The Ausre Chronicles
an excerpt

“Good evenin’, hostler,” said a sudden voice from the dark. Maurice was no good with Lower City accents, but he thought it was feminine.
“Hello?” he asked. “I am afraid I can not see you very well.” This was true; the avenue was not very well lit.
“Tha’, my good sir, is quite all right,” she said in a voice that was dark like tinted glass. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
There was a sound of fingers snapping, and suddenly patches of darkness detached and moved into the light. Gregory rushed one of them and went down.
“Gregory!” he called.
“Now, now hostler, there is no call for that kind uv noise at this time of night. The children are sleeping.”
Maurice froze in shock.
“I am glad to see you agree. Now, then, hostler, I think you are goin ta come wiv us.”
“Where?” Maurice croaked.
“Brave one, are yeh? Alex, show ‘im yer steel.”
There was a sound of a short blade leaving its sheath, and something small pressed against his back.
“Shut up and walk, hostler,” the dark voice said with the same neutral pleasantness.
Pressure from the knife. He walked. Someone picked up Gregory and carried him. His captors—he could hear them all around him—led him further from the light into the central park behind the church. The trees obscured even the starlight, and the local church was too small to have lights burning all night. It was completely dark. How the leader could see where to go was beyond him. Eventually she stopped them.
“This ‘ll be far enough. Grab ‘im, Brent.”
Strong arms seized him from behind around the upper arms as the knife man moved to his left side, the weapon at his throat.
“Now, then, hostler, do yeh know why yer here?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Oh, come now, hostler.” Suddenly her face was right in front of his, and he could feel her breath even if he could not quite make out her likeness. “I from the carters. Ring any bells?”
“I—“ he started, and broke off as his throat tightened up.
“Ah, there now. Boys, I think our man remembers. You sold us bad horses, hostler. Every one of ‘em sick. We lost the whole herd. That don’t say much for you as an honest tradesman, now, do it?”
“I did not know—I was—“
“Oh, no, hostler. I think you did. So, as you can see, you have caused us a bit ov a situation, like. A situation what needs to be rectified. Now, I wanted to rectify yer house a bit, but young Alex here thinks we ought not to bother yer family.”
He wanted to say something, to tell them, to ask them, to stop, but all that came out was a sob.
“Not so brave now, are yeh? Now, I believe the established mode for these things, seeing as how we have made such a fine impression on yeh already, is that I am ta tell yeh that yer not to do it again, or things will have to be less pleasant.”
Hope snatched at his heart. He lifted his eyes.
“But I represent the carters, hostler, and the carters don’t give second chances.”
“Uughh.” The woman broke off as Gregory groaned himself back to consciousness.
“Well, look ‘ee that. Big bloke is wakin’ up. The way I see it, we carters are civilized folk, hostler, so we kin just wait fer yer friend to wake up a bit, like.”
Maurice was not sure if the suspense was worse than whatever they were planning.
After a few minutes, she continued. “However, we do not got all night. Help him along, like.”
He swallowed the egg sized lump in his throat. “Gregory. Wake up, Gregory.”
“Uhhn?”
“Gregory, wake up quickly,” he said more sharply, when the one called Brent twisted his arms slightly.
“Uh? Wass’ up, boss?”
“We have a bit of a situation, Gregory.”
“Heh, I d’a said yeh do at that. Gregory, what day is today?”
“Sedday first…”
“Likely closer to Thirdday by now, but that ‘ll be close enough.”
“Who are you?”
“Your situation. So, hostler, what it comes down to is—“
The rest of her sentence was drowned out by Gregory’s scream for help.