Rafe
Rafe sat and watched the flames of the fire dance as they reached up to the sky. It was just after dusk, so the sky was a swirling bruise of purples and dark blues. Tiny flecks of ash disappeared on a light breeze and smoke curled upwards and dissipated. To his right was Tristan, talking animatedly with a member of his team. On his left sat a quiet member of his kin. He had spent the past mark with Tristan’s team listening to their chatter, basking in their closeness and the nothingness that surrounded them. He enjoyed being called out by Tristan. He had travelled all over Moralis but had barely left Jude. In the evenings, no matter their location, they gathered together, shared their tales of the day, and unwound as a unit. Tristan had a habit of calling Rafe to join them for their meal. It allowed Rafe to escape the hustle and bustle of Jude, and none of them expected anything of him. This far out, it took a tremendous amount of magic to be called, so his team would need to spend a mark or two fending for themselves. There was no buzz at the edge of his senses, constantly calling for his attention. There were no nosy spymasters, no whining offspring of torturers, no investigations, no stress. As much as he believed they would do what they had to, Rafe still worried. He was just as protective as Auraya. Perhaps not as much, her protectiveness had reached a height many of them would never attain. But still, he worried. He knew, like him, most of them had been hurt and he did not want to be someone who added to their pain. Each of his team had chosen to join. They had known the risk when they had agreed, but that did not mean he wouldn’t do whatever he could to ensure each of them came home after a mission. It was as if Tristan instinctively knew when Rafe had had enough of duty, human interaction and noise, and he just needed to escape. The call would come, and Rafe would go. He would always be grateful for the family Auraya and Reggie had made for him.
Rafe felt the first touches of tiredness weigh down his eyelids and attempt to draw a yawn from his chest. He rolled his shoulders, intending to leave.
“Leaving already?” Tristan asked, turning to him.
Rafe nodded.
“Stay safe, brother,” Tristan told him with a warm smile and squeeze of his shoulder.
“And you,” Rafe replied.
Rafe took himself to his room back in the castle, changed then headed to his corner. He was asleep within moments. He woke before the sun, folded the blanket, and placed it on the desk. He then took himself back to his room. He readied himself for training and joined Auraya. She was standing about twenty feet from a training dummy. Her posture was relaxed, and her eyes were closed. Rafe could sense her magic swirling all around her. Intrigued, he stood and tried to understand what she was doing. It seemed nonsensical to him. Her magic was flitting about, seemingly at random, twirling all around her. After a while, the whirling ceased and it shot forward, causing the training dummy to explode. Or not explode. As the dust settled, he realised that the top half of the dummy had been severed. The smug smile on Auraya’s face told him that she had achieved what she had intended.
She turned as he approached, her smile brightening.
“Finally got it,” she told him.
He smiled at her and raised his hands. “Shall we?”
She obliged and took his hands. They spent the next mark moving from place to place. She had improved. She kept her frustration at bay, although he knew she still felt it. When they returned to the training yard, they sparred until Trevor took control and led the group through movements. Sparring consisted of four on one, alternately armed then unarmed, attackers then defender.
The call came through, as expected, a few marks after sunrise. Rafe withdrew from his group and headed over to Trevor. He indicated for Auraya to join them.
“Louis will arrive in about a mark,” he told the two.
“How long?” Trevor asked him.
“Four marks after midday,” he replied. “Be flexible.”
“Always.”
“Have the masks ready.”
“Don’t stress Rafe,” Trevor soothed with a comfortable smile and a squeeze of his shoulder. “We’re prepared.”
Rafe gave him a hard look before turning to Auraya.
“We are also ready,” she told him with a smile that told him he would soon be regretting his life choices.
Rafe sighed and took himself to his room. He washed up as best he could with the basin there, and then took himself to a rooftop in Ivy Harbour. He found Alan in the same place he had a half turn ago. Alan indicated the correct ship and Rafe watched as it docked and the crew began to unload its cargo. It took a mark or so for the particular cargo they were waiting for to be unloaded. A few familiar faces arrived with a cart and began to load the earthenware jars. There were more this time, perhaps three times as much. Probably to make up for the loss last time.
Whilst he watched, Rafe contacted several members of his team, ensuring they were in place. They all gave an affirmative response and then they waited. Two more carts were needed to recover all the goods. Alan followed them to the warehouse whilst Rafe waited and watched for Louis.
It took another mark for his kin to be free. He slipped away from the rest of the crew, meandering through the docks until he found an empty corner. In the next moment, Rafe sensed him at his side.
“Welcome home,” Rafe greeted. “Good work.”
“Thanks Rafe,” Louis gushed. “It was a lot of fun.”
“The producer?”
“Some fat lord type. I had to put down twelve at his manor. The warehouse they made it in was easy to burn down. Didn’t have time to find the farms.”
“How long until they sail out?”
“Three days.”
“Very well,” Rafe nodded. “Go rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
With a clap on Rafe’s shoulder, Louis took himself away. Rafe watched as the captain continued marching about the docks and his ship. His men steadily disappeared, until a small group remained with him. They spent some time talking amongst themselves. Soon after, Grace rose from his shadow. He indicated to her which man she needed to watch. Once Grace was in position, Rafe took himself to Alan.
His kin was crouched on a roof opposite the familiar looking compound. The lord had several warehouses full of goods inside a gated area. There were two guards stationed at the gate, and several workers milling about within.
It took no more than a quarter of a mark for their target to appear. The man hopped out of his carriage and sauntered through the gate. Rafe watched until he entered the lone building to the right of the gate. Once he went inside, Rafe bade Alan goodbye and took himself to the building’s roof. He then took himself slowly into the attic, being careful not to re-materialise inside one of the room’s objects. Using fore knowledge of the structure’s layout, he silently padded through the space. He heard the voices before he arrived. Several men and women were talking boisterously amongst themselves. When the door to the room opened with a bang, the room’s occupants quieted.
The man started off mumbling, until he was screaming.
“Get it right this time!” He rounded off. His tone lowered as he relayed orders to each of the men and women in the room. Rafe mentally made notes of where the shipments were going, relaying the information back to Seelie. It matched what they had found out in the past turn or so. Several key locations, in mostly the poorest parts of Jude would receive their shipments that day, and by night, it would be poisoning the streets.
Once everyone was dismissed, the man left shortly after. When the door had closed, Rafe slipped down into the man’s office and rifled through the documents on his desk, and in his drawers. It took little to no time to find what he needed; Reece had played his part well after all.
When he was done, he made his way back to Alan. After a quick conversation, Rafe headed back to the castle to wait with Trevor and his kin. They had amassed in the training yard. The tension was almost palpable in some of the younger ones. The youngest was only fourteen cycles, and this would be the first expedition for some of them. Everything had changed after the Choosing. The scale of this operation was nothing like what they would have done before. They would have killed the lord and burned his warehouse to the ground. They certainly wouldn’t have crossed the ocean. They were becoming bolder, and their priorities were steadily changing. Rafe believed they would be able to handle the changes, but it was clearly affecting some of the others.
Regardless, Rafe put it out of his mind. He was really only responsible for his own team. His quota for social interaction was usually drained after that.
The time dragged by slowly, so Rafe continued to practice moving objects without himself. A few of the steppers came to join him out of curiosity. One of the younger boys managed to move a rock by his foot. Rafe managed to move a rock from twenty feet away from him. It was arduous and consumed most of their concentration, but it was progress.
When the first call came in, Rafe went over to join Trevor and Seelie. She was keeping track of their kin and their objectives. The groups were divided, and burdens were passed out.
When the final signal came, Rafe rested his hands on the shoulders of his two companions and took them to a rooftop opposite a bakery in the north of Whitegate.
They all donned their masks, and Rafe took them to the shed behind the shop. He slowed his approach, and upon realising it was empty, he re-materialised. He directed his companions to ready the jars and walked over to the door of the shed. He pulled a note out of his pocket and nailed it to the outside of the door as quietly as he could. He then walked back over to his companions and took them and their load to the burial site. The burial team accepted their load, Rafe sent a confirmation through to Seelie, then took his companions to their next location.
Again, he landed on a roof opposite and watched for activity. Rafe took them to a similar looking shed at the rear of the shop. Whereas the last shed was filled with produce – flour, fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and such – this shed was full of reels of cloth, balls of wool, spools of thread and naked mannequins. The jars had likewise been stowed near the back of the shed.
Rafe materialised his group in an open space and was about to direct them to assemble the jars when the sound of the shed door opening forced them to hide. A young man walked into the shed and headed straight for the jars. He began tugging on the cork when the door banged open again.
“What d’you think your doing?” An older male shouted. His clothes were well made but composed of moderately expensive cloth. His accent seemed to mimic that of the nobility but slipped in places. Rafe presumed this was the owner of the tailors.
“I…” the boy stammered.
“I told you to go pick up that cloth, not stick your grubby hands where they don’t belong.”
The boy looked appropriately sheepish as he scampered out of the shed. The older man stared at the jars in disgust for a few beats before aggressively shutting the door on his way out.
Rafe waited for the sound of their retreat to diminish before venturing out of his hiding place. He directed his companions to arrange the jars then swiftly crept towards the door. He let his senses roam and found the yard to be empty. He placed a similar note on the door, and then went back to his companions. They left their load with the burial team, relayed their confirmation, and then ventured to their next stop.
This one would probably not be as simple as the last two. On the roof opposite the tavern, Rafe spied two guards attempting to casually hang around the entrance. Their gait looked relaxed at first, but upon closer inspection, Rafe could see the tension in their stiff shoulders, roaming eyes and twitchy fingers.
They all let their senses roam this time. To ensure the initial assessment they had been given remained the same. Two guards positioned out front, five people in the main room inside, seven below. That would probably include the owner, who was reported to be of moderate fighting ability. The guards looked to be hired mercenaries. Rafe sent a message to Seelie suggesting they start investigating all the mercenary companies in the region and assess their capabilities.
Rafe adjusted his mask, confirmed his companions were ready, and then took them to the basement below the tavern.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The fuss began immediately, Rafe had drawn his sword as soon as he materialised and thrust it straight into the back of an unsuspecting guard. His companions had made similar moves, one venturing to the right and the other the left. The former amputated an arm, and then sliced the guard’s side open, and the latter took the head of the closest guard, which Rafe was rightfully impressed with, given the tight space. The hollering and demands for reinforcement drew the rest of the company to them, but thanks to a narrow staircase, they arrived slowly and individually.
Rafe kicked his burden forward, dislodging his sword, then took himself upstairs. He positioned himself in front of the door and slashed the back of one of the unsuspecting sentries who had come to join the fray from outside. His companion swivelled, his face a picture of confusion, but he didn’t hesitate. He swung his sword at Rafe in a tight arc, forcing Rafe to use his talent to take himself just to the right of the swinging guard. He materialised as the guard’s arm was at a right angle to his body, so he thrust his own blade upwards, removing his sword hand. Before the man could register his loss, Rafe swivelled his blade and opened the man’s throat. He clearly wasn’t sure which wound was more deserving of his attention as he sank to his knees and gave himself over to the grave.
Rafe stepped over and past the two men and walked towards the noise. He let his senses go and picked up someone on the same floor as him, scurrying towards what was most likely the back door. Instead of rushing, he took himself to just in front of the man with his sword perpendicular to his chest. He braced his legs as the unsuspecting man thrust himself onto Rafe’s blade. Rafe watched as the confusion bled into shock and then rage, and finally fear, as blood dribbled from his mouth and into his goatee.
The man may have spoken, but Rafe wasn’t paying much attention, he was getting an update from Seelie. The other teams were nearly all in position for the next stage of attack.
Ensuring that the man was dead, Rafe began to walk back towards the basement. The noise had lessened but was still present. He would aid his kin putting the last of the guards down.
As he reached the door to the basement steps, however, a call came in from one of the other groups. One of their kin was injured. Rafe quickly descended the steps to see that there were only two guards left. They were quite skilled, and thus were holding their own, but he had faith in his kin. It didn’t help that they weren’t able to use their talent, but they didn’t want to leave evidence of magic use.
“Secure the premises until I return,” he informed his companions before taking himself away.
He arrived on a roof opposite a brothel and saw quite a ruckus in the street below. Scantily clad men and women littered the street in front of the establishment, screeching and crying and generally acting delirious. Rafe looked to his right and then his left. It did not appear like reinforcements, or the city guard were approaching. They were outside the city walls, so he did not have much faith in the latter, but he was uncertain about the former. He let his senses roam and then took himself to a large room on the second floor of the building. Inside he saw one of his kin lying on the floor, blood all around him, and two more fighting quite skilled guards. It was two on one, and his kin were evidently on the defensive, trying to protect their fallen comrade.
After a quick assessment, Rafe used his talent to take himself behind one guard and then another to incapacitate them, so his kin were left fighting one guard each. He then took himself to his fallen comrade and took them both back to the castle. He was met by Lisa who immediately set about healing his kin. He surveyed the injured and only saw two others. It pleased him.
He gave Seelie a nod, then took himself back to the brothel. They had backed the last man into a corner and were just doling out the last blow. One parried, slashing the guard’s chest, then the other stepped in and cut the guard’s throat. It was over in a matter of moments. When his kin turned around, neither of them looked satisfied at their accomplishment.
“He’ll be fine,” Rafe told them. It wasn’t much, but he believed and so should they.
When they left to unload the jars, Rafe went back to the tavern. He found his companions guarding the two entrances. He made himself known and then took them both to the basement. He retrieved the jars and made his way to the burial site.
After confirmation, they headed to the docks in Ivy Harbour and assembled with the other teams. A quick head count showed they were indeed only three down. Rafe made his way over to Trevor and was updated on the situation. His shadow walkers had managed to intercept any escapees or informers from the raids. Those marked for death had seen their end, whereas those who had been coerced into the affair were simply unconscious at their old home. As such, the warehouse guards were none the wiser. So too was Dennison.
There were only four in the warehouse that were marked for death. The rest were merely regular dock workers. They were employed by Dennison to cart goods to and from ships, and to whomever he sold his goods to. They were unaware most of the time what they were transporting and would not be punished for their ignorance. There were, however, four individuals who were just as culpable as the Lord Dennison. They had actively recruited – where recruitment involves kidnapping, beatings, and blackmail – multiple businesses around Jude to sell their product. Some, like the bakery and tailor had attempted to refuse, but after the first slap to a wife or child’s face the owners had relented quite quickly. The brothel and tavern owners, on the other hand, had been all too eager to poison the people of Jude. It was unfortunate that those that had seen them use their talent had to be eliminated, but they were not ready to be found out yet.
As one, they let their senses roam. Those heading to the warehouse would arrive in places they could instantly render the staff unconscious. It was a matter of timing and precision. Rafe left that to his kin and grasped Trevor’s bicep.
He took them to the roof of the building he had been on earlier that day. He was there for but a blink before they were in the attic. He walked them to the spot above the office next to the lord’s and listened to two men and a woman discussing their enterprise. One was missing.
Rafe looked at Trevor who gave him a nod after drawing his blade. Rafe did the same, then took them to the room below. They materialised behind the two men sitting in front of a woman, a desk in between them. As if choreographed, Rafe and Trevor thrust their blades through the backs of the men’s necks. The woman’s eyes widened in shock. She began to take a breath, to no doubt call in reinforcements, so Rafe took himself behind her and lightly pressed a dagger to her throat. She quieted before a noise could be made.
“Where is Lucius?” Rafe asked impassively.
“I…” she tried before gathering herself. She took a slow breath and twitched minutely. Trevor saw it, though. He walked around the desk and retrieved the dagger she had wanted to reach for.
“Uh-uh, darling,” he told her with a sweet smile.
“Lucius,” Rafe asked just as neutrally, pushing the blade a little harder into the soft flesh.
“Three doors down. To the left.”
Rafe relayed the information to Reece. After receiving confirmation that the deed was done, Rafe sliced the woman’s throat. He then confirmed that the warehouse teams had completed their objectives before taking them both to the burial site.
The burial team performed a final count before most of the teams were dismissed. A few were left to ensure the jars were safely placed underground.
“Good luck,” Trevor bade him with a mischievous grin before disappearing with his team.
Rafe rolled his eyes and then took himself to a roof opposite the Lord Dennison’s manor. There he found Auraya and Winnie waiting for him. Auraya’s hair had been darkened to almost black, it was such a distinctive colour that they were cautious for survivors to see it.
“It’s about time, Rafe,” Winnie huffed, not taking her eyes away from the entrance of the manor.
Rafe once again rolled his eyes before looking at Auraya.
“Good work,” she told him with a smug smile. Rafe felt the same. This was the biggest – and most widespread – operation they had ever led, and it was extremely satisfying that it had gone well so far. They both looked at the manor. This would be their final leg of the operation, and Rafe hoped it would go as smoothly as the rest of the day. He looked at Winnie’s feral grin and stifled a sigh.
They waited for the sun to set. They still had their kin surrounding the manor running interference. No one had managed to slip through yet, the lord would be none the wiser to his fallen enterprise.
When the sun finally slipped under the horizon a little while later, they began to ready themselves. Masks were put in place and swords were drawn. Rafe placed a hand on both their shoulders and took them to the front yard of the manor.
Instantly, movement came to a halt. The guards at the front gate came crashing towards them, as did those at the front entrance of the mansion. The clash of swords rang out within moments of their arrival. They parried to disarm and knock unconscious. No blood was spilt. A surge of guards came from around the left side of the mansion and out the front doors. A quick count showed roughly twenty-five. One of the guards pushed his way to the front of the group, clearly the leader.
“Enough,” he shouted. His men backed off, but the three kept their guard up. They were effectively blocking the exit, but the guards did not look like they wanted to flee. They were thus not aware that they were trapped.
Winnie slowly backed up to a bench and stood on it. Before the lead guard could speak again, she addressed the crowd.
“Your lord has been supplying rilium to Jude,” she shouted. It caused enough confusion that the lead guard cut off what he was about to say. “We have destroyed his enterprise. And we have now come for his head.” She took a deep breath. “Leave or die!”
She jumped down and began walking towards the crowd of guards. Rafe couldn’t see her covered face, but he knew that he would see a smirk if he could.
“Stop right there,” the lead guard cried, determination overriding his earlier confusion. He advanced on Winnie as she ignored him. When she was within striking distance, he aimed to take out her legs. Winnie jumped over his sword and let her own drag along his neck as she made her way around him. He fell to the floor choking desperately and clutching his neck.
There was quiet for a beat. A guard looked incredulously at Winnie.
“He was warned,” she told him whilst shrugging.
That seemed to spur the rest into motion. Probably half decided they would try their luck by fighting. The rest seemed to stand in a trance or attempt to slip off. The service staff had long since run away from the ruckus.
When the guards began their attack, Auraya took up position to Winnie’s right. The two of them ploughed through the guards like they were merely inconveniences. They were taught to ensure that their attacks or counterattacks were lethal. Most of them still had cycles until they were grown, getting into a battle of endurance with an opponent would most likely be unfavourable for them. They trained rigorously and had fantastic stamina, but a hill versus a mountain is still disadvantaged. As such, side by side, the girls took down guard after guard without hesitation or remorse.
Rafe spent most of his time at the back, ensuring no-one snuck around and tried to catch them unawares. He watched as the girls stepped around each other, cutting down man after man in a beautifully macabre dance.
They made their way into the house, presenting the same offer to those who may not have heard it. They were to leave, or they were to die. Winnie would only inform them once. None of the service staff put up a fight, but that was to be expected. They poured out of the house as if it were on fire. Most of the guards in the house tried their hand at the trio and came out of the altercation dead. The halls were painted red in their wake, until finally they came upon their destination.
Winnie knocked like the obnoxious little maniac she was.
“Um… hello,” she called sweetly. “We’re here for the Lord Dennison.”
Muffled complaints and threats came through the door, which were promptly ignored.
“Surrender or die! Five… Four… Three…” Winnie nodded at Rafe. “Two…” Rafe sheathed his sword and grasped their shoulders. “One.”
They entered the room to see five guards standing protectively in a semi-circle formation around their lord. Most looked shocked at their entrance, but one of them recovered quickly and began to speak.
Auraya moved first this time. She did not give him the chance to utter even a syllable. She moved herself in front of him and pierced his throat, then took herself back, sword hanging loosely at her side, eyes impassive. Winnie giggled then threw herself forward to engage two of the guards. Auraya took the other two whilst the lord soiled his breaches in the furthest corner of the room.
Seeing the matter was well in hand, Rafe took himself to the burial site. He retrieved the single jar that had been left for him. He asked for an update from his kin and found that all had gone well. They had easily buried the jars deep underground and sent the rest of their kin to the castle. After they were done, he dismissed them – as their job was now done – and took himself and the jar back to the office. There he found five corpses piled in the corner of the room and a half naked lord strung up on bare vines in the middle of the room. Winnie was sat on the desk, mask down, legs swinging. Auraya was standing in front of the lord, staring at him silently. Dennison was clearly unnerved. He was quietly crying as his eyes flitted around the room.
Auraya looked over her shoulder when Rafe appeared. Her eyes slid to the jar, and she smiled. She turned back to the lord as Rafe went to make himself comfortable on the far wall.
Auraya lowered her mask, causing the lord to frown. She shook her head and her hair slowly brightened to its usual colour of flame. Recognition dawned on the man’s face as he looked Auraya over.
“You?” Dennison breathed. “You can’t do this!”
“I think you’ll find that I can, Lord Dennison,” Auraya told him calmly.
“You haven’t even attended the Crowning yet,” he spat. “You’re still nothing but an orphan from the slums.”
“That’s not why I can, my lord,” she told him, still as calm as ever. “My kin and I have been disposing of trash like you for cycles.”
His eyes glazed for a few moments. “Davers,” he queried without inflection as he focused again.
“Indeed,” Auraya confirmed, pacing slowly in front of him. “One of many we have removed.”
“You won’t get away with this,” he shouted frantically. “I have powerful allies.”
“Don’t you worry yourself about us, my lord. We will destroy any and all opposition to our new world.”
The Lord looked around desperately, as if an exit might present itself if he looked hard enough.
Auraya stepped closer to him, drawing her dagger as she went. Dennison seemed to be working himself into quite a frenzy with each step she took. He alternated between crying and begging, and threatening and cursing. It was quite pitiful to watch. A gentle touch to the man’s chest stilled his movements. His eyes were wide and wild, strangled noises escaped his paralysed throat, and yet more urine joined them in the room.
Winnie let out a disgusted noise. Rafe was quiet, although he agreed with the sentiment.
The man’s eyes scrunched as the dagger raked over his skin. His cries became even more pained but were still muffled by Auraya’s magic. She didn’t spend a long time in front of him before she stepped back to look over her handiwork. After the inspection and a nod of approval, she wiped her hands and her dagger on the man’s discarded tunic.
Rafe looked at the words she had carved, ‘HE DIED AS HE LIVED’. Fitting. But also, ambiguous. And mostly nonsense. The lord did not partake of his own product, but he would die by it. He had flooded Jude with rilium, destroying lives and ‘keeping the poor in their place’, as he had stated. He would see his end just like so many else had because of him.
Auraya nodded at the jar, and Rafe used his newest skill to move it from beside himself to next to Auraya. Between the two girls, they force fed the lord as much as they could until he took his last breath. They rubbed it in his wounds and Winnie created more to poke into. Rafe rifled through the man’s documents whilst the girls worked. He found what he needed quite easily.
Once they were done, they laid him on his desk; his arms, legs, and head hanging off the sides.
Rafe went over to the two when they were satisfied and took them both to the castle. Not a moment too soon either, the city guard had finally arrived. They had been kept apprised of their progress whilst they were in the lord’s house. Regardless of the lord’s wealth, the city guard were unorganised and slow on the best of days. With all the attacks that had happened in and around the city, they were straggling.
A bath was all Rafe could think about after his day. He scrubbed and the soaked until his skin was deliciously wrinkled. He headed back to his room and was about to change for sleep when he felt the call of his name. In a blink he was with Tristan.
A fire was lit, and bowls of stew were being handed out. Tristan thrust a bowl into his hands with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Long day?” Tristan asked.
“You could say that,” Rafe replied with a shrug.