by Rick Dearman
*
“Wake up old man!”
Adderand was awakened sharply with the business end of a sword against his throat. When he opened his eyes there was a sharp pain as the brilliant light burned into his skull. He yelled out in pain.
“Get up!” said the voice. Adderand was unable to open his eyes. He stumbled to his feet as he felt strong hands pull him up. He held his hands out groping for something to hold on to.
“Hello Adderand. Where is your little sneak thief friend Seevan?” said the voice.
Laughter filled the air. Adderand stood and tried to locate the man based on the sound of his voice. He wondered if there was more than one. Oddly the voice sounded familiar. Disorientated and confused Adderand decided the best thing to do was to brazen his way though.
“Who are you?” Adderand demanded.
Suddenly Adderand felt a blow to his head. He dropped to his knees blood gushing. His cracked ribs screamed in agony. The Seevan's small backpack was pulled from his body. He heard a jingling sound like little bells ringing as the robber moved.
“Well, well, well. We seem to have a lot of very valuable gems here. There are a lot of robbers in these parts Adderand. I’ll have to make sure these are put in a safe place. More important however is the scroll case in your belt. I’ll take that.”
Adderand sat up slowly his ribs sending sharp pains all along his body. He turned his face toward the area that the voice was coming from. Why couldn’t he see? This question ran through his mind constantly. Suddenly it struck him! It was the sword. When he had been walking out of the caves he'd thought the sword was shining with enough light to show him the way. When he had emerged the starlight was so bright it was almost painful. This is why the sunlight was splitting his head open with the pain.
He felt the scroll case being pulled from his belt. He tried to grab it but failed.
Who was this? How does he know me? thought Adderand. He could hear the man moving and each step produced a ring bell tone. It definitely was coming from the robber not Adderand’s head.
“Friend, I don’t mind you’re robbing me. I’ve been on your side of the business myself in the past. But this scroll case belongs to a friend of mine, and it needs to go to his widow.”
“Seevan is dead? Interesting. What is wrong with you? Can’t you see,” asked the voice.
Adderand began to speak in a slow menacing voice. “When I was ten my parents sold me into apprenticeship to a book keeper. He taught me to write lists and do maths. Everyday he beat me. Every night he took me to his bed.”
Adderand struggled to his feet and listened for movement from the area of the voice before continuing.
“When I was eleven I tied up that bookkeeper. I tortured him for five days. The only thing I took away from that house was a list. A list I keep in my head, the bookkeeper was the first one on the list. Since then fifty-three others have made that list, and three of the dead men on the list still walk. You’re on that list Garmarth. But you will not be walking much longer.”
“About time you recognised me. You can’t see my hand can you? I’m waving at you.” The robber began to laugh again. “Well the great Adderand is blind.”
“You’re a traitor and a coward. It dinna matter if I’m blind or not you’re a dead man.”
“Well in that case you’ll need to keep your sword.” Garmarth said and laughed.
Adderand heard the blow before it hit him. In the slave pits he’d been trained to fight blindfolded. If not for the stiffness in his ribs he might have avoided the blow. The flat of the sword blade cracked into his head for the second time. He heard the man still laughing as he lost consciousness.
