Hilfords Chronicles: The Black Powder Incident

by VM Sapone

  Ezren opened one of two front doors to Hilfords’ Main Hall. It was a heavy chunk of wood, nearly twice as tall as him. It was hard to tell that morning had come, with all the cloud cover. Rain poured heavily down, beating against the gravel drive beyond the entrance. Above the front patio, a small roof extending from the building kept Ezren dry. He waited there, leaving the door open.

  He couldn’t help thinking about Gerdie and her odd ordeal. What was the chance that she’d stumble upon them, of all people? And what was with Danfy and the talking fox? He had to remember to ask him about it, later. On top of all that, it was somehow connected with something Torvik was trying to sort through. Strange, the way things came together.

  Gerdie’s parents would arrive later in the day. Van said his uncle, Lestrik Vale, would bring them in by carriage. Ezren had never met Vale, but Van talked about him once or twice. Something about a big house on the Stilt River, just passed Overhill. The man owned a lot of land.

  A large draft horse appeared at the gate, far down the drive. Hoofs crunched gravel as the cab approached through the mist and grey. Behind the horse a driver was visible, draped in oiled wool, with a little flat cap covering his head. The driver sat atop the two-wheeled cab.

  It was Torvik’s cab, Ezren knew. They’d be riding in it all the way to the forest. Four of them, stuffed into the small cabin of the little carriage. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

  The cab pulled up at the steps, beneath the coach-roof, giving the driver some reprieve from the constant downpour. The side door opened and Torvik stuck his head out.

  “Coming?” the Captain called out.

  Ezren nodded. “Be right there.” He turned and stepped back into the Hall.

  Van sat near the front doors, at the steward’s desk on the left, with Gerdie. At the sight of Ezren, Van stood up and told to Gerdie that it was time to go.

  Once they were all loaded aboard, the cab was packed tight. Gerdie fit nicely between Torvik’s bulk and the side of the carriage, while Ezren and Van sat hip-to-hip across from them. Ezren had to push his ass back against the bench to keep his knees from bumping Torvik’s.

  “Good morning,” Van said, adjusting his coat.

  “We’re about to wander a forest, on foot, in the rain,” was Torvik’s reply.

  Van shrugged. “So, not good morning?”

  Gerdie looked up at the Captain. “We weren’t far from the road,” she said. “It shouldn’t be a terribly long walk.”

  Torvik thumped a meaty hand on the roof signaling the driver to go. The reins snapped and they were off.

  As the cab cleared the campus wall, two Guard cabs waiting outside on the street began to follow.

  The city rolled by quickly. Tall stone buildings drifted by as the wooden wheels crunched on cobblestones. People ran for cover from the rain, while others passed leisurely with umbrellas. The fields north of Mirinol were quiet with mist rolling along the hills. The blacksmith’s shop issued clouds of smoke while red heat glowed within. Goats and sheep stood on the hills, chewing grass. They passed through the outer village to the road that led east toward the river. Soon they were in the middle of nowhere, tall trees flanking the road on either side. Every now and then a cart or carriage rolled by, heading toward the city.

  After about an hour, Gerdie started looking for the spot where the carriage had gone into the woods. She’d point out a path and Torvik would stop the cab. The driver reined in the horse and Torvik would stomp out in the rain to see if there was anything there. They did it twice. A good size puddle formed on the floor of the cab every time Torvik came back. On the third stop, things looked more promising.

  The forest was less rainy, though no less wet than the rest of the world. Spring had sprung in full and the trees wore their green canopies with pride. The leafy ceiling stopped the rain high above, with the occasional fat drop making its way down. Gerdie led them through the flattened, wide path that the carriage took. It wasn’t that she’d recognized it or even that she was an expert on the road between Overhill and Mirinol, but she knew how far and how close she was to either place from the length of the ride.

  “This has to be it,” said Gerdie. She took the lead and bounded through the forest with no care for the mud or the wet underbrush that soaked her dress.

  Torvik followed the girl with Van and Ezren close behind. The rest of Torvik’s Guards came in a row. There were seven of them, like a marching rank of soldiers.

  Far ahead, Gerdie squeaked. “It’s here, it’s here!”

  “Keep your voice down!” Torvik shouted. “They could still be here.”

  They were. They’d never left. The men that traveled with the black carriage were right next to the vehicle. They’d died fighting something and lay in the wet leaves and dirt. Six men lay motionless, sprawled with swords in their hands. One had a flintlock, which Torvik scooped up and threw to one of his men.

  The black carriage sat in the mud. Black paint covered the entire thing. The size of it made the Captain’s cab look like a toy. Ezren thought it looked like something a noble might ride around inside. The horses were gone, something had ripped or chewed through the harnesses.

  “How many men did you say there were?”

  Gerdie looked skyward, thinking. “Six or seven,” she said, finally.

  “I need a definite number, Gerdie. If one got away from here it could mean trouble for us.”

  “One driving, two inside, three on horseback.”

  “There are six dead men here. You’re saying that’s all of them?”

  Gerdie nodded looking a little less than sure. She probably never thought she’d have to give an accurate account of events.

  Torvik looked up, passed Ezren and Van, to his guards. “See what we can find! I need to know everything about this operation!”

  The guards sorted through the dead men’s pockets, belts, pouches, and boots. After that, they ripped and pried open every door and drawer in the carriage. The trunk at the rear was especially hard to open, but they finally broke the latch with an iron pry-bar.

  The guards stacked everything they found on a less muddy spot of ground. Four big crates of straw-packed opium, sticky and black and smelling like perfume. Six quarter-barrels of black powder. Six rapiers. Two flintlocks (Ezren found a smaller one under the carriage and hid it in his boot).

  Among the things that didn’t get stacked on the wet forest floor were papers and notebooks. Torvik held onto those. He guarded them carefully, slipping them into a pocket inside his grey, wool waistcoat.

  The Captain barked orders in the chill, damp forest. Ezren and Van squeezed back into the cab with Gerdie and waited. The guards left with instructions to bring two horses back. The carriage had to be driven to Hilfords and hidden deep on campus. Torvik had a use for it. He had a plan.

  A Long Day Grows Longer