“Welcome! I know it’s been a while, gents, but we have an issue. This man over here, Trevin has lost his—”
“It’s Shadow Strider!” A fossil of a man called out from atop his mount.
Trevin smiled awkwardly, not sure if he should say anything, but he didn’t have the chance to anyway.
“Yes, yes, Guffyn that is right. He has lost his son out ‘ere and them damn regulators must’ve brought him past since the description matches up!”
The motley assortment of Minutemen grumbled and jeered, as if they had been waiting for an excuse to do something about the unwelcome visitors that had plagued them lately.
“Well I’d say we have their blessing.” Handyn turned back to them. “Let’s say we mount up, eh?”
“Can’t argue with that. Seems we are short a few horses though.” Trevin responded.
“Nah, you’ll be good. I’ve got a few laying around here somewhere.”
Indeed, in only a few minutes he returned with some mounts for them and handed back the now dirt encrusted blunderbuss. With that, they mounted up and followed Handyn to the road. The rest of the Minutemen formed up in a neat column behind them and followed along.
“So…what are we doin’ when we get there?” Gully leaned over and asked his old friend.
Handyn turned around without missing a beat. “We’re gonna give them a good ol’ fashioned ass whippin’, that’s what!”
Trevin shrugged and nodded. Not the most eloquent way of putting it but it would certainly do for now. The mid-morning quickly grew into high noon as the sun blazed overhead. In the distance a broken outline of a castle could be seen overlooking a village below, or at least what once was a village.
“Wonder what happened here…” He thought out loud.
“Ah…well it’s a long story.” Handyn started without even looking back. “The short of it was some sort o’ plague that some old drunkard of a wizard apparently brought on by accident. I still think it’s bullshit, but it is what it is. Lands cursed, nobody wants to come back, and with no serfs to pay up the castle lord went to find greener grass. ‘Twas a sad time…used to be so beautiful ‘ere! Turn and follow!”
The nostalgic reminiscence was short lived, as Handyn abruptly cut hard to the right down a hardly visible trail through some tallgrass. They took a wide, lazy circle to the back of the bluff and into a wooded area that was perhaps a half mile from the gatehouse of the castle. They were well concealed in the overgrown thicket, but it was clear the horses would struggle through it. The leader dismounted, and everyone else followed suit. A rough circle formed around Handyn, who grabbed a stick and started carving out a rough map in the dirt. It looked roughly like an outline of the castle and then a deep X was made some distance away.
“So this ‘ere is where we are.” Handyn tapped the stick against the X. “Now between ‘ere and there we have some cover, but we’re gonna have to spread out.” He emphasized this with two curving lines like a pincer towards the castle.
“Then what?” Gully asked with a hint of impatience.
“Then, we need to infiltrate. There should be old culverts on both sides of the walls. Assumin’ they haven’t collapsed, that should be our ticket in!”
“Uh-huh…well what about sentries? We need a way of dealing with them. But we don’t even know my son is here so—”
“Don’t you worry about that! Come with me and let’s scope it out a bit. Minutemen…hold position!”
“Aye-aye!” The responded in almost perfect unison.
Gully, Trevin, and Handyn all walked out to the edge of the tree line and gazed upon the cracked and crumbling stone walls all but reclaimed by nature at this point. It was still a formidable fortress with a commanding view and no obvious ways in past the gatehouse.
“Here ya go. My eyes fail me these days, perhaps you could take a gander and see what’s goin’ on eh?” Handyn pulled out a pair of binoculars from a hard leather case and handed it over.
Trevin took them up and started scanning as best he could, but the picture was rather grimy and hard to make out. He looked at the lenses and realized that the problem was rather obvious. After a quick spit shine with his shirt, it was looking much cleaner.
“Apologies ‘bout that! Ain’t used that in a very long time!”
“I can tell.”
Now that he could actually see something, he could quickly make out a lone sentry standing atop the guardhouse. He was puffing hard on a pipe, lazily looking around the landscape. Besides from that, the castle looked abandoned as anyone else would’ve guessed.
“I just see one atop the gatehouse. Must be more inside…but how many?” Trevin asked to no one in particular.
“How good of a shot are you?” Handyn asked back.
“Well…good enough.”
“Think you can take ‘em out from here?”
“Probably need to get a little closer, but I’d say so. Looks like I have plenty of concealment I can get around in out there.”
Handyn whistled and soon the rest of the Minutemen came walking up.
“Alright, which one o’ you has that fancy-pants hex rifle?”
“Aye, over here.”
“Loaded?”
“Ain’t no other way!”
The fossil of a man who remembered Shadow Strider stepped forward.
“Hand it over to Trevin, he’s our sharpshooter now.”
The fossil handed over a stout and well-worn rifle that was long as he was tall. The barrel had a distinctive hexagonal profile with the rifling to match. Trevin thanked him and slunk out of the tree line, creeping closer under the cover of shrubs and tallgrass. He eventually found a nice depression which allowed him to comfortably lay prone and rest the rifle on a strong shrub. He looked down the diopter sight and tried to eyeball the distance. He hoped it was good enough, as he took the hammer back to full cock and made sure the cap was snug on the nipple. Some deep breaths helped lower his heartrate and get him into the zone. No pressure, only one shot. Aim small, miss small. He squeezed the trigger, the hammer fell, the rifle kicked back and barked loudly. A split second passed. The pipe hit the ground before the sentry did.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Don’t be gettin’ too comfy, we gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“You know the drill, let’s go.”
Naurus sighed deeply and savored the last moment he was able to be comfortable on the straw pile he was laying into. The morning had been a rush of activity all throughout the courtyard, but now it became abundantly clear most of it had been centered around the departure of the captor and captive onto wherever their next destination was. He stood up and walked over to the horses, laughing as he saw the Regulators struggle to calm down the skittish horse he was cursed to ride. They finally managed to yoke it up to a limber holding two caissons on it. Looking over at Rahlo’s horse, he saw that there was already a limber set up behind him. On it was a large, dark box with a prominent, black cylindrical protrusion. He walked closer and suddenly had a sinking feeling. It wasn’t just camping gear or tackle like he expected. It was a mortar. He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what in the world that they would be doing with such a thing.
His thoughts were interrupted by a hearty slap on his shoulder.
“Ready to saddle up, partner?”
Rahlo’s large, meaty hand was not much comfort in this situation.
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
He tried hard to sound confident but cared little for the result. He threw himself up on the saddle before the roan even realized what was going on. The secret was speed and surprise, but that didn’t stop the roan mare from fighting for the reins in its usual fit of temper. Once that was finally settled, they set off to the gatehouse to wait for the rusty old portcullis to raise itself enough so that they could get through. Outside, they set off down the long, gentle decline towards the mountains off in the distance. The sparkling whites of the peaks was oddly reminiscent of home for Naurus, yet for now
he could only wish for a miracle to bring him back in one piece.
“Ya ever seen an elf before, kid?” Rahlo slowed down and looked back, eager for a response.
“No, not really. Why?”
“Nothin’ in particular. Just curious. We may run into a few. We also may run into angry critters. Bears, badgers, and moose are common up there.”
“I see. Well hopefully they’re as nice as we are.”
“Doubtful. Godless savages they are…worshipping trees and the land they walk on as if its magick! The gods put it there, not the other way ‘round!”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to scare me.” Naurus wasn’t sure where this was going, but it didn’t sound good.
“Nah, don’t be scared. They’re savages, as I said. Hardly able to comprehend anythin’ past bows and arrows.” Rahlo said dismissively.
“So, that’s where we’re going, isn’t it?”
“Well now you’re catchin’ on. About time!”
A response was pondered, but not before a distinctly sharp sound in the distance behind them reached their ears. It sounded much like a whip crack and made both riders crane their necks around. Nothing unusual was to be seen. They both rode on for a few more minutes in silence, then a volley of distant cracks and pops reached them from the same direction. They both looked at each other, knowing exactly what it was.
“Shit…shit! How the…who…damnit!” Rahlo stammered and circled his horse around, visibly upset at the sounds of gunfire coming from the castle they just left. “For fucks sake! We need to go, come on now!”
Naurus spurred his horse on as best he could. Neither of them were going to hit much more than a trot with their cargo in tow, but it was the only thing they could do now. They meandered down a dirt path that was cut into the hillside and eventually the sounds of the gunfire either subsided or they were simply too far away to hear anymore.
“What was that?” He finally asked, thinking Rahlo might be able to elaborate now that they had made it a relatively safe distance.
“Hell if I know! I sure hope that was our guns firin’ though! Shit…we might be gettin’ followed. Here, take this just in case.”
Rahlo reached down and unholstered one of his rifles from its saddle case, handing it over. Naurus had never held something quite like it, but its darkly burnished wood and long, blued barrel felt nice in his hands. The polished brass receiver contrasted sharply with the blackened steel hammer and trigger. An engraving on the barrel read: Confederate Industries – Cal .45 Govt.
“Ain’t sure if it’s loaded, give it a good cyclin’.”
He obeyed, and the action cycled loud as the fall of a blacksmiths hammer, ejecting a cartridge straight into his face for an unpleasant surprise. He grabbed his out of his lap and looked at it. The tall brass casing held a shiny, silvery bullet within. He fumbled but eventually got it slotted back home into the loading gate.
“Good, all loaded up for whoever’s comin’!”
“Is this yours?”
“Nah, I already have one anyway. Ain’t no one has one that ain’t us!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean its government issue only! The simple folk have taken to callin’ them ‘Oppressors’ apparently. Dumb joke, thinkin’ we have no good reason for these. They sure don’t need ‘em! Why would some dirt farmer need these fine weapons?”
Naurus rolled his eyes and stifled back a snort, throwing the Oppressor over his shoulder by its sling and looking ahead at the valley that yawned before them. A dark shadow fell over them from a large cloud that blotted out the sun. Looking behind, he still saw no one and nothing of interest. He wanted to ask more questions about who would be chasing them, but figured it was best to not agitate his captor in the current mood.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Is he in there?”
“Nope, no sign.”
“So this is all there is?”
“Yeah, all we found anyway.”
Trevin cursed under his breath, eyes darting around the courtyard in agitation, wondering how late he was. His only prize was the ten Regulators that were now tied up in a circle, sitting in the middle of the courtyard. No sign of his son was to be had, even though they had complete surprise and there was hardly a fight before the garrison in this castle was overwhelmed by the sudden influx of Minutemen who took advantage of the unguarded drainage culverts.
Trevin walked over to the roped-up men, none of them looking to be in particularly cheery spirits. All their weapons, equipment, and any other useful accoutrements had been stripped from them, and still more was being piled into the courtyard from inside the keep. It was clear none of them had ever anticipated such a thing happening on an otherwise uneventful day in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Trevin slowly circled them, attempting to get a bead on which one might be the commander or at least the most senior ranking member. There were no ranks or identifying insignia to be seen, and they all dressed rather similarly. A murmur started up suddenly, and Trevin craned his neck to listen.
“Anyone seen Limmy?”
“No…wasn’t he on lookout?”
He quickly zeroed in on the two that thought they weren’t being listened to, squatting down in front of them to remove that doubt from their minds.
“A lookout you say? Pray tell, was he up there on the gatehouse by any chance?”
“Yes…where is that coward?” One of the Regulators spat.
“Oh I’m sure he would’ve run away if he knew what was coming. Too bad he couldn’t outrun my gun.”
The Regulator diverted his eyes uncomfortably, then suddenly perked back up.
“Wait…you and that kid…y’all got that same funny accent and—”
He failed to finish his sentence before a sharp elbow jab in the ribs thanks to the captive next to him replaced his words with a groan of pain. Trevin heard all he needed to hear though. He knew he was hot on the trail and didn’t want to waste any more time than he had to. He needed to find Gully, so he walked back to the main hall of the keep only to find his friend in the middle of a snack consisting of bread, cheese, and wine.
“Nice that you found yourself something useful to do.”
“All this chasin’ yer damn kid into the sunset makes me hungry!”
“Well finish up, we gotta go soon.”
“Why?”
“Because my son is out there, that’s why! One of these bums was just talking about how some kid was here and had the same accent I did. That’s why!”
“Alright…alright. Fucks sake, I hope we finally catch up. I can feel myself getting years older in the time I’ve been ‘ere!”
Trevin decided to help himself to some of the fare as well. Once that was done, they set out to get their horses outfitted with some saddlebags and gear that they were now borrowing from the Regulators. They treated themselves to tents, bedrolls, victuals, and even some new boots. The hats and bandanas would be handy, but even more useful were the guns they plundered from the garrison. Revolvers and rifles aplenty, they hadn’t been this well armed since they left home. Handyn stopped by as they were busy fitting their mounts with saddles.
“I’m feelin’ bad for ya, I really do wish we were faster. If it’s any consolation—”
“It’s quite alright, Handyn.” Trevin dropped the strap and looked over. “Not your fault anyway. At least now we have plenty of tackle, and some good weapons for that matter. I should be the one apologizing for breaking down your door!”
“Nah, don’t be. Desperate times, desperate measures. If I were in your shoes, I’d do the same. If nothin’ else, y’all sure are welcome back anytime. Just knock on the front door, would ya?”
Trevin laughed and shook the hand that was extended to him. With their steeds all loaded up and saddle bags practically overflowing, they waved their good byes to the Minutemen and made their way out the front gate. They veered off to the left and peered down into the valley expanse. He pulled out a borrowed spyglass and scanne
d ahead with it. Off some distance ahead, a pair of very tiny, slowly moving dots made their way away from him. They looked hardly different than ants at this distance, but now was not the time to dawdle. He spurred his horse on and Gully followed down the narrow, overgrown path which bore fresh hoof prints. Not only that, but parallel indentations from wagon wheels.
“Maybe you were right…” Gully said suddenly, scanning the tracks on the path.
“I’m always right!”
“My ass you are! If you were so right I wouldn’t have gotten pasted back there in Handyn’s…thanks for nothin’!”
“Oh like you haven’t been brain-damaged already? We both know you’ve been punched, kicked, and bludgeoned far too much for your own good by now!”
“Yeah well, piss off. I told you I’m too old for this shit now!”
“So am I friend, so am I. The difference is, this is my last hurrah before retirement. Might as well be yours too!”
“Yeah, getting saddle sores is a real sweet party lemme tell ya…”
“Oh cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get the fuck over it! We at least aren’t stuck in some invalid’s home, wasting away with shit for brains. Be honest, what would you be doing besides getting trashed and fighting the local bums back home?”
“Well…actually I would be uh. you know…”
“Can’t say I know, but don’t worry, you can think all day long.”
They shared a laugh, hoping there were many more to come.
✽ ✽ ✽
There was something very unnatural about this otherwise desolate place. The sides of the ravine were pockmarked with craters of various sizes, some so large that trees that grown in them. The ground was a thick layer of scree and pebbles, with boulders strewn about haphazardly. Something just felt off, a feeling that he had learned to accept long ago as a sign that not all was what it seemed.
“So what’s with all these craters?” His voice echoed subtly.
“Hm? Say what?” Rahlo wasn’t paying enough attention it seemed.
“These craters, what are these? They don’t look natural at all.”
Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2) Page 17
