by Wil Ogden
PLAYING THE HERO
The solitude of the canyon always bothered Taliesion. As an entertainer, he preferred places where people gathered; more precisely he preferred places where people gathered to watch him. Traveling from inn to inn, Tali learned to pick the out-of-the-way places that would be less likely to have another bard competing for stage time. Having been a journeyman, he'd be forced to cede the stage to any master bard. Most of those out-of-the-way inns would have to deal with less of Taliesion. His mentor had graduated him, making him a master of his craft. The Inn at Dragon’s Tear would be the only backwater hovel Tali would ever play again.
Though he enjoyed the inn’s broiled black trout, he wouldn’t spend two days on the road from the next nearest village for that. He visited Dragon’s Tear twice a season to spend time with Lori, the most beautiful woman in the world.
He rounded the last bend in the canyon and brightened to see Lori waiting for him at the gates to the village. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the spear in her hands and her defensive stance. She relaxed her stance and shouted to him, “Tali!” Dropping the spear, she ran over and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She kissed him quickly then pulled him into a tight hug.
“Hi, Lori,” Tali gasped. “Who were you expecting?”
“Orrick.” Lori said.
“Orrick?” Tali had not heard the name before.
“He’s a cowardly leader of a small group of bandits who are trying to extort money from us. We refused and he attacked. Rob and Darryl both got cut pretty bad and Gus is dead. But we killed two of the bastards. Orrick saw them die and ordered a retreat.”
“You got lucky, it seems,” said Tali.
“I know.” Lori hopped down to stand before Tali. “I expect him to come back. He knows we are defenseless now. The gate is broken and without Gus we have no smith to fix the hinges.”
Peering past Lori, he saw the gate leaning against the fence; the iron hinges had been bent and torn from the wood. “Why couldn’t the bandits have shown up over the summer when the Inn is packed with nobles and their guards?”
“I said he was a coward,” Lori jested dryly. “I didn’t say he was an idiot. He wants the brandy among other things.”
“Brandy can’t be worth your lives.”
“The other things he wanted include me.”
“Bloody hell,” Tali screamed, suddenly feeling a need to defy the bandits. “Get Rob and Darryl down here. Together we will stop Orrick.”
“Rob has a broken leg and Darryl lost his right arm.” She pointed to her bicep, showing Tali where.
“How many bandits are there?” Tali asked, setting Lori down.
“There were a dozen,” Lori said. “Now there's two less.”
“But three men held them off, and killed two of them in the process?” Tali wondered how disorganized the bandits had to be to lose a fight despite having such numbers. Of the villagers, only Gus had had any formal training with weapons.
“Yes, but we don't have three men who can fight anymore,” Lori said. “We're a small village and most men head to the city when they come of age and come back here when all they have left to do in life is drink brandy. Of the women, I'm the only one strong enough to hold a weapon that doesn't have children to care for.”
Tali walked over and picked up the spear. It was a boar hunting spear, not designed for combat. “What makes you think the bandits are coming back today?”
“We can watch their camp from the ridge,” Lori pointed to a trail of smoke up the mountain. “We have a couple boys up there keeping watch. The smoke means the bandits are coming.”
His hand falling on the rapier at his hip, Tali knew what he had to do. The rapier was pretty but had been made to be functional. That day he would see how well it functioned. “Take the villagers up the western slope, hide in the trees.”
“I can fight by your side,” Lori said.
“I have a plan. Don't worry, I'll be fine.” It was a lie. Tali's plan wouldn't end well for him. “Stay up there, stay quiet, whatever becomes of me.” Tali kissed her goodbye.
“Stay with us.” Lori begged him.
“I’ll be fine.” Tali walked to where the canyon opened to the valley around the lake. He watched Lori gather a couple dozen villagers and herd them up the slopes.
His knuckles whitened as Taliesion continued to try to tighten his grip on his rapier. “I’m not meant for this!” Tali whispered to the sky. He wanted to scream but knew his voice would echo on the canyon walls. “I’m a minstrel, not a hero.”
He remembered the stories he told and how one person frequently held off hoards of evil in the name of justice and protecting the innocent. Those heroes had been extremely well trained warriors. Tali, on the other hand, had never trained beyond the pointers of occasional traveling companions. He could remember each of the three battles he had been in. He'd only survived by staying close to some of the people he told stories about. His blade had never drawn blood.
Katriene, the Battle-Queen of Norda, Prince Reginald or even the boastful lug Kuhr, or any of the other heroes in his stories would not have a problem defeating the dozen marauders coming up the canyon. Those heroes, at least the ones that were still alive, were days away and not aware that Tali stood alone. Even heroes had their last stands. Feeling pretty sure his first and last would be the same, Tali steeled his jaw and his fencing guard stance. He then remembered Katriene's advice to him, “Keep your knees loose. Footwork is everything.” He stepped out of his guard and walked around, flexing his knees.
He tried to come up with a better plan; one that didn't leave him dead at the end. Kuhr, if the late fools stories were to be believed, was once in a similar situation. He'd convinced half of an ambushing group of highwaymen to fight on his side, to be fair and even out the fight. He'd then convinced the remaining highwaymen to strip off their armor, so they could tell the sides apart. Tali liked the story, but didn't think it would work in any reality outside of Kuhr's mind.
The plan Tali had was the only one that he could think of that wouldn't require divine intervention. He hoped that before he died that he could wound one or two of the marauders seriously enough that they would not be able to stay in the valley long enough to find the villagers.
Footsteps echoed off the canyon walls. They were not marching but they were stepping in unison as people did when walking together. He listened for laughter but heard none. Odd, he thought. Whenever he had been with men heading into battle, someone would be joking or they would be singing; anything to distract them from the doom of battle. But, these marauders were silent. Tali pondered that until the marauders rounded the last bend in the canyon and came into sight.
They closed their sloppy formation when they saw him. Most of the men carried woodsmen axes but a couple had swords or spears. None of the marauders wore more than animal skins for armor. As they got closer, they slowed down.
Tali wondered if he would rather be wearing chain armor than his bright blue and yellow traveling leathers. It would only make his death more lingering, he decided. At least he would die quickly. With a deep breath, he held his sword out, pointing at the marauder leading the pack.
The leader stopped twenty feet from Taliesion, his followers clumping behind him, bumping into each other. Tali counted only a couple more than a handful, not the ten he'd been expecting.
“Who are you?” The marauder asked.
“I am Taliesion Willowgrove.” Tali said, keeping his voice low to mask the tremble of fear. “I’m here to stop you.”
The marauder turned to a larger man behind him, “The name sounds familiar. Who is he?”
The larger man nodded, “I’ve heard of him too, but I don’t know from where.”
Talision couldn’t help but smile. He knew they had probably heard of him because as a bard, he was not the most famous, but he was known in most cities where he traveled. He didn’t want to give the marauders time to figure it out. He wanted to use what intimidation he
could to his advantage. It would assure he did some damage before he died.
“Are you going to move closer so I can kill you or are you going to leave?” Tali asked. He kept his voice slow and even, not to be intimidating but to maintain control over his tone. He could feel tremors of terror in his throat and in every joint and muscle of his body. He strained to keep them from showing.
The leader, whom Tali assumed to be Orrick, stepped forward two steps then stopped. “Is this some kind of trap?” He looked up at the trees on the valley wall. “Are there archers?”
“I am alone,” Tali said. He dropped his left hand low and quickly gestured holding up two fingers then one then three. He wanted it to appear that he was hiding his hand but failing.
“Tam,” the leader said to the large man behind him. “Kill that.” He pointed at Tali and stepped aside for the larger man to pass. Tam approached slowly carrying a plain looking sword heavier but shorter than Tali’s rapier.
Tali tried to think of what moves Reginald would use to ensure that he won quickly. Reginald would charge forward and slam his shield into his opponent and hack their leg as they stumbled. Tali didn't have a shield or much body mass to put behind one. So far, the meeting with the thugs had been all bluff on his part. The large man approaching him seemed well muscled and fit. He was probably fast too. Knowing he'd only get one swing, Tali decided to maintain the strategy of ruses. He waited until the man was two steps away then leapt into a lunge. He held back his blade, however, and when Tam parried where Tali’s blade should have been, Tali thrust past the large man’s sword, cutting deep into the side of Tam’s throat. Tali hopped back as the big man fell.
“Who’s next?” Tali said, he was forced to growl between his teeth to keep from squeaking. The marauders were beginning to build some space between them. The rear ranks seemed a little farther away.
“Rog, get him.” The leader said, not looking back at his men.
“Can’t we just all charge him?” One of the marauders wielding a woodsman's axe asked.
“My orders are not open to debate.” The marauder leader yelled; his voice cracked finishing in a little bit of a whine.
Tali held up a hand all five fingers out. He then pulled in his thumb, then, making sure the marauders were watching, pulled in his forefinger. It was the only way he could think to keep the pressure going without engaging in combat.
“Forget this,” the leader said to his men. “Let’s get out of here, now!”
The rear marauders were already walking away when the rest started retreating. Swishing his rapier with a flick of his wrist, Tali stepped towards the leader.
With what Tali could only describe as a girlish whimper, Orrick dropped his sword and ran so fast that he passed every one of his men. They also dropped their weapons and matched their leader's pace.
Tali stopped, watching the men flee. As the last of them disappeared around the bend of the canyon, Tali fell to his knees and threw up.
About this story:
This one is just a little too world specific with too many Mealth references to stand on its own. Notice the Kuhr reference to the prior story, “Fortune Favors the Fool.”
People who haven’t read “The Nightstone” or “Of Maia’s Mist” should re-read this after reading those. It will it just a tad more fun.