by Philip Smith
“That’s my kill,” he said in a deep menacing tone. “Thanks to you, my tree hugging friend, my job is a whole lot easier. I thought I might actually have to fight those men for this haul.”
He cocked his head at Paige, who peered around Robert and Dinendale at him. His yellow teeth grinned at her and gave her a sick feeling in the back of her stomach.
“And look at that, you brought me some female company to boot. What say ye, lass? Fancy being my dinner guest tonight?”
“Pig,” she sneered, spitting on the ground in blatant disdain.
His smile only widened. “I do like me a fighter. Excuse my excitement, lady. We don’t get many women folk out here, you understand?”
He winked at her and Paige felt her skin crawl. Robert’s whole head was turning red with rage as he gripped his spear, end pointed at the archer defensively.
“Who are you?” growled Twostaves, thudding his massive staff against the ground.
“Not that you’ll live long enough to remember,” the stranger replied with a smirk, “but my name is Hranger. And you’re in my mountains.”
“Put that bow down, sir,” Woodcarver said in a calm yet evenly forceful tone.
The archer chuckled. “Or what, mister? You’ll swat me with that staff of yours? Ten gold pieces says I drop you before your heel could hit the ground on your first step towards me.”
“Sorry to point out the obvious, laddie, but there are eight of us and only one of you. You don’t know who you're dealing with,” Broadside said, trying to give a brave laugh. The laugh froze on his lips as the stranger let out a low chuckle that made Paige’s skin crawl.
“No, my fat little dwarf. It is you that don’t know whom you're dealing with.”
The stranger let a shrill whistle out of the side of his mouth and seven bowmen in capes identical to the leader rose from the bushes just a little ways away, arrows trained on the Brotherhood.
“Kill the others,” he said with the voice of a viper, “But the girl is mine.”
“Over my… cold… dead… body,” Dinendale said in a slow, dark tone.
“Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way, elf!”
Dinendale shoved Paige towards the wagon. She hit the dirt rolling, leaping to her feet behind the horse cart, grinding her heels into the dirt for traction.
“Klaíomh!” She shouted, the magic hairpin leaping to life in a flash of blue sparks. Clutching her sword, she scanned the situation, gauging her next move. She saw blood on Robert’s sleeve and felt an invisible hand seize her throat, but she felt a wave of relief to see Hrangar’s arrow had merely grazed him. Twostaves held only one staff, having exchanged the other for his spiked targe. The shield housed two arrows he’d caught defending himself and Broadside. The Brotherhood dove through the air, rolling for cover, as they tried to escape the bandits’ arrows.
The frightened horses screamed and took off, pulling away Paige’s only cover. She leapt towards the side of the moving cart and grasped the wall with her free hand, lifting her feet to hang like a carnival monkey as the wagon lurched down the trail.
“Gailogth!” Woodcarver waved his staff in a wide, sweeping motion. The dust on the ground kicked up with a strong gust appearing from nowhere. The bandits slipped off their feet, crashing to the ground. This gave the Brotherhood just enough time to close the gap between them and their assailants, forcing all to abandon their bows for hand-to-hand combat.
Paige leapt off the cart, able to flank the bandits from their left. The numbers were even, and Paige knew her man; she picked a skinny twig of a human to her left. The bandits held hand-made swords and maces. The skinny lad fumbled for a saber at his side. He drew it just as Paige reached him.
“Ahhhg!” she screamed as she struck as fast and as furiously as she could with Klaíomh. All the pain, all the anger she’d held inside for the last month let loose in one furious burst, her sword flying in a flurry of strokes. She drove him back into the woodline where he gave ground to her blows with increasing speed. As fast as she fought, the boy backed up, scrambling on the inclining ground. Paige noticed the weakness and screamed as she began the hardest assault yet. With powerful swings, she brought the sword from over her head descending on the young man with all the might her small body could muster.
The boy blocked three of these bows feebly before his sword snapped in half with a sharp ping. He fell onto his back, scooting on his thin palms to get away. She closed in on him, and pointed the sword into the skin at the base of his throat.
“Go on, give me a reason to end you, boy!” she yelled. Eyes wide with panic, the lad fumbled to pull something from his belt. She had no idea what it was. It looked like a crossbow, but it had no bow or bolt. He yanked it out of his belt and pointed to her heart.
Something flashed past her ear. The lad’s head snapped back, one of Jesnake’s throwing knives lodged in his forehead. He didn’t even make a sound as his body flopped backwards into the dirt. She stared in shock for an instant then whirled around.
Twostaves fended off a large man, who was not nearly as timid a fighter as Paige’s opponent had been. The giant feigned a stumble and the man took the bait. He swiped, which Twostaves nimbly side stepped, especially considering his size. In that same motion, he back-armed the sharp point of the targe spike straight into the man’s back.
Duelmaster did wonders with a single rapier, having thrown the other to Dinendale as the battle began. The dryad fought his man with lighting speed, dispatching him with a series of quick stabs to the chest like a wasp.
The others were also prevailing in their matches. Broadside ran right underneath one large man’s legs, turned round, and sunk his short sword into the fellow’s hamstring. Robert was winning a battle with his spear, and almost had the man backed into a mound of stones. Dinendale, though not moving about nearly as fast as he normally would, had managed to nick his assailant’s arm and then grab his sword hand, pulling him in as if to embrace him. He then slammed the rapier hilt into the bandit’s face so hard the man’s nose broke. Jesnake had also dropped his own man with a throwing knife, and then had thrown one to help Paige.
Click.
The sound came from behind Paige. She turned her head. Hranger stood pointing another bowless crossbow at her, except this one was longer and required the use both hands. He pulled a piece of metal back, which made a second clicking sound. The metal looked like the head of a snake, and in its jaws was what looked like a piece of flint.
“Paige!” she heard someone scream as she was thrown to the ground.
Chapter 16
Into the Maw
An explosion filled the air, and Paige saw smoke and fire erupt from the end of the weapon as Twostaves shoved her to the ground. Pain shot through her torso as she hit the ground, heard one of her ribs crack, and struck the rocky slope with her head. With a cry of agony, she staggered to her feet. She had to get up before the man came for her, despite how much it hurt.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robert charging Hranger, at full speed, rage carved into his face. He roared as he hurled his spear at the man with enough force to send it through a stone wall. It impaled the man in the chest, going all the way through and protruding out his back and driving into the ground. It propped up the sputtering bandit as he coughed and choked on his own blood before expiring.
“Princess!” Broadside cried, rushing to her side at a full run. “Are you hurt?”
“My ribs,” she said clutching her side. “I think one is broken. I-wait! Twostaves!” she cried. The giant was on the ground next to her struggling to sit up.
“My leg. It’s in my leg,” he grunted, his teeth clenched in pain. Blood poured from an open hole like the one that had sent the wagon driver to meet his Creator. It was high in the meaty part of the giant’s thigh. Robert pulled off his robe and shoved it on the wound, applying pressure.
“Not laughing at the robe now, are you ya bellowing cow?” Robert smirked. Twostaves let out a laugh that quickly turne
d into gasps of pain as Robert pushed harder on the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.
“Can you heal it?” Robert asked Woodcarver.
The magician looked the wound over. “Aye, but we must get the lead out first.”
“Lead?” Paige asked, worried and confused.
“I’d heard the Shahir’s army had been outfitted with a new type of weapon, but I’ve never seen one for myself.” Woodcarver grimaced as he inserted his knife tip into the wound. Twostaves howled in pain, slamming his fist into the dirt repeatedly.
“It’s called an arquebus,” muttered Dinendale. “And I have seen one before. It uses fire to hurl lead out of that tube faster than an arrow could ever hope to be.”
“I didn’t know! Twostaves, I’m so sorry!” she pleaded.
“Not… your fault,” he said with gritted teeth. “Didn’t… know… better.”
Woodcarver twisted the point of the knife around. The squishing sound made Paige want to vomit. Twostaves’ bellows of pain helped drown it out slightly though but offered no comfort.
“There,” Woodcarver said relieved, producing a piece of lead the size of Paige’s thumbnail. “Lucky for you, these bandits probably had no idea how to properly load one of these. You have a considerable amount of tissue keeping it from your main blood vessels.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” the giant asked, a mockingly insulted expression plastered onto his round face.
“You’ll figure it out,” the magician said dryly. “Hold still.”
A pale light began to shine under his palm. He pressed the glowing hand onto the hole, and Twostaves let out a cry of pain. Woodcarver pressed firmly for several seconds, then released. The hole was gone, save for a small red scar in the shape of a ring.
“It will be tender for a few days, so be careful.”
Twostaves stood up and tested his weight on the leg. He nodded and looked up at the magician.
“I’m much obliged, master magician.”
“It’s nothing,” the wizard waved off, turning to Paige. “And now for you, princess. Lay down on your back if you please.”
Paige did as he instructed, tenderly touching her ribs and wincing as a sliver of pain spread across her side. He pressed several spots on her waist and rib cage, asking for her to rate the pain.
“The good news is they aren't broken, just bruised.”
“Well, that information certainly makes it hurt less,” she muttered.
“Hold still.” He pulled out a small bottle from his satchel, pouring an ointment on his palm. He gestured for her to lift her shirt up. She hesitated, feeling slightly awkward and uncomfortable. But, knowing they didn’t have time to waste, she obliged the magician; he was a healer and apparently old enough to be her father if not her grandfather. The other boys turned around to lend her a bit of privacy, and Woodcarver quickly massaged the ointment into her ribs. It hurt for the first few moments but the pain began to ebb away slowly once the ointment was administered.
“Better?” Woodcarver asked.
“Much,” she replied.
“Splendid. Now what?” Duelmaster asked. “I hate to duel and dash, but we have to get to the city, and soon. These missing soldiers will cause a ruckus, surely.”
“Aye,” Dinendale agreed. “Let’s have a look at that what spoils are left.”
After taking the weapons off the men, Shaud and bandit alike, they dragged them off the path and near a large boulder. Most of them were easily disposed of, except for the poor driver, who needed to be hauled by four of the lads. They threw the bodies into a shallow ditch, tossing stones and branches over top to keep them hidden in case anyone passed.
Jesnake had calmed the terrified horses, which were a pair of beautiful chestnut mares with feathery trimmed manes and tails. He murmured soothing elvish words to them until they settled down enough for the group to be able to get in the wagon. Robert threw the tarp off the top of the goods piled in the back and began dumping the contents to be sorted.
It was a well-stocked supply wagon, even if it was just a foraging party headed for a tiny outpost. The weapons were mostly the standard army-issue scimitars. Dinendale readily took one he judged to be of decent quality, talking about missing the feel of a broadsword in his hands. Nevertheless he swung the curved blade around easily and resolved to make it work for the time being. The clothing was varied in size and, oddly enough, contained several dresses probably meant for a commander’s wife. Aside from the fresh salted pork, cabbages, and other assorted food provisions, nothing else appealed to anyone. Pots and pans would do them no good. Duelmaster did find a small sack in the back that he wanted, but he wouldn’t explain why.
“Okay, now what’s the plan?” Duelmaster asked, tying his prize to his backpack. Dinendale paused, studying the wagon and its remaining contents.
“Jesnake, cut the horses loose. We can’t take the wagon into Aschin. It will be recognized.”
“They’ll just run back to their stables,” he cautioned, unhitching one horse from the cart. Dinendale frowned.
“Well, the only other options are leave them tied up to the wolves, or ride them,” he said. “And I’m not sure if we have the capacity to keep them, do you?”
“I can think of worse hurdles ahead of us,” Jesnake replied bluntly.
“Agreed. We don’t know anything about Olivian’s situation as it stands. Fine, we keep the horses. Now, onto the more immediate issue, namely figuring out how to break the princess out of an impregnable fortress.”
“Oh, is that all?” Twostaves laughed, picking up one of the Shauden dresses and examining it curiously.
“Here is what I propose,” Woodcarver tossed out. “We go into the city and find out all we can, then use that information to formulate our escape plan.”
“That may be all well and good,” Jesnake said. “But how do we get this information without arousing suspicion? Some of us would stand out like a sore thumb in human cities.”
“Disguises for those of us that can pull them off,” Dinendale asserted, nodding to the chests of clothing in the wagon. He jumped up into the creaky wooden contraption and began to pull out articles of clothing, tossing them to his friends.
“Congrats, Duelmaster,” he said, tossing the dryad the white tunic and helmet of a Shauden soldier. “You’ve just been conscripted into his Majesty’s army.”
The dryad wrinkled his face in disgust, holding the attire at arm’s length.
“Robert, a rich merchant I think,” Dinendale said, tossing Robert a bright red tunic and maroon cloak. A yellow scarf accompanied these to be tied into a turban.
“Really?” Robert said dryly. He eyed Dinendale’s choice skeptically.
“I think it’ll look good on you,” Paige encouraged.
Robert scoffed. “Oh, please. I will own this role,” he bragged.
“Ah, what have we here? A captain’s uniform? Woodcarver, could you make use of this?” Dinendale asked tossing a golden gilded helmet to the wizard.
“This will be useful in getting information about the palace itself,” Woodcarver asserted. “One of you can be my escort. I’ll write us up some false Letters of Mark to help us sell our story.”
“I’ll volunteer for that,” Duelmaster said, raising his hand like a schoolboy in class.
“Din, look,” Robert said, holding up a hooded black robe. “One of these guys must have been a Raider. There’s a whole kit in this satchel.”
“What's a raider?” Paige asked.
Dinendale tossed a black, hooded robe to Jesnake, along with a long pole studded with brass tacks and a curved scimitar from the pile. “The Raiders are an elite group of rangers that fight for the Shahir’s army. They’re independent and travel as they please, for the most part.”
“No one will want to tangle with a Raider, not even the high-up officers.” Jesnake took long length of lack cloth and wound himself a turban low enough to cover his ears. “The Raiders have a strong reputation for cruelty.”
> “Well, when the only man you answer to is a ruthless tyrant, you tend to take more… aggressive liberties with the lives of those that stand in your way,” Woodcarver said.
“I can go as a peasant,” Dinendale said, “and Paige, you go with Robert.” He tossed her a dress of red, yellow and black material meant for the commander’s wife.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
Dinendale shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you get to be ‘his lady’ or something.”
