Chapter 27

Darras was seriously pissing off the horse and wagon broker in his inspection of his wagons, having rejected five so far for poor repairs to their original workmanship. Balat, who was watching with interest, was also clearly trying to keep a straight face.

“No, this will definitely not do,” Darras informed the broker. “You came recommended, but your care of the wagons is substandard to say the least.”

“Other bounty hunters have not had any issues,” the broker protested sullenly.

“I am not other bounty hunters. My quarry has allies and I may need to speedily remove him from the Mercenary State.”

“Well ... I do have one wagon that may meet your standards then...” the broker began a little reluctantly.

“Then let me see it,” Darras demanded. “If it is acceptable a bonus will be paid. If it is not, I shall look elsewhere.”

“Well, it’s this one,” the broker pointed out a sturdy, if old, cart. “It has never let any party who used it down, though most reject it as too old.”

Darras examined the wagon and was slowly impressed. It was, appearances notwithstanding, in perfect condition considering its age.

“You should have started with this,” Darras informed the broker. “You have just earned yourself a bonus.”

“How? It’s old!”

“And in perfect condition. Whoever made this was a true craftsman!”

“Really?”

“Really. When we return, you may want to consider a lick of paint, as well as gathering your repairmen to examine what true quality is,” Darras chided him.

“I am truly astonished,” the broker admitted. “Er ... you mentioned a bonus?”

“Two silvers over and above the normal price,” Darras replied, handing over twelve silvers, five of which were a bond and would be returned if the cart was in good condition.

“Why were you so choosy over the cart?” Balat asked once they were underway.

“I’ve driven over roads like this before,” Darras replied. “I doubt we’d get twenty miles on those others before we needed a repair of some sort.”

“How far to the target?”

“Fifty.”

“And this old thing is good for a hundred miles?”

“Yes, whoever built it knew what they were doing. It’s reinforced in all the right places and even the cursory maintenance the broker did was enough to keep it in good condition,” Darras explained.

Neither the weather nor the roads improved on their journey, though thankfully the inns they stayed in were free of the impressment recruiters. So it was on their third day that Darras and Balat reached the village of Scurm, not too far from the cottage where their target hopefully remained unaware of their proximity.

“Are we going straight after him ... it?” Balat asked.

“No,” Darras replied. “If he has goblin guards, they’ll have a greater advantage at night. As it is, we’ll have a hard enough job in his cottage trying to get him and not being got ourselves.”

“Are they that dangerous?”

“In confined dark spaces? Yes,” Darras confirmed. “Nor does this Vessil venture out much. He has those who bring him information supply him with food and drink.”

“And we need those mask things you showed me to protect our eyes?”

“Yes, which means we’ll be relying more on our ears as our vision will be limited.”

“I see,” Balat nodded as they entered an inn to arrange lodgings for the night.

The first thing Darras noticed as they stepped inside were a party of men who’s bearing simply screamed ‘military’ and he guessed that they were impressment recruiters. Therefore, he deliberately asked for a room for himself and Balat, though used the word apprentice clearly to hopefully stop any foolishness.

“Do not wander off,” Darras warned Balat.

“Aye, I saw them too,” Balat nodded.

“Good. Hopefully they’ll leave us be, but be prepared to defend yourself if necessary.”

Food and ale were served to them and the pair ate whilst keeping their backs to the wall in a corner where they couldn’t be flanked. It was obvious, however, that tensions were rising in the main bar area as the recruiters were checking everyone who arrived, though it appeared that a warning to the young men in the village and area had been given. Finally, one of them arose and approached Darras and Balat.

“Good evening, sir,” he began. “May I know the nature of your business here?”

“Darras Blain, bounty hunter and my apprentice, Balat Forestkin,” Darras replied, politely, though was observing the body language of the man and his party.

“So you aren’t from Courrantil?”

“No, and nor am I about to part with my apprentice either,” Darras chuckled. “Just letting you know.”

“Come now, we are civilised men here and this was simply an enquiry as to your work,” the man replied seemingly jovially, though Darras noted the coldness now in his stare.

“Civilised or not, just letting you know I have his indentures with me and should any incidents happen there’ll be a reckoning in blood.”

“Pah, paperwork can be forged!”

“Not that of Fordel,” Darras replied, causing the man to pause as he realised Balat was pretty much untouchable.

“I’ll bid you a good evening then,” he finally responded and returned to his table where the others in his party closed heads in an intense discussion.

“I doubt this is over,” Balat murmured.

“As do I,” Darras chuckled. “Though nothing will happen tonight. It will be in the morning when they’ll be able to see to make their escape with their targets.”

“The door on our room is fairly stout.”

“Aye. So I expect it will be when we emerge.”

“True, that or in the stable,” Balat replied, thinking of possible areas of danger.

“Yes. I suspect they’ve had slim pickings in Scurm, so might just try something stupid to make up for their lack of luck.”

‘It will be an attempt on you as you leave town, your direction was noted, ’ Erren informed Darras.

“Seems like they have murder and kidnapping on their minds,” Darras murmured.

“Murder?” Balat asked with a frown.

“A bond from Fordel is magically locked from master to apprentice and cannot be broken or destroyed save by the death of the master,” Darras explained.

“I did not know that.”

“Neither did I until a few days ago,” Darras chuckled.

“Erren told you?”

“Yes. She tries to keep me as well informed as needs be,” Darras replied.

“Will I get to meet her?”

“If we are successful and survive this,” Darras answered the keen young man.

“Yes, I guess there would be that,” Balat subsided a little.

“We have the element of surprise; the shadow won’t know we’re coming.”

Scurm was a village at the entrance to Scurm Gorge where a wide river wound through as well as the main road to the neighbouring Kingdom of Tsurok, a militaristic Realm that few dared to offend, though was otherwise peaceful in nature other than an ongoing low-key war with its neighbour, Blandel. It was to Tsurok that Courrantil supplied most of its mercenary Regiments. Vessil’s cottage was situated in the entrance to the gorge next to the river and adjacent to the road and so was easy enough to find. The recruiters believed the woodlands next to the road was the perfect place for an ambush. Unfortunately for them, they were unaware of the woodnymph who had been observing Vessil’s cottage and who acted to aid the pair when the recruiters stepped out to apprehend Darras and Balat.

Darras was not surprised to see the recruiters move out to try to seize the horse and stop the wagon. He was surprised when there was a scream from one of the party of recruiters as a tree branch swept down, seized him and pinned him down. This was followed up by the rest of the recruiters desperately failing to dodge the wrath of the woods as they were relentlessly hunted down by it.

“My thanks, good Nymph,” Darras greeted the semi-transparent woman who had clearly saved him some bother in preventing a kidnapping.

“You are welcome, sir Darras,” she replied. “I am Lonie, tasked by Doriel to observe Vessil’s cottage.”

“Well met, Lonie,” Darras nodded. “What will become of them?” He indicated the recruiters.

“Their hearts are full of malice. They will make good fertiliser,” she replied coolly.

“As Doriel wills it,” Darras replied as the desperately struggling men were drawn back into the woods and to their grim fate.

“That seems somewhat harsh,” Balat added quietly.

“They would have kidnapped and enslaved you, Balat,” Darras replied. “Do not sympathise with them.”

“They offended the sanctity of my woods, by attacking the servant of my goddess,” Lonie added. “A price must be paid; such is the lore of Doriel.”

“Her blessings be upon you, Lonie,” Darras replied.

“And upon both of you,” Lonie responded. “Vessil is in his cottage. Sitting like a spider in the centre of a web. The Goblins lurk in the eaves and guard him.”

“Is he visited regularly?” Darras asked, moving the wagon into the woods and out of sight.

“Weekly. His last visit bringing provisions was yesterday.”

“Our timing is good. Could you guide us there, please Lonie?”

The Nymph beckoned the pair who followed her through the woods upon a trail that opened before them and also closed behind them. They made swift progress unto they reached the stout building where Vessil dwelt.

“That’s a big cottage,” Balat observed in low tones.

“Certainly is,” Darras agreed.

“Vessil’s father was a wealthy mercenary captain who was part of the looting of Callande and used the fortune he stole to build this dwelling,” Lonie explained.

“And the father?” Darras asked.

“I suspect he was the first victim of the darkness within Vessil,” Lonie replied, showing the pair a diagram of the interior which she scored out in the earth.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Darras sighed. “Are any doors open?”

“I unlocked the back door, though a Goblin lurks near it in the hope of catching trespassers from front and rear, not that there have been any,” Lonie replied. “Vessil is seated in the main chamber with a scrying stone and the other two Goblins guard the doors to this chamber.”

“Does he come out to use the long drop?” Darras asked, indicating the privy.

“No, his father arranged for a pipe-way to the river that he flushes with well water.”

“A pity,” Darras shrugged. “Guess Balat and I will have to do it the hard way.”

“He is most paranoid,” Lonie admitted. “Nor can I tell what he says into the scrying stone as there is some sort of spell affecting sound that has me at bay.”

“Is the back door approach watched?”

“No, he trusts his guards to deal with any issues once inside.”

“OK, quick and dirty it is,” Darras sighed. “Follow me in, Balat, and have the cage ready to use.”

“Yes, Darras,” Balat replied nervously.

“Biggest danger will be the Goblin above the back door. If I can kill it quickly, the rest should be easier.”

“You’re going to let it drop on you?” a confused Balat asked.

“Sort of,” Darras chuckled, pulling on his mask. “Let’s go.”

The door was quite sturdy, though Darras was able to open it. He swiftly stepped inside and, using his better night vision, moved aside in, to Balat’s eyes, almost a blur. He grabbed the dropping Goblin and hurled it onto the doorframe, breaking its neck in the process.