Chapter 28
The Serpent's Pass
The house on Oak Lane was quiet, the only sound the soft crackle of the dying hearth fire. Renly finished checking the straps on his travel pack—dried Tusker jerky, a full waterskin, the vials of hunting poison carefully wrapped in cloth, and a bedroll. He turned to Lyra and Will, who watched him with a mixture of worry and excitement.
"I'll be away for three, maybe four days," he said, his voice low. "This is a team mission with the City Guard. Will, keep your ears open in the markets. I want to know everything about the Count's new potion shops and any shifts in the political winds. Lyra, the house is in your hands. Trust Bess and Old Thom, but keep a close eye on our supplies and expenses."
"Be safe, my lord," Lyra said, her hands clasped tightly.
"We'll hold everything steady until you return," Will added, his chest puffed out with the importance of his task.
Sleep came easily, the calm before the storm. At the first hint of dawn, he was already moving. He donned his armor, the polished steel plates and chainmail settling onto his body with a familiar, heavy comfort. The new longsword slid into its scabbard with a satisfying hiss. He strapped his pack to Aethon's saddle. The warhorse, sensing the impending action, stamped a hoof and blew steam into the chilly morning air.
The Mercenary Guild was a hub of controlled chaos. Bary was already there, a mountain of muscle and steel astride a massive, jet-black warhorse. The beast's mane was unusually thick and coarse, almost like wire.
"Renly! Good, you're punctual," Bary boomed, patting his horse's neck. "This is Midnight. His grandsire was one of the Black Mane tribe's stallions from the eastern plains. Tough as nails and doesn't spook." Beside him, Mark sat on a more ordinary-looking steed, his sharp eyes already scanning the surroundings. A small group of Bary's fighters were loading supplies onto three mules.
As they rode towards the city gate, Bary laid out the financial terms. "The split will be by contribution, agreed? My men and I are the bulk of the force, so we take the lion's share. You and the Guard Knight get a significant cut for taking on the leaders. Fair?"
"Fair," Renly agreed. The connection and the experience were his primary targets; the silver was a welcome bonus.
At the city gate, Anya was waiting. She sat perfectly still on a handsome, deep-brown mare, its coat well-groomed and its conformation excellent. Renly recognized the traits of a Highland half-blood, a breed prized by kingdom nobles for their steady temperament and incredible endurance. The horse, like its rider, was a study in efficient, contained power. Anya had braided her black hair tightly against her scalp, her expression one of detached professionalism.
"Let's move," was her only greeting before turning her horse and leading the way out of the city.
The journey took them east, away from the fertile Rose Valley and into the rugged foothills that marked the beginning of the Serpent's Pass. The trade route was a well-maintained but narrow road winding between increasingly steep slopes. Bary and Anya took the lead, discussing the route in low tones.
"The hideout is in a box canyon off the main pass," Bary explained when Renly drew alongside. "Used to be an old mining camp. The Vipers have been hitting caravans for two months now. Count Henry of Blackstone is furious; it's disrupting the ore shipments to his forges. He's putting pressure on our Count to clear the route."
Renly nodded, the mention of Blackstone again stirring the ghost of a memory—a starving scholar in a muddy alley, a world away. The landscape grew wilder, the air thinner and colder. They pushed a hard pace, Anya's Highland mare setting a relentless, ground-eating trot that the other horses matched.
They reached the mouth of the box canyon just as the sun began to dip below the peaks, casting long, deep shadows. The entrance was narrow, hidden by a stand of twisted pines.
"Mark," Bary said, dismounting. "Eyes and ears."
The lean man nodded, his nostrils flaring slightly as he tapped into his Canine Sense bloodline. He melted into the gathering gloom without a sound.
The main group made a cold camp in a sheltered hollow a half-mile back, no fires allowed. The tension was palpable. As full darkness fell, Mark returned, his movements silent as a ghost.
"Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three men," he reported, his voice a low whisper. "The leader's there, big fellow, wears a patchwork of looted armor. I saw him heft a massive axe one-handed—definitely Knight-level strength. Two deputies are easy to spot: one's a brute who matches Bary's description of the True Warrior, the other moves like a weasel, probably one of the Peak Squires. The hideout is the old mine foreman's shack and a few tents. They've got a single sentry posted at the canyon mouth, but he's bored and half-asleep."
With the information gathered, the three leaders huddled.
"Plan is simple," Bary grunted. "At first light, we hit them hard and fast. Anya, you take the leader. I'll handle the True Warrior deputy. Renly, you occupy the other Peak Squire deputy and then help my men mop up the rabble. My ten will form a skirmish line and engage the bulk of the bandits."
Anya nodded. "Agreed. However, I have one condition. Any documents, letters, or personal effects found on the bandits or in the shack are mine. I'm to bring them back for the Guard's investigation. You can have the weapons and any other loot."
Bary's eyes gleamed. "Deal! Silver and steel are what we're after." He seemed perfectly happy to let her have what he saw as useless paper.
But Renly felt a flicker of suspicion. Why was a City Guard Knight, on a private mission, so interested in documents? It hinted at a deeper investigation, one she wasn't sharing.
With the plan set, Anya stood. "I'll take my rest. We assemble an hour before dawn." She moved off to where her mare was tethered, a solitary figure exuding quiet authority.
As she left, Renly turned to Bary. "Why not a night attack? They're complacent. We could take them in their sleep."
Bary looked at him as if he'd suggested they fly to the moon. "Are you mad, lad? Fighting in the dark? Half my men can barely see a dozen feet in this gloom. You'd have us stumbling over each other, cutting down our own. No, daylight is the only way."
The answer clicked into place in Kaelen's mind. Night blindness. It was a common affliction in pre-industrial societies due to Vitamin A deficiency. These people, even trained fighters, were practically blind in the low light. It was a stark reminder of the technological and biological gulf between his two realities.
"I'll take the first watch," Renly offered. "My eyes are good in the dark." It was a small advantage, but in this world, it was a significant one.
Bary clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. Wake me in four hours."
The night passed slowly. Renly stood watch, his Enhanced senses and Federation-conditioned eyes easily piercing the darkness that would have been impenetrable to the others. He listened to the sounds of the forest and the faint, careless laughter drifting from the bandit camp. He thought about Anya's interest in documents and the political tension in Rose City. This was more than a simple bandit hunt.
As the first hint of grey touched the eastern sky, he woke Bary. Silently, the team assembled. Weapons were checked, armor straps tightened. They moved into position, creeping through the pre-dawn mist to the mouth of the canyon, hiding among the rocks and trees. The bored sentry was still at his post, yawning widely.
They were a coiled spring, waiting for the sun to rise and the signal to strike. The Serpent's Pass held its breath.