Chapter 59. Brigit's Gambit

rigit was tapped for watch duty soon after the waxing gibbous moon was nearly overhead, marking the approach of midnight.  The stony forest was eerie and silent, wrapped in silver and formless shadows.  She had not slept for her thoughts were consumed with concern for Morisedd and the battle that was soon to come.

It did not take a great tactician to see that the outcome looked bad for Morisedd no matter how this ended.  As she had drowsed, the options played through her mind.  Daring rescues of several varieties had always ended with someone dying, notably herself.  Rising with a sigh, she folded her blankets and carried them as well as her pack and armor to a rough knob of shattered stone that most everyone assigned watch duty had used as a seat that night.  Brigit was stripped down to the slate gray quilted pantaloons and jacket she often wore under her armor for warmth and comfort.  She slipped on her supple suede boots that had lain folded in the bottom of her pack since leaving Lion’s Arch. 

No metal tonight, she thought grimly.  Nothing that shimmered or clanked. 

She had surveyed her skills and attuned herself to those that would serve her purpose.  Her belt pouch held a vial of poison and her longbow, rarely used, sat strung and ready beside her.  She had drawn no suspicion, and her watch partner, by luck, was one of the Crystal Palm monks, a man named Xiang Yi.  Like the other members of his guild, he was grieving and taciturn and found no reason to chat with her.  She had her end of the camp and he had his, sitting meditatively with his palms out and eyes hooded, listening but not watching too closely.  Perfect.  No one would stop her now.

Brigit did not plan to die that night, but she was willing to consider it a possibility and a necessary risk.  If she were successful, the odds would be tilted greatly in their favor and Morisedd would have his chance.  A slightly greater chance, in any event.  It was the least she could do for him now.  The rest was down to luck and the capricious gods.  She would let Nandao handle that part.

And now she waited, draping her blankets around her shoulders as she polished the metal plates of her armor, drawing back into the shadows so that Xiang Yi could see her sitting at her post and be reassured.  Gradually she began building her dummy from her armor, pack and blankets, the moonlight and shadows making a fairly convincing effigy of herself perched on the rock. Visor down, her lack of a face would not matter so much and hopefully Xiang Yi would assume she had suited back up out of paranoia and readiness for battle. 

If all went according to plan, she had no more than two hours to pull off her stunt.  By that time her trail would be cold.  If they were wise, and she knew they were, they would not come looking for her.  Despite having been trained by Sywno himself, her woodcraft was only passable.  A true ranger such as Bao Li could follow her easily.  After belting on her quiver of red-fletched Dunvael arrows, she made one concession to her true nature and slung her black-bladed axe across her shoulder.  She grasped its haft lovingly for the weapon was Deldrimor-made and a gift from her teacher, Bluard.

She gazed back on the camp from the shadows, silently nodding farewell to Nandao.  He would be furious with her when next they spoke, whether on this plane or the next.  He would have tried to stop her and she could not afford to say goodbye for that reason.   Xiang Yi gazed up once toward her armored dummy and kept on scanning the camp peacefully.  It was Brigit’s cue that he suspected nothing and it was time to move.

Brigit crept away lightly on her soft-soled feet, inching over the root entangled ground.  It was slow going as she slipped from one puddle of inky shadows to another.  Gradually she found the cart-track and followed its course from a distance.  She did not dare to walk upon it.  They were at least a league from their quarry and had only made camp when Kiku’s band had settled for the night.  There was a high probability the woman knew now that she was being tailed and Brigit had to assume it was being watched.  The steep banks on either side the track were difficult to traverse and more than a few times she had to leave sight of the track and negotiate the darkness of the forest itself to find a way around.

In places, choking spores clouded her vision and slowed her further.  It was a good thing her face was already wrapped and muddied, ranger style, to hide the pale sheen of her flesh.  There was muddy water trapped in little basins between the blasted stone and jagged shards of rock threatened to tear her skimpy soles and made her long for the stiff, metal-braced boots of a true warrior.  Her heart pounded as she slinked forth, anxiety gripping her gut as she imagined her lack of skill tripping her up.  At one point she heard the telltale click of a trap and grasped a low hanging branch just in time to avoid its bite.  She cursed the wardens, knowing it for their work.  Morisedd could have slipped through the forest at twice her speed, silent as a ghost.  She seemed to find every sharp rock and blind hole in the area.  And now forgotten traps.  Brigit cursed her bad luck. 

Brigit passed a weary hour in this way, wending between fern encrusted gullies and embankments to follow the road and at last reach the encampment of her enemy.  She kept her distance, scanning it appraisingly before she made her final decision.  Kiku knew she was being followed judging by the way the prisoners were now being warded.  The cart lay at the center of the circled bedding of the sleeping Red Lotus Clan while four guards stayed on duty to watch at the periphery.  The ox was barricaded behind the boxes and crates that had formerly filled the cart.  The wagon currently served as a bed for three figures laid out on their backs and partially covered with blankets.  She could see their heads, Morisedd in the center, his eyes open as he gazed up at the sky, and a woman sleeping on either side of him.  She guessed they were Uriel and Lemony.

He chose that moment to turn his head and gaze toward her as if eerily aware of her presence.  He looked awful, filthy and haggard with a grizzled beard darkening his chin.  She held her breath, relieved when he shifted slightly and resumed gazing skyward.  The haunted look in his eyes pierced her to the core.  Cursing the cruelty of her foes, she forged onward, east past their camp.  Toward the river.

Now she would test the knowledge and skills Sywno had granted her.  She was not a true Dunvael ranger, but tonight she would try to be.  Onward she trudged, carefully picking up her feet and laying them down with infinite care, light as a shadow.  Beyond the glow of the campfire she relaxed a little as the landscape shifted downhill and the stone trunks and heavy undergrowth walled her in.

Bao Li had told her the river regions were thick with dredge and judging from their past week of encounters with the vile creatures, she knew this to be true.  If she were wrong, it would all be for naught.  She had to try. 

Brigit paused, detecting the acrid stench of rotting flesh and filth emanating from the deepening shadows.  Her body recoiled from it, instinctively wanting to flee from the putrid odor.  Swallowing, she felt her way in the dark, pausing to listen over the knell of her own heart.  The grunts and roars of the fetid beasts were now audible, low and menacing.  The underbrush pulled in on her like the bars of a cage and she feared she would not be able to flee nor fight her way clear.  But she had to do this, she had to succeed.  It was Morisedd’s only hope.

At last she saw the blaze of the dredges’ filthy lair.  There was a wet smoky fire over which roasted ripped quarters of mantis and wardens.  The maggot-colored beasts hunched around their fire variously roaring and grunting as the largest of them squabbled over a warden’s torso, its innards spilling out into the fire with a hiss.  The more submissive members of the clan faced the others with gaping maws open toward the scent of fresh meat.  She counted fourteen of them.  Possibly too many.  It was a risk she had to take.

With infinite care she applied poison to her arrows and nocked one to her longbow, praying to Melandru that she could actually shoot straight.  She aimed at the meaty back of a dredge guardian and adjusted for the arc of the bow, hoping it was so broad across the shoulders she could not possibly miss.  The arrow flew true, arcing into the darkness and stinging the creature’s shoulder. It roared in rage, swatting at itself where its flesh turned green with venom.  With the red-fletched arrow still standing it is shoulder, the beast swung about, snuffling the air with its enormous mole-like jaws.  She struck a second and then a third, bringing their wrath down upon her.

Her blood sang in her ears as the creatures trundled up the slope in a roaring wave.  Then, just as she thought it could not possibly become any more terrifying, four oni erupted into view, emerging with snarls from the abundant shadows.  The fearsome gray creatures sighted on her and staggered awkwardly after the dredge, their enormous arms clawing the air hungrily.  Too many.  She would endanger those she was trying to save. 

But she ran now, dropping her bow in her haste and tripping several times in the darkness as she hurried back toward Kiku’s encampment.  Stupid.  She should never have done this.  Rushing clear of some roots she careered into a dense thicket of canes, her clothes and flesh ripping as she tried to tear herself free.  The ground thundered with the approaching wave of enraged monsters.  Holy putrescent stockings of Grenth she was going to die before she even made it to her intended target.

Bleeding profusely, she finally won free and raced up over a mossy knoll thick with choking spores.  She was afraid to jinx herself but nevertheless wondered what else could possibly go wrong that night.  She fingered her healing signet but she dared not stop.  Gasping raggedly, she sprinted down the hill and tripped, rolling head over heels into a sleeping  nest of mantids.  The creatures hissed to life with enraged clicks, stinging her brutally with hexes as she continued down the hill in a cursing bloody ball.

Dwayna’s Drawers, she was dead.  No way could she survive this.  The dredge crested the knoll and burst down over the mantises.  The angry insectoids instantly turned on the dredges and during the resulting melee, Brigit slammed into a trunk beside the cart track and lay there for a moment, stunned and bleeding.  Then, staggering to her feet, she invoked her signet, panicking as she felt her body growing cold and unresponsive.  An instant before fainting her body shuddered with a burst of warmth.  Now she fumbled in panic for her bottle of troll unguent, hoping she remembered the chant to invoke Melandru’s blessing. 

So it was not as potent as Sywno’s charm, she chided herself as she staggered through it, but at least it worked, sending a surge of energy into her body and closing her many wounds.  Panting, she sprinted down the track as the mantises were crushed by overwhelming odds and the dredge sighted upon her fleeing boldly upon the moonlit track.

“That’s right,” she shouted at them, “Come to dinner you ugly pieces of shit!”