Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  He took his own saddle, secured Scout and rode out of the stables, admiring the scenery for the first time as he did. They were clearly quite high up, with a number of peaks behind him and, what appeared to be, a cliff face some way off in front of him. It was still mid morning. As he squinted, the cliff appeared to be an old mine face. There was no one around. The peaks had a desolate and unwelcome feel to them as the wind whistled around the singular hill that formed the outside of the cave from which they had just emerged. It had quite steep sides, erupting from the ground out of sight of anyone except those working on the old stone face away in the distance. He presumed the smoke he could see must be from the village which the smugglers must call home. What did Bertram call it...Stendale, or something like that.

  Running away from the village, round behind the hill which housed the cave, Torr saw another, wider, path, with clear signs of wagon use. From Bertram’s brief description of where they were in relation to Buxtor, Torr suspected that would lead them back onto the main highway and would enable Perezia and her crew to return, victorious, south to Columb and then for passage onto Sha Haram.

  Torr sat on Scout, taking in the view, cupping his eyes a little in the bright sunlight. He could not have conceived where fate had led him this season gone, as he sat here now, with a sense of an adventures end but, also, what it had cost. If he had felt he had lost any of his innocence though, he had not had time to notice where or when. It was only in the brief moments, alone, like this, that he had time to contemplate what had happened to him this Highsun, and what he had become. He did not feel any different, physically, but knowledge alone was change in itself.

  He could still hear the rhythmic beat of battering ram against, reinforced, door as he cajoled Scout into life, towards the cave mouth.

  As he headed back towards the rest of his party, he could see, what he thought initially, were more smoke wisps coming from over the hill where the three remaining smugglers had fled. As he focused on the wisps, they became more numerous and solid. The wisps turned into men, maybe thirty or so, running over the hill and across the pasture, straight towards the cave and their stolen cargo. They all appeared armed although, from what he could see this far away and with the men waving their arms around, only with agricultural equipment. A swishing noise close to his left though suddenly suggested otherwise. At least two men were stood at the back of the charging men in the rough stance of an archer. Torr urged Scout on hurriedly, hoofs crashing on the cave mouth, competing with the sound of the battering ram, as he swerved into the cave, the sound of another arrow splintering on the rock face just behind him.

  “More of them.” He shouted in a panic. Now it was their turn to be surprised. He rode right through the cave and up to Bernhart, Perezia and Carodin, who had been sat patiently waiting for Perezia’s men to make progress with the door, which was stubbornly refusing to give way.

  “About thirty of them I reckon, all armed, after a fashion”. The men hammering the door had slowed their momentum, looking at Perezia for orders. The rest of the men had been scattered about the cave, securing the stolen goods for transit down to Columb.

  Carodin stood, unsheathed both his swords and started towards the mouth of the cave. Bernhart reached over and picked up Boom Stick, which had been lying next to him, whilst Torr dismounted and secured Scout’s bridle on one of the caravans nearest the far end of the cave, away from danger. He would be better off on foot. Besides, all he had was his bow and Victory’s Pain, neither of which would be of much use on horseback, at least, with Scout exposed, making the stallion and rider the most obvious target.

  Perezia’s brow furrowed at the news, before she quickly barked commands at her men, who gathered their weapons, reloaded their bows and made for the cave entrance. The crossbowmen took cover behind small rocky stalagmites in the floor of the cavern, the rest pushing two caravans that were nearest the entrance across the cave mouth, to try and funnel their attackers into smaller chokepoints that they could defend.

  They could hear the yells of the reinforcements as they rushed closer, arrows whistling into the cavern, striking the wagons that Perezia’s men were moving.

  Carodin was peering out from behind a stack of heavy oak chests. “Gods’, looks like the whole sodding village is in on this!”

  Bernhart strode up, confidently, through the middle of the cave, an arrow clattering to the floor near his feet. Torr had caught up with the master wizard having secured Scout. Bernhart looked angrier now than he had when they attacked the palisade.

  “In the name of the Champion, when will people learn that they are beaten, instead of throwing their lives away in needless bravado”. He turned to Torr, still seemingly unconcerned about the target he was presenting in the face of projectiles flying at them. “Right then Captain Skarsdale, I am afraid these stupid people will require a pyromantic display, probably from both of us, to dissuade them from their futile charge” Bernhart grabbed Torr’s hands and held them a few inches apart, fingers cupped. “Remember, focus is the key. Concentrate on keeping the flame in a ball before release. You aim to the left, I’ll aim to the right”.

  They took up position, each side of one of the wagons that the Sha Haram guard had put across the cave mouth, occasional arrow’s still coming their way, crossbow bolts fired in answer.

  Torr shut his eyes and focused his mind on a spark in his hands, growing slowly as he rolled his hands, as if to shape a fiery snowball. He opened his eyes, saw the ball of fire crackling in his hands. The Suthrasian crossbowman who had taken shelter behind the same part of the wagon backed away, giving Torr a wide berth as he moved behind the centre of the wagon, enabling the young wizard to step up to the edge of their cover, but partly out of fear and shock as well.

  Torr stepped up, still rolling his hands around the growing orb, and swung out from behind the wagon, giving himself only an instant to aim. He had been told that, if he tried keeping the flame cupped in his hands for too long, it would engulf him and all around. Only with experience would he be able to create larger conflagrations. He flung the stone sized ball of fire at the left flank of the charging villagers which arced, a little slowly, landing about fifty yards away at the leading edge of the two fastest smuggler’s leading the charge on that side. It fell to the ground, creating an explosion that belied the size of the projectile, knocking the two nearest men clean off their feet.

  As his own fireball made its way to his target, he saw another, larger, ball of flame, flying towards the smugglers. It was travelling much quicker than his own, to the point that it had a small tail, like a well aimed comet. It detonated at the same time as Torr’s own attempt, right at the feet of one attacker, who was instantly vaporised. The heat was fierce and Torr had to gasp for breath as Bernhart’s fireball consumed the oxygen around them. The percussive crash made Torr’s own attempt sound like a faint echo. Several other attackers were flung in the air in all directions, landing in smouldering, broken, heaps across the ground they were trying to cover.

  Still, the arrows kept coming at them. Torr could see perhaps five archers now, trying to keep them pinned down. Despite the decimation caused by Bernhart’s fireball, the next wave of attackers were still charging towards them and Torr thought he saw perhaps another half dozen figures coming over the top of the hill as well.

  “These fuckers don’t know when to give up do they”. Carodin had joined them behind the cover of the wagon, having just helped move another partially across the cave mouth as well.

  There was another roar to their right as Bernhart threw another ball of death, slightly across the open field, exploding in the middle of the second wave of charging men. Those that had survived the first blasts were almost upon them, but well within accurate crossbow range. There were also now only three gaps in the cave mouth for the rest of the smugglers to try and funnel through, in between the wagons. Perezia had positioned her men accordingly so, even when the remaining attackers had crossed the field, they were held with ease and cu
t down by the disciplined Suthrasian guard.

  Still though, they were being pinned down by the archers, two of whom had found their mark against Perezia’s men. Torr peered through a gap and saw that the last group of men were not running at them, but across the field, towards the stables. “They’re going for the horses” Torr shouted. He grabbed his own bow, pulled himself up over the wagon, making himself an instant target as the archers tried to react to him.

  If they get to the horses, we’re done for. We’ll never outrun them otherwise. Torr ran across the mouth of the cave, not only to try and head off the half dozen or so men, but also to present the archers with a harder target, running across their field of vision. He could hear shouts from behind him but did not turn to look. Arrows thumped into the ground around him, but never really close to worry him about the accuracy and skill of the remaining assailants.

  The smugglers who had been going for the stables saw him and started running towards Torr instead, confident of being able to cut down the young man running towards the stables on his own. Torr carried on running though, to ensure he was between the smugglers and the stables. With all that hay in there, the building would burn easily. Anger gripped him now as he stopped and turned to face the still charging men no more than fifteen yards away. They were armed with threshing flails, scythes and baling forks.

  Torr had enough time to take Victory’s Pain, which he had kept strapped to his back, and ignite it just as the smugglers reached him. The men stopped dead in their tracks. Torr took the initiative and waded into them, swinging upwards and smashing the nearest man square on the jaw. He heard the crack of bone as the man fell. All the smugglers were wearing their simple work clothes which ignited with ease.

  The remaining five smugglers were still transfixed with the sight of their comrade now rolling on the ground, charring the grass where he lay, when Torr struck the second down, smashing his staff against the side of the man’s skull.

  He stood, poised with his flaming weapon grasped firmly in both hands, waiting for the remaining four men to decide what they were going to do.

  “C’mon you inbred shits, think you can take on the outside world do you? Not as easy as fucking your own sister is it?” Torr could feel the adrenalin keeping his reflexes sharp, but he didn’t feel driven by the life threatening fear of his situation. His opponents could sense the young man’s confidence. His weapon and stance making it difficult for them to try their luck with a thrust or swipe from their own makeshift implement. Out of the corner of his eye as well, he saw three other figures running towards him. Carodin and two of Perezia’s men were running up, almost in the blind spot of his four remaining assailant’s, a trail of arrows following them now.

  Torr lunged at the next nearest, but they had the sense now to remain just out of reach, despite Torr’s best efforts to goad them into another rash move. Rather than try and parry the burning staff, they just took a step back.

  Torr moved forwards again, backing the men towards the fast approaching Carodin. One of the hilltop archers found another target as one of the men following Carodin, slumped to the floor, arrow embedded firmly in his back. By now, the four men facing Torr had seen Carodin approached. They made the mistake of all turning at the sound of Carodin’s shout, giving Torr the opportunity to bring Victory’s Pain down on the head of another smuggler, who fell to the floor, the skull crushing blow killing the man before his body hit the ground.

  Carodin had already thrust one of his swords into the belly of the man nearest him before the other two decided to flee. Torr, Carodin and the remaining Suthrasian gave chase, not only to ensure the men did not return, but also to try and seek cover from the archers, who appeared to have bought a small forest of arrows with them.

  The three of them hid behind the stable doors as their two remaining attackers disappeared, having dropped their weapons as they did and ran on out of sight. “If they were bright, they’d set fire to the stables easily enough from there” said Torr, slightly out of breath now, pointing in the direction of the hill crest, towards the archers.

  “Can’t you get them from here?” Carodin pointed to Torr’s bow, which was still strapped to his back.

  “Yeah, if I’d remembered my quiver”.

  “Oh, that’s sodding marvellous then isn’t it!”

  “Wait, hang on, I think there might have been some in the stables, near the tack room. Hang on here” Torr vaulted into the stables before the archers could draw a bead on him. The horses seemed agitated at the sound of the battle. He burst into the tack room and found two quivers full of arrows. They were quite light though, not really designed for his full draw military bow, but for the smaller bows the smugglers must be using. Explains why they can’t shoot for shit over that range, thought Torr as he snuck out the door at the far end of the stables, unseen by the men on the hilltop. From here he couldn’t see into the cave to see if any fighting was still raging there, but all the archers had decided to refocus their attention on the cave mouth, giving Torr time to draw his bow un-noticed. His first shot found its mark, the archer’s having no time to react to the faster speed of the arrow from Torr’s bow. The first man fell with one of their own arrows embedded deep in his arm. Before they knew where Torr was, he managed to get off another shot, this time hitting his target square in the face. The man’s neck snapped back with the force of the arrow, his body falling the other side of the hill crest. Torr was about to change position, back to where Carodin was, when he heard and felt a rumbling, coming from out of the ground. He could see the ground shaking where the three remaining archers stood, to the point they had difficulty standing, let alone aiming. He looked towards the cave mouth and saw the rest of Perezia’s men break cover and charge towards the last three smugglers on the hilltop.

  Suddenly, a monolith of rock erupted from the ground, directly under the feet of one of the archers, instantly engulfing him within the stone as it shot up over ten foot high. From this distance, Torr could just make out a hand and arm protruding from this new geological feature.

  Faced with this horrible fate and the rest of the Suthrasian’s now counter attacking, the two remaining archers fled.

  Torr and Carodin helped the Suthrasian who had come with the Tantes captain to carry the body of the other guard who, it turned out, was the only fatality from Captain Sala’s command, back to the cave, where his body was prepared for their return trip. Three others were wounded, but not seriously. Of the bandit’s, only the four who had run from the field had survived, plus the number now imprisoned in their own cells. Bernhart’s final stony display of Petramancy ensured they were not interrupted again as the Suthrasian’s finished loading the stolen goods onto the newest wagon’s, saddled up and prepared to move out. Whilst they were confident with their victory, there was clearly no point in hanging round.

  The door to Bertram’s office finally fell, Bernhart and Perezia quickly descending on the room in the search for clues or other evidence that could be used back in Sha Haram. Torr had helped saddle the horses, ready for them to move out, when he entered Bertram Wizel’s office, to find the wizard and Suthrasian captain going through some pieces of parchment they had found. Perezia seemed pleased with the find, but Bernhart’s expression gave nothing away about his own take on whatever clues they had uncovered about the source of the leaked caravan‘s, their route or cargo. If anything, Torr thought Bernhart seemed to lament the need for the bloodshed. Clearly he had hoped the first smuggler’s who fled would not return, given that he had instructed Torr not to shoot down the first one’s that ran, before they returned with reinforcement’s. Perhaps he did not like to be proved wrong. Now was not the time to pry though.

  Perezia was keen to move out straight away, in order to get to the relative safety of Columb as soon as she could.

  They followed the tracks that the smugglers appeared to have used to move their cargo’s, which led down quite a steep and winding track, much like the one that led to the bandit palisade, but withou
t the obstruction of the woods. Even Torr had to admit that their view, as they descended, was very pleasant, over the rolling, limestone, hills, as they looked down onto the highway that came out of a gorge below them. Bernhart was confident that they were coming out onto on the main road and that, as such, neither the Suthrasians or the three weald men would encounter any more trouble as they were many miles from Buxtor now, having come out on the far side of the valley from that town.

  Perezia embraced each of the three men as they said their goodbyes when they reached the main turnpike. The amount of other caravans hastening to get to their night’s rest bore out Bernhart’s advices that they were indeed on the main route into and out of Columb, to the south, and Bereofs town far to the north. Perezia’s embrace of Carodin was longer though before the men of Sha Haram and their guild captain set off, leaving the three Wealder’s to watch them depart, before they turned their own horses north, each of them in quiet contemplation of their deeds and actions.

  This certainly appeared to be the end of the bandits and their smuggling ring, Torr thought, but what of the Elheren gem? Bertram’s loosened tongue clearly suggested there was more to that, even if the smuggler was vague on specifics. Up until now he had been content to rely on Bernhart’s deductions and wisdom but now, something made Torr think that he might have to rely on his own intuition. Part of him hoped that, once this was over and they had parted from Perezia, that he could just return to Paegas Bay, to Home Manor. That he could simply slip the gem into a safe draw in his room and forget about it to the end of his days. A lurking, intangible, feeling though suggested otherwise.