Champions Vol. 01

David thought about the mission plan. His team had been out of contact for over four hours, and their route was well known. By now aircraft should have been sent to find them, and had certainly seen their position. The QRF that responded to the attack on the lower OP should have already made it to his position. Where the hell are they? Did they get held up? Maybe the attack on the lower OP was bigger than I thought, David thought to himself. They don't even know I survived.

Realizing he needed more information, he decided to return to the lower OP and try to pick up a signal on one of the smaller MBITR radios as he got closer. He wouldn't go all the way in - he had no idea what he would walk into if he did - but he had to get close enough for radio range at least. He gathered what he would need to move back to the lower OP. He knew after six months in country most insurgent contact was at five hundred meters or greater. Before today he doubted there had been a firefight inside three hundred in years. Looking at his M4 and M9 he realized he was carrying the wrong weapons for a lone soldier strolling through the hills of Afghanistan. He needed more range.

He looked over at Mother and Bragg. Bragg's M14 was deformed from the explosion, the scope shattered. Mother's rifle was a better choice. David had qualified with that exact rifle not two months ago. He picked it up, pulling back the operating rod and opening the breach. There was a round chambered, and the bolt moved smoothly. Closing the breach he hit the magazine release and checked the mag. It was mostly full. Pocketing it, he pulled a fresh mag from one of Mother's front vest pouches, and loaded it into the rifle. Mostly full wasn't full, and a full mag was how he was going to start this walk. Looking back at Mother and Bragg, he debated whether the M14 and two mags were enough. He doubted it. Then again he didn't exactly want to haul any more weight. His rucksack was too damn heavy as it was.

Casting his eyes towards the bane of his existence, he realized it didn't need to be that heavy. Pulling it toward him, he opened it and tossed out the PRC-117F radio with the bullet hole through it, and the eight spare 5590 batteries inside. Then he tossed all the food and water out of his bag, keeping two water bottles and two MREs. That was about forty pounds he didn't need any more. Besides, he still had three quarts of water in his Camelbak®.

Next he looked at the gear and equipment resting on the ground around him and his team. He needed to replace his M67 fragmentation grenade, and more ammo for the M14 was a priority too. Replacing his missing frag with SSG England's, he thought about the Mk 48. It was a dominant weapons system on the battlefield, but the 7.62mm linked ammo for it was extremely heavy and he wasn't sure how many rounds were left. Epps had been firing it pretty heavily when he went down.

Deciding it couldn't hurt to check; he picked up the weapon from beside Epps' body, and immediately noticed there was no ammo in it. Flipping up the feed tray, he racked the charging handle on the side and slid the bolt back to inspect the firing chamber. Everything looked good, just out of ammo. Setting the weapon down, he crouched over SSG England's rucksack and opened it.

On the very top lay twelve 7.62mm link 100 round ammo belts in tight rolls. Damn, he thought to himself, Pappy over packed too. Pulling out four, he decided to load one into the Mk 48 and carry it. He also grabbed ten M14 mags from Mother and Bragg, and the six M4 mags in Epps' chest pouches. He realized that the weight didn't balance out; when he loaded the extra linked ammo rolls and magazines in his rucksack. He was carrying more than he had before, but he was also going downhill now. He would rather have too much ammo, than run out now that it was just him. Thinking of this, he grabbed the last three frag grenades off of Mother, Bragg, and Epps, stowing them in his trouser pockets. Then he grabbed Epps' and Mother's M9s as well, tossing one in his ruck and tucking the other into the side of his IOTV. Lastly, he strapped his M4 and Mother's M14 to the top of his rucksack. Now he could suppress any enemy he came upon with the Mk 48 initially, then drop behind cover and switch weapons if he had to.

Thinking about his past briefings and responsibilities, he did his final duty for his team. Going from teammate to teammate, he pulled one of their two dog tags off the chain hanging around each one's neck; then he pulled the blood chit each one carried from their left sleeve pocket; and finally he removed their helmets, connecting the small Firefly strobe and 9V batteries that each one wore on the back. The strobes would light up like signal flares to any passing aircraft with night vision.

Wishing he could do more, and hoping a recovery team would come soon, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper from his field notebook, and scrawled a quick message in case his team was found by friendly forces before he was. Tucking it into the top of Mother's IOTV, he stood up and saluted his fallen team, unsure if he would live long enough to get another chance to do so. Then he grabbed up his friend's MBITR radio, his rucksack, and the Mk 48.

He was as ready as he could think of to reconnect with US Forces, and get the bodies of his team back in Army hands. After a moment of consideration, he reached behind his head to the back of his own helmet, and connected his Firefly and 9V. Just in case.

As he walked back along the trail leading down the mountain he started to feel tremors under his feet. They weren't that far from the Hindu Kush Mountains, and earthquakes were rare but not unheard of. He had been woken up by a 5.0 a few weeks ago. Looking around, he noticed that the loose gravel on the steep side of the trail was beginning to spill down the mountainside. He also spotted an area about 200 feet ahead where the trail widened, and looked like his best bet to ride out the quake.

Picking up his pace, David jogged the distance to the area he had seen. The tremors were getting more violent, and loose rocks were now tumbling around him. Putting his head forward, he broke into a full sprint just a brilliant flash of light sparkled before his eyes, and the ground seemed to disappear from under his feet. He was blinded and falling, probably down the mountainside. I doubt I'll live through this one, was his last conscious thought before his body slammed to the ground, and his heavily traumatized head struck a large rock.

All of these events escaped the notice of anyone in the area, for the tremors were not deep cast off's of the Hindu Kush Mountains' tectonic activity. They were the reactions of a world absent magic for millennia, reacting to its presence once more. Had anyone been looking in David's direction, they would have seen an Army soldier sprinting full out into a glowing white oval that had blinked into being inches before him, and blinked back out immediately after with him.

*** Chapter 4: Unforeseen Encounters ***

Same Day, Same Time, Different Place

Snow Gap Pass, Erosius

Laurena was bored. She shouldn't be bored; she was traveling through the Abatinus Mountains, officially on her way to help open the new Temple of Eros in the port city of Calavius. But unofficially she was on a mission for her god. Eros had appeared in the dreams of a few of his faithful across the land three nights ago, to tell them of the coming of a new Champion. The Champion was to be sought out and escorted to the Field of Woe, site of the Great Battle that had changed everything in Eros' realm.

Every chosen guide was given a mental image of this Champion, dressed in strange clothing and carrying even stranger equipment. But none knew his name, or where he would arrive. So they were all searching the land for him. But after three days of expecting to find him around every bend in the trail, behind every tree, or beneath every rock, Laurena was well and truly bored. She assumed that one of the other chosen would find the Champion. After all, she was a mere acolyte of Eros, not even experienced enough to lead worship services in a temple.

At this thought she felt a flush of heat and tightness in her feminine core. She had been on the road for nearly a week, and the last town she had stopped in did not have a temple at all. Only clergy members of at least priest/priestess rank could hold a worship service, and so far she had failed to achieve that rank. Her body was aching from the lack of attention.

Sighing at the circumstances that led to her sexual frustration, she tried to distract herself with thoughts of her route ahead. It was at least another day and a half of travel to the nearest town on her route, Wolfsvale. Sitting at the southern tip of the Dracian Forest, where the road west to Calavius split from the road south to Lexia, it was a moderately sized town.

Laurena had never visited it, but her mentor at The Great Temple in Sanctuary Port, Aurelia, had instructed her to stop in at the temple in the small town and call upon an old friend. Apparently the old priest that tended to the small town's temple had once been a teacher at The Great Temple, before leaving decades earlier. Laurena had never met Astinus, but she had heard his name spoken of with reverence by her mentor on more than one occasion. She just hoped he would allow her to join the main worship service. Her body needed the fulfillment of divine worship in the worst possible way.

Distracted by her overactive libido once again, she failed to notice the loose rocks in her horse's path until it stumbled. Cursing her distraction, and apparent ill luck, she attempted to steer the horse toward more stable footing. Unfortunately, the trail was narrow, and the horse began to panic as the ground caved beneath its foreleg, and it started slipping down the steep mountainside. Panicking, Laurena threw herself from the saddle, away from the steep fall. No longer trying to balance the extra weight, the horse regained its footing, and cantered a few hundred yards down the trail to where it widened.

Regaining her feet, Laurena began dusting herself off, and inspected her robes to determine the damage done by her fall to the dirt. Shaking her head in exasperation and dismay, she noticed her once pristine white robes were now soiled with dirt. Moving her hands to her hair, she felt a few tangles that had occurred during the tumble. This wouldn't do at all.

Focusing her will, she chanted one of her favorite spells. A large sheet of mirrored glass formed in the air before her. Using its reflective surface to survey the damage to her hair and robes, she maintained the focus of her will and began chanting again. First her hair untangled, and all of the dirt and dust from the day's travels disappeared. Next she focused her attentions to her robes, and cleaned them of the dirt from the fall, as well as the accumulated dust of the day. Checking her reflection, she inspected her work to make sure that her appearance was once again immaculate. Now certain that even the smallest speck of dust had been banished from her form, she did a final inspection of that form; since reflecting on her own beauty always brightened her mood.

At five and a half feet, she was a few inches above the average height for a woman of Erosius. But that little extra helped her D-cup breasts fit her frame. Too many women she knew with large breasts looked disproportionate or top-heavy. But her chest was perfect for her frame. When combined with her narrow waist, full hips, smooth thighs, and tight rear-end; hour-glasses wished they looked like her. But if her body was perfect (and she knew it was) then her face was beyond that ineffectual descriptor. Long, honey-colored, silken locks framed a heart shaped face that was flawless. High cheekbones, pouty lips, and two cheeks with barely perceptible dimples all combined with her piercing blue eyes and sun-kissed skin to steal the breath from any fool fortunate enough to gaze upon her.

She was the very incarnation of beauty, and the favored acolyte during every worship service at The Great Temple since she had come of age two winters previously. Taking one last look at her reflection, she whispered a quick banishment chant and released the mirror's elements back to the earth. Turning toward where her horse stood on the trail, she walked carefully to it, making sure the hem of her robes didn't accumulate any more dirt during the short walk.

"Come on Meadowgrass," she spoke soothingly as she approached her horse. "We have a long way to go before we are through the pass, and I have no desire to spend the night in these dreary mountains."

Responding with a flick of his ears, Meadowgrass took a nervous step further away from the steep edge of the trail.

Shaking her radiant head in annoyance at her skittish horse, Laurena continued to coax it with a soothing voice as she drew closer. "Come on you big stupid horsey, I know you don't want to be here anymore than I do. So how about you let me climb back on, and we get down this mountain?"

Either Meadowgrass chose not to take insult at her slights, or he simply did not understand her words, because she was able to re-mount her horse without incident. Taking the reins in hand she turned him back along the trail southwest, hoping to get down the mountain and into the foothills before twilight set.

***

Three hours later she was nearing the end of the mountain pass and could see the beginning of the foothills at the edge of the Dracian Forest. Up ahead she saw a lone traveler coming her way. The man was wearing a heavy traveling cloak, carrying a worn walking stick, and strolling up the path at a leisurely pace. She was a bit surprised at this, for the day was growing long, and there were few decent (and no comfortable) places to make camp along the trail behind her. As she drew closer to him, she noticed his traveling cloak was of rather nice quality, but had a handful of poorly stitched tears in it.

"A pleasant evening to you good lady," the man greeted Laurena. "How do your travels find you this day?"

"I am well sir. On my way to the port city of Calavius for the opening of the new temple there," she responded politely, and a bit proudly.

Halting his walk a few feet in front of her horse, the man took a closer look at her white robed form. "A priestess of Eros, eh? It has been a few seasons since I attended a service, and none were ever held by someone of your beauty."

Laurena flushed with both greater pride and a small amount of shame at his comment. She knew full well she was the most beautiful woman in all of Sanctuary Port, the largest city in all Erosius. But at twenty winters, she was also one of the oldest acolytes in the clergy. Twice she had taken the tests to elevate her station to priestess, and twice she had failed.

"I am sorry good sir, both to hear of how long you have gone without Eros' Blessings, and for your misunderstanding of my status. I am only an acolyte of Eros, and have not yet taken my priestess vows," she admitted with some shame. She wished she could have avoided the conversation, but she could not falsely claim to be a priestess. Priests and priestesses were given divine mandates by Eros, to spread his love throughout the land. They did this in many ways, but the best known were the Blessings of Eros bestowed during worship services at temples (and occasionally by traveling clergy) and the Healing of Eros, curing the sick and injured as proof that Eros held all life precious. Laurena had not developed the strength of her magic enough to heal more than minor cuts and burns, so she could not pass the tests to become a priestess.

"I see now. So if you are not a priestess, my dear, then you cannot lead a service for me and some friends?" he asked, obviously hoping he was wrong.

"I am sorry sir, but I am forbidden from rendering the Blessings of Eros without the supervision of a full member of the clergy," she explained to him with regret in her voice. "I plan to stop in Wolfsvale in two days, and participate in the services there under the supervision of the temple priest if you are able to adjust your travels."

Before she had even finished her words, the man was shaking his head in dismay. "Alas my dear, my companions and I will not be traveling near Wolfsvale any time soon. In fact, we are not allowed near the town at all, under penalty of servitude."

At this he swung his walking stick into the nearest rock, striking it with a sharp crack three times. Immediately Laurena heard movement amongst the rocks to her left, up the steep but navigable mountainside next to the trail. Four men with weapons and mismatched leather armor had sprung from concealed positions, and were hurrying down the slope toward her. Intending to flee, she kicked her horse in the flanks before she had even returned her gaze to the trail ahead. Whinnying in pain, her horse reared slightly, but did not move forward. Looking for the cause of Meadowgrass's reticence, she saw that the man had thrown off his traveling cloak and was holding her horse's reigns in one hand. He was dressed in similar, but slightly better quality leather armor, and was now holding his walking stick like a club in his other hand.

"Get down, my dear. We have no wish to harm you," said in a calm voice. "My men and I will relieve you of your horse and your belongings, and send you safely on your way."

Outnumbered and terrified, Laurena climbed fearfully from her mount, taking three rapid steps away from the bandit and toward the steep side of the trail.

"Please sir," she begged him. "Without food or my horse I will not survive the journey to Wolfsvale. Can I have just a few of my supplies, and my warm cloak?"

As she pleaded with him for this small mercy, the other four bandits arrived and surrounded them.

"Bloody Hell, Broast! Look at dem tits! We can feed 'er and keep 'er warm for da night," the dirtiest and smelliest of the men said, addressing the smooth talker holding her horse's reins while leering at Laurena. "And she can 'elp keep us warm tonight."

Laurena shuddered at his statements. Sex for the clergy was a holy act, the blessing of her god to be granted to his faithful. It was not something that should be torn from the unwilling, and she was very unwilling to sleep with any of these men, even if she had been a priestess. She lowered her gaze to her feet, shaking her hair forward to hopefully cover some of her ample charms.

"That sounds like a fair trade Dahlmer. What say you my dear? Care to make an exception for us and grant a night of Eros' Blessings to myself and the lads?" Broast inquired of her with both his words and a hungry gaze.

Shaking her head, Laurena steeled her spine and raised her gaze. "I would not lay with any of you vagabonds even if my faith permitted it. Eros' Blessing is to aid the worship of the faithful, not satisfy the carnal urges of heathen scum! You blaspheme my god by suggesting otherwise." She trembled in fear at the outrage in her voice, knowing her words would provoke them. She wished she could take them back, but it seared her soul to hear anyone speak such words about Eros' divine love.

His gaze hardening cruelly, Broast shook his head in slow anger. "Then save your worthless Blessings, whore. We shall take our comfort from your body; and when we finally tire, we shall cast you from our sight to whatever fate your precious Eros deems worthy."

Hearing his words, and knowing with certain fear what her fate at these men's hands would be, she tried to break out of their restricting encirclement. She charged the man standing between her and the freedom of the trail to Wolfsvale, pushing him nearly off the cliff. He caught himself at the last moment, but was unable to slow her. She ran as fast as she knew how, cursing as her flowing robes began to tangle in her legs, slowing her path to freedom.