The Butcher of Gadobhra

Chapter 553: Couriers Make the Best Bait

Ben hated the plan. Granted, he'd come up with most of it himself, but he hadn't thought that he'd end up being the bait. Chartok, sadly, had too much experience chasing and failing to catch far too many Couriers in his time and knew just how fast they could run. To his mind, Ben was the perfect person for the job.

"Tut, tut, I have complete faith in your ability to flee from a few dozen ravenous ogres with eating disorders. I've been taunted many times by the sight of a Courier within pouncing distance, only for them to race away like the wind, giggling and making rude comments about me. You'll do fine. And if you get in trouble, let Goodboy make the decisions. He's a smart puppy, aren't you?"

The zombified albino Snarlfang looked up as his name was said, and his eyes twinkled. He let out a loud 'woof', and butted his head against Ben affectionately. Ben sighed, and scratched behind his ears. He had to admit that his mount had a sixth sense for dodging at just the right moment or squeezing between two large opponents and getting him to safety. Despite the utter strangeness of the situation he was getting fond of the undead predator and had to conclude that it was some special ability all dogs had. Even dead ones.

"But do we really have to tie all this raw meat to his harness? I'm sure we look tasty enough already."

"Sorry, I was informed by a clever human that to set a proper trap, you needed to use the right bait. Don't complain to me if the best bait for this plan happens to be a tasty prey animal and and fresh meat. You're the only living thing in our expedition, so you get the honor of leading the pack of Hungry Ones to where they need to go. Now, tie those fresh carcasses on tightly and drag a couple more behind you. We don't want them losing the scent. I'm off to do the difficult part of this plan." Ben grumbled and got to work. Goodboy made encouraging noises, looking forward to going for a brisk walk with is best friend.

Chartok had no trouble slinking and skulking in the night from one camp to another. Surrounding every camp were the huge hordes of the frozen dead men. Winter used them to separate the tribesmen who were constantly bickering with each other, the hungry packs of wargs, and the true monsters such as the Hungry Ones. While they might be a good defense against warm-blooded imperial scouts, they were worthless at keeping out an undead necromancer. Worse than useless, since they were dead and his to command with a little effort.

The Winter army was spread across a broad front, giving him many targets in his quest to eradicate the Northern Paladins and keep them out of his territory. He'd found the Courier and the Shepherd to be useful in his crusade, and the nightly delivery of fresh chicken was a delight he looked forward to. He'd been upset to find that chicken coops were sadly absent across a broad area that had once teamed with small farms.

Tonight's plan was more ambitious than the small raids he'd been conducting. He was done with ambushing small units of scouts or picking off a slow-moving wagon train. Tonight he wanted to cause trouble. Luckily, trouble was something he excelled at, and the Courier had a devious mind. Using the Shepherd's aerial scouting to plan his attack had been a delightful bonus. Walking unseen through the hordes of Frozen Dead, the wolf opened up narrow lanes and created a pathway for Goodboy to run. Then he slunk closer and closer to the great wooly mumakil that pulled the massive sledges with the supplies the winter army depended on for its living troops and beasts.

The huge beasts slept standing and were never unharnessed. The long, thick strands of braided leather that pulled the sledges was made from the tough hide of polar krakens. The foot-thick leather strands carved from the kraken's tentacles were enchanted, stretched, and braided into massive ropes. They took years to make, but would last centuries, being moved from one mumakil to the next as the beasts aged. Fireproof, harder than steel, and able to pull a hundred tons each, the ropes were nearly indestructible. Chartok considered them a challenge.

He also loved the way they gave him an easy way to run up to the top of the mumakil where a huge howdah provided a comfortable home for a dozen Winter Wizards and their guards. More ropes encircled the mumakil, anchoring the howdah in place. The guards were lax (and tasty) as he moved from one to the next. The wizards snored inside, unaware he was there. And his magic was too subtle to alert them. Just as he'd snuck within inches of Paladins to rot the wheels of their wagons, he found a nice spot to hide and start the process of severing the strands of the first rope. It was harder than he'd expected and he began to gnaw on the rotted leather to speed the process. It was undignified, but so was getting your head stuck in a chicken coop. His ego would survive. As he worked through the first rope, his mind wandered and considered the plan. How strange it was to be working with an old adversary. But if he wanted his statue to be properly finished, he'd work with anyone, even a Courier who had dared to ride him like a hobby horse.

The Hungry Ones were grumbling about food, as usual. The Winter Ogres of the far crags were cursed with hyperactive metabolisms that gave them immense strength, but demanded they eat constantly. The food had been slim on this journey, with none of the large villages promised by the wizards. Only abandoned hamlets and a few skinny cattle or sheep found running wild. To keep them in line, hundreds of wargs were sent to them each day, but the stringy meat of the starving dogs did little to keep their bellies fed, and the walking corpses that hemmed them in melted in their mouths and tasted terrible. When the scent of fresh meat came to them, all of the hundred-strong tribe came awake at once, sniffing the air and looking for what smelled so delicious.

They didn't have to wait long as Ben and Goodboy raced past their camp, meat dangling from the Snarlfang's harness and more being dragged along behind them, making a trail they couldn't lose. Howling, the Hungry Ones gave chase, tearing their way through the Frozen Dead while Goodboy sprinted through a narrow passage made by Chartok. Their goal was a camp of barbarians a mile away. Ben had first worried about the Ogres following his trail. Now he worried about staying ahead of them. Even enhancing Goodboy's speed, the Hungry Ones were keeping up, and even gaining a little. Their empty bellies pushed them hard and the exertion made them hungrier, converting them to ravenous, unthinking monsters. As they got close to the camp of tribesmen, Ben smelled their cookfires, and blessed whoever was stupid enough to have meat stewing over an open flame.

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He ran by the outer sentries leaning on their spears. Shouts alerted the camp but he was already inside the perimeter. Goodboy leaped over a row of tents and landed in the center of the camp, inside a ring of drummers, dancers, and three men cooking a haunch of venison for the Jarl's feast. People clapped, thinking this was part of the entertainment, and Ben obliged them, having Goodboy race around the circle as he waved his hat in the air. When the got in front of the Jarl, Goodboy grabbed the venison in his mouth and Ben's whip flicked out, snaring the Jarl's gold-inlaid drinking stein. And then they were away, leaping over another row of tents as the Jarl screamed to catch them.

The screams continued as the Hungry Ones entered the camp, not caring who or what they ate. Ten to one odds against the Ogres just meant they could eat their fill for an hour.

And while most stayed in the camp, catching and eating the little humans that tried to fight them, a dozen pursued Ben, still following the scent of the raw meat, and now smelling the venison roast that Goodboy was chewing on as he ran.

Another half mile onward, along his cleared route, Ben saw the first of the huge, wooly elephant creatures. It was harnessed to a sledge over a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, piled two stories high with the supplies that fed the Winter army. Chartok had almost cut through the first rope. He'd decided the rot would have to do the rest. As the barbarian camp exploded in screams he chewed furiously, casting Necrotic Rot and Paw of Dust repeatedly, trying to sever the second rope. When he saw Goodboy running up, he sent his minion a silent command to come to him, surprised when Goodboy answered him back with a wordless greeting. Most of the minions never had a thought in their head and he was delighted to have a subordinate that could act on his own. Someone had to keep watch on the devious Courier, after all.

Goodboy arrived and began chewing from the other side. Ben looked down to where the Ogres were climbing up the two ropes after them. "It's a long way down to jump, can the two of you chew faster?"

"Says the human who can't chew through his breakfast! I've rotted and chewed until my jaws are sore and I gave up chew toys a few centuries ago."

"Well, let's see what a little fire will do." He started with his smallest spell, Burning Brand, applying Phoenix fire to the mostly destroyed rope. The god-fire made short work of the enchantments on the leather that had been protecting it from the rot. It also cancelled Chartok's spells, to the wolfs annoyance, but the damage had been done. The fire burned through the last strand of the immense rope, sending ogres plummeting to the hard earth. Undeterred they ran to the still intact rope and began climbing after their fellows. The raging screams of the Hungry Ones had woken the wizards in their howdah, and Ben looked from the climbing ogres to the canopy of furs. "Work on the belly band. I'll finish this one, and you probably want to get far away from me."

Chartok grumbled something like 'You're not the boss of me!' but moved to the center of the howdah and began to cut through the rope holding the howdah steady. He knew what was coming next and didn't want to be singed by it. Ben put his hands on the remaining rope and blessed it with an intense blast of fire, enhanced by both Ra and the Maid of Orleans. The strand parted and anyone within five miles saw the light. It certainly woke up the five Ice Wizards and their paramours inside the howdah, who began looking for their staves and screaming for the guards. One wizard leaped from the parted furs and leveled his staff at Ben. Goodboy bit his head off and his body crumpled to the ground spurting blood.

Chartok cast one last spell and ran for the mumakil's head where a smaller platform gave the driver a nice place to sit. Ben left the rear and joined him Ice Wizards poked their heads out of openings, worried about what was going on. The Beast beneath them woke and was also wondering what was going on. The familiar drag of the ropes was gone, but the driver was giving mixed signals.

Ben looked at Chartok and Goodboy, and again pondered their relationship. Then shrugged. There was no sense breaking up a winning team. "Get far forward and crouch down, you aren't going to like this."

The old wolf growled but moved. "I don't like it already!"

Enhanced Phoenix Fire rained down from the sky in a double blast. The Ice Wizards were casting defensive shields, staving off the flames for a second before melting and giving them painful burns. The mumakil, by contrast, had some painful sores on her back healed by the spell where she'd carried the howdah for years. A few seconds later another double blast of god fire roared down from the sky, burning the furred tent to ash and injuring the wizards inside. Hairless, beardless, and blinded by the light, they screamed as their platform shifted. The freed mumakil took a step and flexed her back, sending the howdah crashing to the ground and ridding herself of the weight.

Freed of her shackles and burden, the mumakil trumpeted her triumph and began moving. Ben grabbed the reins, and her speed increased three-fold. He had no idea of where he was going, but the creature under him wanted to go home. He let her have her way and they trampled through the Winter army in a huge U-turn while the two still shackled mumakil stamped anything in reach and urged their friend to run.

Ben looked to the two Snarlfangs on either side of him, sitting with their tongues out, enjoying the ride. Behind him, part of the enemy camp was in shambles, and the Hungry Ones were gorging themselves on a mountain of food that no one was going to move them off of. Then he allowed himself to relax, sitting between two undead predators, and enjoying the ride.