Chapter I ~ Episode 2 : THE MARAUDERS

( from the journals of the wanderer, Ryld Hune... )

2.
T H E   M A R A U D E R S

In which the intrepid trio plunge into the dread Bogs of Borska on the trail of bloodsucking monsters. What they find is something else; no vampires, but raiders from the Wolf-Lands. But it seems these barbarians fear what emerges from the swamps at dusk...

Once the villagers were on their way, we set out, following the tracks through the muddy fields around Borska. The afternoon heat and the spring dampness makes the travelling unpleasant.

Based on the tracks, our quarry are four on horseback, but as much as the mud hampers us, Iskra says the horses are even more slowed by the terrain. Finally, the tracks led us into the lowland of the valley, into the old bog. This is where the villagers found the bodies of local folk drained of blood.

Mirko seems uncertain, though I can't tell if it's out of a fear of vampires, or that he just doesn't want to get his leggings wet. Finally, we decided there's no other option than to enter the bog. The horses will be hampered by the swampy terrain, and this will be our best chance to catch up with them.

*  *  *

We've taken a moment to rest, so I'm writing more. The road through the bog is full of twists and turns, with many stinking pools, dead trees, and gnarled roots to stumble over. The stinging insects are especially bad now, and I travel with my head down and my hood up, even though that makes the  heat worse.

I'm glad that Iskra is with us. Her wilderness skills are impressive. I may know something of plants and nature, but she knows how to navigate the land. She seems to know where to step and how to trim our course to make it easier. She led us along hidden, quicker paths that the horses couldn't have traveled, so we may catch them yet.

Also, she looks like she can truly shoot that longbow she carries, though I hope we never have to test that ability.

*  *  *

It was late afternoon when Iskra spotted the old cabin on a muddy bank, one half sunken into the marsh. It was some distance off the road, so we had to approach through knee-deep water and crouch in the reeds. We knew we must have the right place when we spotted tethered horses outside.

Our 'officer' Mirko seemed to think he was some kind of scout, and crept in for a closer look. After that, suddenly, everything was a blur. Mirko was struck by an arrow from the reeds. I quickly spotted the archer emerging from the brush, and instinct took over. I gathered my inner power and unleashed a bolt of force at the man.

Iskra was quick to follow me, and put an arrow in the man's gut. He doubled over and collapsed into the water, never to rise. I have some skill with a hunter's bow, but I could tell she was a truly skilled archer.

Another smaller man ran out of the sunken shack, brandishing a sabre. Mirko shouted at him, claiming we were the Prince's army, and that they were surrounded. I screamed at him to drop his weapons and in his confusion, he actually did! Mirko was quick to take advantage and ran the man through with his rapier.

Two more men emerged after the first. One was a behemoth - easily thrice my size - clad in mail and carrying a great axe. The last was carrying a spear, and wore trinkets and strange symbols on his skin, and I knew him to be some kind of shaman. All of these men were roughly dressed outlanders, but wore the armour and livery of some noble's army I did not recognize.

The mystic spoke a pagan charm, and the roots and reeds around Mirko's feet grew about his legs and entangled him. The barbarian brute roared at us, displaying a mouth of teeth filed to sharp points. He charged through the swamp towards us. Iskra made to draw another arrow, but he was upon us in a blink.

Without thinking, I stabbed at him with my dagger. Some otherwordly force must have guided my blade, because it slipped under the arm of his scale armour, and pierced his flank. Damn, he looked pissed!  He swung that huge axe at me, and I'm still not sure what happened after that. I felt the weight of the axe slam into me, and I must have blacked out for a moment.

When I opened my eyes, I had a vicious cut on my arm, but the barbarian was face-down in the bog. I don't know how, but Iskra likely saved my life. I am thankful to her for that, but now I find myself wondering... we carried no torches. Why was his corpse smoldering with the smell of burned hair and skin?

Everything happened so quickly after that. Iskra darted across the marshy ground like it was nothing, and thrust her blade into the shaman's neck. While I sturdied myself, I saw her and Mirko beat the last man to the ground, where he cowered weakly.

We bound the barbarian tightly and interrogated him. He spoke Kosh with a thick accent, but he feared us and answered our questions. It seems these men were Rastanian tribesmen from the Wolf-Lands of the south, hired as mercenaries by some Malacovian count. When their campaign ended they did not return home, but instead kept their army uniforms and went about the countryside, raping and pillaging. We decided to bring him back to Borska to face the villagers' justice.

We found their horses were packed with loot - gold and small coin, and whatever things of value the raiders could carry. We did not rest long, hoping to leave the bog before dusk. Mirko and Iskra gathered up the men's belongings, and weapons too, and left the dead to fester. We headed back to the village on horseback... something I was glad for, but Iskra seemed ill-at-ease in the saddle.

On the way out, the bog was no kinder, but we rode above the muck, following the bumpy path instead of the short-cuts we'd taken on the way in. Our spirits rose, as were soon to be free of this depressing place... but these feelings melted away when we found the body.

It lay splayed across some tree roots near the path. The poor fellow was bloated and raw, but seemingly drained of blood through nail-sized holes about his neck, wrists and thighs, just like the bodies described to us in Borska. Our prisoner began jabbering fearfully. They had found this same body when they entered the swamp, and they too feared vampires haunted the bog. It looks like it has lain here for at least a full day.

As I write this, we are all too weary from the pursuit and the fighting, and our wounds pain us. We have decided to rest here for a while, but Iskra is certain we can still make it out of the bog before night falls. I am still thinking about that body and those wounds. They remind me of something, but my thoughts are uncertain. Perhaps time will tell...