Quickburned

Omens

Five years and a day or so ago...

As omens went, the fact that the first thing the Rattlegorge Riders saw coming into Clearstone was a swinging corpse was not a great one. It was the local sheriff, by the armor and the symbol on the shoulder of the breastplate. A typical move for Mezir, the warlord the gang had come to the town for in the first place.

Truth be told they'd been in Clearstone for a while now. The town didn't have so many folk, but it sprawled; an old dog spreading out to sun its bones in the sun. This part of town was the closest Clearstone had to "dense"—the original settlement, smaller houses and buildings built close together for mutual protection against land, mortal, and immortal alike.

Caleb had spent the better part of his childhood running through the back-streets and alleys here following his two older brothers. When his Pa hadn't dragged caught the three of them and dragged them out by the ear to the ranch they worked further west, that is.

Two larger open spaces anchored each end; the temple and provost's house on the north and the guildhall (not the Guild, just Clearstone's local craftsmen and traders) and storefronts to the south. There weren't walls, exactly, but a ring of posts around the edge where they hung lanterns, or festival banners on occasion, or wards when times were real bad.

It was from one of these poles the body hung, half-tangled in an old, tattered pennant. Familiarity nagged at him as Caleb rode closer to the hanging body and studied its slack features. Realization dawned at the same moment Zoran's anguished shout rang out from behind him.

"Rada! Rada!" Zoran was already down off his bay gelding and running, his brimmed hat forgotten in the sand. "They got my sister, boss! Rada! Help me get her down; I gotta get her down - guys!"

Rada. Caleb was swinging down from his saddle only half a heartbeat behind Zoran, intercepting the younger man before he could get too far. "Zoran, lissen t'me - wait -"

Rada. Rada had been as close to him as his own sisters, and the two of them had been flirting around young love before Caleb had left town with his brothers and Zoran. There was a soft spot in his heart for Rada, but a glance at the rest of his Rattlers stalled the incipient grief in its tracks. They had a job to do. He couldn't afford to go to pieces, and neither could he allow Zoran to do so either.

His buddy was struggling in his grip, throwing wild swings, trying to get away, straining towards the gently swaying body. Zoran spewed curses in every language he knew, Flametongue and worse, at Caleb, at Mezir, at the gods—"Boss, my sister! They strung her up—lemme go—"

Caleb shook him, and when that didn't work, hooked a foot behind Zoran's and knocked him flat on his arse. The yelling stopped as Zoran caught his breath, and Caleb hunkered down over him. "Lissen. Lissen t'me, Zo. This ain't the time. I hear you, believe me, I do - but we gotta job t'do. I need you here, now, with me, you got it? Grieve later. Work now."

"Caleb..." Zoran said, gray eyes wild. He subsided into pale but determined, grabbing at Caleb's arm till his fingers turned white. "Caleb, it's Rada..."

"I know. I know, pal. Work. Now. Grieve. Later. We both will, alright? Drinks on me." Caleb shook him again, just a little, and stood up, hauling Zoran up after him. He strode back over to the body, and had just opened his mouth to order her cut down, when a flicker of motion where there ought to be none caught his attention.

A sentry thudded open the door of the nearest bungalow, the rickety plank construction rebounding off the wall with a shudder. Two more emerged from the house across the road. "Oy. You lot, what're you doing here?"

Caleb turned on his heel and sauntered towards the sentry. He caught the eyes of Istalki and Shade, his left hand in the gang; they fell into step just behind him. "Howdy, fellas. We're here on business, y'might say. Got a delivery for yer master."