“I will,” Calvin said. “My guys need to take this one back for questioning, but I can help you out.” He would much rather these mercenaries didn’t disturb the farmhouse, but he expected they’d find it eventually if they were tracking the other cultists. As it stood, the best thing he could do was extend them some help. That would give him the chance to analyze their fighting abilities. These could very well be his first recruits for the mission to kill Waska.
“Stupendous!” the knight said, clapping Calvin on the back. Calvin handed off the captive to his crew and went back to the farmhouse with the mercenaries.
“You got a name, stranger?” the archer asked.
“A few,” Calvin said. “You can call me Calvin.”
She sniffed. “If that’s how you want it. I’m Shale. This buffoon is Julius,” she said, gesturing to the knight. “The other is Arg.”
“Argonemius Dawn Mugorium,” the surprisingly articulate wild man corrected. “First of his name.”
“Arg for short,” Julius said. “Anyway, if we get into a scuffle with these—”
“What do you mean ‘if,’ Julius?” Arg asked. “There better be a lot more than a scuffle.”
“Yes, well.” Julius sighed. “The point is, if you get hurt, I can help you out. The blessing of Réalt will heal you right up.”
“Oh, no thank you,” Calvin said. “Please don’t worry about healing me. I’ll be fine.”
Julius laughed. “You’ll think differently if you’re bleeding to death, I’m sure.”
Calvin shook his head. “I won’t, I assure you.”
Shale threw him a sideways glance. “You undead or something? Nobody’s refused healing before.”
“No, it’s actually an infernal curse that makes divine healing hurt me more. So please don’t.”
“Oho!” Julius said. “That’s why you’re after the cult, isn’t it? You think going after them will help break your curse?”
Calvin nodded. “That’s the hope. Hold on.” He raised a hand for them to stop. They didn’t stop immediately, but he cut them some slack. They weren’t used to following his orders yet. They raised eyebrows at him. He pointed at the farmhouse. A soft glow of candlelight flickered from one of the windows. “I think that’s it.”
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Shale nodded. “The drag marks lead to that cellar door.”
“I can get it open,” Calvin said. “You guys—”
Arg hefted his axe. “The time has come to bash in some cultist heads. Aaaaaarg!” He ran at the front door and smashed it open. Julius followed him inside. Shale ran up to the door, shot two arrows, then pulled back to take cover behind the door frame. Calvin was a little put off, but he rushed after them anyway. One cultist was already dead. Another had two arrows in him, and Arg was rushing at him. The last one was engaged in swordplay with Julius and sported a wound in his side. Calvin pulled out a knife, darted up behind the last one, and sank his knife into the cultist’s back. Arg finished off the one who’d been shot, and the “scuffle” was over.
“At least I got three swings in this time,” Arg said.
“That’s the spirit, Arg.” Julius clapped Arg on the back. “And I expect you’ll get more opportunities soon, yes?” He smiled at Calvin.
“You want in on that job?” Calvin asked.
“Most definitely. When do we leave?”
“There’s still a lot of preparation to do. Meet me at the Rusty Wheel Inn next week. I’ll have more details then.”
Arg wrinkled his nose, showing short tusks jutting from his lower jaw. “That’s a long time to wait for crushing more cultists.”
“Yes, but there will be a lot of them. Even after I do more recruiting, they’ll outnumber us for sure.”
Arg smiled. “Then I shall be there.”
“Are you guys gonna stand around talking all night,” Shale asked, “or are we actually going to rescue the captives?”
“She’s right,” Calvin said. “You guys go do that. I’m going to have a look around. See if I can find any information about their main base.”
The mercenaries went downstairs, and Calvin combed through the farmhouse for anything related to the Hark’akuy. He didn’t find any maps or rosters, but he hadn’t expected that. The only piece of information he found was a note one of the cultists had written himself about their deadline and the quota.
Waska wants seven for his first-quarter contact ritual. Be a day early.
The moon will be at first quarter in three days, Calvin thought. That means they’ll miss this group of cultists in two. Their failure to return would make the Hark’akuy wary, but there was no reason for them to suspect Tikray. In fact, the smashed door was a distinctly un-Tikray thing to do. They would probably assume the team had attracted the attention of adventurers and been outmatched. Which is basically what happened.
Calvin only found one other thing, but it was much more significant. In a kitchen cupboard, hiding behind a bag of grain, he found a small jar filled halfway with Hark’akuy venom. He grinned. This was a treasure that would cut their prep time enormously. He peeked into the basement to make sure the mercenaries had gone, then pulled on a pair of protective leather gloves. He could cut more prep time by harvesting the venom from the Hark’akuy corpses. He slipped out his knife and got to work.