by Lee LaCroix
Before long, the trio had left the surrounding city limits and were in a region of soft hills and jutting outcrops of rock. The grasses were sun-bleached and shined a multitude of brown, yellow, golden, and gray and gathered in spiny piles or shot up around the emerging rock. The rock formations were like the ribs of the land, for they jut out in tiny towers or gentle curves. The tips of the towers were always the smoothest because they were worn down by the elements with the passing of time, and they became rougher and more unshapen farther towards the ground. To Novas, they were like trees. Not trees of the green field but trees of the rocky earth. He was glad to be out of the city again and be adventuring to new places.
This new adventure had Novas invigorated. No longer did he or his allies fight against shadows. They knew their enemy, and they knew foes could be vanquished. Although Novas was experienced and tested in the fires of combat, the trio still approached every corner and passage with caution. Even though he may have invited any challenge, Novas knew better than to be reckless. Novas glanced over at Domminal, who had the striding gait of the ranger like his father and was lean and wiry. Domminal kept his eyes on the horizon, on the sun, on the shadows, and the spaces between trees.
“Say Dom, how long have you been working with Berault? I know I’ve been out of the city for some years, but I cannot recall seeing you at meetings with the other rangers,” Garreth questioned.
“I’d say about six or seven years now, I believe. I’ve been up and down both coasts more times than I can count, and I never stay in one place too long, but I often visit the capital to submit reports and bring news,” Domminal informed with a shrug.
“That sounds like the life of a ranger alright. It is possible our paths have not crossed, I suppose,” Garreth admitted.
Miles from the capital, the road became less uniform and straight and began to rise and fall with the rigid shape of the land. The road curved downwards and went into a valley where the shoulders were covered with rolling pebbles that seemed to be moving without end. There was a sharp rock outcropping that rose several feet high and formed a plateau that impeded the straightness of the road. The flattened stone road curved close along the plateau’s rock face, and Novas put his hand along the bumpy and cracked surface as he passed. Parts of the rock seemed steadfast and immobile while other parts diminished like sand in the wind, falling like earthy mist behind him. It was soon apparent why the town ahead was called Bouldershade, or at least Novas could assume. The valleys became sheerer, the outcroppings more common, and freestanding masses of rock could be found at their summits.
“Let’s take a break here. This place seems to be a cooler spot to rest,” Garreth requested as he unshouldered his pack and placed it down on a clearing just to the right of the road.
In this jagged area, there were few trees to be found, so the party had to make due with finding shade in other natural formations. Novas, Domminal, and Garreth put their backs to the rock wall and stretched out their legs. Garreth fished out some sticks of jerky from his bag and offered them to Domminal and Novas, who were grateful to accept.
“My thanks,” Domminal replied, tearing into a piece.
Novas stared across the road, up the rocky hill, and to the clear blue sky. He chewed his jerky, took a swig of water, and then breathed in the arid air. Novas moved a small boulder to his left and watched as tiny lizards scurried from their place of coolness into further respite within shadowed cracks in the ground. Amused, he raised his head and watched the tiny stones tumble across the hill face. Novas was surprised to see a larger boulder become dragged by the stony current. Gaining speed and momentum, it rolled and hopped down the hill until it skipped over the roadside ditch and cracked into pieces on the road.
“Well, that looks unsafe,” Novas stated as he rose to his feet.
“Yes, the Crown Aegis used to maintain this stretch of road quite thoroughly. In their absence, caravaneers have had to clear the road themselves. The duty will once again be taken up before long,” Garreth explained.
Novas paced towards the rock and started to kick at the shattered fragments, pushing them off the road. He had little better to do and did not feel very tired.
Before long, the stone had been cleared away, and Novas headed back to their place in the shade. He traced the outline of shadow on the road that was shaped by the cliff above. The edge was flat and shrunk into cracks in some places while rising to smooth hills in others. There was a rotund boulder emphasized by the shadow, and as Novas came across the silhouette, he saw two narrow figures rise on each side of it. As Novas looked up to survey the cliff, he was almost blinded by the sun’s piercing glare but swore that he could see movement in that split second of sight. The cliff spat tiny stones before giving way to the boulder’s gigantic weight, and Novas could see it rolling off the edge.
“Watch out! Move!” Novas yelled and pointed.
Garreth had only a split second to look up before the boulder was midair, and he heaved Domminal by the shoulder and rolled to the other side. The stone hit the earth with a thundering smash where they had been sitting and rolled onto the road before spinning and stopping. Garreth glared in disbelief at the cliff top and the boulder before brushing the dust off himself and standing up.
“Is everyone okay?” Garreth asked as he continued to look around.
“I’m fine,” Novas said, breathing hard.
“Same here,” Domminal replied with a cough and brushed the dust from his cloak.
“That was close,” Novas stated as he walked over to the boulder and failed to move it much.
“We are lucky that you saw that in time. Things would bode unwell if not so,” Garreth confessed.
“I saw a particular trick to the shadow before it fell. I swear I saw two figures beside the stone just before,” Novas explained as he pointed towards the shadow and where the rock fell.
“Figures? You mean like people?” Domminal queried.
“It happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure. What else could have moved something so heavy?” Novas protested.
“We had better be more cautious as we continue. Whether from pranksters or assassins, we cannot incur any injury this early our journey,” Garreth warned as he shouldered his pack.
The other two picked up their gear, and they all continued their travel down the road. There was a far bit of road before they could even access the cliff top to the right of the road where the ridge sloped down and met the earth. Even then, a quick look backwards developed no insights to the nature of their attacker.
The travelers continued on for many more hours and left the area of sloping hills and cliffs. The land flattened for the most part, sections of forests reappeared, and wild bush was found scattered about. Still, the rocky outcroppings remained prevalent on the plains, leaving recesses in the ground for dens and caves where the forest was not permitted to grow. The sun was just beginning to redden in the sky as Garreth peered into the distance, looking for Bouldershade.
“Tell us what you know about the town,” Garreth requested as they walked along.
“As Bouldershade was home to the first quarries in Malquia, labour and mining have always gone hand in hand there. A particular black slate is found in the caverns around the city, and they use it in all manner of construction where they can because it is strong and glossy if refined. The town often relies on trade for their essentials, which usually isn’t a problem seeing on how the town lies on the Great North Road. Recently, merchants and caravaneers have avoided the town and have taken to more uncommon or perilous paths because of highwaymen and Blackwoods influence. The town’s proximity to Deepshine makes it very plausible that there may be Blackwoods harboured there. It’s up to us to find out how many and in which fashion,” Domminal described.
“Any idea of where we should search for information first?” Garreth inquired.
“If we’re lucky to find a merchant who will talk, that may be a good place to start. Other than that, we can always round up rumour an
d gossip at the Rusty Pickaxe, their local tavern,” Domminal replied.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Garreth concluded.
The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Around a lengthy bend, the town emerged down a final stretch. The town was as Garreth saw it from afar. The majority of buildings were made from dark, aged wood and supported by steel and slate. The road primarily became shale as the travelers moved into town, giving their path much more shine in the sunlight. It seemed to be a town for the hard-working and industrious because the majority of folk wore brown linens and leather coverings such as caps or gloves. Those with their arms exposed had a carved tone as expected of labourers.
As they entered the border of the city, the trio of travelers were gazed upon by a disheveled crone wearing a dirtied gray apron over her billowing dress. She continued to sweep at the porch with a wood and straw-bound broom, not breaking her intentional inspection, and remained doing so until she passed from their view. Three men stood outside a stable discussing some business beyond the range of Garreth’s hearing. Not just viewing the traveler’s faces, the stable hands looked over at the travelers, their equipment, and their attire with a bold and obvious glare. As Garreth nodded at the trio, the three focused their attention on him. With the intensity of their whispering increasing, they turned their heads back towards their conversation. Garreth looked over at Novas and Domminal and shrugged.
There had seemed to be many labourers idling outside of their houses on this main stretch through the town, for Garreth recognized their sooty complexions, pitch-stained clothes, and their calloused hands. Between the resting pickaxes or the dejected look on their faces, the locals watched the visitors pace through town as if they had little else to do.
“Hey! Moss! Why don’t you go… catch us some fish or fetch us some wood!” a matron squawked as she peered through a door and whipped a cloth at her husband.
“I’m a miner, woman! You knew that when we got hitched. Bugger off!” the man replied with a wave of his hand before picking up a large jug and placing it to his lips, swilling deep.
Garreth oversaw this exchange and pondered to himself. By the looks of the town, it seemed that shale was found throughout city, and he even recollected seeing some of the material used in the buildings in the Lower Quarter. Even though he had seen the product of the town’s labour, Garreth wondered why all these labourers were in the streets at midday instead of in the mines. Was shale still in demand here? Was there still a demand for it to be mined? Did these people still work in the mine or did they at all? He did not have to wonder long though; where the honest worker was troubled, the Blackwoods could not be far behind.
On the right corner before the first intersection of Bouldershade, the Rusted Pickaxe stood. It was a squat tavern with a wide set of tiled windows that faced the street. There was a door with crafted shale ornaments in the shapes of stars, diamonds, and wave-like patterns. The three walked by and peered through the glass opening. The interior seemed like any other tavern to them because they could see the barman behind the bar at the back wall and a couple of filled tables with men on stools. Domminal grabbed the door and let the two hunters in.
The smell of burning wood settled over the scents of ale and sawdust as they entered, and Garreth did a quick look over the tavern like he always did when entering an unfamiliar place. As always, there were some faces that glared back in evaluation, and others that tried to do so less obviously. The wide window poured in light from outside, and the few places that the sun did not touch in the bar were illuminated by oil burning lamps or the fireplace. Garreth motioned towards some empty seats near the bar, and the three ventured over through the moderately filled tavern. As there was no minstrel at this location, only the rough grumble of the clientele, the occasional raised voice, and some mugs slammed against the table were to be heard.
Domminal and Garreth had a seat some paces from the bartender, and Novas stood behind them, looking out over the bar. On the wall, there was a rusty pickaxe lodged into the bust of a moose, which hung over the smouldering fireplace. Novas tried not to pay heed to the eyes that followed him; it was only midday, and drunks would be drunks after all.
“What can I do you for?” the bartender asked as he paced over to the two and leaned upon the bar with his elbows.
“Three meads, please.” Garreth ordered, looking into the barman’s pockmarked face.
“That will be six tri,” the barman explained after he placed the mugs upon the table.
Garreth felt into his leathers, pulled out the coins, and placed them upon the table. The melodic jingle of coin pierced the din of ambient noise. The barman swept up the currency with a smooth, practiced motion of his hand. Garreth nodded to Domminal and Novas, and they clinked glasses and had a sip of their brew. The taste was more broth than the Amatharsan ale of the Salty Dog, perhaps a bit too dark for Garreth, but he figured it was an acquired taste like any local brew would be. Like Novas and Domminal, he had no intention of finishing it all.
“Anything else I can do you for?” the barman asked as he returned from the till.
Garreth reached inside the pockets of his pack and withdrew the Blackwoods signet ring he had acquired after the showdown at the Southbriar Crossroads. He placed it upon the table and pushed it towards the barman.
“I was wondering if you would know who this belongs to. I know it belongs to someone here in Bouldershade, and I’d much like to return it to him. Do you know him?” Garreth inquired, his voice a whisper under the crackling fire.
The barman looked down at the ring, held it up to the light, and studied the insignia. A brief change in the bartender’s countenance was masked by a return to his previous slack face but was not quick enough to escape Garreth’s keen eyes. The bartender returned his vision to Garreth and did not need to evaluate his company again.
“My brother tends the bar during the night hours and sees more shady customers than I do during the day. I will go ask his advice on the matter,” the bartender explained before heading towards the back room with the ring.
Garreth looked over at his son and Domminal and continued to tap upon the bar. Before long, the barman had returned and was in front of Garreth again.
“Would you mind stepping into the back office yourself? My brother does not wish to get up from his documents,” the barman said as he placed the ring back on the table, which Garreth swept up in smooth motion.
“Can he not treat with us out here? We’ve just sat down to our ales after all,” Garreth asked.
The barman’s face was set solid, and his eyes began to wander to a place behind the hunters.
“It would be best if you came with me regarding such… sensitive information,” the barman stated as he looked back to Garreth.
“Well, if you insist,” Garreth shrugged.
The two rose from their seat, and they all followed the barman over to the door beside the bar. As the bartender opened the door, Garreth peered beyond his form to see a dark cellar with barrels of ale bordering each wall. Garreth looked the barman in the eyes; he didn’t see an office, documents, or a brother at all.
Immediately after, the barman’s eyes bulged, and he stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. Another loud crash followed as the brace of the tavern door slammed shut. To the left, one of the bar’s patrons closed the curtains on the wide window. The three rangers turned to see every drunk sober up and stand at attention. The crowd each withdrew knives, maces, and shortswords from inside their heavy coats. The exhilaration of danger brought Garreth, Novas, and Domminal’s senses to a peak as they counted and sized up their opponents. There were thirteen men against them, and they were lucky they had their backs against the tavern wall to start.
“Stay back to back, watch your flank, and don’t let any blade in. Remember to only reach out when your strike is assured,” Garreth spoke as he brandished his sword.
Domminal withdrew his curved blades, and Novas unsheathed his hunting knife and launched it into
the chest of the man closest to the door. The man fell against the door in shock and clutched at the blade’s hilt but did not find the strength to release it before he fell lifeless against the floor. The crowd of attackers rushed in with a yell, and Novas withdrew his blade and took up his place beside Domminal and Garreth. They were soon surrounded by the mob as tables and stools were thrown aside, and a brawler’s pit soon formed in the center of the tavern.
The trio were elbow to elbow as they withstood a series of stabs, strikes, and slashes from all angles. Even with their superior numbers, the Blackwoods could only attack each ranger with two or three men without the risk of injuring each other, which there was plenty of in the haste of battle. Even with their tight formation and cautious offense, the trio had much trouble subduing their attackers. Even when they took advantage of the slightest moments for counter attacks, there were always two more invigorated attackers to replace their injured allies.
While Garreth had managed to sever the sword hand of one, Domminal had lost one of his blades in the torso of an attacker and now flailed out with a fist where he could, disarming the mace of one brawler and returning it into the skull of another. Under the orange-red glow of the fire, the trio began to tire, but the battle of shadows still raged on upon the far wall. Novas was still fighting with a responsive pace, but he felt his stamina begin to fail. As he looked over to the tavern door, it appeared so far from him, for there were still too many adversaries between it and them.
Before Novas lost any more of his resilient spirit, there was a smash at the window that drew the attention of some of the Blackwoods. A sphere rolled through the gap in the curtains, and in the haste of the battle, was kicked around by the busy footwork. After a clattering, it began to spin and release a thick and smoggy gas that much more dense than the smoke from the fiery hearth. The Blackwoods began cough and wave at the smoke, and the trio did their best to hold their breath because they were cautious as to the lethality. Garreth figured that the battle could have waged on too long, and someone might have wanted to finish them off, Blackwoods and all.
