by AC Cobble
“It is a balance, Rew,” she said, “and none of our choices are good ones. Do we spare these evil men and allow them to continue their ways? Do we ignore what is happening in this region to focus on a grander evil? I don’t know the answers to that. None of us do. I don’t know how we’ll get to Carff in reasonable time if we keep on walking, either. The questions of these bandits, of what we are doing on this journey, are too big for us, too much to consider. I and the children will leave that to you. But we can focus on what we can manage. Those men in the fortress are killers. We know because we saw their handiwork. They will keep killing until someone stops them. Who else is there but us? It’s the same logic as your grander plan, isn’t it? It’s the same reason we’d stand against the Dark Kind who murdered the other group.”
Nodding slowly, Rew grunted then agreed. “Very well. There are between fifty and one hundred men in that fortress, and we have to assume they are all experienced with their weapons and are willing to kill. The five us cannot assault the place and hope to survive. Instead, we’ve got to take them out in small groups or one by one.”
“Assassination,” said Zaine.
“Tactical warfare,” grumbled Rew. Shaking his head at the girl, he added, “The first thing we need to do is gather more intelligence. When do they leave, where do they go? How many can we catch alone, and are there chances to take out a few of them before the rest realize something is amiss?”
The others nodded and murmured assent.
Looking down at his crude scratchings in the dirt, Rew surmised, “They must have people who collect food and other goods for them. Unless they’re completely foolish, they’ll purchase that honestly from the villages around here. It’s only travelers on the highway that they’ll kill mercilessly. Staying here permanently, they’ll need the locals to support them with industry. Their supply runs are what we’ll target first.”
The bandits, it seemed, were nearly as cautious gathering provisions as they were returning from a raid, but moving enough food to feed so many men left signs, and Rew was easily able to locate the tracks from that activity. They followed the path to a tiny farmhouse halfway to the highway. The decrepit state of its gardens was enough for Rew to know that no isolated farmer called the place his home, but someone was there. He could see smoke curling up from the chimney, and in a yard in front of the house, several men were unloading a cart and transferring goods into packs.
“They take the wagons to the markets then transfer the goods here,” whispered Rew as they watched the activity from within a stand of elm trees. “That’s smart. Anyone following the wagon will find this farm, and I’m certain they’ll leave a person here who has a reasonable explanation for why they’re purchasing so much food. Then, from the farmhouse, the men can haul the goods on foot, leaving less of a trace. With warning from their watcher and fewer signs to follow, it’s an effective protection against any squadrons of soldiers locating the fortress.”
“There’s just three of them,” said Zaine, touching the ash of her bow nervously.
“There will be more,” said Rew. “Look at how much is left in the wagon. I’d guess there are half a dozen men around this farm somewhere.”
“Too many?” wondered Anne.
Rew frowned then shook his head. “Not too many if we mean to do this, but I suggest we wait until that wagon leaves, and we take the driver first. One man will be almost no risk to us, and we can use any information we get from him.”
“Torture?” asked Anne, her voice tight.
“We won’t stoop to that,” assured Rew. He paused and then added, “But if we take this man, we cannot hold him until the proper authorities arrive. It’s possible whoever is doing the supply runs was not involved in the murders of those people we found. It’s possible they’re simply an employee of other men. It’s unlikely, but they may not even know the nature of their employer. I will not cause pain to gain answers, but we cannot leave the man alive if we take him. Letting him go and continuing a quest against the fortress is not an option.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone working for this operation doesn’t know what’s going on,” growled Raif.
“Maybe, but we have to consider it,” said Rew. “Before we move, we have to be willing to do what is necessary. If we capture someone, we’re going to have to kill them or flee. You understand it will not be fair combat? It will be an execution.”
“Let’s capture them and see,” suggested Cinda. “If it turns out the wagon driver has nothing to do with any of it… We’ll decide then. If they know what they’re involved in, then we’ve already committed to doing what is necessary to stop it.”
“All right, then,” said Rew. “I recommend we take the opportunity of them unloading the wagon and move around to the other side of the farmhouse. We can follow the tracks the wagon left and pick a suitable spot for an ambush.”
When no one objected, he led them through the elms, skirting outside of visual distance of the farmhouse and then circling around it. They ran some risk of stumbling into a bandit between the farmhouse and the highway, but their greatest risk was being seen from the farmhouse itself.
An hour later, when they’d moved around to the other side, Rew easily picked up the ruts the wagon had left as it traversed the wild hills between the farmhouse and the highway. The party walked closer to the highway until they found a narrow stream that was spanned by several rough plank boards. New wood. The outlaws must have placed them there recently. They’d been working the region for a few months, surmised Rew, from the age of the bridge and the depth of the tracks to and from the highway. Along the bank of the stream was a thick tangle of bushes, and Rew looked at the others with an eyebrow raised. No one said anything. They were all taking his lead on this.
“All right,” said Rew. “Whoever is driving that wagon, we don’t want to kill them. Not yet, at least. We do want to stop them, though, and if they’ve a decent horse we can’t let them get mounted and riding. I suggest we stop them at the bridge. They’ll have nowhere to go from there, and we can surround them to prevent escape.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” acknowledged Raif.
Rew nodded at the big fighter, and they went to scout the bridge.
They were in luck. The bandits had felled more lumber than they needed, and a wide plank was sitting unused on the bank of the creek. With Raif’s help, Rew brought it up and wedged it onto the end of the bride. He placed it low where it would be nearly impossible to see from afar, but it was wide enough that the wagon wheels wouldn’t be able to bump over it. Rew then arranged their party strategically around the bridge. He placed Zaine two hundred paces back toward the farmhouse, in hiding, but where she was visible from the bridge. He put Raif on the farmhouse side of the bank, in the undergrowth beside the stream, and told Anne to wait with the fighter. He took Cinda, and they crossed the bridge and found their own hiding spots there.
The idea was simple. The wagon would roll onto the bridge and find the way was blocked, and then they’d all jump out. If something went wrong, or there were more bandits than they could handle, Zaine would signal Raif and Anne, who could relay the message to Rew and Cinda, who would try to remove the plank to let the wagon pass without being seen. It was simple, but simple was good.
As they waited, a cool breeze cut through the branches of the thicket around them. Rew tugged his cloak tight and thought about why Anne was in favor of this mad plan. Was it truly the same logic the king might have had, testing how far they would go, how bloody they would stain their hands? Rew had to admit he questioned whether the children would do it, and he wondered if the king had the same concerns about Rew’s commitment. It’d been a point of contention between the two of them in the past. Or maybe Anne was confident the children were willing but felt they needed an edge. The children did need seasoning if they were going to finish what they—he—wanted to accomplish. It was a necessary hardening, but it came at a high price.
It wasn’t that Rew thought they
couldn’t do it. He thought it likely, in fact, that they could at least thin out the bandits and escape with no injuries to their party. He had no intention of letting the children put themselves at more risk than they could handle. And it wasn’t that Rew thought the bandits didn’t deserve it. The atrocity on the road they’d witnessed confirmed these men were due justice, but just because the men deserved it did not make it any easier to dispense that justice. The headsman bore a heavy burden, and once they acted, the children would carry that the rest of their lives. Even for the right cause, killing was a weight on all good men.
The children had killed before, but only when their own lives were on the line. Now, while it might be righteous justice, they would kill with pre-meditated intent. That affected a man, or a woman, no matter how much they believed in their cause. They would be changed from the encounters coming over the next several days in ways that Rew hated to hang on them because he knew how it felt. There was a darkness that came with choosing to end a life, and it never left you.
But Anne had agreed.
He glanced at Cinda. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “You’re doing all of the work, aren’t you? I’m just planning to watch.”
He smirked and did not respond. There was truth to that, for now.
He’d turned back to watch for the wagon when Cinda added, “Raif did not understand the import of what the king said, what that encounter meant for us. My brother thinks it clever that Morden is looking for Kallie and not us. It hasn’t occurred to him, yet, that Vaisius Morden is personally interested in me. He hasn’t connected that the king wants our sister because the king is scared of what I can do, what you are leading me to do. It’s not just a frivolous flight you’re leading us on, is it? Part of me hoped it was.”
Rew grunted.
Whispering, Cinda continued, “It is all on me, isn’t it?”
“Not all.”
“But you cannot do it yourself. You do not have necromancy flowing through your blood as I. That is why ten years ago, you could not act, why you hid. That is why the princes need me, why you need me, and why the king fears me. It is on me because I am the one who has the potential. The only one. But I am not ready. That is why we must do this thing, why I must watch you and learn. Not about necromancy, but about death. If I am going to be worth the king’s fear, I must know death.”
Not looking at her, Rew responded, “I wish you did not have to carry this burden, lass, and I will do everything I can to ease it, but you’re right. It’s your talent that gives us a chance.”
“Why do you not tell me what is expected? Do you think it will frighten me?”
Reaching over, Rew placed a hand on Cinda’s shoulder. “Of course it will frighten you. It frightens me. I don’t think you’d turn from this path, though, no matter what I told you. No, the secrets I keep are for your protection. We face an enemy who is far more powerful than us, lass, and I know it is difficult to understand, but for now, you will be better off not knowing. Trust me in this. In time, you will know, but not yet.”
“I understand, I think. Seeing Grund used like that… I am finally beginning to understand the scope of what we attempt.”
“Good.”
“I’m still nervous, though. I am glad that you, and Anne, are with us.”
Pulling her close against his side, Rew assured her, “You’ve been through a lot, and there is more to come, but whatever happens, we are by your side. Through storm and fire, blood and tears, we are by your side.”
Cinda leaned against him, and they waited like that, his arm around her, both of their eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Half an hour later, Rew saw motion in the distance and then heard a man whistling tunelessly and clucking at the horse pulling his empty wagon. It bounced and rumbled across the uneven turf, and Rew saw no signals from Zaine or the others that there was more to worry about than the one man on the wagon.
He felt Cinda tense, and Rew understood why. The wagon driver was bare-headed with a shock of rough-shorn blond hair that bounced in time with the movement of the wagon. He wore a plain tunic and dark wool cloak. He had a kind face, round, rosy cheeks kissed by the cool wind, and would have looked at home in Falvar or anywhere else they had stopped on their journey. The wagon driver did not look like a bad man.
He appeared to be good man, in fact, a farmer driving a cart to market, except a real farmer would have been bringing in produce to the market and returning empty. This man in his empty wagon was on his way to buy provisions for a gang of murderous bandits. He looked like a simple tradesman, but he was not. At the very least, Rew decided, unless he was a particularly thick-headed man, the wagon driver had to know the people he was working for were not engaged in any honest enterprise.
Rew squeezed Cinda’s shoulder, and the girl remained quiet, watching the wagon approach. The man driving it was paying little attention to his surroundings, evidently having already become familiar with his route. He kept driving until his lead wheels hit the crude bridge. When the wagon bounced onto the rough boards of the bridge, the driver stood and hauled on the reins. His horse slowed to a stop, the wagon two-thirds of the way across.
“King’s Sake,” growled the man. He raised his voice and called, “I know you’re playing a trick on me. Is this about the dice game two nights back? Come out here, lads! If you’ve a problem with how I play, then face me like men about it.”
No one moved, and the man cursed. He jumped off his wagon to remove the plank from the bridge.
Rew sprang out of hiding, took several quick steps, and was in front of the man before he could cry out or even think to run. Raising a fist, Rew made as if to punch the man, but the bandit simply staggered back, cowering.
“Move the board,” said Rew to the others who’d all come out and were now converging around the wagon. To the man, he said, “Get in the back.”
The man stood still, shocked. Then, he rose to his full height and declared, “You’re making a terrible mistake, stranger.”
“Why is that?” asked Rew.
The man paused a breath and then answered, “Because I don’t have anything worth stealing. It’s an empty wagon, friend.”
“We’ll see. Get in the back.”
The man didn’t move until Rew put a hand on his longsword. The bandit clambered slowly into the wagon bed. Rew joined him, while Anne took a seat on the wagon bench. The children moved the plank out of the way then clambered beside Rew, across from their captive in the back.
Anne wasn’t an experienced wagon driver, but she knew the basics, and the horse was already familiar with the route it traveled. Anne shook the reins, and the beast started moving. They rumbled along for several minutes until Rew said, “Turn off here. Those trees up ahead.”
Wordlessly, Anne steered them off the familiar path and toward the trees. In the back of the cart, everyone was silent.
“Get out,” Rew told the man when Anne brought them to a stop.
“This is a terrible mistake, friend,” warned the bandit.
“So you’ve said,” remarked Rew. Casually, he leaned over and cuffed the man on the side of the head. Not to hurt him, just to get his attention. “Get out.”
The man, eyeing Rew balefully, climbed out of the wagon and stepped away before turning around. Rew jumped down after him then whipped up a hand, blocking the man’s wild swing as he ripped a long dagger from behind his back and swept it at the ranger. Rew gripped the man’s arm and twisted it, yanking the limb behind the outlaw’s back and forcing the bandit to his knees.
The bandit shrieked at the sudden pain, and his hand went limp. The dagger fell to the earth. Rew kicked it aside where Zaine picked it up. He roughly searched the man, finding no other weapons. To the others, Rew said, “Check the wagon. Look for hidden compartments beneath the boards. He’ll have coin for the supplies somewhere, and I’m curious what else.”
The man glared at him, peering back over his shoulder where Rew held his arm twisted in a painful lock.<
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“Who’s in the fortress? Bandits or something else?”
The man’s glare changed to a look of incredulity, and he laughed. “You think we’re bandits?”
Rew blinked. “Are you not?”
Grinning malevolently, the man crowed, “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll die for this, and you don’t even know why. King’s Sake, man, is that why you ambushed me? You think to steal our coin? You’re making the greatest mistake of your life, friend. If it wasn’t me you surprised, I’d find it quite funny.”
“Tell me why,” instructed Rew.
The man shook his head, chuckling harshly.
“We saw your handiwork on the highway,” said Rew, frowning slightly at how the man was reacting to his accusations. “You—or your companions—killed some merchants and their guards. You could have taken their merchandise and let them go, but you didn’t. You took your time. You enjoyed it.”
The man winked at Rew. “Wasn’t me, but I heard about it. Raised a glass to toast the lads for that one. Being around—ah, the lads needed a way to release some tension, you know? It’s been a long few months, and men like us hunger for action. I wish I could have been there.”
“So you admit you are killers and thieves,” snarled Cinda.
“Aye,” said the man. “I’m a killer. I’ve been a thief. A whole lot worse than that, too, girl. You don’t know what you’ve stumbled into, and you’d be best served to back away from it.” The man paused. “If I was a bandit, what’d you plan to do about it? You mentioned the fortress. You seen it yet? You five think you’re going to overrun the place? Pfah. Take my coin and be away. Truth, it is the best way this can end for all of us.”