Evil hid in the town of Cerenis.
But it was not a crazed mage hellbent on seeking more arcane power. Not an imposing warlord scheming to raze and pillage and terrorize the countryside. Not a corrupted necromancer performing a foul ritual to raise an army of the dead. Not a vile demon lord being summoned to defile a pristine Earth. Not an ancient vampire hiding in the darkness from the sun, nor bloodthirsty werewolf awaiting the rise of the full moon. None of these.
Only a man.
A man and his inhuman deeds.
And his name was Deegan.
* * * * *
The convoy of four wagons rolled along the roads from Connlaoth to Serendipity at a steady pace during the days-long journey. The wagons were loaded with stocks of food to make the journey from Reajh to Cerenis, matchlock and wheellock rifles, gunpowder and ammunition, swords and shields, a few crates of the volatile Ignis Root and Crystal Vane plants to make improvised explosives with, and a crate packed with healing salves and other medical supplies.
Thirteen strong and rough-looking men rode in the wagons of the convoy. Eight of these men were recruited from Deegan's own crime family—those serving under his lieutenant, Jessos Rains—and the other five were from his criminal rival, Mr. Winters.
Sergio and Obrov rode in the lead wagon, the latter holding the reins. They were two of Rains' most loyal men. Both knew her story, knew the threat Deegan and his sons posed, and both were prepared to die if need be.
Jessos "The Butcher" Rains herself rode in the second wagon, surrounded mostly by the other men who volunteered for the mission. She spent most of the trip in silence. Her hatchets holstered on her belt, she sat cross-legged in the wagon, her hands on her knees, her posture relaxed, her eyes closed. She meditated frequently on the upcoming moment. The moment of Deegan's death, and her own as soon as she killed him, due to the runic magic on her chest. And nothing but joy filled her heart and her mind.
Sharon Gordon, Jorge Vrouge, and Charles Bowen rode in the third wagon. They talked among themselves and to their mutual friend Gabriel for the journey's duration. And it was Sharon and Gabe's doing that the four of them, along with five of Mr. Winters' other enforcers, were present. The former plan to find and kill Deegan, involving a man named McMurray and a raid on Deegan's treasury, was put on hold in favor of this one. They need only bring back proof of Deegan's death to prevent the old plan from moving forward. To prevent a criminal street war.
And to stop that war from happening in Reajh, another needed to be fought at Deegan's doorstep in Cerenis.
So the convoy pushed onward to the outskirts of Cerenis.
* * * * *
The convoy stopped a few hours out from the edge of Cerenis. The sun hung low in the yellowing sky, casting long shadows from the trees of the forest around the convoy. The sound of flowing water was near the road at this spot.
A number of Rains' men got to work with axes, chopping and collecting wood for a fire. Sergio and Obrov circled the wagons on the road, and went about feeding the horses. Other men took out some of the rifles and stood watch around the circled wagons. Winters' men didn't contribute much to the work of building the camp; they just stood around the fourth wagon, eating salted meat and bullshiting and laughing among themselves.
Sharon and Charles stayed inside the camp formed by the circled wagons. Sharon absentmindedly munched on a potato while Charles cleaned one of his dual pistols for the third time during the journey.
Sharon watched as two of Rains' men dropped armfuls of cut wood into the center of camp. Another man came with a sack of rocks and started to make a ring of them around the wood, building a fire pit.
Now that they were so close to Cerenis, Sharon couldn't hold back her worry. She glanced at Charles. Said, "What do you think we're going to find in there? Rains was...pretty certain about what she said. Back in Reajh. About Deegan and whatever it is he's been doing. I'm...I don't know."
Charles didn't look up. Kept wiping his pistols with the cloth rag. "Nervous?"
"Yes. No." She hesitated. "Well, yes and no. Don't get me wrong, I want to see this through. I mean, we got
so lucky that Rains turned out to be Deegan's lieutenant."
"I wasn't a big fan of Earnhardt's plan either. Not one bit of it."
"I'll second that. Again." Then she mumbled, "That fucking asshole..."
Charles chuckled. Kept cleaning the pistol.
"Well, what do you think?" She was hardly touching her potato now. "How bad could it be? I've seen...
horrific magic. What could possibly be worse than that?"
Charles put the pistol back into its holster on his belt. Looked at Sharon. "You know what I think? Doesn't much matter what's in there. We're here to kill Deegan. That's it. All this talk about evil this and evil that...it's nothing. Just bullshit. Don't let it bother you. Everybody's done things. And if somebody hasn't yet, they will, if they just live long enough. So maybe Deegan's done a bit more. Maybe he hasn't. Like I said, doesn't matter." He leaned toward Sharon. "Just stay focused. I don't care what Rains said to you back in that mill. This isn't about that. We kill Deegan, we keep Merissa, and Niko,
and Siro safe. You got that?
That's what matters. That's the right thing to do. That's why you and I are really here."
Sharon didn't say anything in response. Just nodded. And slowly started to eat her potato again.
Jorge and three of Rains' men had gone down to the nearby river. They each shed their clothes off and waded into the gentle flow of the water. Started bathing, giving each other plenty of space, washing off the sweat and stink from hard work and long travels. The three men boasted to one another about how many kills they were going to get tomorrow once the assault began. Jorge kept to himself. Thought about some of his favorite working girls back in Reajh to pass the time as he scrubbed his body. Might have to pay Lazuli a visit when he got back. Celebrate in style.
Rains appeared through the trees and the brush, walking down the slight hill to the river. The three men each glanced at her, then immediately acted like she wasn't there at all and went on boasting. Jorge stared. Somewhat perplexed.
Rains undid her chestwrap. Took off her boots and socks and laid each neatly by the water's edge. Then slid out of her pants and belt and underwear. Set all of her clothes by her boots. She walked into the waist-high water then. Stood near, but not too close, to Jorge. Started bathing as if she were the only one in the river. Washing everything but her dreadlocks.
Jorge just grinned. It took a lot to smack him speechless, but that had done it.
He soaked in the moment even after his thoughts cleared up. Watched her bathe for a full minute. Then, finally, he said, "Well now, if it ain't Jessos Rains herself. In the flesh. Don't think we've been properly introduced, love. Name's Jorge."
Her back mostly to him, she merely glanced over her shoulder. A curt little smile. Then went back to bathing.
Jorge chuckled. "I'll have you know that I was this close—looky here,
this close—to volunteering to take Sharon's spot in our little McMurray heist. I mean, fuckin' hell, she was gonna have all the fun and I was supposed to be, what, some big dumb lug? That job don't make for no rousin' stories. And, let me tell ya, love, that wouldn'ta been the first time I slapped on some ladies' threads for the team."
Rains stopped bathing. Turned around in the water to face him. Cocked her head some. Entertained the strange man. "And what stopped you?"
A big grin spread across his face. "Well, I thought to myself: 'Alright, champ, that's all well and good, but what's gonna happen when she's got you in bed, pulls down your frilly little panties, and a big ol' swingin' dick comes flying out, eh?'" Jorge threw his head back and laughed. "And I like to think of myself as a gentleman. So I decided to spare you the trouble of havin' to beat my ass for some silly shenanigans. See, I'm a really a nice guy once you get to know me."
Rains smiled back. Amused. Then she rubbed her cheeks and her chin with a hand, indicating the burns on Jorge's face. "You would have been...
horrible for the job."
"Oh, no offense taken, love. You ain't exactly my type, either. There's one hell of a fine line between a girl who can play the kind of rough I like and a girl who could literally stomp my ugly ass into the ground. And you don't look like the former, I'll tell ya that much."
The work of setting up camp continued, as did the banter among the men. Humor served one of its time-honored purposes as an antidote to the anxiety, the fear, of a battle to come.
And by tomorrow's end, not all who came would leave.