Lady Ashdown sat on a rock millennia old and which had once been part of a mountain range higher than the Himalayas. The view was astonishing and she soaked up the atmosphere as the sun rose and the dark sky turned into a riot of reds, oranges and pinks.
She always made it a habit to get up and savour the beauty of the sunrise whenever she could. Unlike some, she fully accepted the fact that her job could see her dead in a number of uncountable ways at any point.
Some members of the Sanction took refuge in over indulgence of the carnal, alcoholic or feeding nature capturing pleasure at every opportunity. She too had indulged herself this way but had found it to be unsatisfying and empty. The more one over indulged, or hit another excess, the more one had to try to exceed that the next time. It was puerile, shallow and never-ending.
She sighed as she ran over the events of the day before, marvelling at just how much the world had changed - how much she had changed - for her to take this as a normal part of her life, and not be reduced to a gibbering wreck.
Both she and Smythe had fought together when they were unable to find Von Adin before the hounds attacked. Her breath caught at how she had barely killed a hound, stopping it just as it was poised to rip Smythe’s throat out. He had laughed with the sheer joy of being alive.
He was the most handsome man she had ever met and the only one she had never noticed looking at her inappropriately.
The ones that had held her all those years before had been more than interested in her beauty, nearly raping her to death. All other men she had met, including Von Adin, had been taken in by her beauty first and her abilities second. Smythe on the other hand seemed to be completely oblivious and this intrigued her. She wondered what it would be like to have Smythe view her as something more than a colleague and felt the vaguest of flutters in her stomach.
A polite “Ahem” startled her out of her reverie and she turned to see Smythe standing behind her. Her face grew hotter by the second and she prayed to an entire pantheon of gods that he would not notice as the sun was in his eyes.
“The Waystation’s commanding officer has received a whisper. The Professor wants us to investigate the Vampyre. He doesn’t believe that the attack upon us yesterday was random and I have to agree. How on earth a rogue Vampyre got past the Curtain and avoided detection to make it all the way down here I don’t know. Nor does the Professor, he’s worried that they’ve found a way of getting past it.” Lady Ashdown hugged herself and rubbed her arms as he said this. Smythe could sympathise with her, the thought that any hostile Vampyre could get past the Curtain, the legendary Curtain, was enough to send chills down the spine of the bravest man in the world.
He also feels that we can’t leave it to local forces to deal with the Vampyre. Too many of the troops and militia have never seen true aether-born. They might have seen the Willo-the-wisp or Piskie but they have no true understanding of what they really face.”
“Maybe this is the perfect opportunity for them to learn!”
“Clara, they are old men and boys. If this is related, we can’t involve them anyway. Can you imagine the outcry if word got out that someone had worked out how to control the aether-born? It would open the floodgates for more people to try it. One Torquemaster is bad enough. Come and have some breakfast, the commander thinks he has an inkling as to where our friend went last night.”
That place was Maristow House near the village of Bere Ferres on the River Tavy. Leather creaking, Smythe leaned back in his saddle, stretching his legs and giving the horse that had been loaned to him its head. Leaving the horse to follow its friends, Smythe looked at the young cavalry trooper assigned to guide them. He was nothing like the spit and polish marionette one would have expected from a cavalry unit. His uniform was dirty, sporting stains from top to bottom, his boots were dull, his hair was longer than regulations decreed and he had a patchy beard that did nothing to hide neither his scabies nor anything to make him appear any older.
The commander of the Waystation had approached Smythe, desperate to go with them. When Smythe had refused the offer, he had reluctantly called the young trooper into his office.
“He’s the best horseman we have and probably the best for miles around. He’s also part of the Gubbins family and what they don’t know about this God-forsaken place is quite frankly not worth knowing. He’ll see you safely there and back.” Smythe had to admit that he was impressed with the way Gubbins handled his mount and the way he had chosen the most suitable mount for all of them.
He glanced over at Lady Ashdown. The Waystation had no side saddles and so she had borrowed a pair of tight cavalry trousers from the unit’s trumpeter. Victorian society might have changed somewhat, but it was still uncommon for women to wear trousers, and especially such tight and revealing trousers.
The woman’s bloody gorgeous, and those trousers, positively indecent. He thought to himself. Much to his chagrin he suddenly realised that he was stroking his moustache in a most unseemly manner and quickly turned to look at their surroundings, praying that none of the others had seen him. Fortunately they were all too busy following their guide. Gubbins was an expert in using the land and managed to avoid them ever having to skyline themselves the majority of the time. Smythe found his respect growing for the man every minute that passed. Here was a man who had lived in one area for the whole of his life, actually lived in the area. Gubbins clearly knew the moor better than most people knew their house.
“B”Aint be far nou zur. Reckon youm best be gettin' yon maid and big bay ready so to fight.” Compared to the English spoken in Manchester, his Devonshire dialect was like a foreign language. Maid was the term used for woman or lady, taken from the word maiden. Bay was his way of saying boy. That morning Smythe had watched Gubbins speaking to another member of his family and the language they used sounded like it was from another time.
He laughed at Von Adin’s puzzled look. “Thank you Trooper we shall be ready for any trouble.”
A few minutes later, they spotted the house. It was clear to Smythe that a lot of work had been carried out in the gardens. Landscaping had turned the garden into one of the most beautiful defence works he had seen. They were a riot of colours, bushes, and trees.
It was clear to his trained eye that all of that only served to hide the real purpose of the landscaping. Fire lanes, dry moats and trench works turned assaulting the house into a deadly prospect.
“It appears that We’re not going to be able to assault the house with what we have. We’ll have to use guile, stealth and your talents Clara.” His stomach fluttered at the thought of attacking the house. He always dealt with adrenalin better if it was sprung upon him. The slow build-up before a battle was pure torture.
They backed away into cover and started to hash out their plans. Gubbins was especially helpful in pointing out how they could use the contours of the land to get within one hundred yards of the nearest side before resorting to aether, something that Smythe was heartily grateful for. Not one to shy from a fight, he did not believe in giving the opponent any advantage at all.
Plans finalised he suggested they bed down, taking it in turns to rest. The approach would start at midnight and the plan was to make entry at three in the morning.
Lady Ashdown found the crawl tortuous. Gubbins had them move at a snail’s pace, making them crawl directly in his path to ensure that “youm clumsy townies” did not give them away. Finally, after three and a half hours they reached the stepping off point. Gubbins was to remain where he was and ensure that their path of retreat was clear. Rubbing her sore knees, she thanked God that she hadn’t been forced to wear a dress, knowing that the crawl would have taken much longer than it did.
She gently Pulled in aether making it bend the light around them so that they were essentially invisible to the naked eye. She Pulled in more and created a bubble that stopped sound from escaping. For as long as she maintained the streams, it would be as if they did not exist. No sentry would be able to see them.
As soon as she as she gave the go ahead they surged up from their position and dashed forward until they were at the base of the wall surrounding the house. Smythe spun and leaned his back against the wall, his hands in a stirrup cup shape. Von Adin ran towards him and, stepping into his hands, found himself being boosted up to the top. He flung his leg over and straddled the top, leaning down to catch Lady Ashdown and she too was boosted upwards. Smythe took a few steps away and then ran and jumped up reaching for their hands. In under a minute they had breached the wall. Now they just had to get into the house.
Crouching with the others for a minute in the e lee of the wall, Lady Ashdown listened for any sound or movement. Lady Ashdown Pulled a tiny fragment of aether, heightening her senses. She strained, trying to find anything, hear anything. Frustrated, she knelt and put her hands on the ground, closing her eyes in the vain hope that it would help.
“Nothing so far and by nothing I mean nothing. Not even worms moving in the ground. We need to tread very carefully indeed.”
The absence of sound could only mean that a very powerful aethermancer had thrown up a shield covering the whole property. This had two benefits; the first was that no sounds would escape outside and the other was that intruders would be completely unaware that they had been detected prior to facing the guards.
The nearest window was only one hundred feet away across a series of Rose and bush beds. Only was a relative word when facing a Vampyre.
Sure that she was still shielding them from detection Lady Ashdown led them to behind the first Rose bed.
“Do we go through or around? Through will be shorter, as going around all the beds will take considerable time and effort.” She looked at the roses, not wanting to pick her way through at all.
Von Adin sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I will go first. If there is any trouble I’m sure you can come to the rescue of the fair knight in distress my brave damsel.” With that he stood up and started to push through.
*
Von Adin was still chuckling as he pushed through into the first bed, his laughter cutting off as thorns pricked his flesh and snagged his clothes.
Slowly but surely he made good process, pushing further and further into the bed an inch at a time.
He turned slowly to face them, “Verdammt flowers. This is taking far too long. I’m coming back we’ll have to go around.”
He tried to turn and found that somehow his foot was caught. Reaching down he ripped the plant from around his foot. Straightening up he stepped forward and found that his other foot was caught.
“Achtung, I think I have a problem.” He stiffened as he felt another rose snagging his thigh, “The roses don’t seem to want to part company.”
More and more roses were winding their way around his thighs, he hissed in pain as more, and more thorns punctured his flesh. It was as if thorn-covered snakes were climbing up his body.
At the same time the flowers started to open, revealing what could only be described as mouths packed with tiny teeth.
“What the fucking hell is going on! You bloody English and your gardens!” His voice cracked with fear and pain as the heads of the flowers started to sway towards him.
“Stand still man. These are Bloodleech Roses the more you struggle the more of them you’ll wake up and the more they’ll try to eat you.” Lady Ashdown and Smythe had carefully backed away from the edge of the rose bed.
“Eat me! Please Clara, get me out!” he ripped at another bush that was concentrating on his groin, stifling a moan of pain. Inwardly he cursed wracking his brains to see what he knew about Bloodleech Roses. Another thorn slipped slowly into his skin and he remembered that the thorns were hollow, allowing the rose to suck the blood of its victim into the stem. The mouths were there to bite and tear, adding to the blood loss suffered by the victim and hasten their death.
A head moved towards his leg and he batted it away, licking his lips nervously as another flicked in towards him. Desperately he swatted it away, knowing that to release aether from his glove would put his friends in danger.
*
Smythe ground his teeth. To be held up by fucking flowers, and flowers that threatened to drain the blood from his friend in front of him, filled him with impotent fury. He knew there was nothing that he could do. He turned, and looked at the one person that could help Von Adin.
“If I Pull enough aether to help him they’ll know We’re here.” Said Lady Ashdown.
Smythe shrugged. “Well we can’t bloody well leave him, that’s not the Sanction way. Free him and we’ll try to get into the house before whoever is in there has time to deploy their forces out here. We’re still going to have to go through the roses, so you’ll have to kill them as we go”
“Karl, get ready to turn and run, Clara to lead, you next and I’ll take the rear. Righto my dear, unleash your angelic powers.” he said the last with a roguish grin that did well to hide his nervousness.
He could tell that Lady Ashdown had Pulled hard on aether. There were two ways that aether could be Pulled. For mundane matters such as healing, conjuring and whispers, the Pull was best done gently. However, for combat use the quicker an aethermancer Pulled the less warning their opponents had. It also meant that they were able to Pull a lot more aether in over a very short time span.
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Snow sprang into the air and their breath puffed into the air. Smythe opened his mouth to breath as the sudden cold bit into his nose, stinging as if he had sniffed smelling salts.
As soon as Lady Ashdown Pulled, all hell broke loose. The roses doubled their efforts in trying to entangle Von Adin and those nearest to Lady Ashdown and Smythe tried to hook them in as well. At the same time lights started to come on in the house and they could hear shouts in a foreign language. Smythe winced as an unholy shriek split the air. Somewhere, a conscientious Slav was being deafened by the steam whistle that was currently giving out such a dreadful noise.
“Slavs, must have brought them through with him. Not too hard to deal with. Can’t imagine that’s all he has though.” Smythe cursed himself for such a karmic utterance when they heard a buzzing noise.
“Marsh Faeries!” Lady Ashdown screamed out the warning before unleashing a burst of wind that scattered the swarm of Faeries, blowing the wings of many of them, bursting others as they slammed into the ground. Smythe felt relief flood through his body. The product of some dreadful accident in the lands beyond the gates, Marsh Faeries were some of the most vindictive and evil aether-born he had ever had the pleasure of killing. Masters of poison, a swarm such as the one Lady Ashdown had thankfully destroyed could kill them all ten times over. He felt sick just at the memory of a man he had seen killed by them.
Just as quickly, Lady Ashdown reached down and touched the ground. Releasing aether deep into the ground, she cooked the roots of the roses. Dead in an instant, they released their grip on Von Adin and Smythe watched as he ripped himself free of the thorns that were embedded in his clothing and flesh.
“No time to be subtle,” shouted Lady Ashdown as she set off at a sprint, burning the next set of bushes in front of them and then freezing the next. Smythe cursed and winced as the thorns still managed to cut him, but forged on knowing that they had to make entry into the house as soon as possible.
The sound of shouting got louder and then it seemed as though the marrow in their bones shook as a terrible howling drowned out all other sounds.
“Run faster! We have to get in before those bastard dogs get here “Smythe’s legs were burning from the effort of running through the mud of the Rose beds. He had pulled out both his maverick and his Mauser snapped off a shot as the first of the Slavs rounded the corner. The man pitched forward, wailing as he held his stomach.
The next man to come round the corner did so whilst firing blindly. The bullets zipped through the air behind Smythe missing by a good six feet. He heard Lady Ashdown gasping behind him as he put on a sudden spurt.
He kept his arm raised, still running towards the window that Von Adin was busy breaking. There was so much noise that it was doubtful anyone would hear it.
As the second Slav fully rounded the corner, Smythe fired three times quickly. The first two rounds were too low and kicked up the neatly raked gravel of the driveway. The third was just high enough. With a warbling wail his target clutched at his shattered groin and fell to the floor, writhing in agony as he desperately tried to piece together his groin and stop the arterial bleed.
As soon as she reached the window, Smythe pulled Lady Ashdown close to him, “We need a distraction. Now.”
She nodded, closed her eyes as if concentrating, Pulled hard again and three shadowy forms that matched the body shapes of the three of them appeared. She pointed and the doppelganger-like apparitions ran off back into the garden drawing the Slavs after them.
The howling was suddenly very much louder so they piled in through the window. Another pull and the window looked to be whole again. Von Adin gave her a deep bow.
“ Your prowess is a sight to behold fair lady. It is truly an honour and a privilege to fight alongside you.” Lady Ashdown’s reply was drowned out by the terrible howling and all three backed away nervously as a huge shape went past the window.
There was more shouting and gunfire in the direction of the shadows that Lady Ashdown had summoned and Smythe wiped a shaking hand across his forehead as the hound bounded towards the noise, baying with all of its might.
After a quick scan of the room, they realised that they were in the billiards room. Smythe looked around checking for any exits.
“I presume that the spoor will be too difficult to follow?” His drew deep breaths, still feeling the effects of the sprint and the adrenalin dump caused by the appearance of the hound.
“Not so my dear Willoughby. Although there are trails throughout this room, the freshest is by far the strongest and reeks of Vampyre.
It leads that way.” She pointed towards a door just right of them and walked slowly towards it. They could hear shouting from the garden and muffled shouting came from somewhere in the house.
For the next few minutes, they moved cautiously from one room to the other. The shouting grew more and more quiet as the time passed and Smythe slowly began to relax as he assumed that the decoys had led the inhabitants to believe they had fled.
Coming to a short corridor, they heard the sound of a man sniffing coming from around the corner. Lying down, Smythe carefully popped his head around and back in under a second.
Looking at the others, he signalled that there was one guard and he would deal with him. Now that the inhabitants were convinced they had been driven off, it would have been foolish to have Lady Ashdown Pull if she did not have to. Slowly he stood up, took a couple of deep breaths to settle himself, and drew a short fighting knife, walking as if he belonged in the house and keeping his gaze just past the guard he calmly approached him. He was careful to walk down the carpeted centre of the wooden floor, using the sides of his feet and rolling them to minimise any sound.
In one smooth movement he covered the guard’s mouth and drove the blade right into the guard’s diaphragm, withdrew it and hook-stabbed the man through the neck behind the windpipe. Snarling he savagely sawed through it towards himself.
At the point of the first thrust, the guard’s eyes had popped open, his hands flying to the hand covering his mouth. With the second thrust and the start of the cutting, he desperately tried to hold the cutting hand in place as his legs kicked and flailed.
With one last savage cut Smythe was through. Stepping back, he wiped the blood that had spurted onto his mouth as best he could. The entire front of his clothing was drenched and his hands literally dripped with the stuff. His stomach heaved and his cheeks puffed out as bile rose into his throat. The warm salty taste of the man’s blood was almost too much to bear as he fumbled at his hip flask, desperate to get rid of the taste, and calm the shakes that threatened to send the flask tumbling to the floor.
With his diaphragm punctured, a collapsed lung and a throat slit the guard was not only unable to call for help, there was no risk of escaping air making the blood rasp as he tried to draw his last breaths. Smythe turned his head as the man’s eyes pleaded with him to help. Yet another memory of regret settled into his mind and he knew that he would be dreaming about the man for a long time to come. He always did when it came to killing someone hand-to-hand. For some reason shooting them did not seem to have the same effect. At that thought the picture of the young highwaymen slammed into view, mentally staggering him as if he had been punched.
“All done. Move through.” He voice was husky, whether it was from a suddenly dry throat, or the sob that threatened to push its way out of his mouth he did not know. Lady Ashdown stepped daintily over the blood and softly put her hand on his back, gently pushing him past the guard and taking care not to look too closely herself.
*
Von Adin had pushed on to the closed door at the end of the corridor. Kneeling carefully, he slowly ran his hands over the door, feeling for any sort of vibration that might indicate a trap. Any door with a guard was worth checking in his mind. Slowly, and very gently he cupped his hand against the door and placed his ear against it. Nothing.
Reaching out for the door knob he stopped and spat onto it. Nothing happened. Looking at the others he took a deep breath and took hold of the knob. Very slowly he twisted the knob and cautiously pushed the door open. Back against the door, he held it open for the others , letting them step through into a huge great hall. He drew his sword and followed them, moving into its darkened depths. A low chuckle from the far end of the hall stopped him mid-pace. He mirrored Smythe as he stepped into a high-guard stance.
*
Lady Ashdown cried out at the pain, stars dancing across her eyes as lights burst into flame along the sides of the hall, revealing a line of Slavs stood to attention along the wooden walls. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the Vampyre sitting in a throne at the far end.
Even a Minor Vampyre such as he was impressive. Power literally oozed from his pores and a gentle orange aura surrounded him, glowing like the bottom of a cloud at sunset. Confidence radiated from him in waves.
“Did you really think that I would not realise your true intentions? Did you not think that I would fail to notice the gruesome death of one of my Bondsmen? I must applaud you for that by the way. Efficient and extremely painful at the same time.” The Vampyre clapped slowly, rising as he did so and walked slowly towards them, stepping in time with his claps.
“He’s recently turned.” She whispered to the others, relief flooding through her body as she heard him speak. His accent was earth-born, not the rich, earthy accent of an aether-born. This meant that his powers would be nowhere near reaching their full potential.
The Vampyre frowned as he heard her, she knew that even though he was recently turned, his powers would be starting to manifest themselves, with his sight and hearing becoming much sharper than that of a normal human being.
The air rapidly chilled as he Pulled on aether, and she hissed and dropped into a crouching guard as she realised just how much aether he was drawing in. She Pulled as rapidly as she could, taking in more aether than she ever had.
There was a moment of pure silence, the air itself seemed to still, and she relished the sound of her blood singing in her ears. The whole world seemed to take on a vividness that could never be matched by the most garish painting, she gasped at the amount of aether she was holding.
Smythe stepped forward, opening his mouth as if to speak and then shrugged. Both of his hands snapped up and he opened fire with his Mauser. The Vampyre roared with anger as a bullet clipped his shoulder. Lady Ashdown added her support, sending balls of light to blind the Vampyre, alternating them with fire, ice, lighting and air bolts. Neither of them stayed in the same position they had started, moving to different sides of the Vampyre in order to further confuse him.
Von Adin charged forward sword held low. Six feet from the Vampyre, he slid onto his knees, gliding along the highly polished floor before lashing out at their enemy’s shins. The blade bit deep, cutting into the bone. He rolled to avoid a stamp that shook the floor cracking the oak floorboards. He lashed out with his glove, grabbing hold.
A high-pitched scream came from the Vampyre as aether crackled into the sword cut. Reflexively it kicked its foot sending Von Adin flying through the air. He landed with a solid thump and whoosh of expelled air.
At the same time Lady Ashdown kept up a steady stream of attacks snaring the Vampyre with tendrils of aether, blinding it with light, dropping balls of pure darkness over its head. Every single attack had to be individually dispersed which in turn slowed his ability to counter attack.
Sweat steamed down her face and her hair hung limply about her face. Barely daring to blink she kept her eyes as wide open as she could, even as the sweat ran into her eyes. Her face was locked in a feral snarl and she breathed hard as she moved around the room.
Barely able to think, she was acting on instinct, and something was telling her things weren’t right. She realised what that was when she deflected a fire bolt and it hit one of the slavs around the room. Silently he stood rock still as his flesh was roasted from his bones. Even when his partially cooked and steaming entrails fell onto the floor, he stayed silent. Bound to the will of their master, she knew the Slavs would follow their orders to the letter even if it meant they died. They were like stumblers, undead corpses driven by the desperate urge to be warm, and to draw breath.
*
Smythe was not too fussed about what the slavs were or weren’t doing. At that moment, he was too busy sending bullet after bullet from his Mauser towards the Vampyre. In the dimly lit hall the constant flashes of not only Lady Ashdown’s aether but also the muzzle flash from his weapon was making hard for him to lay his shots onto target with any accuracy. The hammer on his Mauser clicked onto an empty chamber. Ejecting the slim magazine, he let it drop to the floor as he reached for the larger drum magazine at his hip.
As he was doing so the Vampyre stamped forward and roared sending a voice attack out that blew Lady Ashdown and the still rising Von Adin off their feet.
It started to walk towards them as they desperately tried to rise, overcoming the pain of broken limbs as best they could.
“Soul sucker!” with the sudden cessation of aether bolts Smythe’s vision had cleared enough to do what he needed. As the Vampyre reflexively turned its head towards him, he fired a single shot from his Maverick. Prior to the mission, he had loaded the mammoth revolver with special rounds. Trapped within the lead of each bullet was an enraged fire demon.
Smythe loved the demon rounds and the rage filled demons that were trapped in them. Pyromania defined Fire Demons, as did a constant rage.
And, thanks to their size, they can’t stay on this plane for too long.
The bullet slammed the Vampyre’s head back. Being hit by a bullet from the Maverick was the equivalent of being hit in the face by a fast-travelling house brick. Powerful as it was the Vampyre could not defy all of the laws of physics.
Both of its hands came up to its face and it screamed out in rage and pain. The scream rose in pitch as smoke started to curl out of its mouth. Stumbling, it crushed a Slav to death as it slammed into the wall. The scream turned to a high-pitched wail as its head burst into flame. In absolute agony the Vampyre dropped to its knees and then onto all fours. Shuffling along the floor, it stretched out a hand before finally collapsing to the floor as its brains were cooked.
There was a tiny popping noise and a small spark spiralled up out of one of the Vampyre’s now empty eye sockets. The demon flew towards the ceiling, getting dimmer and dimmer as the power binding it to this plane diminished. There was an even smaller popping noise and it disappeared.
For a minute, no one said anything. Lady Ashdown and Von Adin staggered to their feet wincing and hissing at the pain. Smythe moved towards them, turning in a slow circle in order to make sure none of the Slavs were making a move to attack them. Not one of them moved. As he looked closer, he realised that not one of them was blinking either.
“What the Hell has that bastard done to these chaps?” Their stillness made him feel uneasy.
“It would have been an order along the lines of watch and be still. God knows. He probably wanted to demonstrate his strength to them by defeating us in single combat. Without knowing the release word I’m afraid that they are going to stay like this until they starve to death.” As Lady Ashdown talked, she walked over tithe nearest and gently touched the man’s eye with her fingernail. There was absolutely no response whatsoever.
There was a glint of silver and she parted the slaves collar.
“Torques, they’re wearing them!” she walked along the line checking a few more to see if they were wearing them as well.
“And this one.” Von Adin had hobbled over to the Vampyre’s smouldering corpse. He knelt, covering his nose and poked at the body with his glove. “Just the same as the one on the ghoul.”
“One wonders if he was a master at all! Perhaps the true master is yet to show himself. I think that we need to leave. Now.”
Smythe lent Von Adin his arm. As quickly as they could they made their way through the now-empty house and five minutes later found themselves back in the garden.
Shadows rose out of the ground as they approached the still smoking rose beds and they tensed.
“Be still sir. It’s Gubbins.” Smythe realised that he was finally getting used to the man’s accent, finding it much easier to understand him. “These are my kin. Dartmoor is our land and we don’t take kindly to foreigners such as these trespassing.” He gestured to a group of Slavs lying in the mud, the majority of them having had their throats slit. Other bodies lay scattered about, including one of the hounds. Gubbins” people moved from body to body, sorting out those of their people from the slavs. Their people were gently laid out next to each other, the slavs were stripped of everything, including their teeth. Seeing this, Smythe realised he better warn them.
“Good job, Gubbins. Please ask your people not to remove the torques. They have a nasty habit of killing people that do. Now, are you all Queen’s men good and true?” Smythe tensed, from what he could see – and smell – of the people with Gubbins, they were a rough bunch. Ever since the creation of the Aether Gates and the arrival of the Horde, the loyalty of people to Queen Victoria and the Empire had been stretched, sometimes to the point of breaking.
“That we are sir. We might hold to our own laws and rules but We’re still loyal. In our way.” Smythe filed that last sentence away for future thought.
The air had chilled again and he realised that Lady Ashdown had set about healing her and Von Adin’s injuries.
“Did any escape you?”
“Yes sir, and they managed to take a couple of those bloody big dogs with them too. They all fled towards the village across the river. Strange it was. They was fighting us hard until about five minutes ago when they all just upped sticks and ran. We cut a load of them down with no trouble like, but them bloody roses set about some out people so we held off chasing the buggers. By then it was too late so we thought we’d wait and see what came out of the house.”