The Mournsong Gate
The
Mournsong Gate.
The oldest known relic from a time
before even the oldest of dwarves, or their fathers before them,
could remember. It stood as the only passage way from the kingdom to
the hellish wasteland to the extreme south.
Nestled
between the Everwinter Mountains on either side, the fortress was
virtually impregnable to attack. Its hundred foot high walls
intimidated even the guards patrolling the perimeter of the
structure. The walls themselves were made of stone infused with
mithril, the strongest metal known to any race, said to be a gift
from the gods of old.
Adjacent to the gate itself
was the remainder of the daunting structure. Guard towers dotted
nearly every wall, passage ways were narrow so only three men could
walk side by side. The quarters for the Gate Guards were also
connected to the fortress, enough housing for more than 10,000 men.
To nearly any enemy those defenses would appear too
overwhelming an obstacle to overcome. More often than not the famous
Gate Guard were left to their endless training. The only sound of
battle came from the sparring yard. Today though, the sound of battle
came from the wall.
The Mournsong Gate was under
attack.
Teryk Nightsaber, Captain of the Guard and
favored nephew of the king, strode confidently among his men. He had
drilled them in this very scenario for months.
"Fire!" He commanded to his archers. He watched as the
contingent of archers loosed their volleys into the oncoming enemy to
devastating effect. Captain Nightsaber almost pitied the attackers as
he gave the damning command "Fire at will."
As one the contingent of archers, nearly a thousand strong, loosed
volley after volley into the oncoming beasts at the bottom of the
wall.
"You steal the fun from my soldiers!"
Came a call from the Teryk's left. He turned to see his trusted
lieutenant approaching.
Teryk saluted his
subordinate and then clasped the man on his shoulder. "I do
apologize my friend." He started sarcastically "But it
seems as though our enemy forgot to bring their ladders!" The
two men shared a hearty laugh until an alarmed shout from the lower
wall caught their attention.
As the men approached
the wall they saw the error of their joke. The Scourge didn't need
ladders.
Captain Nightsaber looked over the lower
wall to see the creatures from his nightmares scaling the walls as if
the structure was flat land. As the terrifying monsters got nearer
Teryk could see what it was his men faced this day.
The Scourge were the beasts from legend. Black as the darkest night
the creatures seemed out of place in the brightness of the day. The
ends of each of the monster’s limbs ended in long, razor sharp
claws that could easily rip a man apart. The Scourge needed no armor,
their skin was a hard as steel. At the top of the armored body came
the creature's long neck that held the creature's true weapon. With
red glowing eyes and teeth that were formed into a perpetual smile
that spoke of death, the Scourge were complete warriors. The
unthinking beasts only lived to kill and the whole world was their
enemy.
"W-what are we to do?" The younger,
less experienced, officer asked.
"Prepare the
ballistae." Teryk ordered. "With flaming pitch. Let us see
how these beasts like the fire."
The lieutenant
nearly sprinted away to the ballistae team. The pinnacle of the
Mournsong Gate's defenses, the powerful ballistae could rain
destruction upon the most sturdy of siege engines, so Captain
Nightsaber could only imagine what they would do to the massing horde
below.
The Captain of the Gate Guard peered once
again at the oncoming horde still scaling the massive walls. Teryk
had never seen such an enemy. His men began to get into their proper
defensive positions as they prepared for close melee. Captain Teryk
Nightsaber wondered if his men, nearly two thousand strong, would be
ready for these creatures.
A shout from the
ballistae team caught the man's attention. Captain Nightsaber raised
his hand high and gave the command. "Fire all!
Huge flaming stones from the ten ballistae careened into the oncoming
monster to devastating effect. The huge stones crushed many of the
Scourge flat, much to the relief of all the Gate Guards. Teryk
noticed however, that the fire from the stones did not seem to affect
the creatures at all.
Despite the devastation, the
creatures continued to come one, seemingly oblivious to their
drastically thinned ranks. Captain Teryk Nightsaber raised his arm
one more time and gave the command to his archers to fire. This time
the monsters were so close that the archers didn't even have to aim.
As the monsters crested the high walls of the Mournsong Gate, those
in front were met with the archer's volley, sweeping many from the
wall.
Even though the ranks of the monsters were
deeply depleted they still came on with savagery Teryk would expect
from such hideous looking creatures. Several of the Gate Guards
hesitated at the spectacle of the Scourge, and paid dearly for their
terror. What few Scourge remained tore into the ranks of the humans
with no fear.
Captain Nightsaber winced as he heard
the dying cries of several of his men. Despite his trepidation he was
seasoned enough to bring his men into an acceptable defensive
formation. The sound from the steel ringing against almost diamond
hard skin on the Scourge resounded through the air. Screams of death
came from all along the wall as more and more of the monsters crested
the top and joined the battle.
Teryk's lieutenant
ran over, his face badly torn from a recent struggle with one of the
Scourge, and despite the man's obvious pain he managed a slight
smile. "The wall has been won in many places, sir." The
haggard man reported "It seems that the ballistae bombardment
did the trick. Thank the gods."
Another scream
sounded from nearby drawing the two men's attention to a nearby
battle. Teryk turned his head just in time to see one of his men
being held aloft in the air, impaled on one of the many long claws on
one of the Scourge's hand. Several men shouted as they attacked the
creature, trying desperately to get to their comrade. The creature
shrieked as the Guards slashed and stabbed at it, and soon the
monster began to succumb to the beating. Suddenly the monster jumped
up and hurled itself backwards in an apparent attempt to get away
from the humans. Unfortunately for the doomed creature and the dying
guardsman the monster jumped to far back and stumbled right off the
wall. The remaining guards watched helplessly as their fellow guard
and friend tumbled to his death, screaming the entire way, until he
finally came to an abrupt landing.
Captain Teryk
watched it all with profound sadness. As he surveyed to battle he
realized that indeed his men would win the day but the Scourge, as
depleted as their numbers were, still bit deeply into his ranks.
The victorious Gate Guardsmen cheered as the last of the
terrible monsters were thrown from the wall but the Teryk Nightsaber,
the sound seemed awfully hollow to him, and the magnificent walls of
the Mournsong Gate seemed all to blood red. He looked off in the
distance at the wasteland that lay just beyond the fortress, at an
enemy he could not see, but knew was preparing for another assault.
He could only hope that reinforcements would arrive in time.
Prelude
They
had thought him dead. After all, there was no way anyone could have
survived the disaster that had befallen that doomed little town. A
group of merciless bandits happened upon the small village that was
home to many families, and to the family of Clayton Doubtfeather. The
invaders had spared no home from the torch in the raid. Whole
families were slaughtered, those who didn't fall to a blade burned to
death.
Clayton Doubtfeather remembered that day
vividly. He spent many sleepless nights with the memory of the
fateful day. He remembered the look on his mother’s face when the
blade pierced her chest. Never would he forget the moment when the
last bit of life left her tear streamed eyes. Only Clayton's brother,
Lynden, stood firm against the bandit’s relentless slaughter. The
young boy could see the fire in his brothers' eyes as he tried
desperately to defend his family. Despite the fierce warrior's
courageous stand the numbers proved to be too overwhelming, and the
cruel tip of a sword found its way into Lynden's back. Still, the
young warrior fought on, until weariness from battle and wound
finally ground down the young man's stamina. As his guard slipped the
bandits finally managed to bring the brave man down. Fear turned to
rage as Clayton watched his beloved brother die. Clayton charged at
the nearest bandit, tried to fight back, but he was a mere child at
the time and one of the raiders ended the boys rage with a club to
the back of the child's head. Clayton Doubtfeather slipped into
unconsciousness as every man, woman, and child entered the realm of
death.
Clayton awoke to the most gruesome scene that
would forever haunt his every dream. Snow had started to fall on the
little town that used to be his home. The pure white of the snow was
a stark contrast to the blood red that was then freezing along the
sides of the corpses that were his friends and family. Clayton felt a
knot start to form in his stomach and start to rise into his throat
as he continued to observe slaughter. He turned to observe a partly
snow covered body, obviously a child, being propped up on its side by
a crude spear. With shaky hands he gently brushed the snow from the
body's face to see the frozen lifeless eyes of his youngest cousin
staring back at him. With a scream of surprise Clayton jumped back
only to trip on yet another body. He looked up dreading who he would
recognize and saw the mask of agony that was frozen on his mothers'
face. Clayton Doubtfeather sat quietly for hours, silent sobs racking
his body.
He spent the next several days crying
over the bodies of nearly 100 people that used to live in the village
that was his childhood home. Even worse for Clayton, many were never
found at all, including the body of his brother whom he looked up to
from his earliest days. The only thing that he had found of his dear
brother was his prized weapons, those magnificent diamond edged twin
daggers. Clayton picked the weapons up reverently and clutched them
tightly against his chest, as if they were the embodiment of his lost
brother. That above all else, not being able to say goodbye to his
beloved brother, drove Clayton to near madness.
Clayton spent the next several days after that traumatic even
wandering aimlessly across the land, hardly stopping to sleep and not
eating at all. He was not aware of how many days he had been
wondering when he was found by Derek Lawson, the man that would
become his mentor and dearest friend in the entire world.
* * *
Those
first few months living with Derek proved to be the most difficult to
Clayton Doubtfeather. The man he hardly knew was his guardian,
teacher, and disciplinarian. The last of which caused many rifts
between the two. Many circumstances could have caused the two to
never bond but fate intervened.
One day while
hunting Clayton was cornered by a great wolf, having nothing but his
brother's twin daggers to defend himself. Clayton had never been
taught in the ways of battle but he was naturally adept at wielding
the weapons. As the wolf came on the young boy was able to keep the
beast at bay for a long while. Finally the larger creature was able
to bring the smaller human boy to the ground. Clayton was sure he was
going to die before Derek Lawson came to his rescue. The older man
fearlessly tackled the great wolf and fought the creature to a
stalemate with his bare hands.
Clayton tossed his
savior one of his blades and Derek was able to take the beast in the
throat with one of the impossibly sharp daggers. From that point on
Clayton had a new found respect for his guardian and Derek too found
himself admiring the young boy, for not once in the event with the
wolf, had the young Clayton called for help.
Derek
spent the next several years teaching Clayton the ways of fighting,
self discipline, and survival training. The caring Derek Lawson even
paid for a private combat instructor to come to the town and guide
the boy in ways Derek could not.
Because of his
foresight Derek Lawson had brought about the possibility of perhaps
one of the kingdom's greatest heroes. Clayton for his part would
spend the rest of his life repaying a debt to his dearest friend, and
trying to preserve the honor of his slain family.
I Worth the risk
Why
become a bounty hunter? The question had been asked many times before
and Clayton Doubtfeather's answer was always the same. The money's
good, the hours are flexible, and it always makes for a great tale to
tell at the tavern. Like most professions however, there are always
downsides. Such as the dilemma Clayton now found himself in.
When he saw the wanted poster and took the job thinking it
would be easy money, Clayton Doubtfeather never imagined he would
find himself in such a situation. His partner Derek Lawson, his best
friend and mentor who was now approaching his later years in life,
lay unconscious on the far end of the cave the target had been using
as a lair. Three thugs including Jensin "Cut Throat"
Milardo, the notorious bandit and murderer, standing between Clayton
and any possible escape.
Things had not gone to
plan.
Clayton brushed aside a strand of his long
dark hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, never letting go of
the diamond-edged twin daggers he held in his hands. He keenly felt
the fresh bruise that he had received in the first attempt to take
down the trio. He squared up to his opponents never taking his eyes
off the brute Jensin. Clayton's mind raced as he tried to come up
with a plan that would get him and Derek out of this mess with their
lives.
Luckily for Clayton, Jensin in his complete
confidence did not order his two men to attack straight away.
"Clayton Doubtfeather." Jensin Milardo laughed "How
nice o' you to join us. If ye'd of sent warning we'd would of
prepared a feast!" The three bad men shared a laugh at the
bounty hunter's expense, not fearing Clayton's reputation in the
least.
"You're forgiven." Clayton quickly
mused, forcing a disarming smile. "Next time however, I expect a
fine table and finer women. Until next time then, Ta."
Clayton Doubtfeather knew well that Jensin and his goons were
not about to let him waltz out of this overwhelming predicament, but
he made as if to leave anyway.
"Not so fast Mr.
Doubtfeather." Jensin growled, spitting the surname "See,
me friend here don't take too kindly to uninvited guest." He
continued the game as he slapped his nearest man on the shoulder. "He
hates it so much, he rips them apart!" He snarled.
"Forgive me master, uh, random... hired thug." Clayton
said, wanting to keep up the blather "I meant no intrusion--"
"Ye ambushed us!" The thug interrupted.
"True enough." Clayton continued. "But you almost
killed my friend. Anyways, I offer you all this one chance, and one
only, surrender now or prepare to visit your chosen god in person in
the realm of death."
Clayton Doubtfeather put
his arms out wide, still holding his twin daggers, and his wide smile
was a stark contrast to the hanging jaws of the three men standing
between him and freedom. The ridiculousness of the conversation was
too much and Clayton and Jensin Milardo couldn't help but laugh. The
two dim-witted thugs however, shifted nervously in their boots,
clutching their weapons tightly, unsure of their unpredictable
boss.
"Ye're as stupid as ye look boy!"
Jensin told the bounty hunter, pointing a finger his way.
Clayton sensed his time was nearing its end, so he played his
last hand. "Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that you are now
under arrest for crimes against the crown. You are now ordered to
drop your weapons, make an orderly line, and march yourselves to
jail."
"Who are you?" one of the
dumbfounded thugs asked, unable to contain himself anymore.
"Gents." Jensin Milardo said before the bounty
hunter could answer. "Ye have just met Clayton Doubtfeather,
bounty hunter extraordinaire."
If Clayton was
thankful for Jensin's kind introduction, his target's next words took
the smile from his face.
"Kill him."
Jensin said evenly.
"Wait!" Clayton cried.
So forcefully did he yell, and with the unusual conversation up to
now, the two hired thugs did just that, thinking more conversation
was to follow.
The slight pause was just long enough
for Clayton Doubtfeather to hurl one of his diamond-edged twin
daggers into the gut of the nearest thug, sending the poor man
screaming in agony to the sandy cave floor. The remaining thug stared
in angry disbelieve as he watched his friend pull the dagger from his
gut, inadvertently allowing his precious life-blood to spill onto the
dirty cave floor.
"Im'a kill you!" The
thug screamed at Clayton, turning his full attention to the bounty
hunter.
With a feral roar he charged the intruding
man, attacking with a sidelong sweep at Clayton's shoulder. Clayton
Doubtfeather easily sidestepped the clumsy blow, and even scored a
minor hit with his remaining dagger on the thug's weapon shoulder,
leaving a long gash. The wounded man looked at the fresh blood and
roared anew. He came at Clayton with another side swipe, followed by
a diagonal cut from his long sword.
Neither blow
came close to hitting the nimble Clayton Doubtfeather. The bounty
hunter spun behind the clumsy attacks and kicked at the thug's
exposed back, sending him face first into the cave wall. The thug
lashed out with a back handed attack, earning another long gash
across his forearm for his troubles. The two opponents squared off
with each other. The unskilled thug wounded and laboring for breath,
and Clayton standing at ease, not impressed at all with his attacker.
Jensin Milardo watched it all with amusement, it
seemed as though he wasn't going to have to split his most recent
booty with his hired man after all. "What're ye doin' ye dog?"
Jensin screamed at the man. "Kill him and be done with it!"
Clayton wasn't sure which person Jensin was talking to, he was
just glad the huge man wasn't involving himself in this fight.
Spurred on by his boss's command, the thug yelled indignantly
and began his attack again, coming at Clayton with the same slow side
sweeping cut with his long sword. Clayton easily danced away, this
time not bothering to counter, instead reaching his free hand behind
his back to his hidden throwing dagger. The over matched thug leveled
his sword at Clayton and charged at the man as if to skewer him in a
last desperate effort. His cry sounded appropriately to Clayton to be
a scream of death.
Clayton Doubtfeather slashed
across with his twin dagger, sending the thug's sword out wide and
brought his left hand, the hand holding the throwing dagger, in-line
with the still oncoming man's gut. As the hired goon impaled himself
on the dagger, Clayton angled his thrust towards the foolish man's
heart.
The thug seemed as though he would fall if
not for Clayton still holding the dagger in place in the dying man's
heart. The thug turned his bewildered face and met with his killers
eyes. Clayton whispered an apology to the man and allowed the dying
man to fall to the floor. The skilled bounty hunter watched as the
last wisps of life left the thug. He felt the slightest twinge of
regret as the hired strong-arm lay very still.
Clayton Doubtfeather was brought from his contemplation by clapping
coming from near the entrance to the cave. "Thank ye Mr.
Doubtfeather." the cruel Jensin Milardo said. "Ye saved me
from havin' to pay these guys."
"By the
goodly gods your accent annoys me." Clayton retorted. "I
grow weary of this game. Surrender Jensin, and go peacefully."
The huge murderer laughed aloud until his gaze met the fierce
scowl that was Clayton Doubtfeather's expression.
"Not so cheery now, are ye lad?" Jensin honestly asked.
"Thought ye were quite the jokester."
"I
take no joy in killing fools." Clayton replied, taking no humor
in the recent events.
"Good thing I aint no
fool then."
"We shall see."
The two began to stalk each other, sizing one another up for
the coming fight. Clayton Doubtfeather could tell from the way Jensin
held his large hand axe that this would not be an easy fight. The
murderer was nearly twice as large as Clayton and was not nearly as
dimwitted as the two thugs he had hired.
"Goodbye.
Mr. Doubtfeather!" Jensin Milardo spat the surname again as he
charged at Clayton, slicing across with this cruel hand axe. The
sheer speed of the attack caught Clayton off guard and forced the
bounty hunter to throw his shoulders backwards. He tried to kick out
at the larger man but Jensin's responding back hand glanced Clayton's
shoulder, sending the smaller man sailing across the cave.
Clayton Doubtfeather went into a roll and landed back on his
feet. The brute killer's strength and speed surprised him, he
couldn't begin to think of a strategy to bring down the huge man.
Clayton looked down to his twin dagger and throwing knife, they
seemed pitiful weapons indeed compared to the impressive axe Jensin
wielded.
A roar from Jensin brought the bounty
hunter from his thoughts and it was all he could do from staying a
step ahead of the deceptively quick attacks. Clayton, determined to
stand firm, parried one of those strong attacks with his twin dagger,
sending shocks of sheer agony down the smaller man's arm. Clayton
inadvertently took his eyes off Jensin as he reflexively dropped the
dagger he parried with, receiving a hard kick to the chest, sending
him, once again, sailing across the cave.
Clayton
Doubtfeather gasped for breath as he realized he landed next to his
still unconscious companion. Derek Lawson turned over and Clayton
thought his friend was rising to his aid. His was a mix of horror and
disappointment as snores began to sound from his partner!
"Damn your mother." Clayton mumbled as his staggered
to his feet. Jensin was beginning to stalk over and Clayton realized
he might have to abandon his friend.
"I'm
disappointed in ye lad." Jensin said "I thought ye'd be
tougher than this." The huge brute almost sighed as he raised
his axe, thinking to finish the smaller man off.
Clayton quickly rolled to the side of the powerful attack, scooping
up some dirt from the floor as he did and coming up on the other side
of Jensin, forcing the larger man's back to Derek. As the two faced
each other once more Clayton Doubtfeather threw the dirt onto Jensin
in an attempt to blind the man. Unfortunately Jensin was so large the
dirt barely reached the huge man's chin.
Time seemed
to stand still for an instant as Jensin stared incredulously at
Clayton.
"Are ye daft?" Jensin asked
dumbfounded.
Clayton could only shrug stupidly and
barely was able to roll backwards from a sweeping strike from Jensin.
"I'll kill ye for that!" Jensin roared.
Clayton backed to the rear wall of the cave, running out of room to
retreat.
"Ye got nowhere's to run now boy!"
Jensin said in all confidence, and truly Clayton could not deny the
claim. The huge murderer and notorious bandit raised his axe for the
final blow. Clayton had nowhere to run and could not hope to block
another blow from the powerful Jensin Milardo.
The
sound of stone against skull resounded throughout the cave as
blackness overtook Jensin's sight. The huge killer fell on his face
allowing for Clayton to see his savior. Derek Lawson managed a half
grimace - half smile as he casually tossed the rock he had used on
Jensin from his hands and fixed Clayton Doubtfeather with a superior
look.
"You’re lucky I knew your mother."
Derek laughed at him.
"Damn your mother's
mother." Was all that Clayton would reply, falling to a sitting
position and letting out a sigh of absolute relief.
II R&R Rewards and Relaxation
The
journey back to Shropshire, Derek Lawson's hometown, was three days
walking distance from the Coldridge Mountains where Jensin Milardo
had been captured, made all the longer by the constant resistance by
Jensin himself. Even still, the two bounty hunters with their prize
in tow, made the southbound journey in good time with little trouble.
Despite the steady pace, when the gentle rising
smoke from the many chimneys of the town, made a sweet sight for sore
eyes for the two adventurers. They prepared what should be their
final camp before making the gates of the town the next day.
Derek Lawson grunted as he came to rest next to Clayton. "The
cold wind be unkind to me old bones." Derek lamented to his
companion.
Clayton smiled as he regarded his aging
friend. He had never noticed how much gray had worked its way into
Derek's beard, his older friend’s hair having fallen out years ago.
Despite his graying appearance, Derek was still in good shape for a
middle aged man, his fine traveling clothes complimenting his
athletic physique.
"We'll be in warm beds come
tomorrow night." Clayton assured his friend. "As soon as we
drop our friend here off to the town jail." He went on, loud
enough for Jensin Milardo to hear, who had been tied to a nearby
tree.
"Ye'll regret this boy!" Jensin
warned Clayton for the hundredth time. "They won't ever find yer
body!"
The two bounty hunters shared a chuckle
at their prisoner]s plight. They had heard the same curses from
dozens of men they had tracked and captured over the years. Despite a
few close calls neither man gave credence to the murderers' calls.
Derek's laughter slowly gave way to longing as the older man
began to stare at the white clouds which were floating lazily
overhead. "Not sure how many adventures I got in me old
bones."
Clayton Doubtfeather was struck by the
words as hard as any club could have struck him. Derek Lawson had
been his friend and mentor since Clayton had stumbled his way through
Shropshire more than a decade ago. Clayton was but a wayside youth at
the time, still keenly feeling the loss of his family to an orc raid.
Derek had taken him in and taught him the way of things. Clayton had
never considered continuing on without his partner.
"You still have some life left my friend." Clayton
responded to Derek at last. "I am not ready to be without my
mentor as of yet."
The two companions shared a
long look, holding each other in their stares. A smile spread across
Derek's face and Clayton couldn't help but to respond in kind. It
struck Clayton how similar the two looked, almost as a son taking
after his father. Clayton had long dark hair and was clean shaven,
but Clayton's fine traveling clothes and leather armor complimented
his physique much like Derek's.
A noise from the
forest had both men jumping to the ready.
Clayton
held a throwing dagger in each hand and Derek, just a step slower,
readied his short bow. The two scanned the tree line and saw a
wondering deer scamper at the sight of the two men's camp.
Clayton glanced over at his friend and laughed. "I told
you still had some life let in you!" Clayton said.
Derek's laugh came from deep in his belly. "Nearly had a heart
attack!"
The two men carried on their
conversation long into the night, sharing good food and good tales in
front of a campfire. surely all seemed right in Clayton
Doubtfeather’s world.
* * *
A
snapping twig brought Clayton from his slumber. He silently berated
himself for falling asleep on his watch as panic nearly overtook him.
He was quickly relieved as he glanced over to Jensin Milardo and saw
the prisoner was still there. The sound of rhythmic snoring assured
Clayton that Derek was also in the camp.
The bounty
hunter blinked away the bleariness from his eyes and observed his
surroundings. A fog had begun to envelope the wooded area, not
unusual for this time for year. Clayton peered through the haze
towards the sound of the snapping twig and started towards the noise.
Clayton's enchanted boots even covered the sounds of crunching
leaves. The bounty hunter had a love for magical items, almost all of
Clayton's pockets held some kind of magical item, very helpful to a
hard working bounty hunter. Even Clayton's trademark wide brimmed hat
was suspected of having some magic about it.
Supremely confident in his stealth, Clayton Doubtfeather was
completely caught off guard when the blade of a sword came screaming
towards his face.
It took all Clayton's agility to
barely throw his shoulders back and not have his face cleaved in
half, still getting nicked on the nose for his troubles and sending
his hat flying from his head. The bounty hunter tried to draw his
twin daggers but was forced to dodge the blade again, rolling to his
left, trying to find some shelter behind a thin birr tree.
Clayton peered through the thick haze in the wood to try and
find his attacker. His surprise did not relent when he saw a elf,
wearing the colors of the King, charging fast and wielding that
wicked blade. Why would a soldier be trying to kill him?
"You will die thief!" The elven guard screamed at him,
bringing that horrible blade slashing across with surprising speed.
Finally able to draw his daggers, Clayton managed to parry the
attack and slip once again behind a tree.
"There
has been a misunderstanding." Clayton tried to explain, but the
guard was not wasn’t paying him any heed.
"None
of your lies, thief!" The elf denied him. The guard put his
sword through a dazzling attack routine that had Clayton struggling
to keep up. The sound of metal against metal resounded through the
cool night air while to two combatants fought.
Clayton slashed across with his dagger, forcing the elf's blade low,
and stabbed high thinking the elf could not possibly parry both
attacks.
Clayton Doubtfeather was right. The elven
guard was good, but couldn't possible block both of Clayton's quick
attacks.
Instead of blocking, the elf kicked out
with amazing dexterity, connecting solidly with Clayton's rib cage,
blasting the breath from his lungs. Clayton somehow managed to parry
the next of the elf's attacks but found an armored backhand
connecting with his jaw slamming him into a thick oak tree. Knowing
the death blow was to come, but hardly believing it, Clayton forced
his eyes to meet the elf's. Let the fool guard see the light leave
his eyes as he killed an innocent man, Clayton thought.
If he was hoping to see some regret from his opponent Clayton was
sorely disappointed, for all he saw was fury and the glee of
victory.
As the elf struck however, his weapons
could not get close to the defeated bounty hunter as surely as he had
struck solid stone. Clayton Doubtfeather used this opportunity to
roll out of the way and prepare a throw from one of his many hidden
throwing daggers. He found that the elf had made no move to stop him
however. Instead his opponent was kneeling before quite possibly the
most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Dressed in
white robes that seemed such a contrast against the dark background
of the misty haze in the wood, everything about the woman emanated
light. Her fare skin and long blonde hair only made her more
striking, and just by glancing into her deep blue eye Clayton
Doubtfeather, an infamous playboy, felt an overwhelming urge to
profess his every sin. She took the scene in, finally laying her warm
stare on the bounty hunter.
"Honestly Cyrial,
You must learn your manners." She said with a perfectly melodic
voice. Though she was speaking to her guard, her eyes never left
Clayton, leaving the bounty hunter all but paralyzed. "Pray tell
good man, What is your name?" She asked of Clayton.
"He is a thief, Milady." The Cyrial said to her, now rising
to his feet. "I caught him sneaking into the camp!"
"Is that so?" She asked, doubt clear in her voice.
"N-no, Milady." Clayton stammered. "My
companion and I are camped nearby, we are returning to Shropshire."
"A coincidence then." She replied, raising a hand to
silence her elven guard. "We have business in Shropshire as
well. May I know your name good traveler?"
Clayton Doubtfeather had never had problems talking with any woman he
had ever met, but now he found that he could hardly take a breath.
"I-I am Clayton Doubtfeather, Milady." He managed to say at
length.
Surprising everyone, it was Cyrial who knew
that name. "The bounty hunter? You’re the man who brought down
Klyndal Gareth?" He asked, speaking of a notorious assassin who
had been linked to over 50 murders, including a few minor barons.
"I had some help, but yes." Clayton answered coldly,
still a little bitter at the unwarranted attack, and indeed the elf
seemed more than a little impressed.
Truth be told
Klyndal had Clayton beaten during their fight, a fight which hadn't
taken very long, and only dumb luck saved the bounty hunter. Before
the assassin could finish him off and startled alley cat leaped at
his face, allowing Clayton the time needed to gain the upper hand and
finally subdue the assassin. Clayton Doubtfeather however, spun a
tale of bravery and skill whenever he told the tale. He also included
a dragon whenever telling the story, Clayton always added dragons to
his tales to impress the barmaids.
Cyrial gave a
slight gasp, obviously impressed, and Clayton couldn't help but swell
a little with pride, but only a little.
"Might
I know your name, Milady?" He asked of the woman. She was
obviously important, perhaps even royalty. Her elven guard stiffened
defensively but one look from the beautiful woman made him hold his
words.
"Forgive me for my rudeness good Clayton
Doubtfeather." She said with her melodic voice. "I am
Joanna Glensather, Countess of Trisfall."
That
had Clayton fall back a step. The Trisfall County was a minor region
of the kingdom, but meeting a Countess, a member of the kingdoms
parliament, was not an ordinary everyday occurrence. Trisfall was
more than a ten-day from this remote region of the kingdom, and
diplomats never come this far from the protective embrace of the
kingdoms more tamed lands. Clayton knew that something big must be in
the works for such a person to be camping in the woods, with only one
bodyguard.
"It seems a shame that none of the
higher powers of the kingdom ever visit the outlying settlements. I
seek only to show the people that we still care." Joanna
explained "Unfortunately, this not being my county, I am forced
to travel in relative secrecy."
The obvious
reference to exactly what he was thinking had Clayton on his heels
once again. Had she read his mind, he wondered? All Lady Glensather
offered was a disarming smile at his obvious discomfort.
"If your destination is truly Shropshire, perhaps we shall meet
again." She said at length. With another sweet smile she turned
to leave. Clayton wanted to say something, but a look from Joanna's
stern faced bodyguard had him thinking better of it.
"Perhaps indeed, Milady." Was all he said to the wind, long
after she had gone.
* * *
Clayton
Doubtfeather and Derek Lawson, with their captured prize in tow, made
the ironbound gates of Shropshire before midday on the following
morning. They were met by nearly half the town, cheering and throwing
flower petals, every one of them overjoyed at the capture of the
dangerous Jensin Milardo.
"All hail the
conquering heroes." Derek whispered to Clayton with a sly grin,
waving at a group of pretty female onlookers.
Clayton Doubtfeather smiled widely but before he could respond with a
similar remark he was greeted by the outstretched hand of the portly
and ever-smiling town Magistrate, who was flanked on either side by
two very large and broad shouldered guards.
"Clayton
Doubtfeather!" The jovial Magistrate stated. "Once again,
outstanding work!"
"Thank you Magistrate
Brooks." Clayton said politely grabbing the Magistrate’s
outstretched hand.
Despite the Magistrate’s
constant smiling facade, Clayton Doubtfeather never liked the man.
Magistrate Brooks had risen to prominence on the heels of his
predecessor, the former Magistrate James Loveless. Loveless had
nearly singlehandedly brought justice to the wild lands of the west,
bringing a handle on the long standing bandit problem, and putting
bounty's on the orcs and goblins of the area, a constant nuisance
throughout the kingdom but a real problem in the untamed western
regions. James had been found murdered in his home, allowing for the
well positioned assistant Magistrate Brooks to come forward. The
murderer was never caught.
"I trust my payment
is sorted?" Clayton asked.
"Clayton
Doubtfeather!" Magistrate Brooks said again, the smile never
leaving his face. "Always the forward one. One hundred gold
pieces, as we agreed. Your reward is waiting in my office, you will
be paid as soon as this dog is in his cell." He spat at the
bored looking Jensin Milardo.
With a nod from the
Magistrate the two large co-workers moved in on Jensin, shackling his
arms and legs, and hauled the prisoner away. Clayton and Magistrate
Brooks shared a cordial smile before the still-smiling Brooks
departed, leaving Clayton and Derek standing among their adoring
fans.
"I'm goin' to miss him." Derek said,
sarcasm dripping with each word.
"Yeah."
Clayton said absently, still watching the fat Brooks walk away.
Before the true meaning of his partner's words fully registered with
him Derek slapped him on the back.
"Meet ye at
the tavern for drinks lad!" Derek called to him. Clayton turned
just in time to see his elderly friend run off towards a trio of
scantily dressed women.
Clayton tipped his wide
brimmed hat to his fellow bounty hunters' back and started making his
own way to the tavern. It was time to share the tale of his most
recent adventure with the people. A tale involving a dragon,
Clayton's tales always involved dragons.
III Employed and Quitting
Clayton
Doubtfeather reclined in his chair, sipping on a glass of wine at the
tavern waiting for Derek Lawson to arrive. His friend had explained
to him that he had some news that he wanted to share over a drink.
Clayton was well aware of what his aging partner was going to tell
him, given the conversation they had shared while returning to town,
and the younger bounty hunter was searching for the words it would
take to convince Derek not to "retire" from the job.
The first snow of the season had begun to fall outside and the
fire inside the tavern gave the entire establishment a cozy feeling.
The gentle chatter of private conversation and smell of food
permeating from the kitchen only heightened the cozy feeling. Clayton
loved this time of year and given the good haul he and his partner
had taken from the previous job, and having a lucrative spring and
summer, the winter promised to be comfortable indeed.
In
previous years a lack of money had forced Clayton to continue to work
during the winter months, hunting orcs and goblins mostly, but a few
high profile bounty's had changed the bounty hunters' life for the
better. Clayton Doubtfeather was by no means rich, but neither did he
go cold or hungry. Clayton was looking forward to a bit of a holiday
from the job, maybe he'd even find a nice woman to share the winter
with.
Laughter from a nearby table had Clayton
glancing in the direction of strikingly beautiful girl. The young
woman brushed her auburn locks from her face, waved at the handsome
bounty hunter, and shared another giggle with her friends. Clayton
sipped his wine and returned the wave, even tipping his wide brimmed
hat to the ladies.. He smiled to himself; perhaps he could share the
cold winter with a few nice women.
The cold steel of
a blade on the side of his neck brought Clayton from his pleasant
thoughts. The assailant stood very close to Clayton's back,
concealing the weapon to the rest of the tavern. Clayton stiffened
but made no outward movement, one of his many magical items should
have alerted him to someone at his back, which told him that this
person was very skilled, and probably very dangerous.
"Outside, slowly." Ordered a voice that Clayton recognized.
"It would seem-" Clayton started but was
interrupted when the blade tightened to his throat.
"Outside!" The voice hissed accentuating his point with his
dagger.
Without another word, and offering no
resistance, Clayton Doubtfeather rose from his seat and slowly made
his way to the exit, with the unseen assailant close to his side,
clutching Clayton like a drunken friend. Clayton felt the freezing
night air keenly, having left his coat in the tavern. The unseen
assailant guided Clayton down an alleyway next to the tavern, an
alleyway with no visible exit.
Clayton felt sure
that his life was about to come to an unpleasant and cold, end right
there in the dark alley. His mind raced at the glum assumption, but
the bounty hunter did not want to die without knowing why.
"If you wanted to see me again you could have just asked
Cyrial." Clayton said to the unseen elf. The knife at his throat
loosened slightly and Clayton took the opportunity to escape,
knocking the arm wide and slipping out of the elven guard's grasp.
The two fighters squared up to each other, hands coming to their
weapon hilts.
"Is there something you need?"
Clayton asked. The bounty hunter eased his grip on his weapons as
Cyrial did the same. Perhaps he wouldn't need to fight, and then
scramble for an escape, after all.
"How did you
know?" The elf breathed, slightly thrown at his opponents
prowess. Clayton just eyed the elf, offering no answer to the elf's
plight. "The Lady Glensather would speak with you." Cyrial
said at length.
"Is that so?" Clayton
snorted. "And the knife was the best thing she could think of as
an invitation?"
"This meeting will be a
secret!" Cyrial retorted, hands going to his sword again.
Clayton eyed his counterpart with open suspicion. A knife to
the throat is no way to invite someone to a meeting. And what would a
Countess want with him anyway? Clayton and Derek had been hired by
many town magistrates and mayors, even an aid to a minor baron, but
never had he been approached by a ruler of one of the king's regions.
Something was very wrong with the scene unfolding before him.
"Master Cyrial" Clayton began with his typical
sarcasm even giving a low bow of feigned respect. "I regret to
inform you that I must decline your lady's request. Good eve to you
and my best to your mistress."
Clayton,
thinking himself quite witty, came out of the bow and even started to
move past the elf, but a hand from Cyrial blocked his way. For some
reason beyond Clayton's reasoning the elf was smiling. Something
Clayton had never seen the elf do.
"You
misunderstand Clayton Doubtfeather." Cyrial said, his wicked
smile played across his face. "You have no choice."
Clayton stiffened reflexively at the bold threat and tried to
draw his beloved twin daggers, but he found that he was moving very
slowly. Blackness began to work its way into the bounty hunter’s
vision. Clayton feared that he had been poisoned, but the telltale
tingle from one his magical bracelet explained much him.
This
was certainly the work of some sort of spell casting.
Clayton stared at the still smiling guard and tried to spit a curse
at the elf, but his strength failed him and Clayton felt himself
fall. The bounty hunter was quite literally swallowed up by the cold,
snow covered ground. All that was left of Clayton in the alleyway was
his trademark wide brimmed hat.
* * *
Derek
Lawson neared the tavern where he was supposed to meet his partner
Clayton. Every step was heavier than the last as the old bounty
hunter got closer to the appointed meeting place. This was the night
he was going to say goodbye to his young friend.
For
more than a decade Derek had been running with Clayton, chasing down
killers and monsters, making a pretty good living out in the wild
lands of the western part of the kingdom. Over the past several
months and more recently the near disaster with Jensin Milardo, Derek
Lawson had began to keenly feel the weariness in his bones. Just the
thought made the aging man clutch his fine coat. The snow was
beginning to gather on the streets of the quiet town. Even the winter
winds seemed colder to Derek now.
He knew that this
would be perhaps the hardest thing the old bounty hunter had ever
done, but he knew that he could not carry on with his younger
partner. Derek had nearly gotten himself, and Clayton, killed in the
mountains. His confidence in himself was shattered; Clayton would do
better without him, the old bounty hunter believed.
The warmth from the fire immediately made the old bounty hunter feel
better as he entered the tavern. Derek ordered an ale from the bar
keeper and exchanged a few pleasant words with the man. As Derek
turned to scan the room he spotted Clayton's coat in a seat near the
tavern's fire place. As he neared the table Derek Lawson began to
sense that something was wrong. His friend was not in the tavern, and
it was too cold outside for Clayton to be out without his coat.
"Are you looking for your friend Mr. Lawson?" Came a
voice from behind the old bounty hunter.
Derek
turned to see a pretty young woman standing before him. The same girl
that had waved to Clayton earlier.
"That I am
good lady." Came Derek's warm response, bowing the the girl.
"Chance ye seen 'im?"
"He left with a
friend only a short while ago." She responded. "I saw him
carry a man out, heading towards the town center."
"Thank ye darlin'." Derek said retrieving a silver coin
from his purse. "Warm yerself, on me."
Derek bowed low again and headed towards the tavern door. His mind
began to race; Clayton would not leave his coat during a winter
snow.
As soon as Derek exited the tavern he half ran
- half walked towards the town center, but he stopped short spotting
something dark lying on the white snow. He slowly walked towards the
dark object and felt his heart hit his stomach. Derek's hands
trembled as he reached to pick up Clayton Doubtfeather's trademark
wide brimmed hat.
* * *
Clayton
Doubtfeather tried to blink away the bleariness from his eyes.
Magical travel had never been easy for him, Clayton always seemed to
black out from the unnatural transport. When the blackness finally
disappeared from the edges of his eyesight Clayton was finally able
to take full measure of the surroundings.
There was
no fire or visible light source, however the small room he was in
glowed in some unseen light. The entire place was warm, even the bed
that Clayton was laying in (a new development to him), was warm. The
room was sparsely decorated but everything about the place had a
comfortable feeling, despite having no windows, Clayton noticed with
more than a bit of trepidation. This room had an uncomforting
shortage of escape routes.
The bounty hunter saw a
door on the far side of the room and swung his legs over the side of
the bed. Despite a minor headache Clayton Doubtfeather was no worse
for wear and was anxious to be on with the meeting that seemed
inevitable now. Just thinking about his predicament had him scanning
every corner of the room for Cyrial, Clayton was really beginning to
hate that elf!
Not seeing Cyrial anywhere around
Clayton rose to his feet and made his way to the door. Before turning
the handle he made a final check of himself and was relieved, and
confused, to find that he still had all of his weapons on him. With a
deep breath to steady himself, Clayton twisted the handle and pushed
to door open.
Only to find a roaring blizzard on
the side of a mountain.
Clayton Doubfeather gasped
and pulled the door shut. Confusion and panic overwhelmed the bounty
hunter for a moment. So many questions entered his thoughts at that
moment, none the least was simply, How?
"Forgive
my rudeness good Clayton." Came a melodic voice from the other
side of the room, which had now been transformed into a grand lounge,
complete with a warm fire place.
Clayton turned to
meet the gaze of Joanna Glensather, Countess of Trisfall, a region in
the north of the kingdom. The bounty hunters mind whirled with
confusion, what was going on?
"Please sit
Clayton, the weariness will pass shortly." Joanna said to him.
So disoriented was Clayton that he complied with the command.
A few deep breaths and he could feel his composure coming back to
him.
"Where are we?" Clayton said at
last.
"We are in a magical place that I use
while traveling." She explained "It is much safer, and more
comfortable, to camp shielded from the elements and potential
enemies."
"And to lock people away?"
Clayton accused more than asked. His scowl did lighten when seeing
the disarming hurt look cross the beautiful Lady Joanna's face. But
only slightly.
"I pray for your forgiveness
Clayton." She began. "I needed to meet with you, away from
any prying ears."
"You could have asked."
Clayton stated. The two shared a look and Lady Joanna conceded the
point with a nod.
"I do not know who I can
trust." Joanna said. "Forgive Cyrial's methods, he only
tries to help."
Now it was Clayton's turn to
give a consenting nod. He found that he could not stay mad at the
woman despite himself, though he still felt a strong resentment
towards the elf.
"I am in need of your services
Clayton." She said suddenly, drawing the bounty hunter from his
thoughts.
Clayton was unsure of what he could offer
to a woman as powerful as Joanna Glensather. "What do you need
from me, Milady?"
"I'll not bother with
the workings of kingdom politics." She began. "But let's
just say that my stance in the parliament has made me some very
powerful enemies-"
"Let me stop you right
there, Milady." Clayton interrupted, drawing a confused stare
from Lady Glensather. "I do not know what it is you think I do,
but I am no assassin."
That drew a giggle from
the lady. "I'm not asking that of you Clayton." She said.
"I have come to learn of a plan to assassinate many members of
the parliament, including myself. I want to hire you to track down
the assassin."
Clayton shifted in his seat and
brought a hand to his stubbled chin. "How would I even know who
this man is?"
"I managed to get a look at
her." Joanna said, emphasizing that last word and making Clayton
perk up in his seat. "There was an attempt on my life, only the
efforts of my body guard saved me. He was able to identify the
assassin"
The mention of Cyrial doing something
heroic put an unintentional scowl on the bounty hunters face.
"I promise that you will be paid well." Joanna said
mistaking Clayton's angry look.
"That is not my
worry, Milady." Clayton replied, replacing his scowl with a
smile. "My worry is with the nature of this possible deal. I am
not looking to make an enemy of the higher powers of the kingdom."
"I can assure you that you will not be making an enemy of
anyone in the parliament." She assured the bounty hunter. "On
the contrary, you would be doing all the lord’s and lady’s favor.
Except of course the one who is trying to kill us."
"So let me put this straight." Clatyon said with a smile on
his face. "Capture this assassin, expose some rogue in
parliament, become a hero?"
Lady Glensather
nodded and shared a smile with Clayton.
"As I
said, you will be paid handsomely." she assured him.
"Before I say yes" Clayton started "Or no, who is this
femme fatal?"
"Her name is Sarina
Starstrider." She replied.
That made Clayton
Doubtfeather straighten in his chair once again. He had heard of
Sarina, as had every man in his profession. Sarina Starstrider had a
hefty bounty on her head. She was wanted in nearly every region of
the kingdom for high profile murders. She specialized in taking high
risk assassination, though she had never attempted to kill members of
parliament before. That is not what caught Clayton's attention
however. What interested him was Sarina's infamous beauty.
"Sarina has been hired by Baron James Van Brohn."
Joanna continued, a name that Clayton recognized vaguely. "He is
not your worry, leave him to me. Sarina is rumored to be in the
Sharaton region. Does this mean that you will take the job?"
Clayton Doubfeather stared into the beautiful eyes of Joanna
Glensather for a long while. He had intended in having a peaceful
winter in Shropshire. Traveling from the westlands to the south would
be a difficult journey with the snows already starting to fall.
Despite having no real desire to work, Clayton couldn't resist the
tingle of excitement.
Clayton looked around the
magical room taking one last look at the comfortable surroundings,
when he looked back into the eyes for Lady Glensather she knew
Clayton Doubtfeather was on the job.
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