Chapter 4 - Part 1

CHAPTER FOUR – OLD FRIENDS, OLD ENEMIES, NEW PLANS
The 15th of Olarune, 993 Y.K., near the southern coast of Droaam

The hobgoblin growled like a cornered dog, gurgling and twitching helplessly against his restraints. Delegado ignored Marcuiss’ wordless protests as he worked the bellows, pumping the man’s daily paste into his throat. Delegado had no intention of taking off Marcuiss’ gag. Some wizards were known to always have certain spells completely memorized, so that they would not need spellbooks to prepare them. As an added protection, the protein and vegetable mush that he fed the hobgoblin once a day was laced with a mild sedative that interfered with the brain’s ability to plan. Delegado alone fed Marcuiss. He did not want to take the chance that someone might misfire the bellows, and choke the prisoner by accident. Marcuiss was worth far more alive.

The wagon continued to move south. Vralkek was a smudge on the horizon now, and Delegado had given his team standing orders to keep moving unless the horses were actually on the verge of collapse.

It had been a hard slog southward. The roads, such as they were, barely existed. House Orien had never come to this part of Khorvaire, and as such the collection of trails that passed for a highway had collapsed ground, marsh, washed out fords, steep grades, and holes that a man could lose a leg in. They had already used the spare axle and both spare wheels. One orc was laid to rest with a prayer, while the other three all had fresh scars. Delegado had come close to being wounded several times, but he had pulled them through, albeit with about a quarter of the ammunition that they started with.

The gnoll hirelings had lost about a third of their number, but Delegado didn’t really care about that. He conveniently ignored the barbecues of their fallen comrades as well. The House Tharashk orcs snarled to themselves at that, for even the lowest of Dragon Below cults did not cannibalize their own. Their opponents, perhaps, but never their own.

“Good boy,” Delegado said, wiping Marcuiss’ chin. The hobgoblin growled again, fresh hate in his eyes. Hobgoblins were ever a proud race. “Enjoy it, there’s a whole twenty-three hours until you get more.” He checked the wizard’s bonds carefully and then nodded to the orc next to him. That fellow grimly steadied his crossbow, ready to put a shot into the wizard’s back at a moment’s notice.

Delegado stepped forward through the flap and tapped the driver on the shoulder. Relieved to be pulled from the sunlight, that orc nodded and ducked back into the covered wagon as the half-orc took the reins. Delegado smiled. Unlike his full-blooded orc cousins, he had no problems in bright light. And unlike his full-blooded human cousins, Delegado could function perfectly in darkness as well. The jhorgun'taal really did have the best of everything in Delegado’s opinion.

The gnoll leader, Fegl or something like that, rode up to him. Fegl had been only the second-in-command, until they had stumbled across the colony of giant bees that had carried off Fegl’s older brother. “Hey boss!” Fegl barked, speaking a passable Common since he knew only a few words in Orc.

“What’s up?” Delegado asked him. Overhead he heard a familiar cry. Feather was returning.

“My scout got word of the flags at the town gates,” Fegl said. “New code up. Thought you should know.”

“Tzaryan Rrac has been deposed?” Delegado asked, surprised. Tzaryan was an early and avid supporter of the sisters. Anyone who sought to assassinate him would definitely think twice due to the blowback from the hags.

“No, no, but he not in town,” the gnoll explained. “His flag second in number, but still highest placed. The ogre wizard out west at his manor.”

“Hunh,” Delegado said. “So who’s got the most flags?”

“His number second,” Fegl told him. “Funny orc. Red eyes, wings he hides under a cloak.”

Delegado’s mouth went very, very dry. It took all of his control not to jerk back on the reins out of reflex. Above him, Feather screamed again, sensing his master’s mood. “Is his name Shaidan Infernix?” Delegado asked hoarsely.

Fegl was surprised. “Yeah, you knows him?”

“Yes.” Oh if ever one word was insufficient as an answer…

“Him dangerous,” Fegl advised. “Got some bad magic. Moves fast.”

“I know,” Delegado told him. “Thank you.”

Fegl stayed by him for a moment, they pulled his horse back to joint he other gnoll riders. No doubt Fegl was eagerly telling the other gnolls that there was someone that the great Delegado d’Tharashk was afraid of after all.

Never was good at hiding my emotions, Delegado thought. Never bothered is the truth behind it. He tried not to dwell on it. He had been intending to head straight for the Tharashk enclave anyway. This would not change his plans.

He hoped.