by Lee LaCroix
“What did she want?” Kayten asked as Ayden came back in the kitchen.
“Nothing. She’s dead,” Ayden replied with blunt words and reddened eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ayden. I am,” Kayten said as she moved forward and embraced him in a hug, “I lost my father to evil men. I hope he rests well now knowing those men have been slain,”
“Will that really help them?” Ayden said, holding Kayten at arm’s length.
“I don’t know. It helped me, and that allowed me to help others,” Kayten explained.
Ayden nodded, turned away, and began to look through the pantries for food.
“There’s someone coming. Two people,” Ilsa called from her seat near the door.
Ayden could hear the chair squeak as Ilsa stood up, and he entered the front room. After several knocks at the door, Ilsa opened it to reveal a man and a woman who bowed in greeting.
“Hello. You must be a relative of Ravol. You look just like him. I am Nyr. This is my wife, Kiggi,” the man introduced and stepped in the door.
His wife collected the offerings outside of the door of mostly desert flowers with spiny stems and thin leaves of many colours. She brought the rainbow bouquet inside as she followed her husband and placed it upon the mantle on the fireplace. Ayden recognized the man as one from the gathering crowd the night before.
“Yes, I am Ayden. I’m afraid to say Ravol’s mother passed away in the night from grief,” Ayden lamented with a lowered head.
“That is terrible. Tisk, tisk,” Kiggi spoke.
“Indeed, it is a great loss to see that family gone. I myself worked with Ravol in the market. We helped load, move, and deliver many goods. He was a good man, and I will miss him. I have come to pay my respects and see that many have as well,” Nyr explained.
“That is all very good, but it does not help me. Visit their graves if you wish to mourn because the only words I wish to hear are of vengeance,” Ayden told them as his voice quavered.
Kiggi stared at the man, and Nyr nodded.
“Yes, yes, that is understandable. We all have feared that this would happen. The Vandari are so relentless. This occupation is hurting us all, from the workers to the merchants to the everyday people. Their presence has gone way past inconvenience now. There are whispers, careful whispers, that something must be done about the Order. But the Kal’reth are travelers. We combat against the sun and sand, not sword and steel. That is why we have come here,” Nyr replied as he gave Ilsa a look up and down, studying the dark scales of her armour.
“Could you gather them here? All that would stand with us?” Ayden piped up.
“Yes, there are many. We will come,” Nyr stated and bowed low.
Noon shortly passed, and Nyr and Kiggi had gone on their way, leaving the three to bury Ayden’s Oma and then make their way into the city. Ayden had been practicing a phrase with Ilsa, two simple words which would help them in their plans ahead. Kayten poked her hooded head around the corner of a house on the main street and watched for the guards. Ilsa repeated the words back to Ayden, and he smiled and nodded. Kayten signaled the two and she ran past them down the length of the alley, hiding behind a corner.
“Guards! Help!” Ilsa screamed in Vandarian as she noticed the guards walking by.
The two guards stopped and looked down the alley where Ayden stood over Ilsa with his sword ready to strike her as she lay. The two guards shouted, withdrew their swords, and dashed into the alley past Ilsa. Ayden waited a small distance away, ready to engage them in the narrow hallway. Before the Vandari had a chance to lunge out at the young man, they glared at him with bloodshot eyes. Ilsa withdrew her daggers, planted between the helmet and the back plate of the armour, and watched the bodies fall to the floor. Ayden called for Kayten, and soon the Vandari were stripped of their weapons and armour, and the three were hurrying back to Ravol’s house with the piles of equipment in their arms.
“That went a lot smoother than expected,” Ayden commented above the clatter of blades and armour thrown onto the kitchen table.
“It went exactly how I expected,” Ilsa boasted.
“So, how many more do you think we’ll need,” Kayten asked, wiping the sweat on her brow.
“As many as we can, I don’t know how many will appear tonight,” Ayden announced.
The two women nodded and followed him out the front door once more.
At least three silhouettes danced upon each of the window shades of Ravol’s house as the front room was filled with guests and their conversations. Every chair was taken, hardly any space remained along the wall to stand, and those standing were careful not to burn themselves on the fire. While many of them conversed about many things like their families and the day’s work, the chief topic was the slaying of Ravol and his family and what each of them had gathered to do about it. Three great jugs of wine were brought into the kitchen where some of the more vocal supporters stood conversing with Ayden, Kayten, and Ilsa.
“Where did you get all these swords and armour? Isn’t this the Vandarian wear?” one of the visitors asked as he motioned towards the gear piled on the floor.
“Let’s just say we lifted them from the guards… by force,” Ayden responded with a wink, and a chorus of hearty laughter followed with him.
Ayden was amicable, but by the look of the reddened faces and the laughter poured easily, he was also worried that this meeting was beginning to lose focus and that they were in danger of not realizing why they had gathered there. A stern look from Ilsa and Kayten encouraged him of the same. He nodded to them, made his way into the front room, and stood himself near the fire.
“Attention, honoured guests, attention,” Ayden called out as he waved his hands.
Shortly conversation had ceased, and the remaining guests in the kitchen piled out into the tight quarters of the front room. Ayden looked around at them. Some were young men. Others were older, and some were paired with their wives. All eyes were upon him as if they had come to hear his continued denouncement from last night.
“I am glad you have been so merry and comfortable, for these are the times that Ravol and his family treasured most. You have come at the behest of your friends, your family, of Nyr and myself,” Ayden told them.
“You agree that the recent murders were a step too far for our unwelcome guests in the Order, and that our greatest fears are being realized right before our eyes. They invaded this home and did not speak a word in old tongue before cutting down a man and his son. They will continue to patrol these streets until every home is a prison cell, and eventually, a coffin,” Ayden stated.
“And let us not forget the water that this town was built around. You have all seen the smoke rising from the north. From sunrise to sunset, it pours into the sky like a tower. But have you seen the forest’s northern border soaked in a bloody red? The Vandari and their mines have stained the land and dirtied the water. If we let them continue, our only source of water will be corrupted as well,” Ayden explained.
“We have a chance now to liberate ourselves just as Nacosst has done in the days past. To take the fang from our heel and to take the poison from the wound. So we can speak freely, so we may keep our goods, and so we can live without fear of oppression, starvation, or the destruction of our goods, homes, or families. Join me tonight in freeing Erawal from the grasp of the Order. Follow me to their mine, and we will secure the future of Erawal for years to come.” Ayden concluded.
The guests did not clap or cheer because this was no time for celebration, but they all looked at each other and nodded, agreeing. They began to pour into the kitchen to arm themselves for the conflict to come. At least half of them were equipped, and the other half traveled home to reacquaint themselves with their hunting bows and the ceremonial swords and daggers of their fathers.
When the sun had almost disappeared entirely, leaving only the thinnest purple shade on the western sky, the conspirators met at Ravol’s house again. They finished the last of their preparations, secu
ring the quivers to their back and the Vandarian armour to their bodies. To those dressed like the Vandari, they wore old cloth of every colour over top in order not to be mistaken for foes. When the last sword was sharpened and the last bow restrung, Ayden stood at the door before them.
“Keep quiet as we move through the city. The guards should be moving around in twos or threes. With the benefit of surprise, we should have no problems subduing them. If we can eliminate the Vandari in the city without alarm, taking the mine will be much easier,” Ayden explained.
The blue-white moonlight was all that led them around the city. The conspirators headed to the market place and made their way outwards, working in quarter sections through the city north, south, east, and westward. In twos and threes, the guards of the Order succumbed to the quiet groups of five. The bodies were dragged into the alleyways and buried in the shallow sand as not to alert any passersby, Vandari or otherwise. Ayden, followed by Ilsa and Kayten, were approaching the city gates from the market and watched the group ahead of them prepare to ambush the two Vandari there. Three of them snatched the first guard, pulling him back into the city and into the darkness of shadow and steel. Before the other two could put hands on the second guard, he had turned to see where his partner had gone. Putting eyes on the assailants that were soon upon him, the guard put a hand on his helmet and dashed off, climbing onto a horse and cutting the tether in a swift motion before speeding off into the desert. Ilsa rushed to the city gate to watch the guard ride north over the hill and towards where the pillar of smoke would be in the dark of night.
“Well, there goes that,” Ilsa mumbled as she turned back to Ayden and Kayten with a shrug.
With the element of surprise ruined, Ayden, Ilsa, Kayten, and the twenty-three other conspirators waited belly down in the sand at the top of the ridge before the Bloodsands pit. All the torches around the camp had been lit, the watchtowers had three archers each, and units of five guards were marching around the outside of the camp. As the operation had still continued into the night, the light from the torch fire wavered and the hissing of steam came from inside the refinery. Ayden turned on his shoulder to speak with the rest of the gathering.
“So, what is the plan?” Ayden asked as he looked over at Kayten and Ilsa.
The two women looked over at each other, then down at the camp, and both began to ponder what Garreth would do in that situation.
“We should take out the archers first. If we can confront their foot soldiers without being flanked, I think we have a good chance of taking the mine. We should split into two groups. I will take one group left, and you and Kayten will take one right near to the minehead. We will meet at that far building, which I suspect to be a barracks,” Ilsa explained.
“Sounds fine. Let’s start,” Ayden said with a nod.
Ilsa made her way around the troops, splitting the groups in two. After, she began to lead her party down the slopes towards the western watchtower. Soon, Ayden’s group was positioned just before the reaching torchlight near the eastern tower. Their ears perked up as they heard Ilsa’s sharp whistle, and the archers in each group pulled back their arrows. The guards of the refinery continued on as usual, unable to hear beyond the hissing of steam from inside, until they swore they heard shouting over the mechanized cacophony and stared about. They did not discover the sentries of the watchtower until it was too late, for the last sentry in the eastern tower fell over the edge and toppled into the sand near them. The guards pulled out their blades and stared into the darkness but could not peer into its depth from their well-lit position. Shortly, the alarm bell rang from the western watchtower because its final sentry was struck but not slain. The doors to the barracks opened, pouring light and soldiers from within.
Another two short chirps from Ilsa, and the two groups began to make their way into the camp, pacing into the light of the torches surrounding the camp. In the dry wind, the flames flickered and stripes of shadow danced across the spread of the sands. Ilsa emerged from a tear in the darkness and sprinted towards the first group of five. She twisted and went head over heels before landing back on her feet and launching into the air. She planted her feet onto the shoulders of a Vandarian and crouched down, digging her daggers into his neck. She sprang off and pushed her victim into another guard. Before she landed, she was behind the ranks of her allies who charged into the fray. With screams and shouts, the first Vandari patrol of five stained the sand bloody. Soon, the other patrols had formed up into larger groups and moved in to combat the intruders.
On the other end of the camp, Kayten rushed into the fray beside Ayden, for her intention was to safeguard the young man who fought with passion but without practice. He had only just picked up a sword for the first time in Nacosst days ago, and it seemed he could barely keep the Vandarian shield aloft for long. She could not afford to lose Ayden, who had united the locals of Erawal; the conspirators needed the voice of a fellow Kal’reth to lead them out suffrage, not the irrelative arguments of a foreigner.
With Ayden and the rest of the warriors beside her, Kayten slammed into the Vandarian forces like a tidal wave against a cliff wall. Although their line of raised shields buckled under pressure, the Vandari were sturdy. As soon as the locals reached to strike over their shields, the Vandari would unleash a punishing counterattack. Kayten looked around to the allies that fell around her; they were labourers and merchants, knew little of war, and she had no time to advise them. She looked around in desperation for anything to even the odds until her eyes fell upon ruby red sands that seemed to shimmer in the torch light. The sound of crunching steel and grinding metal resounded around her as Kayten pushed a Vandarian off balance and then delivered a solid kick to his head and the edge of her shield to his throat. She dashed out of the fray behind a wagon where she could not be seen and lifted up the tarp, revealing its contents.
The bloodfire ore shimmered like crushed gemstones, and she reached her hand into its depth and pulled out a handful. Even through the thick leather gauntlet, she could feel the dust begin to heat up as it swirled around in her palm, and she tossed it to the ground. As the dust smacked the ground in a clump, it suddenly burst into flames and left a reaching smoulder where it landed. She looked down at the flame and had an idea. Kayten ripped off the tarp and stood in front of the wagon, waving her allies down.
“To me! To me! Shields in front!” Kayten called out.
“On me, my Kal’reth!” Ayden called out from afar and took his remaining squad towards her.
The Kal’reth could feel the scorching heat fly past their helmets as they stood with their shields raised, protecting the perimeter of the wagon and the allies that stood behind it. Kayten could hardly hold back a giggling laughter as she tossed handfuls of ore towards the charging Vandari. It reminded her of the snowball fights she used to have with her father in the winter. Except this time, she was playing with fire, and she was playing to kill.
Wide waves of flame burst across the front of the Vandari’s armour as the spattering of bloodfire ore landed upon them, leaving them to drop their weapons and attempt to pat out the flames or run screaming into the night. Kayten and a few men beside her continued to toss out the bloodfire ore until a particular Vandarian came charging in. He did not finish his battlecry even when he was aflame, and he soon veered towards into another wagon sitting a small distance away. Kayten watched as the man grew still upon the tarp of the wagon. When the tarp burst into flames, however, she looked down at the bloodfire she was holding.
“Everybody run! Retreat!” Kayten yelled as she grabbed hold of Ayden and pulled him away.
Kayten and the Kal’reth had only made it a few leaping steps before they were knocked off their feet by a deafening explosion, and they felt the searing wave of heat pass over them that was followed by the cooling dusk of night. Kayten was just in the process of pulling Ayden to his feet again when another large fireball shot into the sky, knocking them both flat on their faces. Ayden spat sand out of his mouth and s
tarted to lead them towards Ilsa’s group, who fared little better against the Vandarian defenders.
A chorus of yells and grunts rose in the air as the wave of reinforcements tackled the remaining Vandari centered around Ilsa’s squad. Soon, the reformed group of Kal’reth put their enemies to the sword, outnumbering and surrounding them. When the last Vandarian was still, Ayden led the soldiers towards the barracks to see if any resistance remained. With heads tucked close and arms curled around themselves, the serfs of the mine sat bunched in the back room of the barracks shivering and cowering, fearing that they would meet the same doom as their masters. Ayden sheathed his sword and approached.
“Whoa there. Calm now, calm. We won’t hurt you,” Ayden stated as he reached toward them.
Several of them dropped their guards and stared wide-eyed at the warriors before them, and a man from Kayten’s squad moved forward.
“Albad! We thought you were dead. You have been gone so long,” the man shouted as he moved forth to hug his brother.
“I could not pay the taxes. They beat me and dragged me here. They killed people who tried to escape. We’re worked so tirelessly,” Albad explained as he held up his hands, which were stained red from bloody labour and the crimson ore.
Likewise, he was much more shaded than the other Kal’reth, for his feet and his ragged clothing were stained the darkest red with the rest of his body a mere spattering. The other serfs were marked similarly and showed the same signs of malnourishment and mistreatment. From Andalvia, from Nacosst, and from afar, they had all been imprisoned for being unable to follow the laws of the Order and had been brought to the mine to work the rest of their lives.
“We all agreed in coming here that the Order has done too much to our people. But slavery… this is unbearable,” Ayden stated.