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Hijinx Fantasy Presents: Vicki the Sorceress and the Swamp Men of Mictlan Chapter 2: Wherein Vicki Flies With Old Friends and is Beset by Bandits by Noir

It was odd, being on the road alone. Vicki hadn't been traveling alone for over a year now, and she kept glancing behind, feeling like she'd forgotten something. She laughed at herself for her distraction and looked forward once more. To reassure herself, she patted at her horse's deep chestnut colored neck warmly, murmuring to him, "Just you and me now, Gerand." She glanced back at the packhorse and amended, "and Freckles, of course."

This end of the realm of Bukhara was narrow, but managed to border five stable realms. Past the palace of Shapier, the realm widened into the trackless desert, so no one truly knew the size of the full realm. The few expeditions to explore the realm barrier for profitable realms to start a trade route with had ended badly. There were things that lived in the desert that few men cared to meet. Here, though, the border was marked by a set of towering cliffs, and the entrance to the next realm was an arching gateway carved into the very side of the cliff. A small cluster of tents gathered around the gateway, merchants already up and ready to hawk their wares as the day's traffic came through, ready to get in the first shot at fresh purses.

Vicki smiled and looked at the wares as she walked past, but did not stop at any of the shops. The shopkeepers called to her as she passed more out of habit than any real enthusiasm to start the day's business, and the wild cacophony of the day's trade had not yet started. Vicki would not have stopped in any case - these tents rarely had anything of real quality, and far better goods could be found inside the city. The only place she paused was outside the one large tent from which the delicious scent of falafel and roasted goat drifted tantalizing to her nose, but she moved on, the next realm beckoning. Bukhara had always been trouble for her - three times she'd had to rescue the prince, twice they'd been drugged and taken as slaves, once a dark wizard had stolen an artifact from them, and they'd even had to stop a freed djinn from destroying the whole realm. She really wanted to move on before something else happened.

The gateway arched over the tunnel to the next realm, as wide as two wagons side by side. The sun shone in the far side of the tunnel, only thirty feet in, and Vicki could feel the damp air washing in from the next realm. She rode forward easily, guiding the packhorse, entering the stone gateway. Glowing energy flickered over the carved stone of the wall, making shadows of warm, sparkling light. At the other end of the short tunnel she could see the wet, green swamp realm of Mictlan. Between one step and the next, then, the stone disappeared and the tunnel became little more than energy. To most people, this single step from one realm to the next took an instant, but Vicki was a sorceress. To those magically aware, this transition took several long moments, the tunnel a long corridor of energy holding back the emptiness between realms. Her movement was slowed, as if she was moving through some thick sludge, time stretching out every little movement. The impression of the vast realm behind her, and of the realm before her, almost dwarfed the hundreds of realms floating all around her in an impossibly complex and majestic pattern, and at the center of the Grand Sphere of the Realms, the roiling, multicolored turbulence of the chaos storm, a thousand times larger than the most expansive of realms.

The wet, hot, humid air of the swamps slapped her in the face as if she'd walked into a heated waterfall. Insects buzzed about her, and she regretted not changing out of the Bukharan silk garments before stepping over into this realm. She reached into her saddlebags and drew out her hooded cloak, slipping it over her shoulders and closing it before her in an effort to keep the insects away a little longer, lifting the hood over her head and ears.

The gateway was set into a shimmering field of energy - Mictlan was one of the few realms that had a visible barrier at the edge of the realm instead of it being lost in the landscape. Vicki rode her black horse forward, clucking softly at the mount's reluctance. "I know you hate it here, Gerand," she said to the snorting horse, "but it'll be a quick trip through."

The humid, sweltering swamps of Mictlan did not have any big cities - just three small settlements, one by each realm gateway. This one, like the other two, was made of a dozen small buildings of dark wood, slick and wet from the damp air. The street was churned mud, and most of the inhabitants were hunting out in the swamp for the rare plants and animals which were the only export of the realm, useful for medicine and magic, but too dangerous and unpleasant for most people to go after. The town, Vicki knew, was mostly awash with quickies - folks hoping to get rich overnight with a lucky find. There were only a small handful of people who actually felt at home in this realm, who made up the core body of the populace.

Vicki rode up away from the settlement, following the path of split logs set into the wet, rich soil, the realm barrier to her right and the swamp below her to the left. She rode carefully; the dark wood was slick and swift to rot away in the humid swamp, and she didn't want one misstep to end up crippling Gerand. Up at the top of this path was her goal, a raised platform housing her quick journey across this realm. Wooden hulls floated underneath large bags filled with the flammable swamp gas belched out from the geysers in the area, flying vessels that replaced the need for roads in this watery, dangerous marsh. They were the quickest and fastest way to get to the next realm gate, if you could find a pilot you could trust.

The larger vessels were always reliable - massive ships that could carry whole caravans, but they only left a couple times a day and Vicki could lose hours waiting for one of those to fill up and leave. If she could hire one of the smaller, faster ships, she should be able to make it to the next realm gate before the bigger ship was even thinking of casting off. The only problem with small ships waes that you could rarely tell which of those little ships were captained by someone trustworthy, and which were just pirates. The first ship they'd hired in this swamp had taken them halfway through the realm before trying to kill them and steal everything they had.

"Vicki!" cried the voice she'd been hoping to hear since she entered the realm, the feminine shout coming from above as Gerand's hoof-beats changed from the dull thud of the half-buried logs to the hollow clatter of the platform, and Vicki lifted her gaze and pushed back her hood a little to see a tiny bundle of energy flying towards her. It was Syndra, a tiny fennec lady with an exotically tiger-patterned coloring, who was sliding down a thick mooring rope from her small airship floating above. She had tight black pants and a loose white shirt half-opened in the front, teasingly showing her womanly curves despite her childlike size. She was small even for a fennec, only reaching 4 feet if you ignored the ears adding almost a foot. A bandanna covered her head, keeping her hair back out of her face, and she slid down by dangling from her sheathed saber, the leather sliding over the rough rope with a rasping hiss. The fennec had said she was pure fox blood, and that her tiger-like coloration was from ancient breeding lines for harems, but Vicki personally suspected those ancient breeders had gotten that rare and expensive pelt by adding a bit of tiger blood into the line.

"Syndra!" Vicki replied happily. She knew she could trust this pilot - they'd worked together before when the group had hired her to help them purge a nest of giant spiders that'd been plaguing one of the three villages. The tiny fennec let go of one end of her saber and flew unconcernedly through the air for a dozen feet or more, her loose shirt billowing around her, relaxed and smiling brilliantly as she nigh-flew towards Vicki. She landed lightly on the wood next to Gerand, and Vicki slipped easily from the horse so that Syndra wouldn't get quite as much of a crick in her neck. The excitable fox hugged Vicki happily for a moment before pulling back to act more professional in front of her fellow airship pilots.

"So, what've we got this time?" Syndra asked with an eager curiosity. "We gonna look into the mysterious disappearances? Or did you find a map to some ancient temple in the middle of the swamp?"

"Mysterious disappearances?" Vicki asked curiously, the hook igniting her adventure-lust. "What mysterious - " She stopped, then quickly shook her head, forcing that eager curiosity away. "No, no. No adventures this time. I'm just passing through on my way home."

Syndra let out a disappointed noise. "Well, you can trust me to get you to where you're going real quick. When's the others going to get here?" The small fennec's huge ears drooped so tragically that Vicki couldn't help but want to give her an adventure just to cheer her up.

Vicki shook her head again. "We're all taking a break. Mariah and Ferra are off in Carriston checking out some estate they were awarded for service to the crown. Sara's actually just next door in Bukhara, about to become the Prince's newest bride. I'm on my own on this one."

They chatted lightly about what had happened since they'd last seen each other as they walked around to the actual landing platform that Syndra's airship was hooked up to. Mostly, Syndra grilled Vicki for details about the exciting adventures that Vicki had been part of, and Vicki found herself warming to the role of storyteller, though usually that was Sara's bit.

Syndra's airship had a narrow wooden hull that was sleek when it was first built, but now was old and worn and patched so often that very little of the original hull was left. It floated suspended underneath two long and narrow gasbags, with two long masts hanging out from each side, making the ship four times as wide as it otherwise would be. The sails were tied up underneath the masts, but Vicki knew from experience that with all sails unfurled and the right wind, Syndra could reach some amazing speeds. On the side of the closest gasbag, a dozen feet tall while reclining, was a rakish painting of a sleek orange fox wearing a black headband, a black pair of boxers with a yellow smiley face on them, and little else. The painted fox lounged roguishly over a pilot's wheel alongside the words "Foxy Air". Vicki knew Syndra had painted him herself, and kept the nose-art in fresh repair on a regular basis.

They chatted lightly as they walked up the mooring ramp and onto the ship, Vicki's horse shying a little as the ship shifted under their weight. The loud clops of the hoofs over the deck were answered by the ringing noise of metal clattering over metal below decks. Vicki readied herself with a disarming grin as footsteps thumped heavily up the ladder.

A panther's head popped up from the companionway, half-hidden behind a giant pair of brass and leather goggles. As he came up, Vicki saw he was still wearing the same grungy tan pants and white shirt made of thick, durable fabric that she'd last seen him in, the same worn leather apron filled with tools of every description. He didn't have any hair to speak of, his scalp covered only with short black fur. "Feren," Vicki cried happily, "how good to see you again!"

Feren lifted his goggles to his forehead, looking at Vicki with a particularly unexcited expression. "Ah," he said blandly. "You." His gaze shifted to Syndra. "I'll make sure the fire extinguishers are full and the medkit is stocked."

"Oh, come now," Vicki laughed lightly. "It wasn't that bad!"

"You weren't the one who had to fix it," Feren pointed out. "You will remember, this time, that the swamp gas in the envelope is flammable, right?"

"It was covered in giant spiders!" she objected playfully. "We were seconds from death! And besides, I only destroyed one of the envelopes. We made it back."

Feren sighed and rolled his eyes.

"We're only playing ferry today," Syndra reassured him. "No adventures."

He made an unconvinced noise and turned away.

They were underway within a half-hour, and Vicki retired to Syndra's cabin for a bit to change out of her Tianese silks and into something more normal. When she emerged, she was wearing divided riding skirts and a low-cut tunic with the long hooded cloak over it. Here, rising above the trees, where the bugs weren't nearly as bad, she let her hood back and her long white hair spill over her shoulders as she looked out over the green of the swamp.

Down below, the green landscape was wet and slimy and crawling, full of every kind of unpleasantness, but up here it looked innocent. The vista was warm and green, some parts indistinguishable from plains of grass, but Vicki knew that if you tried to walk through that deceptive grass, you'd sink below the muck before you could let out more than half a yelp. If you walked under the trees, you had to keep an eye open for poisonous spiders or serpents, or the far worse things that inhabited the putrid expanse of the Mictlan swamp. While she could escape the irritating bugs, the deadly beasts, and the uncertain landscape, the one thing she couldn't escape up here was the foul scent - a ripe rotting scent that wrinkled the nose.

But the weather was at least pleasant, and piloting the airship took little of Syndra's attention. They passed the time sharing stories of their experiences and adventure - the little fennec, Vicki discovered, had a far vaster series of adventures in her background than she had expected. She'd just gotten caught in this realm when her portal crystal had been shattered during one of those wild tribulations, and was playing ferry-woman while saving up for a new one.

It was early afternoon by the time they reached the next town at the other side of the Realm, and Vicki was bidding a disappointed Syndra good-bye. The shimmering energy wall of the Realm Barrier was uncomfortable to look at for too long, its warped surface showing a shadowed, twisted reflection of whatever was near it. The border town was much like the one she'd left just a few hours earlier, small houses and few people. The archway stood embedded in the barrier itself, keeping the twisting energy away from the tunnel leading to the next realm.

The trip through the tunnel was much like the last, a single step stretching out into long, surreal seconds and filling her with the vastness of the web of realms all around before her awareness compressed again into the forest realm of Oscuro Bosque.

Rich, verdant forests dominated this realm - trees and other plants grew rapidly here, making it a boon to lumber merchants. A thick, overhung forest could grow from a cleared field in ten years what other realms would take a hundred years to grow. A century ago, the realm was regarded with fear, its dark paths full of creatures wild and capricious, and travelers would take days to circle through the neighboring realms to avoid its dangers.

The Dryad Pact, and the trade road, changed that. The Dryad Rangers and the Salamanca Guardsmen helped to keep the road safe from monsters, and acres of land were given over to the lumber interests. People told stories about what the dryads demanded in return, each theory more outrageous than the last, but they all were satisfied to know that the single road through the wood was the one safe path, with only the occasional stray creature or band of intrepid bandits somehow surviving the forest dangers to prey on travelers.

Vicki had not been expecting bandits. She had thought the stories were exaggerated - without the protection of the dryads, no one could survive Oscuro Bosque, and her own father had worked for five years to establish the pact. It was the success of this road and the duties he could collect from it that had moved her father from a minor lumber dealer to a major merchant house. To think that any bandit would survive in the forest for more than a day or two was ridiculous - but there they were, five of them, standing on the road in front of her.

As a group, the four adventurers had been a formidable force, Vicki herself lending arcane might to the obvious physical danger the other three showed. Together, they showed a challenging mien that many bandits chose to avoid. By herself, she was just a cute skunk lady dressed in nice clothes, riding a good horse and leading a sturdy packhorse. She looked like some minor noblewoman out for a casual but foolish ride through the forest.

Well, no, she mentally amended. She was a beautiful skunk lady dressed in finely custom-tailored clothes that just happened to be serviceable enough to look less expensive unless you knew what you were looking at. She did pride herself on her appearance, after all.

"All we want is your purse, lady," said the man in front, stepping forward with a cocky grin on his face. "Nice and easy, and you can go. No one has to get hurt." Three of the four men behind him had crossbows pointed at her, and the fourth had one of the thick-barreled rifles meant for use in realms of high chaos where normal firearms were unsafe to use. She wondered if there were any more bandits in the forest around them.

Vicki couldn't help but let a small, amused smirk of her own slip onto her muzzle. "Oh, of course," she agreed with him, though her light tone caused the bandits to frown. "It won't be any problem at all." She leaned over the pommel of her saddle to look over the bandit appraisingly. He was a long-furred dog with touslable hair, but otherwise there was nothing remarkable about him. Still smiling, still seeming the helpless maiden, she began to gather in her indomitable will, readying herself to bring up a shield of air that would protect her from the ranged weapons.

Around a bend in the trade road came another horse and rider, leading its own packhorse. The rider was a black cat without a hair of white, very tall, riding a chestnut stallion. At first, Vicki thought it was Feren, with the brass and leather goggles perched on his forehead, but the long black hair spilling across his shoulders in the sun-dappled light under the forest canopy could never have been the panther's. His form was lean but tough, and with his short muzzle, Vicki was finding it hard to tell if he was a panther or a very large house cat. He wore clean green trous and a white poet's shirt, and his black traveling cloak was wide open, draped over his shoulders.

Everyone stopped as they took in the suddenly changed situation. In that long, lingering instant, Vicki ignored the bandits - they were nothing. She instead looked at the cat's quick, intelligent eyes as he took in the vista before him. Those shining emerald eyes lit up with an eagerness that Vicki found all too familiar. She knew what was running through his mind as if he were saying it out loud - a lovely damsel in distress and five filthy scoundrels distressing her. This was an adventure, and his blood was singing as much as hers ever had.

His hand reached back to seize a long cloth-wrapped tube strapped to the saddle behind him, the covering sheet billowing as it fell away. He raised a contraption of wood and brass, bracing it against his hip as he sighted down its length for only a moment, turning his horse crossways to the thugs. A throwing-arm sprung out from each side of the solid wooden tube, sending a cloud of whirling projectiles at the bandit with the rifle, entangling him in cords tipped with small wooden balls. The bandit was still falling as the black cat shifted the aim of the device, and a whumping thud reverberated through the forest as the weapon jerked from the recoil. One of the crossbowmen fell, wrapped up in an enmeshing net.

The bandits shouted in confusion and anger, turning away from Vicki to face the threat of the strange rider. The two crossbows twanged, but the black cat was already pulling the contraption across and away, the covering sheet drawn along behind it, a rippling curtain of cloth that caught the bolts mid-air and pulled them away from the cat, leaving him unharmed.

For just a moment, Vicki caught the amazed and delighted look on the cat's face. He hadn't known whether or not it would work - as much as his blood sang at adventure, he was new to the life. His proud expression suggested to Vicki that he was the inventor of that contraption. The black cat let out a ringing cry of a challenge then, putting heels to the flanks of his steed, whose powerful muscles rippled under its sleek chestnut pelt as it leapt forward with a loud whinny of its own.

The two bandits with crossbows dropped them to the side, and all three bandits still standing drew their swords. The cat flung his contraption at the dog in charge, whose cry of dismay was muffled as the covering sheet draped over him. He struggled under the sheet as the cat's steed ran down another of the bandits, the bandit's cries of pain loud in the quiet forest. He struggled helplessly, trying to keep the horse back, but the steed outweighed him dramatically, as inexorable as a force of nature as its steel-shod hooves trampled the bloodied rogue into the rich soil of the forest floor.

The last bandit, a fox with dusky russet fur, attacked the black cat with sword raised, and the cat whipped out his own sword, the two blades meeting with a ringing clash of steel on steel. The blades pulled apart with a hissing rasp, racing back together to meet again, then again, the black cat circling around the bandit and trying to run him down while the crafty fox managed to use the close quarters of the forest to keep the horse away from him.

As the two circled, seeking an advantage while their blades met again and again, the dog in charge had managed to get the sheet off of him and was raising a throwing dagger to fling cowardly into the cat's back. Vicki pulled on a bit of her will, barely even straining as she summoned up a wave of wind catch the canine bandit in the back of his knees, knocking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground heavily, his head rapping against a stone lifted from the dirt at the side of the trade road, blood decorating the forest floor as he fell unconscious from the impact. Glancing at the other bandits, Vicki saw the one in the net had almost cut himself free already, so she lifted a rock with her magic and flung it at his head, knocking him senseless as well. The others were unmoving, unconscious, and not a threat, so she settled back to watch the conclusion of the battle with interest.

This was a new experience for her, to be rescued instead of doing the rescuing. She considered with amusement whether she should react with the respectful appreciation of a fellow adventurer, or if she should take advantage of the situation to show the wild gratitude that so many she had rescued had displayed. He was rather cute, obviously both clever and athletic. It wouldn't be unpleasant to throw herself into his arms and enjoy herself a bit.

The cat and the fox jockeyed a little bit more, their swords flashing in the mottled sunlight reaching through the heavy tree cover, then a grin of victory suffused the cat's face as he shifted his weight, making the horse walk sideways for a few feet and pushing the fox back. The fox's ankle caught on a raised tree root and he stumbled, off balance for just a moment - but a moment was all the time the cat needed. With lethal speed, his sword flashed forward to sink half the length of its sharp blade into fox's chest. A fountain of bright red blood rushed from the fox's muzzle as the bandit froze in shock, looking down at the length of steel protruding from between his ribs. The fox's sword slid from his nerveless fingers, falling quietly to the grass at his feet, then the fox sunk backwards, sliding off the lowered blade with a wet noise, collapsing lifeless to the forest floor.

Everything was quiet for a moment, the cat looking around carefully to assess the condition of the other bandits. Satisfied that all was safe, he finally smiled and relaxed, looking over his shoulder towards Vicki with a roguish grin. He pulled on the reins with one hand, wheeling his horse around towards her with an extravagant gesture, and put his heels to the flanks of his steed to spur the stallion to meet her. Vicki smiled encouragingly to him, and then watched helplessly as the quick movement of his horse brought his temple into sharp contact with a low-hanging branch he hadn't noticed, knocking him senseless from his saddle and to a helpless pile on the ground alongside the bandit he'd just killed.

Vicki's carefully readied display of gushing appreciation died on her lips as she dropped her face into her palm, her voice conflicting with amusement and exasperation as she sighed, "My hero."