Panacea - Chapter 1 - Prequel.
Story by rocko wallaby on SoFurry
A new story, and a new beginning.
Sometimes, help comes from the unlikeliest places.
Note: All characters and concepts associated with this story series are the property of the author. No reuse, revision or copying of any parts or concepts within this story is permitted without the author's permission.
Panacea Chapter 1 - Prequel.
Truth be told, I really didn't like these people very much. Not even a little bit.
Indeed, my loathing of the pestilent populace had gained a particular virulence in recent hours as my unavoidable contact with the inhabitants of this cesspit city increased.
I tried putting down the negative feeling as I pushed through the crowded market place, people reluctantly giving way while glaring at my temerity for expecting them to do so. So much for common courtesy, I muttered, shoving one lard of a man from my path, his bulk jiggling indignantly as he cursed the unwanted personal contact. Not that they had much option, really, as I wasn't budging an inch, fed up with the stinking, ignorant feral lot of them.
Still, I shuddered as my sodden boot plunged mid-thigh into yet another reeking pool of filth. Grimacing, I didn't want to consider what nasty's might be lurking within the cocktail of muck, let alone how I was going to get the stench out of my skin, but at least the icy rain pouring from above kept my upper parts resembling clean, if half frozen.
Shit, you'd think with that much water pouring from above the place would actually become cleaner, but rather than improve, the water seemed to have a magical ability to simply make the place increasingly disgusting the more soaked and waterlogged it became.
A snort from behind had me turn to regard my companion, who had dropped his head to glare balefully at the humans pushing around us. I sympathised with him as he snarled at one grub who ploughed into his shoulder, but I still pulled at his bridle to snap his attention from the source of his displeasure before he acted further, keeping him in line despite my companionable negative feelings. The last thing I needed was him taking a bite out of a total stranger, regardless how warranted and deserved I secretly thought it might be. He'd never shown such behaviour before this, but neither of us was feeling charitable and while such a thing might be unlikely, it was not something I was prepared to risk, given the dubious nature of my “citizenship” on this unhealthy hell hole.
Not that my papers wouldn't stand up to the highest degree of scrutiny, of course. I'd made damned sure of that before I started here, duplicating to the finest detail a set of identity documents I'd absconded from an unfortunate I'd encountered many months ago. Unfortunate for him, anyway, although I hadn't been the one to kill him. I'd simply uncovered his half decomposed corpse rotting in the forest near my base station. Not having the luxury of squeamishness, I'd thoroughly ransacked his belongings, making sure to document everything including his half-rotten clothing, on which I then based my own present disguise.
Not his name, of course. I'd subtly altered that based on my earlier Intel, keeping my new alias in tune with that of the locals, even as I left the overall information intact. A little anonymity never hurt, and the last thing I wanted was to find myself confronted with an irate relative, or even worse the local equivalent of the constabulary, in possession of papers from someone long thought deceased.
Snorting again, the drake gave me a sardonic look, head tilted to eye me before he spun to balefully confront another local who'd run into him. Sometimes, I swear the creature was reading my thoughts, as I shrugged beneath my sodden coat before patting his neck offering what comfort I could.
Still, I sympathised with him. I loathed this place, and the people in it. Foul, stinking pretence at humanity in all their devolved glory. Yet documenting their presence on this shithole was my job, and feelings aside, I knew I had to get it finished at the earliest opportunity, and with the minimal risk of detection.
The closely set timber shanties in this travesty of a city might have been labelled “quaint” by someone more charitable, although charity had departed from here a long time ago. The gutter-less eaves sheeted the torrent from above to converge in a veritable flurry down the narrow street's centre, and it was only through brute force that I kept our course to the left of the street, avoiding the worst of the wetting.
My calculations had the population of the place at around four thousand; a so-called duchy ruled by a megalomaniac local land holder, and policed in the broadest sense only by his constabulary, whose obeisance of the rules was limited to whatever the hell they felt they could get away with. Beatings, incarceration, even murder was often given a blind eye by his dukey arsiness, and the people responded to his rule as expected, by being guarded, cynical and just plain unpleasant.
As far as feudal settlements in the area, it was a typical recessive middle-ages shit hole. One I would have avoided like the plague they so richly deserved had circumstances allowed.
Unfortunately, it didn't, and hadn't for some time.
Mores the pity.
It was hard to believe the weather could worsen, yet it did with a suddenness that caught us all out. The soaking, chill rain turned to sleet, pounding mercilessly on those exposed beneath the brooding, low set clouds, and with many a cry, the streets became much less occupied, everyone making for the limited protection offered against the building walls. Even the few prostitutes huddled beneath the vague protection of the narrow building eaves made a beeline for warmer spaces within, and when a whore heads for the hills, you know things are going from bad to desperate.
A whimper from my drake had me patting his neck again in sympathy, but with nowhere else to go, we had no alternative than to plunge on through the storm to our destination, which seemed increasingly distant with every passing moment.
It took another half hour before we reached our goal, the pair of us standing sodden and sullen on the cobbled street bruised and bloodied from the icy storm, and I didn't hesitate pounding a heavy fist on the solid timber door of the inn, the noise barely audible over the cacophony around us. When no immediate reply came, I tried again, giving the wood an additional swift, vicious kick for good measure, which was met by a curse from within as heavy bolts were pushed aside, allowing us to crowd past the startled innkeeper, who swore at the pair of us dripping pools of water onto the tiled floor of the entry way.
“You can't bring that damned beast in here, you idiot!” he shouted in the local equivalent of corrupt Galactic, but a guttural snarl and feral glare from my companion had him, and the other startled occupants of the bar beyond, drop to silence.
Groaning as I shrugged off my coat, I dumped it on a hook on a nearby timber wall peg amongst others where it proceeded to soak all and sundry. Straightening my back with a groan, I muttered “I welcome you to try and evict him, my friend. Good luck with that.”
The drake's eyes narrowed alarmingly as he glared menacingly, stepping closer to the man who made a sudden retreat from his looming presence, gulping and shaking his head frantically.
Sighing, I smiled sardonically. “Good move, I'd say. He won't bother you, or anyone else here, if you return the favour.” Still, he didn't resist as I removed the heavy packs draped across his flank, then handed his reins over to a stable hand, who patted the drake's cheek confidently, and led him out through the rear of the building without a backwards glance.
I caught a muttered grumble about who would clean up the floors, quickly silenced when my lips thinned as he became aware I'd overheard. A false smile replaced the complaint, and he asked me if I wanted a room for the evening.
Nodding, I handed him an entire silver sickle, likely more money than he'd seen in a month, and his demeanour changed completely. A florid gesture waved me to a choice spot beside the fire, where he took my order for a large pint of anything cold and promised to return with food. Cringing inwardly at what that might entail, I gave him further instruction to replace the bedding in the sleeping quarters with fresh straw, refusing to cater to the wide range of parasites likely to infest the mattress from previous occupants, and pulled back the stained timber bench, dropping my gear with a crash onto the floor beside me before absently swinging my sword aside to flop down tiredly onto the hard surface.
I must have been more exhausted than I thought, falling asleep as I did, and given the danger of the situation. I started as a tap on my shoulder woke me from my half doze to spin on the stable hand, who reported with a cheeky grin “He's settled alright, Sir. Near pulled me off my feet as he bolted for the water trough. I kept it warm and all, and he soon tucked into the food. Barley and oats, mainly, although we had a little lucerne left over from spring harvest to give him. He's a good one, isn't he?”
Smiling despite myself at the gushing description of my mount, I nodded absently and said “Yeah, he has his moments, but I can't fault him overall.”
Wiping his nose on his filthy sleeve, he agreed with a snort. “Yar, that he is. Some of 'em get narky, but he let me rub him down, and even let me pet him some. Got a lot of scars though.”
Sighing tiredly, I muttered “Yeah, we both do, kid,” slipping him another silver sickle which had his eyes widen to owl-like proportions. Meeting his awed gaze, I whispered confidentially “Don't let the others see it, alright? But I want you to take good care of him. He's been through hell and back, and deserves at least that much. You can keep the rest, but I expect him properly looked after, whatever it costs.”
A copper followed, the usual fare for such service, and he leaned close to utter conspiratorial “I understand, Sir. I'll promise him a good rest, and watch over him for you, never fear!”
Hoping he was as good as his word, I waved him back to the dark recesses of the building and returned to my moody brooding.
I couldn't give in to the temptation to doze again, regardless how tired I felt. That was asking for a bad case of dead. So, I worried and bade my time, not happy with the delays in my appointment, and by the time my meal arrived I was getting more than a little antsy. Not just from the food, which was an unrecognisable stomach-churning stew whose ingredients were best left to the imagination, but over concern my contact was late. Way too late. Perhaps not unsurprising for most people on this miserable shithole, but I knew him well enough to know that a lack of punctuality could be as much warning sign as simply an unavoidable delay.
Grimacing as I stirred the wooden spoon within its bowl, I still didn't waste the mess, digging in with a reluctant gusto that reflected the lack of fare I'd managed over the preceding weeks. Not a starvation diet by any means, but my stomach hungrily rumbled at the greasy smell from the bowl. The taste was at least more appetising, gristly unidentifiable meat notwithstanding, and I wolfed it down hoping my gut could cope. I'd taken enough precautions in preparation for my mission that I knew I could handle anything but the rankest of meat. Sure, it might not poison me, but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. My taste buds comprehended the difference, and I dreamt of a real, tasty and not rancid meal even as my hand automatically shovelled food down my throat.
I just hope my drake was getting fed better than I was. This stuff was barely digestible. Spitting something indefinable onto the filthy floor beside me, I reassessed my opinion. Hell, it probably wasn't even edible.
I kept one eye peeled on the door as I ate, my increasing nerves sending the small muscles at the side of my eye lid twitching, compounded by every errant noise breaking the muted hum from the surrounding conversation. Thank the Gods the place was relatively deserted, the adverse weather sending those with more brains to their beds rather than to a seedy shit hole like this, and I had a sudden urge to join them, slinking upstairs to whatever flea-infested excuse they had for sleeping quarters.
A trio of brawny, feral looking hulks, likely trappers from the mangy, rank furs draping their shoulders even inside, were holding a hushed discussion at a table in the corner, occasionally breaking the general silence with a bark of coarse laughter that grated in the near empty place. I couldn't quite make out their conversation, which a small part of me was grateful for. Nothing good, I bet, sipping again from my drink and grimacing unconsciously. Probably discussing which of the local she-bear equivalents they'd all poked during winter hibernation. I snorted involuntarily at my wit, and then doubled over as the rank crap I was drinking went down the wrong hole, sending me coughing and spluttering for air.
Apart from a brief glance at my discomfort, the trio ignored my presence, returning to their conversation as I recovered. Once the air again reached my lungs, I gave the tankard a jaded glance, then tipped the remainder onto the floor where it belonged, calling over an again scowling bartender for something more palatable.
The list was discouraging. Apart from the swill I'd already sampled, there was a choice of two ales, a red wine in a hastily-presented dirty, grease smeared bottle, and the “house special”, whatever the fuck that was. The man began a long, rambling discourse of the finer qualities of this home brewed beverage, while absently cleaning a glass on his filthy apron, which did little more than smear grease further over its surface.
Sighing, I interrupted him and said “Does it have a dead rat in it?”
Stumped, he gave me a gaped-mouth look, brain clearly unable to process the randomness of the comment, before shaking his head rather violently. Vehemently, he assured me “No, Sir! We don't have no dead rats in our beer, no sir!”
Rubbing my face tiredly, I said “Well, as the wine list options are exhausted, give me a glass of the stuff without a dead rat in it, then!”
And he did, with not a whisker to be found. Probably unfortunately, as the taste could have benefited from a little seasoning.
I mulled over my drink, taking my time consuming it, which was not for the best as a glass jar of three week old sweat likely was more palatable and fumed inwardly.
Where was the bastard! He knows I hate being kept waiting! Especially in a shit hole like this place! Bar, city and civilization included!
Returning to my moody examination of the room, who's other occupants were as nondescript as their surroundings, I began to compile a mental list of all the other places I'd rather be right then. It was pretty extensive, and included a pit full of vipers, which said a lot as to my current mindset.
I guess it was this distraction added to my general level of fatigue that had me freeze as the far wall of the tavern exploded inward, showering the place with splinters of wood and dust as my drake hurled into our midst, sending the other occupants diving for cover.
He hit the central table first, stumbling as it shattered beneath him, but recovering to lunge over the splintered remains and bounce off the rooms central support beam directly towards my table. I had half risen as his muscled foreleg wrapped itself around my torso, dragging me with him as he again thrust away from the timber bench top, leaving deep gouges in the aged timber as he made a mad leap for the bar. I didn't have time to yell before we slid across the polished timber to crash into the shelves of dusty bottles behind, dropping from view with a snarl and curse accompanied by a deafening shatter of glass.
Strangely enough, that wasn't the most unusual aspect of the entire situation.
No, the volley of laser blasts peppering the place I had been seated moments earlier took the first prize for that!
Cursing, I ignored the screams of the other occupants of the inn, groping beneath my overcoat for my pistol. Which, for some unfathomable reason, wasn't there! Shit, I swore again, louder this time as I frantically checking my concealed holster, but it remained depressingly empty. Oblivious to the explosions rocking the structure, I fumbled on the floor around me, slicing fingers on the splintered shards as I searched frantically for the weapon.
With a shocking suddenness the firing paused, replaced with a guttural hiss of alien conversation as the intruders from the building's semi-demolished rear stepped into the room. I postponed my search, using the break to peer clandestinely around the bar edge to confirm my worst fears; Seekers! Scaly arsed lizard fucking bounty hunters! Here? Now? Only I could be this damned unlucky!
And, of course, there on the floor beside the remains of my overturned, presently flaming table was my blaster, blissfully ignorant of my present desperate plight a dozen feet away.
Lizard eyes continued to peer into the smoky gloom, so I ducked back to avoid their attention, unfortunately a moment too late. With a curse, one of them spotted me, gesturing to its fellows towards my shelter. The four of them brought up their weapons, commencing fire on the timber bar, which immediately began heavily smoking, adding to the general chaos in the place.
Thankfully, the layer of filth coating it masked a solid thickness beneath that, at least temporarily, prevented the blasts penetrating through to us. With the amount of firepower directed our way, I knew it wasn't going to hold for long, so I began grasping desperately beneath my clothing for something, anything that might be useful in retaliating.
Nothing. Not a fucking thing, apart from the sword, which was about as useless as a bucket of armpits in my present situation.
Everything was in my pack, which was half a room away accompanying my spilt tankard.
Might as well be an eternity of distance between us.
Groaning, I leaned back, shutting my eyes for just a moment and wondering how the hell I had gotten this far into the shit. Forget how I was going to get out of it; that was a pipe dream, and I knew it.
All of a sudden, choking on a rat infused beer seemed pretty damned enticing.
Then something sharp tapped me on the shoulder.
Startled, my eyes flew open to regard the hunkered down drake beside me, whom I'd momentarily forgotten in my plight. Confused, my eyes drew wide as he reached down a paw and offer a small, round metallic sphere, glinting red in the firelight, before dropping the object into my trembling fingers.
A grenade?
What the fuck...?
A grenade!
At my incredulous look, my mount shrugged non-committal, wincing as more blasted splinters peppered his hide. This gave me time to recover my jaw, which had slapped down hard onto my chest as I gaped at his unfathomable action.
But time wasn't on my side. I couldn't process this right now!
Where had he got it?
More perplexing, where'd he been keeping it all this time?
Fuck!! Ignore that! I had to act!
After all, I had a death fight to win.
Fumbling for the safety, I triggered the arming sequence, and then tossed it over my shoulder to clear the counter top. Even as I waited for the inevitable, the drake met my eyes, a fleeting smirk crossing his muzzle as I mouthed “We're gonna have a long talk later...”
I missed his nod as a shriek rose from my pursuers, followed by a deafening concussion as the explosion obliterated the Seekers, along with a large section of the far end of the building which collapsed on the group, burying them beneath.
As silence slowly returned, I poked my head up, cautiously looking for any remaining enemy, and ignoring the freaking babble from the other bar occupants, who seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed. With much of the far end of the place reduced to rubble, I sighed, stepping from cover to recover my blaster, absently slipping it back into its holster as the drake approached from behind, not meeting my gaze until I rested a hand on his shoulder and said “For what it's worth, thanks...”
He nodded again, head suddenly rising as another snarl crept from his lips, his eyes intent on the darkness outside now exposed through the shattered wall.
Sighing, I knew we had to go, right now. My contact was likely long dead, and the Seekers undoubtedly had backup. Shit, they always had backup, and there was a limit to my tactical abilities in the face of overwhelming odds, regardless of my reputation.
Better to skidoo while the going was good, and our breathing continued.
Grabbing what gear I could, I swept on my still damp fur coat, stepped over the unconscious form of the tavern owner and, after giving the stunned stable hand a reassuring wink, with the drake pacing beside me we vanished back into the heavy night rain outside.
______________________________________
Author's note:
Been a long time, I know. Sorry about that.
Year hasn't been what I would have wished for, and life intruded in too many ways.
But 2017 is a new year, and a new beginning, for a new, New Worlds story.
Not associated directly with part 1 and 2, but... Well, you'll see.
Anyway, Happy Xmas, and let's hope for the sake of us all, a better New Year.