Alderheart Strikes Back
6. March 2020
We easily caught up with the rest of the Alderheart forces following Crispin’s augury. The trail through the forest was littered with stolen goods, dropped by the bandits as they hurried away with their spoils.
“Come on, we can get ahead,” Olive said and increased her pace.
“What about Crispin?”
Crispin huffed and puffed and just about maintained his current speed.
“What about him?” Olive shrugged and pressed on.
I liked her enthusiasm so we raced further and further ahead of Crispin and the rest of the militia.
It wasn’t long before we came upon the bandit camp. Olive and I left the path and headed up a hill overlooking it. From the hill we saw a scrappy campsite made of tents and carts and surrounded by sheer cliffs and a wooden palisade.
I stood to get a better look, and an improvised guard-tower, directly level with us, came into view. I was face to face with a Mapach bandit standing watch. His mouth dropped open. His paws shook as he reached for a warning bell hanging beside him.
“They’ve seen us, Olive!” I cried and grabbed my axe.
The Mapach rang his bell and stirred the camp. The time for stealth was over.
I jumped from the clifftop onto the tower and, in a ferocious rage, cut the bandit clean in half. He choked out one last warning before the top of him tumbled from the tower and into the center of the camp. It landed beside his comrades.
The other Mapach scurried away and fled into the tents but a few of them equipped with shortbows fired back at us.
Olive jumped onto the platform to join me and sent a rock flying from her sling directly into the side of another bandit’s head.
“Nice shot,” I said.
“Not half as good as yours, Plume,” quipped Olive as she gestured to the first Mapach remains. Olive’s jokes were truly inspirational.
The moment was slightly ruined by a return salvo from the bandit below us who managed to hit Olive with a rock from his own sling.
“How do you like it, huh?” the bandit screeched.
While the bandits reloaded, I dived from the platform and glided over the campfire. I cut apart another bandit as I landed and charged onward to the largest tent in the encampment.
Olive stayed on top of the guard tower and let loose with her sling. She dipped her paw into the spilt blood on the tower and drew war paint streaks across her face.
At that point the rest of the Alderheart forces arrived. The Perch Guard and militia alike surged forward and soon the whole encampment was engulfed in battle. From the chaos, a familiar figure emerged.
“Plume, I’ve got your back,” shouted Crispin. He dropped to one knee and fired his crossbow at a Mapach bandit emerging from a tent behind me. The bolt ripped through the unarmoured bandit and his insides splattered against the tent doorway.
Crispin’s eyes widened with regret. “Oh no.”
In the meantime, I reached the main tent and threw open the flap. I was met with more than I bargained for. Inside was a battle-scared Jerbeen thief, a snarling wolf on a leash, and a tall Vulpin who seemed very familiar.
“You again?” The Vulpin captain turned to me and snarled. “It looks like we’re going to get that proper fight. You’ll have the honour of witnessing my deadly grace before you die.”
Through the clouds of my rage I recognised her.
“Fray Merridan,” I spat. “Let’s do this.”
The tent became a blur of blades but my attention was elsewhere. I shielded my eyes with one hand and reached into the Bag of Holding with the other. I could feel the slender shape of the bottle and, without hesitation, I pulled it out.
The red liquid and the tiny green stopper: the Potion of Firebreath. Crispin’s words floated through my mind. Spicy.
I pulled the cork, downed the liquid, and immediately felt the effect. I turned to Fray and exhaled. A fireball rumbled up from my stomach and flame coursed from my beak, crossing the gap between us in an instant. Fray yelped as she was knocked backward and onto the ground.
Spicy indeed.
Outside, Olive and Crispin were keeping on top of the rest of the bandits. Olive threw stone after stone from her sling and played short bursts of music to heal our wounds. Crispin held the center ground and alternated between swinging vicious blows with his mace and cowering behind his pot.
Yet more Mapach bandits emerged from the latrines and a Jerbeen dropped from the tree branches above to join the melee.
A sudden screech heralded the arrival of the heroic Strig Knight who slew a bandit near Crispin before striding on to where the fight was most fierce.
In the tent, my axe flashed back and forth as I tried to defend myself, but the odds were against me. Fray Merridan was prepared for my next breath of fire and neatly sidestepped the worst of the flames.
As the wolf snapped at me, I saw Fray slice open the back of the tent. She flourished her sword, gave a curt bow, and darted through the makeshift exit.
“No you don’t,” I muttered.
I swung my axe wildly at the remaining bandits in the tent to give myself a chance to disengage. Then I ran across the campsite, parallel to the path I presumed Fray to have taken. I rounded the corner of another tent hoping to intercept her. I saw the telltale orange fur. I exhaled.
The last breath of fire erupted from me and sailed through the air. It collided with Fray Merridan as she crossed my path. For a brief moment I saw the surprise on her face before the fireball detonated and the figure was gone.
All that remained of Fray Merridan was a shiny object glowing on the scorched earth. I grabbed it with a crow of delight.
Finally, some of the bandits had begun to break and flee. The hardy Jerbeen thief from the tent clicked her boots together and raced out of the campsite and into the darkness.
Crispin was fighting for his life by the campfire and I saw Olive had even left the high ground of the guard tower to join him. Fray’s pet wolf fought viciously with tooth and claw, weaving in between its allies like they were part of its pack.
Before I could intervene, a Mapach snuck up behind Crispin and knocked him to the ground. Olive clashed blades with another Jerbeen and sang a few notes of a familiar tune which roused Crispin.
Crispin got to his feet and did his best to help Olive fight the Jerbeen.
“Are you scared?” he boomed, thaumaturgical magic amplifying his voice.
“No,” said the Jerbeen and knocked Crispin out for the second time.
At last I made it back across the battlefield to rejoin my friends. I slew the wolf first, catching it off-guard as it prepared to disembowel Crispin.
Olive killed the Jerbeen with a swift flick of her rapier. As the corpse fell to the ground she asked if it was scared. The Jerbeen was in no position to reply.
I killed another Mapach that was threatening Crispin. Olive did the same on the other side of him as we moved closer together to protect our friend. Olive kept asking the same question to the dead bodies.
“Are you scared?”
I don’t think she realised they were now beyond fear.
We carved out a small area of safety amid the chaos. I glanced down at Crispin who was twitching and coughing up blood. He didn’t look good. Why did every battle end up like this?
Fortunately, with Fray dead and the sheer numbers of the Alderheart forces, the tide had truly turned and the remaining order among the bandits began to disintegrate. Those that could fled with whatever they could carry and disappeared into the woods, many heading East toward the Crest Mountains. The day was won but at a heavy cost.
We stabilised Crispin and hefted his unconscious form onto a nearby cart so we could wheel him back to the city. The campsite was already full of scavengers but we managed to get our hands on a couple of things of value.
For our group, I claimed Fray’s shortsword which looked well-made and had a beautiful rose insignia on the pommel. The shiny object I had retrieved from Fray’s ashes turned out to be a Broach of Shielding. We also spotted a bronze ring, studded with rubies, which we thought we could put to better use than the bandits.
We gathered any other obviously stolen goods that we could and loaded them onto the cart. Then we, and the rest of the Alderheart forces, began the return journey to the city with the dead and wounded at the front of the group. There had been heavy losses but that night we felt like heroes.