Four Horsemen: Chapter 30 Part 2 of 2

Petor readied his blade.

They came out with several items, dumping them into the street. Petor grabbed him by the neck and drove his blade up and in, twist and out.

He slumped with a wheeze. Petor pulled him to the side and stored the body.

Footsteps came from the house. Petor moved up to the wall of the house again. Several more pans were thrown out without them coming out of the house.

“At least they got some good metal. The wife’ll be pleased with this.”

Petor turned the doorway’s corner, grabbed the man by the throat and drove his dagger into his back.

“Waste of time having a wife, plenty of brothels about.” The last man said as Petor laid down the man at the entrance.

“Though takes coin, but knowing you’re a tax collector they’re good with giving a discount if ya know what I mean.” The man laughed at his own joke. Petor moved through the ransacked house the man was tearing out drawers and throwing things on the floor. Petor stabbed him in the back, he stood up stiff as a rod and then collapsed to the side.

Petor grabbed the body and put it at the rear of the house, then unstored the others too. No sense in filling up his cramped storage with bodies if he didn’t need to.

He moved to the doorway and looked back where Valter was, he couldn’t even make out the man till something flashed, a bolt.

Petor tracked where it had gone and started moving in that direction. A yell rose from the main square, several voices raised together actually.

He picked up the pace.

Mya fired once, twice, three, four.

Petor drew his spear and ran out onto the main street. A guard raised his head. A bolt found him as Petor stabbed through another, tearing it back out and hurled it at one further away that started to yell. The spear went halfway through him.

Petor held out his hand, the spear tore free of the body, landing in his outstretched hand.

He flicked it to clean the blood.

A group of three tax collectors saw him and began running. Petor grabbed his sling, whirled it and let loose.

The stormvine hit one trailing behind, he and his friend were fried good, the threads of essence just enough to know they were dead. The last was burned, thrown to the ground but pushing himself up.

He wrapped up the sling and jogged over the tax collectors. He stabbed his spear through the back of the remaining man’s ribs and out again, not slowing his pace as he headed for the sounds of fighting. Movement caught his eye. Valter running along the wall, he dropped down out of sight.

Petor turned a corner, a guard with a hand around his neck crumpled backwards into an alley as Desari stepped forward, drawing out her sword.

She waved for him to follow, he ran after her through the homes to the wall and along it towards the tavern.

They came out perpendicular to the crucifxes. The caravan guards clashed with the Baron’s guards. They were better equipped and trained, but there were more of the guards and several of the tax collectors had joined in on the fight as well.

Mya’s shots took down those away from the melee and close to the villagers.

“Kill them, kill them all!” The portly noble screamed from within a group of guards back from the fighting.

Petor drew out a grown Hellfire Thistle pod. It was smooth in his hand, with little holes that held the thorns within.

He held it up to Desari and then indicated to the group, she nodded and moved to the side.

Petor charged it with mana and threw it.

I landed just shy of the group, a guard looked at it and then back at Petor and Desari.

“Intru-!” The thistle pod detonated, spewing thorns out in a circle.

It tore through three of the guards closest, including the one that made to yell, throwing them back. The noble cried out, holding his bleeding leg and dropping to the ground.

The three other guards were wounded but surprised more than anything. Drew his spear and ran forward.

Desari threw three darts, the wind shimmered around them. Going through armor and guard and out the other side on two of them, the third target whirled and interposed his shield, deflecting the dart.

Petor slapped the shield away with his spear, the man’s mouth opening in surprised as Petor stabbed through it all.

“Who are you bastards! I’ll fucking whip you till you’re halfway dead then hunt you-“ A rifle fired.

Petor used Cavicate, the man detonating from the inside and dropping clear of his spear with a hand sized hole in his chest.

Two streams of essence flowed into his channels once again.

He looked back at the noble.

Desari drew another dart, one pinning the nobles’ head to the ground with such force the back of his skull had exploded.

Mya fired twice, dropping guards moving closer to the villagers.

Petor  drew out his shield and grabbed the handle, half tightening it with his spear-hand.

Valter’s bolt threw back a tax collector trying to run in his direction. His invisibility peeled back as a second tried to back pedal.

His Arbalest disappeared into his storage, replaced by sword and shield.

White mist filled the eyes of the tax collector thrown back by the bolt, he grabbed his fellow’s legs, dragging him to the ground. Valter jogged back him, his sword quick and precise in ending the man’s life.

Petor ran towards the main fighting, putting the villagers behind him.

Dead reached out to the baron’s guards.

Petor set his shield and  drove his spear through the back of a guard. His cry made others turn. They tripped and kicked at the dead, someone screamed.

“Hold firm lads!” The caravan guard captain-Clint called out. “Their baron’s dead, so are all the others.”

Petor batted away a weapon, he barely saw what it was as his spear lashed out at the would-be-attacker, killing them.

Every blow went through armor like it didn’t exist.

He ducked low and swept his spear, breaking three legs from the wet snaps and yells.

The dead reached for throats with their teeth once they hit the ground.

He rose, spear smacking someone in the back of the knee, cutting through it and dropping them forward. A caravan guard’s sword cut through his neck, nodding to Petor as they both turned to their fights.

Valter stepped into the battle his sword glowed red as it cut through armor and bodies, leaving the bile rising smell of charred meat.

Petor hadn’t decided if it was bile inducing because knowing it was a person or because it smelt kind of good.

He moved through the group like a man among children, each blow laying one low.

Two of the baron’s men screamed, pawing at their armor, smoking as caravaners killed them.

“I surrend-“ The voice was cut off, no quarter was to be given this day.

Petor flicked his spear clean, and looked around, none of the baron’s people were left standing.

“You six, get those crucifxes down and the people off of them, you four cut those on the tavern wall free, you two get the villagers free and set them to freeing the others. Rest of you are with e and we’re sweeping through the town,” Clint said.

“I’ll join you,” Valter said.

“Appreciate the help.”

“I’m going to see to the whipped then the crucified,” Petor jogged over to the whipping wall, four others running behind him.

He gritted his teeth, they were all in terrible condition.

He stored his spear and shield, using his dagger to cut one that was barely moving free. They collapsed in a wimper, Petor caught them barely before they went into the mud.

They moaned as he quickly adjusted them so he wasn’t touching their wounds. He poured healing mana into their body. The savage lines crossed their back, red angry and raw, their shirt hadn’t even been pulled off, sticking into the wounds.

He cut it off and pulled it out so it wouldn’t stay stuck.

The other four moved quickly, one cutting, three pulling them off and putting them to the side.

“Fucking animals.” One hissed.

“This one’s dead.”

“Shit, this one’s barely holding on.”

Their were too many and their wounds too dire.

Petor pressed his mana, pushing it out like he had done when first growing plants, spreading it to all within range, it sunk into the wounded, the weeds and everything in the soil starting to grow as well. His mana plummeting.

He needed to connect to them directly and doing it one by one was going to take too much time.

Split it out, like roots, direct it.

Mana followed his command more easily as his core had evolved.

“Marnie, come on Marnie, talk to me.” One of the guards called out to one with head wounds.

Mana condensed into roots, spreading from his hand and reaching out to the wounded, connecting him to them.

Their breathing came easier, the plants around him slowed their growth, creating a carpet of green then muddied as wounded were laid out.

Bandages, poultices and potions were put to use, speeding up the healing. Petor focused on his spell, stabilizing and healing, pulling people back from the brink.

More guards helped wounded over in various states. Petor kept his mana focused on those a half step beyond the veil.

Potions knitted their bodies back together, unaware of the pain.

“Get food and drink into them if you can,” He told guards with the newest wounded.

“Got it, lets see what we can get from the tavern.” They hurried over.

Two ran back out with hard bread and a pot of water with a ladle.

Petor touched the worst of the wounded, giving them a greater share of mana, drinking down potions that increased his natural regeneration.

Finally the last of the wounded stepped back from the celestial realm. Petor cut off the flow of mana, his head pounding from the concentration and constant mana drain.

“Messy business,” Mya said, walking up to him.

“Got any idea what was going on?” Petor asked taking a draw from his canteen.

“Baron came up the road not a few hours after you left.” One of the villagers caring for her wounded husband said. “Knew about your caravan, where you’d been, where you were going, what you had with you. Someone musta talked. He got everyone together, set the tax collectors and guards on the houses, track down everyone.” She glanced over at a man taking a bolt out the neck of a boy. “Almost everyone. Lil Ned got the horn and blew on it good and hard, hoping to bring you back.” She shook her head and wiped the dried blood from her husband’s brow.

“Council got put up on them crosses so they could see what happened to us all. They were picking out people at random for whipping.” Her voice caught and she looked past Petor.

He followed her gaze to the Baron’s body, several people were kicking it or spitting on it.

The Council were leaned up against the wall, some crying in relief.

Valter and his group returned from their hunt. A caravan guard on the wall whistled, getting everyone’s attention.

“Friendly!” He yelled.

Desari left the council members, headed for Mya and Petor, Valter moved to them as well.

The guards spread out, talking and helping where they could.

Hedgewick rode into the village with four guards.

“Sorry business all of this.” He shook his head after he’d taken it all in.

“Mister Hedgewick, something for you,” Desari said.

They met one another halfway, Petor followed with the others.

Desari took out pieces of parchment and passed it to him.

His eyes narrowed as he read through the pages.

“This will be invaluable Desari.” He said quietly to them and raised his head to yell. “Clint!”

The man jogged over.

“Master trader,” He bowed his head slightly in greeting and nodded to the horsemen.

Just what’s on the pages.

“What do you make of this?” Hedgewick gave him the papers.

Clint’s expression went stony. “Someone from the caravan sold us out, one of the guards. It talks about taking watches at certain times when they can give them an opening to take us.”

He took out a notebook and flipped through it.

“Hannow, I wanted to confirm, but those are his regular watch times.” Clint glanced around.

“Where is he?”

“He came with us,” Clint continued looking-distracted.

He nodded towards a man leaning on a wall, someone passing him a canteen.

He saw the motion, grabbing the canteen and punching his fellow guard. He ran for the Baron’s horses.

“Kill or maim?” Mya asked, her pistol in her hand with barely a whisper of it leaving its leather holster.

“Maim,” Hedgewick said.

She fired, his right knee exploding as he went sprawling in the mud.

“Thank you Miss Mya,” Hedgewick said, he looked at his guards. “Gather him up and take him to a secluded spot, we’ll need to have a lengthier conversation with him. Clint get what information from him you can.”

“Yes sir,” Clint said.

The mounted guards rode over to their old comrade, slipping from their horses to grab the man’s arms he cried out as his legs dragged in the mud, the occasional thing hitting his foot, causing his exploded knee to grind.

“I’ll have ten thousand gold transmitted to your balances immediately. I will also need to figure out what to do with a barony without a baron. I sense that the area is going to go through a bit of change.” Hedgewick pursed his lips.

“Thank you kindly, and the village?” Mya asked.

“The village?”

“Are we going to evacuate them, tell them to flee?”

“Oh, by the scales no, they’re some of our best ingredient growers. We’ll change the government here to one that will be more amenable to our aims. Jaxus said how he was running into issues requiring more ingredients but the farmers didn’t have the room to grow it and keep it  secret. This should help out nicely. Though it will require a greater watch over the area.” He tapped his fingers in series on his leg. “Quite a bit of work I think. Hopefully we can get this wrapped up and headed on towards Aetheria by tonight.”

“The loot?” Mya asked, shoving a brush down a rifle, clearing it of powder and residue.

“Anyone you killed is yours to loot,” Hedgewick said.

“Agreeable.”

He clicked to his horse and rode over to the council, slipping down from his mount.

“Well, lets go strip down the baron, then the others,” Mya said. “Waste not, want not.”

“Left some bodies in the back of some person’s house,” Petor said.

“Yeah, not the kind of gift someone’s going to be happy about getting,” Mya said.

“I was able to get a few things from the Baron before,” Desari said.

“Nice, once this is all cleaned up we’ll have a look, see what is useful and what isn’t,” Mya said.

They split apart, Petor headed for the house he’d dumped the bodies, he cut free armor, pulled off rings and necklaces, then coin purses.

Getting quicker at this whole thing. He stored the bodies, and headed back to the main area of the village.

The area around the tavern where he’d healed the whipped villagers, was now a patch of grasses and wild flowers.

Boots were quickly turning it back into part of the broken mud of the rest of the village.

A cart was off to the side, people tossing the Baron’s men, stripped of all valuable possessions, into it.

Dead villagers were tended by their families and carefully carried and loaded into other carts.

Grim-face villages with shovels headed out of the gate towards the small graveyard.

Petor dropped off the bodies into an awaiting cart.

“Pigs won’t be going hungry for a good turn or two,” One of the villagers said as they and another swung a man into the cart.

He wandered over to Mya and Valter.

“Desari?”

“Cleaning up the kills she had in the village,” Mya answered, she pocketed a chain and grabbed the body at her feet by the belt and hauled it over to the cart.

Hedgewick was talking to Clint and looking at a map that had been put on the Baron’s table. The villagers eating the meal that had been put out for him.

“What’s going on now?”

He asked as she returned.

“Hedgewick is going to leave some guards here, then he’s sending people to the capital, going to take over the baron’s position before he’s even announced as dead. Then he’ll have a new head sitting in the baron’s position. One that’s loyal to Limos,” Mya said.

“Word’s been sent by rider and several guards to the caravan their number,” Valter said, looting two bodies. “They’re going to keep heading to the first campsite and set up there. We’ll ride and catch up with them in the night. Heading out in an hour or two.”

He grabbed the duo their legs dragging in the mud as he walked over to the cart.

“What about the traitor?”

“Just beyond the gate,” Mya pointed.

Petor hadn’t seen it for the angle, the man hung from a cross. Don’t think anyone will pull him from that.