Travis Starnes
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The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2024-05-21 14:39:01 +0000 UTCChapter 18: I Fought the Law…
“Stop,” Osric called out, more to his friends, whose hands were going instinctively to their weapons, than the guards. “We surrender. There’s no need for violence.”
“A wise choice,” the woman, who was clearly their leader, said. “Disarm them.”
The latter was said to the men with her, who quickly removed all of the groups’ weapons, finding a surprising number of knives and other small implements on Grace, suggesting the thief was more dangerous than she let on. They even took Talia’s staff, although whether it was out of precaution or because they recognized that it was, in some way, magical, Osric didn’t know.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Osric said as he handed over his sword. “Please, let us speak to your superior and we can work this out.”
Osric wasn’t sure who he’d need to talk to, but considering Godfrey was the highest member of the Brethren in the city, Osric hoped that someone in a position of authority might be safe to deal with, and not a member.
“I’m Captain Lockewood, and I’m in charge of the guard. So if you need to talk to someone, you talk to me. Not that it will do you any good.”
Everyone was jumpy, and all it would take was one person overreacting for things to go wrong very quickly.
Holding up a hand in a pacifying gesture, Osric said, “Captain Lockewood, I understand how this must look, but I assure you, we are not criminals. We were merely searching for information vital to the safety of the world.”
“The safety of the world?” Lockewood asked, an eyebrow raised, her tone dripping with skepticism. “The world hinges on two children, an old man, a thief, and a Ranger? We should be so lucky? And I suppose breaking into a nobleman’s home and rifling through his possessions is just part of your noble quest?”
“Godfrey was not the man you think he was. He’s the leader of a secret group that has spread itself throughout the barony, attacking people in the forest.”
Not exactly true, but also not untrue, and it saved trying to explain about the veil and messages sent through time and space.
“Which explains why you murdered him, left, and returned to the scene of the crime, does it? Witnesses saw you. Several witnesses reported seeing you two, along with a Ranger and his pet wolf, leaving in quite a hurry.”
“We didn’t murder Godfrey,” Osric said firmly. “He attacked us, and we defended ourselves.”
“A likely story,” Lockewood scoffed. “I’m sure the majesties will take it under advisement.”
“Captain, I am Rowan Wycliff, a duly sworn Greenwood Ranger,” Rowan said, pushing his way in front of Osric. “I am tasked with defense of the realm. The defense against Godfrey was done under my authority, in protection of these people are under my protection.”
“Is that so? Well, Ranger, let me make something very clear. You hold no authority here. In Farvale, the law is upheld by the guard, not by self-appointed vigilantes who think they can play judge, jury, and executioner. Your kind has always seen themselves as above everyone else, a law unto yourselves. But not in my city.”
The Ranger looked to them guards, who seemed to stiffen at the proclamation, then back to Lockewood, and said nothing in response. She eyed him for another hard moment, and then turned to Osric.
“Your story might hold more weight if you weren’t gallivanting about with a known thief and nuisance. This one,” she said, gesturing toward Grace, “has been a thorn in Farvale’s side for a long time. Breaking into homes, stealing from honest citizens, and now, apparently, graduating to murder to get what she wants.”
“Please,” Grace said, scoffing and crossing her arms. “Like I need to murder someone to get what I want. I’m not an amateur.”
“Grace,” Jasper said. “Shut up.”
Grace opened her mouth to retort, but a sharp kick against her heel from Jasper silenced her. She settled for a disgruntled huff instead.
“You’ll have your chance to plead your case before the magistrate in the morning,” Lockewood said, watching the interchange. “Though I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The penalty for murder is clear. You’ll be taken to the block come dawn.”
“Captain, please,” Osric said, seeing everything they’d worked for coming to a screeching halt. “Godfrey tried to kill us. He was a dangerous man, involved in dark things. We were only defending ourselves.”
“Which naturally explains why you came to his home, knocked on his door, and were seen being ushered inside. Because that’s what one does when defending oneself from a dangerous man.”
Osric opened his mouth to defend himself further, but Captain Lockewood cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Save it for the magistrate. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated by your tales of secret societies and noble quests. Personally, I’m just glad you were foolish enough to come back and try to loot Godfrey’s house again. Makes my job that much easier,” she said, waving a hand to her men. “Get them out of here. I want them in cells before the sun rises.”
***
Osric sat on the hard wooden bench in the dimly lit cell, his head in his hands. This had all gone so wrong, and exactly at the moment they found out where the temple was. What if they couldn’t talk their way out? He’d heard prisoners who weren’t sent to the block were shipped off to the mines on the far west of the kingdom, to work the outer ranges of the Cragshire Mountains, digging into the ground until either they died in an accident or through sheer exhaustion.
Or maybe the veil would break and the world would end before that.
The rest of his companions looked about as dejected as he felt. Well, except for Grace. She acted like this was some kind of fun excursion. Of course, she’d been in this position many more times than he had, so maybe for her it was.
He was finally pulled out of his wallowing by the clang of a key in the thick metal door. For a moment, he hoped it might have been Captain Lockewood, here to tell them she’d examined their story and they were free to go, but when the door opened, it was just some junior guard officer. Osric thought maybe he was here to bring them food or interrogate them some more, until he saw the cold look in the man’s eyes.
He ignored everyone else and looked directly at Osric. “You, come with me.”
Something about the way he said that, and the look in his eyes, told Osric not to trust him. That there was more going on here than just normal guard business.
“Why?” Osric said.
“Because I told you to. Or do you want me to come in there and make you follow me?”
“Tell me what you want, first,” Osric said, standing up and backing away.
The rest of his friends, minus Grace, had started to close in on Osric, blocking him with their bodies. The guard, whoever he was, looked at each of them contemptuously for a moment before looking past them, focusing on Osric.
“I want you to come with me and stop giving me lip. If you listen to me now, your friends can live. But you’re coming out of here one way or another.”
“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Talia said, standing in front of Osric.
“Have it your way,” The guardsman said and waved to the side, beckoning in six men who were defiantly not part of the guard inside.
They were, however, armed.
“Kill his friends and bring me…”
“What is the meaning of this?” A voice called out from just outside of the door, interrupting him.
A moment later, Captain Lockewood appeared behind them.
“Captain…” the guard said, whirling and staring at her open-mouthed, his calm demeanor gone. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“Clearly,” she said, laying a hand on the pommel of her sword. “Who are these men, and why are you in here with the prisoners?”
“Leave now, Captain, and we can discuss this later.”
“I will not.”
“Fine,” the man said, the surprise giving way back to confidence as he looked over his men and then back to Lockewood, clearly reasoning out the odds. “Kill off them.”
Chaos erupted as the men all drew weapons and attacked. Lockewood reacted instantly, charging toward the traitorous guard, her longsword glowing faintly blue as she pulled it from its sheath, the blade just catching under the man’s shoulder pauldron, drawing first blood, causing him to stumble back in surprise at how quickly she acted.
She wasn’t the only one who acted quickly. Grace darted in between two of their attackers, pulling a pair of daggers that the men searching her had somehow missed. The armed men around her barely had time to register her as she came around him, one arm dropping low, slashing behind the knee, and the other swinging down as he toppled backward, puncturing into the side of his neck. He didn’t even have a chance to look surprised as he fell, dead before he’d even taken a step.
The guardsman Sable was fighting was no amateur and brought up his own weapon as he staggered back, slashing out wildly at her. Sable ducked back and brought up the rear of her blade, catching his at the hilt and deflecting it before her sword whipped around in a lightning-fast riposte. She was at a full arm’s length, so the weapon did little more than cut a gouge out of his cheek, but if he survived this, he would have a scar to remember it by.
Several of the guards turned to see their friend falling from the seemingly unarmed Grace killing their friend, an opportunity Rowan didn’t waste. Grabbing the man’s wrist, Rowan tucked it in his own and twisted, his hands holding the wrist in place as the hand turned, causing the enemy to cry out and drop his sword.
Osric saw him moving and thought it the best chance for him as well, since he was equally unarmed. Unable to reproduce whatever maneuver Rowan did, Osric instead went to grapple the other distracted man, closer to him. Wrapping his arms around him, Osric pulled him close, putting the years at the forge to work as he crushed the man’s body against his own, pinning his arms.
Talia brought up her hands and, as she’d done before, weaved them in a pattern, pulling at the parts of the veil none of them could see, until the shards of magical energy appeared out of her palms, slamming into one of the men, sending him staggering back, multiple burn marks where they punched through his armor.
Another of the attackers, seeing Talia as a threat, slashed out at her. She managed to jump back just in time, but the blade came much too close to her.
“Heathus, aid us now,” Jasper said, his hand going into the air, a small symbol of his god in his palm.
While Osric knew the gods had the ability to work their magic here in their world, and had them do it through him several times, he’d never actually seen their power invoked before. The medallion in Jasper’s hand glowed a bright white that caused Osric and everyone else to have to look away, the light washing over everyone.
Osric felt something, as it did. Some kind of... energy, or feeling maybe, surging through him. He suddenly felt surer, more steady, more confident. He didn’t know exactly what Jasper’s god had done, but Osric could definitely feel... something.
Grace never stopped moving, darting behind the man Roan had disarmed. He made a grab for her as she passed, but she easily ducked under it, bringing one of her daggers up, underneath the leather front piece of his armor, whipping her blade across as she did, opening his stomach up. The man screamed, falling to the ground in an effort to hold himself together, the color quickly draining from him. Grace kept moving, ignoring the very soon-to-be-dead man.
Behind her, the traitorous guard, blood pouring down his cheek, pressed his attack against the captain, who managed to bring a metal bracer up, deflecting the blade.
Roan scooped up the dead man’s sword and charged forward toward another attacker, who brought his sword up in time to block the attack.
Talia, seeing men pressing toward her, took a small step back and weaved her hands in a pattern around herself, until the shimmering field of energy Osric had seen before materialized around her just in time to stop one of the blades that would have certainly cost her life otherwise.
Jasper brought his outstretched hand down, still grasping the amulet, as he pointed to the man that just attacked Talia. In a voice that was his, but was also not his, almost as if a higher pitched voice mirrored his own, speaking simultaneously, he commanded, “Defend us!”
Osric wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if, for a moment, the man stiffened, before whirling around and bringing his sword down into the shoulder of one of his comrades, who looked from the blade to his comrade in horror.
Osric couldn’t think on that too much, as he was still gripping the struggling attacker with all of his might. Lifting him off the ground, Osric slammed him down into the hard stone floor with all of his might, causing the weapon to skid out of his hands. Osric released him immediately and scooped the blade off the floor, bringing it up in a defensive stance.
After seeing her kill another of their friends, more men went for Grace, who slid under and around every attack, never stopping long enough to be anything other than a blur of movement.
Next to Osric, Rowan cried out as he moved left instead of right at the wrong moment, a blade slashing across his upper arm, leaving a red trail behind.
Lockewood continued to press her attacks. Maybe she’d been fighting slower at first, as she tried to take in the whole scene and work out what was really going on, but now that the battle was in full swing, she showed what she was really about, moving faster than Osric had ever seen someone move with a sword.
After pushing away the guardsman’s blow with her brace, she swung in hard, slicing just under the man’s breastplate and then continuing to slide the blade sideways until it cleared the bottom of his chest piece, leaving a trail of red behind, and then coming back up, punching into his unprotected underarm. Finally, she pulled the blade back and up, so that it was reversed with the pommel at head height and the blade pointing to the ground, just in time to block the guardsman’s counter swing.
She wasn’t done yet. As soon as she deflected his counter swing, she smashed the pommel into his face, which emitted a sickening crunch as his nose shattered, leaving his face a bloody mess. In just a few seconds, she’d defended herself while injuring the turncoat three times.
It was an impressive display that sent the man staggering backward.
Grace was equally as impressive. After stabbing one and eviscerating another, she dodged under an attack, her hand shooting out, sending one of her daggers sailing across the room into the eye of a man heading toward Talia, dropping him where he stood.
That left just one attacker coming at Talia as she backpedaled, her hands weaving furiously. Just as the man lifted his sword to strike, she stopped her retreat and reached forward, pressing her palm into his chest just as electricity exploded from it, wrapping around and through the man.
Osric could smell the unpleasant odor of something cooking as the man dropped to the ground.
Half their attackers were dead, but they were still in danger. As the guard Jasper had bewildered attacked another of his friends, making successful contact as another friend didn’t expect the sudden attack, Jasper charged forward and tangled himself up with one of the men who’d been coming for him. His hold was tenuous, but it made it impossible for his attacker to get a swing on him until he untangled the old priest.
The man Osric had slammed was back on his feet, eyes going to the fallen sword of one of the dead men. Osric wasn’t going to let that happen and lunged forward as the man went to grab it, piercing him through the side. The man managed to roll away from the blade, keeping it from going in enough to cut anything vital, but he was bleeding profusely out of the wound as he came back up to his feet.
The guardsman, enraged at this point, hefted his longsword with both hands, sweeping a wild arc at the Captain, who ducked low under the attack, the blade whistling over her head, and then sprang up, slicing across his chest. The sword bit deep, parting armor and flesh.
Before she could make another attack, Grace seemed to appear out of nowhere, leaping onto the guardsman’s back and plunging her remaining dagger deep into his exposed neck. It was like watching a marionette with its strings cut, the man going limp as he fell to the floor.
Grace, in a bit of exuberant excess, pushed off the man as he fell, performing a flying somersault before landing lightly on her feet.
As Rowan dispatched another attacker, Talia backed away, trying to separate herself from the fight. It occurred to Osric that, far too often, she was exposed, even with or often in front of himself and Rowan. It wasn’t hard for their enemy to identify her as the largest threat they faced, putting her in far too much danger.
Jasper still valiantly held onto his foe, relatching on every time an arm or leg was pried loose. He then surprised everyone by headbutting the assailant hard in the face. The damage seemed minimal, but it was surprising to see such ferocity from someone like him.
The guard who’d been under Jasper’s control seemed to finally snap out of it, stopping cold in the middle of the room, his sword dropping to his side as he tried to figure out what was happening. Unfortunately for him, he had done enough to convince his friends he was a danger, one of whom slashed him across the chest, sending the man reeling.
“Have you lost your mind?” he bellowed. “We’re on the same side, you fool!”
The guardsman gone, Sable pressed forward into the melee, catching one of the men facing Rowan unaware, gripping his shoulder and pulling him back onto the blade as she skewered him.
The few remaining men fell swiftly as the tide turned against them, until only the one Jasper was grappling remained. The cleric let him go and jumped back as the man went for his sword. It wasn’t until after he grabbed the weapon that he realized he was now all by himself. Blood trickled down his nose from where Jasper had headbutted him and he had a desperate, crazed look in his eyes.
“Drop the sword and surrender,” Lockewood said, leveling her sword at him.
For a moment, it looked like he might consider it, as he looked around at the bodies of his friends, when suddenly he leapt forward with a wild cry. Sable pulled her weapon back into a ready stance, prepared for the man’s attack... an attack that never came as Osric lashed out with his own sword, intercepting the man and cutting him down before he could get close.
Osric pulled his borrowed sword out of the man and looked around the room. The would-be assassins were all dead at their feet, and the immediate danger was gone. But a shocked-looking Lockewood was still between them and the door, and it was unclear what would happen next.
“Are you alright, Captain?” he asked.
“I’ll live,” she said, shaking out of her stupor and sheathing her sword, which amazingly remained free of blood in spite of the damage it did. “Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on? Who were those men, and why did our own guardsmen just try to kill me?”
“It’s as we told you. There’s a group, working in secret, towards some agenda we don’t fully understand yet. This is not the first time they’ve tried to kill us.”
“Why? Why are they trying to kill you?”
“It’s … hard to explain. Or at least it’s a very long story.”
“The gods have given Osric a mission that will hopefully save the world,” Jasper said. “They have spoken to him, and myself, in visions, and have set him on a task of the utmost importance.”
“What kind of mission?” Lockewood said, the skepticism in her voice impossible to miss.
“Have you seen, or at least have heard about, the strange creatures that have begun to show up in the forest, and maybe other places, over the last twenty or thirty years? The sudden attacks by monstrous creatures like Webscuttlers and the like?” Rowan asked.
“I know of them.”
“These aren’t beings of our reality, but creatures escaped from other places of existence through gaps in the world. The gods want to close these gaps and have quested Osric here to do that.”
Osric wasn’t sure it was completely true that the gods had quested him to do anything. They’d nudged him in a direction, to be sure, but the Sage, who, by his own admission, had limited contact with the gods, had been the one to send him. And only for a document, not to actually close the gaps in the veil itself. That would have required a whole lot more explanation, so Osric went with it, since as hard as the story was to believe, the truth would be a lot harder to convince her of.
“And they want to stop you? Why?”
“We don’t know,” Osric said. “We only know they have been trying since we first learned of the problem and started trying to solve it. We came to Farvale originally because I was given a vision of Jasper, and Jasper a vision of me, but we didn’t know how to find each other. We’d heard of Godfrey and thought he might know where we could find Jasper. Had we known he was involved in this organization, we wouldn’t have gone there.”
“Godfrey was almost gleeful that we delivered ourselves to him,” Talia said. “He attacked us. Tried to kill us. As we said. He was just a part of the organization, though, and clearly they aren’t ready to stop. They don’t want Osric completing his quest and are willing to kill anyone to stop him.”
“And what is this quest? Where are you supposed to go from here?”
“We’re going southwest, to the hills between here and Eldamar, looking for an ancient battle site,” Jasper said. “It’s why we returned to Godfrey’s house at all. After they found me and we talked, I realized that Godfrey was the only one who might know the location of the place Osric is looking for. We’d just found it when you and your men arrested us.”
For a moment, Lockewood just stared at them. Osric could see her working through everything they’d just laid at her feet and hoped she would believe them. It was a lot to ask. He knew that. Missions from the gods, a secret organization spread across the kingdom, holes in reality. Asking anyone to believe all of that was a stretch, and yet it was their only hope.
In custody, eventually the Brethren would be able to get them. Kill them. And just when they were so close to their goal.
He needed the Captain to believe them, at least enough to let them go. He held his breath as he watched her working it out, deciding if they were telling the truth or not.
“This is... a lot to take in,” she finally said.
“I know it sounds far-fetched, Captain. But you’ve seen the evidence with your own eyes. You have to have wondered about the escalation of creatures in the forest. We all have. You saw your own man try to kill you. I don’t know if you heard everything he said to us, but he let these men in here. Armed. Why else would he do that?”
She looked at the bodies spread across the room, still considering, before finally saying, “You’re right. I can’t deny what’s right in front of me.”
She fell silent again, wrestling with something in her own mind. Osric didn’t say anything, tried not to breathe. He knew what she was deciding, and he didn’t want to do anything that might interrupt her from the obvious conclusion, make her lock them back in the cell.
“I’m going to let you go,” she finally said.
“Really?” Talia asked, hopefully.
“Yes. I don’t fully understand what’s going on here, but clearly there’s some element of truth to your story. Enough, at least, that if this is true, then the part about the gods and a danger to the world might also be true. I swore to protect the people of my city, and I can’t very well do anything myself about holes in the world, or whatever you said. The only thing I can do is let you go and hope you stop whatever is happening, so that my people don’t have to face that.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Osric said. “We appreciate your trust in us. If we can stop this and keep your people, and everyone else safe, we will.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to explain all of this. Dead guards, armed strangers, escaped prisoners…”
“Tell them the truth,” Rowan suggested. “Or at least, a version of it.”
Lockewood raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”
“That your man tried to have us killed,” Osric said. “Hired thugs to do his dirty work. You arrived just in time to prevent a slaughter, and in doing so, proved our innocence.”
“I suppose that could work. He never was very popular, anyway. I can’t exactly tell them about secret assassins and ancient quests, can I?”
Grace chuckled. “Not unless you want to end up in a cell next to ours.”
“You should be careful,” Osric said. “Between Godfrey and your guardsman, they’ve managed to get their men into fairly highly placed positions. They are almost certainly not the only members of their group in Farvale.”
“Is there a way to identify them?” Lockewood asked. “Know who they are?”
Osric shook his head. “I wish I knew. We’re still trying to figure that out ourselves.”
“Alright. I suppose that’s a problem for another day.” She gestured towards the door. “You should go. Get out of town, now, while you still can.”
“We will,” Osric said, stepping over the bodies, before pausing and turning back to Lockewood. “Thank you again, Captain.”
“Just... be safe out there. And if you find out anything more about these bastards infiltrating my city, you let me know.”
“We will,” Osric said.
