Chapter 72: Foetid

It was, unfortunately for Marcus, not fantasy cocaine. After nearly an hour of rest Bayle returned to them with a small pouch in his hand that he was already opening. He pulled out a large leaf and handed one to Crick first. “Oh, fuck,” he said grimacing as he took it. “You’re familiar then?” asked Bayle. “I was given one for a forced march to keep me on my feet. Tastes like death and gave me shits for a week.” Bayle shrugged holding out another of the leaves to Ollie who took it hesitatingly. “I wish I could tell you that it wouldn’t happen, but in my own experience, yes, that’s what our reward will be if we survive this.” He handed out the remaining leaves to everyone else. “You all have young, strong bodies, but aside from Michael I don’t think any of you will be at your best without this. We’ll likely be awake for another day before we’re able to rest.” “Couldn’t we just wait?” asked Marcus. I mean it’s not like we can’t enact the plan after the siege starts back up.” Bayle shook his head. “Not one of these boys here is going to die because we chose to wait.” He popped his own leaf into his mouth. “Now pop those in your mouth and get ready to move. Leave your packs and your armor, they’ll make us too visible. He reached into his bag and grabbed tan bundles of cloth, tossing one to each of them. “Put those on, they’ll let us blend in better once we’re inside.” “What’ll keep our allies from attacking us once we let them in?” asked Pyotr, already stripping. Military life killed any sense of modesty pretty quickly. “I had everyone that’s part of the group we’ll be letting in mark the jackets. They’ll be able to tell us apart easily.” Michael looked more closely at the bundle. It was a Tusinian uniform, the kind he’d been putting holes in for the last month. They seemed very similar to the gray Stent uniforms, but the material felt a bit different, less like the midweight wool and more like a linen blend. “Do we need to know what ranks we would be, or how to salute like a Tusinian?” he asked as he tied and tightened his trousers. “Too many rules to how they interact for me to teach all of you with so little time. If we need to talk to anyone, let me handle it.” He looked at Michael. “Chew the leaf.” Michael saw everyone else grimacing at the taste of it in their mouths, their movements growing jittery already. “Didn’t you just say that I would probably be fine without it?” “I don’t want ‘fine’ I want your best. I’d like to survive this.” Michael sighed and folded the leaf a bit before popping it into his mouth and chewing. It reminded him of finding a whole bay leaf in Sara’s cooking. Unfortunately, in this case he couldn’t simply remove it with a laugh and enjoy the rest of the meal around it. As he chewed it, it began to leak some kind of bitter fluid that trickled down his throat unpleasantly. He felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest almost immediately, like he’d slammed one of the energy drinks his younger coworkers seemed to survive on back at the office. Once they were all dressed, they started to make their way out of the camp, drawing a number of confused stares as a group of Tusinian soldiers in uniform walked through the camp and left. Once out of the camp they didn’t head straight for the castle, but rather to the right of it. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to set with the near transparent silhouettes of the three moons starting to appear in the sky above them. They moved quickly and soon found themselves among a small cluster of trees around a river that was running to the south. Bayle looked around the area a bit, sniffing the air, and moved to an area overgrown with vines and leaves out of the bottom of which were small amounts of dank looking fluid leaking out. He drew one of his shortswords and cut away the vines in two quick strokes. “This is it,” he said, stepping away from it and taking a moment to make sure his pants were properly tucked into his boots. Michael looked at the opening. It was barely his height and could maybe fit two of them at a time. Now that he was closer he could also catch the edges of the scent that was emanating from it and it made his eyes water. “Everyone, gather around Ollie,” said Bayle, confident his boots wouldn’t let any sewage into them. “You have the spell ready?” He nodded, and started mutterings of cunt, shit, and fucker to get his magicka flowing. “Michael, you stay closest to Ollie, Davi you bring up the rear, Pyotr and Marcus you’re in the front with me.” They all got into formation and Ollie finished the first part of his spell. There was a kind of pop, as the gentle breeze that had been hitting them ceased, and all the sound around them became muffled. “Keep your talking to a minimum, and your breathing steady. We’ll have a limited amount of air.” He started walking at a deliberate pace toward the tunnel mouth. “Let’s go.” Everyone shuffled in, Ollie continuing to incant the words that kept his focus on his spell from waning as they made their way into the tunnel. Ollie and Davi had to duck to get inside, but they all managed to squeeze into it without too much issue. When they were far enough into the tunnel that light from the entrance was gone Bayle muttered a few words and summoned a small orb of light for them to see by. It was a necessary thing, to see what to avoid stepping in and keep from running into one another in such tight quarters, but Michael couldn’t help but think that ignorance may have been bliss in this particular situation. He saw piles of hardened excrement swarming with strange centipedes covered in sharp spikes, rats the size of small dogs fleeing into cracks in the walls, and roaches swarming across the foulest portions of the unspeakable all throughout. He was surprised that he didn’t need to suppress the desire to vomit, and wondered if the leaf he was chewing was having an impact on any nausea he would normally be experiencing. Aside from the main tunnel they were in, there were dozens of smaller ones and occasionally there were protruding pipes that would release a splash of something foul into the water ahead. As they got deeper into the tunnel the air within the bubble started to thin and Michael started to feel lightheaded. The others seemed to have it worse, with Davi and Marcus actually stumbling once or twice as they lost their balance on the uneven ground. Ollie’s muttering had stopped, and even in the dim light Michael could see beads of sweat dripping down his face as he continued to focus his magicka on keeping the barrier active. Bayle was the only one who didn’t seem to be struggling at all. His pace wasn’t growing panicked, nor was there even a hint of worry in his expression those few times he turned back to check everyone’s pace or react to noise. A dim light started to become visible ahead. At almost the exact moment Michael saw it, Ollie’s shield dropped. Everyone’s senses were immediately assaulted by all of the rotted and fetid things in the sewers. No one vomited, but Davi nearly fell, and Michael had to actually catch Ollie as the combination of methane and his exhaustion made him collapse. Michael’s own vision became blurry and he started to run toward the light, raising his hand to start continuously healing everyone as they ran toward the light. Bayle and Marcus were holding onto Pyotr and running forward as well. Michael was dizzy and disoriented as the gases in the tunnel assaulted his senses, but he was aware enough to feel despair when they reached the source of illumination. It was a thick wooden trapdoor with only small shards of light bleeding through it. They were doomed for a moment, no one would have the strength to break through it. Bayle shattered it with a single solid blow, sending planks and splinters flying into the room beyond and suddenly filling the tunnel with light. He leapt upward leaving Marcus to deal with Pyotr who also swiftly moved through the exit. Michael caught up quickly, with Ollie draped over his shoulder and climbed up through the exit just in time to see Bayle driving one of his swords deep into a man’s throat as another man made his way for a nearby stairwell. Michael dropped Ollie roughly and started running to intercept him.