V2Ch42-Hostage

Kurt tried to bury the strange, cold emotion he felt. He pushed it deep beneath the thick glass that seemed to cover over almost all his emotions.

Somehow, it didn’t work.

He had seen James Robard again, the reunion he’d wished for these last weeks, much earlier than he had any right or reason to expect. The enemy he’d wanted so badly to destroy.

Now that idea seemed like a childish fantasy. When James descended on the battlefield—what was supposed to be the field of slaughter—he caught two dozen wolves and most of the human camp members in his illusion. The pace of the conflict changed in an instant.

Kurt was with the Wolf King, watching the battle from a distance, and he saw everything.

Robard walked among the wolves, which ran to and fro, ignoring him. He casually slashed them open as he passed, sword in one hand and dagger in the other. It reminded Kurt of one of those European works of art from the time of the Black Death, when the Grim Reaper was depicted hovering over the soon to die.

James made such quick work of the wolves and Ghouls around him that the Wolf King actually broached the subject of a tactical withdrawal first.

Kurt was too afraid. It was difficult for him to act at all.

His second encounter with Robard reminded him of his first encounters with Master Roscuro and the Wolf King. A cold dread brewed in his stomach.

He felt some of that tension release when he and the Wolf King finally ordered their respective forces to retreat. Now that they were fleeing, much of the nervousness returned. Would Robard and the reinforcements he’d brought pursue them?

So far, the combined army hadn’t lost too many of their forces. Two dozen wolves, almost all on the younger and weaker side. A handful of Ghouls, including the three they had created from members of the Rodriguez camp. Things could get so much worse…

I sense you are returning to the center of the marsh in some haste, Kurt, Roscuro transmitted into his mind. I can only assume that you were repelled by unexpectedly strong foes.

Kurt nodded, though he had no way of actually answering Roscuro back, since they weren’t in person. The Master’s telepathy was a one-way communication channel.

If the enemy is that formidable, Roscuro continued, you shouldn’t let our forces take the brunt of their destruction. Kurt’s eyes widened. He knew what the Master must be getting at. If you can do it, find a way to leave the wolves to fight them on their own. I sense that our numbers are diminished, and I believe any leader worth his salt would try to take this opportunity to destroy us completely. It’s what I would do.

Kurt kept moving numbly forward, preparing himself for what he knew he would be asked to do next. In one way or another, Roscuro was about to order him to abandon their allies.

If the enemy give chase, they will be forced to leave their wounded and dead at the site of your battle. You are to go and retrieve as many of the wounded and the dead as you can. If we’re to stand a chance against this enemy, we have to rebuild. Hopefully the wolf pack and the enemy wear each other down. Roscuro paused in his transmission, as if deep in thought.

You will understand how strategically important this moment is. If you allow the force with you to be destroyed, all I will have left to defend me are mindless, Skill-less Zombies. With my physical weakness, if you fail in your mission, it’s most likely that we will be completely annihilated. I entrust you with the preservation of our kind.

Kurt wanted to kneel and bow his head, wanted to show gratitude in some way for his Master’s trust. But any such gesture would be wasted, since they weren’t in the same place.

Still, Kurt walked a ways with his head down. I won’t let you down, he thought. The Ghouls will survive to protect you. Then he prepared for his conversation with the Wolf King. He would need some explanation for why the Ghouls were separating from the wolfpack.

Finally, he approached.

The surviving members of the pack gave him low growls as he passed, but they parted for him. A testament to the effectiveness of Kurt’s diplomacy with the Wolf King thus far. He was trusted. An idea he would cling to through the coming discussion.

“Your Majesty.” Kurt bowed his head in a show of deference. He activated the same Skill he’d used in their previous conversations. Monstrous Affinity.

“What have you come for, Kurt?” the Wolf King growled.

Though his tone was as distrustful as ever, Kurt thought he’d made great progress by getting the Wolf King to use his name.

“The enemy are in pursuit. My master senses their movements. He believes we should make a stand against them, here if it pleases Your Majesty. If you will hold your ground here—” he gestured at the area they were approaching, which included a slightly elevated patch of earth—“I will lead my Ghouls in a flanking maneuver. We can surround the enemy and cut off their ability to retreat.”

“Hm. Where will you personally be in all this?” Even under the influence of Kurt’s Skill, the Wolf King seemed skeptical.

“I will be hidden in that bank of fog there, waiting for the enemy to approach,” Kurt replied, gesturing at a particularly dense patch of swamp haze.

“Hmmm,” the Wolf King rumbled, the sound coming from deep in one of his throats. Kurt felt that he was on the verge of rejecting the plan.

“I would be happy to leave a couple of Ghouls beside Your Majesty, as a gesture of good faith,” Kurt added hastily.

Sacrificing another couple of Ghouls, after they’d lost a half-dozen in the previous engagement, would be a hefty loss, but Kurt decided he would choose Ghouls who had greater Agility. Maybe they would have some chance at getting away if the Wolf King was engaged in combat.

“That does make your suggestion more palatable,” the Wolf King replied, his voice contemplative. “And you have not led us astray yet. But if the enemy engage us, and we do not see you come to our aid, know that we will use the two friends you leave behind as chew toys.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Kurt said, forcing a smile. “Since you are agreed, I will pick out a pair of suitable—”

“I will decide which Ghouls are suitable to remain with us,” the Wolf King interrupted. “Do not forget, Kurt. You may not have deceived us yet, but I have no reason to trust your master. Especially considering that he remains hidden in his mist somewhere even during this pivotal exchange.”

“I believe the Master will join us, too,” Kurt lied. “He said he would send reinforcements, but given how few reinforcements we’ve kept back from this fight, I believe he will also try to join us here.”

“That would be something to see, from one who has been so cautious,” the Wolf King said, voice skeptical. “But since you cannot promise that, let us direct our attention to which of your fellows will remain here as hostages.”

The Wolf King chose the Ghouls he wanted. No one essential, to Kurt’s carefully hidden relief. Though every Ghoul was important to the Master’s undead army in one way or another.

Terrence Rockington and Katrina Rowdie looked to Kurt for confirmation that they were actually to do as the Wolf King said and stay behind. Only when Kurt gave them the slight nod of affirmation did they turn back to the Wolf King and bow their heads in acknowledgement of his authority.

If Kurt still felt emotions the way he once had, there would be something heart wrenching about his fellow Ghouls’ willingness to stay behind and strictly obey orders. They were perfect soldiers. Sacrificing themselves, essentially, though he had not let them in on Master Roscuro’s plan. But even if he had, they would have behaved the same way.

The Ghouls were almost like eusocial insects, and Roscuro was the queen of their hive.

Kurt and the other Ghouls set off into the mist, leaving their fellows behind to almost certain doom. Either they would be killed fighting the enemy, or they would be destroyed in reprisal for Kurt and the other Ghouls’ desertion.

The Ghouls left in two separate groups, to give the illusion that they were moving into the mists on either side of the wolf pack, for the flanking maneuver Kurt had mentioned. In reality, he quietly explained the plan to the leader of the second group, and each body of Ghouls made a wide loop, headed in two separate gangs toward the site of the battle with the Rodriguez camp.

They moved through warm mist. It recognized them as the Master’s creatures, growing slightly thicker in their wake, and parting slightly to make their forward movement easier to navigate. Only natural in the Master’s territory.

Kurt felt substantially more secure with every step he took, now that he’d abandoned the wolf pack to their fate.

His group pushed further into the swamp, back toward the Rodriguez camp by the indirect route he had chosen.

As they drew close, Kurt derived an even stronger sense of relief from the fact that he could not sense James’s presence. Since he and his group had taken some time to get near the camp again, James must have already left in pursuit of the wolf pack.

Aggressive, just as Kurt remembered him.

Kurt drew within sight of the camp. The site was still a mess. Tents torn to shreds by wolves and Ghouls that blindly attacked whatever was around them in the depth of illusions. Wounded people laying on cots, with barely any additional people to help them in their recovery. There was some healing going on, including—by Sierra!

“I would’ve sworn she was dead,” Kurt thought aloud. He ignored the funny looks the other Ghouls gave him. It was atypical for them to discuss their human lives, but his experience with these people was relevant, darn it! “For him to leave her alive is much more foolish—or merciful?—than I would expect from Robard. I wonder how we might use this.”

The other Ghouls quietly groaned responses.

“Who cares?”

“When do we attack?”

“Who is the girl to us?”

“Robard has gone on to face the wolves, has he not?”

“He will surely die there. Even if the Wolf King could not face the whole group, he can easily eliminate one human, however strong.”

Kurt was not so confident, but he didn’t feel the need to justify himself or explain his reasoning to the others. They had been placed under his command, after all. The Dead Marsh was not a democracy.

“Make sure she’s one of the ones we capture alive,” he said simply. “We may be glad to have her as a hostage later. She’s had plenty of time to ingratiate herself with both Robard and this group. If it comes to a showdown, we’ll want all the bargaining power we can steal.”

There was a collective grunt of assent.

Kurt and his Ghouls huddled together, crouched in a waiting position, beneath a tree. He only needed the other group of Ghouls to get close too, and then they would descend on the camp as a group. Kill who they had to, and carry off as many as they could. That was the plan.

Suddenly, the Ghoul next to Kurt dropped hard. Kurt saw two daggers growing out of the top of Christopher Royce’s head before they vanished. There was only the Ghoul’s body, writhing on the ground, perforated brains visible.

“We’re under attack!” Kurt barked. “Step away from the tree until we can see what we’re dealing with.”

The other Ghouls turned and backed away from the tree a bit, and Kurt started to follow suit until he heard a sound from above him.

It was a long, high-pitched whistle, like a bird call.

Of course the attacker was up there, Kurt thought. He raised his arms above his head to shield it from any further projectiles. Any damage to his arms would be unimportant compared with a head injury like Royce had just suffered.

Then Kurt tilted his head back at a steep angle until he could see the figure attacking them from the tree. It was a dark-haired young man. He looked wiry but strong, and he had a dagger in each hand.

“You were in the camp earlier,” Kurt recalled aloud. He didn’t recall this young man doing anything especially impressive before, though he had been caught right in the middle of James’s illusion. “Brave of you to try and fight us alone.”

“Me? Try to fight? No, man, my hand slipped,” the dagger-wielding man said mockingly.

I guess you’ll be the first prisoner we take, Kurt thought.