V2Ch10-The Night Watch

Nikolai Rostov’s eyes focused once more.

He blinked twice and tried to clear the frustrated look from his face as quickly as possible. This had been one of his least productive conferences with Moloch since he became the god’s Chosen One. Moloch cared little for the happiness of his instruments, as only became more apparent with each contact.

I would have thought he would at least be interested in helping me recover the escaped prisoners. But no. If you want something done right…

“Where are we in the pursuit?” he asked brusquely.

Beside him on the cart, along with the statue of Moloch, sat Alice, the priestess he’d gotten to know the previous night. Happily, he could remember her name now.

She shifted nervously at his obvious displeasure. “I understand that we are drawing near the enemy’s campsite, as pinpointed by our spies, Prophet.”

He let out a gentle sigh. “What did I tell you before, Alice?”

“Yes, sir—yes, Nikolai. Niko. I’ll call you by your given name when we’re alone.” She contorted her face into a forced smile. The ugliness of the false gesture on her otherwise charming face brought a scowl to Rostov’s lips.

He looked away, not wanting her to realize she’d displeased him further. This relationship was awkward enough without her stumbling over apologies.

Sometimes I think operating a religious organization isn’t worth all the headaches. Maybe the Chosen One of Apophis had the better end of things after all. Just go around causing as much chaos and destruction as possible. That at least sounds like fun.

“My Prophet, we are closing in on the camp!” Kassim’s voice presented itself, and then his face became visible as he rounded the side of the cart.

“I’m ready for action, Kassim,” Rostov said. “The priesthood is just waiting for the laity to get results!” He tried to sound peppy and witty, but the tenor of his voice felt more sour and impatient. It was as if his Charisma had taken a hit with the humiliating attack on their camp. Perhaps it had. Stats were functionally magical, after all, not something that followed logical rules.

“We’re onto the enemy camp!” A voice called.

Rostov sat up straighter and looked around.

“They’ve abandoned it!” Another voice reported. The cart that carried Rostov and Alice pulled forward into a cleared area, and then they could see the campsite for themselves.

The Prophet’s eyes confirmed the obvious. The grass was flattened everywhere, indicating that a camp had clearly been made there. There were stumps from where humans had removed trees that were in their way. There were even small piles of wood where someone had clearly intended to light or feed a fire.

But there were no tents, no sleeping bags, no burning fires, and no camping supplies of any kind. Nothing but—What the hell is that doing there?!

A single gray fur blanket remained near the middle of the cleared area. It lay almost flat on the ground, slightly ruffled, as if someone had laid it out to sleep on, used it, and then forgotten it when the camp moved on.

Definitely belonged to someone in this camp. Hell, maybe that was our intruder’s property. If he left to fight us, he would’ve known it was probably a one-way trip. Maybe he told his people to move along after he left. He gave them a rendezvous point, and they went on their way. But this blanket was left behind?

There was something wrong with this explanation. Assuming he was meant to return if he could, why would they leave his property lying there? This man was going on a probable suicide mission. Heroically sacrificing himself to save a bunch of strangers. Yet it seems a distinctly disrespectful way to treat his remaining possession. And if it didn’t belong to our intruder, then who left a perfectly good fur—

His thought process was interrupted by someone stepping into his line of sight. Rick stood there, all six and a half feet of him, looking down at the fur quizzically. He bent—

“No, you idiot, don’t!”

But before the words were all the way out of his mouth, the Flame Sprite had picked up the fur by the corner. For a moment, nothing happened. Rick turned his head toward Rostov, as if realizing the warning might have been directed at him. His expression was dumbfounded.

Then there was a bright flash of light.

Almost the whole cult went blind for a few seconds. Their eyes, adjusted to the twilight haze, were unprepared for the sudden flare-up in their midst.

Rostov was immune to this effect, as were his three higher ranked priests. And Officer Ross seemed unaffected, too, on the other side of the cart from Rostov. He’d been wearing sunglasses despite the low lighting.

“Well, at least now I know why that was left there,” Rostov thought aloud.

It means we’re on the right track, and they’re afraid of being caught. They can’t be a very formidable force, if they’re worried enough to leave a feeble trap like that. But the prisoners have definitely warned them as to how dangerous we are. Would they have taken the prisoners in? Almost certainly, if they’re the same people that produced our intruder. And there’s little upside to sending them on their way, since the larger group will inevitably produce the easier to follow trail. Not to mention the strength in numbers factor. So they’ll be traveling together…

He looked to the setting sun. It had taken them enough time to get here that he thought their prey must have a pretty good lead.

Do I order the group to continue and give chase through the night, hoping that we catch up to them by around sunrise? If we catch up to them sooner, they might have an edge over us without the sun as our ally. It might be safer if we camp here and march at first light.

He shook his head irritably at that flicker of doubt.

No, we defeated that intruder despite the cover of darkness! There can hardly be others as exceptional as him in this forest.

“Everyone! Clear your eyes, and prepare to move out immediately. I want my trackers to take the lead again. This is a significant group of people moving now, it should be much easier to follow their trail than it was chasing a few prisoners.”

“My sincerest apologies, sir, I—” Rick groveled in Rostov’s general direction, clearly unable to see where the Prophet was.

“Don’t concern yourself about it, Rick. No harm done.” Rostov infused his voice with the usual calm, cool tone he’d trained himself to deliver on command. “You’ve only revealed the other camp’s weakness more profoundly than I could’ve expected.”

All according to plan, nothing to worry about, nothing to see here.

“We’re really moving out now?” Officer Ross questioned. “You know we might end up having to fight in the dark if we’re lucky enough to find them. Or we could lose our trail. Fall into a trap. There’s a dozen different things that could go wrong. We’re putting ourselves at a big disadvantage by going out when the sun’s going down, isn’t that right?”

Rostov noted that the Officer was actually speaking discreetly, with a lower voice. As if he wanted to ensure the exchange was a private one between the two of them. And he actually appreciated Ross’s effort to be somewhat cooperative for a change. So he decided to pretend to be nice.

“Please calm yourself, Officer.” Rostov tried to be reassuring. “Have a little faith. This is an absolutely necessary mission, and we can’t afford to fall far behind our prisoners. If we get close, we’ll make a battle plan and figure out how to lay our ambush.”

Internally, he was fuming.

We’re going to find these fuckers! Rostov thought. We’re going to recover Moloch’s sacrifices. And we’re going to do it even if it’s the longest night of your life!

—

“We have a decision to make,” Alan said. “Do we make camp around here, or do we try to press on further in the darkness?”

“Do we really have a choice?” Mitzi asked. She looked around them and saw the same things that Alan could see.

The sun had just set. The whole group was exhausted. Everyone wanted to sleep. Some people were already taking out axes and kindling as if they wanted to begin felling trees and making campfires before a decision had been made.

“No fires. They might be watching us through the fires.” Chava’s voice rang through the camp.

“Is it really safe to make camp now at all?” Camila’s voice echoed after, concerned and wavery.

“Well, they’re a sun cult, right?” Chava asked. He sounded uncertain. “Will they really come after us now? At night? We don’t even know for sure that they’re pursuing us anyway.”

“I think Chava raises a good point—” Cliff began.

But he stopped as Ramon stepped forward. The young Rogue walked up between two trees near where the elders stood.

“They set off the trap,” he said quietly. “The one that I laid in the blanket we left behind.”

All of the elders turned and stared at him.

“You’re sure?” Alan was the first to speak.

“Absolutely,” Ramon said confidently. “I can only set a certain number of traps. The number doesn’t reset unless I use them up. That means I have to deactivate one, or it has to be set off. This one was set off. So, unless someone else stumbled on our last campsite…”

“We have no reason to imagine that,” Cliff murmured. “So they’re really after us. And they won’t stop until they get those prisoners back. If only James hadn’t gone to fight the cultists—”

“That’s enough of that, Cliff,” Alan said. His voice had a flinty edge to it, though he spoke quietly. “Can we please focus on solving the goddamn problem?!”

“Sure, sure,” Cliff’s tone turned mild. He raised his hands as if in surrender. “How do you propose we do that?”

“Ramon, would you be able to scout the outskirts of the camp for us?” Camila asked. “Maybe we can’t camp for the whole night, but I think most of our family is exhausted and scared. If they could get even a few hours of sleep, they might be able to walk the rest of the night on that.”

“Of course I can.” Ramon smiled sweetly and took her hand.

“I’ll go with him.” Moishe Rose stepped out of the shadows. His tone was flat, his expression grim.

No one wanted to contradict him.

“The more, the better,” Ramon said after a brief pause. He extended his hand to Moishe, and the two shook and introduced themselves. Then they walked away to leave the old people to their planning.

“Hopefully, we can trust that Rose guy,” Cliff muttered. “Do we really know that none of these prisoners is a plant?”

Alan just shook his head. We might all die tonight. But it feels like we’re in good hands.

—

“Nice to meet you, Ramon,” Moishe said as they walked.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“No, if we get to kill some of the cultists, the pleasure will really be all mine,” Moishe said.

“Remember that our first job is to warn the camp,” Ramon said. “If we have to kill some of the folks who held you captive along the way, I’m glad we can do it. They sound like some real pieces of work. But my family comes before your revenge!”

Moishe looked at Ramon levelly for a long, slightly tense moment.

“Of course,” he said at last. “No matter how much I want to get back at those bastards for what they did to my sister, I can never forget the debt I owe your leader. Your camp will come first.”

“Our leader?” Ramon looked confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean—So you believe James is still alive? The others who came from the cultist camp seemed pretty convinced he died.”

“Maybe they couldn’t see what I saw in him,” Moishe said. “I’m sure he’s coming back.”

“We’d all like to imagine that’s true, I think. But why do you sound so certain?”

“Hm.” Moishe tried to sum up the reasons. “I guess just the look in his eyes. Hard as nails. I’ve known soldiers before. Including Special Forces guys. His eyes reminded me of theirs. And then he blew up half of that S.O.B’s camp with one crazy spell. That guy’s a real badass. And incredibly powerful. I won’t believe he’s dead unless I see it happen.”

“Huh.” Ramon had no immediate response. After a few seconds: “Must be nice to have that much faith in someone.” Another pause. “I really hope he comes back.”

They walked away from the camp for almost an hour, aware of the need to have a buffer zone between the camp and possible attackers.

Eventually, Ramon called a halt.

“This is far enough,” he said. “If we patrol here, we should have plenty of time to run back and warn the camp if we see anything.”

“Very good,” Moishe said. “I think this is a good place.”

Ramon looked at him curiously.

“It’s a good place for me to use my ability,” Moishe explained. “It’s an excellent force multiplier.” He drew a knife, and Ramon stepped back as if threatened.

Moishe just shook his head. He’ll see soon enough.  He stabbed his palm with the tip of the knife, then dipped his index finger into the cut. And he began tracing a pattern onto a tree trunk. The pattern he saw in his mind when he used his Skill: Beast Contract Ritual.

—

“I think we’re getting close,” Mustafa Roshan murmured.

“Yeah, the trail is definitely fresher than what we’d been seeing,” Philippe said, sniffing the air. “Can we wake the big guy now?”

“We’ll wake the Prophet when we know we’re within striking range of the camp,” Fatemeh Roshan reminded him sternly.

“We don’t want to piss the Prophet off with another failure,” Leonard Robie agreed.

“What’s that sound?” Mustafa asked.

They all stopped, turned in the same direction, and listened for a moment. A sound like animal grunting could be heard.

Then, much closer, a sudden sound of choking and pouring blood.

Mustafa turned his head back first.

“Fatemeh!” He fell to his knees beside his collapsed sister instantly. The knife that was embedded in her neck was disappearing. He tried to grab it before it vanished, but it was gone before he could touch it. As if the weapon had only been a trick of the light.

And the blood poured out of her neck, fast and hot all over his hands as he tried to staunch the bleeding. She tried to say something, but all he could hear were gurgles and gasps for breath.

“Get a Healer!” Mustafa barked without looking up from his sister. “One of you assholes get a Healer now!”

“Phillippe’s gone!” Leonard said.

Despite his focus on his sister, that announcement made Mustafa’s blood run cold. The vanishing blade. The silent disappearance of Phillippe.

“It’s Moishe Rose,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Fatemeh nodded agreement, smiling through the blood that covered her lips. Even as she lay dying, she was trying to help her brother. Giving him a sense of the danger they faced.

Leonard took off running. Mustafa picked his sister up and ran as well.

Only one of he or Leonard could make it back to the camp now, he knew.