The scout found them again, to their great relief. “No sign of more,” he said. “I’ve been a mile outside Bellford junction. Tracks of the main force are all outbound, but it looks like about twenty horses rode in and didn’t ride back out again.”
“Wagon tracks?” Astrid asked.
The scout shook his head.
“They’re riding light.” Sally said. “Why?”
Woody grit his teeth. “They’re trained to live off the land. They’re gonna take whatever they need wherever they go.”
Standard strategy. They left the horses a distance from the woods and hiked in. The bandits didn’t need to be told. They split off wordlessly and circled the town.
The setup was bad. Most of the town was higher than the woods that provided cover. Astrid ended up on the low side near a large creek. Upstream, a water wheel turned.
“They have a grain mill here?” Astrid asked.
“Yes,” Sally hissed. “I’ll take you on an extended fucking tour, and we can get some fresh pancake mix. What the fuck are we doing?”
Astrid nearly laughed. Sally was really wound up. This was far from the first stealth mission Astrid had been on. Sally was used to lying in wait for caravans. She wasn’t accustomed to the thought of having to raid what might be a garrison of hardened troops.
“Relax,” Astrid said. “Follow my lead.”
They belly-crawled up the bank from the creek, then slipped between two outbuildings. Cows provided cover, but the smell was not so nice. A few feet away, one of Jank’s mercenaries walked by with a crossbow cradled in his arms. It was hard to hide in broad daylight, but the outbuildings provided good cover.
They slipped back between the buildings and came out on the other side to get a good look at the rest of the village.
The scout was right. Astrid counted about twenty men stationed around. It was quiet. The villagers went about their work casting wary eyes at Jank’s men.
One of the cows decided it was time for a lay down and a cloud of straw dust billowed out. Astrid locked eyes with Sally’s suddenly red and watering eyes. She shook her head and fought against a sneeze.
Astrid reached out in a flash and pinched Sally’s nose just above the tip. Sally blinked twice and deflated. The urge to sneeze went away. Another mercenary neared, and they both ducked back behind the building.
“I’ll remember that the next time I have to sneeze,” Sally said quietly when the guard passed by.
Slipping back down the hill, they circled around closer to the single road that entered the village. The ground was higher there, and when they belly-crawled up to the edge of the woods, they had a clear view of the town center.
“What is that?” Sally spoke in a low voice.
From their vantage point by the stables, Astrid hadn’t noticed the wooden object in the town square. Now that Sally pointed it out, Astrid’s blood went cold.
“It’s a stockade,” Astrid said.
Seconds later, as if on queue, three goons dragged a stumbling, shirtless man to the stockade and locked him up. They heard him groaning.
Another man came over with a leather whip. Sally and Astrid ducked back into the forest to the sounds of leather on skin.
Astrid loosened her shoulders and adjusted the rope slung over them and looped around her waist.
“It’s about time I used this,” she said, touching the rope.
“How the hell do you fight with a damn rope?” Sally asked.
Astrid just smiled in response.
They took cover when they heard multiple footsteps approach. Whoever it was wasn’t being careful.
Astrid jumped out from cover when she found George and another of his crew dragging a terrified villager between them.
“What the fuck have you done?” Astrid hissed.
“What?” George said. “We saw him near the treeline so we grabbed him. Figured you’d want to talk to him.”
The young man shook with fear.
“Just relax,” Astrid said. “We’re here to help.”
‘H-help?” the trembling teen said. “You snatched me. You’re bandits. What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to teach these fuckers a lesson,” Astrid said.
“No,” the kid said. “They’ll just send more. Just let them do their jobs, and they’ll go away.” The man at the stockade screamed and the young villager nearly collapsed. “Father.” He sobbed.
“That’s your dad?” George said. “And you let them take him like that?”
“How could I stop them?” the boy asked.
Astrid shot George a withering glare. She took a deep breath and lifted the kid’s chin with her thumb and index finger. “Look at me.” With their eyes locked, she said. “Once we take these fuckholes out, you’ll have all their weapons. If they try to come back, you fill them full of crossbow bolts.”
“I’m not a fighter,” the boy said.
“You’ll learn,” Astrid said. “How many are there?”
“Ninteen,” the boy said.
“What the fuck,” George said. “You were about to piss your pants a second ago. Now you call out ‘nineteen’ sure as counting your testicles.”
“I counted them,” the boy said, suddenly nervous again. “I count things a lot.”
“This is a weird kid,” George said.
“Did you count where they were?” Astrid prodded.
The boy nodded his head.
“And… ” Astrid said, making a circle with her hand.
“Oh,” the boy replied. “Four by the gates at the road, five were walking around the village, two are at my house, two are with the blacksmith, and two are with the horses.”
“That’s fifteen. You’re missing some,” George said.
“Oh. The leader and three others are whipping my dad right now.”
“Why are they doing that?” Gormer asked.
“He asked them to show him paperwork for the extra tribute. They said he was obstructing their work. They say they can take over the town now and punish people any way they want.”
“Where is your house?” Astrid asked with a sinister grin.
The boy pointed to the largest house near the town center. It was the only two-story dwelling. The house stood at the center of a c-shaped configuration of buildings that made up the village. It was surrounded by outbuildings and several other smaller houses with a couple dozen feet between them.
“Who else lives there?” George said.
“My three sisters, my mother, and my younger brother,” the boy said.
George took a breath. “Who is in the house now?”
“Everyone but me and my dad,” the boy said.
“You ain’t all there, are you kid?” George asked.
The boy looked down at his arms, squinted, and cocked his head. “Are you drunk?” the boy asked.
“What?” George asked, exasperated.
“You’re hallucinating if you don’t see all of me.”
Astrid cocked her head. The boy did seem a bit off. He didn’t seem to respond to expressions and sarcasm seemed to go right over his head.
“You better wait in the woods,” Astrid said. “Are they expecting you at home?”
“No,” the boy said. “The bad men don’t pay much attention to me. I usually go study things in the woods around this time.”
“Watch him,” Astrid said to the two bandits with George. “Keep him safe.”
The two men nodded.
“What’s the plan?” Tarkon asked.
Astrid studied Tarkon intensely. “Can you keep yourself from blowing people apart until the time is right?”
Tarkon gave a rare smile that, instead of producing levity, gave Astrid chills. “I can try,” he said. “But I usually don’t exercise restraint in times like this.”
“Fuckin’ psycho,” Gormer said. He sniffed and wiped his nose.
“What about you, hop head?” Astrid said to Gormer. “Are you sober enough to fight?”
“I’
m not a fighter,” Gormer said. “I’m a lover.” He roped his arm around Moxy, who happened to be standing next to him.
The pixie growled like a housecat and her long, white claws grew from the tips of her fingers.
Astrid stepped between the two. She gathered Gormer up by the shirt and pushed him back against a tree.
“Mmm, you’re firm,” Gormer slurred as Astrid pressed him into the trunk. She slapped him hard across the face. “Fuck, OK, OK… ” he stammered. “I’m here, I’m here.”
“Leave him,” George said. “He’s in no condition to—”
Gormer’s eyes turned white and glowed, and a trickle of blood streamed down his right nostril.
George jumped back and raised his mace high above his head. Astrid could tell he stifled a scream.
“He’s a were!” George said.
Astrid had to let Gormer go to keep George from smashing Gormer’s skull with his spiked mace.
“It’s an illusion!” Astrid said.
Gormer stumbled away from the tree laughing. “I can still do what needs to be done,” he mumbled. “Let’s go.”
“OK,” Astrid said. “Here’s the plan.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Southern District, Village of Belford
“I’m so fucking bored right now,” Gormer said, rolling his eyes. “And I can’t listen to that poor dumb fuck get whipped anymore. It’s killing my buzz.”
They had been debating the plan for several minutes, far longer than Astrid hoped. Sally and George turned suddenly oppositional, arguing over every detail. The problem was that there were a lot of moving parts. They had twenty-five bandits waiting in the woods surrounding the camp who all needed to know what was going on.
“Once you dipshits decide what to do, I’ll reach out telepathically to a few of the bandits to let them know the plan,” Gormer offered.
“Even though that might kill you?” Astrid said. “Every time you try using magic, your brains fall out of your nose.”
“Especially because it might kill me. I hate being bored. Just figure it out,” Gormer declared.
“Here comes one of them!” Sally observed.
They all ducked down behind the brush or plastered their backs against the trees. Everyone except Gormer. His eyes glowed white and his nose ran with blood. Astrid was too busy staying out of sight to notice him before he started walking toward the mercenary.
Everyone froze. Gormer walked steadily up to the man, who suddenly smiled, then squatted down. “What’s a little kitty doing here? Come here. I won’t hurt you. I wish I had a treat for you.”
The man stroked an imaginary cat and chuckled. The spectacle of a cold-blooded killer being nice to an imaginary cat felt to Astrid like a fever dream.
Gormer walked around behind him, bent down slowly and carefully brought his arm around the man’s neck. The soldier snapped out of it when Gormer suddenly tightened his arm and began choking.
After two painful-looking elbows to Gormer’s ribs, the man stopped moving, and his face turned purple. Gormer dragged the dead man back into the woods and hid the body.
“What the fuck good is that going to do?” Sally hissed. “We have to do something now before they notice him missing.”
“I know,” Gormer said. “That’s the whole point. I already told some of the others what the plan was.” He turned to George. “Some of your men have truly dirty minds. The things you find when you wander around somebody’s head… ”
“Stop fucking around,” Astrid said with a clenched jaw. “What are we doing?”
“Moxy’s about to go invisible and use those mice in her pouch to panic the horses,” Gormer said.
“They’re snacks,” Moxy said. “How did you know I had mice?”
“First,” Gormer said. “Fucking gross. Second, I want to see you strip.”
Moxy’s pale face turned red, then her skin shimmered. Where she stood, it looked like an empty set of clothes hovered in the air. “Asshole,” she said, and her clothes fell to the ground.
“Damn,” Gormer said. “You didn’t strip first. Oh well. Make the horses panic, then we’ll use the distraction to slip between the buildings unnoticed. I’ll pretend to be this guy and take out as many guards as I can.”
“So, we’re killing all these guys?” Astrid asked.
“If you’ve seen what I’ve seen from them,” Gormer said. “You wouldn't be asking me that question. These fuckers have to go. I’ve been in their heads. Psychos, every last one of them.”
The sound of faint running footsteps and phantom footprints in the moss told Astrid that Moxy was on the way.
“I guess we’re doing this,” Sally said.
“I’m in contact with Moxy,” Gormer said. He brought a rag from his pocket and held it to his streaming nose as his eyes glowed.
“Gormer, this might kill you,” Astrid said with real concern.
“What a fucking relief that would be,” Gormer said. “I hope the illusion holds.” He walked into the field directly toward a group of mercenaries. They showed no signs of agitation as he approached.
“He’s going to get us killed,” Tarkon said as he followed Astrid to the nearest building. “He’s suicidal. Doesn’t give a shit about anything.”
“Wrong,” Astrid said. “He just cares in the wrong way.”
Seconds later, horses screamed and broke free of the coral. Mercenaries ran toward them, while the others formed a wide ring around the main house where their boss was holed up.
“Shit,” Astrid said. “We have to take them on directly, now.”
“No problem,” Tarkon said. He showed a toothy grimace-grin and pulled his pistols from his belt.
“Now who’s suicidal?” Astrid asked. “Follow me. We’ll come at them from those buildings over there.” She pointed to a set of outbuildings nearest the Elder’s house. “That will give us a chance to get close before we go toe-to-toe.”
They sprinted from building to building as bandits slinked from the woods and took cover behind anything they could. The villagers ran from their workplaces and hid in their dwellings, in barns and outbuildings. Some even hid in piles of straw.
Astrid and Tarkon plastered their backs against a two-cow stable and peeked around the corner. More bandits slipped out of the woods. Their stealth and swiftness impressed her greatly. They kept out of the sightlines of the mercenaries who now made a tight ring around the main house.
“This plan kinda failed,” Astrid said. “But at least we know where they all are now.”
“The plan was made by a drug-smoking, suicidal fool,” Tarkon said.
“You left out crazy,” Astrid said. She noticed one of the guards had blood on his face.
Gormer looked directly at Astrid. She was too far away to see the expression on his face, but it was clear he was looking directly at her. Somehow, he ended up in mercenary armor and carried their weapons.
“I’m willing to admit I’ve underestimated this man,” Tarkon said.
Gormer nodded his head once, then twice. On the third nod, he turned his fully loaded crossbow to the man next to him and shot him in the heart. The man dropped like a sack of cabbage.
The failed mystic turned out to be fast with a blade. Four more men fell with blood spurting from their necks while Astrid and Tarkon hurtled toward the house. Gormer’s sneak attack had the men in the front of the house in a frenzy. The shock of bodies dropping so quickly gave Astrid the precious seconds she needed.
Astrid drew from the Well with each running footstep. Strength and calm fury flooded into every muscle. She loosened her rope weapon as she ran and spun one end over her head. She released the line and the egg-shaped dart hurtled forward just as the man pulled his trigger.
The dart shot out ten feet to shatter his forehead. The coil of rope at her waist unwound. She spun like a demonic ballerina as crossbow bolts hissed past. The Well let her see where the men aimed and how to avoid that aim.
Pulling back on the rope made it wrap th
ree times around her waist again as she slowed her spin. She was in their midst now. The egg darts flashed out to shatter faces, arms, and sternums.
The rope wrapped around an arm holding a short sword. Astrid pulled the man in and broke his jaw with her elbow. As he fell, she swung the rope again, and it wrapped twice around his neck. When she whirled around to face the next man, the rope spun him like a top, a loud crack sounding out as his neck snapped.
Tarkon hadn’t even used his pistols yet, instead going to work with the long daggers he kept in sheathes at the small of his back. His body bent and leaned in ways that seemed to defy gravity and human anatomy as he slipped between sword strikes to slice his enemies open.
Gormer was in trouble. He had slashed the face of a man who lunged at him with a short sword while another merc came up behind him.
Astrid lunged in to save him, but she knew it was too late. Only a bandit arrow that pinned the attacker’s head to the wall let Gormer live.
“Whooo! Fuck me, that was close!” Gormer screamed with perverse glee as he picked up a crossbow and loaded it.
BLAM! The first explosion rattled Astrid’s ribcage. Bone and gore splashed against her side as a mercenary beside her fell with his chest blown out. Tarkon turned his pistol to a merc running toward him from the other side of the house.
By now, all the bandits were out of the woods and running through the village. Most of them had bows and arrows, but a few had stolen crossbows. The mercenaries were forced to retreat.
A green streak launched from the roof and felled one of the few mercenaries who were too brave or too stupid to run.
Moxy pulled her bloody claws from the dead man’s chest, then launched herself at another merc. Astrid heard the bandits taking out the mercs who ran from Astrid and the team.
Moxy was a bit too slow. She had to dance back from a short sword that nearly split her in half. Where did that guy come from? Some enemies doubled back from their retreat. There was no safe place for them now.
Moxy stumbled over the man she had just killed. Astrid was too far away to help, but Tarkon wasn’t. He lunged forward past Astrid and blasted the merc with a fireball that consumed him immediately.
Knight's Creed: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 1) Page 18
