Chapter 439

439 339 – Standoff at the Stables

As it turned out, we didn’t have to run as hard as we did. Maximus was well outside the glade where the Stable stood tall and proud. And, thanks to my work, it leaked less heat in the winter.

“Ah, and there is the errant Basilicus and the Survivor.” he said on seeing us. “And both still alive, in spite of reports. So, this is what you call a stable, eh? I’d truly hate to siege anything you would call a castle.”

I pointed to structures. “Stable, granary, armory. The wall, as you can see...”

“Is made of wood.” he said. “But see those gaps there, up top?”

“Machicolations.” I said. “Allowing them...”

“To drop crap on us. Literal crap, and barrels of urine. At least they only have the one catapult.”

“Maximus. We don’t want to be here after dark.” I said.

“There’s a river to the south.” Basilicus said. “Deer may be sneaky, but I’ll bet they splash just as much as we do.”

I sighed. “We don’t need to do this.”

.....

“Yes.” Maximus said. “We must.”

I rubbed the temples of my head, where a dull throbbing had begun. “Why?” I asked. “Please explain this to me.”

“We’ve lost too much to give in now.” he said.

Others nodded their heads at his sage advice.

“Not compared to what you will lose!” I said. “Look, I didn’t help build any part of that you can see from here. But trust me to know defenses.”

One of the youths, a woman, said a snide remark that doesn’t bear repeating here.

“Every part of that,” I said, “Is built to kill you. See that ivy, growing up the wall?”

“Douseweed.” Basilicus said. “Keeps us from burning the whole thing down around them. So what? We have enough axes. We can get through that gate before dark.”

I sighed. “You really ought not to attempt that.”

“Basilicus.” Maximus said.

“Maximus?”

“If you had an axe, would you lead that attack, please?”

“Of course.” he said.

“No.” I said, “Please don’t do this reckless thing.”

Raising high an axe from Maximus’ inventory, he called, “Axemen! With me! Yes, Axewomen as well!”

As they charged forward, flames ignited atop the gatehouse.

“Not. A. Word.” Maximus said, gripping me about my snout for emphasis. He didn’t even look at me, the whole time watching as oil, lit by yellow flame, fell upon the ranks of people closest to the wall.

I looked down as the screaming continued, the hacking resumed.

“A true friend would watch this.” Maximus said.

“I’ve seen this before.” I said. “From both sides of the wall.”

Their morale broke with the second wave of flaming oil, burning orange, but trailing clouds of black smoke as it fell. “Alchemist’s Fire.” I said.

Maximus stroked a perfectly healthy cheek with his hand. “How much of that can they possibly have?”

“Eighty barrels, minus the four or so they just dumped... they can do that thirty eight more times before they’re back to urine.”

“Fire is some nasty stuff.” Maximus said, as Basilicus shouted out the retreat. Three had gone down during that assault, and one of those had been left curled up next to the wall. He didn’t move, except as the items the deer pelted him with moved him.

“Such battles are made of such stuff. If we are to be at the campsite before dusk, we should leave in the next hour or so.” I said.

Basilicus snorted. “That’s one tough gate; we’re not breaking through today. Give us two days to heal, and then another two after that. They can’t fix it while under siege.”

“We’ve gotten little enough forage today.” Maximus said. “Let’s get to that river campsite.”

My intestines growled their agreement.

“Cease that.” Basilicus said. “We’ve deer meat enough.”

“You can count me out of that.” I said.

They stared.

“It’s a religious thing.” I explained. “One ought not to eat anything intelligent enough to ask not to be eaten.”

“How is even your religion a thing twisted and alien?” Maximus blurted out. “More meat for the rest of us!”

There were cheers around the clearing.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” I asked.

“The others are not able to come.” Maximus said.

I took a quick look around. “Three dozen? Only four of them female? Our numbers are dropping quickly.”

“Oh, NOW they are OUR numbers.” Basilicus said. “You were chummy enough with their murderers earlier today.”

I rolled my head back far enough to get just a hint of sunlight on my bottom jaw. “They are also my friends.”

“We are not your friends.” Basilicus said.

“Some of us wonder if we are even allies.” Maximus said.

“I’m trying to get as many of you east while alive as I can.” I said. “I’m not trying to WIN a conflict; not on this side of the Elven Woods.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t trying to get a meal tonight.” Basilicus said. “You should sleep... lightly.”

“Speaker of Truth,” Maximus said, “If we assign you a guard shift, will you work it to the best of your ability?”

“He nearly died last time he was on guard shift.” Basilicus reminded him.

“I am trying to protect both the herd of migrants and the herd of my friends.” I said. “Although I don’t think they’re coming tonight, I would continue to protect the herd.”

“Which herd?” Basilicus asked.

“Why don’t you think they’re coming tonight?” Maximus said.

“Imagine yourself a sentient deer.” I said. “You’ve been attacked and killed by a people you don’t know. When you go out at night to find your fallen, you find their bodies butchered.”

“They cower inside their walls, pissing themselves dry.” Basilicus said.

“They seek vengeance.” Maximus said. “So why will they not attack tonight?”

“Because,” I said, “You left the bodies of your dead where they fell.”

Maximus snorted. “Deer won’t eat flesh; not even sentient Deer will do that.”

“Have you ever seen what happens when a plow is run over a body?” I asked.

“Here is something I heard from another Speaker of the Truth.” Maximus said, idly kicking at me. “Not all truths need to be spoken.”

“You have asked, and I have answered.” I said. “Blame me all you want for it not being an answer you wished to hear.”

I did not cook, nor help to cook, but I did forage for such nuts and leaves and berries as the spring season makes common. And I tried to pass on the washing of dishes, but that discussion was not one I was going to win.

Not with as many dead as we had.

I did what I must, both then, and as a night guard.

And in the morning, I learned how wrong I was.

Between two trees on the other side of the bank, a barrier had been erected. A barrier made of uncured hides. Minotaur hides, crudely but firmly stitched together.

I almost retched when I began recognizing and naming the former owners of those hides.

“Tycho, God of Victory.” said one of the youths, before vomiting his stomach contents into the river.

“Cassandra! You bastards, look what you’ve done to her!” one of the females shrieked.

Others were named. Octavian, the Hunter. Gentle Parsimony. Victorious the Victorious. Honorius Plebius. And others, whose names less matched their personalities and deeds.

Maximus looked across the river, silent save for the deep breaths he took and the noises his hooves made when he stomped them.

“This.” he said, waving his arms. “This must be answered.”

“Tomorrow, brother.” Basilicus said, “Remember we are still wounded from yesterday.”

“So are they!” Maximus snorted. “They mock us, and you would give them a day to recover?”

“I would give them longer.” I said. “The elven wood is not far that way, toward the rising sun. There, you can rest and grow strong again.”

“Oh?” Basilicus asked. “Are you weak, then, having only eaten the food of two champions?”

“I offered to share what vegetables I found, only to be told it was the sort of food that food itself eats.”

.....

“And how has it weakened you?” he pressed.

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I sighed. “My Well Fed trait is about to fall into suppressed status. My Might and its associated sub-statistics will drop by a single point.”

“That sounds annoying and depressing.” Maximus said. “Come on, warriors, with me. We have members of the tribe to bury.”

Night predators normally awaken after dusk, and are asleep with the dawn. Normally.

Latavious had time to scream, before he was pulled under and upstream.

“River crocodile!” I said, diving against the current.

I sent,

he replied, lazily rolling to drag Latavious back and forth against the stones of the river bed.

I said.

[Sharma the River Crocodile is worth negative fifteen divine favor and loss of a Rank of Faith.]

We never buried Latavious.