Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2)

by N. A. Oberheide

  Naurus groaned and shook his head vigorously. The milk was a welcome addition to an otherwise depressing morning and added nicely to the grits and bacon that they ate. Gammy seemed to enjoy it too, complimenting Rahlo on how sweet he was for making her a sammich.

  “So, when are we heading out?”

  “Raring to get goin’, huh partner?” Rahlo asked with a cock of his bushy eyebrow.

  “Well, this is a nice place, but I have a feeling this isn’t the mission.”

  “You’re damn right it ain’t. It’s not ours, but my mission yes. Gammy doesn’t have much help ‘round these parts. Just needin’ to check in on her. Let’s pack up then and hit the road. We’re about a good day’s travel from where we need to be.”

  So they were soon packed up and all saddled up again. Naurus’s mount showed no improvements in its temperament overnight, but he finally made it on and gave a good tug at the reins for his trouble. They set back off down the dirt path, Ruby looking on with a forlorn face as they rode off. Naurus wondered if having a dog along would make the ride less boring, but then realized Gammy would be completely alone if that were the case. It was a nice thought regardless, the thought of an animal that loved unconditionally instead of a near stranger who decided dragging him along as a piece of collateral on something secretive. Something secretive, just what I came out here for. What a mistake. This is one way to bite off more than I can chew. I can only hope Morra was right, that Fortune will eventually smile down on me. I bet we’ve lost my dad all the way out here. How the hell am I ever getting home? The thoughts of dread and the anxiety of never seeing home again bubbled up but he forced them to the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn’t find hope in such thoughts.

  The scenery was still mind-numbingly repetitive, but at least the path was smooth and the weather permissive. The occasional herd of cattle or sheep cut across the road along with the herding dogs that accompanied each group. This seemed like the land time forgot, a land untouched by either war or the cosmopolitan politics that plagued cities. It was strangely comforting to Naurus in a way. He didn’t feel like the harbinger of war he once was, but instead a mere visitor passing through. This was a nice thought to cling onto, at least temporarily. As the miles wore on, the landscape became considerably more densely wooded and hilly. A very distant mountain range could be made out through the thick haze on the horizon.

  “Where are we?”

  “Right where we need to be.” Rahlo smiled, knowing that wasn’t the answer that was expected.

  Naurus sighed deeply. “Whatever you say.”

  “Hey now, look.” Rahlo dropped back and rode side by side. “I know you probably hate me after what happened to you back at Outpost Frontier.”

  “Back where?”

  “Back at the old shitty fort we brought you to. I didn’t want to treat ya like that, but I had my orders. Big Boss has his ways, and it ain’t like this is no minor incident. You idiots brought out the Rapid Reaction Regiment! You could have been killed by them but damn you got lucky.”

  “Yeah so lucky you almost killed me.”

  “I didn’t make the cut. I didn’t expect the moron who did it to go so deep. But he ain’t too smart, and I apologize for that. I really do. I pray you can let it go, I know that deep down inside ya don’t know what all this is about. But it ain’t about you. You are just convenient for us in our current situation.”

  “So I’m disposable…how comforting.”

  Rahlo pretended like he didn’t hear it.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “This is bullshit!”

  “Oh shut up! You have a better plan?”

  “This ain’t no plan! I agreed to humpin’ the boonies with you, not terrorizing the locals like we was some god damned brigands. I’m too old fer this shit!”

  “So am I, but that doesn’t change our current situation. I’ll ask again, do you have a better plan?”

  Gully stroked his long, bony hands through the thick dark hair on his nape. He seemed to zone out.

  “Well…?”

  There was no response. Trevin waved a hand in front of his face, and Gully suddenly snapped back to reality.

  “I was thinkin’!”

  “My ass you were. The lights are on but no one’s home up there! Looks like you don’t have a plan, so pay attention. I need you to create a diversion at the front and I’m going in the back. Nice and easy, you know the signal if there’s trouble. All good?”

  Gully sighed deeply then looked out from the tree line they were hiding in. About a hundred yards away lay a simple brick homestead, surrounded by some modest and untilled crops with a smattering of goats and chickens in pens near the house. A trail of blue-grey smoke curled out of the chimney, wafting away in the gentle breeze of the cloudy dusk. Trevin stood up and started making his way over, Gully followed suit reluctantly. A strange growling startled Trevin, who turned around to find Gully sheepishly pointing at his stomach and shrugging his shoulders.

  “You better not give us away like that!”

  “Oh shut yer thievin’ mouth. This ain’t my idea!”

  They continued their slow and deliberate approach up to the homestead. There was a small window through which they could occasionally see the shadow of a figure passing back or forth. As they drew closer, they passed the chicken coop. A sigh of relief overcame them that no cock crowed, but that was soon overridden by the bleating of the goats who saw them approaching. They both ducked into the prone position behind a watering trough and peeked around it carefully. A woman casually strolled past the window but didn’t look out. A few minutes passed, the painstaking silence punctuated by the bleating of goats. No doors opened, no footsteps could be heard. All seemed to be clear. The hungry duo slowly got up to a crouch, seeing a bald man pass by the window as well.

  “Two so far.” Gully whispered, stating the obvious as he always did when concentrating intently.

  Trevin didn’t answer, there was no need to. They were acting more on instinct and muscle memory at this point. Indeed, it had been decades since they last had to pillage and forage behind enemy lines. Gully was a young, bratty scoundrel back then and Trevin took a liking to that inner fire and rebelliousness. Being far older and higher in rank, Trevin was his ranking officer but that didn’t stop them from acting off the cuff and far out of line of what was expected of them in a ‘just and noble war’ as it was called then. But that was then and now they were far older, wiser, and still acting like young fools. It was a choice though, a choice that they had to see through lest they tuck tail and run back home. Gully started parting ways to the front of the house and Trevin grabbed his shoulder to stop him. Gully looked back in confusion. The confusion soon cleared up as Trevin put his hand on the blunderbuss and took it from him. The distraction was supposed to be non-threatening. Merely a lost soul looking for directions. With a nod of heads they both made it to their marks.

  A gull cried softly in the distance. Trevin pressed up against the exterior wall next to the door. He could hear a faint rapping on the door from the other side of the house. Footsteps creaked through the floors. Old hinges cried out as the door was opened. A soft murmur of conservation made its way back, but no words could be made out. Trevin’s heart was pounding, he couldn’t believe he had to do this. But then he did it, because he was here for a reason. And that reason made him angry. And with that anger he planted his back foot and put his boot through the door. Not as he intended, but since the door didn’t break in, he yanked his boot back out as a shrill gasp filled the silence of the dusk. He smashed the door handle in with the butt of the blunderbuss and yanked the door open.

  He found himself inside a dining room attached to a small kitchen. A little girl, no older than ten, sat at the table all by herself. A meal had just been finished judging by the dirty dishes and half-filled mugs, but she sat there all alone, her large brown eyes wide like a doe as she clutched a stuffed doll with white knuckled terror. Trevin winced at the sight of what he was doing, but qu
ickly snapped to as he heard footsteps coming down a hallway. First, he saw a woman emerge, horribly pregnant and wearing a frilled, cornflower blue dress that did not at all match the dirty knife that Gully held to her neck. The woman looked just as terrified as Gully looked ashamed of what he was doing. It was strictly professional at this point, unlike the fire of hatred and vengeance that propelled them in their younger years.

  “Please…please take anything! Don’t hurt my baby! We…we don’t have much…please don’t hurt us!” The woman pleaded with a crackling drawl, clearly on the verge of tears even though her messy auburn hair covered part of her face.

  Trevin looked at Gully, then back at the woman then back at the little girl still frozen in terror at the table. Something wasn’t right. Indeed, something was very wrong. Trevin frantically signaled by holding a clenched fist above his shoulder and circling it rapidly. He turned tail and bolted out what was left of the back door, but not before grabbing a loaf of bread off the counter. The last thing he saw was Gully letting go of the woman, before he made it out and bolted. He could hear yelling behind him coming from the house but he paid it no mind. That was nothing new. What was new ended up being the loud bang that accompanied whatever slammed into his back, stinging fiercely and sending him sprawling across the dirt.

  He panted and wheezed, realizing the hard fall knocked the wind out of him along with forcing him to drop his loot and weapon.

  “Stop it right there, scum! That was just rock salt, next one is hot lead. Don’t you move!” A commanding voice boomed out behind Trevin.

  He instinctively closed his eyes, drew in a breath, focused and exhaled. He couldn’t see his own arms or hands now. Exactly as he intended. Instead of getting up, he crawled along the dirt but didn’t get very far before a large foot was firmly planted into his spine and pinned him down.

  “Ah yeah, a fuckin’ shapeshifter…of course it is! Those parlor tricks don’t work on me no more.” Trevin felt a cold, metal barrel press into the back of his head. “Show yourself…and I might yet not turn your dumbass into compost.”

  Trevin uncloaked himself, realizing this was no ordinary farmer. As soon as he did, he felt the barrel lift off from his head, then the considerable weight behind the foot let off his back as well.

  “Roll over, very slowly. Hands where I can see ‘em!” The order was barked, and the captive obeyed.

  Trevin found himself face to face with the bald man he had seen in the window earlier. The man cocked his head and squinted hard. He let go of his coach gun with one hand and grabbed Trevin by his lapel, yanking him up with a sharp force. Their faces were now only a foot apart. Something wasn’t right.

  “By my mother’s beard, I know you!” The man said with excitement. “You…god damn ya gotten old on me. Is it really you, Shadow Strider?”

  Trevin winced, but then exhaled in relief. Nobody called him that anymore, not since the war. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, as most ordinary folk were always suspicious of what lurked in the shadows, shapeshifters amongst them.

  “Are you uh…I don’t…my memory fails me?” The brain fart hit hard as he tried to explain why he was breaking into this man’s house, not only that but a man who remembered him from decades ago.

  “Yeah, can’t say I’m surprised.” The man unraveled the lapel from his meaty fist. “I served alongside ya…Third Scout Division, the Reckless Rangers, ‘member?”

  Trevin did remember being attached to them and nodded as such.

  “Well I’m Handyn, I would say I’m pleased to make your acquaintance again but—"

  “I know…I know.” Trevin didn’t really know what to say. “I really do apologize but…wait where’s my friend?”

  Handyn laughed. “Oh that scraggly lil’ scoundrel who holds knives to pregnant women? Let’s go check on ‘im, shall we?”

  Trevin reluctantly followed along, realizing this whole ordeal was probably avoidable, but then his stomach grumbled to remind him of exactly why it was unavoidable. They came in through the back door, and sure enough Gully was there. Only he was sprawled across the floor, face down and bleeding from his nose.

  “What uh…” Trevin stammered, still having no idea how to assuage the situation.

  “Oh he’ll be right. Just needs to take a lil’ nap. Go sit down there and lets me and you have a chat about things.” Handyn pointed to the table, and Trevin realized the little girl and woman were nowhere to be seen.

  “So, first things first.” Handyn grabbed a tankard off the table and took a swig, resting the coach gun in his lap. “I’ll take it there’s a reason a man like you might be kickin’ in back doors at this time of day in this neck o’ the woods. Do tell!” He smiled and locked his intense blue eyes onto his uninvited guest.

  “Well…you see it’s a hell of a story. But um,” Handyn wrapped his fingers against the table rhythmically, clearly getting impatient. “We were hungry, and broke, and we aren’t from around here and—”

  “Stop the presses!” Handyn bellowed, cutting him off. “You ain’t from ‘round here? You don’t fucking say? Tell me something I don’t know for a change.”

  “Right…right.” Trevin was a bit flustered and took a deep breath. “As I said, we were hungry and well…we tried to knock off a wagon and found nothing but cheap rotgut. So we kept on and wound up here. I really mean it when I say we didn’t mean you any harm! I’m not sure any amount of apology will make up for this, but we will leave. I’ll drag him out, you don’t need to—”

  “You won’t be draggin’ nobody out of ‘ere.” Handyn took another swig. “You hungry? Fine, we will feed you. You thirsty? Fine, have a drink. We are a hospital people ‘round these parts. I don’t know how it is back wherever you’re from, but ‘round here all you gotta do is ask.”

  “Uh…right. Glad to hear it. I’ll fix your door, just give me a hammer and some timber, I’ll do it right now!”

  “No need. I wanted an excuse to replace that half-rotted shit pile anyway. So, what brings you out here anyway? I’m sure you didn’t wind up out here without some sort o’ reason. You sure ain’t been starvin’ for long if you can still do all your shapeshiftin’ nonsense.”

  Trevin nodded in agreement and sighed. “You may not believe this, but I’m here because my son is out here somewhere. He came out on some sort of espionage mission all incognito with his commodore, but I’m pretty sure I saw her die back in Wedgewood.”

  “Aye? Well ain’t that some shit.”

  A moaning and groaning suddenly accompanied them. Gully started stirring, rolled over and grabbed his head as if it was about to split open.

  “Well, looky who decided to wake up!” Handyn cracked, clearly admiring his handiwork.

  Gully sat up and looked at them with bloodshot eyes. Dried blood had caked around his nose and mouth.

  “What…where…am I?” He groaned, struggling to get up.

  “Well Gull, come over here and sit a spell. Looks like you got the short end of this stick. Turns out this guy knows me and—”

  “I sure as shit ain’t know him!” Handyn spat, cocking his head. “Damn, you’re ugly.”

  “I know.” Gully said with obvious discomfort as he sat at the table and rubbed his face.

  “Well so what was y’alls plan after stealin’ out my larder?”

  “Finding my son, bringing him home, and ending all this nonsense. We’ve gotten a little desperate if you couldn’t tell.”

  Handyn laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, I can tell alright. Maybe I can be of some assistance then. As it so turns out, I saw a strange pair of folk pass by on horse the other day. One of them dressed like them Regulators that pass through here every so often. He had a younger fella with him, strange lookin kid too.”

  “Hair as white as grannies?”

  “Yeah, that be about right.”

  “That was him! So he did pass through!” Trevin could hardly hide his sudden elation and even Gully seemed to perk up. “Well that certainly helps.
We can get out of your hair now.”

  “Nah, stay a spell. Y’all can sleep out in the barn tonight at least. Plenty o’ hay out there. Why don’t you go out and get my bread back and I’ll find something to go with it here, eh?”

  Trevin couldn’t argue with a plan like that, so he did exactly that. Back inside, he did his best to brush the dirt off the thick rind of the bread. Handyn set out some fried mushrooms and cheese curds left over from the meal that was so rudely interrupted. Complimented with some raw milk, they ate and drank over the nostalgic reminiscence of times long past. As the night wore on, Trevin realized how little he remembered about Handyn, but the opposite was also true. Apparently, his host had drifted from job to job, eventually settling on homesteading and small-time farming which is how he wound up out here. After enough food, even Gully found himself in surprisingly good spirits for someone who had been punched out cold not all that long ago. It grew late, the moon was high, and they were escorted out to the barnyard inn.

  There was indeed plenty of hay inside, and a fair share of companions to share the barn with. They took up a stall next to some cows and horses. It was smelly, but sure beat being exposed out in the wilderness as the distant howling of wolves reminded them in no plain terms.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “There she is! What a beauty to see once again!”

  “Who? What?”

  “Is the sun in your eyes? Up there!”

  Looking ahead there wasn’t all that much to see that would be considered beautiful by his standards at least. In fact, the only thing of any note was a squalid looking village overlooked by a castle on a small bluff just above it.

  “Yeah, I see it. So, are we just passing through?”

  “No, we’re stayin’ here for the night, partner!”

  As they drew closer, it became obvious the village was long since abandoned. Most of the roofs were collapsed in and nature had reclaimed most of the buildings and the main road that ran through it. Naurus thought this was some sort of joke initially, but then realized that they were riding straight up to the bluff instead, to the castle that wasn’t in much better shape than the village it overlooked. Its cracked and crumbling limestone walls were ringed around an inner keep that was cracked and holed up, with heavy vines sprawling to the top. They finally came up to the gatehouse, but no one could be seen from here either. Rahlo dismounted and walked up to the portcullis. He loudly banged a rock against the rusty iron gate, but no response came from within.