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Post by Nedward Underhill on Nov 5, 2008 0:50:22 GMT -6
Chapter 7Copper tried not to grind her teeth as the gang slipped southward towards the Yorgen Farmstead. Good thing her lie called for her to be mad as a hornet. She wasn’t sure she could be much else, what with Jervais’ smug self-satisfaction and Robb’s poor treatment. She didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. It was all she could do not to listen to Robb stumbling and whimpering along behind them. Her hands itched to open the throats of their captors, but there was nothing she could do. Yet. She still couldn’t believe she had been so blighting stupid! Mooning over some boy like some dress-wearing city-dweller, while Jervais slipped round them and prepared for his grand entrance. As soon as he had stepped into the firelight the ignored sounds of the false birdcalls and the accidental rustled branches had come home to her. Too blighting late. Even as she leapt out of the covers, sword in hand, Jervais’ mask was twisted into a condescending smile. They both knew she would never get three steps towards him before one of the fellas at his side, or hiding out in the darkness, shot her down. It wasn’t her they were looking to kill, however. As she had stared into Jervais’ mocking grey eyes she had realized with a cold shock that she had to turn on Robb to save his life. Of course, there had been no time to tell the big oaf. The crossbows were armed and ready, the men’s fingers were tight on the triggers, and their posture made clear that they would shoot to kill as soon as she was clear. Jervais’ arm was held up in a casual manner, but she knew full well that when it came down, the bolts would be released. In a desperate gambit, she had forced a shock of recognition onto her face and then made a malicious smile creep across her mouth. With a near-imperceptible nod, she had rounded on Robb and placed the truesilver blade rough against his upper chest and neck, careful to draw just enough blood to interrupt the gang’s murderous intent. Robb’s eyes had near popped out of his head. She was glad his stutter had paralysed his tongue, but even so, the look of hurt betrayal in his eyes was blighting hard to take. Again and again she jammed the guilt down, but it just bounced back up into her throat. Oh, she had put of quite a show for Jervais and the fellas. She loaded it on, knowing full well that they weren’t like to believe her. When she was done, Robb was whimpering and blubbering, cowering on the ground and bleeding from four places. Two across the chest, one along the side of the neck, and one on the shoulder, all placed perfect for maximum effect and minimum harm. Fact was, she doubted that the cuts hurt much at all. The knife pricks were nothing in comparison to the jabs she had made with her tongue. And even though she did it all to save the blubbering idiot’s life, somehow it didn’t help. As she stomped along beside Jervais in her thrown-on leathers, her own brutal words haunted her: “You honestly figured I could have feelings for a simpering oaf like you?! If you hadn’t had the strength to haul enough food for us to make it through the mountains, I would have killed you in your sleep two blighting nights ago. Fact is I had planned on offing you tonight. But now that these fellas are here, I’ve got a better idea…” She had turned on Robb and treated him like rot. As if he meant nothing. And she did it so well, so easy, that everyone had bought it. She had laughed at Robb with such infectious derision that Jervais’ fellas had up and joined in with her. The crossbows had gone down, the hidden gang-members had come into the open, and Jervais had asked her what she had in mind. In that moment, she breathed a sigh of relief ’cause knew she had them. After all, men were easy to deceive. They only talked two languages: sex and violence. So she gave them a bit of both. She stood over Robb’s quivering body and before the men in her small underclothes, turning and catching their eyes with her sweating body, and breathed the words she knew they couldn’t resist, “Why, surely you fellas have a pit?” Of course they had one. What else was there to do in the middle of nowhere in these Light-forsaken woods? And anyone could see that Robb would make good sport. He had stared at her, incredulous, visions of knife fighting reflected in his terrified brown eyes. Sad, it was worse than he thought. She hadn’t told Robb the whole story of the pit fights. There would be no knife duel against some wiry pit fighter for him. With captives, the pits provided entertainment of a bloodier sort. Stripped naked, the captive would be tossed into a pit filled with ravenous beasts to fight for his life and, most times, be devoured alive. The larger the man the better, ’cause big fellas took longer to die. They had bound Robb’s hands behind his back and he had just lain there like a beached sea thresher. Then, after she was dressed, and after they had ransacked the camp, they hoisted him up in nothing but his leather pants and started off towards the Resistance base camp at the farmstead. It was all she could do to convince Jervais that Robb’s mace and armour could be hocked for decent coin. She grabbed the jerkin she had made for Robb and stuffed it her small travel pack. The rest was left behind. Now, as the fellas shoved Robb along and suggested what sort of wild beast might make the best spectacle, Jervais walked beside her, droning on about his troubles with the local militia and the “haunted” woods. Light, she hated the sound of his voice. It was a condescending sneer that plain advertised the fact that he had an education. Jervais was the bastard son of some minor noble and had defected to the cause half-a-dozen years back. Fact was, he hadn’t fought in a single battle. But the way that he carried on, you’d never know he had nothing to do with the Westfall uprising. What was worse, there had been a time when Copper had fallen for Jervais’ pretensions of style. Three years back, Jervais had managed to insinuate his way into her da’s company for a time. The two of them had discussed politics and philosophy, and Copper had thought Jervais awful clever. There could be little debate that Jervais was rugged and handsome with his dark locks, his muscular physique, and his arresting grey eyes. At fifteen, she’d been young enough to be flattered by his attentions and too blighting stupid to know better than to get messed up with him. She’d laughed at his barbed wit and he had paid for the rounds of drinks. When he pressed himself upon her, she pretended that he wasn’t her first lover. It wasn’t like there was much expected of her. Her first time, and not much to write home about: rough, and dry, and leaving her feeling let down. It had been a short-lived affair, part on account of the fact that Copper soon grew tired of his talking down to her, and part on account of him being packed off to Duskwood. When he left, he kissed her hand goodbye like some fool noble and professed an abiding passion for her. She had just shrugged. She was just glad to see him gone. Now here he was, kneading Robb’s fat coin purse in his palm, lecturing to her about Night Watch patrols and werewolves, and looking down her shirt, just as if nothing had changed. She wanted to draw out her knives and run them through his eyes. Jervais was asking her a question for a second time. She focused back upon him. “You mentioned you came through the mountains. How’d you get there?” The trick with a lie was knowing what your listener was willing to accept. Copper’s mind was running at speed, considering all the possibilities, even as she started to concoct the story. “I was captured in the foothills north of Raven Hill. What was left of it, anyway.” She jerk her head off behind her, not sure quite where they were. Jervais looked at her close, taking the bait. “You survived Raven Hill?” “Just.” She looked up at him and breathed, “What are those blighting things?” “The locals have all sorts of names for them. If you ask me, Stormwind has unleashed a new plague. Did it ever occur to you that they might have been responsible for the first plague, during the war? It’s no coincidence that now that the Resistance is getting stronger, they are testing an new army of the living dead here…” Another irritating thing about Jervais was his blighting conspiracy theories. He droned on and on with some cock-and-bull story about how the plague was just another tool in the Stormwind nobles’ oppression of the common man. Copper was happy to blame the nobility for many things, but even she wasn’t willing to believe that they would unleash an undead plague upon themselves. But Jervais had convinced himself that Stormwind was breeding disease-carriers in Raven Hill in some twisted plan to eradicate all life outside of the white city. Nevermind that the nobility would have no one to farm their food or to pay their taxes without the commoners. Copper pretended to take an interest, and asked encouraging questions, but only to give herself time to plan out the story on how she came to be travelling with Robb. When Jervais ran out of interest in sermonizing on his Stormwind plague theory and returned to the earlier line of thought, she was ready. “But how did a Stormwind guard end up in the woods near Raven Hill?” he asked. “I’ll tell you how it happened, but you wont blighting believe it. I wouldn’t, if it hadn’t happened to me.” She held back, waiting for him to ask for more, and wasn’t disappointed. “We’ve got time to hear it. It’s at least a forty-five minutes walk around the crossroads. And I’ve seen a lot of things you wouldn’t believe in these woods. I think you’ll have a hard time surprising me.”
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Post by Nedward Underhill on Nov 5, 2008 22:11:13 GMT -6
‘All right, Ina, make it good,’ she thought. Then she took a breath and launched in on the con. “This is how it happened. I was paying a visit to Sven, up at his camp? Resistance business; I can’t talk about it.” She held up her hand to emphasize that she couldn’t get into the details. “Anyway, these blighting Stormwind guards must have got wind of our operations, for all of a sudden they came charging into the camp, at least a dozen of them, arresting everyone. Just rotting luck I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, I wasn’t about to sit around and get hauled off to Stormwind for a bogus trial and a hanging, so I took off into the woods. Thing is, as I’m running up the hill beside Sven’s camp...you know the one?...I feel this blighting hot pain in my leg, and there’s an arrow sticking out of it. I turn around and see fat-boy here, and one of his buddies with a bow in hand, charging after me. Bastards winged me. They dogged me; I couldn’t shake them. Still, I made it to the foothills before they got me cornered. Then I carved the archer boy and new mouth in his neck, but Robbie, here, got his weight on me and roped me up like a sheep for slaughter. It was by then too dark to travel.” Best to play to what he believes, she thought, adding in, “…and you know how these blighting woods are haunted,” and was rewarded with a captivated nod from Jervais.
As expected, the fellas ’round them had fallen silent and were listening in. “So there I was, trussed up good and unable to move all night. That alone is enough reason for me to see him bled dry.” A few fellas chuckled, and she rounded on them with eyes flashing, “And if any of you pecker-heads ever tries tying me up, you’ll be giving oral pleasures to my sword!” Rough laughter erupted from the gang at her threat. ‘Good,’ she thought. ‘Keep ’em entertained and you’re most of the way to having them believe it.’
After a pause, she continued, “In the morning, Robbie unties my legs once I promise not to run off…as if I’d blighting run off in these woods with my hands roped behind my back and no weapons. Then he leads me back the way we come; only, he’s such a moron he gets lost. Me, I’m in no rush to point the way. I’m waiting for my chance. And then…it happens. It was the strangest thing, I tell you. There was this old man, some kind of blighting hermit or something, living in a house near Raven Hill, and a couple of those undead…plague spreaders…are attacking this old man’s house. We come on this scene…the dead are breaking the windows and smashing the blighting door down, and I say, ‘we got to do something,’ to save the old man, you know? Mr. Stormwind guard, here, doesn’t care to risk his neck, but I tell him, ‘untie me, I’ll do it.’ The old man is screaming blue murder in his house, it's blighting pathetic. At last, Robbie unties me and gives me my sword. Mr. Knight-in-shining-armour stands waaay back, while I go and cut up the deaders.”
Copper was careful to watch her audience out of the corners of her eyes to see if they were buying it. There was no need to worry. A useless Stormwind guard and a noble rebel was just the kind of rot they loved. Jervais slapped her on the back and then let his arm fall around her, saying, “You always were a bitch with that knife, Copper.” Her skin recoiled at his touch, but she forced herself to pull away real casual, and continued, “By this point we are right blighting lost up in the hills. I know full well that neither one of us can make it out alive…on our own. So, when the old man tells us that it is safest through the mountains, we head out together, with food from the old man. Mule-boy carries the food. I’ll tell you one thing: Stormwinders aint too smart, but they are good at hauling stuff. Lots of practice, I guess, stealing from our people all the time.” There was another satisfying round of grunts from her audience.
Copper paused for dramatic effect, then finished with, “Anyway, when you came along, I had just finished convincing Chubby to take his armour off and go lie down beside me and my sword. I didn’t need a mule anymore and so…hey, it was just about time for the slaughter. But now I’m thinking, why keep all the entertainment for myself? You boys must be bored stiff out here in the middle of nowhere. Who knows, maybe Stormwind guards are good for something?”
The end of the story was met with a murmur of approval from the fellas. Jervais barked a laugh that sounded a bit forced to Copper’s suspicious ears, then slipped his arm around her again. She figured he didn’t care two coppers for her story, and was just laughing to try to get it on with her. Copper decided to let him paw her and then asked him, in the most fawning voice she could manage, “Jervais, what animal do you think would be good for our fat friend?”
“Hmm?” It was obvious he hadn’t been listening. After a second he said, all casual, “Well, lots of giant spiders about…but I don’t know. What if we rustled up a worgen or two?” The fellas about them stiffened. Copper had no idea what a worgen was like, but from their body language it was clear that what Jervais was suggesting something that was difficult, if not impossible, to arrange. “That sounds…perfect,” she breathed, slipping her arm around him.
The long and winding Duskwood Road trailed its way along the southern edge of the Duskwood Mountains, snaking through the forest to connect Raven Hill in the west to Grand Hamlet in the east. At the heart of the forest, a second road forked off to the south, cutting a rough trail down into the Stranglethorn Vale, and ultimately to the seafaring town of Booty Bay, far in the distant south. It seemed that Copper and Robb had made it farther than she had thought, for within minutes of heading out the party came within sight of the Duskwood Road. Jervais, however, turned them away from it and led the way through hidden pathways in the forest, explaining that the Night Watch had set up a permanent sentry point at the crossroads. No point in risking notice, especially with their prize captive. The Watch weren’t much of a threat, and odds were the fellas could kill them without breaking a sweat, but doing so would only draw unwanted attention to their operations. Besides, Jervais said, the sentries served their purposes: they kept the road clear, they sometimes defected to the Resistance, and they provided a steady stream of useful information. Jervais avoided eye contact while he spoke and Copper sensed from his body language that there was an understanding between the townsfolk and the rebels to leave each other alone, likely on account of the shared threat from the brooding forest and its strange inhabitants.
Even with the extra travel around the crossroads, the gang arrived at the farmstead within a few hours hike. As they broke from the pitch darkness of the trees, they slowed to a stop and one of the fellas, Gurt if she had made it out right, let out a low hooting call to announce their arrival. A moment later an echoing call allowed them safe passage. The moon hung large and pale over the overgrown orchards and the several squat buildings that sat heavy in their own shadows. As they padded into the moonlit fields Copper’s sharp eyes made out the hidden sentries lining the fields and, notwithstanding the danger, felt comforted. Pickpockets and assassins the lot of them, but the only family she had ever known.
*****
Copper had been to the Yorgen Farmstead once before. It had been a lot different then. Eight years prior, she had travelled the Duskwood Road with her da, and Hatch of course, and a few other fellas close to her old man. They had been drumming up support for the Resistance and had visited Raven Hill and a few farms in the vicinity, including Yorgen’s, as they made their slow way towards Grand Hamlet. The Forest had seemed lighter, safer then, even at night when they travelled. It’s a funny thing how certain things stick out in one’s memory. Copper remembered how she had enjoyed her birthday at the Yorgen farm. Most of the fellas with her da were tough customers with eyes that were always moving, but one was a skinny white-haired old man by the name of Booker. Later, she clued in to the fact that Booker’s job was to keep and eye on her. At the time, she figured that he must have been smart or something. Even at ten years old she could see that he would be useless in a fight. He didn’t even carry a knife, just a long pine staff with a big knot in one end of it. She already knew all of her old man’s speeches by heart and she had grown bored of listening to them, so while her da was off talking she used to sit on old man Booker’s lap, playing with his staff, and have him tell her stories about the old days before the war began. He was always happy to oblige. He had lost his family to the struggle and she wasn’t Copper to him; she was his ‘little Ina,’ or ‘darlin’,’ or ‘sweetheart.’ He had hard wrinkled skin but soft hands and eyes. A couple years later, Booker had got sick and died, which was a blighting shame, but by that time she was able to take care of herself so she didn’t blubber about it.
The Yorgens were quite a successful Duskwood farming family in those days, operating a peach and apple orchard. It was harvest time, and the farm was busy late into the night with a host of pickers gathering the ripe fruits within the light of great burning torches in the fields. Booker told her that the Yorgens were good people to let her da come and talk, and that many of the labourers were folks who had lost their homes and families ’cause of the Stormwind nobles and their taxes. The Resistance could offer a good future for them. In his soft-spoken way, he impressed upon her that it was important to her da to make a good impression on these folks, so she should stay out of sight and she wasn’t to help herself to the fruit in the orchards unless she was sure that she wouldn’t get caught. Copper had assured Booker that she would be careful, and had picked his old red cotton bandana from his pocket while he was talking to her to show him how careful she could be. He had scolded her, but with a twinkle of pride in his rheumy eyes.
Her da had never been too good at remembering things like her birthday, and what with the confusion of their travels, and the importance of the Yorgen visit, she figured it would go without notice. Still, when she woke up the morning after their arrival she had felt old for being ten, and she filched a little breakfast and slipped out quiet to go explore the orchards. The men and women had worked through most of the night getting the harvest in and those that were up were off listening to the passionate words of her da, so the fields were empty. She had climbed the trees and feasted on the ripe fruit, slobbering the sticky juice all over her hands, face, and down her front. When she had had her fill, Copper had climbed up high to look out over the orchard and had seen a man standing up on the hill overlooking the farmstead. She figured him to be a labourer who had wandered off to avoid working or to get drunk in the woods. Experience had taught her that the laziest workers had the best stories, so, out of curiosity, she slid out of the tree and snuck off to the hill to say hello. As she proceeded up the hill the trees had gathered over her. She was careful to stay out of sight and drew out her knife just to be safe, but there was nothing to worry about. When she revealed herself, the fellow turned out to be jumpy and something of a coward, and he almost ran off screaming before she calmed him down. Turned out, he was a drifter but he wasn’t one of the Yorgen’s workers. Rather, he was a miner working a nearby mine which was called ‘Roland’s Doom.’ It being the weekend, the mine was empty and the jittery fella had decided to sit and enjoy the smell of the ripening fruit before heading off to town, he said. Copper figured he had come to filch something to eat and so she produced a couple of apples from her pack and gave them to him. While he ate, she asked him about the mine. Roland’s Doom was a blighting great name, she said. He didn’t know how it had got its name. Instead, he offered to show it to her, and she had been just about to go with him when Booker had come tearing up the hill after them in a mad flap. She took the stranger by the hand and told him to run, but he just stood there shaking until the old man arrived puffing and wheezing and carrying on about how she shouldn’t be sneaking off and how she would be the death of him and what if VanCleef found out. She told Booker she wanted to see Roland Doom, but the old man had just looked at the shaky fellow and warned him to get off before he told the Yorgens there was a poacher on their lands.
Copper had been sour the rest of the day for not getting to explore an empty mine, but she had forgotten all about it when Booker surprised her with a birthday present that night: her very own bottle of cherry grog. She had snuck sips from the fellas before, of course, but she had never had her own bottle and the burning liquor tasted better than anything she had ever drunk. The next morning she was sick as a dog, but that night, as she got herself pissed, she was wild and uncontrollable and happy as a dwarf at brewfest, and she had passed out in old man Booker’s leathery arms as if they were feather pillows.
*****
The gang broke up as they came into the farmstead. Chad and Valdin, the pair of meaty fellas that had flanked Jervais with the crossbows, had taken on the job of handling the prisoner. Now Jervais gave a nod and they yanked Robb off towards the hulking shape of the farmstead barn. Robb wasn’t doing so hot. He walked with a limping shuffle and his breath came out in a wheeze. Most like, his feet were bleeding from being hauled barefoot through the forest for a few hours. Copper forced herself to keep her head averted. She wasn’t sure she could bear to look at him. Gurt wandered off to chat with one of the sentries. Jervais, who had taken his arm away from Copper and pulled back his mask as they came into the open, turned and invited her to come and have a drink in the main house, whereupon the last two gang members snuck off towards the barn. Jervais was being smooth and casual, but he was hiding something. There was nothing to do but find out what they were all afraid of, however, so she turned and headed off towards the Yorgen’s farmhouse, relying on her old memories to lead the way.
The Yorgen farm was composed of three main buildings, surrounded by several smaller sheds, outhouses and storage silos. Off in the distance sat the long single-storey building that once housed the seasonal orchard labourers. As they made their way through the long grass of the yard, Copper could make out the quiet sounds of laugher and carousing coming from the great barn, marking it as a gathering place for the fellas. Between the two other main buildings, and built upon a small rise in the land, stood the Yorgen’s old farmhouse. It was a well-made three-storey brick building, with a large wrap-around wooden porch. As they approached, Copper noticed that the windows were draped with dark cloth but that there were lights on inside. Two large windows on the second storey dominated the face of the building, and a reddish flickering light inside crept around the heavy material of the curtain, making them look like great red eyes in the darkness and giving the whole building a strange aggressive appearance. Copper paused and her hand brushed against the sword at her side for a second as she took in the building. Jervais walked passed her and up the few steps of the creaking porch. Then, as he reached for the door it opened inward, flooding the porch with red light.
Standing silhouetted in the doorway was a tall woman in a long flowing red robe. She had dark straight hair that fell down limp on either side of her face like sheets of black rain. A thick silk rope was tied around her tiny waist, its tasselled ends hanging down almost to the floor. The woman was too thin, almost sick-looking, and hard cheekbones stood out on her face to either side of piercing black eyes. Her lips were reddened and stood out sharp against pale milky-white skin. She carried no weapon but an unspoken authority was reflected in her stance and in her eyes. Copper stood on the edge of the porch with one foot down on the last step, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as the woman’s eyes flicked from Jervais to look down upon her. She found herself stiffening in the tall woman’s gaze, and her own gaze hardened to match the stare that was levelled at her. For a moment the two women considered each other. Then Jervais stepped up to the woman, took her in his arms and kissed her. Slipping one arm around the red woman, he turned back to Copper to make introductions.
“Elena, my love, let me introduce to you our illustrious guest, Ina VanCleef…or ‘Copper’ as she prefers,” Jervais tipped his hand towards Copper to acknowledge that he understood she disliked her birth-name, before continuing, “daughter to Commander Edwin VanCleef.”
“I see.” Elena broke away from Jervais and stepped toward Copper, a cold glint in her eyes. She had a low voluptuous voice, very much at odds with her wasted appearance and dour looks. “You will come in?”
It was too much like a command for Copper’s taste and she had a hard time keeping her face bland. “After you,” she managed.
Elena swirled away and walked past Jervais into the house, fixing him with a cold stare as she passed. He smiled, putting on that innocent face that men use when they know they are in trouble. Copper didn’t have to guess whether or not Elena knew that Jervais and she had once been lovers. She stalked past him and inside, remembering how out in the woods he couldn’t take his hands off her. Men. Blighting typical.
The air inside the house was close and heavy, suggesting that it hadn’t been aired in years. Right away, the cause of the red glow was apparent. It was obvious that Elena couldn’t get enough of red candles, for there were no lanterns lit, but every nook and cranny of the house was filled with small flickering red glass candleholders. All the surfaces reflected red in the flickering light, as if everything was bathed in blood. The whole house looked like something out of a carnival, the sort of lighting used in ‘horror’ houses where pictures, and costumed actors, and wax statues were used to scare children. Copper scoffed under her breath.
Elena glided into the front living room and placed herself in a large stuffed chair that had seen better days, gesturing for Copper and Jervais to sit on a sunken couch across from her. Jervais obliged her but Copper decided to stand near the hallway leading to the front door, with her back to the wall. Her hand remained at her side. Jervais was looking back and forth between the two women and you could see he was trying to think of something to say to break the ice.
Elena held her eyes fixed on Copper’s. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Ina?” she asked, her tone making right clear that there was no pleasure involved.
Jervais jumped in, looking relieved. “Actually, love, we found Copper out in the woods. It would appear that she was captured by one of the Stormwind guards a few days back and she had just made it through the mountains…” Jervais launched in to the entire story Copper had fed him, only stopping a few times for corroboration and, as usual, remembering the all details. The man had a knack for absorbing information. Copper nodded along, all the while studying the woman before her. Elena sat in the large chair and listened to Jervais droning on with a detached impassive expression on her face. Her eyes were still, like as if she were dead. Elena wasn’t a muscular woman, but she held herself with an odd stillness. Not relaxed; rather, it was as if the robed woman was coiled to spring. Copper found herself rubbing the hilt of her sword for comfort and forced herself to stop.
Jervais finished with, “…so Chad and Valdin took the prisoner off behind the barn. We can deal with him tomorrow.” Then, right satisfied with his own report, he stood up, scratched at his beard, and announced, “But what good fortune for us this is, Copper, to have you here. I think we should have something decent hidden with which to celebrate.”
Elena nodded. “Darkmoon Reserve, for the occasion. Why don’t you fetch it for us, my dear?”
Jervais just about raced out of the room. Elena turned back to Copper and regarded her once more. It must have been the candles, but Copper thought she saw red flames flickering in the eyes of the seated woman.
“Your reputation precedes you, Ina. And do not think that I am such a fool as to not know my own husband.”
‘More fool you,’ Copper thought, but she said, “You have nothing to worry about, Elena.”
“Oh, I know. It’s your safety I’m thinking about.”
Copper blinked for a moment in shock at the veiled threat, and then laughed out loud. What was the crazy bitch going to do? Slap her to death? Beat her with a candle? “I can take care of myself, thanks,” she said at last.
Elena didn’t crack a smile. “I’m sure there are plenty of men more your type at the barn.”
Copper felt her face tighten at the insult. Her body tensed, ready to move and strike. But for Robb, she would have wiped that smug look off Elena’s face with her sword point. Instead, she regarded the tall woman for a long moment before answering, “I think you may be right, Elena. Maybe I’ll go check out the action.”
Jervais returned with a dusty wine bottle, a bottle-opener, and three short glasses. “Here we are!” he announced, holding up the wine. Darkmoon Reserve was hard strong liquor, never cheap, and Copper recognized the bottle as an excellent vintage. To be honest, it was a hard offer to resist.
“Unfortunately, dear, or friend Ina was just excusing herself,” Elena put in, taking the glasses from him and now just ignoring Copper.
Jervais looked up, an almost frantic look in his eyes. “Really? Copper, surely you will be staying with us. There are a plenty of extra rooms…”
It was all that Copper could do to stop herself from shaking, either from laugher or rage she wasn’t sure. Elena’s mad jealousy almost made her want to take Jervais again, just to spite her. And Jervais’ fear of his insane wife was some kind of crazy poetic justice. Putting on her most condescending smile, she answered, with exaggerated courtesy, “Thank you, Jervais, but no. Elena, I know that you have done everything you could to make this old house warm and inviting, what with the…candles…and all, but I couldn’t sleep here. Enjoy the Reserve; it’s excellent. I’ll find my way back to the barn.”
Copper wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and it rankled turning tail. She let the door slam behind her as she left Elena’s house, and stormed off across the moonlit field towards the barn. Whenever Copper felt the need, she would reach back to her oldest memories for strength and focus. Now, almost as if she was pulling out a sharpening stone, she dragged them out again. She closed her eyes and the sights and sounds flooded over her.
*****
She was a little girl, seated on her da’s great grey horse. It shuffled about the yard, far too big for her to control. It was night, but there was no moon, and she shivered inside of her da’s fur-lined cloak. Under its heavy cover she wore only her nightgown. She was confused. Where were they going? A few minutes earlier, she had woken to the sounds of fighting outside her room. She had heard a strange cry, and then the fighting had stopped. Frightened, she had called out for her ma, and then louder for her da. Then he was there, bursting into her room, grabbing her from her bed, and taking her outside to the horse. He had thrown his heavy cloak over her and told her not to make a sound while he ran back into the house. Already there were travel packs on the sides and blankets rolled up on back of the horse, but she was confused. Why were they taking a trip in the middle of the night? Where was her ma? Copper wanted to run back into the house but it was too far down to the ground. Then her da was back. He tossed another pack on the horse and then told her to move up on the horse’s neck. Copper asked him where ma was, but he didn’t answer, just mounted up behind her and pulled her back close to him. He was wearing a fancy black cloak with a hood, but underneath Copper felt hard leather armour covering his body. Something hard poked at her and looking down she saw her da’s sword strapped to his waist. He pulled the horse’s head up roughly and spurred it out of the yard. Copper asked him again, where’s ma? Why wasn’t she coming? He didn’t answer, just shushed her to silence. As they raced down the cobblestone streets she was looking up at his face, trying to understand what was happening. The wind had blown her da’s hood away from his face and she saw that his eyelashes were covered with drops of water. Two streams ran back across his face and he kept blinking as the water poured out. She cried too then, because she was afraid. She had never before seen her father cry.
They raced through the great beautiful city her da had built, through the first gates and out over the great bridge. The horse’s hooves changed from a stony clatter to a rapid thumping on the thick studded wood. Her father was swearing at the horse and whipping it. Two guards stood duty by the last thick walls and they called out, but her da didn’t listen or slow down, he just held on tight to Copper and ducked down so the hood fell over his face again. He was very strong and he was hurting her but she bit her lip and didn’t cry out because he had told her to be quiet. Then they were out of the city, racing down the hillside, as the forest reached up over them and the voices of the guards fell back into the distance. The horse ran on and on, past a sleeping town and deep into the dark forest.
Later, when they were safe and hidden, her da told her. He didn’t want to talk about it, and all she needed to know that something terrible had happened and now her ma was dead. His voice was cold and empty. Copper was too young to understand what he was telling her. Why, she asked? For a long time he wouldn’t answer. Then he turned his eyes to hers and told her in that empty voice that a bad woman had tried to kill them all. Is that why you were fighting, she asked? Yes, he said. He had had to fight. He had tried to save ma but he couldn’t. The bad woman was too strong, and she still wanted to kill da, and Ina too, so they had to run far far away. After that night, her da had never again spoken of the murder. He had refused to speak of it, and she had just given up asking. But she never gave up her desire to find the woman who had killed her ma. She had learned how to climb sheer stone walls, and she had studied how to pick locks. She had mastered slight-of-hand. She had learned how to mix poison, and had taught herself how to slip through the shadows. And she had fought. She had fought for the barest of causes. She had picked fights with men twice, even three times her size. She had fought in the pits to grow stronger, to strike faster, to find weaknesses and to learn how to exploit them. She had worked night and day to learn all there was to know about killing with one driving purpose always in the back of her mind. Her revenge.
*****
A creak of the farmhouse door behind her brought Copper out of her reverie. She was cold and damp from a slight ground fog that played around her feet, and she realized that she must have been standing transfixed for some time, lost in her old memories. Turning, she saw Jervais step out onto the porch, bathed for a second in the odd crimson light that lit the inside of the house. Her mind took in the details even as her consciousness sharpened and the old memories fell away. He was carrying something in his hand, a rolled parchment of some kind just larger than his fist. It was tied with a ribbon that fell down on either side of his hand. The door closed and Jervais disappeared into the darkness. A moment later he emerged into the moonlight and descended the porch steps. He was looking right at her with a curious expression, and whatever it was that had been in his hand was gone.
He walked up to her. “Lost, Copper?” he asked, giving her a slight smile. His body language was relaxed and familiar. So, he was back to flirting with her, though she noted that he didn’t touch her while standing in front of the house that held his wife. The bitter memories had done their work, and she felt an old, familiar, and comforting callousness protecting her again. She gave Jervais a cool look, then turned away towards the barn. She knew he was asking why he had found her standing in the middle of the yard, but it was none of his blighting business so she didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. After a second, he just fell in step beside her and they made their way silent through the wisps of fog toward the thin light of the barn.
As the great wooden shape rose up before them, Copper itched to check on Robb. But though he was close by, she couldn’t right show interest while Jervais was with her. She kept her face bland and walked inside. The barn was warm and thick of the smell of liquor, sweat, and beasts. It had been gutted and part-converted to something of a common house for the fellas. Where there once had been a second floor, now all that was left were a few thick beams running across the room and a small balcony-like wooden platform that ran around the perimeter of the barn reached by ladders hammered into the walls. The vaulted roof was lost in the darkness above them. Where Copper stood, various salvaged items such as barrels, pails, crates and the like had been scattered about to form drinking and gaming tables. A single cracked lantern sat perched up high, shedding a dirty light over the surfaces. The dirt floor was strewn with litter. At the far side of the barn, next to now closed and braced double doors, a few horse stalls still remained intact, their inhabitants shuffling and flicking their tails in their sleep.
Despite the late hour, a couple of fellas were still up, immersed in a game of cards and drinking hard. The cards were being dealt as Copper and Jervais stepped into the room, and the players’ glances towards them showed the determined look of men intent of their gambling. ‘Something valuable up for grabs,’ Copper thought. She recognized Valdin, from the gang earlier, dealing, and as she took in the scene she noticed Robb’s armour piled up nearby, the bright Stormwind insignia on the breastplate strange and out-of-place in the Resistance camp. Jervais had divided the task of carrying the armour to Chad and Valdin back when they had been captured, and now Valdin had decided to parlay the plunder in a game. Copper looked sideways at Jervais to catch his reaction. She wasn’t sure what the rules were at this chapter, but it was normal for the gang leader to divvy up the loot. Jervais hadn’t said anything about giving the armour to Valdin.
In her mind, she had thought to smuggle Robb out of the camp with his weapons and armour. Not only were they worth something, and by rights his property, but also there remained a good chance that they would meet some trouble when they broke for the crossroads. Without weapons or armour, Robb’s escape would be a cartload more difficult. Copper’s mind raced, assessing all the aspects of the scene in front of her. She figured she knew the game they were playing. Back in Westfall, the fellas sometimes played cards for spoils. It was part auction, part bidding war, and part chance. One player, the “auctioneer,” offered the prize and dealt. The hands went around and the players’ wagers raised the total value on the table. The auctioneer never had to make a coin wager; the prize was all he offered. What made the game interesting was that only one player would win everything on the table: coin and prize. Once you were in, you couldn’t leave the table without forfeiting all you had wagered, and so men played hard and the games lasted long. She had seen fellas get so absorbed in the competition that they had far outbid the value of the prize on offer. The auctioneer wasn’t exempt, either. While the game favoured the dealer, it wasn’t unheard of for the auctioneer to be forced to give the prize away for nothing when their luck went sour.
Copper made a quick decision. With a barked laugh, she raised her eyebrow at Jervais, and said, “Your gang, Jervais. Wouldn’t it be your plunder? I didn’t hear you give over…” The game stopped dead. Jervais took in her words and said nothing, but she read his thoughts easy enough. Fact was, he didn’t have the control over his fellas like he should. Her words had just backed him into a corner. Jervais hadn’t given over his claim to distribute the loot, and now they all knew it. Valdin was looking up from the table with narrowed eyes, waiting to see if Jervais called him out. The silence stretched for a few moments. Then Jervais laughed, pulled up a seat at the table, and picked up Robb’s breastplate to examine it.
“This junk?” he said. “Looks like it’s been dragged through the mountains and ripped apart by wolves. Besides who could fit it? A horse?” Then he turned to the table, and asked, “Who’s ahead? What’s the pot at?”
It was a good counter manoeuvre, for a coward. Before the tension could break, however, Copper thought quick and tried another attack. “Or it might by rights be mine …”
Now every eye was upon her, Jervais’ with a touch of quick-suppressed anger.
“I’d like to see you wear it,” one of the fellas grunted, which brought out a chorus of chuckles from the rest. But Copper wasn’t going to give up so easy. She did have a claim, however weak, and she meant to press it.
“I have a right to the blighter’s gear, and you know it, Jervais. I led him into your trap and I cut him. I could have killed him right there, you saw it. I decided to make him sport.” She stood calm and self-assured before them and stared right into Valdin’s eyes, “And I’m making claim for what’s mine by rights.”
Jervais was spluttering. “Copper, it’s junk. Come on now. You can’t be serious.”
Copper just shrugged. Judging by the hour, the amount wagered, and the serious looks around the table, she guessed that Valdin already figured he stood to make some serious coin. He was already half out of his seat, clear with a mind to take up her challenge on the spot. He was a big man. Not as big as Robb, but big enough, with enough scars to make him a decent opponent if it came down to it. Unlike some of the fellas at the table, he hadn’t been drinking, and his eyes were sharp and clear as they stared her down. She let her hand fall down on her sword hilt.
It was obvious that Jervais didn’t want a fight. There wasn’t anything he could gain from it, and maybe he was thinking about what VanCleef might do if Copper were cut up or killed. Lots of fellas made that mistake. Her da had never coddled her, and he wouldn’t rage if she got herself killed. Light knows, she had come close enough many times before and he had never acted concerned.
But Copper wasn’t worried. Besides, she knew she didn’t need to fight to get the armour. She just needed to get in on the game, late though she was. Jervais kept alternately pleading and berating both Copper and Valdin, and anyone else who would listen, trying to defuse the situation. No one paid him much attention. Copper watched Valdin’s eyes, taking his measure. Fact was, part of her wanted to draw him out to see how tough he was, but in the end she broke the silence between them, and said, “I’m just asking to get in on the game. Matching the highest bid, of course.” There was a round of protests from the other players, but Valdin sat back happy. Copper shouldered her way up to the table and was dealt in.
There were a few minor differences in how they played from the way she knew, but it was close enough. Still, there was a lot of coin on the table; she had a long way to go to take control. Before long, she was wrapped up in the thrust and parry of the game. Jervais lost interest and left, leaving the players to sort it out. When he was gone, Copper dropped a question to Valdin about Robb’s mace. Valdin said Chad still had it; he wasn’t selling. No surprise. That mace was worth a lot more than Robb’s oversized Stormwind armour.
The hours ticked by. Copper lost a few big hands at first, but bit by bit, over time, the table started to turn in her favour. One by one the other players gave over and left the table, worn down and too tired to continue losing. Copper’s luck was spectacular, and she acted as surprised as anyone. It wasn’t just luck, of course. Reading the boys’ body language and facial expressions was child’s play, and Copper had her own system of scraping the card-backs to mark them. After two hours, it was just a matter of time before she won. It took most of the night, and when it was done Valdin was ready to murder her in her sleep, but he couldn’t prove she was cheating and there was another fella, Hammond, at the table to vouch for her. Hammond was no longer playing, just watching it play out with a crooked smile. Crazy luck, she insisted with a grin, the entire night’s pile of coins heaped in front of her. She was exhausted, but it was worth it. Valdin threw the cards down and stormed away from the table. He swore something fierce and warned her to watch her back, but Robb’s armour was hers by rights. Once Valdin was gone, she pushed a stack of coins to Hammond to thank him for staying. He pocketed the coin and gave her a toothless grin, telling her he wouldn’t have missed Valdin getting taken like a rube for the world.
No surprise, the next day Copper woke late. She had been too tired to do anything but grab some hay out of an unused stall and make a makeshift bed up in a corner of the rough balcony with her treasure. Robb’s armour was heavy, but she lugged it up, knowing full well that all her hard work might be for nothing if someone came and carried it off while she slept. From her small pack she brought out the leather jerkin she had made for Robb and used it like a blanket. His smell was strong upon it, and she fell asleep thinking about how she would break him out.
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Post by Nedward Underhill on Nov 6, 2008 0:58:00 GMT -6
It was tougher than Copper’d figured to organize an escape. When she woke, she decided that it wouldn't arouse suspicion for her to check on Robb. He was her prisoner, after all, and she could act rough with him again, if necessary. Mostly she wanted to make sure he was okay, but she also wanted to let him know her behaviour had been an act. She would get him out; he just needed to give her some time. When she walked around the outside of the barn, however, he wasn’t there. There was a line of chain tied to a tree that ended in two manacles, and matted grass from where he must have lain, but the manacles were empty and no one was in sight. She couldn’t believe that he had escaped on his own, so after a moment she decided to ask around the camp. Someone would know what had happened to him.
The camp was right quiet. Copper walked past the main house, sagging and unimpressive in the morning light, and wandered over towards the old seasonal workers’ house on the far side of the farmstead. As she approached, she began to hear a low rumble of voices. She couldn’t see through the building as the windows were either boarded up or too smeared, but a line of smoke trailed up from the far side of the long low building, and as she walked around the sounds of eating and talking grew louder. She smelled cooking and her mouth watered. Copper turned the last corner and the scene came into view. Turned out she wasn’t too late for breakfast. Out behind the low sleeping quarters was a fire pit, a stone oven, and a small hut that was home to the gang cook. The remains of a wolf carcass was charring over the fire in the pit, and the cook stood in the doorway, a great carving knife in one hand and a long two-tongued fork in the other. A few rough tables had been set up in between the L-shape formed by the long barracks on Copper’s right, and the cook’s small wooden hut straight across from her. There must have been at least a dozen fellas seated at the tables, eating and jawing with each other. Jervais and Elena were nowhere to be seen however; most like keeping their own company up at the farmhouse. All the better.
A few of the fellas glanced at Copper as she approached, but no one talked to her. The mood was good enough though, and she was glad to be left alone. The cook was a large gal. Not fat; built like a brick oven. She had a patch over one eye, a conspicuous moustache, and arms hairier than most men. Two wooden steps led up into her house, and she was standing up the steps, as if barring the way inside. She held the massive utensils in her hands like weapons and she scowled down at Copper before she spoke.
“You the new gal, eh? VanCleef’s whelp?”
Copper nodded. “Copper,” she said.
“Aight. My name’s Chili, and this is my kitchen. My rules back here. Why aint you eatin’ up at the house?”
Copper read as much as she could into Chili. Everything about her said bossy and rough and petty tyrant over her domain. She hadn’t sent Copper packing or refused her outright, though, which most like meant that Copper had a chance to stay if she played her cards right.
There was no way to know if Chili liked Elena, but Copper took a gamble and answered, “Elena and I don’t get on. I aint staying in that cursed house.”
Copper was rewarded with a scowl that showed a hint of good favour. Chili grunted, “You wouldn’t want to eat their rot anyway. We got wolf, bread, and porridge. And water’s in that barrel, unless you have your own drink. You get one plate; one cup. When you’re done, you wash ’em in that bucket.” She pointed with the fork at a large tin bucket full of brackish water, “Lose ’em, and next time you eat with your hands. And don’t think I aint watchin’.” Chili talked while she worked. When she was done, she shoved a tin plate with a hunk of charred wolf meat and a large roll of unleavened bread on it, along with a tin cup scooped full of porridge, into Copper's hands. Copper smiled. She liked the cook already.
The seating at the tables was made from wooden planks propped between upside-down wooden fruit barrels. Copper took her food, sat down at the end of one table, and dug in. She was real hungry and the grub, though rough and plain, was hot and satisfying. Copper turned over how best to introduce the subject of Robb. Then, just as she was about to speak up, out of the corner of her eye she saw someone get up and head her way. It was Hammond. He sat down across from her and favoured her with a grin, and she nodded in return.
“I figured you to be up at the house,” he said.
Copper started on the porridge with Robb’s fishing knife. “I slept in the barn,” she answered, focusing on the food in front of her.
Hammond grunted, and Copper felt his eyes upon her trying to read her. She answered his unasked question.
“Jervais’ woman didn’t seem to like the idea of me in her house.”
Hammond cackled, then leaned in and whispered, “Elena. You’re best away from her anyway. She’s a bit…off…if you know what I mean.”
Copper shrugged. “Didn’t seem crazy to me. Just seemed like a jealous bitch.”
A few heads turned, curious. Hammond changed the subject. “Well, there’s plenty of bunks down here. I can get you fixed up. We’ll just keep you away from Valdin for a few days…” Hammond then launched into a rehash of the gaming the night prior as Copper went back to her food. Hammond’s tale caught the attention of a few fellas round them, and it was plain to see that he enjoyed being the centre of attention. He raised his voice and became more animated. Copper just kept her head down, not at all sure that he was doing her any favours. When she was done her food, she got up and wandered over to wash her dishes. Chili still hadn’t moved from her doorway, and she just glared down at Copper with her one good eye.
A voice beside her breathed, “Hammond’s an idiot. You’d better be careful getting on Valdin’s bad side.” Copper looked up and saw a woman standing nearby, waiting her turn to wash at the bucket. She was a fair sized woman, about a hand taller than Copper, with a tight-cropped head of brown hair and the bullish look of a determined fighter. A wicked curved blade hung on each side of her solid muscular waist. Though she wasn’t shapely, she might have been considered pretty but for a long scar that ran down from her ear to her jaw. Copper stepped aside and laid her dishes down. To the fighting woman she said, “Valdin’s got no blighting cause against me, I won fair and square.”
“All the same…” the women shrugged.
“I didn’t ask for Hammond’s to start crowing either,” Copper said.
The woman nodded. “Like I said, he’s an idiot. His big mouth has cost him his teeth, and still he don’t learn.”
The other woman finished rinsing and the two of them stood for a moment watching Hammond waving his arms and carrying on about Copper’s wild luck. “Where is Valdin anyway?” Copper asked. “I don’t see him.”
“Jervais sent him and Chad off earlier with the prisoner. He wants the pit deeper.”
Copper kept her curiosity off her face. “Where’s the pit?”
The woman started back to the table. With a nod of her head she indicated off to the south. “Off in the woods, that way.”
Copper wandered back to the table. Hammond seemed intent on going through a blow-by-blow account of last night’s game, but Copper cut him off, “Hammond, it was just a game, okay? Shut the blight up.” Hammond looked hurt for a second, and then a broad grin spread across his face and he cackled again. ‘Light!’ she thought. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be easy keeping his trap shut. When he opened his mouth, she put in quick, “Look, no one gives a rats ass about a game. It’s not like anyone knows me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Copper; everyone knows who you are! But I can introduce you to the fellas…”
Well, the bait and switch had worked at least, though she now had to endure fifteen minutes of introductions. It should have taken maybe two minutes to make introductions, but it wasn’t enough for Hammond to just tell her each fella’s name; he had to add in an anecdote or two. As usual, the folks in the gang went by a motley assortment of first name, last name, or alias. The gal who had given her advice by the wash bucket was named Hella. There was another large fighting gal at the table who went by the name Fox, though it didn’t suit her; she was almost as big as Robb and Copper had mistaken her for a man from the back. The fellas were Gurt, JB, Bird, Sam, Tom, Ratter, Jerrid, Smith, and Farrier. Gurt gave her a familiar nod. JB had long bony hands and the flickering eyes of a pickpocket. Bird appeared to have carved scars all over his body and twirled a throwing knife in his left hand while he relaxed. Sam and Tom were brothers, and looked like they watched each other’s back. Ratter was a deformed half-man with a twitch. Jerrid had a blind eye. Smith turned out to be half deaf, but waved agreeably once someone tapped him on the shoulder. Farrier never acknowledged her. He had a square jaw, powerful calloused hands, and a dark brooding look. As for Hammond’s stories, Copper catalogued all the useful details in case she might need them later.
Hammond was finally interrupted by Jervais’ arrival, Elena sliding along on his heels. She wore a simple black ankle-length dress belted at the waist with criss-crossed lacing like a miniature girdle. Her skin seemed even paler by day than it had by night; it was almost white. She wore no jewellery, and no colour other than her bright reddened lips. Her black hair was pulled back hard and her eyes looked down upon the group with undisguised disdain. Copper felt her hackles rise just looking at the woman. As Jervais approached the group, his eyes landed upon Copper and a broad smile spread across his face. Had he thought she had bolted in the night? A moment later Elena’s eyes followed his and Copper felt the tall woman’s scorn upon her. Copper kept her face still.
Jervais swaggered up to the table, and spoke. “Good morning! I trust you all enjoyed the extra rations Chili cooked up.” He waved towards the cook on her steps. “Thank you, Chili, for all your hard work.” Chili just grunted and turned back into her hut. “Now, as most of you know, we have a special guest amongst us. Two, in fact. Though one is a bit …busy…at the moment.” Jervais stopped and smiled at his own joke, then continued, “But, let me be the first to introduce Copper VanCleef to the gang. Copper…”
Hammond interrupted, “Already done, boss! It’s what I was doin’ when you come up.”
Jervais ignored Hammond. “Copper came to enjoy our hospitality last night. And she did not come empty-handed. No, such is the generosity of our esteemed Commander’s daughter that she brought for us, with a little help,” Jervais indicated himself, “a Stormwind guard. A big fella too. No small accomplishment, I might add, Copper, so far from Elwynn.” Jervais started strutting about, delivering his speech with a flourish. Most of the fellas paid him little mind, but Hammond eyes glistened as he took it all in. The similarity between Jervais and Hammond crossed Copper’s mind.
Jervais continued, “Here in this very camp is a guard, from Stormwind, for our entertainment. But what to do with him? Again, I am indebted to Copper for inspiration. It has been too long since we had a good pit match. But you should see this fella. He has the looks of a fighter about him. And hands bigger than yours, Smith.” Smith just stared off into the distance, unresponsive. “I wouldn’t bet against this fella pitted against a dire wolf, venom web spider, or even a young black ravager. But a worgen, now that would be a fight!”
Several of the fellas had been keeping their eyes away from Jervais, but now all eyes turned. In a flash, Copper realized how the morning had played out. Jervais had called a meeting and had let word out that there would be extra rations. It was a good manoeuvre; the promise of food made a dozen show and fellas with a full belly were more like to volunteer on some fool gambit. With the full attention of the group, Jervais went on, “And now to the point of this gathering: I am putting together a team to capture…alive…a worgen, for a pit fight against Copper’s Stormwind Guard. I don’t need to tell you how fast or how vicious they are. This will not be easy and it is definitely not for the weak of heart. But it is manageable, with a strong crew who are able to go quiet and strike fast. I figure five would do it.” He paused, looking around at each fella as if testing their mettle, then added, “And, of course, I’m not asking you to risk your necks for nothing. There’s a bottle of moonshine in it for any who feel up to it, and two silver’s credit to be wagered at the fight.”
It was a well executed sell, what with the food, the bribe, and the veiled insult to anyone who turned chicken, and Copper felt the urge to volunteer hard in her chest. There wasn’t any point to remaining behind anyway, what with Robb placed under guard and slaving away in the pit. Also, she didn’t want the outing to be a success, else Robb might be fighting, and like as not dying, as early as that night. From everything she had heard about these beasts, he wouldn’t survive long without armour or weapon. Making a quick calculation, she stood and said she was in. Elena scowled even deeper, but Jervais brightened up and looked about at the others as if expecting that Copper’s volunteering was enough to shame anyone who didn’t now rush to join up. A few minutes later they had a gang of six: Jervais, Copper, Bird, Sam and Tom, and, somewhat surprisingly, Farrier. Hammond volunteered as well, but Jervais turned him down, telling him straight out that he would get them all killed with his big mouth. Hammond only gave a toothless smile at the insult, and winked at everyone about him before sitting back down.
They gathered on the far side of the farmstead, up top of the hill where Copper had met up with that jittery fella years ago. Jervais had given instructions back at Chili’s kitchen, and everyone was tricked out and ready. The brothers carried strong hemp nets weighed down at the corners with pockets of lead slugs. Bird had a half-dozen torches and tinder, as well as a row of throwing knives strapped on a belt across his chest. Jervais and Copper carried heavy crossbows gathered from the base’s storehouse, along with a couple of roped bolts each. Farrier had chains and locks and, strapped to and covering his whole back, a huge wall shield. Everyone wore full leather armour, was armed to the teeth, and wore their Resistance colours. Jervais took a second to rehash the plan. A couple hours away was an old abandoned fruit grove, near to the Roland’s Doom mine. The worgen had taken over the mine, and, according to Jervais, were breeding and spreading out unchecked into the surrounding forest. The grove was now abandoned and overrun with the creatures, its owners run off to shelter in town. Most times, worgen hunted in packs. But with luck, and patience, they would find one alone. Then Bird would toss a few knives at it and play bait. When it pursued, Copper and Jervais would let it pass, then shoot and rope it. Farrier would rush and hold its attention and the brothers would get the nets on it. Once down, they would use the torches to fear it, chain it up, and cart it back to the base. Everyone indicated that they understood the plan, except Farrier who remained quiet and aloof throughout.
Copper volunteered her assent to the plan as well, but she was troubled by the fact that she didn’t know the first things about worgen. From their talk, she figured it to be some kind of beast. But was it four legged or two? There had been no way to find out without admitting her ignorance, and Copper didn’t care to encourage Jervais to be more of a know-it-all. She figured it would be pretty obvious once she caught sight of the thing. Besides, whatever it was, it shouldn’t matter too much when it came to landing a shot.
It was the middle of the day when they set off, but the forest was, as usual, dark as night. Jervais attempted to make conversation with Copper at first, but she knew it was just an attempt to get his blighting hands on her, so she didn’t respond. After a few tries he got a sulky look on his face and moved away from her. Bird whistled tunelessly as he rolled his knife through his fingers, but aside from the occasional scraping of metal on metal from the fellas' supplies, they moved in near silence. There was no clear path through the forest, but Jervais and Bird seemed to know the way well enough. Every so often they would stop and the two of them would argue about the right way, but the discussions were short and they made steady progress. The crossbow Copper carried was large and made out of solid oak, the sort that was designed to be planted into the ground before being fired, and after a while she started to feel it. Its leather strap chafed, and she had to shift it around. The ground wasn’t level, but dipped and rose, making the distance twice as far as it might have been on the road, but the road was out of question during the day. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead and into her eyes.
After a couple of hours hard going, and just as Copper began to be convinced that Jervais was leading them in circles, he signalled for them to stop and rest. Copper tried not to look like she was exhausted as she took the water pouch he passed around and drank her fill. They sat still and Copper realized that an uncanny soundlessness had fallen over the woods. The dead leaves that littered the forest floor always dampened sound around them, but this was different. Even a quiet forest was filled with sounds such as birdcalls, or the patter of rodents, even insect noises. In this place all of that was absent, as if a strange curse of silence had been cast over them. A shiver slipped down her back and she had to disguise it by shaking out her hair. Jervais kept turning his head and trying to look in all directions at once. Bird’s fingers fell still for once. He had stopped his whistling and looked like his mouth had gone dry. The brothers checked their nets and sat close to each other. Only Farrier appeared unaffected, still glaring forward at nothing as if the only emotion he could feel was anger.
After a minute, Jervais whispered them to wait while he scoped out a good spot for the ambush and slipped off. He kept low and disappeared into the darkness. The gang brought out their gear in silence. Copper slung the heavy crossbow across her lap and busied herself checking its latches and bowstring, picking out the dirt and leaves that had gathered in it while they hiked through the woods. The overhanging trees were so tangled that there was only the odd thin shaft of light around them, which only served to make the surrounding darkness blacker. It was impossible to see more than ten feet. The air was damp and heavy, and she had to fight against staring off into the darkness around them.
The rest was welcome, however, and Copper leaned back against the gnarled trunk of a nearby tree gathering her strength. After a few minutes Jervais returned, popping out of the shadows like a dark spirit. She must have gotten jumpy even to think such things, she realized, and she scowled at herself. ‘The sooner I put my back to this rotting forest the better,’ she thought, as she knelt forward to listen to his report.
Jervais kept his voice low. “We are close. Thirty yards off ahead the land drops off and the orchard begins. There’s a few worgen packs near the outskirts on this side, but off to the north near the old farmer’s road there’s a good spot for us to get set up. The old house is over there, and I wouldn’t doubt it’s filled with the beasts, so we’ll have to be careful.”
They gathered themselves and headed out, cutting a path north through the woods so as to put some distance between themselves and the roaming packs in the orchard. Copper did a rough calculation and figured them to be maybe two hours outside of the town of Grand Hamlet. She didn’t like the idea of setting up on the road on account of the possibility of being spotted by the local militia. They should be all right out in the open so long as they were quick. It did, however, introduce another possible cause for things to go wrong, which was undesirable. The best operations were conducted with every detail controlled.
The farmstead was quite large, and what with Jervais’ cautious route around, it was a good half hour before they came out of the darkness and into the twilight of the old dusty road that wound up to the farm. The twisted old trees stood like misshapen sentinels on either side, and spread their canopy over their heads, but there was space between each tree and the light slanted in hard shadows from the west. The farmstead was on high land, and Copper couldn’t help but scan off into the distance for anyone who might see them as they came into the open. But though the Duskwood Road was within sight, she saw no travellers upon it.
Jervais used hand signals to give directions, and the crew found cover; Copper and Farrier on one side, Jervais and Bird on the other, and the brothers some distance down the winding road and out of sight. Copper laid the heavy crossbow on the ground and, with a great heave, bent the bowstring back to the catch. Then she fished out both of the corded bolts and laid them down, careful not to disturb the perfect-laid coils. A tangled line would mean not only a failed shot, but in all likelihood a splintered crossbow or broken hand, even if the shot didn’t snap back or whip around her. Farrier grunted behind her and brought out the great wall shield and strapped it on his arm. Copper lay down behind the crossbow and looked over at the others. Across the way, Jervais mirrored her position. She signed that they were ready. Bird roll up his sleeves and cut two great gashes along his forearms. The blood snaked down his arms and a wild gleam came into his eyes as he twirled a throwing knife in either hand. Then, at a gesture from Jervais, Bird padded up the lane and into the orchard.
Copper’s heart was racing as she lay still on the ground, the barbed hooks of the bolt casting tiny shadows upon the oak of the shaft in front of her. Bird must have had some trouble, for minutes dragged on in silence as they waited for the trap to be sprung. The pressure didn’t release however, just continued to mount as the time dragged long. Behind her she heard Farrier’s heavy breath from where he crouched, ready to raise the shield as it lay flat upon the ground. Her eyes flicked to Jervais but he was down behind a line of tall grass lining the pathway and out of sight. All around them the silence stretched taught and frayed. Then, from over her shoulder and up the path came the frantic thumping sound of Bird hauling ass down the road. They had worked out in advance that he would shout out the number following, just in case he pulled too many, and he kept screaming “One!” with every breath as he came. Success. Copper felt herself stiffen in preparation and she laid her head down in line with the crossbow’s sights. Bird tore into view, his leather belt of knives flapping wild as he raced pell-mell down the hill. He was looking back over his shoulder and the whites of his eyes shone wide with fear. For a moment, there was no sign of his pursuer, and then she heard it: the staccato galloping of a clawed beast ripping up the dusty overgrown lane. Copper braced for it to come into view, but just as it came abreast of them is slowed and then stopped.
Copper didn’t move her head as her eyes panned over to take in the beast. There, not ten feet from her stood the worgen. Half-man and half-wolf, it stood with haunches bent and its unnaturally long arms scratching the ground with vicious-looking black claws. A band of light illumined its body, which was covered with long, coarse, matted hair, but its head was in darkness. It was savage, but not a mere beast. Its body was decorated with paint and blood like tattoos, and it was dressed in a tribal loincloth. Bits of primitive jewellery dangled around its neck and on its arms. Its muscles flexed and its head moved back and forth in the darkness, sniffing the air. Then it took another step forward and its shaggy head emerged from the shade. Its face was long and bestial, with a long canine muzzle filled with rows of sharp teeth. Its tongue hung out, panting. Large pointed ears twitched and shook on either side of its head as it brought its head down to the ground. Its eyes seemed to glow red, as if with an inner fire.
Bird had disappeared around the bend, and for a moment all was silent. A small cloud of dust rose from the ground of the path as the worgen exhaled. Its muscles coiled. Then, with an impossible speed, it leapt from the centre of the path and landed upon Farrier. With a cry, Copper released hold of the crossbow and rolled away, reaching for her knives, even as Farrier struggled to raise the shield and the beast bore down upon him, spattering blood everywhere. From across the path came the snap and thrum of Jervais’ bolt releasing, and all of a sudden the worgen howled in pain. A bloom of blood swelled on its leg where the barbed bolt had shot clean through the flesh of the beast and just missed Farrier as well. Jervais cried out for the others even as he yanked hard on the line to hold the leg. There was no more time for thought; Copper’s instincts took over. Her weapons were in her hands and she launched herself at the side of the beast, slashing deep into its arm. Its face had been savaging Farrier’s neck. Now it released his limp body and turned its bloody muzzle towards Copper.
Copper was fast. Faster than any other fighter she had ever met. But this thing before her made her look sluggish. Before she had time to do any more than pull her weapons back into position it was on her, and if it hadn’t been for Jervais’ pulling on the corded bolt that ran through the beast’s leg she would have been down and torn to pieces. As it was, she managed to twist away out of its reach, but not without being gored twice by its razor-sharp claws. Her leather armour tore open like paper and pain confused her mind as blood spattered down her side and back. Eyes flashing red with hate, it struck out at her again, but Jervais was putting all his weight into pulling on the line and the beast howled in frustration and pain as Copper rolled out of reach. She had lost Robb’s knife in the first scuffle, but she held her shortsword out in front of her in both hands.
Behind the beast, Bird released two throwing knives into its back, which caused it to turn away from Copper. Again, it crouched and leapt, trailing the bloody line of cord behind it, to land upon Bird. Jervais was shouting for Bird to get the shield, but it was too late. The worgen bowled the scarred man over and its claws raked into him, turning him into a bloody mass before their eyes. Tom and Sam were running up with the nets as the beast put its head down and ripped away Bird’s knife belt, along with a large piece of his chest. Copper’s crossbow still sat loaded on the ground and she dived for it as the nets came down upon the beast. Jervais was circling round, attempting the wrap the worgen’s legs and bind it, shouting, “get the shield; don't kill it!” but no one was listening. The beast was scrabbling about, pushing the nets off, even as the brothers brought out their swords and began jabbing at it through the mesh. Copper was trying to get a shot, but with the three of them dancing about it was impossible. The speed of the beast, even under the nets and tripped up by Jervais' cord, was blighting amazing.
With a great heave, the beast managed to fling the nets off. Then it rose up to its full height and howled a great bloodcurdling howl. With a sinking feeling, Copper realized that it was summoning aid. If even one more of the things came they were all as good as dead. The call from the beast was so terrible that for a moment the fellas stopped dead in their tracks. Copper had a clear shot and took it. The bolt released, the cord whistled as it ran over the wood, and the bolt struck true. Heavy crossbows like the one in her hands were designed to pierce through armour, and the barbed bolt pierced straight through the chest of the beast and out its back in a spray of black blood. The creature reeled at the impact, and stumbled. Released from the spell cast upon them by the piercing howl, the brothers slashed at the beast again, even as Jervais ran towards the far side of the road yelling to her, “Pull!” Copper grabbed the cord and pulled, running around the tree next to her as she did so to gain greater purchase and guard against being reeled off her feet by its monstrous strength. When it pulled tight, she put all of her strength into holding it taut, not trusting her hands to tie a knot. Jervais had taken her cue and done the same, and a few moment later the beast was hanging limp and bloody, slashed in a dozen places and lying in a spreading pool of blood as it lay stretched with its chest towards Copper and its leg towards Jervais. The red fire faded from its eyes and it lay still.
Even after the worgen stopped thrashing, the gang stood quiet, holding their breath to see if any of the beast’s brethren would answer its call for aid. Copper was caught between her desire to hide and her fear of releasing the tension on the line. But though the gang remained silent and alert for some time, they must have been far enough down the road for safety, for there was no answer from the orchard. At last Jervais released the tension on the rope and the monster’s body slumped down onto the ground, broken and lifeless.
There wasn’t anything that they could do for Bird, but Farrier still hung in there. He was bleeding hard from a dozen places and the worgen had got its teeth into his neck, and at first Copper figured him for a goner, but when she touched him his eyes snapped opened to stare about with a vague anger. His breathing was ragged and hollow, and he wasn’t truly conscious, but it looked like he was just too blighting stubborn to give up and die. No one had brought any bandages, so they tore up the remnants of Bird’s leather armour and bound up Farrier’s gashes as best they could. He was a mess, but then, so were they all, save Jervais. Sam and Tom were covered with blood, half of it there own, and Copper winced whenever she moved.
There could be no doubt that the operation was a failure. Jervais prodded at the worgen’s corpse, hoping that it was somehow still alive, but its life was fled and gone. For her part, Copper was too sore and exhausted to feel satisfied, even if she knew she had protected Robb from being torn limb from limb in the pit. Rot, what a monster! In retrospect, and with the knowledge she had now, she couldn’t believe Jervais would suggest such a thing. She hadn’t realized that her opinion of him could drop further, but the fiasco was by rights laid at his feet.
They gathered up the crossbows and looted Bird’s remains. He had precious little on him: A couple of silver, a pair of old stilettos, the unlit torches, a box of flint and tinder, and a few throwing knives. Not much of a sum total for a life. It was a grim business leaving him on the road to rot, but there was nothing for it. No use dragging his ripped up corpse back to the farmstead. No one even knew if anyone would care much he was dead; he had never talked much about himself.
The trip back to the Yorgen farmstead was long and gruelling. Copper had lost a fair amount of blood, and more than once she stumbled and fell, cursing under her breath. The first time, Jervais tried to help her up, but she had her blade to his neck before he could blink and she snarled out that she didn’t need any blighting help. When he pulled away he called her a bitch, which suited her just fine. Farrier they strapped to the tower shield and the brothers carried it between them. They had to stop and rest up a bunch of times, so by the time they got back at the hill overlooking the old orchard lines of the Farmstead it was way past nightfall. Jervais had lit one of the torches for the last leg of the journey, and Copper stumbled down the hill ahead of the fellas, her shadows dancing long in front of her, lugging the heavy weight of the crossbow along as she fought to keep her feet. Jervais said he would make good on his promise of moonshine, but all she wanted to do was crawl into her little corner of the barn and sleep.
As they came into camp, Hammond came running up to them, his eyes wide in the torchlight.
“Boss, did you get…” He stopped short, seeing their sad state, and Farrier prostrate on the shield. “Where’s Bird?”
“He didn’t make it,” Sam grunted.
Jervais interrupted any further talk about Bird. “Hammond, get Elena, quickly. Tell her Farrier’s hurt badly. And tell her to bring bandages.”
Hammond was about to go, when he turned back and said, “Boss, I need to tell you; somethin’ happened while you was gone.”
Jervais didn’t have time for his prattle. “What?” he snapped.
“Someone broke into the camp! No one knows what he was after. He dug something up from out of the ground over behind the barn, and he talked to the prisoner! Everyone sayin’ he was from town and there’s gonna be trouble.” He began to dash off to the main house and called over his shoulder, like an afterthought, “Oh, and he killed Jerrid!”
Jervais swore, told the brothers to take Farrier up to the house to be seen to, and then headed off toward the barn. Copper ditched the crossbow and followed close behind. As they approached the barn they heard the sharp crack of a whip and Robb’s voice gasping out. Without thinking, Copper started running and her hand flew to her side, all feelings of exhaustion gone in an instant. She turned the corner of the barn in a rush and Robb came into view. He was chained up in the manacles and kneeling in the dirt begging at Valdin, who towered over him holding a dripping whip. Behind Valdin, Chad stood holding a torch to light the scene as Valdin worked. Robb still wore no shirt and his face and upper body were covered with blackening and bloody welts. His eyes flew to Copper’s and a terrified plea for protection shot out and pierced her heart like a knife. For a second she couldn’t keep the shock, concern, and anger from her face. Without thinking, she found her sword was in her hands, which got all eyes upon her. With a great effort she regained control and slammed the knife back into its sheath, her mind working overtime to come up with a way to explain her reaction. Fortunately, Jervais spoke instead, drawing attention away from her.
“Valdin! Blood and darkness man! What are you doing?”
Valdin straightened up slow, a cruel grin spreading across his lips. “Why, just getting some questions answered by Copper’s boy here.”
Copper tried to tear her eyes away from the lash marks on Robb’s body, without success. Her blood was boiling, and she swore to herself that she would kill Valdin before she left the camp.
Robb sank down on hands and knees, whimpering, “P-p-please…,” but it only brought another whip of the lash from Valdin, along with a snarled, “Was anyone talking to you? You keep your mouth shut.”
Jervais sighed, “Enough, Valdin. Tell me what you’ve got from him.”
Valdin turned away from Robb with a sort of slow insolence. “Well, I ain’t got to asking questions yet.”
Both Chad and Valdin were much larger than Jervais, and it was clear they considered themselves his better. Valdin drawled out his words with clear disrespect. If Copper had been gang leader, Valdin would have found himself called out and gutted for half the insult.
From the marks on Robb’s body, they had been at it awhile. Coppers hands clenched and she snapped out, “How long have you been working him?”
Valdin didn’t deign to look at her, but responded to Jervais, as if he had put the question. “Dunno exactly. Five minutes?” Over his shoulder he asked, “What d’ya figure Chad?”
Chad grinned. “Yeah, I’d say about that. Probably need another five minutes to get him ready to talk.”
Both fellas laughed at their joke, but Jervais cut them off. “We don’t have time for that. Why do you think he knows anything?”
Valdin got a shifty look, as if he was hiding something. “We got an unwanted visitor in the camp today. While you were gone off,” added, as if it was somehow Jervais’ fault. “The Stormwind Stammerer, here, saw the intruder, didn’t you?” Chad smiled at the name they had given Robb. So, they had discovered Robb’s stutter. Copper winced, knowing that these fellas were the sort to make great sport of such an obvious weakness. Robb would have been better to keep him mouth shut. Perhaps it hadn’t been possible.
Robb was dizzy from their rough treatment. His head hung down and he failed to respond. Valdin hit him rough on the back of the head. “Now I’m talking to you!” Robb looked up with a tearful confused expression, but still said nothing.
Good thing Jervais was tired and impatient, for before Valdin could backhand Robb again, he said, “Come on, Valdin, you’ve had your fun. Get to the point.”
Valdin cuffed Robb anyway, though without much spirit. “The fella snuck in from back in the woods,” he pointed to the south, “and dug something out of the dirt, there,” he pointed off ten feet away, where a pile of fresh-turned dirt lay beside a small hole. He paused for a second, and finished, “This scum seen the whole thing, and talked to him, no doubt.”
Now the reason for the reluctance and evasiveness, and in all likelihood the beatings as well, started to come clear. Valdin and Chad hadn’t been watching Robb. They were guessing that Robb knew something because they hadn’t seen what had happened. As they had been set on guard duty, they were out of line. Copper looked to Jervais, but he gave no sign that he realized anything. He just stood there looking at both big men, and then said, “Get out of here. I’ll talk to the prisoner myself.”
For a second Copper thought Valdin was going to refuse to go, just on the principle of refusing to obey any order from Jervais, but then, with a shrug and a crack of the whip off towards the barn to shake the blood off, Valdin nodded his head to Chad and they headed off.
Jervais turned back to Robb, who was still shaking on the ground. “Robert, look at me.”
“Robbyn,” Copper corrected. A trickle of blood seeped out of Robb’s hair and dripped on the ground, but he didn’t respond.
“Robert, here. Focus,” Jervais ignored Copper and snapped his fingers, impatient. Robb was still having a hard time focusing, but he lifted his head to Jervais. His eyes kept flicking back to Copper.
“Robert, tell me who you saw.”
Robb licked his bloody lips, and tried to speak, “J-j-j-” He ground to a halt and tried again, with equal lack of success.
“I don’t have time for this!” Jervais snapped.
Robb cowered back, but managed at last to squeak out, “…Just one man! I d-d-d-”
“Yes?”
“I d-don’t know wh-who he w-w-”
“…was?” Copper prompted, unable to take it any longer. Robb nodded.
“Describe him,” Jervais said, and then corrected himself, “Nevermind. It will take too long. Was he wearing a Darkshire crest?”
Robb looked blank. “Darkshire?” he asked.
Jervais waved his hand in frustration. “A lion’s head, in blue.”
Robb shook his head, no.
“Was he Night’s Watch?” Jervais’ voice was raised and frustrated, but anyone could see that Robb couldn’t concentrate enough to answer even if he had known what the Night Watch colours were. He just stared at Copper and blinked away the blood and sweat in his eyes.
Jervais grabbed Robb by the jaw and forced his eyes away from Copper and towards his own face. “Light! Do you want me to call Valdin back? Focus! Which way did he go?” Robb sagged in Jervais’ hand and his eyes looked off towards the woods in the east. “That way? Towards the town?” Jervais barked. But Robb was fading fast. His eyes slipped up into his head and he slumped down into the dark stain of bloody earth beneath him. “Light take it!” Jervais cursed. “Useless!” He stood there for a second, staring at Robb’s limp body, then said to Copper, “Come on, we need to call a meeting. Let's get everyone together in the barn. We can figure out what to do with him later.”
Copper berated herself for leaving Robb. She should never have left him in the hands of pigs like Valdin and Chad. His great pale body lay bruised and bleeding on the ground from more cuts that she could count. It was all she could do not to take him in her arms. She couldn’t leave him, not now. Jervais had already started moving off, but when he called over his shoulder for her to follow, she mumbled, “Just a sec. I'm going to try to get something from him. I’ll catch up.” She heard Jervais grunt and continue on around the corner. Copper didn’t turn her head; she couldn’t look away from Robb. She stood for as long as she could, trying to wait until she was sure to be alone. Then she fell on her knees beside him. Tentative, she put her hands on his cuts, tracing them, feeling the glistening warmth of his blood on her fingertips. She just took off her bandana and began to dab at the blood, cleaning his face and neck. A deep well of sadness washed up inside of her and she bit her lip to keep it in check, without success. The world swam before her as her hands feathered over the broken lines of his skin. On the other side of the barn walls she heard the men gathering inside, but she didn’t move from his side. She pushed rough at her eye, and cursed herself. Unbidden, the words broke out of her, “My fault…my blighting fault…”
He stirred then, and opened his great brown eyes towards her. His eyelids were heavy, but he fought for consciousness, and his lacerated arm reached up to touch her. “Copper?”
She took his hand in hers and held it to her face. It was warm and wet from his blood, and the smell of his sweat was heavy on his skin. “I’m here,” she whispered.
“Oh,” he managed. “Good.” Then his eyes closed again and he slept.
His arm fell limp, but she held his bloody palm to her face for a long time. And though she fought back the tears that welled up in her eyes, one managed to break away from her control to slip down her cheek and soak into his hand. The rumble of mutterings from inside the barn rose and fell as the fellas gathered in force. By the sounds of it, near the whole camp was inside. Copper knew she needed to go in as well; someone might come and look for her at any moment. If only Robb was well enough to run! There was nothing she wanted more than to escape with him and make a break for the Crossroads, but the brutality of the beatings made it obvious that Robb wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Reluctantly, Copper released Robb’s hand and left him lying in the darkness.
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Post by Nedward Underhill on Nov 6, 2008 21:15:56 GMT -6
Near the corner of the barn was a rain barrel filled with stagnant water and Copper splashed the blood and stains off her face before going around and inside. The place was already filled with fellas, sitting about on the various makeshift chairs, standing, even sitting up on the balcony. Copper climbed up as well, so as to find a place where she might get her back to the wall and also to make sure that no one had made off with Robb’s armour. She was glad to see that her nest in the corner was untouched. Jervais was working the room, talking first to one member, then the next. As Copper settled into place, she looked down and was surprised to see even Elena was down below, sitting at one of the tables near the front. A quill and parchment sat in front of her on the table. If she felt Copper’s eyes upon her she didn’t show it. She sat still as a coiled snake, robed in a dark velvet dress that swooped down low and showed off the pale skin of her cleavage. Even with her display, no one sat at the table with her. The fellas gave her a wide berth.
Finally, Jervais got up on an overturned wooden crate and called for everyone’s attention. After a minute, the voices began to die down. Jervais looked about, made sure he had their attention, then put on a confident face and began. “All right. All right. Fellas, glad you’ve come. As you all probably know, someone broke into our camp today. We don’t know why, or what they were after. Now I’ve talked to a few of you already, and so I know a few things. Unfortunately, our best source of information, the guard, is unconscious.” Jervais paused, and looked about. Valdin and Chad didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. After a moment, Jervais continued, “Still, there’s no reason to be convinced we’ve got trouble coming. After all, the towners have a lot of other things to worry about. What we need to do is go over the details of what happened. Then we’ll make a plan. Alright. Let’s start at the beginning.”
Hammond spoke up. “The first thing was Jerrid’s scream out back.”
“Out back where?” Jervais asked.
“Back of the barn. We was playing some cards, as it was fogged up and no one could work anyway, and Jerrid went out to check on the sound we heard…”
Hammond trailed off, realizing too late the implications of what he was saying. The smug look on Valdin and Chad’s faces had evaporated, and Copper felt her spirits rise a bit. Jervais was an arrogant ass and a coward, but he had guile. Drawing the story out in front of the entire gang would work to humiliate the two fellas who’s job it was to guard Robb. Meanwhile, it was only reasonable to get the facts out.
Jervais prompted for the details, showing no knowledge of what he was doing, “Check on the prisoner? Chad?”
Chad muttered, “We just came in a for a few minutes after lunch, to get out of the heat.”
Chili put in from the back, “There weren’t no lunch today. Not after than big late breakfast.”
“And it weren’t hot out,” Hammond added, and then added, “…much,” when he received a murderous glare from Chad.
“Well it would have been hot if you had been slaving away all morning digging in the pit,” Valdin snapped.
There was a general disbelieving murmur from the gang, and someone said, “As if you blighting picked up the spade.” Copper didn’t make out who spoke up.
Before the muttering could get out of hand, Jervais broke in with, “Okay, who was inside the barn when it happened?”
Gurt put up his hand, and Hammond, who put in, “It was just the five of us.” Chad and Valdin didn’t put up their hands. They just sat glowering.
“You two, Chad, Valdin, and Jerrid,” Jervais stated.
Hammond nodded. “We was dicing. Jerrid was already out of it, and when I heard a noise, V…ah…someone told him to go a check it out.”
“What noise?”
Gurt put in, “It was a scraping sound, we didn’t know what it was at the time, but it must have been the fella diggin’ the dirt. Probably with his weapon, or shield, as we didn’t find a spade or nothin’.”
“About was time was this?”
Elena answered, “It was about four in the afternoon when they tried to bring Jerrid’s body into the house. It’s still on my porch. Someone needs to take it off.”
Jervais considered her words for a moment, and then said, “Let’s go back to the stranger. Jerrid goes outside, then you hear him scream, then what?”
Hammond opened his mouth to speak, but Valdin talked over him. “Chad and I were there first. We come round the barn and sees Jerrid down and bleeding all over the place. Then we sees the fella over by the prisoner. He was a little pecker inside of a big suit of armour. Sword and shield type. He was working at the cuffs, trying to get them open and he’s talkin’ a league a minute to the prisoner. Then he looks up and sees us all coming and he takes off into the woods. We would have had him too, only he had a horse in there. Next thing we know, he’s coming at us out of the trees. By the time we get out of the way, he’s up the hill and gone.”
Jervais listened close, then asked, “Did he have town colours?”
Hella, the woman Copper had met by the washbasin spoke up. “I was on sentry and saw him barrel past. He definitely had the Darkshire crest on his shield.”
A mumble of voices rose at this new information, and Jervais waved his hands for attention. “Listen. Everyone knows that Ebonlocke hands those shields out like candy to anyone who helps the Watch. Adventurers all over have them. It still doesn’t mean we’ve got trouble. Did you see which way he was headed?”
“Yes,” she answered. “To town. I’ve heard enough. What are we going to do about it?”
It was clear that Hella spoke the mood of the group. More than one voice shouted out support for her question. Jervais was making a botch of it, looking nervous and uncertain. Valdin took the opportunity to put in, “They’re blighting cowards and soft. If they come, we’ll just kill them.”
Jervais raised his voice. “Did anyone hear what was said between the prisoner and intruder?” There was silence for a second, then Hammond piped up, “I think I heard the prisoner shout out, ‘Jonathan’ as the man ran off.”
Jervais wheeled upon him. “Are you sure? Did any one else hear that?”
Gurt nodded, and said, “Yeah, I heard it.”
As soon as Gurt confirmed it, everyone started talking at once. The room was a din. Jervais was yelling for everyone to calm down but no one was listening. General Jonathan was well known, and well feared, by the fellas. No wonder. He had given the Resistance some of their worst thrashings over the years. Most times, he didn’t take prisoners. When he did, he hung them up along the roads as gruesome displays of his authority and power. For her part, Copper realized that it was worse than even the fellas knew. Robb would have revealed his identity to the intruder. The horseman would be even now in town, carrying word of Robb’s location. The General’s response for the capture and torture of his son would be great, swift, and brutal. Chances were, they only had a few days to live, and no one would be left alive in the camp when they were done with it, including her. She would be wise to sneak off now, but she couldn’t abandon Robb until he was recaptured. The gang might kill him out of spite or use him as a hostage, and Copper knew that for the most part such hostages ended up dead before the slaughter began.
Elena stood up and her voice cracked over the group. “Quiet! We will make a plan and we will kill who we have to.” Her voice had a strange quality to it, almost like it had a deep echo within it. A chill ran down Copper's spine. Every one of the fellas fell dead silent. Those close to Elena pulled their bodies away from her.
Jervais looked nervous as well, but he took advantage of the quiet to regain control. “Alright. Like I say, there’s probably going to be no trouble, but we are going to take this seriously. Here’s the plan. We will break out the storeroom and set up the crossbows on the roofs. Fisher, JB, and Copper will work the crossbows; one on each of the main buildings. We’ll also double the sentries. Hella, Gurt, Raven, Benlin, Anderwall; you are one team. Cahir, Allain, Hammond, Hauler, Shain; you are team two. Twelve hour shifts. Ratter, I want to out scouting the road and checking back every six hours. Everyone will gear up. Elena and I will keep the lights on in the main house so as to attract any attack there. If anyone comes we let them in, then close the trap behind them.
Chad put in, “Only leaves about six of us for heavy fighting. That aint enough for anything serious.”
“There’s twenty of us, and if we are well prepared, and use the dark to our advantage, we can take at least that many towner’s with us.” Jervais answered. “But just to be safe, we will send a bird over to Addle’s Stead, and ask them to sent support. They owe us.”
“What about the prisoner?” someone asked.
To Copper’s relief, Jervais replied, “We’ll keep him alive for now. He’s worth more as live bait than dead. Valdin, I want you and Chad to tie him up on the house porch. Make sure he can be seen, but gag him so he can’t warn anyone.”
It wasn’t a bad plan, given how quick Jervais had thrown it together. More to the point, just having a plan gave the fellas comfort. The angry tone in the rumblings subsided and everyone started gathering into the groups Jervais had described, the strong personalities taking over and issuing instructions to the weaker. Copper watched Valdin and Chad stomp out and felt an immediate impulse to make sure they did no more harm to Robb when moving him. But even as she stood to follow, her eyes were drawn to something else. Down below, Jervais had stepped down from his makeshift podium and was now leaning over Elena’s table. They were talking together and he was writing out the message that they would send over to the Addle farmstead, off to the west.
The Alliance kingdoms operated an efficient and far-reaching mail system. With the help of the dwarves in the north, they had managed to domesticate and harness flying gryphons, and mail carriers flew from all over gathering and delivering mail. All mail within the southern provinces was routed through Stormwind, and before being delivered every piece of mail was read by the Stormwind secret service. The Resistance couldn’t trust the mail with anything sensitive, and either had to use couriers or, when urgent, had to have messages delivered by homing pigeon. All of the chapters had cages, and had birds trained for as many places as possible. It was a delicate art, training birds, and the luckier places had birdmasters to care for and train them. It was just such situations as the one Jervais’ gang found themselves in where having a bird ready to fly to a nearby chapter could mean the difference between life and death.
The reason why Copper stopped short and stared down at the table wasn’t because Jervais could send a bird. It was the parchment that caught her eye and stopped her while halfway to her feet. The parchment on the table was small. When rolled, it would be just longer than the palm of a hand. At the top of the sheet two long silken threads looped through carefully made holes and snaked upon the table. Copper had seen just such a parchment before. After she had been tossed out of Elena’s house, and as she had stood lost in thought in the yard, Jervais had come out of the house with a parchment in his hand. She remembered seeing the ribbons hanging down. But the parchment had been gone when Jervais had emerged from the darkness of the porch and approached her. Copper's instincts were firing a warning as the pieces clicked into place. What message had he been sending? Did it have anything to do with her? She straightened, her mind scanning back over the last day for any other clue. Jervais had left them playing cards; Copper had thought nothing of it at the time. But in hindsight, it dawned on her that he could have sent a message off last night. Then there had been the look on Jervais’ face when he saw her at the breakfast table. For some reason, the thought had popped into her head that he was relieved to see that she hadn’t buggered off in the night. Also, he had seemed awful glad she joined them on the hunt. Was it all coincidence? Not blighting likely.
Copper had good reason to be suspicious. She had known that her da wouldn’t agree with her plans even while she was forming them, so she never told him anything. She sure hadn’t ever breathed that her plan was to head into Stormwind, the very heart of the nobles’ power, to find her mother’s killer and slit her throat. It sounded like a headstrong reckless scheme that was almost guaranteed to get Copper killed. To any ignorant uncaring observer, it was just such a plan. And she knew that her father would see it just that way and that he would forbid it, by force if necessary. He had no idea that avenging her mother’s death was the object that had fuelled her existence for twelve years. He couldn’t understand. After all, he wasn’t even willing to talk about the murder. He also didn’t know that she was ready. But she knew she was ready, whether he would like it or not, and so she had snuck out in the night to pursue the destiny she had chosen, rather than the one he rambled on about.
But her da was no idiot, and he had an almost supernatural way of knowing things he had no right to know. Also, those close to him, in particular the ones initiated into the Brotherhood, were fellas to be afraid of. She had wondered if he would use them to find her and stop her. True, she hadn’t expected Hatch to be given the job, but she had expected to be hunted. Even though she had never told a soul of her plan, her gut told her that somehow VanCleef would know. But she was his daughter, and she figured she knew him well enough to out-think even him. She hadn’t headed straight for Stormwind, like he would expect. She knew he had spies and contacts there, and she wasn’t about to go to all the effort of stealing into the white city only to be bagged, trussed up, and trotted back home like a child. That was why she had headed to the Elwynn logging camp in the first place. And that wasn’t the only thing she had done to hide herself. She had left almost a dozen false trails, each of which should have taken several months to unravel. She dolled herself up in frilled outfits and she had changed her name. Her plan had been to lie low, wait until the worst of his anger had passed, and then, only then, would she move in on her goal. It still pissed her off to think that with all of her planning and all of her effort, she had still been ratted out and captured. One of Jerod’s men had worked at the camp by day and somehow recognized her. Her da must have made the price on her head pretty blighting high to get fellas like Jerod and his men wanting to get involved.
And if Jerod had been enticed, there could be no doubt that Jervais would hand her over in a heartbeat. She well remembered his snivelling worship of her da. The way that he would parrot every tenet of the Resistance back, the way he would listen like a dog to everything her da would say, the way he knew every detail of the Resistance history, every battle won or lost and how and by whom. What was more, while Jervais wasn’t a knight, he was an initiate of the Brotherhood. Copper had always figured Jervais’ pandering of her da was his pathetic attempts to be initiated into the inner circle. As she ran over events of the last day in her mind, Copper was forced to admit that she had been lying to herself. She had been telling herself that Jervais’ old feelings for her would overshadow his sense of duty, or his ambition. But as she stared down at the parchment on the table her chest constricted, almost as if her body felt a rope tightening around her. VanCleef might even now be riding to the camp to retake her. Or worse, he might just be sending his men. Men like Hatch. The harsh lesson she had been dealt with her own sword back at Jerod’s camp made clear that things could get very ugly for her very fast.
Copper fought down her rising panic. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. She was acting like a blighting child, letting fear take her. She wouldn’t panic, not without proof that Jervais had betrayed her. But how to get what she needed to know? She wasn’t fool enough to think she could trick Jervais into giving up the truth; he may well have been playing her for a fool since her arrival. Him and that bitch Elena, laughing at Copper behind her back, most like. Focusing back on her surroundings, she realized that she had been staring down at the table for some time, and with a shock she realized that Elena’s black eyes were looking straight up at her. A palpable hatred burned into her from those eyes and Copper turned away, embarrassed that she had been caught staring. She hoped that her face hadn’t given away her thoughts. No doubt the taller woman now also blamed Copper for all of the gang’s troubles. However, thinking about Elena reminded Copper about the candle-filled house, and that led her mind to the idea of taking a look around inside to see what she could find. Orders from VanCleef would have been kept. Copper nodded to herself. All she needed was the right opportunity, and then she would find out whatever there was that Jervais might be hiding. And there was a perfect opportunity right to hand. She slipped down the ladder and went off to join Fisher and JB, to divvy up the rooftops, and make sure she got the farmhouse.
By the time Copper emerged from the barn, Valdin and Chad had already unchained Robb and dragged him over to the main house. On either side of the porch steps stood thick wooden supporting pillars and the fellas had strapped Robb up against one like some kind of bloody decoration on the front of the house. His arms were pulled back and lashed together on the other side of the post, and his feet were pulled tight against the back of the step, wrapped in rough cord that bit into his skin. Even across the yard, Copper could see that Robb was terrified. His body shook out of control, and he was grunting pathetically behind the red bandana they had stuffed in his mouth. Copper kept her face blank and impassive.
It was child’s play to convince the other two that she should be given the job of setting up on the main house. In fact, both Fisher and JB seemed relieved when she said she would take centre. Fisher was a small wiry woman with the sharp eyes, thick arms, and calloused hands of an archer. JB kept pulling back from the two of them as if he expected one of them to grab at him. After a brief discussion, they agreed to help each other hoist the crossbows in place. Copper headed off and retrieved the heavy crossbow from where she had tossed it aside out behind the barn while Fisher and JB gathered up the other crossbows from the storeroom under the main house, along with a length of rope to hoist the weapons in place.
It was no simple matter getting the crossbows set. Positioning one up on the barracks was easy enough, on account of it was a low single-storey building with a broad, almost flat roof. However, the barn and farmhouse weren’t so easy. The massive barn was tall, inaccessible, and its roof sloped off steep on either side. At first they were stumped, but at last they found a long ladder inside and Fisher managed to scramble up and into place. It was precarious climbing up, but the top of the roof was about level. JB refused to climb up, telling them they were crazy to risk it, but Fisher said she liked the view. With Copper’s help, she managed to haul the massive weapon up the side of the building. Last, they assessed the farmhouse. The top of the house rose up to a point, making roof placement out of the question. They considered placement inside the house on one of the two massive windowsills, but Elena wouldn’t hear of it, and in the end Copper set up the weapon on the roof of the porch. By the time they were finished it was almost morning and the hard labour, lack of sleep, and her earlier injuries at the hand of the worgen had taken a serious toll upon Copper. She was so exhausted, in fact, that when she clambered down from the porch she put too much weight on her injured arm and a gasp of pain slipped out from her clenched teeth.
Fisher’s sharp eyes flicked over Copper’s ragged armour and open wounds. “You better get that patched up,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
Fisher shrugged. “I heard it didn’t go well with the worgen.”
Copper nodded. “Blighting stupid, trying to capture it.”
Fisher didn’t argue. Instead, she turned towards Robb to study him. He had stopped crying and moaning, and though he remained bound to the pillar, his body sagged and his head hung limp as he slept. Two bright torches burned on either side of him, lighting him up like a gruesome beacon. “Not sure it would have been much of a fight anyway,” Fisher said.
“From what I hear, he’s nothing but a coward,” JB put in, joining them.
Off in the darkness of the porch Chad sat on watch. Jervais had made sure Valdin and Chad knew that one of them was to watch Robb at all times. They had objected some, but the public shaming had done its work and they grudgingly obeyed.
Copper rose to Robb’s defence, a bit too hot, “Don’t be so sure. If he weren’t beat down by Valdin and Chad, he could handle himself.” Then, knowing she shouldn’t appear protective, she added, “Rot! No one in this chapter could take on one of those monsters, trust me.”
Attracted by her words, Chad snorted and came to the steps to prod at the Robb’s face with the Stormwind mace. “It would have been something to see though, eh Stammerer? All your body parts flying apart? We could have played hack-ball with your head if it wasn’t smashed.” The taunt was wasted. Robb was dead to the world, for his head just dropped back down.
Copper’s eyes flashed in the darkness. “Get that mace away from him!” And then managed, “…I’m sick and tired of listening to him bawling,” finding a plausible outlet for her rage and frustration.
Chad looked at her, then jabbed Robb’s face with the mace again, this time more rough. There was a soft thud of impact on bone and Robb’s head cracked against the wood, his eyes snapping open in pain and fear. “What do you care?” Chad scoffed. “You’re leavin’ anyway. Piss off.”
Copper stared up at the big man, too exhausted to think straight or to cover her anger. Before she could stop herself, she barked, “You are a blighting thief and coward, Chad, and you wouldn’t last ten seconds in the pit with me.”
It was a clear challenge and brought Chad up short. His mouth closed in a smug grin even as his eyes narrowed. Then he began to saunter down the steps towards Copper, tapping the mace against his hand. Copper’s weapons were in her hands in an instant, and she watched his body language close, measuring his potential attacks. Fisher and JB backed off. When Chad got just out of arms reach, he growled, “You think no one can gut you ’cause of your old man.”
“Rot, no. I think you can’t gut me, ’cause you’re an old man.”
Copper stepped away from the house and began to prowl around Chad, studying the movement of his muscles. Chad stood calm before her, but he watched her every move. He stopped tapping the mace in his hand. Copper could see he was ready to fight her, but she could also see his overconfidence. He was, after all, a big man. He must have had at a good hundred, hundred-fifty odd pounds on her. All the better, she thought. Her weariness and pain melted away as the thrill of the fight rushed through her, and she focused her thoughts on the kill. Chad turned towards her, lofting the mace into place. His other hand clenched and unclenched. Copper read him. She felt a familiar buzz come over her; a certainty regarding the way the fight would play out. He would try to get his left hand on her and then bring the mace across her chest to break her ribs. But she would be behind him by then, and his neck would be open.
“Three,” she said.
“Is this a countdown?” he scoffed.
“No.” She stared at him and promised, “Three moves. Then you’ll be dead.”
For a second she saw a tinge of doubt in his eyes. Then he barked a laugh and turned his face halfway to their spectators. “Is she for real?”
It was a trap. He was turning away, pretending to be distracted, and keeping his body language cool, but he was ready. She wasn’t deceived. His other hand was up and ready to lash out towards her wounded arm when she stepped close. Even if he only got his hands on the ripped pieces of her shoulder armour, he could use his greater weight to control the fight. She didn’t care. She saw the trap and knew she was faster than it. Spinning the knife in her left hand to a reverse grip, she leapt forward into Chad’s reach. As his brawny hand struck out, she felt a familiar inner stillness descend upon her. Now she was in perfect focus. Her body reacted smooth, powerful, and without thought. With a killer's grace, her shortsword stabbed out to deflect his hand and open up a deep gash in his palm. Then her other hand shot across her body and the pommel of her knife smashed into Chad's temple. His head was flung aside even as a dazed look came into his eyes. As he staggered back, Copper dashed forward in a crouch, slipping beneath his flailing arm even as her weapons rose up and over her head. Then she was behind him, twisting around to face his back and her weapons were both in front of and above his head, slicing down towards his exposed neck. He would have been dead if she hadn’t forgotten about her injuries. As she brought her arms up and as she twisted her body around, pain exploded into her mind, shattering her focus. She stumbled back and cried out as her blades missed their mark. Two long gashes appeared in Chad’s neck; enough to send a spray of blood down his chest but not enough to kill him. He stumbled out of her reach and onto his knees before her even as she fell back against the porch, further opening her wounds and causing her head to spin.
When her vision cleared, Fisher was beside her, holding her down and whispering urgent in her ear. For a second she couldn’t understand what she was saying, but then it registered. “Don’t kill him! Jervais and Elena will sacrifice you! We’ll need every rotting body if the Watch comes at us. You made your point. Come on, let’s go.”
Chad was still on his knees. His hands were on his neck, trying to hold the blood in. JB was racing up the porch steps to bang on the door of the house. Copper managed to get up on her feet and looked down at Chad. It would be such an easy thing to do run her sword through his back and finish him, but she knew Fisher was right. If she killed Chad she would end up locked up or killed. Either way she would be useless to Robb. With a snarl, she flicked Chad’s blood off her blades, then rammed them into place at her side. Then she walked over to Chad, picked up Robb’s mace, and allowed Fisher to lead her off.
The barracks wouldn’t be safe for Copper, so they ended up sitting together aloft at Copper’s crib in the barn. The bloodlust gone, Copper was past exhausted. She had almost passed out climbing the ladder up to the balcony. Fisher had gone up first, and had had to reach down and haul Copper up the last few rungs. Like most rebels, Fisher had some basic first aid knowledge, and had insisted on sewing Copper up. Copper knew that Fisher was right; she was still losing a lot of blood. Though Copper wouldn’t admit it, the unasked for kindness was welcome. Copper stripped down to her cotton bra to rest with her back to Fisher while the other woman sewed up the worst of the gashes.
Fisher whistled. “This is going to take a lot of work. You are a blighting mess.”
Copper grunted at the pain of the needle. “We killed it, but not before it got Bird.”
“Yeah, I heard. The brothers said Bird was opened up like a harvest pumpkin. I guess you’re lucky…or fast.”
“I sure didn’t feel fast. I still can’t believe how quick it was.”
There was a pause while Fisher worked. The pain was bad and Copper wished she had some of Jervais’ Darkmoon Reserve to take the edge off. She stuck the pommel of Robb’s knife across her mouth so she would have something to bite on.
Copper had tossed Robb’s mace down next to the armour. After a few minutes, Fisher finished up sewing up one of the gashes, bit off the catgut, and said. “Whatcha gonna do with the prisoner’s stuff?”
Copper took the bit out of her mouth and took a long breath. “Sell it, I figure.”
“You’re rotting me. How are you gonna sell it?”
“I got a few fences that would be interested,” Copper lied.
Copper had her back to Fisher so couldn’t read if Fisher bought it. The other woman didn’t press, however, just busied herself preparing the next thread. As she worked, she said, “What did Chad do to piss you off?”
Copper turned around. Fisher didn’t make eye contact. By the look of her, Copper figured Fisher had her own reasons not to like Chad. She considered a moment, then turned back away and answered, “Friend of yours?”
Fisher scoffed. “Hardly. Him and Valdin have had it coming for ages. I just wondered if…if he made a pass at you, or something.”
Fisher’s tone, and the awkward pause made it clear. “You and Chad?” Copper asked, putting a touch of disbelief in her voice.
There was a shocked pause, and then, “It was a long time ago. Before he and Valdin were so tight. He was an ass.”
Copper laughed, good-natured. “Well, if he comes at me again, I’ll give him a couple for you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Valdin’s already got it in for you after that card game. He’s been trash-talking you with the fellas all day. Now, for sure he gonna call you out. Or, more like, just cut you when you’ve got your back turned.”
Copper shrugged, putting the knife back in her mouth, and mumbled out, “I can take care of myself.”
Fisher worked quick, sewing up the worst of the cuts. Every so often she volunteered information about herself. The commentary helped keep Copper’s mind off the pain, and she felt herself warming to the strong woman behind her. Turned out, Fisher grew up in Raven Hill, but had joined up with the rebels some years back. She didn’t say so, but Copper got the impression that Fisher signed up on account of her interest in Chad. She was an attractive woman, with sandy blonde shoulder-length hair, fine pointed features. She seemed intelligent, strong, and kind. Copper couldn't figure what it was that had turned Chad off, and Fisher didn’t say. Copper had seen more than one gal fall for the wrong fella, and in the past she had always thought such women bloody idiots. Listening to Fisher talk, Copper wondered if she had become one of those idiots. Robb wouldn’t treat her bad, of course, but there was no debating that Copper couldn’t have made a worse choice. Then again, it didn’t feel like she had made a choice at all. It was more like it happened to her when she wasn’t looking. With a jerk, Copper realized that her eyes had fallen shut and focused back on what Fisher was saying. What was left of Fisher’s family was in Grand Hamlet, which Copper learned in passing had just changed its name to ‘Darkshire,’ in order to advertise its need for aid from the Stormwind militia, or something. Copper thought changing the town’s name to ask for help was a stupid idea, and wondered idly if the hermit’s old enemy, Ebonlocke, had had anything to do with the decision. Time passed, and soon even with the pain Copper was having a difficult time focusing on what Fisher was saying. Her head kept falling on her chest and the knife handle kept slipping from her teeth. Finally, Fisher said the worst of the bleeding was stopped, and put her thread away. With a mumbled word of thanks, Copper crumpled down in the hay and slept.
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