Chapter 6 (Part IV): Picking a Fair Fight

Oh yes, I remember when Thrakaduhl came to Gerault’s summer festival for the first time. Yes indeed. That was a hard year to forget, even before all those things they talk about in your history classes. Ethyl Meechum cheated at the pie contest. My hand on the Good Scrolls I swear to you she cheated. I never tasted a pie like that that was made without some sort of unearthly hocus pocus like the kind they teach in the city. And a gooseberry pie, no less? Who even tries to make anything with gooseberries and expects to win? Witchcraft I say; illegal use of witchcraft. But she’s dead now.

-          My great grandmother, recalling her own personal brush with history

Thrakaduhl wasn’t naïve; he was well aware that plotting in the midst of a crowd was unwise. While most of these people were very invested in dispatching their overlord, any one of them might be reporting back to Lionel, so Thrakaduhl deliberately spun a half truth. He made a lot of noise about cutting the head off the snake, and confronting Lionel tonight at the fair.

The trio then discussed the rest of their plans in private. With any luck, Thrakaduhl’s big talk in the bar would prompt Kerwyn to focus most of his security on safeguarding himself, drawing men away from the horses and any prisoners on the Kerwyns’ estate. Kaira insisted Jon handle the horses, and she handle searching for Regina. Jon had protested, but relented when Kaira explained her reasoning. Jon was an experienced farmhand and a fairly plain looking white man; he could walk around the stables and blend with the townspeople in a way she never could. He’d be able to get close to the horses, and even if he couldn’t steal them, she was certain he could spook the hell out of them, creating a sizable distraction. If the distraction were big enough, Kaira would likely only need to deal with a handful of men on the estate, and being stealthier and (admittedly) more ruthless than either the orc or the weredog, she was confident she had the best chance of dealing with the guards.

What Kaira didn’t like was the idea of Thrakaduhl tackling Lionel without her, but he insisted that at the very least, he had to maintain the bluff until the last possible moment. While Thrakaduhl was cunning, Kaira knew he was also noble to the point of imperiling himself. Because of his honor and conviction, he’d suffered greatly at the hands of his father, and Kaira suspected that Chieftain Tharkrada had only allowed the man to live because he held onto some love for his son. Despite Thrakaduhl’s reassurances he’d be fine, she could easily imagine that he wasn’t bluffing – he intended to take Lionel on, and he never promised her that he wouldn’t.

When night fell, the townspeople lit torches to illuminate the fair. The fair was always scheduled in the dead of the summer, so that it could run pretty late, but apparently tradition was that the big horse race, the one people talked about for months before hand, had to be done after dark, by starlight – one of the constellations, apparently, held special significance for the horse breeders that had started the tradition, and they’d only have their race with it high overhead.

The darkness of the new moon suited Kaira well as she slipped onto the Kerwyns’ land and made her way along the dirt road up toward the main house. As if to maintain their distance from the people they tormented, the Kerwyns had left many trees along the road and around the base of the hill their house sat on. The fair was likely visible from the house’s balcony, but aside from that this portion of the estate was isolated from the surrounding community. The trees provided excellent cover for Kaira, her slim frame and long limbs allowing her to navigate the branches and limbs almost as easily as walking along the ground. She might have been a bit quieter advancing on the ground, but guards wouldn’t give as much thought to a rustle in the branches as to a cracking twig in the grass.

Kaira circled around the house, and found the building Jon had described. It was down on the back slope of the hill, barely in sight when approaching the big house. Its construction was peculiar to say the least; It looked like a fairly typical storage building for a farm, except that it backed into the hillside, with earth and grass reaching out onto its roof. Kaira guessed it predated the house by quite a bit, but beyond that she wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

She scanned the area in the darkness, wishing that Ochsner were there to guide her with her uncanny lowlight vision. She could see one guard at the door of the building, another on the balcony of the main house, and two patrolling the grounds, casually wandering around the hill, and talking about something irrelevant – macramé? That didn’t seem likely, but Kaira figured you can never really guess what people will be into. The important thing was that their minds weren’t at all on the job at hand, and they’d be unlikely to hear her over the sound of their own voices. She paralleled them until they came near the building, and then she slipped down out of the branches and quietly fell in behind them. Not too close, but close enough to hide her silhouette behind them as they approached the building. As soon as they passed its corner she rolled away and pressed herself to the wall out of sight of the door’s guard.

She climbed on top of the building, waited for the two talking guards to move out of earshot, and then deftly leaped off the roof, landing squarely on the man guarding the door. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs with a muffled whumpf and a tight grip around his neck had him unconscious within a few moments. The door was locked, so she rummaged through his pockets for the key. Once she had the door open, she dragged the man in behind her and relocked the door from the inside. With any luck, his comrades would think he’d wandered off to relieve himself.

Kaira lit a small oil lamp she’d bought in the market, and inspected her surroundings. The building was old alright – it covered the entrance to a mine shaft that burrowed down into the hill. She doubted very much that she’d encounter another abandoned Dwarven fortress, but given the guard she’d had to knockout to get in, she was sure she’d find something.

Thrakaduhl hadn’t played the part of the subtle hero, so he didn’t start now. Lionel turned up at the racing circuit with a retinue: several guards, a couple of guests, some older family members, and a young woman who was either his wife or his daughter. Once he saw them get situated in their box seats, Thrakaduhl ran out into the middle of the field and stood in the light of the torches, his bow in one hand and a borrowed woodsman’s axe in the other. The townspeople chattered excitedly in the aged wooden stands.

“People of Gerault,” Thrakaduhl said loudly, “I don’t know you or your town as well as I should like, but I am fond of it nonetheless. You work hard, and readily share the fruits of your labor with complete strangers. You’ve also raised some vicious checkers players.”

The people laughed, and someone shouted that they wanted a rematch on the hay bales.

“I’d very much like that,” Thrakaduhl nodded and gestured with his bow, “But I’m afraid right now I must bring to you a more serious issue. As I spent the day among you, enjoying your company and your kindness, I’ve heard one name uttered with universal disdain. Kerwyn.”

The crowd entered an uneasy quiet.

“The Kerwyn family’s reputation extends beyond the borders of this little town,” Thrakaduhl said, “In fact, that's part of the reason I came here. I never imagined, however, that Lionel Kerwyn could be half so bold a brigand as he is.”

“Get off the field!” one of the men in Lionel’s box shouted. Another man in the bleachers shouted the same, apparently trying to rile support from the crowd, but both of them were cowed by the deathly silence of the townspeople.

“If it would please the people of Gerault,” Thrakaduhl said, “I would extend the protection I have offered to the people of Defiance. I would ask you to deny the Kerwyn’s any further indulgence, and join my people in ending this mockery of society.”

Lionel stood up and walked to the front of his box laughing, “And what protection can a lone orc offer?”

“Well I thought I might start by escorting you and your kin, and all your lackeys out of this nice little town, and restoring the property you’ve stolen.”

“I’ve stolen nothing…”

That bold assertion was apparently a tipping point for the crowd, which began shouting and flinging food and drinks into the Kerwyns’ box.

“Enough!” Lionel shouted, “Do you think you frighten me? Any of you? You’ve cowered beneath me for years. You didn’t stop me when I took your wives into my bed, or your daughters. How many of you are raising my bastards? Hm? And not one of you cuckholds has ever had the balls to stand up to me before!”

The crowd continued shouting, but Thrakaduhl realized Lionel’s men were issuing direction to someone while he carried on with impressive volume.

“You think this orc showing up somehow changes things? That because of him you can suddenly stand up to me?”

Thrakaduhl turned to see fires lighting behind him. A dozen of Lionel’s men appeared out of the darkness on the far side of the track, with flaming arrows nocked in long bows – and they were all pointed at the men, women, and children sitting in the wooden bleachers. The people hadn’t reached the angry-mob threshold yet, maybe because there were so many children and elderly to be mindful of, and when they noticed the archers, they fell quiet.

“What now, Lord Kerwyn?” Thrakaduhl said, “Will you murder your people, or simply have me killed? Which course do you think will best endear you to them?”

“I don’t frankly care what would earn their affection,” Kerwyn said, “Fear is far more valuable to me.”

“Well, you certainly have a close acquaintance with fear,” Thrakaduhl acknowledged.

“I am its master. I shape it as one shapes clay…” the man praised himself.

“I think you may have that backwards,” Thrakaduhl said, “Because from where I stand, I see a man ready to have other men shoot your enemy in the back. If you held the bow that did the deed, I’d mark you a coward, and you don’t even have that.”

Lionel was easily prodded, and with a sneer he marched down from his box seat, flanked by his guards, and readied his razor sharp sword.

“If it’s a fight you wanted, it’s a fight you shall have, orc.”

Jon hated not rushing straight in to rescue his wife. It had been bad enough not charging in last night, but to continue waiting after finding out what Lionel might be doing, or have done, seemed intolerable. It had only been the memory of Regina’s calm voice in his mind that had persuaded him to listen to his conspirators’ plan, and now he felt ridiculous. The others were risking their lives while he screwed around looking for a way to steal the horses. Bad enough he was horse thieving, he was actually supposed to do the job badly, in order to provide a distraction. Having never stolen someone else’s livestock before, he was sure he would do it badly, but he wasn’t at all sure how to deliberately do it badly.

He’d been able to make his way into the back of the stables next to the race track, where he was now brushing down a prize bull that had been competing against would-be riders all day. He was blending well enough for the moment, but the Kerwyns were tight nit. They didn’t even have their deputies handling their horses – this was all Lionel’s brothers and cousins tending to their animals and getting them ready for the show. There would be no way to close in discretely, so he began listening with his exceptional hearing, hoping to hear something useful.

“… Hemomancer is offering actual gold for the special ones,” one of the men said.

“They all want special women,” another man said, “They all think they’re special. Like they’re the only sons of bitches ever got into the business of buying and selling people.”

“Not that kind of special,” the first man said, “he doesn’t care if they’re pretty or exotic or got big tits. He wants anything strange.”

“Strange how?” a third man asked.

“Lionel’s been pretty tight-lipped about that, but apparently old Scales in Kingstown’s been giving him and some others in the trade nibbles. He went in on a raid and scooped up a dog woman.”

“A what?”

“She’s like a werewolf.”

“There’s no such thing,” the second man said.

“Don’t be daft,” a fourth man said, “Werewolves might not be common about this part, but they’re real enough. Grandpappy nearly lost an arm to one when he was a young man.”

“That was a bear.”

“Well this one’s real enough,” the first man said, “I’ve seen her myself. She was supposed to be sold off to the hemomancer with the rest of her kind they rounded up that night, but she was pretty enough Lionel decided to bring her back here. Thought maybe someone else might give him a better offer.”

“How pretty?”

“Real pretty,” the man said, “Lionel said not to touch her, but just looking at her locked up down there was enough for me to get what I needed done.”

Jon’s teeth ground against each other, and his fingers ached with tension.

“With or without the fur?” the third man asked.

“Werewolves aren’t real,” the second man said again.

“Seen her both ways and she’s plenty fine either way,” the first man said, “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’ve got some saved back,” the third man said, “might be enough to buy her off Lionel.”

“Might need to split the cost with someone…?” the first man said.

“How much have you got?” the third man said, “And mind you I get her first either way. I don’t want you roughing her up before I get a chance to…”

Jon snapped. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. If he was supposed to create a distraction, then he was going to do it now. His claws pushed out of his finger tips and his fangs slid out from between his teeth as he transformed and rushed at the men.