Undying Blood - Beta - Chapter 09 - (Patreon)

“Listen boy, I don’t have time for this.  If you won’t go away, I’m going to beat you senseless.”

The other guard that was blocking his path snickered and Francis tried to not get upset.

They’re just doing their jobs… even if they are acting like asses.

He could see that both of them were in chain armor from head to toe and that their swords had a metal scabbard with decorations.  

“What if I said I’m okay with being beaten if that means someone will hear what I claim to know.  Surely if word reached your superiors that someone had knowledge about the enemy troops, found out you both turned me away and then that knowledge could have saved lives, which of us would suffer more?”

It took a little effort not to flinch as the older man moved to stand across from him.

The stench of sweat was almost overwhelming but it made sense if the man stood guard in his outfit everyday.  

“Dirk, I don’t think he’s going to back down,” chuckled the other guard. “What you goin to do?”

Francis studied the weathered face of a man he knew had to be at least forty years old.  Lots of small white scars were hidden amongst the salt and pepper stubble but sharp, unyielding blue eyes stayed locked on him.  

“You’re seriously willing to let me beat you because you believe what you know is that important?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you’re not willing to tell me?”

Shaking his head, Francis shrugged.  

“Either I’m right and we both get rewarded as I’ll mention you let me through, or I’ll be wrong and I’ll get killed at best and your name won't come up.”

“Sounds like a ninth son to me,” the other guard stated. “Who else would be willing to get beat like that?”

“Shut it Peter,” Dirk snapped as his eyes narrowed.  “Tell you what boy.  I’ll walk you there myself.  If what you say has merit, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded. If not… well let’s just say you’re right… death would be better.”

“Understood.”

A groan escaped the older man as he turned, and motioned for Francis to join him.

“Follow me. Leave the sword.  No weapons from this point on.”

Unbelting his weapon, he handed it to Peter who chuckled as Dirk moved away.

“You better hurry boy, he won’t wait.”

***

For a good five minutes they walked in silence, moving along a path with torches that flickered in the wind.  Darkness felt oppressive and Francis wondered how many men and women were in this section of the camp.  Tents were larger and nicer and there were a few with guards standing outside near a fire.

Eventually the guard led him toward a tent that was about twenty feet long and ten feet wide.

“Don’t talk till until you're told to. Understand?”

Francis nodded, not saying a word and noticed a slight smirk from Dirk’s lips at his silence.

“Maybe you’re not a fool,” the older man muttered as he motioned to the flap where two guards were standing, watching them.

“What brings you Dirk? Find some lost puppy that belongs to a noble or something?”

“I wish.  No, this one claims to have information about the enemy and is willing to get beaten to death to deliver it.  Figure I might as well let the captain decide.”

Francis watched as both men leaned around Dirk and gave him a better glance.

“Someone with balls or a death wish?”

“Beats me. Either way, if I turned him away and he did know something… well it would be my balls in a vice.”

Both men chuckled and nodded.

“Stay here, give me a moment.”

Dirk turned and glanced at Francis.

Smiling like an idiot, he remained quiet, watching the older man roll his eyes as he sighed.

“Tell me Douglas, how much longer till I can earn a cush guard job like this again?”

The one who stayed behind chuckled once, his right hand never coming off the pommel of his sword.

“I think we both know you’re not going to get that for a long time.  Vella isn’t happy with you at all.”

Each of them laughed once at something Francis knew had to be an inside joke, doing his best to remember it all as he had no doubt it would all be useful at some point.

The flap opened and light spilled out, almost blindingly bright.

“Hurry the hell up and get him in here!”

Moving faster than Francis had anticipated, Dirk took two steps back, put a hand against his back and thrust him into the open pathway to the tent.

Silence was his only greeting as his eyes adjusted and the smell of ale and sweat reached his nose.

Blinking a few times, he finally saw there were seven men and one woman standing around a large table that took up most of the tent, detailing the camp, incline of the battle field, the forest and the enemy on the other side.

“Does he speak?” the woman asked as she looked past Francis and behind him.

“Yes, Ma’am. I informed him not to until told otherwise. It appears he is smarter than most.”

A few grunts and a couple of smirks formed on some of the men standing around the table, bright red wolf heads marking the white cloth that covered their chest armor.

“Speak boy before I box your ears in. I don’t have time for shit that wastes the night.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know where a caster will be tomorrow and that it will use some ability to make our front line men flee in terror.”

Laughter came from most of the men around the table after he spoke and Francis felt a hand grab his collar, starting to pull him back.

“Wait!”

Everyone went silent and the force that had yanked him backwards almost caused him to fall but Dirk’s grip on his clothes never lessened.

Slowly the woman moved toward him and Francis got a good look at her, realizing that she was the Vella they had been talking about.  She wore plate armor but it was custom made, fitting perfectly together and had two lion heads on the silver chest piece and he noticed one of the shoulders.  On both sides of her hip were two swords that he immediately knew were much nicer than any he had seen, red gems adorning the pommels.  

Everything about her screamed power and as she drew close, it was obvious she was probably only four inches from being seven feet tall.

“What kind of monster?” she asked, leaning down and getting in Francis’s face.

Doing his best to talk while being bent backwards, he didn’t wait.

“A black and purple one… I’m not sure if its a lizard of some kind but it carries a staff with a sphere and –”

“Stop!” she barked, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him free of Dirk’s grip.

One second he was leaning backward, the next he was dangling from her fist, held in an even worse position as his clothes forced his shoulders up and he felt like choking on the collar.

“Who told you this boy? How do you know of such a creature? Why would you–”

“Captain… he can’t breathe.”

Francis felt the world getting darker and barely had understood those words before the room began to spin.

Pain shot through his feet as he hit the trampled dirt, dropped and not able to bend to avoid it.

Coughing and taking deep breaths, he watched as the woman spun and moved to the table, leaning against it and gazing across the markings on the map.

“Someone hold him. I want to ask some questions when he can breathe. No one and I mean no one leaves this tent. Even you Dirk.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Before any of the others could move, Francis felt his escort grab and yank him off the ground, standing him on his feet and holding on the back of his shirt once more.

The captain breathed a few times, each one sounding like she was trying to blow away the enemy on the other side of the map from how hard she let it out.

“What is your name?”

“Francis. Francis Mudaburg.  Ninth son to Barron Mudaburg.”

Laughter erupted and he watched as Vella looked up from the map. All the men went silent and he wondered what kind of gaze she was giving them.

Why do I feel like I fucked up coming in here… this woman is bat shit scary…

“So tell me Francis… How is it someone with no possible way of knowing about that creature, let alone that it's a caster or the ability it uses, does?”

Waiting to see if she was going to turn to hear what he said, Francis realized she wasn’t.

“It might sound stupid–”
“Trust me boy, I’ve heard stupid. I know stupid. That man behind you is stupid. Just spit it out.”

Clearing his throat and ignoring the grip that tightened on the back of his collar, he lied.

“Sometimes I have dreams… they come true but being the ninth son means nothing and people don’t want to trust me.  However I had one now for three nights. I could point to you on the map where the creature will be. I can tell you the time it will appear and when its attacks will begin. When I dream it three times, it always happens.”

Some murmurs and grunts came and yet no one moved.

Vella’s fingers gripped the thick wooden table and Francis heard some cracking of the wood.

“Dirk, tell one of those fools outside the tent to bring me Nehemiah. Make sure they understand I want him now and I don’t care if he sleeps naked. I want him now!”

The hand left his collar and was at the flap, muted conversation taking place behind him.

Vella turned and stared at him, trying to read how he was acting.

“You feel you’re certain about this knowledge?”

“I’d bet my life and the life of my eighth brother on it Ma’am.”

“Does he know that?” she asked with a grunt, a small upward turn of a smile on her lips for a moment. “Now then, while I wait on that fool to get here, tell me where this caster is going to be tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to stand here and describe or can I move to the spot on the table and mark where it will be in the woods?”

Some murmurs rose again and Francis saw Vella’s left eyebrow raise.

“In the woods…”

She nodded and motioned to him to move closer to the map.

Looking at it from afar didn’t carry the same weight. There on the table were so many markers, each one he knew meant something different.  

Holy shit… we’re seriously just fodder… all the good troops and what must be calvary are way behind us… it’s going to be a meat grinder we’re put in before they deploy the real fighters.

Sensing the mood change as he stood there, Francis moved to the side of the table where his group would be.

In his mind he played out the battle, feeling like he could envision seeing himself, down on the lines, fighting hordes of these beasts until the moment came and he ran through the woods.

“May I touch it? I’m trying to work the distance in my head.”

She nodded and waved her hand as he stood near it, studying the treeline.

Closing his eyes he envisioned the steps he had taken twice now.  The direction he had gone. 

“It should be about here,” he pointed a finger at. “It will start to use its power around the time the seventh line attacks. That is when myself and my brother should be in the thick of things.”

“And that’s why you dreamed this?”

Shaking his head, and finally shrugging, Francis lied again.

“I’m not certain. Sometimes it’s random things, usually it happens when it involves me or him.  All I know is there will be a lizard mage in the woods.  I could lead a group of better skilled fighters there if you desired.”

Francis watched as she nodded at one of the men who picked up a purple token and set it in the midst of the table that represented the forest.

“That will happen. If you’re right, tell me what you hope to gain by sharing this knowledge.”

Without waiting, Francis turned and smiled.

“I want my brother and I back in these lines here,” he replied, pointing at the section he knew would most likely survive. “I’d also like real training, learning how to fight for both of us.”

He watched as she slowly bobbed her head.

“If tomorrow pans out, I can make that happen. All we can do now is wait for Nehemiah.”

As if the gods themselves heard her request, the tent flap flew opened and bald headed, wrinkled old man in a shirt that barely covered his privates was shoved into the tent.

“I swear I’m going to cut her balls off!” exclaimed the newest guest.

“I doubt that,” Vella replied. “Mine are too big. Now then Nehemiah, I got a job for you.”