The Call of Ancient Light

by Ben Wolf

  Stavian shrugged. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “We’re low on food. Could we trouble you for a good meal before we set out?” Calum asked. “We can offer you some sabertooth cat fangs in exchange for—”

  “Keep your cat fangs. We have no use for them here.” Stavian waved his hand. “We’re low on food as it is, but I’ll find something to fill your bellies. And I’ll even do one better: you can sleep in actual beds tonight and then set out in the morning. How about that?”

  Calum’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t slept in an actual bed since before his parents died.

  “That would be incredible,” Axel said.

  Stavian nodded. “So it shall be tonight. In the meantime, while I gather you some food, please make yourselves comfortable. My home is your home. If you require anything, just inquire of Reginia or me.”

  The next day, Calum could scarcely control his excitement. It heightened when, after a day of traversing hills and weaving through thickets of trees, the trio found the hideout more or less where Stavian’s map had placed it.

  The structure amounted to little more than an old wood-and-stone house, albeit a large one, in the center of a gorge nestled at the intersection of three rocky hills. Natural rock barriers kept it hidden from the outside world and almost totally inaccessible—except for a solitary path that swerved between two of the hills adjacent to the gorge and led up to its front door.

  Smoke rose from the stone chimney. The bandits were inside. Of that, Calum had no doubt. And that meant he’d be able to do some good for the people of Pike’s Garrison.

  “If we approach from that path, they will see us coming,” Magnus said. “We need to find another way inside.”

  “What other choices do we have?” Axel asked. “Those rock walls look pretty steep. I doubt we can get down there without killing ourselves in the process.”

  “We have rope, right?” Calum pulled off his pack. “We don’t have to scale the cliff without a safety system. Magnus could lower me down near the house with the rope. I can get in that way. I’ll cause a distraction, and then you two can come up the path, no problem. We’ll take them out together, bring back the villagers’ loot, and walk away with our reward.”

  Magnus glanced at Axel. “It sounds good in theory, but—”

  “But if we don’t get there in time, you could be fighting them alone.” Axel challenged, “You sure you’re up for that?”

  The idea of battling up to thirteen bandits on his own exhilarated Calum—and it also scared the daylights out of him. But it was a moot point, since he’d be careful enough to not attract all the bandits to him at once. Obviously.

  Even so, Axel had set him up, and Calum wasn’t about to back down.

  “I’m a better swordsman than you are, Axel.” Calum grinned.

  Axel scoffed. “We both know that’s not true.”

  Calum shrugged “I don’t know. I’ve been beating you pretty consistently when we spar.”

  Axel frowned. “I’ve been going easy on you. If we were fighting for real, you would’ve been dead a long, long time ago. I’m glad you feel so confident, though, even if it’s a false confidence.”

  That stirred Calum’s insides, and he smirked. “I’ll prove it to you right now, if you like.”

  “Bad idea.” Axel shook his head. “Getting inside that hideout will be a lot harder if you’re dead. We need three people to pull this off.”

  “If you say so.” Calum chuckled. “When you come in, bring me a bag for my share of the loot.”

  “Sounds like it could work.” Axel shrugged. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

  Calum rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to leave some of them alive for you.”

  They waited until nightfall to move into position. Both Magnus and Axel held the rope to which Calum clung, and they lowered him down into the gorge foot by foot.

  For a moment, it reminded Calum of Magnus’s descent into the Gronyx’s pit and his own subsequent fall. He shuddered and shook the memory away.

  When his feet touched the stony ground, he untied himself and tugged the rope three times to signal them. The rope zipped up the cliff and disappeared into the darkness.

  Calum was on his own now.

  He crouched down and surveyed the house. Maybe he could get in through a window on the first floor, or even on the second floor. Perhaps he’d find a rear entrance somewhere. No matter what he did, he’d do it in silence, and he’d avoid the pair of guards posted at the front door.

  Calum darted toward the house and hid behind one of the few tall coniferous trees that stood watch in the gorge. A few more steps and he stood with his back to the house beside a window. He leaned his head over for a look inside.

  Burning logs in the fireplace filled the room with yellow light. Gold, silver, and bronze treasures adorned the walls, but Calum didn’t see anyone in the room. He tugged on the window, but it didn’t budge. No sense breaking it. He’d have to find another way to get inside.

  Around the back of the house, he found an unlocked door. He pulled it open, his sword in hand, and peered inside.

  An iron stove sat in one corner next to a pile of wood, and a man with curly black hair stood at a counter with his back to Calum. He chopped some dark red meat with a big knife. Without hesitation, Calum stalked toward the man in silence with his sword ready.

  The man kept chopping, oblivious to Calum’s approach.

  Calum closed the distance in less than three seconds. A small part of him wanted to run the man through right there, but he couldn’t just stab the poor sap in his back, even if he was a treacherous bandit. Instead, he smacked the back of the man’s head with his sword’s pommel just like Magnus had shown him a few weeks earlier.

  The man’s knife clanked on the table, and he wilted to the floor, unconscious.

  Perfect. Calum moved on.

  He made his way through the halls without making a sound, and he didn’t encounter any other bandits. Laughter sounded from upstairs on the second floor, along with the occasional stomp or creak or the scraping of wooden chairs across the floor.

  Good. Better up there than down here. Hopefully they’d stay up there until he could get to the guards by the front door.

  Now how could he cause some sort of distraction?

  The next room he entered was the one he’d seen through the window—the one with the fireplace. Perhaps he could set something on fire again. It had worked in the woods outside the Rock Outpost.

  Once inside the room, he dodged the chairs and tables and headed straight for the fireplace. All of the logs were too hot for him to grab, but if he could find something small—perhaps a book or some parchment or something—then he could easily spread the fire.

  He found nothing of practical use in the fireplace room aside from the wooden furniture, but he couldn’t just break it up; it would make too much noise.

  The more he considered his plan, the less appealing it became. If he set the house on fire and it spread wildly enough to burn down, what would happen to the bandits’ stash? It might get destroyed in the process.

  No, fire wasn’t a great idea after all. Instead, he headed to the next door.

  When he opened it, he found himself staring up at a pair of confused hazel eyes above a big nose and a thick brown beard.

  Instinct and shock thrust Calum’s sword arm forward. The tip of the blade pierced the bandit’s left shoulder, and he yelped.

  His right fist plowed into Calum’s left cheek, and Calum staggered back, reminded of Burtis’s strikes.

  The bandit clenched his injured shoulder with his hand and leaned against the doorframe as blood oozed between his fingertips. He opened his mouth to holler, but Calum threw a haphazard punch at his neck.

  To his surprise, his fist connected, and the bandit’s scream caught in his throat. Wide-eyed and straining to breathe, the bandit clutched at his throat with his hand, no longer concerned with his wounded shoulder.

  Emboldened by his luck,
Calum swung his sword in a lethal arc. The bandit backed away and then quickly lurched at him with both hands outstretched, still wheezing and still bleeding. When Calum tried to return with a backswing, the bandit caught his arm in both hands and wrenched it the wrong way.

  Instead of yelling, Calum ground his teeth and tried to twist out of the bandit’s grip, but the bandit readjusted. He tripped Calum and shoved him to the floor, and his sword clattered away. The struggle didn’t last long—the bandit had a size advantage over Calum by at least a hundred pounds.

  Now on top of Calum, the bandit drew his hand back for a punch. At the last instant Calum contorted his body and avoided the blow, and the bandit punched the stone floor instead. A pitiful yelp rasped out of his throat, and he clutched his fist.

  Calum threw the best punch he could manage from such an awkward position, but he only managed to hit the bandit’s stomach bulge. It didn’t have any effect.

  The bandit leaned forward, clamped his fingers around Calum’s throat, and began to squeeze. Calum grabbed the bandit’s wrists and tried to pry his hands from his throat, but the bandit was too strong, and he weighed too much.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Calum saw the glint of the fire dancing across his sword blade. Could he reach it?

  He stretched his right arm out, but the handle lay just beyond his fingertips.

  “You’re gonna die, kid.” The bandit’s voice scraped out of his throat, and then he displayed a twisted yellow smile.

  Calum’s vision darkened. He threw a left hook at the bandit’s face and connected with his cheekbone. The bandit took the blow, but his grip didn’t loosen. Instead, he laughed.

  “Hit me as many times as you want. I’m not lettin’ go ’til you’re dead.”

  Calum groped for his sword again. His fingertips touched the end of the pommel, but he couldn’t quite get a grip. He tried pulling at the bandit’s hands again, but they didn’t yield, either.

  The bandit snickered. “Keep reachin’, kid.”

  Calum noticed the hilt of something protruding from a sheath on the bandit’s belt—a blade of some sort. Maybe a knife or a dagger. Instead of continuing to reach for his own sword, Calum grabbed the hilt and yanked it from its sheath.

  He was going out fast. He forced his weakening hand to solidify its grip, angled the blade toward the bandit, and stabbed with everything he had left.

  Shick.

  The bandit twitched, and the smirk on his face evaporated. His grip loosened, and he rolled off Calum onto the floor with the dagger plunged halfway in his side.

  Calum coughed and gasped and strained for air, but he knew the fight wasn’t over. He couldn’t rest yet. He scrambled over to the bandit on the floor and jammed the dagger deeper until it refused to go any farther. For good measure, he gave the hilt a sharp twist.

  With a gasp, the bandit twitched, then he went limp. His wide eyes narrowed and glazed over, and he stared at the ceiling with a vacant expression.

  Calum released the dagger and rolled onto his back again. He gulped in haggard breaths, and sweet air filled his lungs. His throat burned, but he was alive.

  He lay there, sucking in breath after glorious breath until he finally felt well enough to stand. He headed over to his sword and picked it up, but he left the dagger in the bandit’s body.

  After all, it had been his in the first place. He deserved to keep it.

  Calum realized he’d had no choice that time. It was either the bandit or him. He’d done what he had to do, just as Axel had done back at the Rock Outpost. Just as Magnus had said Calum would someday have to do.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about it just yet, but he knew he didn’t love the feeling. Still, he was alive. That counted for a lot.

  The floor creaked behind him. Calum whirled around, his sword ready, abandoning any lingering concerns he might’ve had over his first kill.

  Ten angry men, all with weapons in their hands, stood at the bottom of the staircase, glaring at him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One of the bandits, a lanky man with blond hair and a matching beard, pointed at Calum. “He just killed Norm!”

  The group started toward him. He had to do something, and fast.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Calum’s voice rasped against his sore throat. He put his left hand up, and to his surprise, they stopped their advance. Maybe he could stall them long enough for Axel and Magnus to get inside. “I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.”

  The lanky blond bandit tilted his head and glanced at a couple of his comrades. “Norm was in charge.”

  Calum bit his lip. Shoot. “Guess that means I’m in charge now.”

  “What?” A dark-skinned bandit with long fire-red dreadlocks stepped forward. He carried an axe, and when he spoke, an unusual accent tinged his words. “Not a chance. You kill Norm. Now we gonna kill you.”

  The group took another collective step toward him.

  Where were Axel and Magnus?

  “No, that means you’re gonna shut up and do what I say.” Calum stepped back and put up his hands again, this time including his sword, and the bandits halted again. “I earned it. I killed your leader, so now I’m your new boss. Don’t you know anything? That’s how it works.”

  Several of the bandits eyed each other, and then him. A shorter, fatter bandit shook his head with vigor. He held a sword that resembled a large meat cleaver. “No, that ain’t how it works. You don’t belong here. You killed Norm, so now you gosta die.”

  They started toward him again.

  Calum couldn’t stretch this much further. Axel and Magnus needed to hurry.

  He took several more steps back, but he was running out of room. “If Norm was in charge before, then I wanna talk to the man who’s in charge now.”

  The bandits stopped their advance and exchanged glances.

  More uncertainty. Perfect.

  “You mean you don’t know who’s in charge now?” Calum smirked. “Then I’m in charge.”

  The lanky blond one pointed his finger at Calum again. “You’re tryin’ to confuse us. You killed Norm, so we’re killin’ you.”

  “Oh, so you’re in charge, then?” Calum pointed back at him.

  “He ain’t in charge.” The short fat one stepped forward and eyed the lanky blonde bandit.

  Calum raised an eyebrow. These guys were almost as dumb as he’d hoped. “Then you are?”

  The short fat one cracked a smile. “Well, I s’pose—”

  “Not a chance. No way are you in charge, Goo.” The dark one with the red hair yanked him backward. “Not a chance.”

  Goo swatted his hand away. “Get yer hands off me, Kumba. I could lead this outfit, no probbum.”

  “Where?” Kumba chortled. “Into a bakery?”

  “Shaddap. You know I look like this ’cause I have a condition.”

  “Yeah.” The lanky blond one snickered. “Your condition is that you’re fat.”

  Goo turned toward him while the other bandits chuckled. “What’d you say to me?”

  “Must be deaf, too.” The lanky blond one leaned forward and repeated the words slowly. “I said you’re—”

  Goo jammed his sword into the lanky blond bandit’s gut before he could finish, and he dropped to the floor face-first. “Yeah? Well, this fat guy just killed you.”

  “Goo!” Kumba yanked him away from the lanky blond bandit. “What are you doing?”

  Goo spun around and slashed at Kumba next, but Kumba dodged the blow and cut him down with one powerful swing of his axe.

  Three down. Calum nodded toward Kumba. “Looks like you’re in charge.”

  Kumba’s eyes hardened. “You got dat right, boy. Now three of us are dead because of you. And now you gonna pay for it.”

  Calum opened his mouth to speak, but Kumba didn’t stop this time. He swung his axe at Calum’s head, and Calum ducked under the blow and rolled away. As soon as he recovered his footing, Calum parried a hack from a black-haired bandit.

&nbs
p; A roar sounded behind him. He dropped to the floor in time to dodge Kumba’s next attack, which crashed into the black-haired bandit instead. The blow nearly split the bandit’s head in two, and it definitely killed him.

  Four down, including Norm.

  Calum lunged at Kumba and struck his armored greave with his sword.

  Kumba grunted and pulled his leg back. Then he swung his axe straight down at Calum, who blocked the blow with his sword. The force of the strike knocked Calum backward, but it didn’t stop him from attempting a counterattack. He slashed at Kumba’s torso.

  The handle of Kumba’s axe absorbed the swing, and he responded with a powerful kick to Calum’s chest. Calum’s back slammed into the wall, and again the axe sliced toward Calum’s head, and again he ducked. The axe head stuck in the wall, and Calum found his opening. He drew his elbow back to run Kumba through.

  Five dow—

  He tried to stab, but something held his arm back. A bandit with vibrant green eyes and matted brown hair anchored his arm in place.

  Still only four down.

  Kumba cocked his arm, but Calum wrenched his body to the side and moved the green-eyed bandit’s head to where his had just been. Kumba’s punch thudded into the bandit’s face, and he released his grip on Calum amid a colorful cascade of profanity.

  Calum tried to swing his sword at the green-eyed bandit, but Kumba’s boot hit his shoulder and knocked him off-balance. Before Calum could recover, Kumba delivered a stunning punch to his cheek, and he dropped his sword.

  Another bandit kicked him in the gut, and Calum curled forward. The following blow to his back laid him out flat.

  The beating escalated with Calum on the floor as the bandits kicked his ribs and punched his arms and face. Every blow hurt; every blow further shriveled Calum’s body. It continued until Calum almost couldn’t feel it anymore, and then, all at once, it stopped.

  His eyes barely opened through the swelling, but Calum still saw what happened next. Kumba yanked his axe from the wall, strode over to him, and raised it above his head.

  This was it. Calum had been doing so well, too. Though images of Lumen trickled into his mind here at the end, the prevailing sense in his mind was disappointment, not failure.