by RG Long
Inside an opened cell, two bandits looked over and talked beside a tied-up person. A woman, clothed but not armored, lacking a full set of what she looked like she could be wearing, had her arms chained over her head and her mouth tied shut with a wrap made from the tatter of some old and musty cloth. The two guards sat across from one another, one on a folded out wooden bed place and the other crouched low on an overturned bucket.
The bandit guard on the bucket pushed himself up and grabbed his seat. He swung it lightly at the bound lady until she opened one of her tired eyes at him.
"If you won't use it," he said, "I will."
"And you can clean it," the other said. "We'll put your treacherous hands to use, hehehe."
The other guard laughed as well as he sauntered out, leaving his fellow alone. The remaining guard leaned back against the wall and sighed. He was nearly asleep and bored. Then he heard something. A thud, a light crack, another thud, and then the rattling of an empty, dropped bucket.
"Hey, what gives?" the bandit called out. "You can't even hold it in to the next cell down?"
He got up and stomped out of the iron cell wall. First, he saw Aladorn with his hands together. When the palms opened, a flash of light went forth as he summoned up a bright, quick-fading fire to blind the guard from the near pitch darkness of the halls. The guard clutched at his eyes and groaned.
Then he felt something, hard and fast, hit him right in his manhood. His legs pressed together immediately. He strained to open his eyes with shock when a stiff hard sensation smacked him in the back of the head and sent him down just like his cohort did. Darrion spun the dagger around in his hand and sheathed it once more.
"You be careful," Aladorn said, "or you'll put someone's eye out with that thing."
"Well, we can't ask them," Rosha said.
"No," Darrion said. He looked from the bandits to Aladorn, then over to the cell. "But, we can trade a favor with her."
"You learn quickly," Aladorn said, fretfully, as though it were a terrible fact to state.
Darrion approached the bound girl. She saw him fade in as he grew closer in the dim light. He looked up at her, proud and earnest and just-hearted, and when she saw him, her eyes went from tired and ragged to bursting wide and alert. Their meeting startled her to a point where he couldn't tell if it was overjoyed shock or fear.
Chapter 13
ONCE THE GIRL WAS FREED, she overcame her apparent shock and looked around the room for her valuables. The room was lacking in any way to help her. Only empty walls and incapacitated guards were there. She robbed one of their bodies and took up a knife that she twirled artfully in her fingers. She was just a bit older than Darrion and Rosha, but she held herself with a very high, mature presence.
"Not sure if it's polite," Aladorn said, "to arm a lady this way."
Darrion shrugged off his comment and approached her with his blade drawn and hand extended.
"I'm Darrion," he said. She looked him over, checked him for danger, and let her hand fall into his. When it wasn't holding a dagger, her fingers were limp and relaxed.
"Kell," she said.
"Why did they imprison you?" Rosha asked.
Her innocent question seemed to irk Kell. The reason seemed obvious upfront. Even Darrion had to pause a beat to reconsider. They were bandits, and she was a lady. But then, bandits wouldn't be against killing someone for their valuables. Seeing Aladorn reminded him of that fact.
"Are you not one of them?" Darrion asked.
She shook her head.
"No," she said. "I'm a thief."
"Oh, that's better," Aladorn said.
"A thief who steals from bandits?" Rosha asked. Kell didn't immediately answer, hiding her true nature.
"I tried," she admitted. "Though they caught me and held me here for days."
"That's awful," Darrion said.
He paused and looked to the guards.
"I suppose we should put them in their places before they wake up."
"Wake up?" Kell said. She saw Darrion's hesitation and struck a cocked pose with her hips, the universal sign of impatience with irritating ideas.
"You want to keep them alive?" she asked.
"It's not that," Darrion admitted, "I'd just rather not have to kill someone. Asleep or otherwise."
"You can't be bandits then," she said. "Or guardsmen."
"We," Aladorn began, "are on a royal task from the nearest local Lord to retrieve a stolen good. I'm afraid I'd rather not tell you what it is, as it may yet be stolen again so long as honor does not share the same crowd as thieves."
"You mean the scepter?" she asked.
Aladorn kept his face so flat and neutral that his absence of emotion was, itself, the telling sign that made her smirk.
"I know where it is,” she said, her smile widening.
"Is it heavily guarded?" Rosha asked.
"Indeed," Kell said. "The main hoard is in the vault within the keep. They've stolen away into this fort for a fair reason. It has many places to hide, to be sheltered, and room for stores of all kinds. The vault was one such trove, a hidden passage of a cave the fort was built on top of. There's only one way inside, and it's not just staffed with guards, but trapped as well. One false move will alert the whole fortress to you."
"So even a sure-footed thief can't get in," Darrion said.
Kell didn't want to acknowledge him, as it felt like a slight against her skill, but she begrudgingly ended up nodding.
"That's fair. Then we'll have to find another way to it."
"You sure you want to do that?" she asked, pedantically. "There are more bandits in here than there probably are guards in the nearest city."
"No doubt," Darrion said. "Whatever retinue they sent would have been demolished even if they beat us here. The whole royal guard is only something like twenty strong at the most."
"Add to that the militia, though," Rosha said. "There more sizeable than that, enough to defend the castle, at least."
"At least," Darrion huffed.
He turned to Kell and saw her looking away with a thousand-yard stare. She seemed upset by something, lost in a dreary daze. Aladorn saw her and read hopelessness on top of her face.
"Well," Darrion said, "we're deputized guards, and self-training as knights. If we work together, we'll let you walk off with whatever else these bandits have so long as we can keep the scepter."
"You could come back with us, too," Rosha said. "You can be royally pardoned for your crimes."
"I think not," Kell said, as she began walking and moved straight past Aladorn, who tried humbly to block her. "I won't entertain delusions. This isn't a simple chore to come in and pick out the scepter like it's a bottle of milk. These men aren't just dangerous, they're desperate, and they are involved in a crime that exceeds mere banditry."
"What could that be?" Darrion asked. Aladorn huffed and turned to her.
"Would this have anything to do," he said, "with the Ravenmere affair?"
Kell turned to him with knowing concern. He grew smug as the attention turned his way. Darrion and Rosha, the two from the furthest rung away from the citybound society, turned with curiosity piqued.
"Ah, yes, how shall I explain. So, do you remember how I spoke somewhat ill of Grannitewatch's royal countenance and credibility in the eyes of many?"
"You did say something like that," Darrion said. "Of dirty tricks to undo the Trials."
"Yes," he said. "And the dirtiest of all would be royal subterfuge. To enact crimes upon the lands of others, which compromises the ruling House's stability and causes strife to spread outward from royal hands. For example, for a Prince to lose his scepter, a symbol of the family's power, and then in response, he spread his guards far and wide, overworked and underpaid, to retrieve it without hope. How would this situation continue if the search went on for months? Or, if the scepter was recovered in the lands of a foreign Houselord? And what if a third party removed from all controversy planted it there for the two wronged Houses
to exchange blame over?"
"So, wait," Darrion said, "you mean it's.... it's like a dirty prank."
"A lethal one," Kell said. "And it's true. The bandits are here intentionally. They come from the land of Ravenmere on the Lord's orders."
"That is impressive," Aladorn said. "To be a bandit elevated enough to gain council with one of the Houselords."
He turned slightly to the side to where he faced the other two while Kell remained at his side.
"This may be above your calling."
"That just makes it all the more important to retrieve it," Darrion objected. "If I understood that right, what you're saying is this could result in a war breaking out between the Houses, is that true?"
"Perhaps," Aladorn said. "It's more likely to affect the Trials two years out. If there is an unreached controversy affecting relations, the Houselords could delay them, and the process of ascension as a result. And one of the Houses which could advocate to stall them out would be the one offended by the crime of theft, who is also the current ruling House."
"And then what?" Rosha asked.
"Rumors," Kell said. "That the Lord of the Realms is hoarding power under a paltry excuse. A Prince's scepter going missing is a personal offense but not a crime that should stop the world. If they relent to bandits, they will seem weak and easily deposed. If they remain adamant against the notion of crime, they will seem too flimsy and easily offended. The game is rigged against them no matter what action. If the scepter is gone, Grannitewatch will shoulder the world's blame for any action they take. Such is the pains of royalty, to know the right answer is always wrong."
"Well said," Aladorn said, as he fully took her side. "Now, as the group wizard, and therefore most well-read and wisest of us all, I would suggest we take the lead of Lady Kell here and depart out the secret exit. We can leave down the path and open it up so the guards may try their best and leave the fate of the world to the hands of those who can actually guide it."
"First," Kell said, "I have to retrieve my things."
Aladorn immediately returned to facing away from her beside Darrion.
"She wants to stay!" he exclaimed.
"Look," Darrion began, "there's more at stake here than I realized. I can admit I was blinded by opportunity and my own purposes, but I won't refuse the call to a greater good if I can help it."
"The greater good," Kell said, "always gets the most people killed."
"Then a more salient good," he said, fishing deep for a word he'd heard before that might fit. "And it's likely all your things are in the same place as the treasure we're after. We may as well work together up to that point. As long as we leave with the scepter, we'll help you escape, and leave a good word for your name if you ever need it."
"Are you sure?" Kell asked, seductively. She got up close and pressed herself against Darrion, who stood too shocked to resist it. A life of being coddled by elderly women or throttled by his aunt made him selectively sensitive to the closeness of a woman like her. Though she was physically imposing, up close, he saw she was also beautiful.
"I could just steal it from you once we find it."
A shining piece of metal slowly descended between their faces. Rosha held her spear with careful control in the air between them and slowly pushed it toward Kell's face.
"I'm sorry to do that," she said, "but I'd really rather not kill anyone. If I can help it."
She withdrew her spear and aimed it down at one of the groaning guards. They all dropped their own personal misconceptions and notions to wrap up the guards and gag them as fast as possible.
While working together, Kell continued her morose expression into nothingness, and when the guards were all bound up, and she had a knife in each hand, she stood up and sighed with relent in her voice.
"Fine," she said. "If you're so confident, then you can get yourselves killed. I'll help you, but only up to the point where it seems like you may still succeed."
"Thank you," Darrion said.
The group all concluded their minds together and united for their goal. Deep within the taken fortress, they gathered their strength and their courage to plunder from the plunderers and end whatever war there was worth beginning.
Chapter 14
THE NIGHT WENT DEEP, and the sky was dark with clouds. Down in the fortress yard, the bandits held a light, noiseless revelry. Their gathering had all the same energy as the day after a harvest, where a town of hard and honest workers would band together to get the last of the hardest work done and haul loads of freshly grown crops to the town storehouse.
But there were no farmers, current or former, working in the bandit camp. They were brigands and outlaws and men of fortune. Instead of whittling away their lives with idle work and family matters, they practiced violence as their trade and plundering as their sport. Each and every bandit in the fortress was armed. Some had hatchets blunted from woodcutting or pickaxes, but none were armed for work or toil. They only wore things on their belts or across their backs for battle.
Up in the keep, the leaders of the camp kept themselves away from their own employed riffraff below in the fanciest lodgings. The highest room of the keep was meant for a general or a king, though it had been long since unfurnished. Instead, they kept it as a storehouse for their more luxurious goods, including rugs and blankets fashioned into a saggy throne that the bandit leader sat on.
He was a huge man, with an incredibly strong chest and a thick gut. He had the look of a fieldman, one who could rival an ox in plowing strength with his arms alone. He was all strength, but with his level gaze and stern expression, his face spoke of patience and thoughtful concern. Those among him were his lieutenants, ones good with money, and with clean appearances. Negotiators and speakers for the outsourced work they did.
"Has it started yet?" he asked.
One of his men took out a spyglass and poked it through one of the rampart windows in the room. He gazed off into the night, but his view was obstructed by smoke.
"I'll check and report back," he said.
The leader sighed a deep, grumbling sigh and slid forward on his pelt throne to a table where a line of documents was prepared.
"They mock me with this," he said. He picked one up and turned it around. "They send so many words to a man who cannot read."
"Does anything else confuse you?" a woman asked.
She was the most austere of them all, and hardly a bandit by any definition. She was elegant and composed, not strong but did not seem misplaced. She wore dark clothing with a feathery hem, Raven-black from end to end, and had bright auburn hair tied back in a braid that was slightly loosened from the wear of days.
"If you'd like, I can read through it again."
"The plan is sound," he said, "and the payment is fine. I know what games these royal men play. Can you admit that they sent you for no better reason than to play a nurse or nanny to a man like me?"
"I apologize," she said with a courteous, trained bow, "that my presence has upset you, Edrich of Firstmond."
Edrich leaned back again with his anger quelled.
"No, no," he said. "I meant no ill will toward you. Once our part ends, these lands will be abandoned for some time. I worry about the future."
"That is because," one of his men said as he ordered a rack of weapons, "you are our Lord, sire. You're the only one who does. The rest of the men, myself included more often than not, aren't convinced that we will have a tomorrow. They have to live now, or else, when?"
"Well," Edrich said with a wide, toothy smile, "that's what makes them so good at their job. If everyone worried about when they're going to die, like me, no one would take the best risks to bring in the most money."
He and the lieutenant laughed, and the lady of Ravenmere laughed with them, although very stiff and flat. The scout returned in with his spyglass in hand to the uproar with a concerned look on his face.
"Well?" Edrich asked. "Has it begun?"
"Seems so," he replied. "I saw the signals
from the city."
"Good," Eldrich said. He looked around and sighed once more, with comfort. "Then we ride this out together."
"Just like always," the orderly bandit smirked.
Unknown to them, they were already besieged in a silent, subversive way. Underneath the Bandit Lord's feet, many floors down in the main keep, two guards were taken out from behind, one strangled and the other stunned with a stiff hilt to the head, and were dragged away to unseen imprisonment.
The unbound infiltrators, led by Darrion and Aladorn with the map in their possession, wound their way through the architecture and took to secret avenues to avoid the open halls. The fortress had many hidden alcoves and places where torchlight wouldn't reach, hiding places for ambushes to set up in case invaders stormed it to gain some small advantage.
Those safe ways became their lifeline. They entered from the hold of the prison and were already within the main keep.
"Here," Aladorn pointed. "We're right about here now."
"Okay," Darrion whispered. "The vault should be underneath us, then."
"It's two floors down," Kell said. "They blindfolded me when they took me out, but I counted their steps and kept myself aware of the direction their plodding feet carried me. They thought far enough ahead to take me on a winding tour of this place, even outside, before we reached the prison."
"That's awful," Rosha hushed. "How do we fight off smart bandits?"
Darrion turned to Aladorn.
"Are you still able to do some magic?"
Aladorn rolled his eyes.
"If I have to, yes, but there are drawbacks. I can't just make fire appear at will all the time, forever."
"But what about sparks?" Darrion asked. "Small flames?"
"That's not hard," Aladorn proudly admitted. He moved his fingers together to snap them, but Darrion shielded them with his hand.
