The Spark (44 page)

Lillian knew it would be quicker for her to reach the town hall through the front, but she feared the meeting would be drawing to a close and Seyblanc on the return. So she sped through her house and out the back entrance into her yard. In what seemed no time at all she crossed the property and entered the thicket that backed onto her property. Hiding behind a tree, she finally let herself breathe. Lillian needed maintain her composure if she was to continue with her plan.

The weapons were there. The ammunition was there. All she needed now were troops, but first she had to free them.

Skulking through the overgrowth bordering the town, Lillian made her way back around to the front of her property. The front window was now alight, and shadows of a dozen men could be seen standing over the dining room table. It appeared Lillian fled at the right moment. Not waiting, she sped through the rest of the undergrowth towards the makeshift prison that held her fellow citizens.

Lillian slowed her approach as the peaks of the broken bell tower revealed itself through the bush. Typically, there were two or three men stationed in the tower. She took her time and watched, waiting for a sign of occupation. Lillian couldn’t believe her good fortune when no signs of watchmen showed. Fighting the urge to just rush forward, Lillian made a slow approach, not wanting to be lured into a trap.

From the small crest the town hall sat, she could see the light from the market square still alight. Where once jowls and curses echoed through the village, the sound of laughter and humour drifted over the rooftops. Lillian took this to mean Seyblanc provided a feast, or some other form of celebration for his troops show that he was more aware of his precarious situation than Lillian gave him credit.

Lillian pressed her hands on the rough wood and pushed the door open, slow, to not draw any unwanted attention. Her heart froze when she heard the gruff voices of two men echo up the stairwell that led to the basement. Lillian had prayed to Del Morte for no encounters until she set her plan into motion, and now this turn of luck served to hamper her. Yet, she still had the element of surprise. Shoving the pistol into her belt, Lillian removed one of the stolen blades from the pocket of her skirt. It was light, cool to the touch.

The basement was aglow with the soft light of a lonely lantern. The all too familiar sound of flesh against flesh filled the makeshift prison as she came to the lower landing. As she suspected, there were two of them. Both of their backs were to her, either man too engrossed in vigorously pumping a woman each. One was of the poor women was dear Anna. The other was a pretty face Lillian knew from the market, but she had never learnt the poor woman’s name. Lillian crossed the floor quick, not wanting to waste the moment of surprise she had.

Without so much as a pause she wrapped her arm around the first man’s mouth to stifle his surprise as she slid her blade deep across his throat. Blood squirted and sprayed over the poor woman beneath him. Lillian was already splitting the second man’s throat as the woman shrieked in horror.

“Shush!” Lillian hollered at the woman. She looked down at Anna, who looked as though she was seeing a ghost.

“Madam?” The cardinal asked, voice weak and empty.

“Aye.” Lillian said, wiping her blade on her rugged skirt.

“Druxan knows that voice.” The thick accent of her Pozian wine merchant said from the shadows. “But it cannot be. For most wonderful madam is gone to the halls of Del Morte.”

“No, ‘tis I Druxan.” Lillian smiled as her favourite wine merchant limped out of the shadows. Lillian was pleased to see he had healed most of his injuries; despite all odds, the fat wine merchant somehow managed to recover from his wounds in the time Lillian had been gone.

“But how?” Anna pulled herself to a sitting position, covering her womanly parts. “The guards proclaimed you dead.”

“Aye.” Druxan agreed.

“They did, yes.” Lillian looked over the shocked faces of the small group of survivors. There weren’t as many as she remembered, which would make her plan even more unlikely to succeed. “I feigned death. I am sorry. The guard was drunk and unsteady, which only aided my ruse.”

“Then why are you still here child?” Anna asked. “Why have you not fled to Brixon?”

“I couldn’t.” Lillian admitted. “I couldn’t leave these vile men in our lovely town.”

“Ah. It is you then?” Druxan smiled. “The
ghost of Le Clos Noire
is none other than Druxan’s most favourite lady.”

“Yes.” Lillian smiled. “I have stalked these men for the last little while, driving fear into their hearts.”

“Most wonderful lady did most excellently.” Druxan laughed, a good hearty laugh. “The
paestichios
have been nothing but feared to walk at night.”

“Good.” Lillian felt tired, and famished. She still had not found anything to eat, but she did not have time. Blinking away her fatigue she reached down for Anna’s hands and pulled the cardinal to her feet. “But I could not do it forever.” Lillian looked over the survivors again. “I had to do something.
We
have to do something.”

“What can we do child?” Anna asked with her soft voice. “We are not warriors, nor are we strong in numbers.”

“We don’t have to be.” Lillian said. “Listen to me, people of Le Clos. There are two options at your door. You can choose to stay here in this makeshift prison, to suffer the treatment of the Order and slowly fade away to death. Or, you can do
something
.

‘The forces that hold us captive are alone. They have not received the reinforcements they thought they would have. Their faith is dwindling, ever the more quick through my actions. I know of a cache of weapons and ammunition that we can use. If we are to die in our home, then let us do it trying to retake it. We may all die in the end, but at least we will have taken many of their number with us.”

The room was silent.

Druxan nodded his head as he weighed his options, and Anna hung her head in prayer. Many of the other residents looked away or chewed their lips.

“In mother Pozo,” Druxan broke the still air. “This plan would do well. Druxan is behind most wonderful lady. If Druxan is to make an end, then he will do it with gun in hand.”

“Thankee ser.” Lillian smiled as her most favourite wine merchant puffed his chest in defiance.

“Del Morte has given me guidance.” Anna’s soft voice was next as the cardinal raised her head. “He is loath to see the blood of his children spilled. But he consents to this course of action.”

“You can count on us!” The other prisoners began to voice their consent to the plan, each one eager to bring the fight to their captors.

“Good.” Lillian said smiled. “Then here is what must be done.”

After revealing the plan to the prisoners, and releasing their bonds, Lillian ascended the steps to the main floor. This would be the first challenge for the party. Lillian did not know if the tower guard would have returned, but she did not have the time to check. The jailbreakers needed to make it back to the Rhume household as quick as they could.

Lillian opened the heavy doors to the hall a crack, letting its loud creaking ring in the night. If there were guards, she would hear their movement and voices to see what caused the noise. Thankfully, luck seemed to continue to favour her.

“They must still be at the festivities.” Lillian whispered peering into the darkness. “Let’s go, the bush on our right.”

The party sped across the parched earth, headed for the cover of the undergrowth. Just as before, Lillian skulked through the brush, trying to move as quick and silent as she could. She had informed her conspirators to do the same, and, to her surprise, they were quite silent; if Lillian had not known any different, she would have sworn she was alone in the night. They soon came upon the edge of her household. The light in the dining room still shone bright, and the shadows of men could still be seen.

“Druxan,” Lillian’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Take them ‘round the back. When you here two gunshots, count to five and run into the house through the rear entrance. Make sure to latch both the front and back doors. I will make my way through the bush and come to the back entrance. I will knock three times.”

“Most magnificent lady takes great risk.” Druxan stated. “But she has proven to be crafty. Druxan will do this.”

“Good.” Lillian peered through the bush, watching the men inside her home. “Remember, board those windows, and front door, with anything you can and as quick as you can. Arm yourselves with anything from the secret larder in the dining room. Now, go!”

Lillian waited several minutes in the dark bush, alone once more. Each time she looked at her house, she thought she might see Dalar, or her darling Jakob come running out of the house. She knew the thoughts were moot, for they were both gone, but, she still longed to see their shining faces. Who knew? Perhaps tonight she would join her beloved family in the halls of Del Morte before the night was out.

Satisfied enough time had passed to allow her small fighting force to wrap around to the back of the house, Lillian slid back towards the town hall. She didn’t go too far, for she would need to make it back to the manse before the area became surrounded with Imperial troops. She reached into her belt and withdrew the ornate pistol. Raising it high above her head, Lillian squeezed the trigger. A loud crack signaled the release of her round, followed by another as she fired again.

Not leaving anything to chance, she darted back towards her home. She did not suspect the revelers at the market square to come inspecting, for they would be deep in their drinks and bawdiness to take note of gunfire. It was the officers within the cabin she feared. Just as she suspected, the whole troupe of them sped out of the house, their own weapons drawn. Lillian counted to seven. The front door slammed shut at the correct moment; the light from the front window disappeared as her fellows blocked it off with a heavy object.

Following her own plan, Lillian sped around back, ignoring the cover of the bush to make for a quicker escape. She rounded the back corner of the house and came to rest on the back steps. With a heavy hand she knocked three times, always watching the dark bushes for sign of pursuit. The bright light of everflame lanterns lit the step as the door opened. Not wasting time, Lillian entered her home.

She was pleased to see the escaped prisoners busy at work securing the doors and windows. Lillian was even more surprised to see a handful of them waiting for her to clear away from the back entrance with supplies to board up that entrance; a fact she had over looked.

“Most wonderful lady!” Druxan proclaimed as Lillian entered into the dinning room. The robust wine merchant was coated in a thick layer of sweat, but grinning from ear to ear. “Your plan worked. Now we wait to make our end!”

“Aye.” Lillian smiled. “Thank-you, all of you.” She looked at each man and woman in turn. “Tonight, is our night. We will be hard pressed and out numbered.”

“Aye.” Druxan agreed. “But, there is something these bastardos do not have.” The Pozian reached behind his back and revealed two beautiful pistols; one of ivory and the other of ebony. “Night and Day have found the great Druxan again!”

Lillian couldn’t help but laugh. The weapons were beautiful and deadly. It had taken several waves of Imperial forces to bring Druxan down when he wielded his weapons during the invasion. After the assault, the pistols were confiscated and Lillian had never heard of their whereabouts. She did not know where Druxan found his prized items, for she had not noticed them on her initial inspection, but, she was glad to have their might on her side.

“What was that?” Anna asked when a loud crack shook the house, echoing into the night.

“That was no gunfire.” Druxan readied his pistols.

As if on queue, there was a foreign sound pit patting upon the roof. The noise grew steadier. It was so familiar and yet so long forgotten, the citizens of Le Clos Noire looked at each other with curiosity.

“Rain.” Lillian said with a smile. “It’s raining!”

“Aha! So it is!” Druxan laughed. His laughter was cut short as a loud rapping and angry voices sounded at the front door.

“And now it comes to it.” Lillian said, gripping her own pistol. “Prepare yourselves, citizens of Le Clos! Tonight, we meet our maker!”

There was another blast of thunder, which deafened the angry voices on the front step. Lillian knew it would not be long before the officers retreated to gather the rest of the occupying forces; it would not be long now before the battle for Le Clos Noire started once more.