Hazelhearth Hires Heroes

by D. H. Willison

  “Yes.”

  The ogre longbowman lunged out from behind the shields, drawing an arrow in a fluid motion.

  Lee sighted along the barrel. “Just below the head, aim just below the head,” he whispered.

  The ogre drew his bow to full extension.

  Wumm

  A sharp crack sounded. The bow splintered, and under the pressure of full draw, snapped in half.

  “Nice shot,” said Sam.

  I was aiming for its neck, thought Lee. “Told you I was a crack shot.”

  Another stone projectile smashed into ballista tower two, shattering two support beams.

  Gnebnik lowered the spyglass and shot a glance at Lady Isylnoir and Sam. “Don’ suppose there’s any juice left in that gadget of yers?”

  “The device yes,” said Sam. “The operator, no.”

  “I fear another high-power shot will be my end,” said Lady Isylnoir. “But if it is necessary to secure victory, then I shall do so.”

  Sam grabbed the spyglass from Gnebnik. “No! There must be another way.”

  The ogres were battering down the cladding on the second to last ballista tower. Knocking the teeth from the city’s last defenses. And Lady Isylnoir seemed all too willing to sacrifice herself. There had to be another way.

  “We don’t need full power,” she said. “We hit one of the firebombs. Cast iron casing, right?”

  “Correct,” said Lady Isylnoir. “However I do not believe I can hit such a small target.”

  “You don’t have to. Wait until they bring up another firebomb, and hit the trebuchet as they prepare to fire.”

  “A novel plan.” Lady Isylnoir gazed at Gnebnik. “The timing will be critical. However, if you were to call out the ogres’ stage of reloading, we may be able to coordinate.”

  “Aye.”

  The ogres cranked the trebuchet’s windlass, the counterweight lifting higher and higher with each turn.

  Lady Isylnoir glanced at their target and settled back on the ring of amber gems at the tip of the device. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “They’ll be ready to fire in forty seconds,” said Gnebnik. The gnome muttered to himself, ticking the reload steps off in his head.

  “Hold at 20 percent,” said Lady Isylnoir, her nose again dripping blood.

  Prism-shaped crystals within the six tubular channels at the core glowed the faintest blue.

  One of the ogre crew jammed the locking pin in place.

  Shin and Lee shoved musket and powder back into the spark-proof box.

  “Ther’ bringin’ up the firebomb,” he said.

  “I can take a little more power, Samantha,” said Lady Isylnoir.

  A pair of runners set the firebomb on the sling, one securing the catch rope, the other readying a slow fuse.

  “Three, two, one, NOW,” said Gnebnik.

  Sam flipped the second lever, the firing sequence repeated, though this time yielding a notably weaker blast of electricity.

  One of the ogre operators dropped to the ground, the other two seeming to shrug off the hit.

  A pop of smoke, a sharp hiss, and the brittle iron casing shattered into a dozen jagged shards of burning shrapnel, a blast of liquid fire spraying in all directions.

  The blast slammed two ogres on their back, mortally wounded by iron shrapnel. A third, partly shielded by the frame of the trebuchet, rolled on the ground in flames.

  The ogre battle horn sounded.

  “That was significantly less unpleasant than our prior shots.” Lady Isylnoir steadied herself against the brass frame of the lightning thrower. “Master armorer, if my ears do not deceive me, that was the retreat signal.”

  Gnebnik scanned the battlefield with his spyglass. “Aye. They’re pullin’ back.”

  The last ogre disappeared into the tree line.

  Clouds of smoke billowed from both trebuchets. The nearest collapsed, its frame reduced to but flaming timbers as it fell to pieces.

  “That’s it?” said Lee.

  “I believe so,” said Lady Isylnoir. “Or at the very least, Hazelhearth will not be an appealing target in the immediate future.” She turned to Gnebnik. “Master armorer, your assistance, and that of your party was notable.”

  “We’ve done it,” said Lee. “The city is safe.”

  Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “You finally got to be a hero. Your mother would be proud.”

  Lee glanced back at her, cracking a smile. “We both did. I know it was never your goal in life, but still: doesn’t it feel good?”

  She returned the smile. “It’s… not bad.”

  Epilogue

  Lee finished polishing one of the bronze replacement bearings for the second ballista and turned, nearly jumping out of his skin upon finding Lady Isylnoir standing behind him.

  “Yikes! You’re as quiet as Shin! How can someone as tall as you be so quiet!”

  “You were making quite a clatter with your labors,” she said.

  “I don’t recall ever seeing you at the workshop before,” said Sam.

  Lady Isylnoir eyed one of the workshop’s exposed rafters, at forehead level to her seven-foot height. “The master armorer’s work may be exemplary, however his facility is clearly not designed for the elven stature.”

  Gnebnik gazed up at rafters double his own height. “Already seems generous ta me. But I can’t have human assistants whacking ther’ skulls on the roof and knockin’ themselves out. I’d never get any work done.”

  “As scintillating as a discussion on the merits of various ceiling heights might be, the purpose of my call is to remind you of the feast this evening. You would not wish to be late to your own celebration.”

  “Our celebration? It’s for the whole city, isn’t it?” said Sam.

  “Which we are a part of,” said Lee. “For a while, at least.”

  “Come on, the rest of the bearings can wait till tomorrow,” said Gnebnik.

  “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up,” said Lee. “I need to pick something up from the back room.”

  Lady Isylnoir had taken a dozen strides down the cobblestone street before realizing that Sam and Gnebnik trailed behind her: Sam at an awkward trot, and Gnebnik at a jog to keep up with her long strides. She slowed her pace to accommodate her shorter-legged companions.

  The city bustled with activity that afternoon, some townsfolk huddled around outside tables, bundled in winter clothes, others feasted in impromptu fest halls set up on the ground floors of numerous shops.

  “Haven’t seen you in several days,” said Gnebnik.

  “There was a frightful amount of paperwork to be done. After-action reports, damage assessments, inventories of key supplies.”

  “There are worse things than paperwork,” said Sam. “For example, removing the corpse of the ogre that had fallen inside the city walls.”

  “Aye. A messy affair that was.”

  Lady Isylnoir nodded. “True, that would have been rather less agreeable.”

  Lee caught up to the group just as they arrived at the Dancing Dryad, huffing lightly from the jog.

  “What did the townsfolk do with the corpse?” said Sam.

  “Moved it to a safe distance away from the city, then sent word to the ogres,” said Lady Isylnoir. “Their funerary rites are simple, but important to them. Granting them this small favor seemed the upstanding thing to do.”

  Lee pulled open the door. The group was blasted by air warmed by the hearth, warmed by bustling bodies. So many townsfolk crowded into the tavern that every chair, every inch of space on the benches was occupied. The air was ripe with the scent of grilled boar, spicy vegetable stew, cinnamon-walnut pie, and alive with the chatter of a dozen different conversations.

  “Wow,” said Lee, “I don’t see an empty seat in the house. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it quite so full in here.”

  “Leander, please go to the back room,” said Lady Isylnoir.

  Lee glared at her. “Don’t you start on me too! For your info
rmation, I’ve just bathed yesterday!”

  “The other back room!” said Sam.

  “Oh,” said Lee.

  The group pushed past the kitchen, past the washroom, to a back storage room that seemed to have been repurposed for the evening’s festivities. A pair of benches and long table barely fit between the floor-to-ceiling shelves along both sides of the room, requiring a fair amount of gymnastics to squeeze in.

  Corene joined the group, set a steaming dish on the table, and nodded to Sam. “Gnomish mushroom pie.”

  “Smells good.” Sam inhaled the smoky, nutty aroma. “Really good.”

  Shin entered through the back door and set a covered clay pot on the table.

  “Oh,” said Lee, “This is a pot-luck? I didn’t bring anything.”

  “Nay, not needed, lad.” Gnebnik took a seat in the middle of the bench.

  “I thought I’d bring something exotic for Sam. And the rest of you, of course.”

  “And this dish is not for us,” said Shin. “To be honest, I’m a poor cook.”

  “You always cooked when we were on the trail!” said Lee.

  “When the alternative is going hungry, just about any food tastes good. But mostly I do it to make sure not to put the scent of food in the air. Nekos have a poor sense of taste. I can follow a recipe, but that’s about it.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what is that?” asked Sam, motioning to the clay pot.

  “Baked apple slices dusted in walnut flour,” said Shin, opening a small shuttered window on the back wall. A reptilian head popped through.

  “Hope you don’t mind the draft. Sally’s far too large to fit through the door, but this way she can participate.”

  Lee stroked the side of Sally’s neck. “You saved my life the other day against those rotten birds, didn’t you, girl? I think I can tolerate a little draft for that.”

  Tilly set down a terrine of pumpkin ragout, a loaf of fresh walnut bread, mugs of ale, and a copper teapot. “Yrsa won’t be able to make it. She’s eating with some of the other miners at the Drooling Drake.”

  Sam poured Lady Isylnoir a cup of chamomile tea. “Any news? Of the imperial sort, I mean.”

  “I’ve sent off reports on the ogres’ strength and estimated position. With both trebuchets destroyed, they should pose no further threat.”

  “There’ll be fewer caravans over the winter,” said Gnebnik. “An’ we should be able to route them away from their encampment.”

  “Perhaps we will be fortunate, and they shall decide to return to their homeland.”

  “And the after-action report?” said Sam. “I don’t suppose you can tell us what you said about the lightning thrower?”

  “The truth of course,” said Lady Isylnoir. “The various components for the lightning thrower had been improperly inventoried. A diligent audit and stock-taking of local assets allowed us to assemble a device, which, although unsuitable for general imperial use, sufficed against a small band of ogres.”

  “Improperly inventoried, huh?”

  “At Samantha’s recommendation, I also noted that the city suffered significant damage and put in a request for additional supplies and materials.”

  “I thought the city had gotten off pretty lightly,” said Lee. “From a military perspective, I mean. Only one of the three towers was destroyed, and we should be able to rebuild a ballista with local materials, shouldn’t we?”

  “We will of course endeavor to rebuild the defenses, but they would most certainly not pass imperial muster without significant imported components. Which I have requested.” Lady Isylnoir winked at them.

  Sally’s elongated muzzle bumped against the brass teapot, nearly knocking it over, as she stretched a neck that was almost long enough to reach the clay pot of baked apple slices. Shin stroked her under the chin and fed her another handful.

  “Hmm,” said Lee. “Given their response to your prior requests, I’m going to guess you’re not expecting any help.”

  “If they respond to our reports making further queries about the specifics of the lightning thrower, they would also be obliged to respond to requests for supplies and materials. They could say no, but directly refusing such a request might make the regional imperial authorities look bad. Requesting assistance will ensure the entire incident is likely to be ignored.”

  Lee cocked his head. “That’s a fiendishly clever solution.”

  “We can thank Samantha for the idea.” Lady Isylnoir spooned a helping of couscous onto her plate. “Regardless of her personal distaste for the word thief, she excels at unorthodox solutions.”

  Sam gave a grudging nod.

  “And I am thankful that you two were not conscripted.”

  “And they’ll not be conscripted in the future.” Gnebnik handed Sam and Lee newly updated papers with a conspicuously embossed seal of the adventurer’s guild. “Congratulations. Yer both officially level one.”

  “While I’m still not happy with the class ‘thief,’ removing the threat of conscription is a big relief.”

  “Mine suits me just fine,” said Lee. “Level one fighter. ‘Sir Lee’ can wait for another day.”

  Sam groaned.

  Lee took out a small burlap bundle. “There’s one more thing. I was waiting for the right opportunity. I think this is it. Happy birthday, Sam.”

  “It’s not my birthday.”

  “It is if you account for the different number of days in the year on this world… oh, just work with me on this, won’t you?”

  The corners of Sam’s lips curled upward. “You’re right. When one takes into account the rotation of the world, along with other astronomical factors…” Please don’t let it be a hairbrush or perfume atomizer or…

  She unwrapped layers of fabric. Her hazel eyes lit up when the object inside was revealed. “Oh Lee. Thank you.” She stood, bumping against the table, nearly knocking over a mug of ale and Sally’s bowl of baked apples, and threw her arms around Lee’s neck.

  Shin stared at the object, at Lee, at Sam, then back at the object. “It looks like an ordinary screwdriver.”

  “That is no ordinary screwdriver,” snapped Sam. “That is a Fulton Improved Victory Model Double-Action Reversible Ratcheting Screwdriver with interchangeable bits! And it’s the only one of its kind on this entire world.”

  “I found it in the mines the other day,” said Lee.

  “A little something from home can lift one’s spirits,” said Shin.

  “With the constraints on winter travel, we’re stuck here for a while,” said Lee.

  “This isn’t such a bad place,” said Sam. “We’ll find a way back. I know we will.”

  Lee sighed, scraping the last bits of gnomish mushroom pie from his plate. “At the rate we’re going, it’ll take us a hundred years to make it.”

  “There’s a silver lining to that, of course,” said Sam.

  “There is?”

  “By that time, you’ll have a really great game.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  Thanks for reading! I appreciate your support and hope you enjoyed the tale. If you’re feeling generous, a fair review on the platform of your choice would make my day.

  In the first two books of Tales of Arvia I had referenced the Melandrach Empire on several occasions. Hazelhearth Hires Heroes was the opportunity to explore it in greater depth. Given the focus on the party, rather than individual characters, I switched to third person point of view.

  And keeping with my usual style, I thought it would be most interesting from the viewpoint of a common person caught up in the events of the day, rather than a great general/powerful noble/chosen one.

  The astute reader may notice a few phrasings that are not entirely historically accurate. I elected to bend a few rules for the modern reader’s ease of understanding.

  Regarding the choice of Toledo as Sam and Lee’s initial residence, I do have a few personal connections. I went to grad school in Bowling Green, OH, and Toledo was the closest “big city.�
� I also worked a summer job at the Libby Glass factory and visited a number of the historic sites in the area, including the preserved remnants of the Miami and Erie Canal.

  A few historical notes:

  The big Libby Glass factory in Toledo was constructed in 1888.

  The Tesla coil was invented in 1891.

  The first big electric plant in Toledo was constructed in 1892.

  Women’s suffrage in the United States was ratified in 1920.

  The canal system in Ohio had fallen out of favor by the civil war, but even today you can see the remnants of the old canal system.

  Board and parlor games exploded in popularity in the late 1800s. Would Lee’s original creation have taken off? We may never know.

  About the same time, serious thought was given to improving the standard screw head design, although it would be another decade or two before such designs (such as the Robertson) were commercially available. Is Sam’s prized screwdriver compatible with Arvian screw heads? If not, I’m sure she’ll craft the appropriate bit.

  The basilisk was historically portrayed in several completely different forms. Aside from the eight-legged reptilian variant, there is a bird-like version similar to the cockatrice, as well as a serpent-like version with no legs at all. Additionally, according to some legends, they can be killed by weasel urine. I elected not to incorporate weasel urine into Arvian lore.

  For those who may be curious, I wrote Sam three different ways: the way you just read, having her as a woman from the start, or keeping Sam as a man the entire book. I wanted to portray Sam and Lee with a rock-solid, gender-independent relationship, and this way worked best for that. And on a more personal note, I recall a story my mother told me: she worked in a bank at a time when women were only accepted in junior or clerical roles. Part of the reason she got her first management job was a carefully crafted recommendation letter from a professor that conveniently omitted her gender.

  And finally, a big thanks to my beta readers and writer’s groups who helped me refine the story. Without their help it would not be the story it is now. Several chapters were critiqued in the Author’s Alcove discord group and Writers of the Weird virtual sessions. Special thanks to my beta readers: Clif, Stewart, Thea, Tyseco, and Crisples.