The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga)

by Gary F. Vanucci

  She recognized it as something all-too-familiar.

  It made her grimace reflexively as she recalled her youth and then immediately forced it from her mind. Instead, she studied the group again and attempted to assess them. Rose made a habit of trying to read people on every possible level. It made her occupation easier, too.

  One of the women looked more powerful than the rest, although they all seemed to be fairly ruggedly built for females. But this one in particular was firm of stature and jaw, and had a look of something desperate in her eyes that she tried to hide. She appeared to be quite unfocused and somewhat inebriated, also.

  A potential victim? Rose thought. But she quickly dismissed the thought as too dangerous, especially in here with all of the other barbarians around. Besides, she’d promised Melin just recently that she would stop pilfering from his patrons. And so, she considered just how well this strongly built woman could handle herself in combat.

  It might be fun to test, she thought again. But then she realized that the urge for a fight, which came from somewhere deep inside her, had not surfaced for many years. That alone surprised her. The reality of the situation was that she would have to fight the entire tribe, which was surely suicide. Besides, she had taken to robbing the more wealthy merchants who were slower of wit and weaker of sword. She let that thought sink in. Her expression soured unintentionally. She realized that thought had brought her a level of melancholy, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  Before she could give it any more consideration, the doors to the tavern swung open and two members of The Watch entered. One conferred with Melin Flinteye, who nodded an approval, while the other posted an official document up on the main message board near the entrance of the tavern.

  After the watchmen left, there was a sudden rush to read the notice that was posted. Rose waited for the crowd to die down, most of them waving hands and chatting amongst themselves, seeming to have mixed reactions at its contents. Moments passed as it thinned out a bit more and she approached the document. It read:

  ‘The High Council of Oakhaven is seeking those strong of sword and sharp of mind. We are in dire need of aid in the form of brave, cunning and heroic individuals.

  Any applicants of questionable moral ethics, or who are unwilling or unable to cooperate with others, need not apply as time is of the essence.

  Those who deem themselves worthy should arrive at the Hall of the High Council as soon as the third bells toll on the first Day of Holy Enlightenment. Be forewarned that the Inquisition will be conducting these evaluations and all individuals applying for this pact will be interviewed and methodically analyzed. Only the very best applicants will be chosen.

  Such is the Covenant of the Faceless Knights.’

  This intrigued Rose a great deal.

  Saeunn stood from her chair and disengaged from her family and friends at the table. She heard the townsfolk whispering about the notice that was pinned to the message board. She walked over and looked at it. Her brow furrowed as she realized she could not decipher the markings on it, for she could not read.

  Saeunn looked about embarrassingly and found a red-haired woman, who appeared to be studying it. She looked all around to see if any others were nearby, but there was no one else that she could ask. So she looked back at the leather-clad stranger, whom she noticed was eyeing her now with penetrating gray eyes in a way that seemed intrusive.

  “Can you tell me what this says?” Saeunn asked the stranger in an attempt to both discover the meaning of the notice and to remove the woman’s gaze from her.

  “Certainly,” the woman replied, not unkindly, and proceeded to read the document to Saeunn.

  Upon hearing it, Saeunn’s green eyes widened with what looked to be pure bliss. The reader was taken aback by the show of palpable elation over the contents of the message, but Saeunn completely missed it.

  “I guess this is good news for you?” the auburn-haired stranger asked Saeunn.

  “Aye,” the barbarian woman responded, smiling widely at her. “It could be just what I need.” Saeunn turned and nodded at the woman, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders and saying again, “Just what I need!”

  Saeunn turned from the woman and walked excitedly back to her table. She hoped that this would be the opportunity she needed, so that she did not have to begin what would certainly be a mundane series of occupations in the days to come. Instead, she hoped to once more grip tightly the leather-bound hilt of her blade and lay low the enemies of her people. Saeunn returned to the table smiling at her mother and explained what the note said to all her companions.

  “So you intend to investigate the needs of the High Council?” Huuna asked her daughter when the initial excitement had passed and the others were discussing it amongst themselves. Saeunn appeared caught in a daydream and seemed not to hear her mother’s question.

  “Saeunn?”

  “Yes, I believe I can help them, mother,” Saeunn replied evenly, as she had been listening to her mother the whole time. “I would very much like to help the Races of Order in Wothlondia with whatever is coming.” She paused for a moment, her expression suddenly desolate, despite her best efforts to hide it. “But I made a promise to father, and will make good that promise.”

  Saeunn was pained that the mere mention of Scarr, both saddened and elated Huuna at once. She knew that her mother and father had lived their lives to the fullest and now, without warning, he was taken from them. Huuna hugged her daughter, pulling her close in an attempt to hide her tears.

  Saeunn gently pushed her mother back and straightened up. “This is lordly ale!” she exclaimed, attempting to brush aside her emotions as she stood. Huuna grabbed her daughter by the shoulder and chin, forcing her back down in her seat to look into her eyes.

  “You have a destiny to fulfill, my child,” Huuna said. “Know that the spirit of your father certainly approves of his daughter’s intentions. He would have been proud had he been here to see it. Do not make me tell you again! Seek out the High Council and be sure to make your father proud!”

  Saeunn began to respond, “But…what of—“

  “You heard me, Sae,” Huuna interrupted, instilling a spark of confidence that was so obvious behind her actions and words. “Go and gather your things and make sure to seek a comfortable bed this night.”

  Saeunn simply nodded to her mother and stood up.

  However, before she could leave, a man dressed in animal skins that revealed a heavily muscled chest and arms to match, impeded her progress.

  “I can provide a bed,” he said in a gruff voice, smiling wide to reveal a set of yellowed teeth. He was a bearded hulk that reminded her a bit of the Chansuk tribesmen, which absently softened her demeanor. She stood looking at the man for a moment and waited for him to speak again, hardening her gaze. “You seem to be a worthy one for me to lie with this eve,” he added on with a chuckle that was openly demeaning to Saeunn.

  “No,” Saeunn eventually replied, attempting to move past him. “You are not worthy.”

  “I’d reconsider if I were you,” the man warned as he put his hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to turn her back to face him.

  Suddenly Saeunn sobered. She did not feel the effects of the wine anymore; she simply felt anger in her blood. All of the Chansuk women stood up from their seats now, knowing what was about to happen, and acting as if they were ready to clobber this apparent dolt, too.

  Saeunn swung her right arm—her free arm—and placed a hard palm-heel blow to the bearded man’s forehead. The blow was struck so swiftly and with such power that she knocked him back a few steps, removing his hand from her shoulder. He stumbled back and into a vacant chair, almost breaking it in the process.

  Suddenly, Melin Flinteye’s two sons, Herum and Jarin, who Saeunn had met earlier in the evening, came over to the disturbance. They forced their way through the crowd that started to form around her and the heavily muscled brute.

  “None o’ that business here!”
Herum yelled boldly, waving a hand to dismiss any intent to fight.

  “If ye be wantin’ to kill each other, do it outside,” Jarin said evenly, backing his older brother’s words. “Though I’m not tellin’ ye to do that either.”

  The lout regained his composure and stared hard at Saeunn. “Think yer tough, lass?!” the man asked Saeunn in a blind rage. “I’m thinking yer not.“ He angrily wiped some blood from a slight gash on his forehead.

  “Place your arm here on the table,” Saeunn commanded, sitting down at the now-open table. “I will wrestle you. When I win, you will leave me be.”

  The man laughed, shifting the various animal hides once more to display his rather hefty arm, though in truth, it was not much bigger than Saeunn’s own. He flexed for her and whoever else was watching in the hopes of gaining their favor and intimidating the woman. She merely held his gaze and the crowd remained hushed. The man sat and put his right hand in hers, wrist against wrist. A second, red-bearded man stepped up to the table from within the crowd and tied a length of rope tightly around their wrists.

  “No cheating now,” he yelled through a wicked grin. “Go!”

  The man and woman locked gazes as they began their feat of strength. Many watched the event with enthusiasm and bets were quickly placed. Saeunn’s eyes steeled over in a sign of determination. That seemed to catch the man by surprise and she saw just the slightest hint of doubt in his eyes. She coldly locked eyes with her opponent’s furrowed her brow and pressed her advantage.

  All of the Chansuk tribeswomen stood behind Saeunn. Her tattooed bicep muscle seemed to nearly burst from her arm and the crowd gasped as she began to impose her will. It was obvious to any who watched her that she was not a woman to be taken too lightly.

  She had a size and strength that was uncommon for a typical female, but displayed the undeniable femininity and curves that the opposite gender admired; she made quite an impression on the crowd. The man’s blue eyes began to widen in disbelief and horror as he sensed his soon-to-be humiliting defeat. His brow began to show a noticeable grouping of sweat beads. The wound on his forehead began to spill blood more freely as he strained. A moment later, a streak of red ran down his face and into his unkempt beard.

  Try as he might, however, he could not reverse the woman’s momentum. He strained and resisted valiantly, almost to the point of breaking his arm.

  The back of his right hand slammed to the table with a thud, drawing hoots and cheers, as well as cries of outrage from the crowd. Coins exchanged hands and some argued with others.

  The red-bearded man loosened the sash and stepped away. Without warning though, the humiliated loser drew his hand back in an attempt to strike Saeunn. But, a stubby-fingered hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it before it could be launched.

  “No ye don’t!” said Melin’s eldest boy.

  Saeunn reared back and head-butted the man square in the face, knocking him unconscious and further bloodying his forehead.

  Jarin looked to Herum and couldn’t help but smirk. “I ain’t about to hit no girl…besides, I be thinkin’ it won’t do much good!” The rest of the crowd that heard the comment roared with laughter. Herum laughed hard, holding his belly. “Aye!” he yelled in agreement.

  “Get that trash outta me bar!” Melin yelled over the crowd to his sons as they each grabbed an arm and threw the bloodied ruffian into the streets. “No one tries to hit a woman in me bar!”

  Saeunn turned and gazed upon the other barbarians, the remaining tribe-members of the Chansuk people, then looked skyward as if searching for an answer. She saw her mother, who smiled at her now and simply pointed at the door.

  “Go, Saeunn,” Huuna said, “before you get us kicked out of here!” The rest of the women laughed and guzzled more ale and wine, truly enjoying this break from their recent woes. Saeunn watched her mother smile at her before turning her attention back to her present company.

  Saeunn headed out of the bar and back to the shelter that Oakhaven’s officials had granted the survivors of Chansuk.

  Unbeknownst to Saeunn, a red-headed woman peeked out of the bar and watched her leave.

  Rose observed the events as they unfolded regarding the tattooed woman whom she’d read the document to, and wondered what she should do in light of this new situation. The barbarian woman conveyed exhilaration within her jade eyes that Rose hadn’t experienced in a decade. She obviously yearned for danger and the thrill of battle with burning anticipation. This was evident in the fight and the arm-wrestling contest she had just witnessed.

  Rose also missed the thrill of a real fight, she suddenly realized. This new understanding terrified her as well as amazed her. She was somewhat surprised that she had any feelings at all when it came to seeking such thrills as mortal combat. She had not done any serious fighting in years.

  When she had been learning to develop her skills many years ago, she soon recognized the pure excitement it gave her. She reflected on those many nights where she did not know if she would even survive. She remembered the thrill of picking pockets and the constant avoidance of The Watch in her younger days. She had been getting complacent now, picking from the fat purses of the mindless merchants that posed little or no challenge to her vast skill set. Her life lacked excitement, she realized. She aimed to rectify that immediately.

  Yes, she thought, I will apply for this venture!

  Rose proceeded out of the bar, tipping Melin as she passed, and headed outside to the streets of Oakhaven. It appeared to most as if she had a bit too many glasses of wine, though she was far from drunk, unbeknownst to the four men that had surveyed her earlier.

  Chapter 7

  Two brothers from out of town—Otis and Olaf—were visiting the Tall Tale Tavern this eve along with two former mercenaries from Veldennia. They had served with these men for several years prior in some less-than-ethical operations. The brothers were ex-sentries and had been training as pickpockets now to provide their income. They were becoming quite good at it. Sometimes they attempted their thievery with stealth, sometimes with brute force. The brothers had mentioned their success to the two mercenaries, Blaine and Morton, who were now willing to put their skills to the test too.

  The brothers and their two associates took notice of one particular redhead. She had bought herself some very expensive wine, not to mention that Otis got a peek at her teeming coin pouch to boot. She had been using not only copper coins, but many silvers too.

  Otis had approached her earlier. He meant to get to know her and perhaps persuade her to bed him this evening, in which case he could rob her in the night. They had tried this tactic with much success in many other cities as Otis was not only a ruggedly handsome man, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but was also a smooth talker. He had introduced himself, but his potential victim seemed uninterested at best in his advances, and had simply walked away from him at first. His second advance met with a somewhat terse, stronger rejection, which he wisely obeyed, not wanting to stir up any unnecessary attention.

  The two mercenaries were part of the plan, too. The bald man named Blaine, who bore a scar on his left cheek, was dark of both hair and eyes, and was renowned within mercenary circles as being a violent man with a short temper. His associate, Morton, was a heavy-set man, clean shaven, displaying a pair of beady green eyes. Morton was more cowardly than brave, but willing to take some risks to score coin. The group had spent much of their time in the bar apart to suggest they did not know each other.

  “Blaine, you and Morton start out ahead of us, keep an eye out and one of us will try to flush her down an alleyway like we discussed,” Otis whispered to the group as he stood with his back to the two mercenaries.

  Morton and Blaine left the bar as instructed and waited across the road, out of sight. There was really only one direction to go when exiting the bar and that was to the south. This led back toward the center of the city on the main walkway where the large fountain sat. From there, one could go into any of the districts. There were s
ome side streets and alleyways, but most did not use them. That fact made it easier for the group to plan a strategy.

  “There she goes, Olaf,” whispered Otis to his brother. Olaf had a dark, scruffy beard on his face with shaggy hair to match. He carried with him a small club and a dagger, both strapped to a belt under his loose-fitting shirt and jacket.

  Otis nodded his head and anxiously adjusted the hilt of his dagger, which was concealed in his boot, adjusting the fit.

  They exited the bar, pacing themselves so as not to appear to be leaving at the same time. Blaine and Morton watched Rose exit and found a good place to set their trap. Olaf followed her initially down the main avenue and, seconds later, Otis appeared and caught sight of his brother’s trail.

  Morton, being the more pathetic of the two mercenaries, made the perfect stooge. He sat on one knee in the alley as the woman was about to pass by, exactly as they had planned.

  “Don’t screw it up, Morton!” Blaine whispered a caution, his dagger planted firmly against Morton’s neck. “Or I might have to make a ‘mistake’ and bleed you right here.”

  “Hel—,” Morton started to scream, but the word got caught in his throat as he was becoming increasingly anxious about the situation. Blaine’s blade pressed more firmly against his throat, encouraging Morton further.

  ”Help!” Morton managed to cry out as his lips went dry with anticipation of the fight. He certainly sold the pathetic victim role, which was the reason Blaine kept the man around in the first place. Both men were armed with simple daggers, in conjunction with a set of brass knuckles that they wore on their opposite hand. They waited as their victim approached.

  Rose wondered if they thought her a fool.

  She had seen an easy mark mugged in an alleyway many times, for she had done it herself in her youth. The local guard was out of sight and out of earshot—a perfect place for an ambush!