“We’re not leaving in that are we?”
A flash of lightning illuminated three orcs and a human as they looked out the door of the Darkwood stayover. The low rumbles of the following thunder didn’t manage to overpower the heavy patter of pouring rain.
“I said we would leave at first daylight,” Arkk said with a heavy frown, leading to the orcs grumbling under their breath. Arkk shook his head. Unfortunately, he agreed with them. “It doesn’t look like we’re getting daylight today.”
The light drizzle from the day prior had turned into a full-blown storm overnight. There wasn’t much wind, but the rain and lightning made up for it in droves. Even if he was willing to brave the lightning on the open road, they wouldn’t have gotten far before their cart wheels wound up stuck in the mud.
Closing the door, Arkk looked back to the stayover’s tavern area. His group wasn’t the only one present. Two of the First Legion, one he had hit with a bolt of lightning and one of the ones who had been outside during that confrontation, were glaring in his direction. The Order of the Claymores had two seated with them, both glaring as well even though Arkk had done nothing to either.
Looking around, Arkk’s frown only deepened. With the storm, it looked like everyone who could get away with it was staying inside. There were two other tables with a mixture of bounty hunter organizations. Both tables were glaring in his direction as well, though not to quite the same intensity as the First Legion. It did make him wonder what kind of rumors had flown about the tavern since the day before.
“Try not to start anything, but I guess we’ve got the day off,” Arkk whispered before heading over to the counter. The stayover proprietor had a large pot of soup being kept warm over some embers. He overpaid for a bowl and then headed to the one occupied table that wasn’t glaring daggers at him.
“Mind if I sit here?” Arkk said.
This table only had two others seated. A middle-aged man with graying hair and a younger woman who might have been his daughter with vibrant brown, almost orange hair. Arkk, however, was more interested in their clothes at the moment. The man wore a fine green vest held together with polished wooden toggles. The woman had a black dress with fur trim and a deep blue sleeveless jacket worn open.
Not the sort of clothes peasants or even mercenaries wore around often.
As long as he was trapped here, he might as well try to learn something.
“Arkk,” Arkk said, introducing himself as the older man nodded his agreement to Arkk’s request. “Leader of Company Al-Mir.”
“A free company?”
Arkk nodded his head. “More or less.” Mostly less. Free companies were typically mercenaries hired for war and little else. There wasn’t currently a war going on anywhere around the Duchy of Mystakeen and Arkk had no intentions of getting involved in one should one start.
“Aron Wolf,” he said, extending a hand. “Wolf Trading Company. My daughter, Arianna Wolf.”
“Charmed,” Arkk said, only to be met with rolling eyes. Paying Arianna little mind, Arkk turned his attention back to Aron. “You’re merchants? Trading in the ebon wood, I presume.”
“Merchants?” Aron said with a chuckle. “That’s a bit small for what we do, but not inaccurate, I suppose. And yes. Ebony wood is in quite high demand across the great states and even beyond the kingdom’s borders. I just purchased the local lumber mill and plan on expanding it to double its output.”
Arkk nodded along, slowly eating his soup as he listened to the merchant discuss all his plans for the area. Aron had a lot to say on the subject. Enough so that Arkk imagined he took great enjoyment from both the financial and logistical side of his business but never got a chance to discuss such things with others. In truth, Arkk wasn’t at all interested in wood trade. Not even if it was rare and fancy wood. Still, he politely nodded along until he found an opportunity to ask a question of much higher interest.
“Have you ever been to Cliff?”
“Oh of course,” Aron said with an easy smile before lightly patting his daughter’s back. “We have a home there, though the servants seem to live there more than we do these days. We’re planning on building here this coming year as well, though in truth, we spend most of our time traveling between the larger cities.”
“You travel yourself? For the trade? I figured you hire people to do that for you.”
Aron hesitated but nodded his head. “That is true. I have some people working for me. But I always like to meet with my clients personally. If you want something done right, do it yourself! That’s what my father always said,” he added with a laugh.
Arkk wasn’t sure if it was the laugh or what he said, but Arianna shot her father a withering look before slowly shaking her head. “You won’t be able to keep that up, Father,” she said, tone clipped. “Especially with this latest expansion.”
“And that is why you’re here learning,” Aron said with a full smile. “I can’t think of anyone better suited to represent Wolf Trading Company than a Wolf.”
Watching her flat look, Arkk asked, “Not interested in the family business?”
“Not by half.”
“Nonsense!” Aron rubbed his daughter’s shoulder. “You’ve a sharp mind, my dear. When I turn the company over to you, I know you’ll take it to new heights!”
“Because I know how to delegate,” she said, arms crossed in a huff. “If we weren’t traveling constantly, we could get so much more done. And we would have time to relax and socialize among other elites, people who would bring in more money when they buy our wares.”
“Mister Arkk is the leader of a free company and he is traveling,” Aron said, turning fully toward his daughter. “He understands the importance of a personal touch.”
“A free company carries out vastly different tasks than a trading company,” Arianna said, voice firm. “Not to mention, Mister Arkk must certainly understand the importance of delegation. You do have more than three orcs under your command, do you not?”
“That is true,” Arkk said. “Al-Mir is undertaking several different tasks at the moment. Magical research, exploration, mercenary jobs, recruitment, and others.” Saying it like that made it sound far more grandiose than a few people running around without a clue what they were doing.
“You must be here because this is either a job of great import, it is something you don’t trust underlings to handle, or it is something that only you can accomplish. Correct?”
Arkk decided to nod his head in agreement, more to see where she was going with this than because she was entirely accurate. Finding Gretchen was something others could have done and he even trusted them to do so, it was just that everyone he did trust to do this was busy with other things. Vezta was working on the portal, Olatt’an and Ilya were heading toward her home, and Rekk’ar had to remain with the other orcs at the fortress. Technically, he could have sent Dakka on her own…
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He probably would have wound up with Gretchen dragged back to the fortress against her will. As much as he didn’t want to do that himself, a traitorous corner of his mind thought it might have been the preferable outcome. He still doubted he would have turned her over to her father but access to that invisibility cloak might have been worth making an enemy of some viscount’s daughter.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get to see where Arianna was headed with her train of thought.
The door to the stayover flung open, letting chill, moist air into the warm tavern. Standing in the doorway, the alchemist’s beaked mask slowly turned from one side of the room to the other. As soon as the dark lenses of their mask stopped on Arkk, Morford began moving with haste.
Arkk had to admire the alchemist’s cloak. It wasn’t that thick, but the rainwater just rolled off it. As soon as they took their first step into the tavern, it was like they had never been in the rain at all. Their cloak was as dry as if it had been hung in front of a fire for hours.
“I would speak with you,” the alchemist whispered upon reaching the table.
“You’re late. I said daybreak.”
“That’s not…” The alchemist clenched their fist, holding out a small scrap of parchment.
Raising an eyebrow, Arkk took it and quickly skimmed the few short sentences. “She’s gone?”
“Didn’t want to cause me further disturbance,” the alchemist whispered, referencing a line in the scribbled note. “When I woke this morning, she was gone.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to do about this. I already said I wasn’t going to force her to do anything if she didn’t want to.”
“You must find her. I… I cannot match the viscount’s price, but I can pay.” Arkk tried to get a word in, but the alchemist held up a hand. Although their voice still came out in a whisper, the intensity behind it spoke of their fear. “She cannot be out today. The storm… Days like these are the most dangerous around Darkwood. The times of year when the walls are put to the test. If she has left the burg, she will be torn to pieces at best.”
“Even with the cloak?”
“The inability to see will not affect creatures that hunt by sound and smell.”
“It certainly affects my ability to find her,” Arkk said as his hand drifted toward the crystal ball hanging from his waist. “I know a tracking ritual. If she hasn’t gotten far, it might work—I’m not sure how it would interact with the invisibility cloak. I suppose it is worth a shot. I need a part of her. Hair, blood, maybe a few threads from the clothing she is wearing. Anything like that will work.”
The beaked mask dipped as the alchemist sagged in relief. “I will scour my home. There must be something left behind.”
“Hurry. I don’t know exactly how far the tracking ritual can reach, only that it has limits. If she is beyond those limits, finding her will be nearly impossible. We’ll meet you at your workshop.” It was about halfway between the stayover and the alchemist’s house.
“I will be there.”
“As for pay,” Arkk started before the alchemist could run. They stiffened, freezing as the dark lenses of their mask locked onto Arkk. “Treat some of our gear with that soakless solution and we’ll call it even.”
“That’s it? That is worth a few dozen silvers at best.”
“Are you really arguing?”
The alchemist stared for a moment more before turning without a word. They didn’t quite walk straight as they moved to the door, moving with a limp in their gait. Arkk watched until the door slammed behind them before he stood and looked back to the two who he had shared a table with.
“Did I understand that correctly?” Arianna said, staring with wide eyes. “Some foolish girl ran off into the storm? Around Darkwood? Even we have heard the rumors…”
“It seems work is calling,” was all Arkk said, offering a wan smile. “I’d love to chat more, but don’t know if we’ll run into each other again here. Will you be back in Cliff anytime soon?”
Arianna and Aron simply stared until the former clacked her jaw together.
“There are monsters—ghasts among other things—out in the forest.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Arianna added to her father’s statement.
“As you said, a free company has remarkably different duties compared to a trading company.”
“In exchange for soakless solution?”
“Company Al-Mir is excessively wealthy. Besides, who said I am doing this for nothing?” Arkk grinned. “What I hope to get out of this little job is worth far more than anything that alchemist could come up with. It isn’t always about coin.”
Aron shuddered, but stood up, extending a hand once again. “Well said, my boy. Well said indeed. Saving a poor lost girl is a noble cause.” He gave Arkk a far firmer grip on his handshake this time around. “If you do make it back to Cliff, the House of Wolf would be honored to see you as a guest. Our manor is in the trade district. Large wolf emblem on the gates. Can’t miss it. If we aren’t there, I’ll instruct the servants to admit you so you might leave a missive. I would be most interested in hearing how this turns out.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you. Good day,” Arkk said as he turned to the rest of the room.
Most of the room had eyes on him once again. They had probably been staring since the alchemist arrived. Arkk paid them little mind, looking to his employees. They had eyes on him as well.
“Time to go,” Arkk said.
“Into the storm?” Orjja grumbled. “Thought we had the day off.”
Dakka punched Orjja in the shoulder as she stood, shooting the other orc a glare. “Boss said it’s time to go. It is time to go,” she said, then leaned down to whisper something into Orjja’s ear.
Arkk didn’t catch what was said, but he did catch the way Orjja’s skin changed to a sickly shade of green. He hadn’t thought that was possible. Whatever Dakka said, it got Orjja practically sprinting to the door. Farr’an didn’t need any extra encouragement. He simply downed the rest of his bowl of soup before following Orjja out.
“Good luck,” Arianna said just as Arkk reached the door behind Dakka. He smiled even as she turned aside and added, “Idiot.”
“What’d you say to Orjja?” Arkk asked as he stepped out into the pouring rain.
He hated everything about accepting the job the moment he felt the water soak into his cloak. It took consoling himself with the promise of the alchemist’s soakless solution to continue walking.
Dakka didn’t seem to mind, though the rain was making the dark paint under her eyes start to run down her cheeks. “Just reminded her what happens to people who displease you.”
“What happens to people who displease me?” Arkk asked, genuinely curious as to the answer.
“They get hung outside burgs as a warning to others. Or experimented upon with new magic.”
Arkk shot her a dark look. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my employees with death. Unless they’re trying to summon demons or run off to raid villages, I’m not going to kill her. Or any of you.”
Dakka didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “It got her moving.”
“I don’t want you all afraid of me.”
“I’m not. I doubt Rekk’ar or the Ripthroat are either. Those who you rescued from the prison room probably aren’t too afraid. The rest?”
Orjja had been one of two that Dakka had wanted to convince to change sides and the only one of those two who had survived that particular skirmish. Arkk wasn’t sure how early she had surrendered, but Dakka was probably counting her among ‘the rest’ for this.
“Just… Dakka, as my field commander, try not to traumatize them. That gives them more reason to desert or rebel.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to reject that order.”
“What? Wh—”
“We were in a crowded tavern. You do not want your employees disrespecting you or fighting against you in public. It undermines your authority, makes you look weak, and instills more thoughts of rebellion than a good threat would. Orcs don’t respect that. If someone is talking back, you should just punch them.” Dakka looked down, eyes roving over Arkk’s arms. “Or hit them with a lightning bolt.”
Arkk took in a breath and let it back out slowly. She… had a point there. Although… “Are we including you in that, Miss Reject-that-order?”
Dakka stiffened, lips pressed together as much as orc anatomy would allow, hiding most of her tusks. “Uh… no, Sir. Not me, Sir.”
“Relax. I’m not going to punish you for explaining yourself,” Arkk said maybe a little too quickly, but he didn’t want her to regress to the stiff Dakka that had been with him and Ilya on the first day of their journey to Cliff. “You know orcs better than I do. I’ll leave them to you to handle. Just try to keep the threats, direct or implied, to a minimum.”
“Very good, Sir.”
Arkk let out a small groan, one muffled by a roll of thunder. Deciding to let the matter drop for the moment, he kept silent until they reached the alchemist’s workshop. The door was locked but the roof hung a bit over the door, letting them keep mostly out of the rain.
It wasn’t long before the alchemist came limping back with a crystal phial in hand. Within, he had a single curly white hair.
Arkk and the orcs handed over their cloaks for treatment. While the alchemist shoved them into a large cauldron and began pouring liquids inside, Arkk took a stick of chalk and started sketching out the tracking ritual.
An unpleasant tightness formed in his stomach as he looked over the lines. He hadn’t used the ritual even once since using it to kill the orc’s former chieftain. Even now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to use it. If he pushed a bit too much magic into the ritual, Gretchen might not have a chance to be torn apart by the monsters of Darkwood.
Knowing she probably would be torn apart if he didn’t perform the ritual, Arkk took a breath and stepped into the circle.
He pushed minuscule amounts of magic into it, slowly and carefully building it up until he felt the ritual complete. The hair in the triangular section of the circle began glowing with that ethereal translucency that he knew could be seen through walls.
Slowly, Arkk turned in place until he spotted a much larger mass in the distance beyond the alchemy workshop.
“Got her,” Arkk said.