No Strings Attached - Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty - 

53rd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era

Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex

It was an hour before noon when the townsfolk began to gather.

Now that they were well-hidden and not in as much of a rush to leave the area, Viridian took some time to count the number of villagers remaining. 

Based on the number of homes in this part of Shorefarm, she estimated--with Lazur’s help, their exchange little more than whispers in the shadows of the shop they hid in--that this village had a population between one and two hundred before disaster fell upon it.

Now, twenty-three people stood out in the open of the village square.

Unlike the last time, some of them moved to place stacks of wood into a large metal brazier that hadn’t been there before. The brazier was lit, and a few more villagers carried a large pot over to it.

Water was dumped into the pot, then a sack that had swarms of flies buzzing around it was torn open, and rotten vegetables were tossed in.

The soup was stirred by an elderly woman with a long wooden ladle.

The village gathered around, forming a great big circle with the corpse pile in its centre, and the slowly-boiling soup to one side.

Few people stood close to each other, and when their eyes met, more often than not they would look away from one another.

The puppets waited. Whatever was happening it wasn’t yet time for them to interfere. Not quite yet. And then, from the stables came the village’s lord.

He was dishevelled and dirty, his robes more tattered than they had been, but the sash across his waist was pristine still, its golden thread catching the light as he came to stand by the pile of corpses.

The man raised his arms. “Oh, great Aurynth the Golden! Rightful ruler of the Yellowfields! The warm fire! The seeder of wheat! I, lesser servant of you my great lord, beseech you for a sign!”

The villagers slowly raised their arms as well, though it seemed to take some a lot of effort.

“You’ve taken my blood. You’ve taken my serfs. And yet, we have more to give, do we not?” His eyes glowed with fervor and he scanned the crowd. “Who volunteers? Who wishes to give of themselves to the great Aurynth? To be a sacrifice for the golden one, and for our humble home?”

The villagers shuffled.

Then one of them pushed a young man forwards, and he stumbled into the attention of the others.

“A willing one! Praise!”

“Praise!” the villagers shouted.

And then they set on him. Some pulled out knives, others simply used their hands and legs.

The man was pulled apart, his arms outstretched. A machete came down, and he moaned as his arms were removed.

They were added to the stew.

“Feed, my serfs! Grow stronger on this meat, blessed manyfold by our golden dragon lord!” the mayor shouted. “And watch as one more sacrifice is added to our lord’s own feast!”

The mayor glowed as he presided over the villagers. Bowls were handed out and simply scooped through the large pot, coming out with boiling stew that the villagers poured down their throats with hungry abandon.

“Now?” Carnel asked.

“Now,” Lazur agreed.

Lazur lit the small firestarted, then pressed the flame onto the fuse-wire around one of the bottles. Then she held it out for Viridian to light one of her own bottles.

The fuse wire burned slowly, sending out small sparks as it lit up and started to leave a winding trail of fire around the neck of the bottle.

“Go,” Lazur said.

Viridian nodded, then spared a quick glance to see that Carnel had her own bottle primed and ready.

They stepped up to the front of the shop and tossed the alchemical bombs out and into the square.

Viridian turned, grabbed the bottle that Lazur handed her, then tossed it as well. She took a moment to see the effects of the first bottles crashing into the ground near the villagers.

The alchemist on the Gentle Tidings hadn’t given them anything explosive. The contents of the bottles was a powerful soporific. Used as a light incense, it was meant to help people fall into a gentle sleep. The bottles cracked on the pavement, and the lit fuses around their necks was enough flame to make the entire contents of the bottles explode outwards. Not so much in balls of flame, but in great bursts of purple-blue smoke.

The villagers caught in the centre of the blasts coughed and choked on the air while a second volley came down and burst open, releasing more soporific into the air.

One of the villagers caught in the very centre, with a bottle bursting at his feet, stumbled back, then crashed into the ground.

The smoke, in this quantity, was meant to put a grown adult down for a while. Used on someone weakened by exhaustion and hunger? Viridian knew nothing about alchemy, but she imagined that the effects would only be stronger now.

“Thieves! Betrayers! Scum and villains!” the mayor roared. He stood to his full height and balled his hands into fists. There was a glow from the middle of his chest that burst outwards.

Several villagers were sent flying away from him to tumble head over heels over the square’s cobbles, but the wave of pressure worked to shove the growing cloud of soporific away. 

“By the grace given onto my by Aurynth the Golden,I shall rip thee asunder! Rise, serfs! We have found our blasphemus adversary! Grab your forks and knives and prepare to put an end to them!”

Viridian turned towards Lazur. “Now?”

Lazur nodded once, then pulled out the tube that Magus Maldrak had given them. 

“Wait. Save it,” Carnel said. “For a stronger enemy. We can take him.” She grabbed her sword and pike in the same hand and held a lit bottle in the other. “Follow!”

Lazur hesitated, but then Carnel was in her line of fire, and she lowered the tube. “Idiot!” 

“We have to help her,” Viridian said as she tossed a last bottle. There were a couple more left in her bag, but it was likely too late to use those. She grabbed her pike in one hand and her sword in another, then leapt out of the shop with as much speed as she could muster. Behind her, she heard Lazur rushing to follow.

Carnel didn’t wait long, she ran to the nearest villager still on their feet and thrust her pike forwards. The speartip punched into the peasant’s head, then came out bloody before Carnel turned her attention to the next.

“My serfs!” the mayor screamed. He reached into the depths of his robe and pulled out a long, curved knife, the same scaley golden one he’d used just a couple of days prior. With a scream, he ran out towards Carnel, already swinging.

He was fast. Faster than the lighthouse keeper, and quicker on his feet.

Carnel stabbed at him, but the man shifted out of the reach of her pike, then ran in quick and sliced across Carnel’s front.

She managed to duck back, but not before the knife cut through the front of her gambeson as though it were paper rather than thickly padded cloth.

Viridian scanned the area as quickly as she could. Some nine or ten villagers were down, taken out by the smoke. A dozen more were still on their feet. One was bleeding out on the ground near Carnel’s feet.

The villagers were spread out in a large semi-circle of sorts, with the mayor in its centre. They seemed shocked, but with every passing second they recollected their wits. Knives came out, the old lady by the cauldron brandished her ladle, and some merely raised their fists.

Viridian wasn’t sure they could take on this many, let alone the mayor, but smoke continued to pour off the burning liquid on the ground, and even as she watched, one of the villagers slumped to the ground.

Carnel flung her lit bottle at the mayor’s feet, and he hopped to the side, avoiding the majority of the puff of smoke that followed. The jump was punished with a quick jab of her pike that punched into his robes and clearly hit something beneath. 

“Whore!” the man screamed. He pointed at Carnel with his knife, then swept it to indicate Viridian and Lazur as well. “Kill them!”

The villagers screeched as they charged forwards. 

Viridian stepped back, but when a larger man rushed towards her brandishing a knife, she didn’t hesitate and stabbed the pike into his chest. It dug in, and she found herself sliding backwards, wooden feet not finding enough purchase on the cobbles to stop and her weight not enough to stop the man cold.

A swing with her sword cut the man’s arm even as he tried to stab her with his knife, then Lazur stepped up next to him and swiped his throat open.

“Focus,” she said.

Viridian nodded and pulled the pike free. She didn’t want to lose the weapon just yet. She was going to need it.

***