Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves

by C. Greenwood

  More enemies joined the first, fanning out around me. I backed away but was acutely aware every reluctant step carried me farther away from the injured Terrac. With my friend lying prone on the ground and me creeping backward like a cornered rabbit, the Fists evidently remembered that it was preferable to take me alive. They crowded in tighter, and I spun in a circle, impossibly attempting to keep my eyes on all of them, while brandishing my bow before me like a club.

  Some of my opponents laughed and I realized how pathetic I must look.

  “Nice staff you have there, thief,” said one of the Fists, a short, bearded man with curly hair. “Now why don’t you just put it down and surrender?” His voice wasn’t unfriendly and he appeared to take it for granted I would do as he asked.

  When I didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “Got any more knives up your sleeves?” and took a measured step closer, as if testing my reaction.

  “Come on, Bane,” one of his friends encouraged. “If she had any more, she’d have used ‘em by now.”

  Emboldened either by that observation or by my hesitation, the man called Bane moved nearer still. I darted a quick glance behind me, but there was nowhere left to run.

  Bane seemed to read my thoughts. “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “Our archers would drop you before you go six paces. But we don’t want to do that—not unless you leave us no choice. You heard our captain. He wants you alive so he can ask a few questions.”

  “I don’t doubt he does,” I said. “You caught several of my friends the other day and I saw their condition when you were done questioning them.”

  Another Fist grinned. “So you found the bodies, did you?” he asked. “We hoped you would. Think of it as a little present from all of us. That’ll be the fate of every one of you thieving scum before we’re through. The Praetor has sworn to it.”

  Bane waved him to silence and said to me, “If you saw what happened to your friends, you know some of my comrades can get overzealous in their work. You’d be wise to throw yourself on the mercy of our captain while you can. If you don’t, I’m afraid you won’t be all in one piece by the time he arrives.”

  He nodded toward Terrac’s motionless form. “Anyway, look how far running got your friend. It doesn’t have to end the same way for you. The captain is a fair man and he might let you off easily on account of your youth. So why don’t you lay down your weapons and come along with us? We’ll take you straight to him and the two of you can talk things over.”

  I hesitated. You could never trust a Fist, but what choice did I have? Even as this man spoke, he’d been sidling closer until he was only an arm's length away. Suddenly, he was reaching for me.

  In the same instant, my bow grew hot in my hands, startling me so badly I nearly dropped it as it flared to life, shedding a brilliant fiery light. Simultaneously, I felt its powerful presence awakening, not just in the bow itself, but somehow inside my mind.

  I shook my head against the disorienting sensation, even as I saw the Fist grabbing for me, and darted out of his way. Another enemy took a swipe at me and I narrowly evaded his sword. Bane shouted at the others to hold back, but he must have seen, as I did, that the game was over. He couldn’t control his companions, and I wasn’t about to stand there and let them kill me.

  I feinted to one side, the nearest enemy moved to intercept me, and I dodged the other direction, diving through the opening he had left.

  Free at last, I flew through the trees with renewed energy, hearing my enemies scrambling after me. They were mere steps behind—the nearest had only to stretch out a gauntleted hand to touch me. But Brig used to say I was the fastest runner he ever saw, and I tapped into some new source of strength now. I had no idea from where it came. I only knew that the distance between the Fists and me was widening. Remembering the archers, I ran in a zigzag pattern, putting as many trees between their bows and me as possible. My unnatural speed compensated for the lost ground and the gap continued to grow.

  As soon as I was out of view, I dropped into a cluster of weeds, allowing my pursuers to pass by. Then I ran on in the opposite direction, never slowing. The scrape across my belly burned, where the Fist’s blade had scored my skin, but the pain drove me on. Returning to the outlaw camp was impossible, not when it could lead the enemy to our door. Instead, I raced toward the setting sun, relieved when I began passing familiar landmarks. All of Dimming was home, but there were parts I knew better than others, and I was coming onto safer ground.

  The sun had sunk behind the trees and the first stars were twinkling in the evening sky when I splashed into the shallow waters of Dancing Creek. I slogged downstream, following the pull of the swift current as it swirled and capriced over stones and around fallen logs. The creek bed was slick with moss. Thousands of tiny pebbles shifted and skittered beneath my boots, and then the stream deepened and I found myself wading through pools of murky, green water up to my thighs. A little distance farther and the creek shallowed at a section of rapids. The current was so strong here it pulled me off my feet more than once. Always I scrambled up and hurried on. I was exhausted by the time I reached a place where the creek split into two smaller streams. I took the least obvious one and pushed on until I was waist-deep in a pool of stagnant water. I could go no farther.

  An immense tree grew along the bank, its spreading roots stretching out to skim the water. I ducked under the slimy surface, swam beneath the tangle of roots, and emerged within their embrace, pressing into the muddy bank to conceal myself. There was a sort of large animal den burrowing from the water’s edge up beneath the tree and, unslinging my bow, I shoved it into the tunnel and pulled myself up after. My feet were left dangling in the water. It was unnervingly dark and I tried not to dwell on the possibility of the wild creature that lived in this den returning. Or worse, of the Fists finding me trapped and at their mercy.

  But even these fears couldn’t hold my thoughts for long as, strength spent, I rested my cheek in the gritty mud and allowed my eyelids to droop. My last conscious action was to shove the unnerving bow as far from me as I could. It had stopped glowing, but I could still feel its presence in my head, as I succumbed to sleep. Strange, soft murmurings of the thrill of battle and the sweetness of blood whispered through my dreams that night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The following morning I awoke to find myself still free, or as free as anyone could be trapped deep in a burrow beneath an old elder tree. It was no easy feat wriggling out of the muddy hole and dragging my bow out after me. I still seemed to hear the echo of its voice from yesterday, insinuating thoughts of violence into my mind. It was cold to the touch this morning and lifeless as any other bit of dead wood, but I hadn’t forgotten how it glowed during the fight, throbbing with a life and strength of its own. As soon as it was safe, I promised myself I would be done with the thing, would cast it off to rot someplace and try to forget its disturbing effects. But for now, I needed to hold onto it a little longer.

  Under the light of day, I was troubled to remember I had lost my mother’s brooch. I had last seen it in Terrac’s possession and with his capture, it too was lost to me. The severing of this final connection to my past was a blow, but I couldn’t focus on it now. I had other problems to occupy my mind.

  I examined the shallow cut across my belly inflicted by the Fist’s blade yesterday. It was less painful this morning, and I didn’t think it would take long to heal. After rinsing my injury in the stream, and breakfasting quickly on a handful of berries, I set out.

  It was still in the early hours of the morning when I left the creek behind me. Sometime during the night I settled on a plan. I didn’t know whether Terrac still lived and if he did, what tortures he could be suffering even now at the hands of his captors. But I had to find out and I had to do it alone. Rideon and the others would want no part of what I had in mind.

  My purpose firm, even if I had no idea how I would carry it out, I made time as quickly as I could, knowing Terrac may have little of it t
o spare. Although I sacrificed stealth for speed, I attempted as I walked to keep a wary eye out for enemies and was grateful when the woods around me appeared to hold no one but myself and the occasional bird or squirrel.

  In this way I traveled for two days, until I left the shelter of Dimmingwood and stepped out into open country. Here, I found before me vast rolling meadowlands, such as I had not seen since my childhood. The low, green hills stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction, save the one from which I came. Unaccustomed to so much open space, I felt vulnerable and unsettled by the scarcity of bushes or trees. Still, I had to forge ahead. Terrac needed me.

  With the forest at my back, I set my face toward Selbius, where I believed the Fists would be taking Terrac. I had no delusions about what I was doing. Selbius was the Praetor’s city and I was walking into the jaws of the lion. My only hope was that I might have help when I reached Selbius. If I could find the priest, Hadrian, perhaps he would be familiar enough with the city to offer me guidance in locating Terrac. I tried not to think any further ahead than that.

  It was late into the evening of my second day when I spotted a collection of rising green humps in the distance that I recognized from other people’s descriptions as the settlement of Low Hills. This marker told me I had only a few more miles before I would be within sight of Selbius. If I walked all night, I could arrive there the next day.

  My legs rebelled at the thought and for the first time in my life I found myself longing for a horse to ride. In Dimming, my own feet had always been good enough, but with the stretch of land I had yet to travel and my gnawing anxiety driving me forward, I felt I could not get to Selbius quickly enough. Tomorrow was the first day of Middlefest, and I hadn’t forgotten Hadrian’s invitation to rendezvous at the Temple of Light on that day. If I arrived too late, my chances of finding him in the strange city were small.

  So I pushed weariness and aching muscles to the back of my mind and kept my feet moving until I came upon a broad, straight highway. Here, there was a weathered signpost with arms pointing in three directions, one indicating the way to Kampshire, another to the provincial border with Cros, then to Black Cliffs and on clear to the coast. I ignored both these and followed the third option, which would take me to Selbius.

  I traveled for a time, feeling uncomfortably exposed beneath the bright moonlight. There were no shadows to conceal me, no hint of any cover, except the occasional bramble bush growing along the side of the way. I was acutely aware anyone coming up the road behind me would have a full view of me long before I had any idea of their presence, but I tried not to dwell on that. My muffled footsteps were loud in my ears and I longed for the familiar creak and rustle of treetops swaying overhead. Even the noisy chirrup of tree frogs would have been welcome just then.

  But I didn’t have to suffer the stillness much longer because by the time dawn’s pale light streaked the skies, I began encountering other traffic. When I sighted the first wagon clopping in from the opposite direction, I dived into a low ditch at the side of the road and hid until it passed by. Not much later, a group of travelers herding a train of pack animals approached from behind and caught me unawares. It was too late to conceal myself for they must already have seen me. So I forced myself to march woodenly onward, face turned straight ahead. No one so much as glanced my way as they passed, so after that I didn’t bother leaving the road again, but put on an innocent face and tried to look like any law-abiding citizen who had a right to be where I was.

  As the morning wore on, the sun grew hot and the air thick with dust kicked up by the long string of traffic now winding down the road. I was nearly run down several times by horse and wagon alike, so I quickly learned to keep to the road’s edges. It didn’t take me long to feel how conspicuous I was among these people. Noticing none of the other travelers approached a state as filthy and bedraggled as the one I was in after my recent experiences fleeing the Fists, I stopped long enough to smooth my hair back into a tidier tail and to wet a portion of my tunic with my tongue, using it to swipe at my dirty face. My clothing was beyond help, but I straightened my jerkin and rolled up the muddy sleeves of my tunic, by way of improvement. That didn’t stop the next person to pass me, an old man with a cart full of potatoes and blackroots, from directing a suspicious stare my way, as though he thought I was going to steal the pitiful contents of his cart.

  I grinned cheekily back at him and raised my hands to show they were empty.

  “Useless woods folk,” I heard him mutter as he drove on.

  I shrugged at the unprovoked insult and kept walking.

  “First visit to the city, is it?” said an unexpected voice nearby. I started because I hadn’t noticed the black-haired young man falling into step alongside me. He followed close behind a passing wagon, which seemed to be part of a long train winding its way toward the city.

  “What makes you think I’ve never been before?” I asked. I was a little tired of passersby looking at me as if I were a toad crawled out of the woods.

  The young man appeared unoffended by my tone. “Well, if you had, you’d not be returning to it. You’d know by now why woods folk avoid Selbius. It’s not the safest of places for your sort. I’m Jem, by the way. Jem of Low Hills. I’m one of Banded Beard’s merchant guards.”

  I ignored the introduction, not offering my own name. “I never said I was one of the woods folk.”

  “No, but you are just the same. I can recognize you people on sight. You gawk at everything like you never saw daylight before and jump at every stranger who gives you good morning.”

  I tried to hide my nervousness, grateful his assumption had taken him only halfway to the truth. Better to be thought a woods villager than be recognized for a forest brigand.

  I said, “You talk as though woods folk have cause to feel unwelcome in the city. Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “There’s some as always suspect your kind of looking for trouble or anything to steal. Woods folk have a reputation for causing a stir.”

  At my expression he said, “But cheer up, friend. No need for the fierce scowl. You’re not in trouble yet and you don’t need to be. No reason for the guard to single you out.”

  “Guard?” I asked, my head snapping up. “What guard?”

  “You have been in the woods a while, haven’t you?” he said. “There’s always a handful of city guardsmen keeping an eye on the gate, at the call of the Gate Clerk. He has a table to one side, where he records the folk coming and going and what goods they bring in and out.”

  I groaned, stopping in my tracks, and Jem had to haul me aside by one arm to save me being run over by a passing wagon.

  “I’ve told you, there’s nothing to worry about. Might be a good idea, though, to keep moving before we get ourselves trampled.”

  I allowed him to drag me forward as he continued. “I’ll help you out,” he said. “There’s no reason anyone should look twice at you up at the gate. Woods villager or not, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  If he only knew. Still, I was grateful for the aid he offered.

  “Why should you help me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you enough. I’ve cousins in one of the woods villages and if they were to come to the city, I’d want a stranger to give them a hand. Now then, here’s the trick. The city guard don’t care much for woods folk, so if they recognize what you are, you’ll be lucky to get in the gate. It’s a situation that calls for a little deception.”

  As he spoke, he shrugged out of his long grey coat.

  “Here,” he said. “Slip this on over your clothes until we’re past the gate and stick close to my master’s wagons, as I do. Doesn’t nobody want to bother a merchant’s guard, even if you look a little young for the part.”

  I was hesitant about the plan, but he was already shoving his coat at me and I didn’t want to attract the attention of other passersby by wrestling the coat back and forth. Slipping the bow from my back, I handed it to Jem
while I wriggled my arms into the long sleeves of his coat. I pulled the front closed over my deerskin jerkin and instantly felt less conspicuous in the crowd.

  Jem looked satisfied. “There. Now you look like an ordinary farm hand, low on work and hired out to watch trader’s goods. That’s my story anyway.”

  I nodded. I thought he had more the look of a farmer than a fighting man.

  He said, “Just act confident and casual and no one will notice anything amiss.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you for this,” I said.

  “You can repay me by not giving our little pretense away. Now, as to this bow...” He hefted the weapon. “This marks you plainer than deerskins. Let’s tuck it into the back of one of my master’s carts until we’re through the gate.”

  He quickened his steps enough to catch the wagon ahead and in a moment the bow was stowed safely away, concealed between rows of barrels.

  Somehow having the bow even an arm’s length away felt too distant, but I told myself not to be foolish. I hadn’t had the weapon very long and there was no reason to suddenly feel so dependent on it.

  Selbius came into view long before we were anywhere near it. In a land this barren and treeless, the city was visible for miles in any direction. At first, I could scarcely make out the looming grey walls in the distance for the blinding glare of the sun glinting from the surrounding waters. Jem told me Selbius meant, in the tongue of our ancestors, a house built over water. The name was apt because the entire city had been constructed over a small isle in the midst of a vast lake. It wasn’t one of the larger cities of the kingdom or even the largest one in the province, I knew, but to me it seemed immense. I thought there must be many thousands of people packed within the great granite walls.