A Welsh Denouement
An excerpt from Shadow Game, by J. G. Arceneaux, still at large
Friday, May 29th, 1868
Backwater town in Wales
2300hrs, local time
The Frost Giant was vanquished, the last shots delivered, the last spell cast. The last of the dust had settled. With Alexi's parting words ringing in memory, with Rebecca's shocked silence underlying his disapprobation, I studied the ruined railway car and the corpse tied to the chair. The spy was quite a ruin, barely more than a shell to provide the doorway through which the Frost Giant was meant to arrive. I duly committed the details to memory and once I was certain I had the entire incident firmly fixed in my mind, I quit the car to change. The Colonel would need a report and I would have to send it.
Of course, since it was well after the hour the telegraph office had already closed for the night, it would require a bit of stealth to send that report off and by God, I was not going to do it in a corseted dress and ladies' heels. I shut myself up in the compartment I shared with Evie and quickly changed into my working clothes: jodhpurs and boots, harness and knives, gun and sword, long coat and hat. I donned a dark lawn blouse instead of my wool fisherman's sweater in deference to the weather and pinned my hair securely up before concealing it under my hat. Black greasepaint camouflaged my face and gloves hid my hands. I had some burgling to do and the less visible I was in the dark the better.
The moon was only a day past first quarter, making the night deeper, and I was thankful for the additional cover. It occurred to me that the spy might have had more compatriots shadow our team to the train and thereafter lie in wait for anyone leaving. Therefore I left the train by way of an access hatch in the floor, crawling under the train car and eeling down the rail embankment instead of stepping off at either end where the opposition would be watching. It was with that in mind that I eschewed walking the cindered tracks and instead hugged the base of the embankment The grass grew tall on the verge and by bending at the waist, I kept the bank and the greenery between me and any prying eyes.
The walk to the train station was uneventful and despite the darkness of the Welsh countryside, I made good time. I was grateful for the opportunity to practice my outdoors skills divorced from the urban environment of London. Unlike the great metropolis that never truly slept, with its ever-present noise and odors masking her passage, the night surrounding me was relatively silent and clean. Of course, the countryside produced its own din and the night was never truly quiet. The racket of insects and night birds, the occasional call from livestock or bark of a dog, kept the countryside from the silence of a tomb. Even so, under the right conditions, relatively small sounds could carry a mile or more.
I approached the train station cautiously, hanging back in the tree line opposite the tracks to observe the building and its environs for movement. The telegraph office might be closed for business, but if memory served, a late train passed through here on its way to Cardiff and points east. A switch operator would have to remain on duty until it had passed before he could secure the station and go home. I pulled my father's watch and cupped it with my other hand to hide any shine off it from the moon.
2330 hours. Should be here any minute now.
Even then I could feel the faint vibration emanating from the ground as the train drew near, the sound of its approach muffled by the hills and dells of the landscape. A hiss was all the warning I got before it roared into view around a shoulder of the land and it screamed past the station, its whistle at full-blast. I used the human inclination to duck away from the noise to cover my crossing over to the platform, there to hide in the shadow of a pile of crates. I waited until the last clack on the rails echoed to silence and the crickets resumed their chorus before rising and setting my lockpicks to the telegraph office door.
Once inside I allowed myself to relax—it was deserted as I'd hoped. Feeling my way carefully in the dark around the counter to the rear where the equipment stood, I unlocked the key and gave it an experimental tap. A clack rewarded my effort and I sent a prayer Heavenward for the officer's reluctance to muck about with the battery. Made of electrodes suspended in a chemical solution, I would have been chary of handling such a thing myself. Pulling a chair up to the counter, I closed my eyes, composed my message, and encrypted it. With a deep breath, I put my finger to the key and tapped out what I read off my eyelids and waited for the receipt of signal to come back.
Received.
When no reply followed, I locked the key down and quit the office as covertly as I came. I kept my eyes and ears open on the walk back to Alexi's train, enjoying the solitude and yet remaining on razor's edge for the adversary. It reminded me of the six weeks I'd tramped through Bavaria with my father so many years ago, travelling by night to avoid detection during the day, sleeping in barns when we could, in the woods when we couldn't. He'd taught me what he knew every step of the way—how to live off the land, how to turn it to my advantage for weaponry or concealment, the marks of animals and the information gained by them, the habits of the human animal and likely actions when cornered or threatened. With my memories to keep me company, I felt closer to my father than I'd had in months and for a change, it did not overwhelm me with sadness. Instead I imagined him gauging my performance and I wondered how I'd fared.
I was 100 yards from the train when I spied three figures approaching it. Going by their silhouettes I recognized Billy, Pop, and Svetlana. I hung back and timed their boarding as a distraction so I could return via the hatch unobserved, knowing that they would draw enemy fire—if enemy watchers there were. Billy and his friends obliged my objective by making a noisy business of boarding the train and I returned to my compartment without incident. Flushed from my solo excursion, I wasn't entirely sure if I was disappointed to have avoided battle. The entire action with the spy and the Frost Giant, though harrowing toward the end, left me unsatisfied. I had hoped to deliver the spy to the Colonel for further questioning and now I would have nothing but a corpse. I recalled the message I'd sent:
DETAINED SUBJECT IN WALES FOR QUESTIONING. STOP. ASCERTAINED MEMBER OF R.'S FACTION. STOP. SUBJECT SELF-EXPIRED TO PROVIDE GATE FOR F.GNT. STOP. FG VANQUISHED. STOP. K.'S CONVEYANCE SUSTAINED SOME DAMAGE. STOP. FULL REPORT UPON F2F DEBRIEF. STOP. ORDERS? STOP. -JGA.
In the absence of any orders, I was free to decide what the team and I should do next. Should I press on after the Avalon site reputed to be in Wales? Was it possible that more of the Atlantian manuscript would be found there?
That would certainly make Rebecca happy. She's been very much a fish out of water in the clandestine trade and unless I've missed my guess, her name in magical circles has taken a beating this night. Alexi could not have looked upon a child murderer with any more revulsion than he had upon her. Someone should talk to her about her black runes, and soon. Otherwise I will have to do something regrettable to ensure her safety and Alexi's should we continue to travel together.
Yes, soon. But what?
I hated to admit it but I wished I could communicate with Dionysius Beignet. Pompous and arrogant and insufferably priggish though the Hobbit was, he was undeniably a superior mage and would be invaluable in tutoring Rebecca in the safe handling of her magic. Whatever he did not know himself, he certainly could contact those who did.
When next I return to London, I shall have to send my card and arrange a meeting. If they haven't yet come to a side agreement on their own, it is high time they did.
So ran my thoughts as I changed out of my gear, cleaned up, and donned something more suitable for sleep—a long man's robe with a simple woman's chemise beneath. The hem and sleeves of the robe were long, even on a tall woman as myself, and assured of modesty and yet freedom of movement, I settled with my case notes to write up a more formal report of the night's events. I had the compartment alone. Evie was engaged with Alexi. Rather noisily so. I followed their activity with half an ear, alert for mishap or mayhem, but otherwise leaving the new lovers their privacy. I was deep in my report when the noise stopped and it was a measure of my preoccupation that I only realized it some unknown time later. Searching back through my memory, I replayed what I'd subconsciously observed and decided nothing was amiss. I had good reason to know how vigorous Alexi was and how tired he could make his bed partner. I smiled down at my journal.
Good for you. Ride him, Evie.
I sharpened my pencil and put it to paper again and brought the last of my report to a close.
Since any campaign is a collaborative effort, Journal and RP entries by our other players can be read here.
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