Blood and Shadows by Dayne Edmondson
Their first day of riding had been uneventful. They passed streams of travelers and merchants headed to Tar Ebon and away from the great city; all the while the light atop the Tower of the Seven Stars glowed high in the sky at their backs. As night fell, the companions sought shelter. They found the small town of Selma nestled along the banks of the Tar River. The town of Selma, boasting a few hundred homes at most, was one of many small towns and villages that lined the river road from Tar Ebon down to Valnos. Because there were so many of the towns and villages, no one town dominated the countryside. Instead, each village or town grew their own food, sold to travelers and merchants as they passed and tried to keep to themselves.
As the companions arrived at the village limits, they noticed something strange – there were almost no people on the streets. Here and there a villager would scurry across the road before opening the door of a home or business and rushing inside. In one case, Dawyn could hear the sound of a lock sliding into place. Shades were drawn over windows to dim the light from lanterns within or lamps were extinguished. Drawing up to one of the two inns in town, they found a similar situation. Aren't taverns supposed to be inviting to visitors rather than forbidding, Dawyn thought?
“I don’t know that I like the look of this place,” Anwyn remarked, looking around. She edged her horse closer to Dawyn. “Are the people scared of us or something?”
“I wouldn’t think it would be us they are afraid of,” replied Dawyn, “but we’re about to find out.” He pointed to where a group consisting of six men walked down the street toward them. “It appears that the welcoming party has arrived,” he said wryly. “Keep your weapons at the ready.” He checked his blades to ensure they were loose in the scabbard and saw Favio reaching beneath his cloak for a throwing knife. Alivia sat atop her horse, clutching the reins of Gallant. As a mage, she hardly needed mundane weapons. Anwyn carried a quarterstaff at her side. Druids were known for their aversion to bladed weapons, and Anwyn was no exception. Dawyn had seen her practicing with the quarterstaff the morning of their departure from Tar Ebon – she was pretty good.
The men looked anything but welcoming. Each man wore a dark-colored cloak and walked with hoods drawn up. They had a dangerous gait that made Dawyn clutch the hilt of one blade. The group stopped before the companions and one man, who appeared to be the leader, stepped forward.
The man who approached lowered his hood. He sported a terrible-looking scar on his right cheek that went from his ear to his mouth while a patch covered his right eye. The scowl on his face did not change as he looked the group over. His eyes seemed to linger upon Anwyn and he stared at Alivia, drinking in her beauty, before passing over Favio and meeting the eyes of Dawyn. “Well, well, what have we here? What business do travelers such as you have in our town this late at night?”
Dawyn cleared his throat. “We are passing through and are looking to purchase lodging for the night. We are headed south.”
“Ah, well, you see there is a price to pay in this town,” the man drawled, drawing a long knife from his belt. “It will be seven gold marks for each of you, though we’ll accept other favors from the two women in exchange for their safe passage.” He leered once again at Alivia and she sniffed in disgust.
Dawyn thought for a moment. If they fought, they might reveal themselves. Surely these men were working under the authority of Lord Garik. If they didn’t fight, they would be setting a dangerous precedent of complacency that could invite the men to demand more recompense from them. Dawyn suspected they set the price so high because they assumed the group could not pay. If they did pay, the men would attempt to slit their throats and take the rest of the money for themselves. No, today was no day for being meek.
“We have naught with which to you pay you, bandit,” Dawyn replied, “except cold steel.” Drawing his dual blades, he pointed one at the man while gesturing at the other six men with the other. Behind him, he could hear Favio drawing his throwing knives. A sudden flickering light that illuminated the scene declared the weapon of choice for Alivia - fire. Anwyn pulled her quarterstaff into her hand and held it in a defensive pose.
The man looked over the group of travelers, eyes wide, before coming out of his stupor and turning to his men. “Don’t just stand there you fools; attack!” The other six men drew their blades and began to spread out. Glints of steel in the firelight from Alivia’s flame showed throwing knives being drawn.
The assassins sought to encircle the group, attacking them from multiple directions. Dawyn gave them no chance, however, and spurred Shadow into action. The black stallion leaped forward, almost trampling the leader of the group, while Dawyn swung downward and sliced off one of the man’s hands as he passed. He found himself, moments later, in the midst of the assassins, fending off slashes with daggers and laying about him with his blades. One man fell from a blow to the chest, while another man tripped and was trampled by Shadow. A third man, seeking to take Dawyn from behind, found a knife sticking from his chest and collapsed to the ground. Another knife streaked from Favio’s hand, passing just inches from Dawyn’s face, to take another man in the shoulder, giving Dawyn time to parry his blow.
The fourth man of the group had chosen to go for Alivia, though that turned out to be a fatal mistake. Alivia watched as the man approached and, with a thought, bound his feet into the earth, swallowing him up to his ankles. He tripped in his momentum and fell. He managed to right himself, but not before Alivia launched a large fireball that exploded when it hit him, engulfing him in flame. As he burned, the mound of earth that held his bound feet receded and he was able to run away before collapsing in the dirt of the town center. The man died screaming, the smell of scorched flesh billowing up in the air.
The fifth bandit looked around at his companions who were wounded or dead, but moved toward Anwyn anyway, seeking an easy target. Anwyn, not used to fighting with a quarterstaff on horseback, leaped from her horse and took a defensive stance. The man thrust with a dagger, hoping to pierce her, but she twirled her staff to knock the dagger off course. The man shouted in pain and surprise. Anwyn thrust the quarterstaff forward as if it were a spear and hammered the man in his gut. He doubled over at the force of the blow gasping for breath, his dagger falling to the ground. As he stood hunched over, trying to recover, Anwyn swept the quarterstaff sideways and knocked him on the side of the head, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious and his head bleeding.
The sixth and final assassin, seeing his brothers fallen around him, turned to run, but was caught in the back by a knife thrown by Favio. Favio walked up to the man’s twitching body and pulled out his throwing knife. The man still lived, but would die a painful death. Favio reached around and slit his throat, spilling blood into the dirt. “A mercy to die quickly,” he murmured.
The small battle ended, and Dawyn turned back to the leader of the assassins. The man was clutching the stump where his hand had been, disbelief in his eyes. “Go,” Dawyn commanded, pointing eastward, “take your companion who still lives and never return to this village. Give up your ways and never again take up the blade of an assassin or I will hunt you both down. Do I make myself clear?” Dawyn put as much menace in his voice as he could muster – he wanted to scare the man to death so that he would never speak of this day, not even to his master.
The man nodded his head frantically. “Yes, yes, I understand, sir. We will go far away and never speak of this day or take up a blade ever again.” The man stumbled over to his unconscious companion, hoisting him onto his shoulders and raced, scared out of his mind, down the path eastward out of town.
“Are you sure letting them go is wise, Dawyn?” Favio asked.
“I would rather not kill in cold blood if I can avoid it, Favio. There is a small chance he might run across some assassins and tell his story, but I believe it to be a small risk. Now, let’s see if we can find a place to sleep tonight – I’m exhausted.”
The fighting had taken place in front of an inn which the sign
Dawyn placed his foot in the doorway and his hand on the door. “Please, sir, we are just travelers looking for a place to bed down for the evening. You need not fear the dark-clothed men; they have been dealt with.”
The man opened his eyes wider at hearing this news, and then looked past Dawyn at his companions. “Is this true?” he called to them.
“'Tis true, good sir,” Favio replied. “We killed most of the assassins and drove the other two away for good. You need not fear this night.”
Dawyn could tell by the look of profound relief on the man’s face that the assassins had been terrorizing the town for quite some time. Innocent people should not have to live in such terror all of the time, not this close to Tar Ebon. Dawyn added this small town to the list of reasons that Garik had to be brought to justice.
The man sighed and opened the door wider. “In that case, I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude. Come on in.” As the four companions filed into the inn, the man called out, “Verna, we have visitors.”
A moment later Dawyn could hear movement above them and a portly middle-aged woman descended the stairs. She was wearing a pink night-gown and her hair ran down to the center of her back. It seemed to Dawyn that many men and women who worked in inns or taverns were heavier-set. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, but it seemed due to the excess of food and alcohol they were exposed to. Being around such temptations for too long could cause anyone to crave such things.
After the man had closed the door, Dawyn turned to him. “I cannot thank you enough. My name is Dawyn and these are my companions Anwyn, Alivia and Favio.” He pointed to each in turn as he spoke their names. They each nodded to the man and he returned the nods while shaking hands with Dawyn.
“My name is Charles and this is my wife, Verna.” Charles gestured to the portly woman. “Verna, these folks were kind enough to drive out Garik’s men. I promised them rooms for the night as thanks.”
“That is wonderful news,” Verna exclaimed. “Does that mean we can re-open the inn, Charles?”
“I do believe it does,” Charles said with a smile. “I’ll go stable your horses, if that’s all right with you. We still have some grain lying around that should be good.”
“That would be appreciated, thank you,” Dawyn said.
“Excellent,” Verna said with a clap, “now you all come with me and I’ll get you set up in rooms. You want four separate rooms, yes?”
“If you have that many to spare, that would be greatly appreciated,” Dawyn replied.
Charles laughed grimly as he headed for the door. “Son, we were closed for the last three months, living in fear for our safety. Needless to say, we have an inn full of rooms. You can each have your pick.”
One by one, each of the companions were granted room keys and climbed the stairs. They had decided to choose rooms that were clustered together so that in the event of an attack or fire at the inn, they could re-group and protect one another. Not that Dawyn expected any further violence that evening, but past experience had taught him to be prudent.
Dawyn was the last to receive his key. As he ascended the stairs, Verna called out to him. “As I told your companions, there will be breakfast waiting for you in the morning. I’ll be cooking bacon and eggs, with fresh grits and a tankard of our finest ale, on the house.”
Dawyn turned to her and smiled. “That would be a great kindness. Thank you, Verna. Good night to you both.”
The night passed and Dawyn woke to the tempting aroma of breakfast being cooked below. He felt well rested as the light of dawn streamed through the east-facing window. He had chosen this room for that purpose. He had slept in his traveling clothes, though he had washed his hands, face and feet in the wash basin prior to sleeping. He strapped on his sword belt and grabbed his backpack.
As Dawyn descended the stairs, the smell of delicious food being cooked grew stronger and he could hear the sound of voices coming from the main floor. He found Alivia, Anwyn, Favio and Charles all sitting around a large table with benches along each side. They were in the midst of laughing at a humorous tale being told.
Charles saw Dawyn and smiled. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Dawyn said with a smile in return. “Better than I have in a while.”
“Excellent. Let me have Verna bring your plate out for you,” Charles said, as he walked out of the room toward the kitchens.
As Charles exited the room, Dawyn took a seat at the long bench. “How long have you all been up?”
“About an hour,” Favio replied. “I awoke to find these two,” he gestured to Anwyn and Alivia, “gossiping like a gaggle of hens with Verna. Who knows how long they’ve been up for?”
Alivia gave Favio a cool stare, as if offended by what he had said. “For your information, neither of us could sleep. It’s not surprising men are the ones who sleep the longest far from home.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a place I called home,” Dawyn said. “I had to learn to sleep anywhere or I’d have died from exhaustion long ago.”
“And I,” Favio said, “am a traveling tale-spinner. Inns are all I have known since I was a boy.”
“Well, I, for one, grew up in the Tower. Forgive me for having more refined tastes than the two of you.”
“What about you, Anwyn?” Dawyn asked, seeking to change the subject and turning to the druid. She been up longer than he had, and somehow she had found time to change into a new outfit and do her hair. She looked quite beautiful despite the hour. “What’s your reason for not sleeping well?”
“Well, let’s just say I’ve never been that comfortable in any bed,” Anwyn said. “I’m more of an outdoor type of girl.” She looked away, the conversation at an end. Dawyn could piece together the rest, however. She was a druid – a guardian of nature. Shape-shifting wasn’t all druids could do. It was said they could listen to the wind and hear the trees, that they could make living plants grow and breathe life anew into dead or dying ones. Druids were renowned for their ability to heal with herbs and magic, though seldom did they journey from their ancestral lands. For all their power, they were a secretive people. The native woodland people that resided in the eastern lands beyond the White Mountains respected the druids and protected their lands with ferocity. Many a lord or king had tried to take their lands from them and learned the folly of fighting woodland people and druids on their native soil.
Dawyn nodded. The awkward silence was broken a moment later as Verna entered the room, carrying Dawyn’s breakfast platter. Charles followed her out. “Here you are, dearie,” Verna said. “You have to keep up your strength.”
“Thank you, Verna,” Dawyn said, eying the array of food before him. “Everything looks and smells delicious.” He took a bite. “Mmmm, and it tastes delicious, as well.”
Verna looked pleased at his compliments. “I’m glad you like it.” She smiled. “Eat up, all of you. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you I expect.”
Charles had seated himself as Dawyn talked with Verna. “So, I hear that you’re heading for Henry’s Crossing, eh? What business do you have there, if I may be so bold?”
Dawyn chewed as he mulled over the question. Charles and Verna seemed nice enough, but how far could he trust them? Did he dare tell this man the truth of his identity and those of his companions? No, Charles might not tell anyone, but it would be best if he didn’t know at all. If more of Garik’s men came around and tortured him, there could be the possibility that he would break and tell them everything he knew about them. Better not to let anything out about their true identities. As for their true purpose though, that was
“We’re heading south hunting rumors of Lord Garik being down in that region. Each of us has a score to settle with the man, but we need to find him first. Have you heard anything about him?”
“Aye, I’ve heard plenty about old Lord Garik. Rumors started spreading in here about six months past. Stories of entire assassins' and thieves’ guilds bowing before Lord Garik, with little blood spilled. The merchants who told the tales seemed terrified. Thieves had become emboldened and were roving across the countryside mugging travelers in broad daylight. The king’s men can only do so much and I know it but, by the Founders, it sure does seem from where I’m sitting that the king isn’t doing a damn thing about this whole affair.”
“I’m sure the soldiers are doing all they can,” replied Alivia, giving Dawyn a quick glance and then looking back toward Charles. “It can’t be an easy life.”
“You are right about that, lass. I served in the king’s army for just over twenty years. Achieved the rank of captain at one point, so I know how things go. A soldier is only as good as the army at his back and the support of his king, as the saying goes. The army is dwindling and the king doesn’t seem to be supporting his people. If he doesn’t change things, the people may give up on him.”
“If the people give up on the king they will be letting the denizens of the underworld win,” Anwyn argued. “The people wouldn’t want that.”
Charles chuckled. “What the people want is stability. They want to be able to feel safe at night. So if surrendering to the assassin and thief guilds and paying tribute gives them a semblance of safety by knowing that they’ll be kept alive then who am I to tell them otherwise. As I said, I’ve been a soldier for more than half my life. I have great respect for the king – I served under his father before him too, but others don’t think like I do.” Charles speech set a sorrowful mood in the room. Perhaps Charles had a point, though Dawyn had a hard time imagining that the people would give up and surrender to the darkness without a fight.
“I’ve heard other dark things from Henry’s Crossing, too. It’s said that a strange noise can be heard in the woods surrounding the town in the dark of night. Bodies have been found, their heads removed and the blood drained out of them. Some people claim it is a creature of some sort, while others claim it is a murderer on the loose. It is said that a group of huntsman, some twenty strong, went into the woods. One came back alive, and he was rambling about some creature with giant pincers for hands, four legs like a crab and a hard carapace all over. He claimed that they fired arrows at it but they just bounced off. The creature’s central pincers where his mouths are believed to be could chop a man in half with a single snap. The last merchant that came through here was several weeks past. He stayed for a bit before Lord Garik's thugs forced him to pay, but he told us that every night seven people were found dead. ‘Blood and shadows have come to Henry’s Crossing’ the man had said.”
“Don’t the lord and lady of that land take action?” Alivia said.
Charles shook his head. “Lord Tomas and Lady Igraine refute all claims the creature exists. Anyone who speaks out against them is soon found in a dark alleyway without a head, if you believe the stories. In addition to that, there have been sightings of known thieves and assassins entering their manor unchallenged by the guards. If I were a betting man I would bet everything that the lord and lady are in bed with Lord Garik and his followers. Those two would be a good place to start – if you can reach them.”
“We’re pretty good at getting to hard-to-reach places,” Favio said. “Any idea why Lord Garik chose Henry’s Crossing as his seeming base of operations?”
“It’s a supply hub,” Dawyn said before Charles could reply. “It’s one of the pivotal crossroads between Valnos in the south, Malanor in the southwest and Durnhold in the southeast. By having their operations there, they can bypass the city of Tar Ebon and remain undetected longer. Also, by having access to the Tar River, they can ferry their goods wherever they please almost with impunity, as the king’s navy doesn’t patrol the rivers. It’s quite a strategic move by Lord Garik. He gains centrality and the ability to move to anywhere in the southern regions between the mountains, whether on the king’s roads or by boat. He will be entrenched there.”
“Aye, it may take more than just the four of you to take down Lord Garik,” Charles said.
“We are possessed of some unique abilities,” Dawyn said. “We’ll hold our own.”
“Have you heard rumor of a mage in Henry’s Crossing, Charles?” Alivia asked. Dawyn had been expecting the question. One of her primary responsibilities on this mission was to be the counter to the female mage that Lord Garik had close to him. It was natural that she would want to know more about the woman.
“No,” Charles said with a thought, “I can’t say that I have. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, friend,” Dawyn said. “You’ve helped us more than you know.”
“Eh, just doing my duty to help protect the kingdom. I may no longer wear the uniform, but once a solider of Tar Ebon, always a soldier.”
“We should gather our things and be going now,” Dawyn said. “Again, we cannot thank you enough for all you have done for us.”
“Nor can Verna and I thank you enough, kind traveler. Allow me to go fetch Verna while you all gather your things. I know she’ll want to say goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving without saying goodbye to your lovely wife,” Favio exclaimed. “Why, that would be so terribly rude of me.”
The group walked upstairs to gather the remainder of their belongings. Within five minutes they had reported back to the common room of the inn. The four exchanged hugs with Verna and shook hands with Charles. “You folks were the nicest I think I’ve ever had visit my inn,” Verna said with a slight tear in her eye. “You all remind me a lot of my own children, Founders bless them. You all be safe now.”
As they were filing out of the inn on their way to the stables, a thought struck Dawyn. Setting his backpack down, he reached in and un-clasped the brooch at the top of the front of his cloak. It was a golden “S” laid over a symbol of the Tower of the Seven Stars. A crown sat atop the tower. Clutching it in his hand for a moment, he straightened and handed it to Charles.
The man stood speechless. Finally, he said, “By the Founders, is this…?” Charles had been in the army, so Dawyn suspected he would know.
“It’s what you think it is, Charles. I would like you to keep it as a reminder that the king has not forgotten you or your people. When visitors once again grace your tavern tell them you believe in their king. We have not forsaken you.”
“This is too much for me to keep, Commander. I’m not worthy of such a gift.” The fact that the brooch was pure gold signified Dawyn’s rank within the Shadow Watch Guard. The commander of the Guard wore a gold brooch – the other members wore silver ones.
“Consider it a loan, then,” Dawyn said. “Keep it safe for me until I return one day to claim it. Can you do that?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, sir, I can do that.” He snapped to attention and gave Dawyn a salute.
Dawyn returned the salute and then extended his hand one last time to shake Charles’. Turning, he strode toward the stables and didn’t look back. A long journey was still ahead to Henry’s Crossing, and his reasons for making for the town with all due haste had increased.
Chapter 13: Dark Travels