Chapter Nineteen - An Ambush

  53rd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era

  Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex

  The little village by the shore had changed little in the day that they'd been absent. Perhaps that was the fog, obscuring any deterioration, or perhaps the town didn't have any further to sink from the abandoned ruin it already was, but in any case, Veridian didn't notice anything strange as they stalked along the piers.

  "Left," Carnel said. "We find lord, kill them."

  Viridian paused, then shook her head. "No. Right." she pointed. "Blacksmith. I want to... talk to Tomas. I brought food."

  "That is why you brought food?" Lazur asked.

  They had been together the entire time they were on the Gentle Tidings, so of course Lazur had noticed her walking up to the ship's mess and stealing a few loaves of bread.

  "Yes," Viridian said. "He was nice." She reached down and touched the small light hanging by her side. It had a place on her belt now, where it could light her way if she opened it in a time of need.

  "Waste of time," Carnel said.

  Viridian suspected that the puppet might be right. Being kind didn't often result in good things happening in return, but... "Please?" she said.

  "Might give us weapons," Lazur said. "If we save him, he will be able to smith for us later."

  "Hmm," Carnel said. "Fine."

  Viridian led the way, walking with her pike held by her side and her eyes clicking as she scanned the area ahead of them. They weren't ambushed by a dog, this time, but she almost wished they were.

  The corpse of the first dog they had killed was laying in the middle of the street. Its sides had been ripped open, and its insides eaten. She wished that it had been some other dogs, or carrion birds that had done it, but there were bloody handprints on the ground around the dog.

  They made it to the corner where they'd stuffed the bodies of a few peasants. They were missing now. So, someone had cleaned at least that much.

  They managed to make it out of the town without incident, and walked over to the smithy tucked into the hills. It was still very early, the sun only recently risen, so she wasn't surprised to see no smoke coming from the smithy, and yet... it bothered her all the same.

  "Hello?" she called out as she arrived at the front. Tomas wasn't behind the anvil, or anywhere within.

  Stepping past the entrance, she carefully made her way to the door of the house proper and knocked.

  "Hello?" she asked, louder this time.

  There was only a faint moan in reply.

  Reaching down, she twisted the handle and discovered it unlocked.

  The inside of Tomas's shack was dimly lit, with only slivers of morning light filtering through the warped wooden slats of the walls. She hesitated at the threshold, fingers tightening around her pike.

  Lazur stepped up behind her and scanned the room. "Not good," she said.

  Carnel huffed. "If dead, we leave."

  Viridian clicked her eyes across the room, scanning for movement. The forge was cold, the tools left in disarray, as though abandoned mid-use. Metal shavings dusted the ground, but they were dulled by a darker stain smeared along the floorboards, leading toward the back of the shack.

  The moan came again.

  Carnel followed the sound first, stepping into the next room. Viridian followed quickly, her unease growing. The small living space was sparse; little more than a cot pushed against the far wall, a battered chest at its foot, and a rickety table where a few plates sat. A small pantry was tucked into the corner next to an iron stove. The pantry was noticeably empty.

  Tomas lay in his cot, breathing hard. His skin was pallid, his face twisted in pain. Sweat drenched his clothes. "Who... who is it?" he asked. "The lord has taken more from me. I cannot spare any more, even if Aurynth the Golden itself were to beg it of me."

  "It's me," she said. "Viridian."

  A long silence followed, then a slow exhale. "Ah... the girl."

  She stepped closer, scanning his face. His blindfold was still in place, but his breathing was uneven, shallow. The tremor in his limbs was subtle, but she saw it, the way his fingers curled involuntarily.

  "You're sick," she said.

  A dry chuckle escaped him. "No, child. I am starving. The lord mayor has decreed that to survive the loss of this season's harvest and to repay the taxman when he comes, we are to tighten our belts. I thought I'd given enough, but they found more to take. Next, it might be me that's taken, added to that pile of corpses and wishes in the town square."

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  Viridian shifted, slowly removing her pack. She set it on the floor, then opened the flap on the top. Within were a half-dozen glass bottles, with cork stoppers at their top and long strings wrapped around their necks.

  She fished within, then returned with a loaf of bread. It was hard, even she could tell, but it was bread, and while it had a few weevils, it wasn't rotten. "Here," she said. "It's food."

  She reached down and opened Tomas's hand, then placed the loaf within his grasp.

  "Oh," he said. He took the bread, but he also grabbed her hand in his. His grip was solid, even as weak as he was. His fingers ran over hers, and she saw his brow knit. "Wooden girl," he said. "Thank you."

  "Repay us later," Carnel said.

  Viridian turned to stare at the puppet, but Tomas replied before she could rebuke her. "I will. Thank you."

  Eventually she nodded and pulled her hand back. Tomas was weak but alive, and that was enough for now. She could only hope that by the time they returned, he would be better.

  "Stay hidden," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Eat slow."

  Tomas chuckled softly. "Aye, I know better than to gorge. Besides… there's no rush. It's not like I have much else to do."

  Viridian stood, stepping back. Carnel had already turned toward the door, clearly ready to move on. Lazur lingered a moment longer, eyes flicking toward the forge, then to Tomas.

  "No work?" Lazur asked.

  Tomas shook his head. "No metal left worth forging. And even if there was… no one to buy my labour. Just prayers and promises now."

  Lazur hummed in thought. "If we win, you will work again."

  Tomas smiled at that. "That so? Well, you know where to find me." He clutched the bread a little tighter. "Be careful, wooden girl."

  Viridian nodded once before following the others out into the morning light. She didn't look back.

  The fog had lifted slightly, revealing more of the ruined town.

  "Now left?" Carnel asked.

  Viridian took a slow breath, then nodded. "Left."

  They moved in formation, with Carnel at the front, Lazur at the rear, Viridian in the center. The mist clung to the streets of the ruined village, swirling around the empty homes and sagging rooftops like ghostly fingers.

  The town square lay ahead. Even through the thickening fog, Viridian could see the pile of corpses. It was larger than when they had last seen it by a body or three. Had those they killed been added to the heap?

  She clicked her eyes, scanning the area. No movement. No sound beyond the distant lap of waves against the shore.

  "Too quiet," Carnel muttered. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword.

  Viridian nodded. There should have been something. Dogs sniffing for scraps, birds picking at the remains. Instead, only the fog moved.

  Lazur tilted her head. "Wait," she whispered. "We hide and prepare. Then ambush. Greater success that way."

  Viridian froze. So did Carnel.

  Lazur gestured toward a half-collapsed building near the edge of the square. A shop, once. The wooden beams had given way in places, and the doorway sagged inward. But it was still standing.

  She figured it would do.

  The shop had sold fishing equipment and clothes, and there were plenty of shelves that had once held food and preserves, but they'd been emptied out. Viridian crouched behind the remains of a counter, peering through a shattered window facing the square.

  "Prepare," Lazur said, then there was a faint clink as she removed her backpack and set it down. A few moments later, the puppet was surrounded by a half-circle of fragile glass bottles. She held one of them, weighing it, then raised a firemaker in her other hand.

  It was a small device. When a lever on its side was pulled down, it would open a hole at the front from which a small flame escaped.

  All they needed to do was light the fuse cords around the bottles, then toss them. The alchemist promised it would help, and she was inclined to believe him.

  But first, they needed to wait.

  ***