Hazelhearth Hires Heroes

by D. H. Willison

  Yet for the group, there was no respite. Gnebnik was not the sole blacksmith in town, but work did pile up in his absence. For the next three days, there was no training, no talk of adventuring, just the pounding of hammers, scraping of files, and the clack of pliers dawn till dusk in the workshop.

  “I’d say we’re caught up,” said Gnebnik mid-morning of the fourth day as he lifted the last crate of scrap armor to the workbench.

  “So, we get to beat up some training dummies this afternoon?” said Lee.

  “Aye. But there’s one thing first.” He stepped into the storeroom, emerging a few moments later with a leather folio. “You completed yer first quest, an’ I have something for you.”

  “I thought apprentice adventurers weren’t eligible for a share of the prize,” said Sam.

  “They’re not. But when I was in the guild hall in Irondale, I picked these up for you.” Gnebnik pulled two sheets of parchment from the leather folio. “After that stunt at the tavern, I was tempted not to, but overall you two handled yerselves decently enough.”

  The papers were suspiciously bureaucratic looking, with lots of lines, boxes, and places for official stamps, most of which were empty.

  “Adventurer’s guild?” Lee’s eyes snapped wide open and a grin broadened across his face as he read the document. “So does this mean—”

  “No,” said Gnebnik. “Ya still have to pass the tests to become a level one. This here’s just yer applications.”

  “But this does make it official,” said Shin. “Your names are recorded, and once you pass—”

  “I do not like the term thief!” snapped Sam, whose examination of the paper had finally reached the field entitled ‘adventurer class.’

  “Your class is just provisional,” said Shin, annunciating the word ‘just’ in his typical soothing fashion. “You may change it when you take your tests. You may even change it when you’re looking to advance a level.”

  Sam growled, somehow managing a more intimidating facial expression than Shin, despite a lack of fangs.

  “Think of it this way: you seem to already know some of the special skills for the thief class. So with a minimal amount of training to do things like forging and verifying documents—”

  “Oooh,” said Sam, expression deflating rapidly.

  “Oh?” Lee gazed at Sam, eyebrows lifted. “What’s ‘oh?’ ”

  “I… kind of… already know that too.”

  “Really?” said Shin.

  Lee glared at Sam. “Just what kind of childhood did you live?”

  “As I may have mentioned, my mother wanted me to be a proper lady. I was supposed to attend ‘Montgomery’s Finishing School for Ladies.’ I was interested in a bit more… practical university. It took a bit of creative paperwork—among other things—for me to attend.”

  “What? And so you attended a locksmithing school?” said Lee.

  “That was self taught.” Sam’s shoulders hunched over further. “Frequently, the paperwork in question had… security associated with it.”

  Shin put a hand on her shoulder. “A lot of skills are common to several classes. And since you already seem to know the special skills associated with the thief—”

  Sam’s head snapped toward the neko, her eyes locking with his.

  “—Which you have no obligation to become.”

  “I’m suddenly feeling like the weakest member of the party,” said Lee. “I don’t know any special skills. Unless you need someone to decipher Morse code.”

  “We’ll get ya’ up ta snuff,” said Gnebnik. “As a fighter, yer special skills are mostly knowin’ yer way around weapons.”

  “I thought that was part of the combat skills test.”

  “There’s a difference,” said Shin. “You need to be proficient with the weapons of your choice for combat skills. But you must be familiar with a lot more as a fighter. That means you know how they work—you know how to use them, even if you cannot not wield them effectively in combat.”

  “Sounds like a damn museum curator,” said Lee.

  “There’s value ta the party in knowin’ the strengths and weaknesses of weapons used against you. What tactics a wielder might employ.”

  Lee grumbled. “Except that none of the beasts we’ve seen use weapons.”

  “Depends how you think of the term weapon,” said Gnebnik.

  “Nature provides her children with rather magnificent weapons,” said Shin.

  Lee bit his lip. “So what next? For me, I mean.”

  “As long as you keep up with yer sword training, we can start you with ranged weapons this afternoon.”

  “Excellent,” said Lee. “I’m already a decent shot with a rifle, and I’d love to try out a crossbow.”

  “We don’t have powder to spare, and there’s no free crossbow,” said Gnebnik.

  “Smashing,” said Lee. “So I’ll be doing what? Throwing rocks?”

  “Yer strong enough for a longbow,” said Gnebnik.

  “And don’t underestimate the effectiveness of a simple sling,” said Shin.

  Sam slapped Lee on the shoulder. “Archery, huh? I may not be able to draw a bow here, but I can give you a few pointers at least.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  It was unseasonably cold that autumn morning, cold enough to see one’s breath. Tiny specks caught Gnebnik’s eye: the first snowfall of the season, or a few last fragments of fall leaves caught by the wind? He followed a curved section of Palisade Street which followed the contour of the town’s defensive wall. In contrast to prior summons, Gnebnik was cautiously optimistic this morning. Their first quest had gone as well as could be expected, and despite a few sharp words over the condition of the dragonfly larvae, Lady Isylnoir did declare the quest completed. The walnut harvest was proceeding well, with yields slightly above expectations, so the winter shouldn’t bring starvation, and as long as—

  “Seepwater and stygian stinkworms!” he barked.

  A handful of figures bustled around the front of Lady Isylnoir’s imperial manor, a pair busying themselves with brooms, the other in the process of erecting a scaffolding. The expropriated house of Hazelhearth’s mayor had seen better days. While all of Hazelhearth had seen better days, the condition of this house was exceptional. For starters, the third-story windows were missing.

  A gritty crunch sounded under Gnebnik’s leather boot. A downward glance told him that the windows were not actually missing, they had simply been relocated to the street in smaller pieces. Along with charred splinters of window frame and fist-sized chunks of plaster. There was no visible smoke, but a faint acrid stench hung in the cold air.

  Gnebnik groaned, head drooping as he addressed the closest of the three. “What happened here?”

  “Ya got me. We were ordered to come here and ‘repair a defective window pane.’ Defective?” The man, who Gnebnik now recognized as the town’s sole glazier, glanced at the gaping hole in the third story, back at Gnebnik, lowered his voice and continued. “It’s glass, not armor plate! I dunno what happened, but ya don’t have to be a genius ta tell it’s not a problem with the glass. Damn nobles!”

  Gnebnik winced, gave the man a consoling slap on the shoulder, and rapped on the polished mahogany front door.

  “Enter!” came the reply from within.

  The acrid stench was slightly stronger inside the structure. He ascended the staircase, finding windows open at both ends of the manor’s central breezeway. After calling out to her a second time, he located Lady Isylnoir at her desk in the converted study. Spread across the desk were several arcane tomes mixed with a scattering of far more mundane-looking paperwork. A stack of chests and crates in the far corner next to the bookshelf suggested packing or unpacking.

  “Doin’ a little renovating?”

  An icy glare told Gnebnik that such offhand commentary was not appreciated this particular morning.

  “Normally preparing for the winter is a straightforward undertaking, even in
a provincial settlement such as this. A bit of imperial organization and assiduousness are all that is necessary. One must ensure there is sufficient food and heating fuel for the populace and any stationed troops, and see that fortifications are in a good state of repair. Thereafter, one may use the quiet time to repair and improve equipment.”

  Gnebnik nodded. “I’m guessin’ the ogre encampment has you a wee bit nervous.”

  “It represents uncertainty in an already tenuous situation,” said Lady Isylnoir. “And with the state of the militia. And without a proper scouting force…”

  “Shin keeps an eye open on his scavenging runs. He hasn’t spotted any signs they’re preparin’ ta attack the city.”

  “But he has not been specifically looking for it.”

  “Nay.”

  “That is a problem I shall have to deal with later.” Lady Isylnoir set her silver fountain pen back in its holder. “Perhaps if Teodrune and his party station here over the winter, we will have sufficient qualified party leadership to undertake such a mission.”

  “Teodrune, eh?” Only thing he’s qualified for is keeping the undertakers in business, thought the gnome.

  Though in truth, the profession of undertaker was generally superfluous on Arvia. The stomachs of monsters saw to that.

  “Yes. But for the time being, I have another assignment, an even simpler one this time, so even your untrained party should be able to complete it satisfactorily.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  Such a comment from a gnome was a well-worn jest, but should have drawn a pity laugh from most people.

  A grin?

  A smirk?

  Nope. She was an elf, after all.

  “The city’s oilwood supply is too low to last the winter. A work crew is leaving tomorrow at dawn, and they will be gathering at the southwestern thicket and require escort. The city watch is occupied elsewhere. Standard terms and conditions shall apply.”

  “Aye.”

  “One additional detail.”

  Gnebnik nodded.

  “I’ve been reviewing the work force. According to the report from the brokers, the last passage included twenty adventurers. They have all joined a skirmishing party led by Teodrune, with the exception of the two who have remained as your assistants.”

  “Aye, an’ they’re now provisional guild members. Makin’ good progress toward their tests.”

  “That is no concern of mine. However, one of them was listed as being a skilled engineer.”

  “Aye.”

  “This dwelling requires modification to make it suitable for my needs. And the town builder has not demonstrated particular competence.”

  “The master builder was conscripted last summer. Kalvis is just an apprentice.”

  “Nevertheless, if this Sam has the skill to design fortifications, then redesigning a mundane dwelling should be a simple matter. Send her over this afternoon. I should have a list of my requirements by then.”

  Gnebnik grimaced, nodded, and departed, waiting until he was out of earshot before uttering a few gnomish curses.

  Leaving Sam unescorted in the presence of Lady Isylnoir seemed about as sensible as inviting toddlers to play with matches in the hay loft. Any sensible person would show caution around a battlemage. Hells, even Lee would show caution. Perhaps if he insisted that Sam attend the meeting unarmed?

  Gnebnik made an entire round of Hazelhearth before returning to the workshop, attempting to formulate a way to spin the news so as to ensure his new assistant wouldn’t get herself incinerated. He trudged into the workshop, making a cursory inspection of the tools.

  “Lady Isylnoir would like a word with you,” he said. “She seems to have taken an interest in your engineering ability.”

  “Let me guess, she needs me to construct some sort of posh knicknack?”

  Gnebnik chuckled. “I don’t know exactly. Somethin’ about renovations to her manor.”

  “We sleep in a drafty tavern attic, she’s in the best home in the city, and it’s still not good enough for her?” Sam removed a plate of bent metal from a vice and inspected it.

  “Mebbe there’s a chance to get somethin’ out of it. Having the ear of an acting imperial magistrate isn’t a bad thing. Put a bug in her ear, an’ maybe she can help you and Lee make it home.”

  “She doesn’t seem particularly interested in helping anyone but herself. And if I put anything in her ear, I’d prefer it to be one of those eight-foot-long centipedes we encountered.”

  “You’ve been summoned, go,” barked Gnebnik. “Try an’ show a little restraint. You get yourself killed and I’ll have to find another new assistant.”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry. Unlike Lee, I know how… and when to hold my tongue. Even when I do not wish to.”

  Chapter 16

  Shin and Sally scouted ahead of the group as they normally did, though this time at a considerably longer distance. Compared with the party’s trip to Irondale, the work crew—a dozen and a half men, women, and children—was alarmingly conspicuous. The fact that every worker was armed, they had numbers on their side, yet the group still needed escort, spoke volumes for the risks of the wilderness just a few hours distant from the city.

  The phrase, ‘we leave at dawn,’ applied to their departure, though only on a technicality. It was dawn somewhere on the world, just not here specifically.

  “Are we expected to help gather?” asked Lee, eyes scanning a tree line in the purple predawn light. He balanced on the narrow right-side running board of the cart as if it were a second home.

  “Nope,” said Gnebnik. “But since there’s a road out to where the crew’s heading, we take advantage of it. There’s a time to travel light, an’ a time ta equip yourself ta the teeth.”

  “We expecting an attack—” Lee was cut off by the approach of Shin, fifty paces distant.

  Gnebnik brought the cart to a halt.

  “A pair of wood panthers just off the road to the right,” said Shin. “Doesn’t look like they’ve fed in a couple days. Warn the crew to keep the children close.”

  Shin darted off ahead of the group, with Gnebnik waiting until the lead wagon was close enough to confirm a hand signal before driving the cart forward.

  “There.” Gnebnik pointed at a gap between the trunks of two walnut trees. The panther, considerably larger than an African lion from Earth, stared intently at the cart, tail twitching slowly.

  “Shin said there were two,” said Sam.

  “Aye. One’ll often drive prey toward the other.” Gnebnik pulled the cart to the edge of the rough road.

  “Should we go after them?” said Lee. “I mean if they’re hunting us.”

  “Wait till we see the other one.”

  “There. Right there,” said Sam, pointing to a second panther, the bulk of its elongated body hidden behind the thick, gnarled trunk of a walnut tree.

  “Good,” said Gnebnik. “This is a good encounter. Lee, twenty paces that way, sword drawn, shield ready.” He turned to Sam. “Stay in the cart, cover us with your crossbow. Load the acid-tipped bolts.”

  Gnebnik took position a dozen paces to Lee’s left.

  Lee glared at the pair of panthers. “So what now? You said it was a good encounter. Do we attack?”

  “Nope. We stand our ground an’ show dominance. If they approach, use yer battle cry. If they keep comin’, Sam, you put a bolt in one of ’em.”

  A crunching of gravel and clopping of hooves drew closer.

  Lee’s meaty left fist clenched and unclenched the handle of his shield, his right squeezing the hilt of his longsword till his knuckles turned white.

  Two pairs of orange feline eyes stared at them, the bodies of the two panthers frozen in place, ears twitching like the itchy fingertips of a wild west gunfighter.

  Sam drew slow, deliberate breaths, her crossbow trained on the right panther. If it moved as fast as she suspected, she’d be able to get just a single shot off. It had to connect.

  The wagons of the w
ork crew passed behind them. The squeaking of poorly greased axles combined with the crunching of wheel on gravel and clopping of hooves. It hit Sam at that moment just how much louder this group of wagons were than their own party.

  Gnebnik let out a low growl.

  The left-side panther lurched upright.

  Sam shifted aim.

  Both panthers turned tail, darting into the grove of trees.

  “Is that it?” said Lee.

  “Aye,” said Gnebnik. “Like I said, a good encounter. Let’s move. We need ta reform in front of the wagons.”

  It took several minutes and a bit of maneuvering for them to get past the work wagons on the narrow road.

  “So what happened yesterday between you and Lady Isylnoir,” said Lee.

  “Nothing.”

  “You seemed pretty surly afterward. Didn’t seem like nothing to me.”

  “It was exactly nothing,” snapped Sam. “I showed up at her residence. The workers said she was at the city armory. I went there. She was in the middle of berating the captain of the city watch. I had to wait. Then she said she was out of time for the day, and that she would send for me again sometime.”

  “Tough luck,” said Lee.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it. I know her type.”

  It was midmorning by the time the lead wagon pulled off the road into a small clearing. Adjacent groves were pruned to a similar size, three times as tall as a person, with a scattering of stumps in between. A handful of giant rhododendrons encroached on the grove, their serving-platter-sized white and pink flowers were long past their prime: some with discolored petals, others entirely barren. Adult members of the crew with axes, wedges, and mauls set to work on the oilwood trees. Children stayed close to the wagons, chopping gathered wood into pieces small enough to load onto the wagons.