Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen: Chapter 30 Part 1 of 2
🕑 Added 2023-11-27 12:00:06 +0000 UTCChapter 30:
The days had passed quickly. Valter created armor, Petor trained with his weighted gear and grew plants. Mya created clothing, nets and her own potions beside Desari.
They’d refilled their supplies and then some.
Petor shifted in his new armor. It was as dark as night, the layers moving with one another to give him greater movement than any issued armor. It was also as quiet as the light scout armor he’d been using. Though it was several times stronger, more durable and Valter joked about it being submerged in the sea and still not rusting.
Valter had added in three inscriptions. One to increase overall strength, another to passively increase mana regeneration and a soul binding. A little blood and Petor could call the armor to him at anytime. Still going to be a bit before I can do like Valter and put it on while moving.
He hefted his spear from the ground, solid in his grip, his old spear felt too light now.
The shaft was ten sided, easy to grip, mana moved through it as naturally as his own mana channels. Inscriptions for soul binding, mana blast and what Valter called ‘Cavicate’. When activated mana would expand around the spear head, clearing the area around it so Petor could draw it back without it getting stuck. It looked like a flanged mace’s head, but the size of his spear head which had its own inscription to harden and maintain a sharp edge.
He'd debated the molten cutting edge, but it sealed the wounds it left. Devastating, but it might also cut off his ability to leech whoever he wounded.
He stored the spear and checked his saddle straps around Mirradon.
“Good girl.” He pulled out a carrot that she happily munched on. Her coat was well brushed, her shoes cleaned and checked. He got his foot up into one stirrup, and pressed himself up and over, shifting his weight to balance himself out.
Desari swung herself up onto Rezzie’s back, Valter was already upon his mount. Mya swung herself up and into the saddle like she was hanging from a rope.
Mya wore a jacket that reached down to her boots, her leather vest doing more to enhance her cleavage, even as it was covered in pistols, her sword hung from her hip.
She winked at some merchant who nearly tripped in the mud.
The carts had been closed up, the last trades completed. Jaxus and Hedgewick were talking to a group of locals, laughing at some joke and then waving as they parted.
“Alright lets get moving!” Jaxus called out to the caravan.
Guards on horseback headed out of the gate first, moving down the roads to scout ahead on their path to Aetheria.
The rested beasts of the caravan pulled on their harnesses, pulling the loaded carts. The caravan’s circle was broken as they set out of the gate.
Petor clicked Mirradon into movement, the horsemen settled around the cart Hedgewick was on.
People talked to one another behind hands when they passed. He looked over them and settled in for the ride.
They quickly left the village, travelling over wooden slats that hid the passage of their wheels before they reached the hard-packed road away from the village and picked up their pace.
Carriages got stuck in the rain but a lift from Petor or Valter freed them and set them moving again.
The forest was quiet, animals rarely wanted to disturb humans and the shadowlings would’ve put a dent in the population.
It was a slow and steady pace. Petor went through casting water and fire to better understand magic.
He stilled.
“Did you hear something?” He turned in his saddle, moving away from the caravan.
There!
“A horn,” Mya said.
“A war horn from the village.” Valter said.
Hedgewick stood in his seat and leaned over the side of the cart, looking back. His eyes narrowing.
“You four head back, find out what’s going on. I’ll pay you for your time. Guards!”
Petor looked at the others. A third call was cut off halfway.
There was coin on the table and something was wrong.
“Lets go,” Desari turned her mount.
“Woohoo!” Mya held onto her hat and reigns. Mesurial stood on two hoofs and came down facing the village and landed, her hoofs digging in. Mya laughed, drawing her pistol and spinning the chamber.
Petor finished wheeling Mirradon and set out after her at a slower pace, seating his helm on his head.
They cleared the caravan in no time, Mya in the lead, Desari, Petor and Valter following.
Their mounts hammered down the road towards the village.
***
Petor checked his shield was in place. Valter hadn’t the time to make him a new one yet but the old one was more than sufficient.
“Those don’t look like villagers,” Mya said. He squinted at the approaching riders.
“Look a lot like soldiers to me,” Desari said.
“Look like the Baron’s colors. I think he might have found out about our little operation,” Mya said.
“I don’t think that they’ve come to chat.” Valter drew out his arbalest.
Petor pulled his sling free from his belt, loading it with a piece of stormvine and began lazily circling it.
There were two horses abreast and seven ranks in total.
“Three to one, at least. Think that might make things more fair,” Petor said. He moved to the side, spinning the sling faster and released.
It hit a man in the third rank, the chunk detonated into lightning, more than happy to jump between armor. The horse stumbled and fell, going down, taking rider and four of the ranks behind with them. Others tried to divert into the trees, finding potholes, ditches and other things to break legs.
Desari had the same idea, her lighting spread out down the left side, killing several .
Mya’s revolver barked in her hand, punching through the thin leather and sheet iron armor.
Four died, one lost his head spraying a fellow behind him who topped from his horse to be run over by another.
“Fucking tree!” The sixth survived as Mya leaned forward to reload, an arrow passing through where she had been, infront of Valter and hit a tree.
Valter’s Arbalest bolt threw the man from horse as it hurried away from what new hell had begun on the trail.
None of the leading fighters were alive, horses were all across the road. Several riders were turning back in the direction they’d come.
Desari’s arrow cut down another, Mya adding another to her count.
“We’ll go through the forest, circle around the village. They’ll know we’re coming now,” Petor dropped down from Mirradon, patting her nose and stored her away in the special device.
The others dropped down and did the same.
“Ready?” He looked at them. Mya was reloading her revolver, her rifle already done. Valter had his Arbalest at the ready and Desari with an arrow on her string. Petor slipped a piece of storm vine into his sling and wrapped it up and put it away on his belt.
“Lets go.” Petor led, moving through the forest quickly.
Damn this armor is awesome. He had to adjust for just how far each stride would take him. That damn throw was much further than I thought. He’d been aiming for the first rank.
***
A woman was sobbing over the broken body of her boy, her hands shaking around the bolt stuck through his throat, his eyes staring up into nothing.
“Let the gods deal with that one,” Graxle shoved the crossbow back to his guard and sniffed. He moved back to his table Slats laid down in the mud of this disgusting place. The linen on his table nearly pristine white. Who couldn’t get a table cloth white?
He wiped his hands on the cloth, clearing them of mud.
A whip cracked, a woman crying out, several other whips lashed out at the rot that infected this town.
Guards and tax collectors rooted through the houses, tearing everything apart, finding anything of value and storing it in the stout vault carts.
A child was back handed with a sword for being too close. Crying out as his parents brought him backwards and tried to muffle his cries.
The guard spat on them as the tax collectors continued to turn over their homes.
The last of the ‘council’ whimpered and then coughed as her crucifix was dropped into the hole.
They hung behind him, wheezing and watching over his shoulder.
He tore off a strip of the greasy duck with his hands and shoved it into his mouth, wiping his hands on the cloth. This was better than all the executions he’d overseen in the capital.
Out here he was free to do as he desired without anyone looking over his shoulders. Might be an idea to start again seeing as the ‘hunts’ had to be stopped.
Oh how he enjoyed the rush that came with hunting the beggars the plagued his city. It reduced their numbers and provided a great entertainment that many a discerning noble was interested in.
“For avoiding paying taxes and for conspiring with a foreign entity you are sentenced with lashing till death.” Orvin pronounced to a family, tied to one another so they couldn’t flee.
Graxle looked over, something stirring within him. It had been a long time on the road.”
“Orvin, bring me the girl.”
“You monster! You pig!”
A guard cracked the father over the back of the head. He slumped forward onto his son, pulling the rest of the family.
“Momma, momma!”
A guard grabbed her by the shoulders, another cutting the bindings. She was hauled back, yelling and kicking her feet.
“Let me go in her place! Please!” The woman cried out.
Graxle grimaced in disgust. “Like I’d be interested in a cow like you.” He signaled to the guard that cut the girl’s bindings. The guard nodded and punched her in the face.
“Orvin, where is that caravan?” Graxle asked, ripping open the fresh bread and dipping it into some honey.
“The riders should have caught up with it by now my Baron.”
“Riders returning!” A man called out from the wall.
“Do they have my caravan with them.”
“There’s only five or so.”
“Must’ve caught the caravan and sent riders back.
Graxle wiped his face on the cloth and looked to the gate.
The rider’s eyes were wild, haggard looking. Not the hungry wolves he’d sent out.
“What happened?” Orvin yelled, his hand reaching for his blade.
“Demons in armor, on mounts. They-they cut through everyone!”
***
Petor and the others slowed at the sounds of whips and screams. Though yelling was quickly overtaking it.
Desari glanced over the wall and tilted her head at it and then at the others.
Mya cocked her pistol as if to say ‘I’m with you’.
Petor made a circle in the dirt, and then a half circle around it, pointing to Valter and himself.
They all nodded and split up.
Petor moved around the forest, checking the wall was clear and ran for the wall. He reached it, glanced back and Valter ran over.
Looks like the other side of the place.
Petor took off and stored his shield as he leaned against the wall. Then he squatted down and patted his knee then his shoulder.
Valter stored his arbalest and drew his sword and a thick nail. He stepped on Petor’s leg, then his shoulder, the soft thunk of the nail sticking into the wall.
Petor stood and Valter’s weight lifted.
He rolled over the wall without a noise. Petor looked up, seeing the nail sticking out of the wall. Smart bastard.
Second ticked by, the whipping slowed at least. Finally Valter’s hand reached over the wall. Petor ran and jumped, planting his foot on the nail, grabbing the hand and the ledge, hauling himself up as Valter grabbed his back and pulled him into the shadow of a nearby house.
A portly balding man in finery fit for a city, standing next to a table of food was yelling at four of the riders who were kneeling in the mud next to their mounts.
Behind him were the council strung up on crucifxes. The Tavern’s wall closest where the ‘market’ had been created had nails driven into it, chains and rope holding up the arms of people getting whipped. Others were watched over by guards trying to hear what the riders and their leader was saying.
Other men were tearing through houses, throwing bedding and clothes into the street, hauling away any coin metal or things of value they could find. Petor spotted two between houses drinking from some bottle they’d stolen.
A shadow dropped on them, Desari’s dagger tore through them with ease. She looked up at them and raised a finger to her lips.
A guard was moving down the houses past the alley, searching for the tax collectors.
Valter raised his Arbalest. Petor pointed to the man, and walked it infront of himself. Desari pressed up against the wall of the alleyway, dagger ready.
The bolt caught the man just as he reached the alleyway. Desari grabbed his armor and pulled him into the alley.
Valter rearmed and loaded the arbalest. “Going to have to do this quiet, kill as many as we can before we take out the ones guarding the villagers or whipping them.”
“Make about thirty or forty of them,” Petor said.
Desari snuck up behind a guard watching a family next to a house, she hauled him back by the neck and drove her blade into his back, he slumped as the family looked on.
She dragged him back between buildings, holding a finger over her lips. She tossed the father and mother daggers, then moved to the rear of the building.
Petor studied the village, tracking out the different guards, a group were getting called to the main area. “Time to get to killing.” Petor moved around and hung off of the raised platform built into the wall, letting himself drop into the mud.
He drew his dagger and moved through the houses towards where a group of tax collectors and their guards were away from the others.
“We’re taking these ones to the posts,” One of the guards yelled to the collectors.
“We’ll give you everything! Please!” The mother wailed.
“They’re just children!” The father yelled, getting cuffed on the back of the head and stumbling.
“Fine! Stop their crying anyway!” A yell came back from the house.
There were just two guards. Petor checked both sides of the street, he couldn’t see anyone else. He looked back to Valter.
Damn he blends in with the shadow well. He caught Valter’s eye he pointed to him and the guard pushing the family. Then he pointed to himself and the other guard.
Valter nodded and shifted his aim.
Lets do something stupid. Another glance, then he threw himself forward, running on an angle behind the two guards. He drew his spear as a bolt went through the pushing guard’s back and out of his chest.
He let out a grunt and exhale of air. A daughter’s eyes went wide and large. Don’t scream.
The father clamped his elbow around his daughter’s mouth, his hands tied with the others.
“What you doing back there?” The leading guard began to turn. Petor threw his spear. The man’s eyes barely had time to wide as the spear went through his armor, chest and out the other side.
Not much essence, has to have an Orange flecked or weaker core.
The guard dropped dropped to the ground. The family watched Petor with wide eyes, he waved for them back where he’d come from and cut the father’s hand’s free.
He moved to the man with a bolt in him, a quick jab with the dagger and he stilled completely. Petor took his dagger and handed it to the father. He set about freeing the family as Petor stored the body.
“Thank you.”
Petor nodded and waved them away, they moved for the opening as he repeated the killing blow on the man with a spear through him, he was well dead already. He tore the spear free and stored it, then the body. He checked the street a bunch of pans were thrown out onto the street into a pile of items.
He moved against the home, hearing two, no three people in the house. One was moving towards the door, the others were further back.
