Black Wagons (2/2)

Finally, after the wagon was back on the western road, he risked a look over the edge of the cover, and peered down at the figure below.

It was three feet tall, and clad in baggy dark clothing. One hand wielded a whip, while the other kept a firm grip on the reigns. And a wide-brimmed hat prevented him from getting a good look at the creature's features.

But in the slight moonlight, and with the Deepsight skill that was innate to all of his species, Glub could see that the hand holding the whip didn't have skin. It was jointed wood.

That's definitely a golem, he thought, and eased himself back out of sight. Creeping down the wagon bit by bit, he pondered his next course of action... then decided to kick it upstairs, more or less.

“Wind's Whisper to Threadbare. Hey boss, I'm on the wagon. A golem or haunter is driving it. I'm undetected so far. Best course of action?”

The reply came quickly, as Threadbare used his own Wind's Whisper to respond.

“Stay on the wagon and stay undetected. I think I see what's happening here.”

Glub shrugged, and settled in for a long ride.

All told it only took a couple of hours, though. Somewhere around midnight the wagon passed the mile marker he'd selected as a waystone, and turned into the forest. It slowed then, and he crouched low to avoid the sweeping branches and growth that hung over the trail, wisping along the wagon's cover like clutching green hands.

The wagon slowed even more when it came to the tumbledown barn, back in a forgotten clearing.

And then the driver spoke. Its voice was flat and emotionless, as it said “No witnesses.”

Glub froze.

The horses whinnied, as the driver hopped down, and Glub heard the crack of a whip as the figure repeated “No witnesses.”

And then he heard the shifting and grinding of plate armor, and Apollyon's muffled swearing, and Glub sighed.

Of course the kid ain't got no stealth.

He scrambled towards the edge of the cover... but he needn't have bothered. By the time he got down to the ground, the rest of the group had dogpiled the golem, taken its whip from it, and bound it to a nearby tree. It worked against the ropes, tireless as only a golem could be, and lanterns flared to life as the group studied it.

It was a blank-faced golem shell, without eyes or features, made of jointed wood. It shimmied and struggled, and as Glub watched a mouth formed out of nothing on its head and uttered “No witnesses,” before fading away.

“Eye for Detail,” Threadbare said, studying it carefully. “It's a regular golem. Not sapient. That's a programmed doll's mouth. In fact I'm fairly certain that everything it's doing is a result of its instructions.”

“Dude,” Glub said, shaking his head. “That sounds like some complicated stuff.”

“It's actually not,” Threadbare said, hopping up onto the bigger golem and searching its pockets until he came up with a gem. “Appraise. Yes, this was the focus for the Magic Mouth. Someone put a fair amount of magical reagents into this setup.”

With the gem gone from its person, the golem no longer uttered sinister threats. But it still struggled.

“So what else is here?” Glub asked, heading to the barn and peering in. It didn't look like much, and Buttons confirmed it.

“Some feed for the horses, some tracks, and a mirror that broke when we opened the door,” the tin soldier said, keeping her gun on the bound golem. “Threadbare thinks that someone comes around every day and takes care of the horses.”

“But I don't think they will today,” Threadbare said, looking at a small pile of glass. “From what I can tell from the fragments, the mirror was set up to send an alert to someone. Opening the door triggered it, and they'll know that they've been found out.”

“We could camp out and wait to see if anyone shows up,” Glub offered.

The group considered it.

Threadbare walked forward and studied the wagon, climbing up onto it and into it. “What did the driver do with this?”

“Nothing, man, that's the weird part,” Glub said. “It just drove around town then headed back.”

Threadbare nodded.

Then he walked over, leaped into the air, and swiped the golem's head from its shoulders. It immediately went limp, and the little bear went and collected the head from where it had fallen.

“That's a mmmm, bit extreme, don't you think?” Dracosnack said.

“Someone put this here to fool people,” Threadbare said. “It can't stay here. And its remains might give us answers if we approach things properly. Apollyon, you've got the biggest pack. Can you carry it with you? I need to look at it in a proper workshop.”

“Er... yes, sir,” the human said, and started loading it up.

“Do we have time to go back?” Buttons asked. “No disrespect, but we've got a mission, sir.”

“Oh no, we'll still be going forward,” Threadbare said. “Bigstump Outpost is the next stop, and if Garon was correct, there's going to be someone waiting for us there who can help me identify this shell...”