Legends of Gravenstone: The Secret Voyage

by Alex Aguilar

  Fueled by vengeance, he wanted her dead. And he wanted to be the one to do the deed.

  They left their horses tied to a row of trees nearby and furtively sneaked towards Skinner’s cabin. It looked almost entirely abandoned, save for a crow or two resting on the roof. Malekai led the way; he got to the cabin and put his back to it. He slid against the walls until he reached one of the windows for a peek. Once again, his eye failed him. All he saw were lifeless shadows, an empty dining table, and an unlit fireplace that was oozing hot smoke.

  Where are you, you sneaky bastard? You couldn’t have gone far…

  It was then that he saw what looked like a sleeping person sitting on an armchair in the common room. He glanced at his men and silently instructed five of them to walk around the cabin and check the stables. The remaining ten remained in place awaiting further instruction.

  “S-Sir?” whispered Borrys Belvaine, the captain’s second-in-command.

  “Shut your mouth…”

  “But, cap’n, sir…”

  Borrys placed a gentle hand on his captain’s shoulder. Malekai took one glare at him and the man removed it instantly. “I-Is this really necessary, sir?” he asked. “Is the girl really worth all this?”

  The captain unsheathed his blade. He would have killed his own man, had the rest of them not been gawking at them; even he knew that turning on your own was not a good way to ensure loyalty. “It’s not about the girl, you idiot,” he whispered. “Skinner and his goons are the one thing keeping this place safe, not the guards. We kill them all and the entire village will be licking our boots by sunrise. Do you understand now?”

  “Yes, but sir… W-We’ve tried it before ‘n’ you saw what happened last tim-”

  “We were sloppy last time,” Malekai insisted. “And our old captain was a cowardly bastard.”

  “But cap’n, w-”

  Malekai pressed the tip of his blade against Borrys’s chin. “One more word out of you, Borrys Belvaine… and I’ll gut you like a fish.”

  Borrys said nothing after that. Malekai straightened his knees and cracked his neck. He walked to the front door and began turning the knob, slowly so the wood wouldn’t creak. He signaled the others to stand behind him with their blades ready.

  The door was unlocked; it opened effortlessly with a single push.

  And the silence that followed was eerie…

  “Keep your backs to the walls,” Malekai said to his men.

  And then he took the first step inside.

  Meanwhile, the five men sent to inspect the stables were doing a rubbish job of keeping quiet. They whispered loudly, walked briskly, snickered amongst one another as they helped themselves to anything they could find in the stables that looked like it was worth some coin.

  “Not a single horse taken,” one of them observed. “They must’ve left on foot.”

  There was even an old wooden carriage parked on the other side of the stable walls with two horses still tied to the reigns. It appeared empty, and so the red mercenaries hardly paid it any mind. Behind it, however, was the girl they were so desperately searching for, crouched near the back wheels with her bow in hand and her serpent companion wrapped around her neck.

  Robyn caught glimpses of the rogues when they were distracted sifting through the pockets on the horses’ saddles. Her eyes were searching for one particular man in red, the man that scarred her and attempted to make a slave out of her… But Malekai Pahrvus was nowhere to be seen…

  Her heart slowed its pace; in truth, he was possibly the only man that actually frightened her.

  “No one back here,” another man said. “Should we go back?”

  “No. Try ‘n’ find another way in! Pick the lock if you have to.”

  Robyn Huxley was grinning in the dark. She crawled cautiously over the mud and took a peek through a hole in the stable wall. There she found Skinner, hiding with a blade in hand between the stall door and a pile of hay, grinning at the men’s complete lack of caution. He gave Robyn a wink and placed his forefinger over his lips, signaling her to keep quiet. And that, she did…

  She realized then that the Brotherhood’s reputation was not entirely what it was made out to be. They may have been cruel, merciless, even rotten. But they were not exactly the smartest bunch, at least most of them weren’t. They were just men, sloppy and lazy, hungry for gold yet unwilling to make any added effort. If Skinner and his gang of wardens were hiding so easily from them, Robyn felt a shred of hope still that she would survive the journey to Drahkmere.

  It was a strange sensation, indeed. She felt almost invincible.

  * * *

  “That’s the last of ‘em!” shouted a village guard as he dragged the rogue mercenary known as Clive out of The Stumblin’ Hare.

  “Line ‘em up with the rest!” said the knight commander.

  Drunk and disarmed, the rogue mercenaries of the Brotherhood were pinned to their knees with their hands on their scalps. Clive was the only one resisting, and so the guards shoved him onto the mud.

  “Strip them of their weapons! And someone find the owner of this establishment…”

  “Umm, y-yes sir,” young Seamus approached the knight commander. “That’d be me, sir.”

  The commander took one glimpse of the lad and said, “You’re a bit young to be a tavern owner, aren’t you?”

  “Y-Yes well,” Seamus stammered shyly. “It was no choice of mine…”

  “I see,” the commander nodded grimly. “What’s your name, lad?”

  “Seamus, sir…”

  With a nod of approval, the knight commander turned to his men. “Strip them of their gold as well!” he said. “It should help young Seamus pay for any damages…”

  Seamus’s eyes widened. “Ohh… Thank you, sir!”

  “Don’t mention it, lad.”

  One of the mercenaries was yelping and crying obnoxiously, and it was starting to draw attention from the nearby murmuring crowds. He was aiming a shivering finger at them, cursing and crying like a wild vulture.

  “Beware the dark witch!” he shouted. “Ungodly, she is! Beware! Beware!”

  Among the peasants hid Syrena of Morganna. She looked the other way, wishing she had escaped with Hudson when she had the chance. One of the guards bent on one knee and inspected the crying mercenary; there was a red handprint on his neck and his skin was blistering awfully.

  “Ungodly!” the man went on. “She’s ungodly!”

  “By the gods… You ever see anything like this, knight commander?”

  They examined the wound closely, and then several eyes moved towards the crowd of villagers. Syrena hid behind John, keeping her gaze away so that the orange glow of her eyes would remain unseen.

  “Ahh,” groaned the knight commander. “He’s spouting nonsense. Take ‘im away!”

  Syrena felt a sudden rush of relief.

  As much of a sanctuary as the village was, there was no escaping a death sentence when one was a witch. Even mages had a choice in studying magic; witches were cursed with their abilities from birth. And Syrena had unfortunately faced the gallows many times in the past.

  Once when she was 16, in fact, she’d actually hung from the noose and was near death. But her body worked in mysterious ways, and when it felt the jolts she became immersed in flames. The noose burned off along with all of her clothes. She’d fallen over the mud, naked and out of breath yet still alive. The only reason she’d survived at all was because the Lady of the village had taken a liking to her at the time. And, just like any friend she ever had, that Lady was now long-gone, ashes blowing in the wind.

  Ungodly? She pondered cynically. I’d show you ungodly if I could…

  “Knight commander!” one of the village guards ran abruptly into the scene. “There’s been another attack, sir!”

  “How many?”

  “A dozen or so, sir! They were spotted in the southern outskirts, near Osric Skinner’s cabin, sir!”

  The commander gave it a moment’s thoug
ht, sighing as if he’d been called into duty after being drained for the day. “Very well… You lot, take them away!” he ordered half of his men. “The rest of you, come with me!”

  They rode away towards Skinner’s cabin as the Brotherhood mercenaries were dragged in a line towards the prisons. John watched the soldiers, feeling a sudden urge to join them, until Syrena tapped him suddenly on the shoulder.

  “Look!” she whispered, a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

  John followed her eyes, and then his lips curved into a subtle grin.

  There, standing in the shadows, was a man in a black hat sitting on a horse. He was holding the reins of two other mounts, both with saddles made of red leather. As the villagers began to disperse, heading home for the night, John and Syrena made way for the trees. Hudson was waiting there for them with a stolen winesack and a satchel full of gold.

  “Care for a ride, anyone?” he asked, winking at them in that sly manner of his.

  Syrena hopped onto one of the horses. “Where did you get these?” she asked.

  Hudson shrugged. “They won’t be needing their rides in prison, love.”

  With a smile lighting up her face, the witch grabbed the thief by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Once said kiss was over, however, she landed a slightly heavy slap across his face. “Never leave us like that again, you hear me?!” she warned him.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Hudson winked at her again, as if he quite enjoyed the slap. “And you, you dumb bastard,” he glanced at John. “The next time you try to do something like that at least wait for my signal, will you?!”

  But John was lost in his thoughts, staring at the guards’ shadows riding away to the south.

  “See something, farmer?” Hudson asked.

  “The Captain of the Brotherhood,” John said worriedly. “He’s still out there… Perhaps… I dunno, perhaps we should help…”

  “The village guards will take care of it, mate,” said the thief with a shrug. “And we have a schedule to keep, remember? Best to get on with it… Our job here is done…”

  John hesitated for a moment. Something in the back of his mind was drawing him after the guards. Perhaps it was what the Brotherhood captain had said, something about a girl he’d been searching for. There was a certain familiarity with the captain’s description of her, though John had been so distracted at the time that it was starting to fade from his mind… Black curls? Fair skin? Something along those lines… Such a vague description shouldn’t have troubled him so much, and yet there he was…

  “Come on, mate,” Hudson said, handing John the reins of the third horse. “We’ve gotten into enough trouble for the night, don’t you think?”

  John took the reins but did not move. He knew Hudson was right. He knew Viktor Crowley was probably waiting somewhere out there for them. And yet his feet hesitated to move.

  “Come, now,” Hudson insisted. “There’s nothing to see out there, mate.”

  Halfheartedly, John gave in. Whatever the Brotherhood’s Captain had said, it was a matter that he’d have to force out of his mind if he wished to follow through with the journey.

  “You’re probably right,” he said hesitantly. “Nothing to see out there.”

  * * *

  Malekai took careful steps inside the cabin like a devious wildcat. His swordsmen mirrored his every move, some of them crouching to blend in with the shadows. It was as silent as death save for the crickets and the wolves howling in the distance. It was just as it had been the last time, a deserted cabin in the outskirts of town. But Malekai was much smarter than his men, even with a wounded sight. He knew the wardens were near. He knew he and his men were being watched.

  He paced towards the sleeping figure in the armchair, his gaze vigilant, glancing at every corner for any sign of movement. The rest of his men pinned themselves to the walls, sliding further inside, two of them making way for the stairs. When Malekai took another step, the wood creaked beneath his boot. He lifted his fist into the air again and his men froze where they stood.

  But the person in the chair did not move. And it was then that Malekai realized something wasn’t right. He poked at the chair with the tip of his blade and the straw hat fell to the floor, exposing a head made of cloth. Malekai’s jaw tightened with rage. But before he could make any sudden movements, his ear caught something.

  His eye may have been shit, but the man always did have quite an ear. It was a soft puffing sound, as if someone was breathing through a stuffed nose. And it was accompanied by a subtle creak, like wood being bent too far and on the verge of cracking.

  Where are you, you gutless little rat?

  Someone was aiming a bow at him, Malekai knew. He could almost feel the eyes on the back of his neck. Whoever it was, they were struggling to hold their grip on the arrow. Malekai felt the sudden urge to take cover, but he knew that in such cases, letting an enemy know that you’re aware of their presence was like asking to be shot. But suddenly, his eye decided to aid him… In a moment of clarity, he caught a glimpse of the shadow upstairs. A girl was aiming right at him, a girl with a jaguar’s tooth hanging from her ear.

  Hello there, you beauty…

  He was ready to dash for the stairs.

  But then a sudden sound startled them all.

  Just outside the front door, a teenage boy with a raccoon hat hopped down from the roof and onto the porch. Then, with the swiftness of a hare, he grabbed the knob and pulled the door shut, trapping Malekai and his swordsmen inside.

  “Get ‘im!” shouted Borrys Belvaine, but before any of the men could move, a trapdoor in the common room floor fell inward with a slam. A hand emerged from beneath and grabbed the foot of the nearest rogue mercenary. With a swift pull, brave Aldous dropped the man to the floor and killed him with a single jab to the throat. “Now, lads!” the youth shouted, and then chaos followed.

  Captain Malekai Pahrvus leapt to the nearest corner for safety as arrows began flying in from above. Ayisha and Milo were aiming with precision, but Borrys Belvaine tipped the dining table over and used it as a shield for himself and three others. “In here, lads! Take cover!”

  At the same time, however, Yuri the orcess leapt out of a hollow cupboard with a pair of blades and Mallory the quiet girl began spitting poisonous darts through a pipe from underneath the staircase.

  “Cap’n!” Borrys shouted, hiding cowardly behind the table. “There’s too many of ‘em!”

  Another red mercenary ran for the door, only to find that it had been locked from the outside; he was killed by an arrow before he could find cover again.

  Damn it all to hells, Malekai gritted his teeth as he used the scarecrow’s armchair for cover. He looked at the front door, contemplating running and slamming against it. But the doorknob began rattling on its own before he could sprint towards it.

  “Cap’n?! You there?!” a muffled voice called from the outside. The few rogues from the stables had come to aid their men; they began breaking some of the windows and shooting arrows back at the young wardens.

  “Get the cap’n out o’ there!” one of them shouted. Some tried to force the thick wooden door open with their shoulders, and when that didn’t work they used their blades. But the cabin had been solidly built for this. It was clear that the man that owned it knew a thing or two about strong defenses.

  “It’s too strong! Find another way in!” someone ordered.

  But there was a sudden growl coming from above that distracted some of them. One of the rogue mercenaries glanced up in a fright, only to see a massive green orc glaring down at him from the balcony.

  “Bloody hells… I-It’s him! It’s the Bea-”

  The orc hopped down and landed on top of the man, breaking both his ribs and skull upon impact. The other four were stunned and horrified. They stood there with their blades in hand, staring at the frightening orc that was once their comrade, the orc they had left to die…

  Ignar the Beast let out a startling roar that made them all shudde
r. And then, as if killing rats, he swung his axe brutally like a vicious warrior thirty for carnage.

  Malekai saw it all through one of the broken windows, he saw the bodies falling one by one until all of his mercenaries were no more. He knew then that this was their last straw, seeing as he could only count five heads inside the cabin, including his own. And so, in a rush of panic, he rolled over the floor towards the back door, which looked rickety and much less sturdy than the front one.

  “This way, lads!” he shouted. He used the rage he’d built up and slammed against the door repeatedly with every bit of his brute strength. The lock broke off after the third slam, and Malekai nearly stumbled into the mud. His last four men soon followed behind. They were free at last…

  “Cap’n?! Are you alright?! Are you wounded, cap’n?!” Borrys asked with genuine concern. But before Malekai could catch his breath, there was a loud “Hyah!” that diverted his attention.

  A cart ran past them, so swiftly that it brushed against barrels and piles of hay and caused a mess in the stableyard. Malekai was standing dangerously close; another inch and the cart would have scraped his chest. He saw Osric Skinner – known enemy of the Rogue Brotherhood – sitting behind the reins. But it did not stagger him as much as the figure sitting next to Skinner did.

  It was a girl no older than seventeen, with black curls and a coat made of a coyote’s pelt.

  Malekai recognized her instantly, for she had that look of defiance on her devious grin.

  Their eyes met, and for that fleeting moment it was as if the whole world had gone quiet. The expression on Malekai’s face began to shift; he was stunned at first, his eye focusing on the girl’s face while the rest of the world remained a blur. Soon, however, his face tightened with fury and drops of sweat began to form at his brow.

  Robyn Huxley had fooled him, ridiculed him, driven him to a rage that made him senseless. In his mind, he had spent years climbing the ladder patiently, had become the Captain of the Rogue Brotherhood, only to see it all collapse before him because of this one girl… And there she was, the gutless thing, escaping his grasp yet again…