Defiant Guardians Anthology

by Jacob Peppers

  The ground was disturbed in front of the doorway, and there were boot-prints everywhere. A wood axe lay near the door, its handle resting in the dirt. D’Jenn’s eyes went to the faces of the gods carved in the archway and shook his head.

  The townspeople came for them. Rounded them up right under the eyes of the gods.

  “What do you think happened?” The boy blinked at the open door. “Do you think they went to town?”

  D’Jenn nodded. “They went to town, alright. Not by their choosing, I’d wager.”

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “We’ll find out when we get back to town, kid.”

  The boy scowled at the ground in front of the cottage. “But—”

  Merrick stepped through the door. “They’re gone. House was ransacked, though nothing looks broken. Bastards probably showed up right after we left.”

  “The survivor is talking, then. We need to see her.”

  The boy scooted forward as Merrick made to climb in the saddle. “She’s at the inn, staying in one of the upstairs rooms. Everyone will be there by now.”

  Merrick settled onto his horse behind the youth. “That’s all we need.”

  “We need to pick up the pace.” D’Jenn clucked to his horse and turned it around. “Angry mobs tend to get gibbet-happy, and I’d rather not anyone get hanged before we talk to them.”

  Merrick shook his head. “Maybe we can keep anyone from being hanged at all.”

  “Or burned at the stake!” The boy turned a smile on D’Jenn as Merrick caught up. “I’ve never seen that one before. That’s what they do to sorcerers, though, isn’t it?”

  “No one’s getting burned at the stake.” Merrick’s eyes weren’t as confident as his tone.

  “That’s not what the Alderman said, and he knows better than you.”

  Merrick leaned over to look at the boy’s face. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

  The boy smiled. “He said when the Sherriff gets here, he’ll mete out the gods’ justice on the sorcerer and burn them at the stake. I saw the Sherriff once. He came through town two or three years ago to get a look at us.”

  Merrick shared a glance with D’Jenn. “The Sherriff is coming?”

  The boy nodded. “The attack happened on the road, so it’s the Sherriff’s business. The Alderman said he’ll probably be here tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful.” Merrick scowled at the trail ahead.

  ***

  The Lame Packhorse was jammed full of people when D’Jenn and Merrick dismounted. The boy had skittered away when they reached the edge of town, leaving Merrick and D’Jenn to ride in silence. The lengthening shadows and time in the saddle hadn’t softened the scowl on Merrick’s face.

  Shouting filtered through the open door of the inn, echoing across the packed dirt of the street. Mules and donkeys shuffled at the hitching rail as D’Jenn and Merrick secured their mounts. The argument inside the inn seemed to be reaching a peak.

  “The survivor’s upstairs.” Merrick grimaced at the open door of the inn. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You think they’ll balk when we go inside? The gods only know what stories have been cooked up in our absence.” D’Jenn turned to walk inside but stopped as Merrick grabbed his arm.

  “Wait.” Merrick glanced to the door and looked down the street. “Why don’t you go speak with the survivor? I’ll head to the chapel and try to convince the chaplain to let me see Kira and Aram. We need to talk to them again, and they liked me a lot better than you.”

  D’Jenn nodded. “Alright. If you think you’ll have better luck without me, go ahead. I’ll find out what happened on the road.”

  “I’ll meet you here when I’m done.” Merrick offered his hand.

  D’Jenn accepted the handshake. “See you then.”

  Merrick moved down the street and walked out of sight. D’Jenn watched until he disappeared and turned back to the inn. The noise from the arguing patrons drifted to his ears, and D’Jenn loosened the muscles in his neck.

  I hope they don’t want to ask me questions.

  He slipped through the door of the inn and kept to the back wall, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. An older fellow stood in the center of the room, gesturing with his hands as he argued with another man. He was red-faced and balding, with veins protruding from the skin on the sides of his head.

  A crowd of noisy people surrounded the arguing pair, all shouting over one another. Some pointed angry fingers, while others waved their hands for order. No one looked in D’Jenn’s direction.

  He stole up the stairs and entered the hallway above without drawing attention. A young girl was just closing a door as he mounted the landing, and she offered him a smile as she moved for the stairs. D’Jenn reached out a hand and caught the girl’s elbow as she passed.

  “Apologies, but which room is housing the survivor?”

  The girl blinked at him. “From the attack on the road?”

  No, from the wrath of the bloody gods.

  “Aye, from the road.”

  “The one I just—wait, who are you?” The girl turned and peered at his face. “I don’t recognize you.”

  “I’m not a local.” D’Jenn tried to give the girl a smile. “I’m investigating the attack.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re with the Sherriff’s men? He’s already here?”

  “He’ll be along.” D’Jenn gestured down the stairs. “Do me a favor and keep people from coming up here. That argument doesn’t sound friendly, and I don’t want them accosting the victim.”

  The girl nodded as she stepped down the staircase, but she favored D’Jenn with a suspicious look. He ignored the girl and strode to the doorway she’d indicated, keeping an air of confidence in his movements. In his experience, confidence was the most powerful element of any disguise. The girl watched him for a moment but disappeared when he knocked on the door.

  “Yes?” The reply was muffled, but the voice on the other side was feminine.

  D’Jenn cleared his throat. “Apologies for the disturbance. My name is D’Jenn. I’m investigating the attack on your caravan and I’d like to speak with you.”

  A shuffling noise sounded from the room. Metal scraped as the bolt was retracted and the door cracked. The face of a young girl filled the opening—rounded features, full lips, and eyes rimmed with the redness of grief.

  This is a young lady, not a child.

  The girl sniffled and blinked up at him. “Can you say that again?”

  D’Jenn smiled and bowed to the young woman, balling his right fist over his heart. “My name is D’Jenn. I’m investigating the attack.”

  A smile tickled the corners of the girl’s lips, but it died before it could brighten her face. “Of course. I’m Hellyanne.”

  “Could I come in, Hellyanne?” D’Jenn kept the smile on his face. “It will only take a moment.”

  “Of course.” Hellyanne stepped aside, pulling the door open.

  The room had nothing of the girl’s belongings save for a colorful shawl. A pair of boots sat in the corner, covered with dirt. A censer and mug sat by the bed. The bedding was rumpled from where the girl had been resting.

  Hellyanne herself was a slight girl with dark hair and haunting eyes. She was on the cusp of womanhood—the kind of girl who would one day blossom into a striking beauty. Even the grief in her expression couldn’t mar the effect.

  The girl retreated to the bed and pulled the shawl around her shoulders. “I…I’ve already told the townspeople everything I know.”

  D’Jenn stepped to a place near the bed and crouched on his haunches. Cagey people always felt more at ease when spoken to at their own level. He didn’t want to tower over her.

  “I’m not with the townspeople.”

  Hellyanne gave him a confused look. “Your accent—I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

  “I’m a Sevenlander.” D’Jenn tried another smile. “Have you met one before?”

  Hellyanne nodded,
a look of realization on her face. “In the capital. My father bought things from them sometimes, when they were at market.”

  “What sort of things did he buy?”

  “Tobacco and firewine mostly.” Hellyanne smiled, as if a fond memory passed behind her eyes. “My father always said people pay the most for their vices.”

  D’Jenn chuckled. “That sounds like something my grandmother would say.”

  Hellyanne nodded. She sniffled again and wiped her face when tears came to her eyes. D’Jenn gave her a moment to gather herself.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Hellyanne nodded, but her eyes dropped to her hands. “It was the boy. He did this.”

  “What boy?”

  “The one my father agreed to carry to Shundov.” Hellyanne’s face did a dance of emotion—sorrow, confusion, guilt. “He seemed so nice. Promised to help with the wagons. I…I didn’t think he could…he could do something like this.”

  “Why not?” D’Jenn watched her face. “How did it start?”

  Hellyanne gave D’Jenn a reluctant glance. “It…I don’t—”

  “Just start from the beginning. What was happening before the attack?”

  Hellyanne took a relaxing breath. “We’d stopped to rest one of the mules. She was chafing at her harness.”

  “And where was this boy? What was his name?”

  “Raven.” Her face contorted for a moment, but she controlled her sobs with another deep breath. “He was riding in the second wagon.”

  “Did something make him angry?”

  Hellyanne looked at him. “The boy?”

  “Aye.”

  Hellyanne stared at her hands. “I…well—”

  “It’s alright,” D’Jenn said. “You’re not in trouble, and you’re in no danger. I just need the truth.”

  “What are you going to do?” Hellyanne’s eyes were rimmed with tears.

  “Find the boy—Raven. That’s why I’m here.”

  “And when you find him?”

  D’Jenn looked Hellyanne in the eyes. “I’ll do what needs doing. Regardless, he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

  Hellyanne closed her eyes and nodded.

  “So, you stop to rest the mules. Raven’s in the second wagon. What happened next?”

  Hellyanne took a deep, fluttering breath. “I asked him to go for a walk with me.”

  “Raven?”

  Hellyanne nodded. “I like to walk when we stop. Look at the trees. It’s nice to have someone to talk to and…”

  “And he was a good-looking lad and close to your age.” D’Jenn sighed.

  Hellyanne nodded again. “I didn’t mean anything by it! I didn’t know—”

  D’Jenn held up a hand. “You did nothing wrong, Hellyanne. What happened next?”

  “Well, we walked for a little while.” She blushed. “He was nice. Soft-spoken. He seemed…I don’t know…sad, maybe. I liked him.”

  “What did he do?”

  Hellyanne let out a frustrated breath and stifled another sob. “He didn’t do anything. I asked him if he thought I was pretty, and he said he did.”

  Gods, I can see where this is going.

  “He was nice and had pretty eyes. I never get to talk to boys my age. Not ever. So…so I asked him if he wanted to kiss me.”

  D’Jenn sighed and nodded his head. “And he took things too far.”

  “No.” Hellyanne blushed even deeper and fiddled with her dress. “He was nice. I did all the kissing, really. He just…I don’t think he’d ever kissed a girl, either.”

  “What went wrong?”

  Hellyanne’s face contorted with grief. “My brother saw us. My father always has him watching me. They’re afraid the guards will do something to me, though it’s never happened.”

  “I see.” D’Jenn could imagine what might have happened next. “Your brother raised a fuss?”

  Hellyanne nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “I tried to tell him it was only kissing, that Raven hadn’t done anything, but he wouldn’t listen. Gannon is bigger than Raven, so it didn’t take much. Gannon beat Raven senseless and dragged him back to the road.”

  “What happened next?”

  Hellyanne wiped her eyes with the edge of her shawl. “I tried to tell the truth, but my father wouldn’t listen. He said he was within his rights to kill Raven if he wanted. I begged him not to—I begged!”

  “He tried to kill the boy?”

  Hellyanne shook her head. “He was mad enough, but mother talked him down to a whipping. Father went for his horsewhip, but Gannon wanted to beat on him some more. That’s when Raven came to.”

  D’Jenn winced. “During the beating?”

  Hellyanne nodded.

  Gods—his Kai must’ve awakened on its own.

  D’Jenn tried to imagine it—coming to his senses under the fists of an attacker. It was the kind of experience that would trigger an instinctive response. For a young wizard, inexperienced with using magic, it would have been blinding. With the ether screaming through his Kai, and the fists raining down on him, Raven’s gift would amplify the feeling of every blow.

  Hellyanne cleared her throat. “I’m…not sure what happened next.”

  D’Jenn met her eyes. “Magic?”

  “I think so.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  Hellyanne clutched the shawl to her chest. “Raven. He…he woke up and screamed at my brother—stop, stop—but Gannon kept going. I was yelling, too. I begged Gannon to leave him alone. I screamed at the guards, but no one would help him.”

  “What did Raven do?”

  Hellyanne closed her eyes. “He reached into the air, like he was grabbing something. Like he was snatching a fly.”

  “And then?”

  Sobs quivered in the girl’s chest. “Gannon…he just…crumpled. His feet came off the ground, but his body was…it was—”

  “I understand.”

  Hellyanne’s voice broke. “I just screamed. I didn’t know what to do! I just…stood there.”

  “That’s when things went crazy.”

  “Someone called Raven a sorcerer. Father went mad. Mother, too.” Hellyanne wiped at her eyes. “The guards—they all went for their weapons. I didn’t know what to do. I was just standing there. Just standing there.”

  D’Jenn took a deep breath. “When terrible things happen like that, it’s natural to freeze.”

  “It is?”

  “Aye. Plenty of men on the battlefield freeze.” D’Jenn smiled. “It happens to everyone. You did nothing wrong, Hellyanne. You need to remember that.”

  “Alright.” The girl closed her eyes. “I’ll try to remember.”

  “After Raven attacked your brother—”

  “He looked at me.” Hellyanne blinked at D’Jenn, a confused look on her face. “He gave me this look as if…I don’t know. For a moment, no one knew what to do. I thought he was going to kill me.”

  “Something happened before he could?”

  Hellyanne nodded. “The guards—they all had crossbows. One of them got Raven through the hand. Another bolt, it…it hit my father.” Her face twisted with sorrow at the words and she hid it in the fabric of her shawl.

  Was that chance, or an instinctive use of magic on Raven’s part?

  The poor girl sobbed into her shawl for a short while. D’Jenn looked away and gave her some time to collect herself. The room felt smaller as she cried, and D’Jenn’s presence felt more inappropriate by the moment.

  What a day she’s had.

  D’Jenn cleared his throat when her fit subsided. “How did you get away?”

  “I don’t know.” She closed her eyes again and took a calming breath. “Raven did something, and the wagon caught fire. I screamed so loud, I just…I just ran. I thought he was going to kill me, too.”

  “Did you see which way he went?”

  Hellyanne shook her head. “I ran away before…before it was over.”

  D’Jenn sighed and nodded. He rose
from his crouch and straightened his clothing. He moved to the door and paused before opening.

  “One last question. It was the woodcutter who secured Raven’s passage on your caravan?”

  Hellyanne nodded. “Master Aram. We knew him as well as anyone here. My father said that he seemed the honest sort. I never thought he’d…well, I never thought any of this would happen.”

  “And you told the townspeople?”

  Hellyanne’s face took on another confused look, but she nodded again. “I told them everything.”

  That’s why the mob went after them.

  D’Jenn put another smile on his face. “My thanks, Hellyanne. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  Hellyanne looked at her hands. “Who was he?”

  “Raven?”

  “Yes.”

  D’Jenn sighed. “Just a kid. A farm boy who got into some trouble.”

  “But he was a sorcerer, wasn’t he?”

  “All sorcerers are kids at some point.” D’Jenn bowed again as he opened the door. “Thanks for your time, Hellyanne.”

  “Are you going to kill him?”

  D’Jenn paused at the question. “Why do you ask that?”

  “You look like a killer.” Hellyanne blushed as she said the words. “I don’t mean…it’s just…I don’t know if I want him to die. I guess he has to, but…”

  “It’s alright to be conflicted, just like it’s alright to freeze.” D’Jenn tapped on his chest. “Some people have simple hearts—they always know how to feel about everything. It’s good that you don’t.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do.” D’Jenn ducked his head. “Goodbye, Hellyanne.”

  “Goodbye.”

  D’Jenn left the same way he’d come, ducking through the doorway as someone in the common room called out to him. The night was balmy outside, with insects chirping in the darkness. The smell of roasting stew wafted from the inn, making D’Jenn’s stomach grumble. He hadn’t eaten all day.

  The streets were empty, save for the animals tied to the hitching rail outside The Lame Packhorse. The windows of the buildings in town were all lit with candlelight. People sat on wooden porches, watching the street with grim eyes.

  Where in the Six Hells is Merrick?

  D’Jenn went to gather his mount and found Merrick’s horse missing. He paused and looked over the mounts at the rail, hoping he’d missed it. His second inspection confirmed the beast’s absence.