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| Durant's Yellow Jackets |
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| Episode Four: The City of the Lost |
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| Part One of Two Heinz blinked his eyes, but all he saw was a bright green blur. He shook his head and blinked again. Still the world seemed reluctant to come into focus. When he tried to turn his head, a sharp pain flashed in his neck. The pain alerted him to other aches in his arms and legs. Heinz tried to move his arms, but they were pinned firmly to his back. After further attempts, he realised his legs were also tied together. “Well,” he muttered. “Looks like I’m trapped.” “Heinz?” came a voice, close to Heinz, though in his blurred vision, everything seemed pressed in upon him. “Heinz is that you?” The voice sounded familiar, but Heinz’s addled mind took much longer than usual to recognise the voice’s owner. “Yeah, it’s me,” ventured Heinz. “Where in Sigmar’s name are we?” “You don’t remember?” “To be honest, no. I don’t remember anything much before I woke up in the green blur.” Heinz felt something knocking into his back. “Is that you?” “Yeah. We’re tied up pretty tightly, eh?” “And who are we exactly? Or, should I say, who are you?” “It’s me, Wilhelm,” came the voice again. The name definitely sounded familiar to Heinz, but all that came into his confused mind was of someone being repeatedly cuffed over the head by a one-eyed giant. “You really don’t remember how we got here?” “Would you care to enlighten me?” “Well, Heinz, it turned out Arbach didn’t do such a great job in fixing those magic coins of his…” “What do you mean they’re not here?” asked Durant with a growl. “They were standing right next to me.” “It’s true cap’n,” said Karl. “Everyone else is here, but no sign of those Heinz or Wilhelm. No tracks, no equipment, they’re just not here.” Durant’s eyes blazed furiously, he wanted to get his hand on Arbach’s neck and squeeze tightly. If Arbach’s mistake had cost Durant his son, then the merchant would pay a steep price. “What should we do cap’n, do you want us to search the jungle?” Karl looked at Durant expectantly. The captain of the Yellow Jackets could feel all of his men waiting for an order. He knew that they would follow an order to search for his missing son. The father in him screamed out to give the order, tell them not to rest until Wilhelm and Heinz were found. Yet the soldier within him knew such a search was destined to be fruitless, and asking for trouble. Deep in the heart of the jungle, in unfamiliar and decidedly hostile territory, it would be foolish to expect his men to search for two missing comrades. He would grieve in time, but for the present, Durant had eleven others to lead, and a mission to accomplish. He rubbed his shoulder, it still ached from the wound inflicted two months before. Durant had seen men die from far worse injuries, so he had accepted that at least with the pain, he knew he was still alive. The heat in the jungle was oppressive, and judging from Arbach’s instructions, the Yellow Jackets had a long way to travel. “No sense in waiting around any longer,” he said finally. “Come on lads, it’s this way.” Durant struck out on what could be charitably described as a trail, his sword drawn. He had constant need to hack his way through the dense undergrowth, swatting at unseen insects that gathered around the mercenary band. The calls and screeches of unfamiliar animals marked the passage of the company, most of them silent out of respect for their two lost comrades. The jungle canopy was low, making the heat and humidity even worse for the mercenaries. Durant had instructed Karl and Torval to keep an eye on the amount of water the men drank. The last thing he wanted was someone using up their canteen in one draught, then facing the rest of the journey with nothing to sustain them. Karl had already needed to warn Jarius, who had been gulping down his supply early on. A stern lecture from Karl had taught the young man from Ostermark better. The company seemed a lot quieter than usual to Durant. A sense of foreboding had replaced Wilhelm’ s relentlessly upbeat attitude. No-one asked ridiculous questions, no-one needed a hefty whack on the head to keep them in check. Despite his youth and inexperience, Wilhelm was finally starting to prove his worth to the Yellow Jackets. The initial grumbles about nepotism and favourable treatment had begun to give way to a grudging respect and a sense that Wilhelm deserved his position. Now he was gone. “Captain, you should see this,” said Torval, who had taken point. Durant cleared his mind of others thoughts and went to the front of the group. He found Torval crouching down near a tangled heap of vines. Torval cut away some of the vines, revealing a cracked stone platform beneath. After Torval managed to free most of the stone, Durant could make out some carved inscriptions. The weather- beaten pattern was intricate, the meaning indecipherable for anyone in the company. Yet Durant suspected it had not been created by human hands. “Have you any idea who carved this captain?” asked Torval, tracing the delicate carving with his fingers. Durant leaned in closer. The pictographs seemed vaguely familiar, like something he had seen in a book long ago. “I’m not sure Torval,” said Durant finally. “But I think we’re on the outskirts of the Lost City.” “Lost City?” asked Torval. Durant pushed the vines further back, revealing some more pictographs, and realised that taken together, they formed the plan of a city. Wide avenues, pictures of stepped pyramids and ponds. Durant noted an image of the sun. He looked around at the few rays of light spilling through the canopy, trying to work out the orientation of the map. Finally, Durant pointed to one of the smaller avenues. “Is that where we are?” “If I could actually see the sun itself, we might know for sure,” said Durant. “As it is, I reckon that’s close enough.” Durant looked around, but thick walls of jungle surrounded them to either side of the narrow trail. They had little choice but to press on. “Come on, we’d best-” Durant was cut short by an agonised scream. “Help me!” Durant and Torval turned immediately towards the sound. They saw Jakob running towards them, his face alive with fear. “Captain, the jungle, it took Jarius!” shouted Jakob. “This way.” Durant and Torval followed Jakob to a clearing, barely half a dozen yards across. The rest of the Yellow Jackets were hacking a slashing wildly. Suddenly Durant saw what they were fighting against. A thick blue-green stem spread out into two bright red flower heads. Only instead of being full of petals, the two-foot wide heads were all teeth. The whole plant stood some ten feet tall. To Durant’s horror, one of the heads had a muddy pair of boots protruding from its sightless mouth. Karl and the others were desperately trying to cut the plant down, to free Jarius, but they were forced to avoid the snapping lunges of the second mouth. As he closed the distance, Durant realised he could still hear the pitiful, muffled cries coming from the slowly digesting Jarius. “Move back,” ordered Durant. He pulled out his brace of pistols, and took aim at the snapper plant’s stem. With a crack and a puff of smoke, he unloaded both barrels into the abomination. The hairy hide of the plant exploded under the volley, spreading sap and half-digested meals over the jungle floor. With a defiant spasm, the two heads of the plant collapsed onto the ground. Karl quickly brought his flail down on the other head, while Torval and Franck attempted to free Jarius. Torval let out a gasp as the plant’s scarlet head was torn open, and Jarius’ lifeless eyes stared back at him. The skin from his face had been eaten away by the powerful digestive acids in the plant’s mouth. The stench was unbearable, made worse by the sultry atmosphere. A cloud of flies the size of Torval’s hands descended upon the body. Torval moved back and looked at Durant, who shook his head. “There’s nothing we could’ve done,” Durant said softly. “Best we can do is give Jarius a proper send off.” Durant took a covered torch from his pack. He held the torch next to his pistol’s flintlock, and set it alight. Karl upended a small flask of spirits over Jarius’ body. The flies buzzed at him angrily but continued to attack the body. “May Morr guide you home lad,” said Karl, as Durant touched the torch to the pool of spirits. The mercenaries stood back and watched as the flames engulfed their fallen comrade. It was growing dark, and the noise of the jungle began to pick up. Durant ordered the men to push on, hoping to find some higher ground. Partly this was to gain his bearings, and partly to keep the company as far from the deadly jungle as possible. After an hour’s sullen march, Franck pointed out a looming dark tower. One of the step pyramids from the pictograph plan, Durant surmised. “Probably full of beasties,” Durant said. “Still, I’d much prefer to see them coming, rather than fight these damn killer plants any day.” If it was meant as a joke, few laughed. Most of the Yellow Jackets were completely exhausted, and just eager for a chance to rest. They had already lost three comrades to the jungle, and a palpable sense of fear hung heavy over the company. Who would be the next to perish? Heinz looked up and saw stars overhead. He was glad he could see again, that he could focus on individual points of light in the black above him. Yet despite the return of his sight, he couldn’t help but feel cheated by the rest of his surroundings. As far as he could tell, with Wilhelm’s helpful (and not so helpful) observations, they were bound, hand and foot in a cage made of vines four inches thick. The memories of what life had been like before their imprisonment had haltingly returned to him. He remembered the backroom of The Flying Pig, the gathering of the Yellow Jackets, Captain Durant’s customary brevity in explaining both their mission and where they would undertake it. The jungle. That was what Captain Durant had said, just prior to the invocation of displacement, and the flash of the transportation coin. That was the last memory prior to the cage. Somehow, only Wilhelm and Heinz himself had survived whatever magical accident had befallen them. But, Heinz though sadly, it didn’t look like they had arrived all that safely. Whoever had taken them prisoner hadn’t made their intentions clear, but, judging from the cage, the binding and the distant drone of chanting, the omens were not good. “What I wouldn’t gibe for my pistols right about now,” said Wilhelm. Heinz turned his head so that he could almost look straight at his companion. “I’m sure they’d make quick work of this cage.” “No doubt they would, as I’m sure my new Hochland long rifle would too. Unfortunately, I don’t think wishing is going to bring them to us.” “I suppose not.” Several moments passed in silence. “So what’s the plan Heinz?” Heinz rolled his head away. “We wait here until whoever captured us comes back, then we let them take us and kill us.” “You really think they’re going to kill us?” “Wilhelm, we show up unexpected in the middle of a strange jungle, full to bursting point with hostile natives and equally hostile flora, and you don’t think they’d be just a little ticked off?” “Well sure, but-” “Most likely they’ll want to sacrifice us to some heathen god.” “Oh.” A moment of quiet. “But surely we’re not going to let them just gut us for their god’s pleasure? Are we?” “Well,” continued Heinz. “In case you haven’t noticed, there are only two of us. And, may I also point out, the two of us have no weapons. And, for a third thing, we’re tied up!” Heinz realised his voice had become much louder than he’d hoped. Before Wilhelm had the chance to offer his plan, the pair of mercenaries heard a scraping sound. A few seconds later, a small, humanoid lizard appeared at the side of the cage. To Wilhelm and Heinz’s great surprise, the lizard spoke Reikspiel, albeit with a heavily distorted accent that made Wilhelm grind his teeth in discomfort. “You men s-should be s-silent,” said the lizard, its beady eyes darting rapidly between the two prisoners. Its pink forked tongue flicked in and out of its bulbous green lips. “We will come for you s- soon.” And with a final dart of the eyes, the Skink was gone. Wilhelm looked over at Heinz. “Well, that’s some consolation I think,” he said. “At least they’re not going to just leave us here to rot.” |
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| Part Two |
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