Chapter 4 Mission Implausible
Two days later...
Ashlyn was in the kitchen just about to take a bite of that delectable, newly-constructed pastrami sandwich when she felt the oncoming tingle of a Trump call. It was Benedict.
"Ashlyn. I hope that I am not disturbing you," he said all business-like.
"Of course not. What is it?" she replied with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood a little, but Benedict seemed impassive as he usually was.
"I am holding a meeting here in the Purple Room and your presence is requested right away," he said in a tone that didn’t invite debate. He instantly cut the contact. Ashlyn sighed, took a longing look at the sandwich before she reluctantly covered it with her napkin and handed it off to a servant. She noted the protesting growl her stomach was giving as she left the inviting warmth of the kitchen and left to join Benedict.
When she arrived she wasn’t a bit surprised to find that Pandora, Blake, Finch and Vincent were already there. She wordlessly nodded her acknowledgement to her uncle and took her seat.
"Now that we’re all here," Benedict began. "I have been handed an assignment from Random and I agree that it is a good course of action." Ashlyn began to fidget a little. Benedict didn’t need approval for anything or from anyone—even the king. But no one was saying anything, or even reacting any differently and Benedict continued.
"Trade had come to an absolute standstill in the Golden Circle because of Dalt and his Marauders of Erignore, consisting entirely of Weir. You are being sent to hunt down Dalt and kill him—whatever it takes. I’m putting Ashlyn in charge."
Ashlyn was stunned for a moment. She wasn’t even sure if she had heard correctly, at first, but by the look Benedict was giving her, she was sure now.
"Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, why me? I realize the importance of this mission, and in the best interest of this mission I don’t feel that I’m the one to lead it. Being the one in command is not a very good idea in my opinion," Ashlyn spoke her mind, not looking at anyone else and not caring of what they thought. Benedict paused with a brief look of surprise that was replaced with a look of thoughtfulness as he stroked his chin.
"Ashlyn, first, let me thank you. Candor from anyone is extremely rare. I commend that. However, I feel that the experience will be good for you. You are still in charge," he said with a genuine smile. Ashlyn suddenly felt as if a great weight was placed onto her shoulders and couldn’t help but notice that Blake was trying to smother a smile and suppress a giggle, but was doing poorly at it.
Kill Dalt. It sounds easy, in a nutshell. Ashlyn looked around the group from face to face. No one showed any outward sign of displeasure with the mission. Pandora looked resolute and ready to take on any assignment. Every one was acting as if nothing was wrong.
Had everyone lost a screw or two? Did Random? or Benedict for going along with it? Killing Dalt. That’s just plain suicide! Or are we so good that Random thinks we can actually pull it off?
"So what now, fearless leader?" Blake asked with a broad smile, interrupting her thoughts.
"Let’s hear any ideas you’ve got. Otherwise, get your gear and we’ll meet in the main hall in about an hour," Ashlyn seemed a little flabbergasted. "I’m going to investigate this a little more."
Ashlyn hurried to her room and pulled out her Trump deck. She shuffled through the deck until she had found the one she was looking for. She settled herself into an easy chair and began to concentrate on the card. It took a moment, but the contact went through.
"Ash! Would this be a social call?" Luke greeted from the throne in Kashfa.
"Not really, Renny. I do need to talk to you, though. You busy?" she asked as she shifted in her seat.
"Not at all, since trade here has come to a virtual standstill," he replied with a sigh and rested his chin on his hand. "You look tense. What’s up?"
"Let’s just say Uncle Benedict has decided to add to my responsibilities," Ashlyn replied almost glumly.
"Can’t be all that bad," Luke coaxed. "He having you and the cousins check into the Trade standstill?"
"You know who’s behind it all, don’t you?" she asked with a nod.
"Yes. It’s Dalt," Luke sighed heavily again.
"I thought he was your best friend," Ashlyn said quietly. "Did you two have a falling out?"
"I guess so. Let’s just say that we aren’t exactly getting along well right now. But he says he’s going "easy" on me by just taking my wagons and goods and not killing the merchants that are aboard," he said glumly. "He calls that easy? It’s killing the economy!" His brow was deeply furrowed and he was frowning. He had slammed his fist hard on the arm of the throne.
"Hey. Mom said your face would freeze if you keep making that face. Anyway, I’ve been asked to look into all the hijackings. Believe it or not, Uncle Benedict has put me of all people in charge. Think I could set up a caravan with you that will go out of Kashfa?" Ashlyn asked.
"I suppose I could. I think I see what you’re driving at. No wonder you’re so tense! It’s all right. I think I could help you. No one seems brave enough to go up against Dalt. I knew Random would send someone sooner or later," Luke said with a little shake of his head. "But why is he sending you? Oh, never mind. I suppose Random knows what he’s doing. I’ll take care of it. Talk to you later?"
"Yes," Ashlyn gave a little smile as she cut the contact. She couldn’t help but feel as if a heavy stone were sitting in the pit of her stomach.
How do you tell your brother that you’re supposed to go off and kill his friend?
She knew she was starting off right with the caravan, but had that unsure feeling of where to go with this plan. Then it hit her. Why not keep Kashfa busy with organizing a caravan so Dalt’s Weir could scope it out while another "fake" caravan would be leaving from Amber? Something important would have to be on board for Dalt to take an interest—military strategists would do the trick. Dalt would want to stop them from going anywhere. Her team would be on board to take out the Weir and Dalt.
Feeling a sudden wave of what felt like relief and the pleasing feeling of knowing it was a great idea, she hurried to tell Benedict so the rumor of a military transport from Amber could be spread through Benedict’s spy network.
"A great idea," he approved with something that actually looked like a slight smile and set to work. About half an hour later when she met her cousins in the main hall she told them of her idea that was met with instant approval. As they were leaving to go they were approached by a messenger who was happy to announce that Benedict had successfully circulated the rumor and that the "caravan" was all set to go. Ashlyn didn’t tell anyone, but she was feeling more and more at ease about being put in charge.
This doesn’t seem so bad.
The ride through Arden was relatively quiet except for the forest sounds and nature. Ashlyn was feeling quite proud of herself for how smoothly things were going. This being a leader-thing wasn’t turning out so bad and for once, she wasn’t looking like the bad guy. She just hoped she could keep her cool when the confrontation arose.
The caravan was deep into the forest by this time and there was an eerie sense of calm. The horses were acting a little skittish and Ashlyn noticed that the woodland noises had very much ceased altogether. It was more than apparent of what was going on when the horses suddenly reared at a massive log that was suddenly blocking the road.
A loud snarl sounded and about thirty Weir suddenly had them surrounded from all sides. In the terrible stillness of the forest, their battle cry was the most terrifying sounding noise that could make one’s blood chill.
It was easy to discern their features. Their terrible claws and fangs, the dark fur that covered their bodies and the way they almost looked human the way they stood on their hind legs.
The Amberites stood resolute for a moment surveying the scene. Swords were at the ready. For a moment, neither side moved. Then it was as if a floodgate had suddenly broken.
The Weir attacked with terrific fury, with claws and fangs going after anything that moved. Blake and Finch wasted no time in dismounting and taking them on out in the open where there were no obstacles between them. Pandora set to taking them on with a real will. Ashlyn responded to the poor merchant’s cries of "My horses!" and managed to kill a couple of Weir who were helping themselves to a free meal of the horses who were crying out pitifully. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done to save the horses and the merchant took off running blindly away from the scene in fear, never to be heard from again, leaving his fate unknown.
Meanwhile, Vincent was in a fight of his own, discovering that Weir really weren’t all that smart. As two of them rushed him from either side, Vincent simply stepped back at the last possible second and the two attacking Weir collided and wound up killing each other by running the other through with his claws. As a third came to step in, Vincent wrestled with it in hand to hand, managing to make psychic contact with it. It was easy to take over its mind and convince it and even a few of its brethren to turn on their own kind. With this turn of events, the Weir eventually were fighting each other and soon retreated back into the forest with fighting amongst them. The one that Vincent had made contact with had stayed behind, seeming eager to please Vincent. He sat on his haunches and looked up at Vincent with adoring eyes like a pleasing puppy and seemed to crave any kind of praise or validation from Vincent.
Taking assessment after the skirmish, many Weir lay dead as did a few horses. The caravan wagons were completely ripped to shreds and rendered inoperable.
"What a mess," Ashlyn muttered. "So much for that idea."
"So what now, Fearless Leader?" Blake came over to join them. Ashlyn surveyed the scene again but didn’t answer Blake.
"Vince, dare we ask?" Finch asked as he cautiously approached the lone Weir sitting by Vincent’s side. The Weir gave him a suspicious look and growled menacingly at him. "This your new pet?"
"No. I was able to get a hold of his mind. This is going to show us where Dalt’s hiding out," Vincent said as he finished fitting the Weir with a makeshift collar and leash.
"That’s good. Tariel will help," Pandora indicated the hawk that was circling overhead. "He’ll keep an eye out for any ambushes."
"Good," Ashlyn finally spoke up. "Let’s get going while we still have light."
Vincent let the captive Weir lead and he led them through the forest to Dalt’s stronghold. He lead them into the thickest part of the forest where the trees were so thick that one didn’t have any choice but to go through it on foot since there was no room to bring a mount through the thickly grown trees. It was slow, hard going and at times it was flat-out treacherous.
The sun was just about to set when they finally came across what looked to be some kind of stronghold in a clearing deep into the forest. They stayed hidden within the tree line and looked on from a distance. By the looks of the outlying country, the fort was situated in a little valley surrounded completely by small camps of Weir.
"Well, this thing has served its purpose," Vincent muttered as he quietly dispensed with the little guide now that he was of no further use.
"So how do we get in?" Pandora asked quietly and looked to Ashlyn.
"We wait until dark," Ashlyn replied brightly. "I at least know that much. As to how we’re going to go about doing that, I haven’t got that figured out just yet."
"Maybe I should have kept that little guy around for a while longer. Maybe he knew of a secret way in," Vincent frowned, thinking he had acted a bit rashly.
"It would be nice to do a little reconnaissance without being noticed," Ashlyn muttered.
"I could do it," Finch spoke up. "I know how to shape shift myself. Just gimme a minute and I’ll change into my bird form. I’ll fly in there unnoticed and figure out the lay of the land. I can fly back and give you all the details."
"Better yet, fly in there, get the details, find a hiding place, change back into your human self and Trump the rest of us in after it gets dark," Ashlyn perked up a little.
"Sounds like a good plan," Vincent commented. Blake nodded his consent. Finch went off into the trees to change his form.
An attack from within. They’ll never know what hit ‘em!
As darkness fell over the valley, Pandora received the Trump Call from Finch. They all joined hands and found themselves pulled through to him in the next instant. He had found an excellent hiding place close to the front gate that accommodated them all quite easily.
It was an easy thing to take out the gate guards who were closest to them with stealth and deadly accuracy. Gullible, the whole bunch of them, Ashlyn figured. But her confident feeling was gone in an instant when a voice sounded "Halt! Who goes there? Why aren’t you guys at your post?" That’s when all the proverbial hell broke loose. The alarm was sounded and warriors came running, sounding their rallying war cry.
They all had to split up to take on the fighters and Ashlyn silently cursed at herself for her overconfidence. She was actually foolish enough to think that Dalt’s henchmen would be just as easy to kill as a bunch of Weir but she was sorely mistaken.
She could feel the knot in her stomach get bigger as she realized that trouble had chosen to find her and in a real bad way. Before she was even able to engage any of Dalt’s stooges in a fight, she felt the terrible burning sting as an arrow embedded itself into her leg. Archers on the ramparts above them were taking aim at the intruders. It was almost like shooting at fish in a barrel.
Although she knew this kind of pain, it was still distracting enough. As she lifted her sword to fend off the oncoming fighters on the ground level, another arrow had found its mark and was sticking out either side of her arm, causing her to drop the sword. She was floored yet again as another arrow found its way deep into her gut. Three was too much to bear and she was in agony. She had to get out of there before it was too late. Figuring that she still had some of her senses about her, she tried to dodge the incoming blade of one of Dalt’s stooges. She figured if she could just get her sword back she could defend herself and find a way to get out of there without any further damage, but she was nearly dead wrong about that as well. In trying to make a grab for her sword, she managed to get her hand lopped off at the wrist. If that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back... well, she wanted nothing more than to make a full retreat.
Ashlyn dragged herself to a corner, thankful that her attacker’s attention had been turned on Blake who was nearby. She stopped the bleeding as best she could, caught Blake’s attention for the briefest, fleeting moment to indicate that she was Trumping out and pulled out her Trump of Amber’s Main Hall. With all of her might she concentrated on the card, pushing the contact with her mind, giving herself a headache for rushing it. She reached forward and she suddenly found herself sprawled on the floor of the Main Hall with Pandora beside her only a moment later, not in real good shape herself. Both women were looking like a couple of virtual pincushions; arrows were sticking out at different angles.
Okay, y’all. Can you say MEDIC! Ashlyn didn’t have to even say it as servants instantaneously came running to her and Pandora’s aide. It was a good thing. She was experiencing far too much pain to summon anyone. Ashlyn was carried to the infirmary by stretcher and she protectively cradled her now useless stump. With her injuries, it was just a matter of removing the arrows. As for her hand, she knew it was long gone and it could be grown back in about five to ten years if she were to leave it alone and let time take its course.
Look at the mess I made of this mission. So humiliating! I think that’s worse than the pain. At least that physical pain will subside in time. This humiliation won’t! It just seems to be a well-known fact that wherever I go, trouble follows me around—everywhere. Really, I don’t go looking for trouble. It finds me. What the hell was Benedict thinking? He’ll never give me my own command after this. I don’t deserve it. I might as well kiss service with the Musketeers goodbye. Mom’s gonna have a cow when she finds out about this. I can just picture it all now! She’ll come gunning after Random and strain relations with Kashfa just because she gets over-protective. I’m sure to get grounded for the next thirty years for this... Ashlyn silently berated herself as the doctor worked to heal her and Pandora, talking to anyone who’d listen about the dangers of arrows and how Ashlyn was becoming the infirmary poster child.
It was a couple of days later when the physician proclaimed that she was well enough to receive visitors and of all the people to come and visit, she was genuinely surprised and actually a little frightened that it was her aunt Fiona who wanted to see her first. Pandora had been released the day before, since her injuries were not as severe as Ashlyn’s.
"Ashlyn? How are you feeling today, my dear?"
"I’m feeling better, thanks," Ashlyn replied, hiding her stump under the covers. "What brings you to visit?"
"I simply wanted to see how you were faring. You took on some pretty nasty blows," she said with what looked like genuine concern.
"I would say that I did rather well. I almost came out of it in one piece," Ashlyn managed a slight smile and a chuckle that sent her into a coughing fit that sent waves of pain through her sore gut.
"Is it alright if I ask you a few questions? Feel up to it?" she asked as she sat down at Ashlyn’s bedside.
"Sure," Ashlyn said simply and went to gesture the invitation. She suddenly stopped short at realizing that her hand was still gone and quickly hid it from view again.
"What can you tell me about the Keep of Four Worlds?" Fiona got right to the point.
Ashlyn was almost taken aback with the question. She was expecting to answer questions about her mission. She thought she would be questions or interrogated as to why the mission had failed so miserably. Instead, Ashlyn had the feeling of suddenly being put on the spot. Fiona’s manner about the question didn’t seem to invite any debate. She felt that Fiona was trying to probe her for something other than her knowledge of the Keep.
"The Keep?" Ashlyn recovered her composure. "Not a whole lot. I know that Mom and Dad used to hang out there a lot before I was born. I know that’s where Dad lost his sanity with that Fount of Power," Ashlyn replied truthfully.
"Have you ever been there?" Fiona leaned forward, the slightest hint of expectation hiding behind her eyes.
"No. Luke has been—several times, I would think. Dad used to take him there as a boy. I never quite caught on to my mother’s art of sorcery, so she never saw a need to take me there, I guess. I knew that it always existed and that it had everything to do with what my father had turned into, but I myself never saw a good, legitimate reason to set foot in the place. As a matter of fact, I really avoid the place like the plague. I’ve always figured that the Keep was just something of Mom and Dad’s past and that it should forever remain there," Ashlyn tried to end her sentence with a note a finality but instead ended it with a terrible fit of coughing. The physician had taken a step forward as if to offer his aid, but didn’t want to get in Fiona’s way.
"I believe you," Fiona said softly and held her hand out. "May I see your injured arm?" Ashlyn wasn’t sure what to think, but extended her stump for Fiona’s inspection.
"Would you like your hand back? I can do that for you," she said. Ashlyn’s eyes went wide. "I can put one on there as good as new."
Ashlyn’s eyes went wide and she only nodded dumbly. She didn’t know what to say. A whole bunch of thoughts were racing through her mind. What if I should worry? What if there’s a boon attached? What if she adds some sort of high compelling? I won’t have any control over that. What if it winds up getting me in the end? Like, what if it suddenly got a mind of its own and decided to kill me?
But there appeared to be no strings attached. She watched as Fiona muttered her spell and the hand grew back in about an instant.
"I don’t know how to thank—" she began.
"Consider it a gift for you help," was all Fiona said as she rose to go. She then let the physician step in and left Ashlyn to finish recuperating.
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