The Road to Millhaven: Three Days Later

Victor - POV

My feet ached and the pack on my shoulders felt heavier with every mile. Three days of hard travel along dangerous roads had changed us all.

The ten people who'd left Hearthvale looked harder now, marked by constant vigilance and grim determination. We'd passed burned farmsteads and abandoned settlements, evidence that Malachar's raiders had taken their frustration out on anyone crossing their path after losing me.

Papa walked beside me, his soldier's pace never faltering. Every few minutes his eyes would scan the horizon, watching for trouble.

"How much further?" I asked quietly.

"Another hour to Millhaven's outskirts," Papa replied. "Then we find the people I know and hope they're still alive and willing to help."

Henrik fell into step beside us. "Roads are getting worse. That farmstead this morning had bodies maybe two days old."

"Malachar's people," Papa said grimly. "Taking out their anger on anyone they can find. Probably still furious about losing their primary target."

The reminder that this destruction happened because of me made my stomach clench. Behind us, Thomas stumbled slightly, exhaustion making him careless. Master Willem caught his arm without a word.

"What if your contacts won't come?" I asked.

"Then we find others. Millhaven has people who might help, if the price is right."

"When we get to Blackhaven, you stay back," Papa continued. "You help with supplies, watch the horses, provide support from a distance. But you don't get close to the fighting."

"I can help more than that."

"You can help by staying alive," Papa interrupted firmly. "These aren't village raiders, sprout. They're killers who've been doing this for years."

Papa's tone told me this wasn't negotiable. But I also thought about Mama and baby Naelira, somewhere ahead in that fortress, probably scared and wondering if anyone was coming for them.

Millhaven: The Broken Crown Tavern

Victor - POV

The tavern smelled like stale ale, unwashed bodies, and the metallic tang of old blood.

Papa had led us through Millhaven's twisting streets to this squat stone building wedged between a blacksmith's shop and a pawn broker's store. The sign above the door showed a crown split in half by a sword.

"Wait here," Papa told Henrik and the others. "Keep your weapons ready but hidden."

Inside, the tavern was dimly lit and filled with people who made their living between legal and illegal. Scarred men with hard eyes nursed drinks in shadowy corners. A woman with tattoos dealt cards to sailors who looked like they hadn't seen port in months.

Papa approached the bar where a massive man with graying hair was cleaning glasses.

"Looking for Gareth Blackthorne," Papa said quietly.

The bartender's eyes flicked over Papa. "Who's asking?"

"Gregor Ironforge. We served together in the Merchant Wars."

Recognition flickered across the big man's face. "Gregor? Thought you were dead. Heard you settled down, became a family man."

"I did." Papa's voice carried an edge that made nearby conversations pause. "Now I need help getting my family back."

Gareth set down his glass and really looked at Papa. "Back room. Bring the boy if you want, but this conversation stays private."

The Back Room: Recruiting

Victor - POV

The room behind the tavern was where the real business happened.

Four people sat around a scarred wooden table, all carrying weapons that suggested they knew how to use them. Maps covered one wall, marked with routes and locations that probably weren't found on any official charts.

"Gregor Ironforge," Gareth announced as we entered. "Needs work done. The kind that pays well and doesn't ask questions afterward."

A woman looked up from sharpening a curved dagger that gleamed like silver in the lamplight. She looked to be in her prime, with short dark hair and scars along her knuckles that spoke of fights won through skill rather than luck. Human, with the lean build of someone who'd survived by being faster and smarter than her enemies.

Beside her sat a Skathari with the features of a great cat, golden fur covering his arms and face, pointed ears that twitched at every sound, and eyes that reflected the lamplight like polished amber. His movements had fluid grace, but there was nothing domesticated about the twin curved swords across his back.

The third mercenary was clearly Delvarin, built like a boulder with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a barrel chest that strained against his leather armor. His dark beard was braided with small metal charms that clinked softly when he moved, and the massive war hammer leaning against his chair looked like it could crush stone.

The fourth member was another Skathari, this one with scaled skin that shifted from dark green to brown depending on the angle of light. Her movements were deliberate and precise, and when she turned to look at us, her vertical pupils reminded me of serpents.

"What kind of work?" the human woman asked, her voice carrying the slight accent of someone from the southern provinces.

"Slave recovery," Papa said bluntly. "Blackhaven fortress. Professional raiders took seventeen people from my village three days ago, including my wife and infant daughter."

The cat Skathari's ears flattened against his skull. "Blackhaven's not a place you walk into and walk out of," he said, his voice carrying a faint purr. "Malachar's got maybe two hundred fighters, plus whatever other scum happens to be visiting."

"I know the odds," Papa replied. "I also know what I'm willing to pay."

He set a leather pouch on the table. The coins inside clinked softly, but from the weight of the bag, it was more money than most people in Millhaven saw in a year.

"Half now," Papa continued. "Half when everyone's safely home. Plus whatever loot you can carry out of that place."

The human woman examined one of the coins. "This is serious money. What makes you think we'll live long enough to spend it?"

"Because I know Blackhaven's layout from my army days. Because I have nine men who know how to fight and have nothing left to lose. And because I'm not planning to fight fair."

"Nine men against two hundred?" The Delvarin spoke for the first time, his voice carrying the rumble of distant thunder. "Those are suicide odds, even with us."

Gareth stepped forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "Maybe not as bad as you think, Thorek. Word's been going around about Malachar's recent raid. They lost six men, including some of their best fighters. Plus, I know at least a dozen locals who've got scores to settle with that bastard."

"You're talking about expanding the group?" Papa asked.

"I'm talking about turning this into a proper war party," Gareth replied. "Give me two days, and I can have twenty good fighters ready to ride. Men who know the area, know the target, and have their own reasons for wanting Malachar dead."

The human woman looked thoughtful. "Kara Nightwhisper," she said, extending her hand to Papa. "These are my associates. Finn," she indicated the cat Skathari, "Thorek Ironbeard," the Delvarin nodded gravely, "and Senna Scaleheart." The reptilian Skathari inclined her head slightly. "Finn scouts, Thorek breaks things, Senna knows more about poisons and silent killing than anyone alive."

"My other two team members are handling reconnaissance right now," Kara continued. "Aldric specializes in concealment magic, and Moira handles tactical communication. You'll meet them when we finalize the assault plan."

"Six professionals total?" Papa asked.

"Six professionals who've worked together for three years," Kara confirmed.

"With Gareth's contacts, we might actually have a chance," Kara continued. "But understand this, Gregor: we go in hard and we go in quiet. Anyone who can't keep up gets left behind. Anyone who compromises the mission gets cut loose." She glanced pointedly at me. "This isn't a rescue operation, it's a war. And wars aren't won by bringing children to battlefields."

Papa's expression didn't change, but his voice grew harder. "Don't worry about him. He earned his spot among the nine."

Kara's eyebrows rose slightly, genuine curiosity replacing her skepticism. "Earned his spot? What exactly can a seven year old do that would impress veteran fighters?"

"Ask Henrik when you meet him," Papa replied simply. "Or better yet, ask the raiders who came for him. The ones who are still alive, anyway."

The temperature in the room seemed to shift as the mercenaries exchanged glances. Finn's ears twitched forward with interest, while Thorek leaned back in his chair, reassessing me with new eyes.

"I see," Kara said slowly, her tone entirely different now. "Well then. I suppose we'll find out what kind of war this really is."

"We'll take your contract," she said finally.

"When do we leave?" Papa asked.

"Tomorrow night. That gives us time to gather additional supplies and plan the approach routes." Kara stood up, her movement fluid and predatory.

Papa nodded grimly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Two Days Later: The Approach to Blackhaven

Victor - POV

The fortress rose from the cliffs like a cancerous growth, all black stone and twisted iron that seemed to drink the moonlight rather than reflect it.

We'd been watching from the treeline for hours, thirty four fighters now, thanks to Gareth's recruiting efforts. The original ten from Hearthvale, the six professional mercenaries, and eighteen hard men from Millhaven who'd joined our cause for reasons ranging from profit to revenge.

Papa crouched beside me with a spyglass, occasionally muttering observations to Kara and the other group leaders. The expanded force waited in tense silence, checking weapons and trying not to think too hard about what we were about to attempt.

"Four guards on the main gate," Papa whispered. "Two more walking the eastern wall. Kitchen delivery entrance looks unguarded, but that could be a trap."

"Shift change happens at midnight," Finn added quietly, his cat like ears swiveling to catch sounds the rest of us couldn't hear. "We'll have maybe ten minutes of confusion when the new guards are settling in."

I peered through the darkness at the fortress walls, trying to spot the people we'd come to save. Somewhere behind those walls, Mama was probably trying to comfort baby Naelira, both of them scared and wondering if anyone was coming for them.

The thought made my chest tight with a mixture of fear and anger that I was learning to recognize as the feeling that came before my magic wanted to explode outward.

"Easy, sprout," Papa murmured, sensing my distress. "Remember what Seraphine taught you about control."

"Movement on the docks," Thorek observed, pointing toward the harbor below the cliffs. "Looks like a ship came in while we were watching. Buyers, maybe."

Through the spyglass, Papa cursed under his breath. "Auction night. There are carriages down there, rich clothes, armed escorts. They're not just holding our people, they're selling them."

The news hit our group like a physical blow. Somewhere in that fortress, people from our village, our friends and family, were being displayed like livestock to buyers who saw them as nothing more than property.

"That changes everything," Kara said grimly. "If there's an active auction, security will be tighter. More guards, more witnesses, more people who might raise an alarm."

"It also means more targets," Papa replied, his voice carrying a coldness I'd never heard before. "Anyone buying human beings is just as guilty as the ones selling them."

"Agreed," Gareth said from behind us. "No mercy for slavers or their customers."

Around me, the faces of our expanded group showed grim determination. Farmers and craftsmen from Hearthvale, professional killers from Millhaven, mercenaries who'd made war their trade. All united by the need to rescue innocents from a fate worse than death.

"Final positions," Papa announced quietly. "Remember the plan. Multiple entry points, coordinated strikes, overwhelming force applied quickly. We go in hard, we get our people, and we burn that place to the ground."

"What about me?" I asked.

"You stay here with the horses and supplies," Papa said firmly. "Along with Aldric and Moira."

Two figures stepped forward from Kara's group. Aldric was clearly Elkin, with pointed ears and silver hair that gave him a severe appearance. His eyes seemed to look through things rather than at them.

Moira was human, appearing to be in her prime, with brown hair pulled back in a practical braid and simple traveling clothes that made her blend into the background.

"Aldric specializes in concealment magic," Kara explained. "He'll keep your position hidden from scouts or patrols. Moira handles tactical communication. She can link all our minds so we coordinate without signals."

Moira nodded at me. "I'll need to touch your forehead to establish the connection. You'll hear everyone's thoughts during the mission, and they'll hear yours. Keep your mental voice quiet unless there's an emergency."

She placed cool fingers against my temples, and suddenly I could hear whispers at the edge of consciousness. Papa's grim determination, Henrik's nervous energy, Kara's cold professional focus.

"Good," Moira said, stepping back. "Victor, if we need to retreat fast, you'll be our lifeline. You'll be able to warn us if anyone tries to escape our net or if reinforcements approach from unexpected directions."

Understanding settled over me. Not just waiting helplessly, but serving as an early warning system and communication hub for the entire operation.

Papa stood and looked at our expanded force one last time. "Everyone knows their assignments. Multiple teams, coordinated strikes, no mercy for anyone who profits from human suffering. We bring our people home tonight."

Then they were gone, melting into the shadows with practiced silence, leaving me with Aldric, Moira, and the weight of knowing that everything I loved most in the world was about to be put at risk.

But I wasn't alone anymore. Through the mental link, I could feel their determination, their focus, their shared commitment to end this nightmare once and for all.

In the distance, Blackhaven squatted on its cliff like a predator waiting to be disturbed. Soon, very soon, that waiting would be over.