Hello there! Below you can check out a rough draft of Chapter 1 in Autumn’s Winds. Putting this out here is both exhilarating and terrifying. However, I do not write simply for my own enjoyment – I want to share my story with the world. Happy reading!
“The known forms of Conduction are as follows: Heat Conduction, Color Conduction, Sound Conduction, and the forbidden fourth, Life Conduction.”
Chapter 1 – Retrieval
Autumn was dying.
Ashton stared at the brilliant foliage. He reached up and freed a leaf from one of the lower branches, turning it over in his fingers. His sigh filled the chilly air with a plume of smoky breath. He took another pull from his kretek, releasing the floral aroma of burning cloves as he contemplated the leaf. It belonged to a maple. A pliable network of lightly ridged veins traversed its waxy surface. Ashton smoothed his thumb over the face, testing its suppleness. Was it his imagination or were the edges beginning to brittle? He held the leaf close to his ear and rolled it. Nothing. No crunch. Yet still…
“Captain?”
He distractedly rubbed his left eye just below the old scar, an attempt to dispel the persisting edge of filmy black intruding on his sight. His gaze remained transfixed upon the crimson leaf, pulling his thoughts down to that familiar, endless road. Something was wrong. Autumn was slipping away. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a silent disease undetected by its dying host. Certainly, the maples in Dunreith had not been such a deep hue six months ago. Perhaps the maples in Deephedge were just a little different…
“Ash.”
The swirling road in his vision evaporated. He was back in the vast Woodland Sea, cold, miserable, and damp in the clinging mist. As the blackness receded, he found Vitanya standing not far from him.
“Captain?” she queried once more, uncertainty hanging in her voice. “The homesteaders are here. They’re ready to show us the bodies.”
Ashton nodded, taking a final puff of his kretek before grounding the smoldering stump into the wet clinging grass with his boot. He ran a hand back through his dark hair, smoothing back the limp, damp bangs from his eyes. “I am ready,” he said, and pocketed the leaf he held.
Her large, dark eyes showed concern, but Vitanya only gave a quick nod and turned about. The two strode into a clearing and Ashton looked up at the amorphous ceiling of grey above them. Just in time, he mulled. Evening would soon overtake them. He lowered his gaze and knew a moment of jealousy for Vitanya’s knee-high boots as the drenched undergrowth shared its sodden moisture with his pant cuffs. Despite his hardy footwear, his feet were soaked and numb after weeks traveling in an almost constant drizzle. He forced his dour mood to remain in check as they approached the rest of his men.
His company, known as the Blank Inquest, or Black Ink for short, were waiting. Some of them stood sullenly by the horses beneath the eaves of the forest, huddling in their long, black coats, and stomping about in a vain attempt to remain warm and dry. Their journey had been lengthy and miserable, seemingly stalked by the endless rains. The remainder of Ashton’s crew was gathered a short distance beyond and were speaking with two men adorned in drab but functional garments. The homesteaders had an edge of wildness to their free-flowing beards and roughly shorn hair. Their weathered skin and rough hands told the tale of their frontier lifestyle, living in the expansive Woodland Sea.
As Ashton approached, a member of his crew stepped forward. The stout man stood, broad shouldered and straight, hands clasped behind his back as he reported. “The forest men say the bodies aren’t far from here captain. They haven’t touched ‘em either, left ‘em just as they were. Finally a stroke of good luck for us. Assuming they’re the blasted bodies we’ve been searching for, that is.”
“Thank you Jacks,” replied Ashton.
He moved to address the woodsmen. The two hardy men removed their hats and bowed, each dropping a knee into the wet ground. “Stand,” said Ashton. “No need for that, gentlemen. I’ve no need or desire for such level of ceremony. Simply give us your cooperation and we shall be on our way, grateful for your assistance.”
The two stood but remained with hats in hand. They shared a hesitant glance before one of them spoke. “Most gracious of you, Lord Inquest, sir. Begging your pardon but being in the presence of the Black Ink would be an honor by itself. Intimidating, and enough to make me tremble, I’ll admit. But an honor, nonetheless.” He fiddled with his hat, tugging it between his hands. “So, meeting the Defender of Autumn, yourself, well, it’s a bit overwhelming, sir. Not often we get visitors this far out in The Sea, let alone ones of your stature. The whole lot of you,” he added, motioning to the entire party.
“You’ve no need to be intimidated by me, or my men,” Ashton replied. “All we ask is that you show us what you have found. That will be most useful to our ends.”
“Of course, sir, of course. Me and Heb here found them, just last week, on our way back from gathering mushrooms. Something downright unnatural about the bodies I say. Ain’t nothing normal about them fellows. We left them right where they were, seeing as we had our arms full of mushrooms to bring home. Besides, we were none too pleased by their appearance. Truly, we see many strange things in forest of The Sea, but this one tops ‘em all in my experience. So, you can imagine our relief when we heard a team of Black Ink showed up in Deephedge. Fancy the coincidence!”
“Yes, fancy that,” Ashton replied, straining to keep his patience despite the uncomfortable weather. “I am certain that my good man Jacks has already asked you some questions, so forgive me if you find my inquiries repetitive. Let me begin by asking how many bodies you found?”
“Two, sir,” the man offered quickly, his nervous enthusiasm apparent. “Looked to be naked from what we could tell. ‘Course, it was getting dark, and we didn’t get too close. As I said, we weren’t too keen on investigating further. We’ll leave that to folks such as yourself.”
Ashton nodded. “You indicated that the bodies are unnatural in appearance. What makes you say that?”
“Yes sir, unnatural indeed. Kind of difficult to explain exactly, but they were pale, almost white as a cloud. And something just looked…. wrong. Apologies sir, I can’t say that I’m very good with words.”
“Again, nothing to worry about,” Ashton reassured him. “What is your name?”
The man blushed, “Oh pardon me sir, how could I forget my manners. Name’s Baz, and this here is Heb.”
“Thank you, Baz. So, you can lead us back to their location? If I can see them for myself, that will be quite helpful.”
“Oh, of course Lord Inquest, sir!” he responded. “I don’t think I could forget if I wanted too. Things like that leave an impression on you, you know. Been having nightmares ever since. We can take you there straight away if you’d like. It’s not too far from here.”
Baz beckoned and Ashton followed, striding alongside the homesteaders. Vitanya followed close behind and signaled for three more of their crew to join in. The group spent some time in the dim light, treading through the colored undergrowth of the forest. The failing daylight filtered through a canopy of orange and red, suffusing a quite glow upon the forest floor. Eventually, they came to a gully where a small stream babbled quietly. The group followed the homesteaders down the bank, sliding on the muck and grass as they went. One of Ashton’s men cursed and went down hard, skidding all the way into the shallow water.
They continued, following the stream, and Ashton felt the familiar sensation of Conduction hanging in the air like a web of strands. With a dull sickness, he felt certain of which form of Conduction it was. To him, it was as clear as tracking footprints in fresh snow. He possessed a rare ability, known as Sweeping, by which he could sense the use of Conduction, and Ashton knew what they would find even before Baz spoke.
“Over there, sir,” he said in a hushed tone. “Right in that cranny, just sort of thrown in there. Gives me shivers to even think about laying eyes on them again.”
Wordlessly, Ashton made his way to the embankment. Surrendering his final hopes of any comfort, he knelt in the chilly mud and bowed low to peer into the nook. Brushing some hanging roots aside, he saw them. Two luminously pale bodies lay dirtied in the earth, discarded without ceremony, and with little real effort given to their concealment. The bulbous figures emanated the putrid scent of rotting flesh. Ashton set his jaw as Baz peered over his shoulder. The other homesteader, Heb, stood at a distance, looking uneasy. “Downright unnatural as I said, Lord Inquest,” Baz practically whispered. “Not like any men I’ve ever seen.”
Ashton stood, using his gloved hands to free the largest chunks of mud from his pants. “That’s because they aren’t men. They were infants.”
Baz started, looked at Heb, and then back at Ashton. “But they can’t be. They’re as tall as me, maybe even bigger!” His expression was a mixture of bewilderment and alarm. Vitanya gave Ashton a look but held her silence.
“Fine hair. No teeth. Misshapen heads. Unfused skulls. Juvenile proportions.” Ashton crouched low to look at the bodies once more. He frowned and stared for a time, amidst silence unbroken.
He unsheathed his broad belt knife and saw his reflection in the polished blade. Despite the nature of his job, in which he frequently faced death, there were times when the fragility of life would strike him. It sickened him, angered him, how quickly a human life could so easily be reduced to nothing more than a rotting corpse, regardless of any hopes, desires, sophistication, or skill a person possessed. He had seen good men and women, people of great deeds, perish at the simple stab of a blade, succumb to an invisible illness, or even simply die in their sleep. No better than the lowest of animals in the end.
Ashton blinked into focus and collected himself, beginning to cut away some of the roots for better access to the bodies. Heb and Baz watched on, and he turned to addressed them. “Where are the other bodies?”
“Other bodies, sir?”
Ashton made a curt movement with his head and his men fell into motion, scouring the surrounding area. He continued to hack away at the roots.
“You mean, there’s more of them? More dead… well…”
“Infants, as I said. Infants damned to a shortened existence. Vessels for vitatricide.”
“Vee…veetacherside?”
“Vitatricide,” Ashton resumed, “Life pulled into death. Chosen art of Death Dealers. But as for the other bodies, those will not be infants. These infants were simply a necessary byproduct of the Death Dealers’ real targets.”
Heb cursed ran over to grip Baz’s arm, pulling him away. “We shouldn’t be here Baz, this ain’t right, I knew it wasn’t right. Oh, Seda’s breath, how did we get mixed up in all this? Death Dealers! What if they’re here, now, watching us, Baz? I can’t be here. I can’t be here!” Baz did not answer. He stood, frozen like a cornered hare. Heb cast about wildly, his increasingly rapid breath sending tiny clouds into the deepening gloom.
“I assure you; they have little interest to spare for either of you. This isn’t about you. This is a challenge, a cowardly statement in their game of willful destruction.” Ashton bit off the final words with cold distaste and stood.
At this, Vitanya stepped close, confronting him calmly. She looked up into his face. “A word, if I may, Captain.” Without waiting for a response, she moved past him and walked a dozen paces. He followed.
“Ashton, the woodsmen already brought us to the bodies. We have what we came for. Why would you reveal so much to these men? Just look at how the mere mention of Death Dealers has gripped them in terror.”
She motioned towards Heb and Baz. “They’ll take this back to Deephedge and by midnight the whole town will be given over to dread. Deephedge is secluded, but they’re a particularly superstitious lot. Something like this could cause every homesteader and stake-claimer to desert their prospects and head for safer harbors, each one of them spreading tales of a threat that would pull the world into panic. The people are on a knife’s edge, as it is.”
“I know,” said Ashton. He ran his hand back through his dark hair. “But my fury burns because this is exactly what I predicted. You know we will find the bodies of the Ecclesiarchy as well. I warned the Sacrosanct that leaders stationed in such a far-flung corner of wilderness were easy prey for the Death Dealers and that we should take the necessary precautions to prevent something like this from happening. Instead, we provided a convenient steppingstone, a gift to be used in their increasingly bold defiance.”
His shoulders rose as he breathed through flared nostrils. “The Sacrosanct have defied the lesson they were given six years ago. The people need confident guidance now more than ever before. But instead of bold action we’re deployed to fill body bags while the Sacrosanct enable failure from indecision. Proper planning and action could have prevented this mess.”
Vitanya lowered her head, her tumble of black hair flowing over her shoulders and shrouding her face. “Talking like that will get you into trouble.”
Ashton scoffed. “And what will they do? Denounce the ‘Defender of Autumn’ they have so painstakingly crowned as the savior of the people? The man they have raised to captain the Black Inquest?” He sighed. “I am simply venting my frustrations. You know my loyalties run deep as any. And besides, I know you will always be there to keep me in check.”
She smiled despite the grim circumstances. “You might think so, but I can’t control the words that come from your mouth. And we still have to decide how to deal with those two.” She glanced back at the woodsman who appeared torn between bolting or staying in the perceived safety of the Black Ink agents.
“We’re not killing them,” Ashton stated bluntly. “We have femrentine, more than enough to incapacitate them and leave them doubting their experiences of the day. These men have done nothing to warrant a demise at the hands of an unfortunate discovery. The Sacrosanct need only be told that the witnesses were handled and that will suffice.” Vitanya nodded as a call rose into the evening, cutting short their conversation.
“Captain, we found ‘em.”
Ashton and Vitanya hastened up the embankment toward the others. The men had gathered around a dark mass sitting in a tangle of exposed oak roots. Baz and Heb stood at a cautious distance, Heb unable to look at their latest discovery. The others stepped aside to allow Ashton and Vitanya better access. Both were grim as they surveyed the bodies.
Husks. That would be a more accurate description, Ashton thought.
The bodies leaned together, their necks snapped, and heads pulled back. Empty sockets gaped at the forest canopy. Open mouths, devoid of lips, bared blackened teeth in the form of perverse smiles. But most disturbing off all was the hallmark habit of the Death Dealers. Slits were carved through the victims’ cheeks, and through the slits, their hands inserted to protrude outward from their open mouths. Their gnarled fingers had been positioned to form the symbol of death: a circle within a downward facing triangle.
The necklaces adorning their broken necks confirmed their identities as the missing Prelate and Precept, the Ecclisiarchal authorities Ashton sought. Prelate Osten governed the Woodland Sea province and had gone missing with one of his Precepts, almost a month prior. Ashton’s crew had been dispatched by the Sacrosanct to investigate the ‘abandoning’ of their posts.
Ashton rubbed his left eye, refusing to acknowledge the blurry darkness that once more crept to the edge of his vision. He felt a fluttering in his mind and tried to ignore it. “Kade, take a coloring of the bodies that we can provide to the Sacrosanct. Jacks, go retrieve the horses and summon the rest of our men. Let’s move quickly now, I want to put many miles between us and this place before we make camp.”
Neither Kade nor Jacks said a word, but their postures relayed how they felt about another night on the road rather than a stay at the Deephedge inn. Jacks approached Ashton and spoke under his breath. “Death bastards finally killed some Ecclesiarchy. They’re gettin’ gutsy. Bosses ain’t gonna be happy.” He breathed into his hands for warmth as he looked sidelong at the homesteaders. “Gettin’ a bit too dark for proper bow-work but that should make knife-work all the easier. Doesn’t matter to me, it’ll be nice and clean that way. Too bad this here stream ain’t deeper, gonna make disposal a bit of a nuisance.”
“We aren’t killing them.”
Jacks looked confused. “But Captain, we can’t just let them go off and spill what they’ve seen an’ heard here. We’re the Ink, and we don’t have to concern ourselves with folks like them. I mean, it’s a pity they have to die but you know that our orders…”
“My decision is not up for discussion, Jacks. You will bring the femrentine and dose them appropriately.”
“If I could just suggest…”
Ashton’s look stopped him midsentence. “As I said, my decision is made. While I have no obligation to do so, let me alleviate your concerns. I will point out that the sudden disappearance of two homesteaders, whose last known location was with a contingent of the Black Inquest, would stir up far more damaging gossip in The Sea than if the two of them are found passed out, seemingly drunk, in an alley with headaches and foggy memories. The solution is simple and will cast doubt on their previous claims of finding the corpses in the first place. To plant a seed of uncertainty in the minds of Deephedge’s residents is all we need for this to blow over, to fade into their collective assortment of half-believed tales and mysterious sightings. Am I clear or should I explain further?”
Jacks lowered his head “Aye sir, apologies Captain. Won’t hear another word from me on the matter. I’ll fetch the boys and have them horses back shortly.”
Vitanya watched Jacks depart. “I don’t like him. His bouts of insubordination and dull intellect are becoming insufferable. He crosses the line too frequently. It’s a wonder the Black Ink ever took him in. Besides, he always smells so dreadful.”
Ashton could not help a small smile. “I’m afraid we will all smell like the sewers by the time we arrive back in Dunreith. Don’t fret too much, I will continue to put him in his place. He requires work, no doubt, but I hardly find that surprising given his upbringing and recent assignment to the crew. His dubious past is what makes his talents so valuable to us. He’s willing to get his hands dirty when necessary. And I can’t name a man better at dropping someone in a crowded street without drawing attention.”
“All the same, I’d feel better putting my fist through his teeth sometimes. He’s too damn proud of his perfect teeth.” Vitanya continued to eye Jacks as he walked away.
Ashton returned them to the task at hand. “Forget about it for now and let’s get started on the bodies so we can get out of here.”
They began the slippery process of moving the oversized infant corpses up the slope. Baz lent his reluctant aid while Heb wretched and rendered himself useless. It was difficult work, laboring up the hill with the swollen bodies. They laid them near the desiccated corpses of the Ecclesiarchy. Ashton felt the tingling of Conduction as Kade began his work to create a drawing of the deceased. He watched the young man.
Kade sat with two pieces of parchment laid out before him. The one directly in front was dyed nearly black, the one at his side was white. Slowly, he began to move his hand back and forth in smooth, fluid motions, hovering an inch above the dark paper.
A picture began to materialize beneath Kade’s hand, becoming clearer with each pass as he Conducted unwanted colors out of the dark parchment. The disposed colors collected on the white paper beside him, forming a strange, abstract version of the drawing he created. Most color Conductors chose to sketch by adding colors to a blank sheet; Kade, however, preferred to begin with a dyed material and bleed the color away until all that remained was his finished product.
Kade’s work never failed to impress Ashton, and he knew that the finished product would be so life-like, it would almost defy belief. Beside him, Vitanya stood silent as she considered the infantile victims before turning away, preferring to face the empty forest.
Ashton understood how she felt. Vitatricide, following the dualistic properties of Conduction, always produced a pair of victims – the drained, and the receiver. The fact that infants and young children made the most convenient receivers only compounded the vile nature of life-draining. Innocent, unknowing lives used as empty vessels to receive the life drained from Death Dealers’ victims.
It still seemed ironic that the infusion of extra life was fatal to the receiver.
It was not long before they heard the horses’ approach and saw the winking lanterns of their comrades. Kade was satisfied with his coloring and the men began to load the deceased into a cart. Ashton beckoned the woodsman to take a seat on a fallen tree nearby. “I want to thank the both of you for your assistance, you have been very helpful,” he said while holding a lantern before them. “I apologize that you had to witness such a gruesome display. However, I am confident you gentlemen will quickly overcome any ill effects suffered from today’s events.”
Neither man had time to react as the rags clapped over their mouths. Silent as cats, Jacks and Barrett, one of the crew’s veteran members, had doused some cloth in a healthy amount of femrentine before rounding the homesteaders. The men quickly slumped, and Jacks and Barrett carefully lowered them to the ground, waiting a short time before removing the cloths.
“That should keep them down for a few hours, sir,” said Barrett.
“Well done. Here.” Ashton flipped two heavy gold coins through the air and Jacks snatched them mid-flight. “One in each of their pockets,” Ashton directed.
Jacks’ eyes widened and he looked as though he would speak. He reconsidered and slipped a coin into each of the men’s coats. Ashton walked over to the horses and rummaged through a pack.
He produced a bottle of whiskey and uncorked it. Walking over to the unconscious men, Ashton took a mouthful of the liquid, grimacing as it went down. Never cared for whiskey he noted idly before pouring some out upon the clothing of the unconscious men. He then pressed the bottle to each man’s mouth, letting the liquor sit for a moment before turning their heads and allowing it to drain. Satisfied, he tossed the bottle to Jacks.
“Pass it around. Might as well have something to keep us warm on our night ride.”
Fastening the drugged homesteaders to some horses, the team saddled up and began their trek back to Deephedge. By now, the forest filtered out most of the remaining twilight and helped attenuate the rainfall, which had increased from mist to a steady drizzle. A stillness sat in the treetops. The thud of horse hooves and patter of rain upon the leaves above were the only sounds to be heard. Their party rode without speaking for some time, the uncomfortable weather and somber dealings making a poor setting for conversation.
Ashton pulled his hood up higher to shelter his face and reached for his tin of kreteks. He frowned at the dwindling supply inside. They were more difficult to come by these days. Many items were, for an endless Autumn was not ideal for growing most crops. It was their reality, an existence the world simply had to embrace. It was all they had now. At least you stopped the bastards from taking Autumn too. Autumn…
Reluctantly, he replaced the tin, deciding to save his remaining stock for the time being. Removing a glove, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the leaf he had plucked earlier. He ruminated over it once more, by the scant light of his swaying lantern.
Uneasiness gripped him as he turned the leaf in his hand, over and over. The larger veins ran like highways connecting countless smaller roads, tendrils of thin filament. The broad surface was beautiful, spread like a canvas painted with exquisite color. The edges were fine-tuned, sharp and elegant. Deadly. It was all darkly beautiful, ablaze with the fire of Autumn’s demise.
Without warning, the filmy black encroached upon Ashton’s vision. It was stronger than it had been earlier in the forest, overtaking his sight entirely. Through the darkness, images seeped into his mind. A great tree. Leaves turning to ash. Tears trailing down a face of smooth bark. The strength of the blackness continued to mount, rippling at first, then thrashing about like the sea in a storm.
The Shadow demanded attention. Itching. Beckoning. Battering. Speaking.
“The winds. They come!”
A sudden blast of wind disturbed the leaves overhead, upsetting a sheet of rainfall to tumble down upon the cavalcade. Ashton shuddered to awareness, gasping from both the shock of cold water and the splitting pain above his left eye.
“Ash? Ash what’s wrong?”
Concentrating was difficult, thoughts sucked down like boots fastened in the silt of a river mouth at low tide. He bent over, applying pressure to the scar near his temple. “Just the old injury I suppose,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Amazing how it can feel almost as bad as it did six years ago sometimes.”
Vitanya placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ve been trying to rouse you for over a minute Ash,” she replied quietly. “I couldn’t reach you. You simply slumped and began shaking, mumbling incoherently. I was about ready to call for Barrett’s help. Ash?”
He looked up and met her eyes. Worry showed on her determined face, the depths of her dark eyes filled with a desire to help. “I’ll be ok.” Ashton noticed some of the others casting poorly concealed glances back at him. Through sheer willpower, he forced himself to sit up straight. “I will be ok,” he repeated.
“I am going to make some dulling tea for you.”
Ashton started to object, but Vitanya had already pulled out a sturdy tin mug and filled it with water. She held the container between gloved hands and the air around them became noticeably colder as she Conducted heat into the mug. Within moments, the water was steaming. She emptied a mixture of willow bark and crushed winterberry pits into a small pouch before setting it to steep.
“Here,” she offered the mug.
“Thank you. Though, you should not have bothered. This journey has been long and miserable for us all. I’m certain you’re weary enough as it is without having to tend to my inconvenient fits.” He inhaled the warmth of the fragrant aromas.
She chuckled. “If you think heating a mug of tea takes a toll on me then I should question your judgement in trusting any of my abilities at all.”
“Oh, I trust them,” he replied. “You have proven yourself countless times, beyond your ability to Conduct heat. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Vitanya stared ahead, her dark, neatly kept brows furrowed, and her smooth face set with some quiet uncertainty. “I’m confident in my decision to join the Ink, but I’m also realistic. I doubt the academy would ever have taken me in, were it not for my Conduction skill and my family heritage. There aren’t many women in the Black Ink, as my father is fond of reminding me.”
They continued quietly for a few moments, the breeze now rustling through the leafy treetops with a steady strength.
“Your father is right about that; women are few in our ranks.” Ashton gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain assaulted his temple.
“However,” he continued, “unlike him, I believe that only makes it even more impressive that you succeeded in joining the Ink. You made it because of all your talents and determination. Alone, skill with Conduction doesn’t make one fit for the Inquest. But regardless, why would you be so quick to dismiss one of your natural abilities? Most of our members have at least one form of Conduction. Kade has skill with Color; Jacks with Sound; others, like you and me, with Heat. Our Conduction is as much a part of us as the other talents we possess.”
Silence resumed and Ashton cautiously sipped his tea, testing its temperature. He upended the mug and quickly consumed the entire cup, hoping to swiftly drown his searing headache.
As he handed the empty container back to Vitanya, he noticed the leaf clinging to the back of his wet sleeve. He lifted it and twirled the stem through pinched fingers. Then, he crushed the leaf in his fist and let it fall, a solitary occupant for the forest floor.
