Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  “Well, well, well, what ‘ave we got here then lads eh”. All three men let out a deep chuckle. The would be merchant couldn’t mask his strong Delsk accent. From his small eyes and domed brow, Torr could also see why he may have been more willing than most to associate with gaestnips. In poor light, he could have passed for one.

  He took a couple of steps towards Perezia’s cell. The two henchman grasped their spears and, awkwardly, pointed them towards the Suthrasian’s.

  “Well, you’ve found us now Perazoya, or whatever the fuck your name is. What ya going t’do now eh? Come on then”, he held his arms up wide, “arrest me then, take me back to ya shitty little island”.

  On cue, the two men laughed. “What we gonna do with ‘em then boss?”

  The would be merchant paused for a moment, staring at Perezia.

  “Think, we’ll sell ‘em. Should get a good price from the Alrunian’s, for their fighting pits. Not the bitch though, at least, not yet. Not till I’ve finished with her”. From where he was stood, Torr couldn’t see into the other cell, but there were no exclamation’s, swearing, shouting or rattling of the bars from Perezia and her men. The smuggler turned to his henchmen. “Go get the irons. We’ll ship ‘em out tonight”.

  The two guards left.

  “Now then, who the fuck have we got here”. The man turned his attention to Bernhart and the two young men, taking a couple of steps towards their cell. The master wizard was now making a circular motion with his hand. Whatever he was waving around behind his back had a sweet pungent aroma, albeit not a particularly pleasant one. Stood partially behind Bernhart, it was leaving an acrid taste at the back of his throat that was doing nothing for his existing thirst.

  “Good day sir, I am Master Wizard Bernhart Rowe of Oaks Keep. These are my two companions, Captain’s Carodin Culos and Torr Skarsdale of Tantes and Peagas Bay respectively”.

  Carodin and Torr exchanged worried looks. Had the wizard lost his mind? What was he playing at now?

  “And who do we have the pleasure of addressing may I ask?” Their captor looked taken aback, before letting out a roaring laugh. He bowed low before trying to disguise his accent as best he could.

  “Well then, master wizard, it is Bertram Wizel who speaks to you now. Lord of Stendale”. He laughed again at his self imposed title. “So let’s try again then huh. Tell me who the fuck you really are, my lord” he made a show of bowing again, ”before I feed you to the dogs”.

  “I assure you, we are who I say we are. You clearly already know our purpose as you know who our comrades are”. Bernhart’s tone remained even as he nodded to Perezia’s cell. “I suspect that word reached you quickly from Buxtor exactly who it was that had arrived and that you had been half expecting as much since Guild Captain Sala and her men arrived in the port of Columb”.

  The man who had introduced himself as Bertram Wizel still had an amused expression on his mouth but Torr fancied he could see some doubt creeping into his eyes.

  “There is clearly no need for false pretences anymore so I readily confirm who we are as, I must admit, the thought of slavery does not appeal to me. I suspect, if you sent word, Oaks Keep would pay a handsome reward for my release, and those of my two compatriots here”.

  Bertram was starting to look troubled, as if he was trying to gauge the wizard and the truth of his words.

  “So what are you doing here with the Suthrasian scum then?”

  “Ahh, well, that is a slight story to tell, half of which I suspect you already know or, at least, have guessed at. Why don’t you take a seat Lord Wizel of Stendale, while I fill you in”. Bernhart waved with his hand that had held behind him in the direction of their captor. He wafted whatever he was holding at the man, before returning it out of Bertram’s sight behind his back again.

  The man was starting to look confused as he took two steps back, falling on his backside onto one of the barrels that had been at the edge of the corridor. Torr fancied he heard a slight sloshing noise coming from the barrel.

  “Now then, let us start with your gaestnip friends shall we. I suspect you have not heard from them recently have you?”

  “No”.

  “Oh, what a shame, what a shame. Well, I am afraid Mr Wizel, you shall not be hearing from them again. My companions and I have taken care of them”.

  Bertram stood up quickly, clumsily reaching for the hilt of his sword in his scabbard.

  “Sit down!” Bernhart shouted, taking the opportunity to waft his right hand through the bars again.

  Bertram sat down straight away.

  “Now then, how long did the gaestnips supply you with stolen goods for?”

  Bertrams voice had very little tone left. It looked to Torr as if there was some fight left in his eyes. He was desperate to ask the wizard what he was doing but feared any interjection may break Bernharts concentration.

  “Four years or so now”.

  “And tell me, Bertram, how this marvellous association came about will you?”

  “We took ‘em in. ‘Bout five years ago now. Found ‘em wandering near here. Said they’d been exiled from their tribe in The Balaks Crag Hills. Thought we could use ‘em, help us to move stuff like and protect us. So we let ’em use this cave. Hadn’t been any mining work here since we struck that bad seam. We took what they raided. Always been smuggling round these parts”.

  “Thank you Bertram, now, tell me, how did the gaestnips end up in the old civil war palisade just outside Bereofs Town?”

  “Came back from a raid one day ‘e did. Changed ‘e was. I could tell. Said ‘e’d been given a gift. Said ‘e ‘ad a destiny. Said ‘e was going to set ‘imself up as the biggest warlord round these parts and gather all gaestnips to him. Said ‘e needed a bigger base so we agreed, we did. ‘E’d raid from the palisade and leave the goods ‘idden nearby. Then we’d come and get’ em, bring ‘em back ‘ere. Send’ em out through Columb like we’ve always done”.

  “What was his gift Bertram?” Bernhart made no display of hiding the fact that he was waving whatever he had in his right hand now at the smuggler, whose eyes were now glazed and entirely unfocused, staring into the middle distance.

  “I dunno, ‘e never said and I never asked. ‘Bout two seasons later that we started to get tip off’s which caravan’s from Sha Haram to raid. I knew it was something to do with ‘is gift. ‘E never said, but I knew I did”.

  “Who was your contact at Sha Haram?” shouted Perezia’s voice.

  For a moment Bertram looked like his eyes were rolling into focus before Bernhart waved his right hand at the smuggler again. “Answer her question Bertram.”

  “I dunno, only worked through the Dock Master at Columb. ‘E knew all the routes into Sha Haram, not me, we just fenced the goods off”. Bertram had answered without moving his head at all towards Perezia.

  “Thank you Bertram” continued Bernhart, “you have been most helpful and now, just one other thing. Judging from the walls of this cave that you have mined into, we are not in Buxtor anymore are we? Are we in, what did you say your village was called, Stendale?”

  “Yes”,

  “And how far is that from Buxtor?”

  “Bout seven mile, tops, to the north of us”.

  “And our horses, where are they?”

  “In the stables outside. Was going to sell them too”. Torr breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you Bertram. It has been a pleasure and you really have been most helpful but, just one very last thing. Would you have the key to our cells on you by chance?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  T hey sat Bertram in the cell that Torr, Carodin and Bernhart had been in. The smuggler went in wilfully and sat peacefully on the straw covered floor. He still had an unfocused look in his eyes and content smile of ignorant bliss on his face.

  There had been a slight disagreement between Bernhart and Perezia about the fate of their captor. Perezia wanted to disembowel him there and then. Carodin almost had to intervene but her discipl
ine as Guild Captain, particularly in front of her own men, prevailed.

  Bernhart had to remind Perezia that her mandate to investigate the smuggling ring meant, where possible, bringing these people to justice, not mutilating them (although chances were, Bertram would hang for his crimes, whether in the Weald Courts or Sha Haram).

  The barrel that he had been sat on was indeed full of water but, with no ladles or cups, each man had to cup his hands in turn to try and refresh themselves in the short time they had before they were discovered. Bertram’s key was, by good fortune, a master key, so they were able to re-equip themselves fully before considering how best to escape. Clearly the smugglers had not contemplated that one of their new prisoners was not only able to charm his way out of their cells but, also, steal the secrets of their operation from their leader’s lips.

  “What is that stuff anyway?” Carodin was checking that his two short swords were intact and free from obstruction in their scabbards.

  “Mottleweed, young man. Quite common if you know where to look. Marvellous stuff isn’t it”.

  “Not when you’re standing behind it it’s not. Sodding stinks”.

  Torr had crept up the stairs to the solid oak door that separated them from their cells and the rest of the world.

  The walls of the short corridor and, indeed the store room turned cell itself, had been worked into a polished stone finish but the roof high above them confirmed the whole area had just been fashioned from a small cavern. The door was not locked. The two men who Bertram had instructed to go and get irons for their new would be slaves had clearly not considered the need to lock their boss in whilst they did so.

  The two henchmen had returned, but had made enough noise on their approach that all of the party had just enough time to hide either side of the corridor before the men made their way into the storeroom. They were quickly overpowered, silenced and thrown into one of the cells next to their still simple leader.

  Torr peered through the tiniest of gaps he dared open in the door at the top of the corridor, spying onto a hive of activity before him. There were perhaps twenty men or so, all loading up brand new wagons with, what he presumed was, the last lot of stolen goods to have made its way out of the palisade. None of the men appeared armoured. There were swords, spears and even a shield or two lying around but very few appeared to be carrying weapons. The smugglers lair was nothing more than an open cave, albeit wide enough that, from his vantage point, Torr could not see either wall to his left or right. The cave mouth was very wide and the whole operation appeared to be taking place in a space no more than seventy yards or so deep. Beyond the cave mouth just appeared to be pasture and field for quite some distance but the horizon ended in a steep uphill gradient. There was a path wide enough for a wagon right in the middle of his field of vision, out of the cave mouth and up the hill.

  Torr snuck back down and appraised the rest of his party of their opponents’ strength. Carodin and Perezia were confident they could overpower the smugglers quickly. Another dispute arose with Bernhart though about the treatment the smugglers should receive once they were defeated but it was clear Perezia and her men were in no mood to spare the blade.

  Inwardly, Torr agreed with Perezia. These inbred cave dwellers would have thought nothing of sparing their lives or showing any form of the Sunlord’s mercy on them had they remained captive. However, he accepted it was only by Bernhart’s ability that they were all free from their cells now anyway.

  It was agreed that anyone with a bow should be the first to burst out into the cave, to cover the rest of the troop who could then advance, secure their flanks and move up. Bernhart agreed he would add his weight to the fray. Fortunately, the wizard had brought Boom Stick with him. With a sudden degree of malicious intent, Torr was looking forward to putting Victory’s Pain and his new bow through their paces.

  Five of the Suthrasian’s crept through the door but still crouched down as they moved into the cave. There was a caravan just to their left that they were able to sneak behind and under.

  There was no warning from them, no battle cry, no charge, just the clink of crossbow mechanism as each man found a mark, the first smugglers dropping quickly.

  It was only when Perezia, Carodin and the rest of the Suthrasian guard entered the cave and charged that the smugglers at the far end heard any noise at all. The acoustics of the cave echoed their battle cry as well. Torr and Bernhart were the last to enter, the two wizards sweeping confidently into the room as the men wielding crossbows reloaded and Perezia, Carodin and the rest of the men spread out. The cave was actually as wide as it was long. A strong wind blew through the cavern, rattling the canvas on the covered wagons. Their surprise was absolute. Only two or three of the smugglers actually had a chance to pick up any weapons, let alone defend themselves before they were cut down. Torr had drawn his own bow, which had a far longer range than the short crossbows carried by the Suthrasians. He was able to pin down smugglers at the far end of the cave, who had to take cover behind creates and chests, allowing Perezia and Carodin to advance confidently right through the middle of the cave.

  Suddenly, there was a rush of noise and movement from their right. Three smugglers, who had managed to remain hidden in a caravan rushed at the Suthrasian’s from behind, having waited for them to advance so the smugglers could attack from the flank. They were armed with a short billhook, longsword and spear.

  There was a striking noise just to Torr’s right of metal on stone, followed instantly by a thunder clap that deafened Torr at the same time as a bolt of bright blue lighting shot out from the bottom of Boom Stick, striking one of the smugglers so hard in the chest that his neck snapped forward, legs still in a running pose, as he was thrown twenty feet in the air, at almost arrow speed, back into the cavern wall. Had Torr been able to hear anything, he would have heard the sickening crunch of bone before gravity took hold of the smugglers corpse again.

  The other two turned with a look of horror on their faces just in time to be cut down by deadly accurate bolts as the crossbowmen had reloaded, scanning the area in front of them for suitable targets.

  The remaining few that tried to fight were just scrappers, bare knuckle thugs, not disciplined fighters. They were dealt with easily enough with a blow to the face with sword hilt and haft. The fight was over before it had begun. Three smugglers had actually managed to flee the caves. Torr saw them leave and ran to the far end of the cave, preparing an arrow as he did.

  “Captain Skarsdale, leave them!” shouted Bernhart from behind him. Torr surveyed the open space in front of them. From the cave entrance, Torr could see a small square steeple to his right, just behind a small hilltop and some smoke rising. The three smugglers were running along a footpath that led over this rise. They were just about still in range of his bow.

  “Sir, I think they are heading towards a settlement, what if there are more of them?”

  Perezia had run up to the cave entrance as well, having organised her men to take care of their prisoners. Of the twenty smugglers in the cave, nine had surrendered without much of a fight, eight lay dead or wounded and three were now running for their lives. Perezia’s eyes narrowed before, she turned and ran back into the cave, where Bernhart was now examining another storeroom like door on the left hand side of the cavern.

  “I cannot be expected to ride, all the way to Columb, with bandits on our tail. We need to secure these goods and take them back with us. They are the property of Sha Haram’s merchants, and I was charged with putting an end to those behind this operation once and for all”.

  “I do not think three frightened villagers will cause you any trouble on your return trip Captain Sala or present a future problem. In fact, I believe more will be gained from opening up this door which, I suspect, is where the good master Wizel kept his counsel”.

  Perezia pushed the door with her sword tip but it was locked. She barked commands at two of her men, who found a roll of logs on one of the caravans that they were able to tur
n into an impromptu battering ram. The noise of splintering wood amplified noisily out of the cavern. The door appeared to be reinforced so Perezia’s men had to take it in turns to keep up the strength of their tirade, whilst the rest then herded their prisoners into the cells from which they escaped, barring the door at the end of the flight of steps with spears and then pushing empty caravans right up to the door as well.

  As Torr had watched the fleeing men out of sight he turned around to go back in, suddenly catching a feint scent of horse and straw. He walked out and around the left hand side of the cave entrance to be presented with quite a large stable building. It appeared newly built and the straw bales piled high and under cover of their own storeroom with a well tarred roof. The double doors had even been inlaid with stained glass, somewhat out of keeping with the desolate nature of the area in which it was located. Well smuggling appears to pay well then, Torr thought as he peeked in through the windows as best he could. There must have been thirty horse within, all seemingly quite content with plenty of room to each mount.

  He tried the door, which was not locked. Tentatively, he entered, in case any of the smugglers had run in here to hide but he could tell from the calmness of the horse that they had not been spooked by anyone trying to hide within. Half way down he could see Scout, who started to nod his head as soon as he saw Torr. He could hear the horse kicking his stable door as well, one of Scout’s signs of impatience. He opened the door and Scout trotted out whilst he went to see if there was any of their tack. He found all their riding gear in a separate room at the far end of the stables, along with plenty of other, expensive, looking riding equipment although a lot of it appeared very showy, the type of equipment bought by people with more money than sense.