The first light of dawn through the trees and the mountains. A morning fog in Blackbane pass. A light snow still falling.
Alan shuddered violently. Looked around as if in a panic.
Ah, shit. Morning already? He overslept like a bitch. Or those clowns on watch forgot to wake his ass up. He was all fine with Gizmo getting a little extra shut eye, but Alan actually
wanted to have his turn at watch. Never knew when some scrub-ass highwaymen needed to catch some shot in the face, and Alan was the man for the job.
He crawled out of his bedroll and stood up and stretched toward the sky and yawned with a big yawn with a wide open mouth and rubbed his chin and took a good look around the camp.
Everybody was asleep. Everybody.
And the carriage was gone. The two horses that were attached to it sleeping in the grass.
"Awww...man...you gotta be shittin' me."
Alan ran over to the spot where the carriage used to be, as if his haste made any difference. He clamped his hands on his head and ran them down the sides of his face. Fuck. Fuck! Master Laython was gonna be pissed. Beatings all 'round for everybody on the job for allowing this to happen. Shit, and Alan didn't like seeing Gizmo get roughed up. Especially for something that really wasn't her fault.
"Hey! Everybody! Wake your asses up!"
Some of the men stirred. Groaned. Moved a little.
Alan grabbed one of the former carriage guard's rifles. Tried to fire it. Wasn't loaded. Had already been fired. He threw it to the ground and grabbed another rifle. Fired it into the air.
The
BOOM from the firearm was defeaning in the quiet, foggy morning. The sharp crack of the shot echoing about the mountains to either side of the pass.
That got 'em moving. Gizmo included.
Elan threw her arms about and flopped out of her bedroll, crawling quickly and frantically behind the meager rocks of the firepit for half-assed cover. "Ah! Are we under attack? What's going on?" she called out.
Then Alan yelled out to the men of the camp, now that they were awake and he had their attention. "Hey! Dumbasses! Someone stole the fuckin' carriage! Spread out and find it or we're all fucked!"
As the men did what was bidden with all the grogginess and stupor of waking too early, two of the former carriage guards spoke to each other.
"Hey, Danny boy, what's that on your face, man?"
"Uh? Lenny? Hate to tell you this, but you got somethin' on yours too. Wait...is that a fuckin' dart?"
* * * * *
Alan didn't think they'd actually find the damn thing. But find it they did.
It didn't take too long for the group of men who had searched back the way they had come to stumble across the carriage. Off the road, they said. Crashed against a tree, as if it had rolled back down the nearby hill. Busted wheel.
So Alan rounded up all the other men. Grabbed a spare wheel from one of the wagons, and Gizmo grabbed a toolbag, a big smile on her face as she did. And they started back down the road they had come yesterday. Most of the men followed them, rifles in hand. Six were left to pack up the camp and bring the four wagons and two loose horses to the crashed carriage when they were done.
Alan trudged along, carrying the spare wheel. Held it in behind him with both hands, balancing it on his back, leaning forward some. Fuckin' thing sure was heavy enough.
Elan hummed another tune as they walked down the road. A delightful skip in her step. She actually got to fix something today.
She glanced to Alan and asked, "What do you think happened?"
Alan tried to shrug. "I dunno. But I had some dumb dream 'bout what happened."
"Well, let's hear it. Better than nothing."
"Alright, check this out. A midget and his big-ass spider stole the carriage. The midget was all like 'Heigh-ho, Concord!' or some shit. And that's really all I remember."
Gizmo's face lit up. "Are you kidding me?"
"Nah, nah, I ain't kiddin' you, I just have fucked up dreams sometimes."
"No, no, no, I didn't mean that literally. I just..." She mumbled something to herself. Practiced. Then when she was sure, she said it again—sung it—so Alan could hear, "
Gary Blight, Gary Blight, Riding through the night...!"
A couple of the men behind her laughed.
Alan narrowed his eyes. "Who the fuck is Gary Blight?"
Gizmo looked a bit disappointed. "You haven't heard that song?"
"Nope."
"It comes up almost everytime we're at a tavern and there's some bards or merry men there. You know, like
Max Vicious or
The Young Maiden Lost at Sea."
"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."
"He rides a spider. Like in your dream."
"Who the fuck rides a spider?"
"Goblins do, apparently."
"Yo, this Gary Blight chump is supposed to be a goblin?"
"Yeah."
"That's bullshit. I ain't never seen no goblin before. Therefore, they don't exist. Trust me, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout."
Gizmo shrugged. "I'm just saying. I mean, we all woke up with darts in us. And
somebody had to do this."
One of the men behind her: "That fuckin' asshole nailed me in the face with one."
Alan clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Nah. I don't buy it. One little nobody didn't do this shit. Had to be a group of pro thieves or somethin' come get the jump on us like that. One of them guild-type deals. Probably got it out for the boss man on some account."
Gizmo shrugged again. "Just saying..."
The crashed carriage slowly emerged through the morning fog. It rested down in a small ditch at an angle, up against a large tree, the back right wheel broken in two and the carriage leaning a bit toward that end.
"Well, fuck me," Alan said when he saw it.
Elan approached the wagon. Her left hand stroking her chin.
"Hey, Alan," said one of the men who moved to the open door of the carriage, "look at this."
Alan set down the spare wheel and rolled it toward the carriage, keeping his hands on it. Said to the man without coming over. "Wha'do'ya got?"
"The lock on the door...someone
melted it."
"And the chest?"
"Same deal. Melted lock. Shipment's gone, man."
"Fuckin' figures."
Elan hopped down into the ditch and approached the broken wheel of the carriage. "Alright," she called out. "Most of the weight is on the broken wheel, so I'm gonna need you fellas to help me out and hold up the carriage while I change it."
Some grumbling among the men:
"Shit, we didn't bring a jack?"
"We brought spare wheels but no jack?"
"Hey, who the fuck forgot the goddamn jack?"
Alan had to lock that shit up. Raised his voice and called out, "Hey! You heard the lady! Pick a fuckin' spot and get ready to lift this big bitch."
Alan laid the wheel down next to Gizmo and, along with the twelve other men, grabbed hold of the bottom of the carriage and braced himself and prepared to lift.
Elan pulled a simple wrench out from the toolbag. Gave a quick nod to Alan.
Alan said, "Alright, boys. One...Two...Three!"
And Gizmo got to work. She gave the large metal nut holding the shattered remains of the broken wheel a few quick turns. Spun it the rest of the way off with her hand. Grabbed and pulled the broken wheel from the axle and tossed it to the side with the other broken piece of it in the ditch. The spare wheel was identical to the old one; it had its own boxing, so no need to hammer out the one in the broken wheel. She reached back into the toolbag and pulled out a jar of grease. Applied some to the axle. Put the jar back in the bag. Lifted the spare wheel and slid it cleanly onto the axle. Replaced the metal nut and wrenched it securely in place.
All done. Not all that complicated or engaging, but something. So she smiled anyway.
And the men lowered the carriage.
The morning fog about them as Alan and Elan and the men waited for the rest of the convoy to come back. The peace and serenity of the mountain pass as they waited to finish the journey to Reajh. The fresh air they breathed as they dreaded telling Elliot Laython about their failure.