by JF Smith
Already in a single day, he had startled a fox and also spotted a bear in the distance. His heart had given a jump at the sight of the fox, but the coloration was definitely not like Pe’taro’s, whose pelt was very unique. And that was not even considering that there was no way Pe’taro could have lived this long in the wild. The bear that Gully had seen in the distance was lumbering away from him, so he had waited until it was safely gone before resuming his methodical search. It reminded Gully how much more careful he would need to be in this section of the wood; he rarely had to deal with animals such as these in the southern half.
As he expected, he emerged back out onto the South Pass Road. His plan was to walk back to the west for a few minutes, back towards his cabin, then leave the road and pick a secure and hidden spot to camp for the night.
He walked quietly along, watching the sparkflies begin to emerge for the evening in the warm, summer air. Their soft lights, some green-gold, some pink, and others a pale blue, winked on and off as they floated amongst the trees and brush. A moment later, his nose caught something and he stopped. In the fading light, his eyes were doing him no favors, so he closed them and concentrated. His nose had picked up on the faint smell of smoke. He was headed into the breeze, so whatever was burning was still ahead of him somewhere. His ears strained to see if he heard anything, but they did not. He walked on a little further and could tell the source of the smoke was off the north side of the road.
He hesitated for only a moment, thinking nervously of the stories of the monsters and even cannibals, before he left the road to follow the smell to its source. He picked his way carefully among the tall firs, pines, and larches and the massive yews and alders, his feet avoiding sticks and dry leaves that would make too much noise and give him away. Some distance off the road, his ears began to hear faint sounds. He heard the laughter of at least two men and then spotted the faint glimmer of a campfire a ways off and behind some undergrowth.
Gully stopped and waited behind the trunk of a large alder, keeping careful watch all around in case there were more of whoever was camping there and who might surprise him from behind. Ten minutes of intense listening and watching gave no indication of any more people, so Gully began to slowly approach the campsite. He reached a thicket of laurel and covered his head momentarily with the hood of his surcoat to help conceal his face. He peeked through the laurel leaves at the scene in front of him and saw two men drinking from a wineskin as they reclined around a fire. Their backs were to him and they were laughing to each other about the poor quality of the pisswater they were drinking. Gully lowered his hood again so it did not interfere with his hearing.
He immediately picked up on two things regarding the men in front of him. The first was that the wineskin they were drinking from could not be their first of the evening. Their bawdy laughter and slurred speech showed they had to be into probably their second. The other thing he noticed was more troubling. The men were dressed as highwaymen — robbers and cutthroats that preyed on those using the remote roads and byways.
Gully made a decision. Normally, he would avoid desperate, violent criminals like these, but these two were far down their road of drunkenness for the night, and soon they would be out. And he thought how easy would it be to steal from men passed out when they thought they were hidden and alone in the forest? He smiled to himself to think it might be days before they realized they’d been relieved of whatever valuables they had with them. Surely even Roald would laugh at the idea of highway robbers being burgled when they least expected it! Perhaps he could get Roald to take and use whatever money he could squeeze out of these two while they slept — money stolen from bad and turned to good again.
Even as his plan was hatching, their laughter and banter was growing quieter and Gully knew he wouldn’t have to wait long. He watched the sky and the last of the light rapidly fading, light he should have been using to find his own campsite for the night, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. If he spent a restless night as a result of having to settle in somewhere that he picked in the dark and had little confidence in, then so be it.
Within thirty minutes, the conversation between the two robbers had ceased and one was snoring peacefully with his coat over him like a blanket. The other robber drank a little more from the wineskin, stoked the fire a few times with a stick, and then settled back under his own coat, the same as his companion in crime. Gully waited for another twenty minutes, listening to the steady snoring of both men until he had no doubt that they were deep in a wine-induced sleep.
He placed his pack on the ground and stood up to approach the men. After a few cautious steps towards them he thought he heard a sound off in the dark, on the far side of the fire. It was only a fragment of a sound, and it might have been his imagination, but it sounded like it could have been a person. He stopped in place and listened closely, his muscles tensed to turn and run, but he heard nothing else. He waited nervously to be very sure and reminded himself that patience was the best tool a thief could have in his pocket. No other unusual sound came to his ears, so he crept soundlessly around the laurel bushes until he was within a few feet of the blaggards.
Gully froze in place again once he saw their faces more clearly in the firelight. They were still sound asleep, but the situation had changed drastically with the closer inspection. Gully bit at his lip and wondered if what he was seeing was the truth or not.
These men did not look like highwaymen from close up. Their complexions were too fair for men that lived out of doors the majority of the time. Their faces were full and healthy. Their hair was neatly cut. These men, on closer inspection, could not be highwaymen. They were merely dressed to appear as if they were. In fact, looking at their style of hair, Gully was tempted to say they could easily be swordsmen in the Kingdom Guard. There was absolutely something more going on with them than appeared at the surface, though.
He knelt down silently as he studied them longer and tried to decide if this was now a bad idea or not.
He weighed the risks and finally alighted back on his original plan. If these men wanted to appear as robbers of the woods, then they should expect to be treated that way.
Gully noiselessly stepped over their feet to where their bags were laying next to them. He knelt down and opened the first bag; he dug around with his hands and kept one eye on the two sleeping men in case they stirred or heard him. He found a small purse of coins, which he quickly pocketed. He moved on to the second bag and found a larger sum of money tucked away in it. He put it away in his surcoat with the first, and then felt around some more in the man’s bag. His hand struck something unexpected for highwaymen and he pulled it out. What he had found was a knife used by the Kingdom Guard, this one with veBasstrolle’s insignia upon it.
Gully frowned at the weapon. It was possible it had been stolen from a guard, but not likely. Highwaymen, real ones, avoided the Kingdom Guard as much as Gully normally did. The knife and the physical appearance of the two sleeping men made Gully conclude they were almost certainly guards of veBasstrolle’s fief in disguise.
He stood, slipped the knife into his belt, and looked more closely at the men, trying to understand what game they were playing at by dressing this way. As he began to puzzle over it, a sound behind him gripped his heart like a hand made of ice. It was not the wind, and it was not an animal. He distinctly heard a person behind him this time. He carefully turned and expected to see a third member of the party watching him, ready to attack or alert his sleeping friends, but there was no one there. He waited a moment more and heard the sound again, very faintly. His confusion grew as it was undoubtedly a human sound, but not the sound of someone speaking.
Gully stealthily crept past the men and back into the darkness of the woods around him. The bright light from the laughing moon was shining all around, filtering through the tall trees to the forest floor below as best it could. He reclaimed his pack while he waited and watched again, the fine hairs on his arms prickled up at the strange
groaning sounds he had heard. Neither of the highwaymen, or guards or whoever they were, awoke or even slowed their snoring.
Gully kept to the dark and began to slowly circle around the campsite to the far side from where the sound had originated, watchful and careful in case more people were present. He took his time, and used the tree trunks for cover as he snuck around. On the opposite side, and beyond the light thrown by the campfire, he began to make out the form of two more men leaning against a tree.
Part of him told him there were more of the disguised guards than he had originally anticipated and he would best be served by sneaking away as quickly and quietly as he could before his little escapade turned on him. But another part nagged at him that something was not right.
He stayed to the deepest shadows he could find and crept closer to the two men against the tree.
What he saw shocked him.
The two men were completely unclothed, not even given the benefit of barecloths around their waists. And worse than that, they were chained to the tree by tight metal collars around their necks. Gully was in shock at what he was seeing. Their faces seemed to have been bloodied in a fight of some kind.
His mind jumped to the first conclusion that popped into it — the men by the fire were highwaymen in truth and had somehow waylaid two Kingdom Guards, robbed them, and now were keeping them prisoner.
Gully had no particular sense of duty towards Kingdom Guards, but neither did he want to see men, any men, treated like this. What if it had been Roald chained by the neck to a tree this way?
Another possibility came to his mind, and it made him tremble at the thought. He wondered if these men were the cannibals of the woods, caked with the blood of a recent victim. He shivered at the thought, and almost turned to leave, but he thought again of the chains and collars holding them prisoner. They were not acting bloodthirsty, and the fact that they were chained emboldened Gully just enough.
He looked around and picked out the best escape route he could. If things fell apart given what he was about to do, he needed to know in advance where he wanted to run as fast as he could. He might not have time to pick the best escape path and so he decided on it before attempting anything more, and then he left his pack on that path so he could grab it without having to find and fetch it. He stood and slowly stepped out of the shadows and started to creep closer to the two men against the tree. He thought that maybe they wouldn’t be able to tell he was there until he got closer, but he realized that both of the men were already watching him. They both already knew of his presence.
If these were the cannibals of the woods, they did not act crazed or violent.
Gully raised a finger to his lips to ask them to remain silent as he crept over to them. The two men, who looked only a few years older than himself once he got close enough to see, made no sounds and let him approach without raising any alarms.
As soon as he knelt next to the closest one, the naked prisoner grabbed at his arm and pulled helplessly at the chain and metal collar around his neck. By the moonlight, Gully could see the pleading in his eyes. He glanced over at the other man, looking just like the first and every bit as desperate. In fact, as Gully realized, they looked identical. Either Vasahle’s fragmented light was playing tricks on him, or these men were brothers and very probably twins.
Gully whispered into the ear of the one closest to him, but loud enough for the other to hear as well, “Do not be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you. Are the men by the fire keeping you prisoner?”
Both of the men nodded sluggishly. Their movements were listless, like they were under the effects of alcohol, same as the men by the fire. It did not matter to Gully, though; he would see these men free. He whispered to them, “The two men by the fire are drunk and asleep. I’m going to free you, but you must not make any sounds at all. I can get you back to the road and to safety from there. Do you understand?”
They nodded again in understanding, and the one next to Gully grabbed his arm again in a gentle plea for his help.
Gully dug into a pocket in his surcoat and pulled out his roll of lock-picks. The sound of one of the men by the fire shifting around made Gully stop and look back over his shoulder, but the man had only rolled over onto his side. He stooped down again and examined the lock on the collar around the first prisoner’s neck. The laughing moon provided not only enough light for him to see the lock mechanism in a stray moonbeam, but also to see more closely the material of which the collar was made. His hand stopped and he looked strangely at the prisoner. Instead of a plain collar made of nothing more than iron or perhaps even a forged steel, the band around the man’s neck was gilded in a sterling silver which glinted very brightly in the moonlight. It was unmistakable.
The men had not said one word to him and had kept quiet as he had asked, but now Gully could not help but wonder at the purpose of the silver gilded collars. Before attempting to open the locks he stepped over to the other prisoner and examined his collar in the moonlight as well. It was the same as the first, gilded in silver with a high degree of craftsmanship. And as he looked into the face of the second prisoner, his other suspicion seemed to be confirmed — the faces of both were identical. These men had to be twin brothers.
He was tempted to ask them what manner of prisoner they were that deserved collars such as these, but decided his curiosity could wait until after he had freed them. He set to work on the first lock, digging into it with his picks, feeling the operation of the lock mechanism through the tips of his fingers rather than needing to see what he was doing with his eyes. It was but a moment, and the lock of the first collar popped open; it was a trivially easy lock to spring. The instant the collar was off of the unfortunate prisoner, he jumped up, the stupor he suffered from gone. It startled Gully, and he was afraid it was perhaps a trap after all, and that he would be next to be chained to the tree, or worse, but the freed man gripped his shoulder and pointed anxiously at his twin still locked in the other collar. Gully’s tense muscles relaxed again and he set to work on the other lock, disengaging it quietly in a few seconds.
The two naked men stood in front of Gully and he could see their bloodied faces better in the firelight now, the flames reflecting intensely in their dark brown eyes. The second prisoner smiled weakly at Gully and grasped him by the shoulders in thanks.
Gully said to them in a low whisper, “Why have these men hurt you and taken you like this? Why are you held captive this way?” Ignoring the blood on their faces, both men were in excellent shape, strong and healthy, and looked like they could be top guardsmen.
Gully waited for an answer, but the faces of the two men fell dispiritedly as they looked at each other. The second one put a hand on Gully’s shoulder and then opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Gully tried to understand why they weren’t answering him, until he looked again and then stepped back from them in horror, almost falling over in his shock. The blood on their faces confirmed it. Gully saw why they had not said a word. Both of these men, naked and bound to a tree, had had their tongues cut out.
Gully started to shake his head in disbelief, unable to fathom the torture these two men had been put through.
He pulled himself together and said more urgently to them, but still in the barest whisper, “Your tongues! Gone! I must get you out of here, back to the road! Follow me, as quiet—”
As he spoke the second prisoner put his hand on Gully’s chest and looked him directly in the eye. He tried to whisper the words, but his lack of a tongue made it nothing more than a formless mumble. Gully suspected it was a “thank you,” though.
Gully started to respond, but the two men turned and ran. He called after them, uttering the single word “wait—” louder than he realized before he caught himself. They were headed away from the road and deeper into the forest. Within seconds, a few sparkflies amongst the trees were all he could see.
He would have gone after them to turn them back towards the road and to safety, but the slip of his
own tongue had not gone unnoticed. Behind him, he heard sounds, and turned to see one of the highwaymen kicking the other awake. Gully turned back to where the two unfortunate souls had run, but he could no longer see them at all. It was like they had disappeared and become nothing more than shadows and pale moonlight.
A split second later, he heard heavy footfalls as both of the criminals were now up and scrambling towards him. Without any more time to wonder what to do, Gully ran. He grabbed his pack and sprinted as fast as he could along the path he had picked out earlier as the best way to escape. Behind him the yells of the two robbers were closer than he preferred and he no longer worried about running silently. He ran for his life and he didn’t care who heard him.
The path he had chosen took him parallel to where the South Pass Road would be, and then he began to veer away from the road slightly. He also tried to place his feet more quietly as he ran, making it harder for the robbers to follow. His bluff seemed to be working as the robbers veered the other way, assuming he had run towards the road instead of away from it.
Just as Gully thought he was safe, he tripped in a shallow creek that he couldn’t see in the dark, falling and splashing in the water with a pained grunt. The angry shouts of the abductors changed direction and came back after him, realizing their mistake. Gully pushed his bag onto his back again and set off running wildly, completely ignoring whatever escape plans he had originally made. The voices behind him separated as he ran; the men were trying to come up on either side of him, trying to flank him. He put on a burst of speed, dangerous in the dark forest, but he would be in far more danger if they overtook him and caught him. He pulled ahead of his pursuers enough to where he thought he might be able to escape, but he tripped yet again, this time on a small bush tangled with wild vines.
