MERCS

  Wynter Blair | Alfie 'The Guvnah' Goodfellow | Raimy 'Rake' Molleker | Chinara 'Vixen' Makinde | The Harvester | Rosalind De Cheney

  Character Sheets:

  They made their way from the deserted village of Urlay north, into the moors. It was no cheerier here. The terrain was bleak, damp, and empty.

  Chinara wasn’t fearful. It was hard to be scared when in the company of The Harvester, The Guvnah, and the other elite operators in her party. But she could understand why the people of the area had felt nervous of the creature who lived in this landscape.

  Was the wight still here? No doubt Clamor had the skills to track it down. But none of them did, and as she traipsed farther north, Chinara became convinced they would find nothing, never mind any sign of Clamor.

  They made the evening fire from the plentiful gorse—it burned quickly, with a sweet smell—but was soon done, not lasting long enough for Chinara to get the cold and damp from her body.

  “Sometimes,” she shared with the group, “Gal’azu can be a miserable place for an Alinko.”

  Wynter raised an eyebrow. “About the same here as in Durnost. Wouldn’t you agree, De Cheney?”

  “I would. But I’m getting to the age where I appreciate spending the night in my own bed about as much as anything else. So I empathise, Vixen.”

  “I appreciate it.” Chinara glanced at The Harvester. He sat with them, but showed no interest in the conversation. Too trivial for his tastes, she was sure.

  “I heard from a little birdie,” said The Guvnah, a little mischief in his eyes, “that you quite enjoy spending the night at the abode of our illustrious leader, Lothar ‘Stiff’ Sauer.”

  Chinara caught Rake’s little smirk. Wynter’s skin stretched taut as she smiled. No doubt they were superficial, worthless grunts in the eyes of worthy knights, such as Vytenius. But Chinara and her friends loved nothing more than salacious talk and gossip.

  De Cheney smiled, unperturbed, at least on the surface. “It’s true, I like spending time with Stiff. Not in his abode, however. He insists on living in a room at The Smashed Marbles. I’ve tried to convince him to buy a place of his own. To no avail, so far.”

  She handled Alfie’s little dig smoothly, Chinara had to admit. She was a classy bitch.

  “Keep pestering him, is my advice,” Wynter said. “Men give in eventually.”

  De Cheney smiled. “Thanks. I’ll try.”

  Chinara gazed at her best friend, Wynter Blair. Always had sensible advice when it came to relationships. Yet she wondered if the girl had ever been in one herself. Certainly, when her brothers had been around, no one dared go near her. She knew Wynter grieved for them—even Rylan. But perhaps their deaths had freed her, somewhat, from her past.

  In the morning, they found something that didn’t require Clamor’s tracking skills.

  “They go both ways,” Alfie commented.

  Humans had walked here—lots of them, and recently. They had made a muddy path through the vegetation, boot prints visible everywhere. According to The Guvnah, back and forth. That was all their group could decipher, however. If Rittel was here, he’d probably be able to identify numbers; what they were carrying; what they’d had for breakfast. The irony of searching for a scout wasn’t lost on Vixen.

  “Where the fuck are so many people going to, or leaving, around here?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” Alfie said. “Until now, I was under the impression that this part of Gal’azu was uninhabited. Any thoughts?”

  Chinara had none. She’d only been where the Blades had sent her, and she had never come this way before.

  “That way is the Auster,” said The Harvester, pointing to the western route.

  He speaks, Chinara thought dryly. Though perhaps just as well. I had no idea the river was close.

  “And beyond it, the Deepwood, which Stiff wants us to explore,” Rosalind added.

  “Meaning, you think we should go that way?” Wynter asked her.

  De Cheney seemed to think about it. “Actually, since we have an inkling of what lies that way, it might make sense to find out what lies in the other direction. We’ve come all this way, after all.”

  “I was thinking the same,” said Wynter. “We might rule out finding Clamor out here on the moors, allowing us to focus on the forest.”

  No one argued, and so they went northeast. They were quieter than they had been. Large numbers of mysterious people marching back and forth can encourage one to take precautions.

  Chinara crouch walked next to Wynter, as they followed The Guvnah.

  He stopped beside a jut of rock. “This is as close as I can get.”

  Chinara peered around the rock. The trail of booted feet continued, disappearing into a large cavern. All she could see was blackness at first. But then she picked out the two guards, standing in the shadows on either side.

  “What do you think?” The Guvnah asked her. “I could get that witch to help,” he suggested, referring to De Cheney.

  Chinara screwed her mouth at that. “I can take them. Just be ready to run over.” She smiled sweetly. “You know, just in case.”

  When Alfie and Wynter nodded their agreement, she readied her sling, placing her first bullet into the cradle. She left their hiding place, sidestepping into the open as she spun her weapon around with gentle flicks of her wrist.

  ACTION ROUND

  Two hits, with damage of 9 and 11, took out the first guard, getting her off to a perfect start. When she redirected her aim to the second, she missed: the bullet slamming into the cave wall. Her fourth shot struck the second guard in the chest, causing him to double over, perhaps with breathing problems. She then struck him on the shoulder.

  The guard collapsed, unconscious.

  The Guvnah was the first to react, running for the cave entrance. The sharp point of his dagger finished the brief encounter.

  The Guvnah was thorough about it, dragging the two bodies into the rocks, while Chinara retrieved her ammunition.

  “You’re a fine shot,” he told her.

  “You’re surprised?”

  “Nah mate. Just offering up a compliment.”

  Chinara gave him an appraising look. He was a hunk of man, that was for sure. And his chilled attitude to life made him sexy. She didn’t go for the edgy types. She’d learned that lesson.

  He smiled at her, not remotely fazed by her long look.

  “Here we are.” Wynter’s voice. She’d brought the rest of their party to the cave entrance. “Two guards outside. Both were dark skinned, a bit like Chinara. We killed ’em before we got a chance to ask questions. Even if we don’t find Clamor, something shady is going on here. Right under our noses.”

  “Don’t look particularly inviting in there,” Rake commented, peering into the darkness.

  De Cheney studied the ground. “It’s possible this is where the folk of Urlay were taken. Likely, even. What do we think? Are we all prepared to go in?”

  Chinara wasn’t over the moon about the prospect.

  No one said anything.

  The Harvester reached behind one shoulder and drew his beidhander from its scabbard. Wordlessly, he made for the cave entrance.

  “Guess that’s a yes,” said Rake.