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“What in chaos is taking them so long?” Arlade grunted. Boards of varying lengths and thicknesses were piling up around him and he had no way to bind them. It might be possible to use rope to tie them together – but it would take at least a day if not two to bind enough wood together to make decent shields. Rope was a poor choice for binding shields anyway; it tended to come apart at the most inopportune moments.
He grunted again and took a few steps to the mouth of the alley. Ducking his head around, he looked at the town hall and steeple. Neither had moved since he’d last looked, though the people inside had been busy filling and reinforcing the hole Qualan had torn in the side of the building. Distractedly, he rubbed his hand over his face, frowning at the rough whiskers. He’d done only a haphazard job at shaving this morning; too many other things to occupy his mind.
His face turned to a snarl as he once again looked at the whitewashed building where the townspeople were keeping him from his prey. Fucking, chaos-ridden, uneducated goat-fuckers. He had half a mind to let Qualan blow the chaos-damned thing apart. Mistakes, after all, happened.
Then he shook his head. His master would never be content with that explanation ... and his master would have the truth. For all he knew, she was scrying on him even now.
“Qualan,” he called without looking, his face slowly easing. He contented himself with the thought it would all be over soon. He’d take what he needed and perhaps spend a few hours – or a day or two – making the bastards pay. His lips twisted up into a smile at the thought.
But first, he’d need to take the building. Which required some kind of shielding for the Irregulars. Shielding he still hadn’t even started on.
“Yes, master?” Qualan responded from a few feet away. She had pulled the shadows around her, as was her way. It didn’t make her invisible – true invisibility was an impossibility, or so she’d been taught – it just served to make others not notice her. In the end, it was essentially the same.
Arlade jumped; he’d not heard the mage approach. “Dagah take you! Don’t do that!”
“Apologies, master,” Qualan apologized contritely. She smiled inwardly, however. She enjoyed making the bastard feel insecure.
He shook his head in disgust. He had a strange feeling the stupid cunt was doing it on purpose. “How long have the two I sent to the smithy been gone?”
Qualan thought a moment. “Nearly a full hour,” she said with some surprise. It shouldn’t have taken anywhere near so long.
“Something’s wrong,” Arlade huffed, grinding his teeth. “They should have returned ages ago.”
He strode purposefully back down the alley. He looked at two who were dumping a load of broken wood they’d collected. “Belim. Melique. Come here.”
He waited until the two reached him. “Hedleddy and Barent were sent to the smithy to get some nails. They seem to be taking their time about it. Go tell them to hurry up.”
“Yes, sir,” Melique responded with a nod. She and Kyd Belim took off at a trot towards the south.
He looked at the map he’d drawn the day before. It wasn’t terribly accurate but he hadn’t thought it needed to be.
There were only two main roads in Hasp. One ran east-west and the other north-south; both ran basically straight with only mild curves. The Town Hall was situated at the crossroads. The Red Guard had come in from the east, to take advantage of the rising sun. When their plans had gone to shit, they’d taken refuge in a small square about sixty yards east of the town hall, on the south side of the east-west road. The Blacksmith shop was somewhere south of the Town Hall, on the north-south road.
He looked up at the now familiar clatter of wood being added to a pile. He hesitated a moment, considering carefully before coming to a decision. “Norrid,” he called to the woman who was turning to get more wood.
At the sound of her name, Tilva Norrid turned back. She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard when she saw her master staring at her. She didn’t like Arlade, she never had. However, her man had died in one of the Empire’s many border skirmishes and the death benefit the Emperor had given her had not lasted long with three little mouths to feed. She’d eventually had to move in with her mother. So, when she’d overheard the offer of a silver a month to train to become a member of the Red Guard, she’d jumped at the chance. It had kept her children, still living with her mother, in food and clothing – and that’s all she could have hoped for.
She came closer and bowed before the man. “Yes, master?”
“Follow Belim and Melique - but at a distance,” Arlade instructed. “Don’t let them or anyone else see you. If anything should befall them, you are to return here immediately. Do not engage and do not get caught. I want a coherent report of all you see. Understand?”
“As you say, Master,” Tilva replied.
He watched her go for a moment before turning away.
“Anything?” Bremer called from what they’d dubbed the ‘waste corner’. The younger girl had a dark brown tack blanket wrapped around her waist as she went to the bathroom. The blanket had come from Jace Rivens, one of the few villagers who actually owned a horse; he owned five.
Actually, it had been Jace’s youngest son who’d brought the blanket. Bremer knew the young man was sweet on her – he’d often stop by the domen for no apparent reason – but she didn’t feel the same. At least, not for Goren Rivens. It was ironic but the one she did have feelings for didn’t have feelings for her.
“No movement,” Teran replied with a nervous sigh. She was wondering how such a day could be dawning so clear and bright. It would be far more appropriate for it to be thundering with pouring rain – or, at the least, cloudy and dismal. Most of her was happy for the clear skies, though; pouring rain would make it difficult to see and they needed every advantage they could get.
“One of them to the east sticks their head out for a moment or two but it isn’t enough to make a target,” she continued, trying to keep her voice even. “That one is down by the Weaver’s square but he or she might just be a decoy. We need to be vigilant in all directions.” She tried to keep her voice loose as she said a silent prayer. “Nothing further from the south – and no alarm I can see.”
She’d helplessly witnessed some of Yren’s fight. It was only parts and glimpses but it had made her feel so powerless. She wanted to scream and leap down to his rescue – but she couldn’t abandon these people; given the absence of Ranger Ellsworth and the other rangers, Sir Givens was looking to her and her arrows. She had breathed a trembling sigh of relief when it was over and Yren was still standing. She’d watched him go down and it looked like he vomited. Then, she’d watched her father help him move the bodies – it looked like two of them but she could have been mistaken. She’d reported it down to Sir Givens and he’d told her to remain vigilant and let him know if more Red Guard headed down towards her father and the man she loved.
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