Defiant Guardians Anthology

by Jacob Peppers

  Merrick sighed and stood. “You’re right—we have no authority here. Which means we’re not associated with the Shundovian nobility. We’re not here to bring any harm or judgment upon your family, Master Aram. We’re looking for someone, that’s all.”

  “You could be cutthroats for all I know.” Aram glanced at D’Jenn. “Take your accusations and leave my home. Now.”

  Merrick nodded and returned the smile to his face. He bowed to Kira and gave Aram a respectful nod. D’Jenn followed as Merrick moved for the door, but he offered the toy legionnaire to Kira as he passed. She took it without a word, her eyes full of an emotion D’Jenn couldn’t discern. Aram growled a warning and D’Jenn walked to the entrance.

  Merrick turned as they stepped outside, stopping Aram from shutting the door. “I understand your reluctance to speak with us, Master Aram, but if your daughter remembers anything, she can find us at the home of the widow Jeravin.”

  Aram scowled. “Stay away from my daughter and stay away from me.”

  With one last baleful glare at D’Jenn, Aram slammed the door.

  Merrick sighed and turned to D’Jenn. “Did you have to push them so early?”

  “They were hiding something.” D’Jenn followed as Merrick walked toward the hitching rail and untied the reins of his horse. “Did you notice the dinnerware?”

  Merrick shook his head.

  “Three sets.” D’Jenn glanced toward Aram’s house as he untied the reins of his own horse. “They’ve had company in the last few days.”

  Merrick grunted. “Kira was lying—that much was obvious. But why cover up what happened?”

  “Did you listen to what she said?” D’Jenn patted his horse’s neck and stepped into the saddle. “The way she spoke when she described her beating. She said, ‘I thought he was finally going to kill me,’ and ‘he started in on me’—like it had happened before. It was her husband who beat her up. I’m sure of it.”

  Merrick climbed on his horse and glanced back toward the home. “That did prick my ears a bit, but I was watching her face. The only time she was telling the truth was when she talked about the beating. She remembered being kicked in the side, but not the face of the attacker?”

  D’Jenn nodded and scratched at his beard. “So, Raven comes to Kira’s cottage.”

  “But why?” Merrick said.

  D’Jenn shrugged. “Let’s concentrate on what we know and what we can infer. If it was Rulon who put the beating on Kira, it had to have happened before magic was turned against him. There’s no way some country drover is taking time to kick his young wife while he’s dodging hostile spells.”

  Merrick furrowed his brow. “Kira said Rulon had a rule about visitors. Maybe that’s what set him off.”

  “Maybe. From what I’ve heard of him, it could have been anything. People like that don’t need much of a reason.”

  Merrick nodded. “So, Rulon attacks Kira. The beating is vicious, too—you saw the girl. That wasn’t a cuff across the face to keep her docile.”

  “She said it herself—she thought he was finally going to kill her.”

  Merrick sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. “Raven sees what’s happening and turns his magic against Rulon. He did it to protect her.”

  D’Jenn shook his head. “We don’t know that yet.”

  “He’s just a kid, D’Jenn.” Merrick gathered his reins and turned his horse toward the path leading to town. “He’s frightened, hunted. I know he’s done wrong, here, but he can still be saved. If he killed to protect the girl, the Tower Court might grant him leniency.”

  D’Jenn nudged his horse around to follow Merrick. “I think you’re being—”

  A small boy thundered around a bend in the forested path, pumping his arms as he ran. He caught sight of Merrick and slowed to an awkward halt, holding his arms over his head and gulping air through his mouth. He waved at them and made to speak, but he was too winded to form words.

  Merrick pulled a waterskin from his saddlebag and tossed it to the boy. “Have a drink, young man. Catch your breath. Is everything alright?”

  The boy took a long gulp of water and splashed some over his face. He took a second drink from the skin and gave Merrick an embarrassed smile. Wiping some of the water from his face, he walked over and offered the waterskin up to Merrick.

  “Sorry I drank so much. It’s hot out here!”

  Merrick smiled. “Think nothing of it. Where are you going, lad?”

  “Are you Merrick?” The boy looked to D’Jenn. “And Dah…dah…”

  “D’Jenn.”

  The boy smiled. “That was it.”

  Merrick shared a worried glance with D’Jenn. “That’s us, boy. What’s going on?”

  “Old Jeravin paid me to run up here and find you! She said it was important.”

  “What was her message?” Merrick said.

  The boy’s eyes went wide. “There’s been another killing!”

  ***

  “What a bloody mess.”

  D’Jenn nodded. That’s the gods’ own truth.

  Four wagons were stretched along the road leading south from Rockman’s Ford. Three were laden with tarp-covered goods strapped down by thin ropes. The tarps blew in the wind, waving in time with the smoke wafting into the sky.

  The lead wagon was ablaze.

  It was a monstrous thing—or would have been, before it was set aflame. Where the three wagons behind it were meant for hauling cargo, the lead wagon was meant as a living space. D’Jenn had seen many such wagons before. Trading families often bought them to accommodate their roving lifestyle. Inside, the wagon would have had enough room for a few hammocks and the bare necessities of life.

  The walls had been blown outward, as if pressure had built inside the living space. Fire consumed everything above the wheels, which had yet to catch. Black, angry smoke trailed into the sky, carried by the strong summer wind.

  Smells like char and burnt meat.

  “I told you.” The boy turned a triumphant grin on Merrick. “Attacked on the road, just like I said.”

  Merrick shared a grim look with D’Jenn before nodding to the boy. He climbed down from his saddle, leaving the boy to sit on the horse. D’Jenn followed Merrick’s example and dismounted.

  “Do you know how long it’s been here?” Merrick shot the boy a warning glance as the lad toyed with his horse’s mane. “He doesn’t like that. Old beast is liable to bite, boy. Fair warning.”

  The boy stopped his fidgeting with a sigh. “The girl came running into town about midday. I saw her myself—not a scratch on her!”

  Merrick grimaced. “Midday, was it? Gods in the bloody Void. There was a survivor?”

  The boy nodded. “A girl. Older than me. Came stumbling into town at midday. Went right to the inn. Soon as old Jeravin heard, she paid me to run you the message.”

  “How many people know about this?” D’Jenn’s scowl made the boy quail.

  “Everyone, I suppose.” The boy shrugged. “The whole town will know by now. The Alderman was already there when I left.”

  “Fuck the gods.” Merrick waved the boy off. “Keep your distance, boy. Anyone comes down that road, you keep them away.”

  The boy raised his chin. “How much will you pay me?”

  “A copper mark for every head you turn away.” Merrick scowled as the boy took his reins. “And if you run off with that horse, boy, I’ll find you and box your ears.”

  The boy waved a dismissive hand and turned Merrick’s horse around.

  “Come on,” D’Jenn said. “Let’s have a look.”

  Merrick nodded and followed him to the burning wagon.

  The heat kept them from getting too close to the blaze. It distorted the air with waves of hungry energy. The fire made a rushing noise as the summer wind fed the blaze.

  There were bodies inside. D’Jenn spotted an arm sticking from one of the windows, the flesh charred and still. The skin had split apart, revealing the sizzling flesh below. Smoke pou
red from inside the wagon, where the flames were more concentrated.

  “Has to be another body inside that thing.” D’Jenn squinted at the arm hanging from the window. “At least one more.”

  Merrick wiped the sweat from his brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “The fire.” D’Jenn gestured at the wagon. “Wood is good fuel, but fat is what makes that pungent smoke.”

  Merrick grimaced. “Lovely thing to know.”

  They walked around the front of the wagon, where they found the hitch resting in the dirt. There were harnesses for four draft animals with a mule lying dead in one the closer spots. The beast was sizzling where the fire was closest, but it hadn’t been the flames that killed it. The creature’s body was twisted, as if something had seized the animal and crushed it like a child’s toy. The rest of the mules were nowhere to be seen.

  “This was ugly.” Merrick grimaced at the wagon hitch. “How did the mules get loose? Think they kicked free on their own?”

  D’Jenn approached the hitch, staying a few steps from the blaze. He crouched and took up the harness, running his eyes along the straps. He knew little about the engineering of such things, but he’d heard of plenty of accidents with hitched animals before. He found a loose strap and pulled it through the hitch until its end came fluttering to his hand. D’Jenn held the leather strap out to Merrick, who raised an eyebrow at the lack of damage.

  “They were unhitched.” D’Jenn stood and glanced around the road. Hoof-prints led in several directions through the dirt, though the scene was so chaotic D’Jenn could discern little from their paths. “Someone let them go.”

  “All but one.” Merrick gave the twisted corpse of the mule a pained grimace. “Poor fellow.”

  “Were the mules unhitched before or after the blaze caught?” D’Jenn stared at the wagon. “The mules are gone from the other wagons, too. Why kill this one, but set the rest free?”

  Merrick shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Where does this road lead?”

  “South, toward the capital city.” Merrick took a few steps from the burning wagon and gestured at the others in the caravan. “Bet these were headed to market. Shundov is a busy port. There’ll be all sorts of traders on the road this time of year.”

  D’Jenn felt a cold spike in his guts. “Eindor’s blighted eye—do you remember the tradesmen from town last night? The merchant family?”

  Merrick turned a surprised look on him. “Oh, gods. I do. This has to be them, doesn’t it?”

  D’Jenn glanced around the site. “There were four of them, counting the daughter—if that’s who escaped. They were traveling with guardsmen. I don’t recall how many.”

  “Where are they now?”

  D’Jenn took a few steps away from the wagon and scanned the road. The ancient thoroughfare—leftover from a time when this place was a part of some grand empire—cut a wide path through a thick forest. Despite the road’s ancient beginnings, Shundovia was a kingdom that prided itself on maintaining its roads. The trees were cleared for a wide distance from the edge of the road, leaving a swath of grassy earth on both sides.

  A disturbed patch of ground marred the east side of the road. D’Jenn approached the mound, keeping wide of the burning wagon. The ground had been churned as if by a giant plow. Grass and roots and all manner of stones were sprinkled through the wet dirt. Buried in the pile were human body parts—severed fingers, a bloody boot, and a hundred unidentifiable pieces of meat. Blood was everywhere.

  “The gods have no mercy.” Merrick held his hand over his mouth as his eyes fell on the pile. “How could he have done this? I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s find the rest of them.” D’Jenn looked toward the trees. “If this one’s lying here, maybe our boy came out of the trees on the east side of the road. Killed the guards first, then went after the wagon.”

  Merrick shook his head. “Why?”

  “We’ll find out when we learn more.” D’Jenn gestured at the woods. “Come on.”

  Just as they turned to approach the tree line, cantering hooves sounded from the road. A man on a horse rode past the wagons, slowing down to get a good look, and thundered down the road to the south. Merrick shook his head.

  “Blast that little runt—I told him to head people off, for the gods’ sakes.”

  “Too late now, in any case.” D’Jenn turned back to the trees. “Let’s keep looking.”

  The second guard was lying at the foot of a tree just inside the woods. His body was contorted, arms and legs akimbo. Blood leaked from both of his nostrils, but there were no other wounds D’Jenn could find.

  “Where’s his sword?” Merrick flicked the empty scabbard at the man’s belt.

  D’Jenn glanced around but froze as he looked upward. “Merrick.”

  Merrick raised his eyebrows at his name and followed D’Jenn’s gesture with his eyes. In another nearby tree hung the body of a third guard. His chest had been pierced by three swords, whose hilts were twisted and bent. They stuck from his torso like a clutch of bloody weeds.

  The blades had pinned him to the trunk well above the height of D’Jenn’s head. His head lolled against his chest, nearly touching one of the hilts. Blood had run down the trunk of the tree and was soaking the ground beneath.

  Merrick looked away from the body. “Fuck the gods, D’Jenn. I told his sister I’d find him. I told her I’d protect him.”

  “That so?” D’Jenn gestured at the corpse in the tree. “Who protected him? What about the people in that wagon?”

  Merrick sighed. “I know what you’re trying to say, D’Jenn, but—”

  “But what, Merrick?” D’Jenn shook his head. “You still see Raven as a child—clearly there’s bias in your reasoning. He killed before, and now he’s killed again. How many bodies does it take?”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Really?” D’Jenn gestured at the man lying at the foot of the tree. “Let’s talk about what happened here. That one at the foot of the tree? Raven probably picked him up with his Kai and tossed him into the woods like a sack of meal. Broke him against the trunk.”

  “D’Jenn—”

  D’Jenn pointed to the body pinned to the trunk. “That one up there was skewered like a piece of meat over a fire and pinned there to bleed. Charming way to go. Choking on the weight of your own body and the blood leaking into your lungs. I’ll bet it was a fine morning.”

  Merrick’s eyes hardened. “Your point?”

  “My point is that our boy has escalated. Maybe he killed Rulon to protect Kira, maybe that’s true. But this?” D’Jenn shook his head. “Merrick, if this was the Sevenlands, the Conclave would issue a Death Coin for Raven and he’d be hunted by every Warlock willing to take up the challenge. There’s only one way to resolve this now.”

  Merrick scoffed. “Only one way, is it? That’s the way you Conclave boys do everything—your way, and fuck anyone who thinks differently. I was reluctant to call on your help for just this reason. It’s true what they say about you, isn’t it?”

  “What who says about what?”

  “What everyone says about the Conclave.” Merrick narrowed his eyes at D’Jenn. “That you manipulate everything to your advantage. That you kill anyone who gets in your way.”

  D’Jenn smiled. “Aye, and we sacrifice virgins at every full moon.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” D’Jenn snorted. “Here I stand over the bodies made by your target, yet he’s just a boy and I’m a killer. Remarkable.”

  “Are you not?” Merrick raised his chin. “That’s what Warlocks do, isn’t it? Track down and kill rogue wizards. You’re an assassin. A killer.”

  D’Jenn fixed Merrick with a challenging glare. “Have you not been forced to put down one of these kids you’re dispatched to find? You said it yourself—sometimes things go wrong. This looks pretty damn wrong to me.”

  Merrick sighed and nodded, raising his hands for peace. “I agree
with you. But Raven is just a boy, and it doesn’t hurt to keep that in mind.”

  “Alright, then,” D’Jenn said, taking a less challenging tone, “add that to your equation. How does it change the picture?”

  Merrick peered through the edge of the woods at the road. “What if he didn’t approach the caravan from this direction?”

  “Then why is all the destruction focused here?”

  “Well, what if he was with the caravan and fled in this direction instead?”

  D’Jenn glanced toward the road. “I’m willing to entertain the idea. Alright, so he’s traveling with the caravan and something sets him off. He burns the lead wagon and the family inside.”

  Merrick scowled. “Or something went wrong. It might have been an accident.”

  “An accident, then.” D’Jenn shook his head. “One way or the other, the burning happens.”

  “The guards witness it and give chase. Raven flees toward this side of the road with the guards right behind him—”

  “—when he decides to turn and end the chase once and for all.” D’Jenn met Merrick’s scowl with a steady gaze. “Either way, lots of people are dead.”

  “And what would you do if you were in fear for your life?”

  D’Jenn raised his eyebrows. “Not this.”

  Merrick’s shoulders slumped. “Fair enough. What confuses me is the family. Why kill them?”

  The family! D’Jenn felt cold as the faces of the traders flashed through his mind—a mother and father with a pair of children already into their adolescence. They had been sitting at a table in The Lame Packhorse when he’d seen them.

  “Merrick, we have to go. Now.”

  Merrick followed as D’Jenn started for the horses. “What? Where?”

  “To the woodcutter’s place,” D’Jenn said over his shoulder. “The last time I saw the traders, they were speaking with Aram.”

  A Deadly Misunderstanding

  Aram’s cottage was empty.

  The door stood open to the whispers of the trees, but there was only silence inside the home. D’Jenn sat his horse while Merrick rummaged around inside. The boy looked around with wide eyes, hands fiddling with the horn of Merrick’s saddle.