they weren’t trying to hide any longer.

   “They’ve definitely spotted the King’s army,” Feral said, “At least the first one, any way.”

   He wasn’t sure about his plan to delay the Western Realm but it was their best chance. It had worked in the past but there was always a risk when trying the same, or even similar trick on someone more than once.

   “Are you sure Will’s going to be alright watching after the Princess?” Skemm asked.

   Feral looked back briefly to their camp. Princess Yaria was already asleep and Will had instructions to stay up keeping watch until they returned. Will waved to Feral when he saw him looking his way and Feral returned the wave before turning back to Skemm.

   “He’ll be fine,” Feral assured her, “as long as we’re quick we should be able to be back before sunrise.”

   Riven patted Skemm on the back to add her support and then the three of them headed out into fading light of evening.

   Feral kept a keen eye, looking along the ground as they marched. It didn’t take too long for him to spot what he was looking for and he crouched down, waving for the others to join him.

   “This is Shepherds Bane,” he said, pointing to the short, broad leafed plant he was now pulling from the ground, “keep an eye out for it as we march. I’ve already got a pouch full of its dried leaves, but the fresh ones are even better.”

   “And this is what we’re going to be adding to their water?” Skemm asked.

   Feral nodded. “It won’t kill them,” he explained, “but it’ll sure make them sick for a couple days.”

   “How long will it take before they realize something’s wrong with their water?”

   “Well, there’s the tricky part,” Riven admitted, “we’ll probably only poison a few hundred soldiers before they catch on.”

   “But,” Feral cut in, “it’s usually the officers who are first to be served their morning rations of food and water. Upsetting their chain of command will be about as much as we can hope for.”

   “And make sure you wash your hands with some ash and water before you handle any food you intend to eat yourself,” Riven added as they began their march once more. “The oils in the leaves will linger for days if you don’t wash it off properly.”

   They were able to find several more patches of Shepherds Bane before it became too dark to continue foraging for them. By that time, however, the glow of the watch fires was growing brighter and they needed to proceed more cautiously to avoid being spotted by the sentries.

   “Water barrels will be scattered throughout the camp,” Feral said when they reached the last piece of cover between them and the camp. “The Western Realm likes to spread things out, but once you find them, the lids should lift right off. Tear up a couple leaves, drop them in, and move on. We need to taint as many water barrels as we can. If you’re spotted, get out. Don’t try to fight, you’ll just get surrounded and killed. Also, if you’re spotted, don’t go back to our camp. Hide out in the hills for a couple days before going back to make sure you don’t lead them to Will and Her Highness. Once you’re done, assuming everything goes well, we’ll meet back up at that peak there,” Feral pointed to a low peak overlooking the valley.

   All three of them nodded and then each headed off in a different direction. Feral hated splitting up but it was the most efficient way for them to put his plan into action. He knew Riven would be fine. She was by far the stealthiest one among them. He was also confident in his own abilities. Skemm though, he honestly didn’t know how well she would fare. He hadn’t given her enough attention during their travels to really understand her strengths and he regretted that now.

   Feral watched for signs of movement behind the watch fires and waited until he was confident no one was looking before he slipped quickly into the camp. Once inside he first busied himself with finding a cloak and checking the patterns of the patrols. The last thing he wanted was to blunder face first into a group of armed soldiers who’s job by definition was to go looking for trouble.

   The cloak he found without too much difficulty. After ducking his head into a couple of tents he found one lying discarded beside a sleeping soldier and Feral quickly wrapped it around himself. The patrols were harder to monitor since they walked quietly and carried no torches. However, past experience and patience allowed Feral to discover that they all moved in the same pattern, rotating around sections of the camp in a routine manner. If Feral just made sure to move in the same patterns, and roughly at the same speed, he would be able make his way around the camp without being spotted.

   Before long, Feral found his first set of water barrels. He looked around to make sure there weren’t additional guards posted here and was relieved, albeit slightly surprised, when he didn’t see any. He had half expected General Jernagin to have assigned at least a few soldiers to keeping watch over their water. As he approached the barrels, however, he spotted a tiny thread attached to the lid. It was so thin and nearly invisible in the faint light that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been so cautious. Where the string ran to, he wasn’t sure, but it was pulled tight so either cutting it or opening the lid would likely set off whatever trap had been set.

   Looking around again he spied a set of grain barrels not far from the water barrels. The grain was commonly boiled and served as a morning meal, or else used to make bread. Feral wasn’t sure what effect cooking would have on the Shepherds Bane but it looked like his next best option for poisoning the camp. Once he was certain that these barrels weren’t similarly trapped as the water barrels, he lifted their lids. The fresh leaves he’d gathered that night would be of little use but the older, dried leaves he had from before crushed easily in his hands into a fine powder that mixed into the grain almost imperceptibly.

   He wasn’t sure how long it took him to taint the grain barrels in that section of the camp and Feral hoped there would be enough time to taint a sufficient number for his plan to work. He had some contingency plans developing just in case but he would much prefer not having to go that route.

   As the night lengthened, Feral’s hopes for an uneventful, and most importantly successful, attempt to poison the army increased. He’d just used up the last of his dried leaves and was considering how he might make use of the fresh leaves when a loud horn blast rent the air. The horn was far enough away that he knew at once it wasn’t an alarm for him, but for one of his companions.

   The patrol he’d been avoiding in this section of the camp rushed passed him within moments of the horn sounding and Feral lost no time in following them. He kept the cloak he’d stolen earlier wrapped around him to covered the fact that he wasn’t wearing their uniform and as more soldiers fell into stride with them, all intent on pursuing the alarm, no one took much notice of him.

   The running group of soldiers Feral had joined made their way almost to the edge of camp before they came to a stop. By the light of the watch fires Feral could make out the forms of soldiers, some in their armor, most in their sleeping clothes, gathered around in a wide circle. In the center of the circle, crouched like a cornered beast, was Skemm. Several soldiers lay dead on the ground already and a few moved in such a way to suggest Skemm had been making quick work of them. Unfortunately, as more and more soldiers continued to surround her, Skemm’s route of escape was shrinking fast.

   Her eyes were darting all around her as she searched for a way out. Few soldiers were willing to approach her just yet, and considering the bodies lying around her Feral didn’t blame them. Most soldiers were trained for mass combat, not for dealing with a single fighter. In truth, if they all just rushed her at once they would be able to deal with her in a moment and with very little risk to themselves. Fortunately these soldiers weren’t the most strategically minded.

   In one’s and two’s they came at her and Skemm cut them each down in turn. With a flourish of her blade she ran her final attacker through and kicked his body to the ground. There were still hundreds of soldiers standing in the ring around her but none came forward to challenge her as they all shifted uneasily on their feet. Feral had to admit that Skemm was quite the accomplished fighter. She’d learned to watch her back since her run in with the bandits and the soldier’s unwillingness to rush her had proven to be their downfall.

   Someone began to clap. It was a slow, almost congratulatory clap, but given the circumstances Feral doubted very much it was anything but mockery. The soldiers seemed to be just as perplexed as Skemm as they all looked around for the one clapping. The soldiers on the far side of the circle facing Feral parted and a man, still clapping, walked into the ring of soldiers with Skemm. His uniform was crisp and highly decorated. His hair was white but that was the only sign of his age. It was clear from the way he moved that he was powerfully built. Feral knew him at once and he itched to draw his sword and run General Jernagin through. Knowing the general as well as he did, however, he knew he couldn’t just rush him and expect success. He would be prepared for this, and it seemed keeping Skemm alive was, so far at least, part of his plan.

   “Most impressive, Hero!” General Jernagin stated as he stopped clapping and he drew his sword. “Unfortunately I’m still going to have to kill you.”

   He struck at once and with such speed that Feral was amazed Skemm had been able to duck out of the way of his assault. General Jernagin smiled and Feral remembered with loathing how much the man had always enjoyed playing with his prey. He moved to strike again and Feral knew he couldn’t delay any longer if Skemm was going to survive.

   “Of all the times,” he called out, pushing his way forward through the assembled soldiers, “to have someone who doesn’t waste time with cheap talk!”

   General Jernagin halted his attack and turned at once towards Feral. The loathing on his face almost matched that of Feral’s.

   “I thought you might find your way back here,” General Jernagin spat.

   “You remember me?” Feral said with mock gratitude.

   “How could I forget?” General Jernagin growled as he and Feral began circling one another, slowly drawing closer and closer together.

   “Well,” Feral shrugged, “the last time we met I left you with such a large bump on your head that I could only assume there would be lasting effects.”

   Feral had to stall for time. He wasn’t sure where Riven was, but he was certain she was there somewhere and he had to give her time to do…well, to do whatever it was she was going to. He certainly didn’t have much of a plan beyond delaying and, if possible, killing General Jernagin. If Riven was smart, she would use this time to get back to Will and the Princess while the rest of the army was distracted. Past experience told him, however, that Riven wouldn’t leave him and Skemm behind, much in the same way Feral hadn’t ever considered leaving Skemm behind.

   “I see you’ve gotten yourself a new army,” Feral remarked and he turned his back on General Jernagin as though surveying the soldiers. As his gaze passed over Skemm he met her eyes and signaled for her to move somewhat closer to the edge of camp. She was shaking somewhat from her recent fighting but she held her sword tightly and began to edge her way around the circle. “You did tell them,” Feral went on as he turned back to face General Jernagin, “didn’t you?”

   There was a quiet but unmistakable murmur of “Tell us what?” that ran through the gathered soldiers.

   “You didn’t tell them?” Feral gasped in false surprise.

   “We’re at war!” General Jernagin snapped. “Losses happen!”

   “And no one thought to ask awkward questions?”

   “Like what?”

   General Jernagin was obviously furious but it was clear he had no desire to attack Feral outright. Their last encounter seemed to be enough to make him uneasy about fighting Feral again. Secretly Feral shared his hesitance. It seemed to Feral that they were both so accustomed to being so superior the fighter that when faced with a near equal opponent it was quite unnerving.

   “No one thought to ask what happened to your last army?” Feral asked. “You know, the one you lost in a single night. The one that the other armies heard shouting and screaming but when they came to investigate they found only their bodies, and you among the injured.”

   More shuffling from the gathered soldiers as they exchanged glances, though none of them dared challenge their General.

   “Enough!” General Jernagin shouted and he struck his sword out in a flash.

   Feral sidestepped the strike but did not strike back himself. Instead he continued to circle the General. He had to exude confidence, he knew, if he was going to have any chance of intimidating the soldiers. If he could perhaps convince them that he was too dangerous a threat, perhaps he and Skemm would be able to walk out of there. It had worked before in other situations, he had to hope it would work here.

   “Isn’t it interesting, General,” Feral said, having to force his voice to remain even and strong while he felt his own heart throbbing in his chest, “how quickly you rushed to attack this Hero that you’ve never met, and yet when you come face to face with me, whom you’ve admitted to having fought before, you’re hesitant to fight me again.”

   Feral chanced a glance around at the soldiers, knowing it was dangerous to take his eyes off General Jernagin for any amount of time now that they were so close to one another. The soldier’s unease was palpable and they seemed ready to break. Feral took a few steps back from General Jernagin and then addressed the soldiers.

   “Why do you think that is?” 

   “Don’t listen to him! I—

   “It’s because you remember me!” Feral shouted over him. “And you’re not too keen on losing another army to me in the dead of night!”

   General Jernagin’s face burned with hatred but still he did not attack. Feral hoped it was because he, too, was intimidated by Feral but chances were still high the General Jernagin had something still planned to deal with him.

   As though on cue Feral heard what he had been listening for all evening: the twang of a bow string. Feral threw himself to the ground, just barely ducking out of the way of the arrow. He immediately pulled his dagger from his belt, rolled back up onto his feet, and threw the dagger as hard as he could at where the arrow seemed to have come from. He doubted his aim would be true but the cry of alarm and faint outline of the archer falling from his perch above one of the tents was enough to tell him he’d at least startled the archer enough for him to lose his balance. The truth that he’d missed with his dagger was irrelevant to the gathered army.

   “I’ve had this planned from the very beginning!” Feral cried out, though still wary for additional archers. The Western Realm wasn’t known for their archers, but that obviously didn’t mean they hadn’t brought any with them. “I knew where you were! I knew the Hero would be caught! I knew who your General was and how he would behave! Now ask yourselves this, why would I have come here, done all of this, if I didn’t also know who of us would be leaving here tonight alive!”

   No one stirred now. No one murmured. Not even General Jernagin moved although Feral could feel his hatred and his longing to kill him. It was a mutual desire but Feral knew he must still be patient.

   “Any of you who want to live,” Feral concluded, “may retreat back to your own lands. If you stay, you die! If you return, you die!” He added a small flourish with his sword for good measure.

   Slowly at first, and then in greater numbers, soldiers began to back away. Before long, the majority of soldiers had retreated and the ring of soldiers had been reduced to a thin and gap ridden collection of soldiers who, while not retreating, still looked uncertain and Feral guessed they would be unlikely to try and stop him and Skemm from leaving.

   “Cowards!” General Jernagin cried out into the night at his soldiers. “I’ll flay you alive when I find you! I’ll tear you and your families apart! I’ll—

   A large rock smashed into General Jernagin’s chest and he grunted in pain. Feral turned and saw Riven walking over to join him, another rock held casually in her hand. Skemm also came and joined them.

   “I believe that was two thirds of the army I got to—

   “Save it,” Riven whispered, cutting Feral off, “they have archers in the trees outside of camp.”

   “Oh, good,” Feral muttered with heavy sarcasm. “I knew this was too easy.”

   He pointed his sword to General Jernagin. “You die first!” He shouted, and then added under his breath the Skemm and Riven, “Take out the archers.”

   Feral and General Jernagin charged one another and their blades flashed like lightning in the glow of the watch fires. Neither had ever fought so desperately nor with such fury and the ferocity of their battle was enough to distract even the most battle hardened warrior. From the corner of his eye Feral saw Skemm and Riven, who both had brought their bows, slip out through a gap in the soldiers. With any luck they’d be able to find and pick off enough archers for them to make their escape. In the mean time, he had to make this fight last as long as he could. If he won too quickly, the archers would rain down arrows upon him in such great numbers that he’d have no chance of avoiding them all. Unfortunately, dragging out a fight with someone as skilled as General Jernagin was far easier said than done. Every strike was aimed to kill and, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure who was the better swordsman. Feral had skill, certainly, but he also relied heavily on tricks and intimidation that may or may not prove effective against General Jernagin.

   Several times Feral felt the sting of cold steel against his skin but he didn’t allow himself time or thought to consider how serious any of his injuries may be. He scored a fair number of blows against General Jernagin as well but always kept himself from cutting too deeply for fear of ending the fight too early.

   Suddenly the noise of their fighting was drowned out by a terrible, screeching cry. Feral knew that sound well, though it was one he’d thankfully only heard a couple of times. It was the sound Riven made when she was in true danger, when she is so overwhelmed that she fears she is about to die. Whether it was a conscious action on her part, to perhaps distract her enemies or else signal to Feral that she was in dire need, or if it was some bestial response to her own fear of death Feral wasn’t sure. All he knew was that if he didn’t get to her know she would most likely die.

   General Jernagin lunged at Feral, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, but Feral had never stopped paying attention to their fight. If anything, Riven’s cry had given him even greater focus than before. Feral parried the oncoming thrust and then plunged his shoulder into General Jernagin’s chest. He struck right where Riven’s rock had hit him earlier and he felt ribs crack beneath his blow. He twisted and lifted General Jernagin off his feet and threw him to the ground where he lay gasping for breath.

   Without looking back, Feral charged the line of soldiers that stood between him and where he’d heard Riven cry. The soldiers didn’t budge as he charged and so he threw his sword at them, getting it to spin wildly through the air and scattering the soldiers before him as they ducked out of the way of his sword. Once through, the arrows began to fall all around him. From experience he knew a moving target was harder to hit than a stationary one so he kept running until he found Riven. She was kneeling behind a large stone, sheltered from the hail of arrows that followed Feral. Not far behind, the remaining soldiers were beginning to form up and advance into the darkness beyond their watch fires in pursuit of Feral.

   “Are you okay?” Feral gasped.

   Riven nodded, though a broken arrow shaft hung from her left arm. She’d already wrapped it in a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. “Skemm’s down,” she said and Feral finally noticed Skemm lying unconscious at Riven’s feet, an arrow lodged in her chest. “You need to understand, Feral,” Riven said in a rush as the soldiers drew closer, “she didn’t have to take that arrow. She saw it coming, could have ducked away, but we’d just found their last expert marksman and he was taking aim at you.”

   “Then let’s get out of here!” Feral said and began to pull Riven to her feet.

   “No,” Riven said and pushed him away from her. “I can’t run, I’ll only slow you down. Get her out of here. Get to the peak. I’ll catch up.”

   At first Feral didn’t understand and then he saw the glint on her right thigh where blood had soaked through her bandages and was shining in the distant firelight.

   “You can’t carry us both,” Riven said as though reading Feral’s mind. “I’ll be okay,” she added when Feral didn’t move. “It can bear some weight. You go, and while their focused on you I’ll slip away. I should be able to get to the peak in a day or so.”

   Feral knew they didn’t have time to argue so he stooped down and gingerly picked Skemm up. The less the arrow shaft moved around inside her the better, but he’d have to wait until they were well away before he could remove it and dress the wound.

   “See you in a day or two,” Feral said though he noticed the lack of hope in his voice.

   Riven patted him on the back to get him going and he began the long race into the night. Arrows danced around him at first but as he put more distance between himself and the watch fires their shots became both less frequent and less accurate. The soldiers pursued him much further than the arrows did, however, and before long he felt the warm, wet feeling of blood running down his arms and chest and he hoped that it was his own blood and not Skemm’s.

   At last, as Feral climbed higher into the foothills and the night deepened to the darkest point, the soldier’s gave up their pursuit. Without being able to see more than a few yards ahead, and Feral being sufficiently quiet in his running that they couldn’t hear him over their own noise of marching, they had no choice. All the same, Feral did not stop until he had reached the peak. A small cave, hidden from sight, served as their shelter that night. He didn’t dare light a fire until morning and he’d need the fire to heat a hot iron to seal Skemm’s wound. In the mean time he checked that she was still breathing and redressed her wound as best he could.

   One of the few beneficial attributes of Shepherds Bane was that it could help stop the bleeding in most wounds. He ground the freshest leaves into a paste and spread it gently around the wound, careful not to opening it any wider. He had to hope that would be enough for tonight.

   The remaining paste he rubbed onto his own wounds, all of which were thankfully shallow and wouldn’t have any lasting effects on him. Just more scars.

   He didn’t sleep all that night. Every moment was spent worrying for the few people in the world he was responsible for and knowing just how precarious all of their lives were.