by Lee LaCroix
A thorough fog had fallen over the room, but the shining red reflection of fire off of steel still pierced through its haze. There was another loud crash at the window, followed by a yell and a solid thump. A shadow stood on top of the fallen Blackwoods closest to the window. His astonished ally reeled in shock before bringing his blade down towards the darkness. Like cutting shadow, the blade seemed to slide right through and stuck into corpse on the floor. The blade remained there as its wielder dropped to the floor a moment later, the shade evading to his backside and forcing him to the floor. The three rebels stood with their guards held high as the dark obscuration made its way around the outside of the room, felling their opponents before they had a chance to put eyes on it. It was as if a fire-cast silhouette had leapt off the wall and had come to fight beside them, and its image was just as elusive. A moment later, the crackling of the fire was the only movement in the room, and Garreth and Novas stood with swords readied in the direction they last saw the shade, and Domminal watched their back.
“Stay your blades, rebels. Follow me swiftly before more arrive,” a voice called out as the figure ripped open the curtains.
The daylight revealed a slim figure draped in tightly fitting clothing of a pitch black shade. It hopped through the broken window and out into the street where a small group of people had gathered and paced backwards at the sight of the armed survivors of the tavern brawl.
“This way,” the figure called out, and the shrouded one led them off the commotion of the main street into the echoing corridor of an alleyway.
Chapter Three
The three rangers followed their rescuer through a series of side streets that led out of the east side of town. The four dashed across a plain of sparse grass and down a craggy incline to a sharp valley where they would be obscured from the searching eyes of the Blackwoods. After the three had regained their footing from their slide down the ridge, the darkly-clad warrior turned to them and searched them with piercing eyes of golden brown.
“You are from the capital? Are you with the Crown Aegis?” the voice asked with a pitch like gravel.
“You know of us?” Garreth questioned in return.
The figure reached up to its facial coverings and pulled the masking cloth down, revealing a face with a gentle curvature and soft features and exposing a lustrous length of pitch black hair. Her eyebrows were delicate and trimmed as if styled, and her lips were as red as roses and smooth as glass. The three men stood agape as their shadowy saviour was revealed to be a stunning vision of feminine allure.
“Yes, the streets were filled with tales and rumours as your rebellion came to fruition. But, as you can tell, those voices were silenced. A large company of Blackwoods moved through the town as they escaped the city and left a sizable force to occupy Bouldershade,” the voice replied.
“It was lucky you intervened when you did. They were definitely waiting for us, and it seemed they knew exactly where to wait,” Novas stated.
“Yes, they did. But so did I. I watched you venture into town and test your luck with the locals. The lucky ones who managed to escape the beatings and burnings have all been threatened by the Blackwoods bruisers and were ordered not to lend aid to strangers in this town,” the woman explained.
“Well, I’m glad you did. We’ve been sent here to access and dismantle Blackwoods influence if at all possible. My name is Garreth. This is my son, Novas,” Garreth told as he held out his hand.
They both shook in greeting and Novas made a loose bow.
“And I’m Domminal. Pleased to meet you,” Domminal explained with an eager smile.
“Likewise, to all of you,” she replied. “My name is Ilsa. Ilsa Vemsdower.”
“Vemsdower, you say? Why does that sound so familiar?” Domminal asked.
“My family is known for the mine we operate east of Bouldershade. It is the most successful and profitable mine aside from Deepshine in the entire northern area. We supply the entirety of Bouldershade with their shale and slate needs and export to all around Malquia,” Ilsa related. “We should head there now. It won’t be safe around Bouldershade for the rest of the day. You’ve really kicked the hornet’s nest.”
“Very well. Lead the way, Ilsa,” Garreth offered with a gesture of his hand towards the open eastern plain.
Ilsa led them on a pathless route through the rocky wild and specifically avoided the trade route that ran from her family’s mine to Bouldershade. As there was little woodland on the rocky tundra, they tried their best to keep to the low elevation to avoid being seen by the scouts who Ilsa insisted could be watching.
Regardless of her best intentions, they soon appeared at the top of steep canyon with a shallow but powerful river at its bottom. Novas had never seen a drop so high before in his life and looking down into it gave him a sensation of dizziness, so he leapt back from the edge. On the other side of the canyon, there was a ridge covered with greenery and trees that met with river with dirt, sand, and gravel; it was a stark contrast to the arid cliffs they stood on now.
“We’ll cross there,” Ilsa stated as she pointed downstream.
The three others peered into the distance and were unable to find a slope or a path to descend to the river. They did not expect to climb down the sheer cliff face with all their gear, they thought. Downstream, there was a thick tree that had fallen across to the opposing side. Its roots reached into the air as much as its branches did on the other side. They soon arrived at the tree, and Ilsa pulled herself onto the branches and got her footing on the trunk of the tree. Luckily, many of the branches of the tree were still intact, and the party could reach out for them for stability as they made their way onto the trunk.
“Now, the hard part,” Ilsa explained as she made her way to the midsection of the tree.
That section in particular was completely stripped of branches, which were either worn away by wind, rain, or time. The travelers would have to cross a section using their balance alone; an intimating challenge at such a high height. Novas was thankful that the season had not proceeded far into a cooler period because its coming was known for its strong winds. Ilsa lowered her stance and swept over the partition as her feet hardly left the trunk. She clung to some branches on the other side and made her way down to the ground past the wall of roots. Garreth followed, and his natural agility kept him balanced and stable across his transition as well. He waved to his son from the other side as Novas waited for his turn to cross.
“I’d rather not try this with my pack on. It’s a little heavier than I’d like,” Domminal shouted as he clung to one of the branches.
He unshouldered his pack and balanced himself before swinging his pack over the remainder of the ravine. The pack landed on the incline and rolled a few paces towards the edge, stopping before a precarious fall. Domminal breathed a sigh of relief, and with the burden taken off of him, he traversed the branchless section without trouble.
Novas waited for his turn to cross. He did not even afford himself a chance to look down to the river below as he knew that he could not stand it. He tried to calm himself, focus himself, and in his mind, take himself away from the high height that he now found himself at.
“Come on, Novas!” His father called to him.
Novas looked up at his father and nodded. He summoned his courage, let go of the branch, sprinted across the tree trunk, and made a wide leap to the ground, clearing a small section of the ravine. Novas made solid landing, and Garreth slapped him on the shoulder, and then Ilsa led them onto the grassy plain.
It was a short journey to the Vemsdower residence, and the property could be seen from a distance after they broke through the border of remaining trees. The manse sat at the top of a hill with a single tree to its side. Its front side featured four windows that stood to the left and right of the front door and were divided by two floors. On the backside, the house featured a humble service door, single window above it, and a trapdoor that led to the cellar. Varnished wooden panelling was prominent all
elsewhere. The roof of the building was tiled with crafted shale sheets and featured some decorative shale ornaments on the house’s corners, edges, and doorframes. As they approached, the quarry came into view, which was a wide pit with a dark hole at the end and was completely cleared of trees and loose boulders.
“Let’s hurry inside,” Ilsa suggested as she jogged to the door and slid a key into the lock.
They entered to a long lobby with a green carpet and a stairway that led to the second level. Placed at the back wall next to the stairway was a giant carving of a great horned owl perched on an outstretched branch of a barren tree. The statue was made of polished slate that was nearly as dark as sunsteel. The owl’s feathers seemed sharp as knives, and its bushy brows jutted upwards as if furrowing. Fascinated, Novas studied the owl before he was shepherded into a waiting room.
“Please, have a seat,” Ilsa requested as her hand motioned towards a large, wooden table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Water, please,” the three requested as they unshouldered their packs and sat down.
Ilsa returned from the kitchen moments later carrying four glass mugs filled with swirling water and set them upon the cluttered table.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess, I’ve been quite busy fortifying the property as of late,” Ilsa claimed as she sat down on one of the chairs and took a deep gulp of her water, revealing her common thirst.
“The Blackwoods have actually come out this far from the town?” Garreth questioned although it didn’t seem implausible to him what so ever.
“Yes. The only reason they aren’t here now is because I’ve kept them out. This terrible business started five days ago,” Ilsa explained, sighing before she recollected her tale.
“My father, mother, brother, and I were in Bouldershade’s town hall for an emergency meeting. We were discussing the recent highway robberies of shale shipments with the miners, foremen, and concerned villagers. On our way back home, we were intercepted by highwaymen who were undoubtedly under the Blackwoods banner. They killed our retainer, Wulfred, and took my family into captivity. My mother screamed not for my father to do anything rash, but he relented as he did not want to cause her any further pain. Wulfred was a dear friend to all of us… I only escaped because my brother lunged at my captor before I was bound. I ran as fast as I could into the barrens and managed to evade them. As I ran I looked back, they were beating my brother something fierce,” Isla explained as a flush redness emerged on her simmering face.
“The next day when the workers showed up, I put them to work like nothing had happened. The foremen knew how to manage the mine well enough, but a host of Blackwoods showed up and scared them all away with their blades and their threats. They took most their host back to Bouldershade to escort the miners and to deliver a stern threat not to return. The few that they left to watch the property I managed to separate and subdue as I led them into different parts of the house. I knew I only had a limited amount of time before the Blackwoods returned, so I made my way into the minehead to set prepare some of deterrence we installed for this eventuality,” Ilsa explained as she lifted a slate caltrop from a bowl of materials.
The tiny, star-shaped object featured a solid rounded core with four jagged points sticking outwards. The bowl seemed to be filled with them, and slate shavings littered the floor and the table alike.
“Deterrence? You mean traps?” Domminal pondered aloud.
“Indeed. This mine has been in my family since the time of the first king of Malquia, who worked with my ancestors to build the foundations of today’s Lower Quarter and most of the harbour. My family has known about Vyse’s intentions for quite some time. After we refused his exorbitant offer for the mines, my family or our employees couldn’t help but notice their scouts on hills yonder or on the edge of the road at times, watching and retreating at a moment’s notice. My father was lucky to find Wulfred in Amatharsus, our friend started out as a miner you know. But, he turned out to be a man of many diverse skills. There wasn’t honest ways to apply those skills, he told us, until he found a way to use them to protect. He showed us how to build these traps, how to use them to defend what was ours, and he taught our family everything he knew about his long acquaintance with the shadow,” Ilsa explained as she withdrew her daggers from the sheaths and set them upon the table.
While the grip was bound with braided leather, the guard and pommel were made from a rectangular cut of curved slate. The blade itself was polished black with a reflective face and glinting edge. Its sharpness and shape seemed vicious and menacing to Novas, and he recalled the weapon’s effectiveness in the smoky bar room brawl.
“My family has always worked with shale and slate, and Wulfred taught us how to use its darkness to our advantage. When the Blackwoods returned that day, they escorted back a troop of their own miners. There was no one I recognized from our own band, and they wore the most curious style of garments. I only had to watch from the window above as they dragged their workers, bloody, bruised, and burnt, from the minehead. I could hear the shouts of protest and anger as the group left the mine and continued back to town. When I surveyed the mine later, they had only triggered a mere handful of surprises I had left for them. A full mine still awaits their greedlust. They haven’t returned since,” she concluded with a smug smile.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s about to change,” Garreth remarked as he pointed out the front window to where a cloud of smoke and dust was gathering.
Down the road a ways, a long trail of flame licked towards the sky, and a gathering of carriages was parked alongside it. Like an army of ants, a stream of Blackwoods came marching down the road in twos, threes, and fours and began to pool at the edge of the homestead.
“Quickly, we haven’t much time. Take to the top of the staircase and hold there, we’ll let them come to us,” Ilsa said as she leapt from her chair.
She paced over to the front door, grabbed at a length of rope hanging from the rafters, and then pulled at it until it was snug and secured to a fixture on the floor. She disappeared from sight for some minutes to prepare the house as the Blackwoods continued to pool out front. Novas looked out at them from the waiting room window. There were at least thirty men outside who were all waiting for action under the high sun and the dusty wind. Their organizer, a man in a frilly dark doublet and now dirtied slacks, emerged from the thick of the crowd and paced to the front of the drive.
“Miss Vemsdower!” he shouted. “We know you’re in there! We saw you in town today. Please deliver the rebels to us, so we can leave you in peace.”
“Or pieces,” Ilsa murmured as she entered the front room and kicked open the door, showing herself to the crowd gathered outside.
She retreated into the depth of the house and continued up the staircase with a crossbow in hand. She pointed to her eyes and then to the doorway, and Garreth, Novas, and Domminal took up their bows. From their position, they could just see out the front door about a carriage length from the front step. Novas dropped to the floor and looked through the bannister railings to see the legs of the Blackwoods marching close. He rose again and nodded to the others, and each one primed an arrow. Ilsa was the first to fire a shot, and the black-headed bolt whistled through the air before dropping her target to the dusty driveway. There was a panicked commotion and a rustling of feet as the body was moved out of the way.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Ilsa. Just give the men up, and we’ll forget this ever happened,” the voice called out again.
There was a silence that followed, and the four waited for the Blackwoods’ next move. They could still see the shadows of the crowd waiting just outside their range and surrounding the door, fearful to move in. A moment later, there was a sound of shattering glass and splintering wood towards the back of the house, and then the sound of a door unlocking and being opened. As the old wooden floor groaned under heavy feet, there was a distinct snapping noise followed by a clap of wood. They listened to the rustling of
metal pieces that spilled like a jar of beads. Only these droppings were not colourful and ornamental, but dark and deadly; the stream of caltrops fell from the ceiling, battering the first intruder to the floor with their razor-sharp spikes. He fell to the ground with a painful yelp as he was buried in a wave of the painful deterrence.
“While that should hold them for a while, keep watch on the hallways,” Ilsa assured them.
The Blackwoods were held off at both entrances, but every few moments, a head poked through the border of the door to catch a quick peek and then darted away. The Blackwoods knew where their quarry was, and they knew their prey held a defensible position within the manse. The four could hear the intruders at the back door gasping and yelling in pain and frustration at their attempts to sweep the caltrops away, and the Blackwoods argued a fair bit while they were doing it.
“This is your last chance. No more blood has to be spilt. We can ensure your safety,” the crier called out from beside the front door.
The tempers of the Blackwoods began to flare. Regardless of the caller’s patient voice, curses and growls could be heard beyond the house’s border. Ilsa could hear the Blackwoods had infiltrated the backdoor, made their way through the caltrops, and were rumbling along the first floor of the house. She pointed at each of the two doors branching left and right from the main entrance, and soon another head peered out from the left hallway. The scout had tried to be quick, but he spiraled into the hallway as Garreth released an arrow that found its mark. Blood began to pour onto the wooden floors once more as the man lay still with one hand grown loose around the arrow within him. Two more men, one from each side, ran into the hallway and attempted to make a run for the stairs but were caught down by a bolt and an arrow from Novas’ bow. Three more rushed up with a yell, jumping over the bodies of the fallen. Two more fell down the stairs, and the third made it halfway up the steps where he was met with a swift kick from Ilsa and finished off when Novas had refit his next arrow. A line of Blackwoods emerged at each of the three entrances and began to pace forward into the hallway. The front line of them carried interlocked shields to protect against the ranged bombardment. Ilsa knew it was time to act.