Sapphire's Place - Bek D. Corbin's " Foxglove "

"All Role Playing Gamers dream of stepping into the shoes of their characters. But when Simon Brewer finds himself really living the life of his favorite character, the saucy thief Foxglove, he discovers that Dungeons are no fun in real life, and Dragons are hazardous to your health!" FOXGLOVE

or,
Reflections in a Gorgon's Eye
A Transgendered Fantasy

This story is dedicated every Gamer who had a really great game ruined by the unwanted intrusion of crass reality.

Edited by Steve Zink

CHAPTER 19

I Don't Think It's A Mary Kaye Lady...

Escorting a refugee caravan in complete darkness in the small hours of the morning is not exactly easy on one's nerves. Especially when the hostiles that you are hiding from are most at home in the dark. Either the darklings weren't up to tackling the convoy without their Dyrghul master, or they were scouring another part of the forest - or maybe the had their fill at Guirnir's Stead.

Far more likely, they knew that they could find the refugees any time they wanted - the only place that offered any kind of protection was Flournoy. And they were headed there, anyway.

Once the sun came up, the convoy made a lot better time, and they were at the walls of Flournoy before Noon.

The Mayor of Flournoy wasn't very happy about the people that the convoy brought in. "You were supposed to get more fighting men from Guirnir! Instead, we just have more mouths to feed! What are we supposed to do with these women and children?"

One of the Steadswomen, 'Auntie' Shella, came forward. "You're slaughtering the beasts for smoking meat and sausages?" She jerked her head at the open-air abattoir. The mayor nodded. "And baking bread as fast as you can make it, for travelling loaves? Then we can help out there, freeing up the men I see wasting their time doing a half-assed job of it!"

The nobles gathered around Henrak and Jassen. "Well? What did you see?"

Jassen shook his head. "Didn't see nothing."

Henrak shook his head more slowly. "It's going to be bad. I didn't see any Army, but what I did see was more'n just some overgrown Orc raidin' party. They had this one thing - called it a 'Dyrghul' - it just took old Guirnir and drank him like a bottle of beer."

As Henrak and the other nobles continued to weigh what little real evidence they had, Zohar was making busy with his pet project. "Did you finish it?" he asked the carpenters. They nodded. "And you arranged everything exactly as I told you to?" They nodded again.

"J'Mira!" he called to the ranger up on the wall. "What do the signs say about that Army getting any closer?"

J'Mira looked up at the sky. She pointed at three winged figures high above. "Those aren't birds up there. I'd say that whoever's in charge of that Army has given up on land-based scouts. So, they know exactly where we are, if they didn't before." She pointed off to the hills that lay north by north-west. "I see thin smoke trails from about a half-day's march away. When the West Wind blows, the wolves say that they smell dead flesh that isn't rotting the way it should. They say they smell Were and worse. Given the distance between here and Guirnir's stead, I'd say that they could be here about, oh, the second bell after midnight."

Justin interrupted. "But they won't do anything real, the first night. With only a few hours between the time that the main force arrives and sunrise, they couldn't do much more than set up camp. So, they'll form their camp just around the corner, and send a few bogeymen to rattle our cage a little tonight. Tomorrow night, though - that's when they'll really start getting nasty."

Zohar took a deep breath. "Well then. Theocles, would you set a warding out, about, oh say, twenty yards from the roadward wall? As for me, I'm gonna be doing some hard spelling, so don't count on me for much tonight or tomorrow."

Theocles looked like he was biting off a sharp comment, but went about setting up a barrier of ground rock salt.

*****

They came in the night, in small harassing groups. They didn't really try to breach the walls of Flournoy. They did throw flaming torches at the wooden walls, and make short attempts at clambering up them. No, their first attempts were more to rattle the mortals inside, and rob them of precious sleep.

If anything, the people inside Flournoy were more spooked by the gentle sounds of leathery wings overhead that did nothing, than they were by the landbound skirmishers.

Throughout the night, Doctor Zohar painted strange symbols on the wooden 'obelisk', and performed his hermetic rites. When the Sun rose and the last of the daylight enduring creepy-crawlies had scuttled off to their little beds, he performed one last ritual, burning incense on a brazier and shouting strange words of power. At the end of his work, the 'obelisk' glowed with a purple aura, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Foxglove raised a questioning eyebrow at him as she sipped her morning tea.

He just smiled a weary smile. "Not to worry - everything's going off according to plan."

He went over to the black painted tower and opened the wide door. In the middle of the wooden floor was a small, exact replica of the 'obelisk'. He picked it up and nodded to one of the workmen. "Get a shovel and come with me. Foxglove, tell the others to finish laying down the floors and move all the non-combatants inside. Then load the place with food in every space that isn't being occupied by people. Get as much of both in there."

"What is this, some kind of large scale teleportation spell to get all of this to Seth-Barrak?"

"Sorry, Foxglove, but I can't tell you."

"Why Not?"

"When you're dealing with magic on both sides, you just don't talk about things that you need kept secret. There are too many ways that someone might be listening in - or worse."

Hmmpphh! Foxglove thought to herself, far more likely he just wants to do some grandstanding. Heh. Well, it's not like she was immune to that herself; let the man have his moment of glory - if it went off as he planned, it was all for the good. If something went wrong, at least she'd have something with which to beat him over the head.

*****

There was Were and worse on the wind; you didn't need a wolf's nose to smell it. You just had to lift your nose and take a deep breath when the wind came out of the West. There was the smell of forest and plain - and ashes, and blood, and fear, and rot. Justin pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself as he looked in the general direction of where Guirnir's stead had been. The smoke from the ruins had been easily seen well past noon. Now, as the shadows grew long with the setting sun, the smoke had faded. But the spot still grabbed your eye. There was smoke coming from campfires, from behind a hill just around the bend of the road. Justin desperately wanted to send some kind of scout out there, but he knew better. The woods were undoubtedly full of the kind of nasties that could go about in sunlight, and they'd be watching the town for just that sort of thing. Even with all of their skill and magic, sending any of the 'stealth squad' out there would be suicide for them. Foxglove and Mornsong were scrying for all that they were worth, but the Army's camp was well warded against their magic.

They would come tonight. Justin could feel it in his bones. The crops had been taken in, the flour had been milled, the cows and goats milked, the livestock had been shorn and slaughtered, the sausages smoked, and everything stowed away in Zohar's silo. The women, children and old folks were also safely in the silo. Zohar had had yet another idea, and was rigging something up in several of the buildings, the Lords of Light only knew what it was. The men - and a handful of women that Justin would have bet on against a full-grown Troll in a knock-down-drag-out fight - were patrolling the wall. Come on, you bastards - enough with the dramatic build-up!

Then Justin spotted Zohar and one of the townsmen outside the walls. Zohar was looking around, as if trying to get a better idea of the space around Flournoy. After a bit, he chose a spot, and he and the townsman began digging a wide though not very deep hole. The townsman tuned his back, and Zohar put something in the hole. Then he covered the hole up and they came back. Justin couldn't help but wonder. So, Zohar was preparing a surprise. Justin just hoped that it was a surprise for the Army of Darkness, and not for them.

*****

The first howl came just as the sun touched the western horizon. The next few hours were full of furtive motion in the woods far outside the clearing around the town walls.

A few hours after sundown, the sentries heard the sounds of something coming through the woods. "HOLD! Come forth and be recognized!"

"Ho, Meschak! It's me, Virgarth Guirnirson! Open the gates! There are goblins hot on our heels!"

"How did you get away from the raiders? How many are you?"

"I have five men with me! For the love of the Gods, let us in! We have wounded with us!"

Avon and Hargrim were passing by. "What's the ruckus?"

"Virgarth and some survivors from Guirnir's stead are asking to be let in."

"But Virgarth was all set to die with his father...Meschak, you haven't invited them in yet, have you?"

"Why would we have to invite them in?"

"Hargrim, go get Theocles - STAT!" For once, the dwarf did what he was told. Avon clambered up the ladder to the walkway and yelled out into the darkness. "HO! Virgarth!"

"Bard! So, you did get here all right!"

"Show yourselves!"

"Open the gate! We have a man here is need of a healer's touch!"

"Why don't you come forward?"

In response, Virgarth and four men, two of whom were carrying a fifth limp between them, stepped out into the clear. Meschak started to say something, but Avon stopped him. "Exactly what were you going to say?"

"I was going to tell them to come to the gates."

"No, that's as good as an invitation. If they are what I think they are, that's the last thing we want right now." Avon called out, "What's the matter, Virgarth? Why aren't you coming closer?"

"What are you about?" the watchman asked the bard.

"They're just about at the edge of the warding that Theocles laid down."

Then Theocles, Hargrim, Foxglove, Kitsune and Gyrval raced up to the battlements. "What's up?"

"Virgarth and some of the steadsmen are out there. Or, at least something that looks and sounds like Virgarth."

Gyrval leaned over the rampart. "Virgarth! Virgarth, is that you?"

"Gyrval! Gyrval, brother of mine, please let us in! The Unclean aren't far behind! Father is with us, but he's badly hurt!"

Avon gripped Gyrval's shoulder. "That can't be true - we saw the Dyrghul drain him like a mug of beer and throw him away!"

Gyrval glared at Avon. "So YOU say! _I_ saw no such thing! And that is my brother out there!"

"Then why isn't he pounding on the gates? Why is he just hanging there, waiting for us to do something stupid?"

Foxglove raised an eyebrow. "Well, if they're waiting for us to do something stupid, why don't we? On OUR terms, of course."

"You have an idea?"

"Well, it IS possible that the Undead didn't kill this Virgarth guy. He may be under some kind of charm or compulsion. If he is, then we kind of have an obligation to get him out from under their thumb. Besides, if they were really thinking, they'd have a bunch of whatevers tear them apart outside the ward, to lay a guilt trip on us, along with a hefty dose of raw fear. Besides, if we don't do something, they'll just keep calling to us pitifully, wearing away at our morale."

Foxglove turned to Theocles. "Father, would you Bless my sword? Also, could you spare a phial or two of Holy Water, and maybe a spare Holy Symbol?"

Theocles blessed the silver blade and gave Foxglove a sprinkler of Holy Water, along with the golden Holy Symbol from around his neck. Foxglove walked down to the gate with Gyrval. As the bolt was being pulled from the doors, Foxglove saw that women and children were filing into Zohar's silo.

"What's that all about?" Foxglove asked one of the watchmen.

"The Sorcerer told us to load all the non-combatants into the silo. He's also having all the horses readied."

"Any idea what he's up to?"

"You'd know better than I would. He's playing this very close to his vest."

Foxglove and Gyrval walked by the light of a bullseye lantern to where Virgarth was waiting.

Gyrval relaxed visibly at the sight of his older brother. He started to speak, but Foxglove hushed him with her hand. "You! You say that you are Virgarth Guirnirson."

"Yes, of course I am! Ask my brother!"

"You were raised in the faith of the Holy Church?"

"Yes, I-"

"Then kiss this." Foxglove held the Holy Symbol up to his face.

Virgarth paused and then leaned over, his lip pursed. Then he lunged forward, a snarl on his face. Foxglove was expecting it, and thrust forward with the Holy Symbol, shoving it into the Undead's face. The ankh-like pendant burned his forehead as if it were red-hot. Virgarth screamed like a lost soul, as was only appropriate.

The other men bared fangs and made to leap. The two holding the 'wounded' man dropped him, effecting a miraculous recovery on his part. Foxglove whipped out her blessed silver blade and presented the Holy Symbol. Unfortunately, that 'repel the Undead with the Holy Symbol' trick only works if your are either a cleric of that religion or exceptionally devout. And Foxglove didn't even know what the names of the gods of the Holy Church were, let alone believe in them!

"Scin! Now!" From under Foxglove's cape, where she'd been hiding, the Imp scurried up onto her shoulder carrying Theocles' Holy Water sprinkler. She shook the device at the Undead, splattering drops of Holy Water on them. Foxglove took advantage of the vampire's confusion to put Virgarth out of his misery with a forward slash that cut his throat and a backslash that took his head completely off.

That done, she grabbed a horrified Gyrval and dragged his paralyzed body back over the warding. Once safe - or as safe as you could be with an Army of monsters heading your way - she tried to slap Gyrval's wits back into him. "Snap out of it! He's dead! He's been dead for days! You're alive! Let's try to keep it that way!"

Gyrval shook his head, and turned to go back. Then his spine stiffened. A loud course voice echoed out of the darkness. "Gyrval! Gyrval, you shame me! Did I raise you to turn and run like a whipped Dog?"

"Father?" Gyrval whispered.

Foxglove grabbed him by his cloak, "He's DEAD, too! It's a trick! A filthy trick! Let's get back to the town!"

And so, Gyrval Guirnirson made his way back to Flournoy, with his father's words ripping at him like razors from the darkness.

CHAPTER 20

It Could Be Worse- They Could Be Jehovah's Witnesses!

Guirnir's voice taunted them from the darkness for while, but then his voice was replaced by something more ominous - the sound of drums.

The drums went on for about an hour, and then one of the sentries spotted something off in the dark. It was a line of lights spaced out a few feet from each other. The line of lights was twenty across, and they could see another line well behind it, and there was a suggestion of another line behind that. The lines of light advanced slowly, until they came to the perimeter of the warding, where the fighters on the battlements could just make them out.

They were a line of darkling soldiers, all in identical armor, each holding a company standard similar to the one that they had taken from the foraging company. Each standard flew the black banner with the red flaming sword device of the Horseman of War, and above the gilded skull of the standard burned a ghastly corpselight.

Olmer, the captain of the Bishop's guard, gaped at their numbers. "Lady of Mercy, there are that many of them?"

"Oh, good lord, NO!" Kitsune murmured. "That's just the advance guard. They probably have companies off foraging and guarding their camp."

Zohar muttered something about 'ShowTime!', and clambered down the stairs to the silo. He lit a brazier full of already prepared combustibles, and started to read from a scroll. The entire silo glowed for a moment, and then returned to normal. He returned to the battlement walk with the air of someone who has just pulled something off. "Now, all we do is wait for the proper time."

J'Mira was readying her bow and a pot of burning pitch, when she stopped and cocked her head. "Hold on. Everyone silent! Listen! Do you hear something?"

Everyone became very still and listened.

Then they heard it, far over head. The sound of leathery wings.

Foxglove twiddled her hands a bit, and sent a small ball of light up into the air. When it reached its peak, it burst into near-daylight brightness. There in mid-air there were five lion-like beasts with large bat wings, scorpion tails, and brutish human-like faces. On their backs were tall, lanky, dark cloaked figures carrying sinister looking weapons.

One of the soldiers croaked, "Manticores!"

J'Mira added sourly, "Worse - Dyrghul!"

One of the Dyrghuls swiped at the ball of light with a weapon that looked with a crescent moon on the end of a pole, snuffing it. But Foxglove had seen that coming. In rapid succession, she whipped off one spell after another, that took the forms of lambent birds. The birds flew up and struck the Manticores, outlining them against the moonless sky in foxfire.

Kitsune shouted out, "Arrows! Before they land and invite the Army in! Don't waste your arrows on the Dyrghuls - aim for the manticores' wings!"

The regular soldiers didn't have much luck aiming at targets that high up, but the country boys, who were used to bringing in game birds on the wing, did better. Several of the manticores screamed out as arrows tore the thin skins on their wings. Zohar waited until he was sure that one of the arrows was well lodged in one of the manticores' wings. Then he picked up a spear said a few magic phrases over it, and pointed it at the flying monstrosity. The arrow stuck in the wing grew to the size of a long spear. Besides hurting the manticore even more, it made using that wing to fly impossible. The manticore and its unliving rider tumbled out of the sky, and into the Town Square.

The fall killed the manticore, but the Dyrghul didn't have any such worries. It picked itself up as if it had only tripped, and found it's wicked looking polearm. Before it could call out to the Army outside, two of the town watchmen were on it. They died quickly for their courage. The Dyrghul didn't fare quite as well when Hargrim came barreling into him, hammer a-glow with lightning. The Dwarf stopped the Dyrghul, but the damned thing wouldn't drop!

"Dammit, why don't you die?" Hargrim grunted with exasperation. When he hit something with his hammer, it was supposed to go *squish!*!

"You first, gopherspawn." The Dyrghul abruptly changed tactics, and turned the blow of its polearm into a sweep that knocked Hargrim off his feet.

"Now, this is more like it!" The Dyrghul brought it's polearm down on Hargrim's unprotected head-

-Only to shatter on Justin's magic shield. Kitsune came up from behind (well, she is a ninja, after all!), grabbed the hem of the 'cloak' and leapt over the Dyrghul's head, bringing the cloak with it. Where the cloak clung to the body, Theocles sprinkled it with Holy Water, dissolving the connection. Justin, seeing what Kitsune was up to, grabbed the cloak and helped her rip it off the body. It was like pulling the skin off a snake, but the cloak did come off. Once it was off its host, the Dyrghul-cloak tried to wrap itself around Justin, but he repulsed it (fair is fair, it repulsed him as well!). As the cloak fluttered on the ground, trying to gather itself to take off, Justin impaled it into the ground with his sword.

Theocles roared, "Someone get me some salt, I'm going to Bless this Damned thing, and we've got to bury it as soon as possible!"

"Father, I think that we have bigger worries on our minds just at the moment!" Avon shouted from the battlements. Looking up, they could see the flying manticores by the light of the foxfire, as they gained a formation and started to maneuver. "Anyone want to bet that they're going to bypass the walls from above?"

"It doesn't matter!" Mornsong shouted from her brazier on the ground. "They tried exactly the wrong gambit!" With that, she threw some water on the coals of her brazier and said something in that weird language of hers.

At first, it was just a rustling in the branches, then a whisper, then a whistle, then a song, then a dirge, then a keen, and then a scream. The wind picked up speed and strength. The manticores just veered at first, losing the solidity of their formation. Then, as the wind gained power, they stopped moving and concentrated on staying aloft in the gathering gale. One by one, the manticores fell from the sky, taking their riders with them as they hit the ground.

"Enough of that." Avalyn blew a handful of dust on the embers, and the wind died down.

A ragged cheer rose up from the men on the battlements and on the ground. A few of them grew bold enough to jeer at the stolid legions in the dark. Then the drums started up again.

From the battlements, Avon called out, "Folks, I think they have something new up their sleeves!"

Out in the clearing, in the dark, you could see the lines of lights part. Two much larger lights appeared from out of the woods, and advanced through the column formed by the parted legions. The drums grew louder. Finally, the defenders could see it roll out of the gloom.

It was huge. It was at least as high as the walls of Flournoy, and half again as wide. Along the front was an immense studded roller. The main body of the construct was a huge idol of an obese demonic god. In it's wide leering mouth was half of a body, freshly stashed there. In each of its six arms, it crushed a human body. Real bodies, that moaned and twitched, not additional figures. A thicket of long, sharp, curving spikes surrounded the idol. On three of the spikes more bodies were impaled. On either side of the Juggernaut were lines of human captives, being driven by whips. The idol kneeled, and from between its legs, a huge phallus shaped battering ram swung back and forth obscenely.

That battering ram and the gates of Flournoy. You don't have to be a classically trained Freudian to see the imagery there.

Standing next to the battering ram, with several red-robed acolytes was an old friend. Avon recognized the stocky, bald, goateed and red-robed figure of the vampiric Anti-cleric. This Juggernaut was a much larger version of the smaller, though more elaborate, idol that they'd torched after they'd last met the vampiric trio. In his left hand, the Anti-cleric held up the severed head of Guirnir, which was laughing dementedly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I Don't Think They Want To Borrow A Cup of Sugar...

Pulling his eyes from the gruesome sight, Zohar hissed to Brugen, the captain of the town watch, "This is it! Pass it along, quiet now - all the riders ready their horses at the gate. Ready the wagon just behind the riders. All the fighters that don't have horses to the boats. Tell the Dwarf to be ready at the gate. Get Foxglove up here, NOW! Avon, I want you to go get Mornsong and Kitsune, and get them to the boats. Wait until Brugen here and J'Mira come with a special package, then shove off. Have Mornsong cover your exit with some fog. Head north toward Seth-Barrak. We'll meet you there, after we provide a distraction."

"But what about the people in the silo?"

"I don't have time to explain! They'll be taken care of! Go!"

The Bard went, but not happily. Foxglove hurried up, and said, "You Rang?"

"Okay, Foxy, this is it! I don't think that Warding is going to keep that monstrosity out for very long - they'll probably pull some variation on that 'slit the kid's throat and throw her on the salt' trick. I have something ready for them, but I don't want them paying attention to where they should be paying attention. So, I'm going to need a distraction for them. I want you to whistle up your 'Great Lord Mardos' illusion, and have him dare them to step over the line. When the first part of the trap springs, leave the illusion if you can, but haul your own ass down to your unicorn and get ready to leave. When the signal comes, wait for the Dwarf, and then ride out for all you're worth!"

"But, what about-"

"It's taken care of! Get ready!"

There are some people who simply shouldn't be put in charge, Foxglove thought to herself sourly. She pulled out her wand, and recalled the exact image that she'd created to fight the Dyrghul at Melhand Bend.

As she focused her attention, the Anti-Cleric threw Guirnir's head across the line of salt. It called out to its unholy master, weakening the warding. The Anti-Cleric leaped off the Juggernaut and grabbed the first captive at hand. He dragged the poor woman up onto the Juggernaut and impaled her on one of the spikes. Savoring her screams for a moment, he pulled her off again, and paused to drink of the blood spurting from her stomach. Then he threw her on top of the salt, effectively breaking the ward.

"Well, Zohar," Foxglove muttered, "you called that one well enough." She concentrated.

A star seemed to fall from the sky, and land before the gates of Flournoy. The star sprouted six glorious wings, and grew into the golden warrior angel. This time, she made him as tall as the walls of Flournoy, as to be at least an equal to the Juggernaut. "Cease, foul things of Unnature!" 'Great Lord Mardos' bellowed. Foxglove tried to think what Theocles, who was readying his mount below, would say in a situation like this. She decided to make it as pompous as possible and hope for the best. In short, she had 'Great Lord Mardos' tell the assembled Army of Darkness that they'd better go back to their mommies, or he'd spank their collective behinds.

The Anti-Cleric returned that Mardos was a sarsaparilla-swilling momma's boy, and that they had a giant industrial sized drum of whoop-ass that they were gonna open on him. The Juggernaut creaked forward, in defiance of Mardos' warnings.

Zohar whispered to Foxglove, "Move 'Mardos' forward, until I tell you to stop." Though the illusion was weightless, Foxglove added an illusion of tremors as 'Great Lord Mardos' strode forward, one thundering step at a time. Sarsaparilla-swilling momma's boy, indeed!

Then, a few paces out, Zohar said, "There! Stop there! Good! Now, anchor the illusion, and get to your unicorn. Wait there for the signal."

"What's the signal?"

"Believe me, you'll know it when it happens!" Foxglove posed 'Mardos' in a combat stance, and left him there. She slid down the ladder and was at Horndog's side in a trice.

The Juggernaut rolled forward, with the Anti-Cleric warming up something truly vile for 'Lord Mardos'.

Waiting for just the right moment, Zohar took the 'strings' of the illusion, and readied his other spell. For maximum effect, they had to happen at just the right moment. He hadn't been expecting a Juggernaut, but if the timing was right, his trick should be all the more effective for the hellwagon's power. "J'Mira?" he asked.

"I'm here and ready. I know what to do, Zohar."

"After the second arrow, go help Brugen get it to the boats."

"I know what I'm supposed to do - I just don't know what it's supposed to accomplish."

Then, finally, the Juggernaut was in the right place. In a single move, Zohar tugged at the 'strings' on 'Mardos'. The Warrior Angel's hand flew up. The silo in the Town Square seemed to disappear. The Juggernaut jerked and pitched over on its side, spilling the Anti-cleric and his acolytes onto the ground. Jutting up from the ground was a huge obelisk-like silo.

One of the soldiers watching this from over the gate gasped, and said, "What has that damn fool sorcerer done? The Silo! The Food! The Women! The Children!"

Justin grabbed the soldier by his collar and snarled, "I'm not sure, but let the sorcerer play all of his cards." Then he turned his eyes upwards. "Don't make a fool out of me, Zohar."

From the ground, the Anti-cleric squealed pure hatred and called out to someone in the Army. One by one, strange figures in odd robes, carrying bizarre instruments came from out behind the legions and surrounded the obelisk.

"-eleven, twelve, aaannd –thirteen!" Zohar counted as the darkling mages surrounded his construct, paying wary heed to 'Lord Mardos'. They were rattled enough at the toppling of the Juggernaut not to think of checking to see if it was an illusion. As he'd hoped. "That's as many as we're gonna catch, J'Mira - Do It!"

J'Mira put one arrow into the firepot as she knocked another one in her dark elf bow. Using the 'Eye of Thoth' painted at the very top of the obelisk as a target, she let the unlit arrow fly. The arrow flew directly into the 'eye'. A moment later, there were two loud *thumps!*, and double doors on all four sides of the silo burst open, letting out billowing clouds of whiteness.

The second that she heard the 'thump', J'Mira grabbed her second arrow from the firepot and let it fly into the clouds of whiteness. The instant the arrow went into the cloud, the cloud gave a sharp roar, and there was a rattling explosion and a ball of fire erupted out of the silo, enveloping all the darkling mages.

"I think that that's our signal." Justin said dryly to Hargrim. "On your horses! Open the Gate! Hargrim, your Hammer!"

Zohar gave J'Mira a lift on his carpet to the town square, where Brugen was waiting. Leaving her to her task, he sped to the gate. As the soldiers were getting the gate open, Hargrim was braced right behind them, winding up his hammer for one of his thunderbolt-throws. When the doors were open enough, Zohar pointed in a direction and shouted, "THAT WAY!"

Hargrim let loose with his hammer, carving a pathway through one flank of the dark legions. Zohar followed through with two trails of fire directly in the hammer's wake. When the hammer returned, Zohar shouted "RIDE!"

As the assembled riders lit out as quickly as they could, Zohar conjured up a small flame on the tip of his new staff. "Have fun," he told it, and it skipped merrily off his staff to its appointed errand. Then Zohar flew off after the riders. He was last, but he was well past the other side of the Army by the time that the darklings recovered their collective wits enough to realize that their prey had escaped them and started to follow them.

CHAPTER 22

Nothing Up My Sleeve- PRESTO!

By the time Zohar caught up with them, the horses were beginning to tire. Justin called out to the sorcerer on his carpet, "Zohar, that damn covered wagon that you insisted on is slowing us down!"

"Well, then - we'd best be rid of it, hadn't we? Driver! Unhitch the horses, and climb onto them! Leave the wagon for the riders behind us!"

The driver did as he was told. As the wagon began to fall behind, Zohar threw a handful of dust into the front and said something. There was a flash of purple light, and the wagon started thrashing about as it began to slow down to a stop.

"What was in there, anyway?" Hargrim asked from astride his warfrog.

"Oh, just a petrified cockatrice that I got off of Doctor Xenophones. The dust was a counterspell to revivify it. It should be really pissed, and it's gonna take it out on the first thing that it comes across. Another league, and I think you guys can slow down to a trot."

When the horses slowed down, Foxglove rode up next to Zohar. Very glad that neither of her 'Fox Sisters' were there, Foxglove asked through clenched teeth, "Okay, good trick, Doc. Now, what was all that? What did you DO to that silo? What happened to the women and children?"

"Not to mention all that food that we went to all that trouble gathering?" Hargrim snarled.

Zohar sighed. "Very well. The obelisk that appeared outside the gates wasn't' the silo that we piled all the civilians and the food into. I had that second silo built inside the first silo, before we loaded it up. The second silo was empty, except that it was rigged with a large pile of loose flour at the very bottom, and two large bags of sawdust at the very top. Then I shrank the second silo while it was still inside the first one. I took the shrunk silo out, and buried it in the ground at a strategic area. Then, just now, when the Juggernaut pulled into the right position - thanks to where you moved 'Lord Mardos' - I simultaneously completed the spell to shrink the first silo, and dropped the spell keeping the second silo shrunken.

"I had J'Mira shoot an arrow through a hole at the top, to hit a trigger that dropped the bags of sawdust into the pile of flour. That created those white clouds that were everywhere. Then J'Mira shot a fire arrow into the flour-cloud, setting off that explosion."

"OH, COME ON NOW!" Theocles exploded, "Flour isn't explosive!"

"It is when it's flying loose in the air. It's called a 'Fuel-Air Explosive'. It's something like what Timothy McVeigh used in Oklahoma City."

"Hold on-" Foxglove interrupted, "-that's OUR world technology. How could you be sure that it would work here?"

"Simple! I asked the millers! Flour mills have had that problem since Roman times; we only figured out how it was done in the last hundred or so years. I threw in the sawdust to make the explosion hotter, since it burns more slowly."

"Hmmm..." Foxglove mused. "Why all the rigmarole with the fire arrow? Why not just detonate it with a fireball?"

"Foxglove, the whole shebang with the silo was basically a mage-trap for the darkling wizards. Like the Dyrghuls, they're very hard to hurt - IF they know what to expect. They can prepare charms against either magical or mundane threats. _But_ if they're expecting something magical, and they get hit by something purely mundane, then they caught flat-footed. And it had to be completely mundane, or their magical counter-measures would have protected them, at least a little. The only thing magical about that was the shrinking bit - and that didn't affect the nature of the explosion in the least. Tipping over that Juggernaut was an unexpected bonus."

"Zohar, before you break your arm patting yourself on the back," Justin added, "WHERE is the real silo?"

"As I said, I shrunk it. Moving that many people and that much food the normal way would be too slow and too obvious. The Army would have ripped them apart. I had J'Mira and Brugen load it onto one of the boats that all the soldiers who couldn't ride used to escape. Why do you think I arranged that big splashy 'escape'? The Army is either busy chasing after us, or trying to loot Flournoy."

"Pity that we had to let them have Flournoy," Lord Wengrel mused.

"We didn't. I had Brugen and his watchmen rig up the main buildings and the worst firetraps in Flournoy with smaller versions of my 'Fuel-Air' bomb. Just before we left, I sent a small fire elemental to light the candles that set them off. They should have gone off about, oh, five minutes ago. A good chunk of their infantry is probably frying even as we speak."

Justin had an idea. "Foxglove, you've seen their army, how many cavalry units do they have?"

Foxglove chewed on it for a while. "Hard to say. Their Army is cut along the same lines as the classic Roman legions. But while the Roman infantry was the backbone of the Legions, they did have cavalry. They just didn't rely on it very much. And then, there's the nature of their recruits - keeping decent horseflesh in that mob would be a real grizzly! Anything good enough to ride would be good enough to eat! Especially after our 'scorched earth' tactics. I'd be amazed if they had a hundred mounted riders."

"And no general would be stupid enough to commit all of his cavalry to a single pursuit. I'd say he'd send at most half of them - probably only a third, expecting only to catch a few stragglers. After all, we're in retreat - or so they think! And after that cockatrice gets through with them, they'll be even fewer... Henrak, you know this regions, where would be a good place for an ambush?"

*****

Forty wights rode into Deeping Hollow. The Column of cavalry was sore, tired, and at half strength after dealing with that never sufficiently damned cockatrice. They were forty wights strong going into Deeping Hollow. They were four riders weaker after the thunder hammer split their unit in two. The human cavalry charge caught them while they were unprepared, and forced one flank back into a picket line, while the sorcerer harried the other flank with balefire. The Captain, then his lieutenant, then the 1^st Sergeant and then the 2^nd Sergeant fell to well placed arrows from above. Then there was another charge, forcing them into a bog. The sorcerer didn't bother with fire - he just fried them all with a single bolt of lightning. Forty wights rode into Deeping Hollow - not a single one of them rode out.

*****

"Not a bad night's work," Zohar sighed once they were back together. "Surmising that they had seven Dyrghuls to begin with, their 'secret police' is down by almost a third; A good chunk of their sorcerous ability is either dead or seriously injured - damn near the same thing in that crowd; Their big terror weapon, the Juggernaut is down-"

"Down, but not out, Zohar! I'll bet that they have that thing up and chewing up people before the sundown!" Theocles objected.

"Very well, then, seriously discredited in the eyes of their Rank and File. Their Air Support is gone - I can't imagine those manticores getting up any time soon, after those falls."

"The problem with taking out their air cover, Doc, is that it can be quickly replaced from the Dark Tower. I'll bet that the Thaumaturge is sending out whatever he's going to replace them with, right now!" Foxglove countered.

"Even so, they're deep in hostile territory without any food, their advance scouts go out looking over their own shoulders, thanks to you ladies, and we just negated a large portion of their cavalry! I'd say that the average darkling is getting worried right about now."

"Or so pissed that they'll rip up and befoul everything that they come across," Theocles pointed out. "No, Zohar, I'd say that the real victory of this night is that we've given them something to really fear." He looked wryly at Foxglove. "The 'Great Lord Mardos'. I think when we get to Seth-Barrak, that we should 'arrange' two more encounters between the Juggernaut and the 'Great Lord Mardos'. If we can stage manage a complete defeat for the Juggernaut at 'Lord Mardos' hand', then the War Horseman might pull out, and the Thaumaturge will send in more subtle agents to ferret out any secrets about the 'Great Lord'. That will buy us some time for real Imperial troops to arrive, and give our Reconnaissance Mission an opening into the Outlands. But for now, we'd best join up with the boats. Did you give them orders to go straight to Seth-Barrak, or did you arrange a rendezvous point?"

"There's a town called Plandury where they might stop and we can catch up with them. Henrak?"

As the riders turned in the general direction of Plandury, Foxglove approached Zohar. "Good job, Zohar. Well planned, decently executed. But you might want to be just a wee bit more discrete with all of that."

"Why?" Zohar smirked.

"Something that I figured out a while ago - the GM in this game isn't giving out extra Experience Points for being clever. If anything, I think that us being clever is pissing him off."

Since 10/09/02