Late in the evening Hellrien and Ingrandor stopped a short way away from the top of the tall ridge to avoid revealing their silhouettes and peered down to the rolling fields where the Dogwood farm lied. The farm was situated southeast of the Everclear lakes and separated from Thornley’s lands by a small brook that streamed southward along the Greenway. The mercenaries could discern a large building atop a tall stone plinth in the gloom, apparently the farmhouse. Near the farmhouse stood a tall windmill, and next to it was erected rambling fences for horses and cattle. The wings of the windmill didn’t move, but merely cast their ornate shadows on the yard. There was light in the windows, and sparks dancing about the chimney. Hellrien looked around. The farm was surrounded by the lakes and the brook on the northern and eastern side and the tall ridge in the south. On the western side vast fields stretched westwards, and a clear road stretched across the farm and the fields. Below the ridge there was a sizable pasture between the ridge and the dirt road. The pasture was paradisiacally green and lush and the terrain below the ridge mostly flat. Hellrien lifted her gaze towards the moon that had risen above a tall ridge on the eastern horizon.
”Very quiet”, Ingrandor opined. ”Too quiet.”
”Or maybe they are just overly sure of themselves?” Hellrien pondered.
”We left one alive though. Maybe they are waiting.”
Hellrien looked around again. They couldn’t afford to approach the farm through the pasture. The moonlight was very bright and a vigilant watcher could have easily spotted two riders coming down the hill. But the brook by the Greenway was bordered by leafy, shadowy trees. Using the cover of the trees they could get very close to the farmhouse.
”We better leave the horses and approach on foot”, Ingrandor suggested.
”Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.”
Ingrandor motioned to their right. ”At the trees by the water so that its sound covers theirs.”
”Sounds good.”
Ingrandor led his horse to a lone tree by the brook and jumped down from the saddle. Then he tied the reins around a branch and stroked the horse. The animal started grazing and Ingrandor adjusted the shield on his back, his mace ready to be pulled at any moment. Hellrien walked her horse over there too and wrapped the reins around the tree. She picked up her bow from the saddle and slung it across her shoulder. She looked around and fixed her attention on the paddocks and animal shelters with stone walls. Ingrandor was leaning against the tree and looking at the house again now that they were closer.
”I think we should go around back, see the paddocks there?” Hellrien said.
”Yes. We can look inside too from there maybe.”
”At least somebody's in there...”
Ingrandor drew his mace so that it wouldn’t hit against his armor while moving and running. ”Let's see who it is then.”
”Okay, follow me.”
Hellrien sprinted soundlessly across the pasture towards the far corner of the paddock. As she crossed the dirt road she noticed deep tracks of cartwheels in the mud. What the hell had the men in the farm needed the carts for? What heavy objects they had been transporting?
Before long she had reached the fence of the paddock. Ingrandor was right behind her.
”I think we better get behind that wall”, Ingrandor said, pointing at the animal shelter inside the paddock. ”It gives us more cover.”
He jumped over the fence and ended up behind the stone wall of the shelter and ducked there. Hellrien followed, pressed herself against the wall and breathed in. As she peeked over the wall she saw that the farmhouse was blocked from view by another stone shelter on the other side of the paddock.
”Damn, we have no visual”, she said.
”It's empty, we can get to the one next to the house. Or even against the house.”
”Let's get closer at least.”
Silently the two sellswords sneaked across the paddock and entered the shelter. They ducked behind the wall and peered over it. They had a straight view to the western wall of the house no more than ten yards away from them, and Hellrien noticed a heavy cart laden with big wooden crates below the window.
”What do you see?” Ingrandor whispered.
Hellrien sharpened her senses. There was a heavy scent of oil and iron in the air. Hellrien thought she had felt it before, but it was even stronger now that they were closer to the farmhouse.
”Lights in the window”, she responded. ”I wonder what's in those crates over there?”
”Something interesting maybe. Let's open them. Keep an eye out. I will go and open one.”
”Alright. Be careful.”
Ingrandor sneaked around the shelter and approached the cart carefully. As he came closer he saw that there was something written on the crates: ”This side up” and ”Handle with care – machinery”. He pried the crate open and seemed to be twiddling with something inside it. He removed something, hid it under his belt and then returned to the stall the same way he had left. Ingrandor extended his left arm towards Hellrien, offering her the piece to see. It looked like a small gear.
”Some kind of a machine, maybe a siege machine? I kept something for myself to remember.”
”I don’t know”, Hellrien said. ”I haven’t seen anything like that before.”
Suddenly the farmhouse door opened.
Hellrien froze still like a stick. Ingrandor ducked behind the fence and took his helmet off. Then he brought his head up a little to take a look. An unnaturally large shadow had appeared on the stairhead on the southern side of the house, and a bright yellow spotlight was geared towards the front yard. They could hear voices clearly from ten yards distance.
”What's the matter, Crampbark?”
”Can't a man take a goddamn leak without being questioned?”, graveled a coarse voice.
The door was shut again. The heavy-set creature stood on the stairhead for a moment and seemed to stare straight to the spot where the two sellswords were lurking. As a matter of fact Eilert Crampbark was looking at the paddock behind them.
”It's going to be a clear night, lads!” he suddenly shouted.
Hellrien started. She had to push all her strength not to tremble.
Crampbark walked past the shelters and the cart to the back of the house. Hellrien had a little morbid feeling, spying a grown man relieving himself. After a characteristic small jerk Crampbark was ready to return inside.
”That did look like an orc…” Ingrandor muttered.
Hellrien drew breath. Minutes passed by. Light was still glowing in the window. A shadow moved in it. The window was opened, and they could clearly hear the voice.
”Do you wish to ruin our lungs, Seyton?”
”You can deal with it. Damn, the smell in this place! Mr. Toadflax isn't used to this kind of... atmosphere.”
Hellrien wasn’t listening anymore. Her brain was working at full capacity. Toadflax – Seyton Redweed’s financier, the crooked merchant from Treslebridge! What was he looking for here? And when had he arrived to Dogwood’s farm?
Hellrien’s scalp started to tingle. If only she could sneak below the window without being noticed! She started estimating angles and distances. Yes, it was possible.
”Should we take a risk and try to position next to the house to hear them better?” Hellrien whispered.
”Yes. We are in the wolves' den anyway. I think that a fight is inevitable. After you.”
Hellrien retreated out of the shelter and climbed the wooden fence, heading towards the cart at the western end of the house. Hellrien knew that they would be spotted if anyone in the house decided to take a look out of the window right now.
When she was finally able to stretch herself against the wall she grasped the hilt of her right-hand sword and looked at the window. She could hear the voices vaguely. A couple of outbursts of laughter echoed from wooden walls. Hellrien sneaked below the window like a cat and stood there. Ingrandor put the helm on again and leaned against the wall with his back, listening carefully.
”…take much more”, said a voice. ”The Thornley bunch is about to get the hell out.”
”I wouldn't be so sure”, said a youthful, clear voice. ”They've been through a lot already. That Thornley woman sure is persistent!”
A coarse voice blustering with authority grunted a response to that: ”What about those two who killed Horehound and his gang yesterday? What have you found out about them?”
”Oh look”, Ingrandor whispered. ”It’s about us.”
Hellrien felt herself getting damp with sweat as she stood there listening. She felt like the men were talking straight above her head. She felt the smell of smoke floating out of the open window in her nostrils.
”One of them was a woman”, said a nasal voice – like someone who’s nose has just been broken. ”Kind of tall and strong-looking. She had lots of scars on her face, and a grayish sort of hair.”
”I want to see how many there are in there”, Ingrandor whispered.
Hellrien was also aching to take a peek inside, but the window was too high up. She would have had to stand on Ingrandor’s shoulders to manage that.
”But – i just met a woman who looked like that not too long ago in Trestlebridge. It can't be the same, can it?”
Ingrandor raised a brow and turned to face Hellrien. The man who had just spoken was Toadflax.
”How will you do that?” Hellrien whispered.
”I don't know. I will take a look on the other side of the building. Stay here.”
”Okay.”
Ingrandor hunched down and walked to the back of the building.
”Kip gave us a fairly good description of them”, grunted a voice that must have belonged to Crampbark. ”The man was dark and pale-eyed and they both had a flair for the sword-play. Horehound and his crew were no slouches either, but this duo sliced them all and winged Kip. The woman has to be the same you met in Trestlebridge! Or what do you think, Toadflax?”
”At least the description fits”, Toadflax admitted. ”But what are they doing here?”
”Perhaps they followed me”, suggested a soft, low voice that made Hellrien prick up her ears instinctively. That had to be Seyton Redweed!
”What would they be following you for?” Toadflax peeped. ”Nobody can suspect the way you received the money, how could they?”
Eilert Crampbark grunted: ”If they have somehow managed to get a wind of it, we have to assume that Bruner Stouttrush has sent them.”
”I don’t know”, Toadflax mumbled. ”I really don’t.”
”We have only one chance”, Crampbark pondered. ”We have to waste them both as fast as possible.”
”And efficiently”, Toadflax cawed. ”We have no more room for blunders now. I haven’t invested 250 gold coins into this venture just to lose it all to Stouttrush!”
Ingrandor returned and whispered to Hellrien: ”There is a trapdoor that leads below the house, probably a cellar and the fence on the other side is adjacent to the house. If we get on it we can look through the windows, if the room they are at is the same as the other side. Based on the size I doubt it.” He grinned under his helmet. ”Did they say anything about the charming man who fought them?”
”Just that they didn't know who you were. They presumed – correctly – that Bruner Stouttrush sent us for the money Toadflax and Seyton robbed from him.”
”I see. What do you want to do?”
As if he had heard Ingrandor’s question, Crampbark’s voice replied from above: ”Let's attack Thornley's farm and worksite tonight. Burn the whole place down, kill everyone who doesn't flee!”
”I think that's our answer...” Ingrandor whispered, looking at the window.
”Close the window now. It's getting cold here”, Crampbark said.
The window slammed shut, and the voices disappeared.
”We got to do something – and tonight”, Hellrien whispered.
”We either attack here and now or we get to the farm, take everyone out and ambush them.”
”How about we also set a fire to the windmill before we go – that oughta slow them down?”
”I like it.”
”Ambushing is easier, as we still have no idea how many there are of them.”
”Yes. Let's start a fire and go warn the Thornleys.”
”I counted at least six voices, but there's probably more who didn't say a word. In any case a lot more than us, and that farmhouse is like a fortress.”
”And they will probably have others in waiting.”
Hellrien relaxed for a moment and then started sneaking towards the windmill, trying to remain in the shadows as much as possible. Ingrandor followed, keeping an eye on the window to make sure nobody spotted them. Hellrien reached the door of the windmill. Ingrandor hid behind the corner watch the farmhouse. The door was closed with a long latch and a bolt. She lifted the bolt carefully from it’s retainer, let it down cautiously and opened the lock. The rusted metal gave an agonizing screech, and then Hellrien slipped inside, breathing in clean air smelling of hay, manure and tools. As she stood there she could sense the other smell too – the stink of oil and iron. When her eyes had adjusted better to the darkness she began discerning details in the room. It seemed Crampbark was using the windmill as a tool shed and a warehouse. Lying around she saw plowshares, farming tools, reels of iron wire, fenceposts and rough timber, straw bales and a large number of wooden crates with iron wire wrapped around them. Hellrien advanced cautiously. Moonlight filtered through dirty windows. In the moonlight she could read the same words on many of the crates: ”This side up” and ”Handle with care – machinery”.
Hellrien approached one of the crates. There was a hole in the backside of the crate. Hellrien slipped a hand through it, cursed the darkness and wondered if she dared to light a match to investigate the crates closer. She decided to go for it, scraped the match inside the crate and shaded the light with her body.
She looked at the strange contraption consisting of pumps, pipes, rods, pistons and gears with a baffled expression upon her face. She had no idea what the thing was or what it was supposed to do, but it didn’t look like a part of an siege engine to her. She whispered through a crack in the wall:
”There are more crates here. It's full of them. What in the world are they doing?”
Hellrien let the match go out and crushed it between her fingers while she was thinking about things. She lit another match to investigate another crate. This one was filled with red tiles.
”More machines, tiles, tools...”
”If they controlled this side they may want to lay siege to Bree for some reason?” Ingrandor’s voice whispered from the outside. ”We know that many bandits work with Angmar.”
Hellrien stroked the smooth metal of the machine and grinned fiendishly. The mystery had to wait, it was time to get to work.
”And lots of hay. I love it. Should burn like a bonfire.”
Hellrien dragged several straw bales on and around the crates. While working she had a feeling like somebody was poking her back with a sharp tip of a sword. Straw dust stuck on her nose, sweaty forehead and neck before she was ready. Now she had no choice anymore – she had to light a fire and run for her life.
Hellrien pulled the slouch of her hat down over her eyes properly. Once she had made sure the windmill door was ajar she scraped the match and threw it on the dry straws. The bales caught fire and burned with yellowish flame. Hellrien spent a few moments watching the flames spreading with increasing speed. When she ran out of the door the fire flared up into a proper conflagration.
Running for her life, she jumped over the fence and ran across the paddock, over another fence and onto the pasture towards the temptingly dark ridge. She could hear shocked shouting from behind her. The shimmer of the fire cast a shadow in front of her. She heard intense crackling and glanced quickly over her shoulder.
The lower half of the windmill was already covered in flames. Dry hay and straw bales burned like gunpowder. Several dark figures skittered back and forth across the yard. Burning tufts of straw were raining everywhere, and sparks cascaded high in the sky.
Finally Hellrien reached the bank of the creek and the first tree. Her lungs were working fiercely and she could sense the bitter taste of copper on her tongue. When she finally found the horses, her head was spinning. The animals were jerking their reins and neighing nervously. She turned around now to get a good look of her handiwork. The whole windmill was now in flames and the nearest fence had caught fire as well. Crampbark’s gang was running around in panic. Hellrien could hear their terrified, desperate shouts. One of the animal shelters had started to smoke and fume, and suddenly the flames swallowed it too. Hellrien started counting the shadows skittering about.
”That’s a nice sight”, Ingrandor said, hung the mace back on his belt and took the reins of his horse.
”...seven, eight... nine of them? Am I right?”
”I think so? I only saw five. But the movement’s a lot to be just five.”
Hellrien hoisted herself up on the saddle with a harsh smile upon her face.
”Well, that should keep them busy for tonight. Let's get out of here!”
