They could smell the town before they could see it. It was nearly dusk, and the haze in the air was turning the horizon pink, accentuated further by the dull orange glow of fires, a false sunset masking the first, that had nearly sunk beyond the Sea of Squalls.
The road leading to town was littered with sundries and clothing, then heavier items like trunks and furniture as they got closer. Then full carts and wagons. Lastly, arrows and bolts, sticking out of the ground like feathered flora. Some found trees, some the sides of carts, and more than a few found bodies. Bodies of guardsmen some, but most found the backs of townsmen and their families as they fled from the invaders.
It would seem that the people of White Wind, who did not initially evacuate the town, felt that help was on the way, or that their goods were too valuable to leave behind. It did not matter.
The town was too small for a garrison from the capital, and the town guard was more than like hired swords employed by the sea town’s portlord, and funded by the local merchants and few nobles.
“Piss and blood,” Timette said, kicking at a smashed barrel that had fallen off a wagon in the flee. “I guess the race is over. We lost.” Either the battle this morning took a sight longer than it seemed, or the Mjardi ships are moving a little faster these days.
Sellswords liked money but they liked living a whole lot more. The guardsmen corpses strewn all over the road were either very loyal or very stupid. Not that there’s much of a difference.
“They must’ve thought aid was on the way.” Ruby said, from bent knee. He picked up a straw doll that the dead girl next to it dropped as a bolt had found the small of her back earlier that day. The big man tucked the doll under the dead child’s arm. He grunted angrily and stood back up, “Guess not.”
Sandi pulled a gold ring off a man’s index finger who was pinned to a tree with a bloody spear, “An’ what of it? You’re wasting your tears an’ temper for naught.” Sandi inspected the bronze bauble grimacing, and tossed it back to the corpse.
“These poor sods made their choice. Fools all. Well,” he glanced at the little body next to Rikk, “Perhaps not all.”

“You’re a heartless shite, you know that?” Jodfrey said, shaking his head and blowing out his mustache."
Beldan stared at the little girl as well. Not our fault. Not our fight. We stick to the plan. “We stick to the plan.”

“The plan?” Sandi laughed as he blew a tuft of straw-yellow hair from his eyes, “Now, no one doubts you to be a shrewd negotiator Beldan, but how much you reckon you can haggle from a corpse?” The archer hooked his foot under a dead guardsman and flipped him on his back, his patchwork mail thudding wetly on the ground. A bouquet of bolter spikes were buried to mid-shaft in his chest, straight through the poor man’s armor, “Are we meant to think our humble banker fought them off, quill in hand? Or is it more likely he buggered off, just like we should be doing.”
“Well, There’s only one way to find out. If we are to cut the girl loose-“

“The girl?” Sandi interrupted, sneering, “Rutting shite, Beldan, who cares about the girl? Toss her out the wagon once we leave this place on the horizon! Are you trying to tell me you’re sweet on her, or something? A fine cutlet of meat, I’ll grant you, but we are going to walk into Undrii know’s what just to keep your peace of mind? We don’t even know if those steam belchers left anyone behind!” Sandi paced around the corpses and sighed. “If you ask me-”

“That’s just the thing, Sandi” Beldan interjected, his voice dangerously calm, “I didn’t ask you.” The big man took a step toward the archer and paused. His frame looming over him. The rest of the men froze and turned to their leader, “We have come an awful long way to leave this all behind with only a few copper coins jingling in our pockets. Who ever this banker is, he sent a rutting militia after us, so I figure he had as much chance as any other. If nothing else, he needs to answer for that. We have to see where this road leads.”
Sandi shrunk under Beldan’s smoldering gaze but recovered quickly, “I’m not fighting an army for this girl” Sandi frowned, ruefully.
“Nor will I ask you to.” Beldan replied. He clapped his hand down on the blonde man’s shoulder but the intensity in his eyes remained, “We will scout it out, and if it looks too hot, we will be on our way.” Sandi blew out a long sigh and his eyebrows acquiesced. A crooked smirk crept up Beldan’s cheek, “’Sides, when has Beldan’s Butchers ever been afraid of a good fight?”


They decided they would have to leave the cart and its cargo half a league back up the road, along with the twins and Happy Jacque to guard it.
Some of the cargo, however, traveled with them.
“Bound and gagged?” Sandi asked hopefully as he opened the door to the prison cart. It’s occupant glared at him and shot Beldan a look, awaiting his response.
“Not necessary,” Jodfrey answered first, “The lass isn’t a fool. She’s no more welcome in this smoldering graveyard than we are.”
Jodfrey held out a hand to the captive, which she slapped away, and hopped off the cart herself. She stumbled slightly, her legs being unused and cramped for several days now.
“Easy!” Jodfrey said, catching her arm to steady her.
She flinched, but did not pull away. “Now,” Jodfrey began, tipping his head to meet her gold-flecked hazel eyes, “What say we find your father and get you home?”
She looked past the armored old man to the glowing town in the distance. This is not home, she thought, and looked at the ground peppered with death. Red looked back at the old man, then Timette, Ruby, Illene, Sandi, and finally Beldan, who was busy examining a belt still holding a tunic in place for an unfortunate lifeless form.
“What makes all of you so sure he’s still here?” She asked, looking directly at Beldan.
“Or still breathing,” Sandi said, as he rummaged through the pockets of a dead merchant’s robes.
“Sandi, you shit!” Jodfrey and Rikk said in unison.
The girl seemed unconcerned by the comment, or at least hid it well.
“Regardless, we need you to help us navigate and find out.” Beldan said as he stood, dusting off his knees.
Red sniffed, straightening out her gown. “What makes you think I know this town? I live in Lairdcrest.” She proclaimed to the band’s leader, shrugging innocently.
Beldan smirked, and stepped closer to her. He reached into his black double-breasted coat and unsheathed a hidden dagger. The weapon was beautiful. Long and sleek. Unique, deep cobalt metal, etched with veiny layers, like waves on the sea. Acid-quenched frosteel. A closely guarded secret technique applied to a rare and difficult to work metal. Even rarer in the north. Illegal to own, in fact, if not claimed and registered with the local provincial magistrate. And seeing as it was, until very recently, her dagger, that was something she most definitely would claim to have done.
He approached her with the dagger, turning it in his hand, admiring the ancient stoutling scripture that was stamped into the blood channel, a language all but lost and forgotten. The girl swallowed hard and bristled as he came closer with the weapon, eyeing him suspiciously.
In a flash, the knife spun in his hand, end over end. Beldan caught the dagger by the blade between thumb and two fingers, and held the blade up in front of her face.
“We collected you on the Coastal Highway. Heading north. Six leagues south of Lairdcrest, within an hour’s ride of the Seabird Bay, which I imagine, one might find a small skiff to take you and your questionable sundries into the port via a moonlit sail.”
Slowly he presented the knife, grip first, to the girl, “This will not be a stroll through the garden. I want in and out, without waking a sleeping dragon. I want my men unharmed, you as well.”
She placed a hand on the grip of the dagger, and paused. The way he was still holding it, the tip of the blade within a few inches from the center of his torso, just below the chest plate. There would be no bone, little muscle. She only had to apply enough pressure to punch through the thick leather of his coat.
His eyes never left hers as he let go of the dagger and stepped closer. He stopped as the weapon tip bit into the black leather. Red winced when he leaned in, her jaw tightening, and she took a breath.
The sunset’s light was all but gone, and now only the glow of the town remained in the distance. His men winked out of sight, one by one, in their dark leathers and blackiron mail; the blonde archer lingering for a moment with a sour look on his face until he too disappeared down the lane. All that shone in the dark, was an ivory hand, holding a length of razor-sharp death. The runes upon the blade tricked the eyes and seemed to gleam a deep purple color in the twilight. Beldan looked up and saw stars began to twinkle. The moon was out as well. A quarter moon. No moon would have been better.
She closed her eyes, and sighed, shoulders slumping and knife falling to her side. It was folly, she realized. If I kill him, there will be little to stop the rest of these rogues from killing her or carting her off to a fate far worse.
She opened her eyes, shimmering with tears. “So, is this how you domesticated the rest of your wolves?” She seethed at him, her voice just above a whisper.
A smile glittered in his eyes, “Wolves they are, but I own no one. If you travel with me, then you do so as any beast. Assured of mutual interest. I will see that you are delivered in perfect health, to whomever and whenever that may be. You see that?” He nodded to the dagger still clutched in her hand, “Think of it as a symbol of good faith. I would not have you enter this town unarmed and unwilling. And as it so happens, we require your assistance. I think you know this town very well. You will be our navigator. We need the quickest and, more importantly, the subtlest route. We prefer dark alleys to courtyards.
He handed over the sheath then, and she thought of remarking that it was her property in the first place, and hardly a favor, but held her tongue. She belted the sheath and slid the knife into place, adjusting the weapon at her hip. She would be calm, patient, and learn as much as she could from her captor and his team. Perhaps, when this is all over and they’ve all said their goodbyes, she would seek him out. Alone on the road, or sleeping soundly in a bed at an inn, she would find Beldan Hide the rogue, the savage, the murderer, and give back the dagger. That thought made her smile briefly.

Beldan winked at her, satisfied, and turned to the twins and Jacque, “We’ll be back lads. No fires, and no chatter. ‘Specially you Dinny!”
The quiet twin mouthed a less-than-endearing response and waived a single finger goodbye. Beldan failed to notice as Red and him disappeared down the dark road speedily towards the distant town.

[thanks for reading! stay tuned for part 7. feedback appreciated]
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