by AC Cobble
Zaine slung her bow off her shoulder and, gritting her teeth, drew an arrow from her quiver.
“I’ll be back,” said Rew. He started down the creek, following a bend in the waterway.
Overhead, he could hear the whistle of arrows and shouted commands as their attackers closed the net. They needed to run, but with Zaine and Cinda both wounded, they couldn’t. If they had time for Anne to patch the girls up, maybe…
Cursing himself for not being more cautious, and confused at how he’d missed the bandits’ hiding places, Rew clambered up the bank of the creek, fifty paces down from the others and behind a thick hawthorn bush. It still had its dark green leaves, and they screened Rew from the dozen men who were stalking across the landscape. The bandits were dressed in a variety of camouflage, some of them sprouting branches and leaves, others merely in a motley of greens and browns. They all held bows, and they were all advancing on the place Anne and the children were hiding.
Rew grimaced. There would be no chance at stealth this time. There wasn’t enough cover away from the creek for even the King’s Ranger to hide, and he had no time. No time at all. Their attackers were one hundred paces from the creek and were steadily making their way closer, bows and arrows ready. Rew stepped out from behind the hawthorn and began his charge. His feet padded quietly on the grass, and he offered no war cry as he raised his longsword. He couldn’t hide, but he didn’t mean to give himself away, either.
He was within a dozen paces of the first man before he was seen. The man’s companions shouted, and by the time the bandit turned, Rew was there. Swinging his longsword in a wild, wheeling stroke, he decapitated the first man and kept running. The second attacker raised his bow but didn’t have time to loose an arrow before Rew skewered him.
Then, the bandits fought back, and several of them fired at Rew. The ranger dodged to the side, slapping one arrow away with his longsword and taking a painful gash on his arm from another he couldn’t avoid.
He reached a third man and stepped close, stabbing him and holding the body upright to shield himself from another arrow, but more arrows didn’t come, and Rew muttered a foul curse. His opponents were not fools. They were stepping back, spreading out, and waiting until they had a clean shot.
Rew flung the body of the bowman toward the others and sprinted, arrows raining around him, one slicing across his thigh, another glancing off the bracer on his arm when he raised it to block, the sharp head of the arrow digging a long scar across the leather-covered steel. A third arrow struck his shoulder, but Rew twisted as the arrowhead pierced his skin and swiped the shaft away. It spun from him, ripping his flesh and pulling a stream of red blood behind it. The wound was painful, but it wasn’t deep.
He reached another bandit and smashed the hilt of his longsword against the bowman’s skull, cracking it, but there were eight more, and the next closest was a dozen paces from him and already drawing his bowstring back to his ear. Rew didn’t have time to reach the bowman before he fired, and at that range, the man couldn’t miss.
An arrow thunked into the side of the bandit’s head, right where his ear was. The bandit blinked slowly for the last time and fell to the side, his own arrow flopping harmlessly a few paces in front of him.
Bellowing, Raif charged from where he and Zaine had just climbed the bank of the creek. Several of the bowmen turned toward the approaching fighter, but others did not, and Rew raced into their midst, taking advantage of the momentary shock to fell two more of them.
Three arrows smacked into Raif, and the fighter went down tumbling, dropping his greatsword and rolling to a stop.
Zaine released again, taking another of their opponents in the abdomen. Then, Rew finished him, crashing into the remaining attackers.
They dropped their bows, reaching for shortswords and daggers, but it was too late. Rew was close now, and these men were not skilled with their blades. One by one, Rew chopped them down until the last fell.
He spun, looking toward Raif, but the big fighter was rolling around, struggling in his armor. Finally, the boy got to his knees and, with some effort, stood. He wiped the blood from his face then winced and touched his shoulder where one of his pauldrons had been knocked askew. An arrow sprouted from his side, near his hip. Luckily, far away from any vital organs. Gingerly, the fighter touched it, but he didn’t have the nerve to try and free the missile from his body.
Raif touched his breastplate, where the steel was freshly dented, and rasped, “Blessed Mother. A little more force behind it, and that one would have been in my heart. Pfah, they slipped this one through on my side, though. I think the chainmail slowed it, but King’s Sake, the arrow still got through. I thought chainmail was strong enough to stop a shaft?”
Rew grunted. The ignorant invincibility of youth. “That armor saved your life today, lad, but never trust your life to it. Chain may blunt the force, but it can’t stop a well-placed arrow. And a good longbow in the hands of a skilled bowman will punch an arrow through solid plate.”
Raif was fussing with the shaft in his side, his hands already slick with blood, but he was standing steadily, so Rew imagined they had time to address that injury. The ranger looked to Zaine. She was pale-faced and kneeling on her uninjured leg. She nodded back to him before slumping onto her side, trying to keep the arrow in her leg from jarring against the ground.
“We’d best see to that,” called Rew, hurrying over and kneeling beside the girl. There was a lot of blood, but she hadn’t lost enough to kill her. Anne would be able to stop the bleeding and head off any infection, but the arrow had gone deep. It’d require more than a quick patch job, and Zaine wasn’t going to be walking far with the arrow in her leg.
“Twelve of them, waiting for us in ambush,” murmured Raif from behind where he was studying the bodies of their attackers and shifting painfully, trying to put pressure on the wound in his side. “We escaped un—well, not uninjured, but we escaped. They’ve written songs about less.”
“Aye, but how did they ambush us?” questioned Rew. “I saw nothing until that one man had stepped out of cover. If he hadn’t been overconfident…”
“But he was overconfident,” retorted Raif. “That’s all that matters.”
Rew grunted but did not respond. He didn’t think that was all that mattered. Then suddenly, Raif screamed, and Rew spun.
The big fighter had been launched into the air. He somersaulted twice before crashing down, his greatsword back where he’d been standing fifteen paces away, a swelling, boiling mound of earth rising beside it.
Rew stabbed the point of his longsword into the soil. He bellowed, “Begone!”
The earth, shifting and rumbling, stopped advancing on Raif and swirled, rocks grinding, specks of dirt showering down as the earth elemental turned to face Rew.
“Begone,” hissed the ranger again, shoving forth with the strength of his will, letting the command flow through the steel of his sword and into the soil. The earth stopped moving and then collapsed into a billowing cloud of dust.
Rew knelt, picked up Zaine’s bow and an arrow from her quiver, and then pulled the string back to his cheek. From within the cloud of dust, he heard a woman coughing, and when she stumbled clear of the mess, Rew let go. The arrow zipped and took the woman in the chest. She stared down, startled, and fell dead.
“What is going on up here?” barked Anne, climbing halfway out of the creek bed, staring in alarm at the dead woman and the dozen men lying beyond her.
“What just happened?” called Raif, still lying on his back, his hand gripped around the arrow shaft protruding from his side. “Did anyone see that? Blessed Mother, my entire body is going to be one giant bruise, and this arrow feels like it tore me in two. Pfah, I think something—”
“It was an earth elemental,” growled Rew. “The woman was a minor conjurer. She must have known enough to hide the ambush from me, but she barely had control over that elemental.”
“The woman?” asked Raif, struggling onto one elbo
w and groaning at the effort. “Who are you—oh. Where did she come from?”
“She was encased within the earth of her summoning,” explained Rew. “The elemental cradled her as it moved beneath the surface, and then, it burst out beneath your feet. When it dissipated, she was left behind.”
“King’s Sake,” barked Anne. “What is a conjurer doing out here in the middle of nowhere summoning earth elementals?”
Rew shook his head then nodded toward Zaine. “You’d best see to her, Anne. Where is Cinda?”
“She’s in the creek,” replied the empath, kneeling beside the thief. “I did what I could in such short time. Help her out of there, will you? She needs more of my attention, but I’d rather do it outside of the freezing water.”
Rew walked to the bank and hopped into the creek, his boots splashing for a second time in the cold current. Cinda was leaning against the far bank, her hand clutched over a bloody tear in her robes. The arrow was out of her.
Rew asked her, “You all right?”
“I think so,” she murmured. She tried to move and cried out. “I’m not, really. Does it matter?”
“Not much,” admitted Rew.
“I can’t feel my feet.”
“You’re going to feel this,” said Rew, stepping to help her. “Hold onto my shoulder, and… Anne can take your pain when we reach the top.”
Cinda screamed, and Rew grimaced through it all, but he got her to the top of the creek bank. Her wound had reopened, and blood was leaking down her front again. Anne nodded to a spot in the grass beside Zaine, and Rew settled Cinda there, helping the girl press on the injury with her hand.
Anne, already sweating in the cold air, pointed at the arrow in Zaine’s leg. “I’m going to need you to pull it out, Rew.”
Wincing, and after heartfelt apologies to Zaine, he complied. Anne took the pain from the thief as he yanked the steel head of the arrow out of the girl’s flesh. The empath’s labored breathing and trembling hands gave away how much it was costing her to shield Zaine from the agony. Cinda watched dolefully, her jaw clenched tight, but to her credit, uncomplaining about Anne working on Zaine first. Or perhaps, she was recalling her own discomfort from when the empath had pulled the arrow from her.
Rew grimaced, looking at the streamers of blood dangling from the bloody head of the arrow.
“Mine went all of the way through,” rasped Cinda through gritted teeth. “That’s good, I’m told.”
“Better than leaving this stuck inside of you,” replied Rew. He tossed aside the bloody arrow he’d pulled from Zaine.
They stayed there for an hour while Anne did what she could to speed the girls’ healing. Rew tended to his wounds and Raif’s. They’d both been banged up badly, and Raif required several dozen stitches. It wasn’t Rew’s best work, and the boy needed Anne’s attention if he was to avoid several nasty scars and days of recuperation, but that could wait until they made it to camp. It had to wait. An hour was the longest Rew was willing to stay. The bandits had set the ambush, and it wouldn’t be long before they came to see if it had worked.
“Chew this, and then chew this. Swallow the juice, but not the plant material,” Rew told Raif, handing him two pinches of herbs. “The first will lower the risk of infection. The second will numb the pain, but it will wear off by tomorrow. You’re going to be hurting and stiff as a fresh plank. Maybe Anne will have strength for empathy then.”
Rew stuffed a wad of the first herb into his mouth and, trying to ignore the bitter taste, ground the leaves between his teeth. He made a sour face, like the liquid was stinging his lips, and he swallowed quickly then spit out the masticated leaves.
“Why aren’t you taking the second one?” questioned Raif.
“It numbs the mind as well.”
“I’m fine, then,” said Raif, mimicking Rew and only gnawing off a hunk of the first twist of herbs.
Rew looked at the boy, thinking to argue, but then he put a hand on the back of the youth’s neck and squeezed it. “You can change your mind later if you need to. Help me get everyone back to the canyon. It’s still the best hiding place I’ve seen around here, and there’s enough cover we won’t be found immediately when they come looking.” He glanced down at the dead conjurer and frowned. “And I think they will come looking.”
9
The party limped and staggered back to the canyon where they’d made camp, and the two girls and Anne collapsed. Zaine and Cinda had marched on heroically, leaning heavily on the others for support, but both of them had taken grievous wounds, and even with Anne’s empathy, their bodies needed time to heal.
Raif slumped down on a boulder at the edge of the canyon, and Rew checked his wound. The stitches had held, but blood was leaking from the fighter’s side. Rew wrapped it with fresh bandages and instructed Raif to rest, adding, “Perhaps where you can see out into the forest.”
Raif grunted and nodded acknowledgement. He laid a hand on his greatsword. “Nothing will get to them without going through me.”
Rew patted the boy on the shoulder then looked across the camp to Anne. The empath nodded at him. Standing, Rew told Raif, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The fighter frowned, shifting as if he meant to stand and then thinking better of it. “You cannot assault that fortress alone, Ranger. Let me come with you.”
“You’re not going anywhere, lad,” said Rew, “but don’t worry. I don’t plan to attack, just to watch. If they’re coming this way, we’ll need all the head start we can get. Listen for me, and be ready to run.”
“Ranger…”
“Watch over your sister, Raif.”
Raif eyed Rew suspiciously. “You know which cords to tug.”
“I do. You’ll keep her safe, though, won’t you?”
Raif pulled his greatsword across his lap and leaned back against the rock he was sitting on. “I’ll watch as long as necessary, Ranger, but don’t take too long.”
Without comment, Rew checked his weapons and then strode out into the forest. It was late in the afternoon now, and as he walked, he stooped, snatching a handful of mushrooms and then later finding some nuts which he cracked open with his hands. He hadn’t eaten since early morning. He knew his body needed the fuel food would provide, but he was having trouble forcing himself to meet that need.
A conjurer sequestered in a remote fortress with a group of what Rew had assumed were bandits. They had attacked the merchants on the highway to rob them, Rew was sure of that, and the men he had killed over the last few days had the look of bandits, but what were they doing with a conjurer? Was she meant to fill out a burgeoning bandits’ court in a parody of the arcanists and spellcasters the titled nobles kept? It was possible, but hiring a conjurer of even poor talent was an expensive proposition, and anyone with such coin shouldn’t have risked discovery by targeting the merchants they’d found dead near the highway. The bandits who would engage in attacks such as that would flee the area once they’d done their work. For a group planning to stay in the region, it spoke of desperation, or something else that Rew couldn’t fathom.
It was all related to the king’s test, that much Rew could guess, but why would Vaisius Morden give a fig about some warlord ensconced in a far-off abandoned fortress? Unfortunately, the answer to that question, Rew suspected, would bring him no comfort.
The ranger scowled. The woman had summoned an earth elemental. Her hold had been tenuous, and he’d easily broken her connection by thrusting forward his own anchor to the world in between her and the summoning, but calling an elemental was not the feat of a novice. The woman’s blood was mixed with that of nobility, and she would have spent years studying beneath a tutor to have learned such magic.
Why would a woman who had the talent to summon a dangerous creature like an elemental be out here? For someone with her ability, she could make wagon-loads of coin or even earn herself a landholding during the Investiture. It was in the big cities, near the princes and the nobles closest to them, where the opp
ortunity lay. Yet there she’d been, nowhere near anything. She was working with bandits, so it wasn’t a moral qualm that was holding her back.
Striding through the forest, Rew was alert, but his thoughts were in turmoil. When he reached the edge of the forest where they’d spied on the fortress previously, his thoughts still swirled like a child on an icy pond, unable to find his footing, unable to keep a direction. He walked carefully before coming within sight of the outlaw’s hideout, and when he did, he peered cautiously through the branches and leaves that hid him.
Atop the walls of the place, he saw they maintained a heavy guard but no more than they had that morning. The bandits didn’t yet realize their ambush had failed. The gate was shut tight, and from what Rew could tell, the outposts around the fortress still contained the dead men he’d slain the night before. He frowned. They hadn’t collected their dead?
There was no honor amongst thieves, but that was particularly cold-hearted. Certainly the dead men had a few friends in the band who would have ventured out to recover the bodies? Rew watched and waited then became worried that there wasn’t more concern evident around the fortress. Whoever was leading the group had sent out a dozen assassins to ambush Rew and the others, and those dozen men had failed to return. A spellcaster, for King’s Sake, had failed to return! An outlaw band should be up in arms at such a loss. All of them ought to be pouring out like a kicked anthill preparing to fight or to flee, or else hunkering down with every man on the walls expecting an imminent attack. But as the day passed, and the sun sank toward the horizon, there was no motion in or out of the fortress. Rew could see the regular movement of men on watch, but that was it.
An hour before sunset, finally, he saw something. A lone man came trotting toward the fortress from the direction of the farmhouse. Rew held up his spyglass and saw the man was attired similarly to the other bandits they’d confronted, a forester who could have fit in well amongst any of the small villages nearby. Rew turned the glass toward the fortress and observed the men there. They looked agitated, several turning to call down to people inside the walls. A rope was thrown over the edge, and the lone man scrambled up and went into the interior.