Circle of Thieves: Legends of Dimmingwood

by C. Greenwood

  Rideon surveyed us with contempt. “Traitors,” he growled.

  “No, not traitors,” Dradac said. “Only good steady men, loyal to you and to each other. But if you mean to kill Ilan here, it seems you will have to slay half your band as well. And I don’t think a fight among ourselves is what any of us want. Not now. Not today of all days.”

  Rideon glowered, but I thought I also saw a glint of admiration in his eyes when he said, “Perhaps the Hound is cleverer than I thought. She’s managed to sway my own men against me, something I never thought possible.”

  Guilt swept over me, but I pushed it down deep. I owed my captain nothing. Not anymore.

  Dradac said, “None of us wants to see the band divided, but there is a simple solution, a way to dissolve the hostility and end everything peacefully. Let Ilan go her own way. Be one of us no more. She won’t be here to make further trouble for you, and you will have your band whole again.”

  I was stunned at what I was hearing. I had expected my friends to argue for my innocence, not my exile.

  Rideon too seemed briefly taken aback and looked closely at Dradac, as if suspecting him of some trick. “That is the sparing of her life all you want then?” he asked.

  “That and no repercussions against those who stand beside her today,” Dradac agreed.

  Rideon conferred quietly with a handful of his advisors. I could see they were urging him to take Dradac’s offer, but I knew our captain wouldn’t do so unless he was convinced within his own mind. Rideon was never one for listening to the words of others.

  When he returned his attention to us, he said coolly, “I’ve made my decision.”

  Sensing the tension among Dradac and the others, I stepped to the front of the crowd to face my fate. I wouldn’t let Rideon or anyone else see me hide behind my friends.

  “I have considered the Hound’s treacheries and they are many,” Rideon said. “I cannot allow her to continue sowing decision among the band. How could we ever trust her again? No, despite the long years she has spent as one of us, sentimentality must not sway me into jeopardizing the safety of the whole for the protection of one.”

  His gaze met mine, and it was as if we were the only two present. Did I detect a flicker of regret in his eyes or was I seeing only what I wished to see?

  He said, “From this day forward you will live out your life banished from the shadow of Dimmingwood. To set foot in this forest again will mean death for you. You’ve had difficulty following my orders in the past. I hope this one is clear enough for you?”

  My guts felt twisted in knots. This was happening too fast. That word banished reverberated through my head like the last ring of steel clashing against steel. Banished from Dimming, never again to walk beneath the green leaves, to smell the pine in the air, and hear the endless whisper of wind rustling through the treetops? There were other forests in the world but none of them were home. Where would I go? Would I ever see my friends again? If he had planned it, Rideon couldn’t have worked out a more painful punishment for me. I suspected he knew that very well.

  These thoughts played through my head in seconds, but I wouldn’t let my feelings show. I wouldn’t grant Rideon that pleasure.

  “I understand,” I said, forcing the words through stiff lips. Remembering I had a final duty as head of the circle, I added, “I don’t know what falsehoods you may have heard, but I swear on my life that there never existed any secret circle. In all I did, I acted entirely alone.”

  I held my breath and waited for Rideon to call my lie. He must have known I was only trying to protect my friends. But to my surprise, he made a show of accepting my story, saying, “Very well. You were the lone traitor and will be the only one to suffer for your deeds. It is as well. We need no further schism within our members.”

  He raised his voice to ensure everyone heard. “I’m willing to forget the names and faces that took the part of the traitor today, but only if they disperse immediately. All of you get back to your work. There is nothing else to be seen here. The source of the trouble is departing for good. ”

  There were curious stares from the handful of outlaws who dragged their feet, reluctant to leave without seeing the conclusion between Rideon and I. But soon they had all scattered and returned to their work. Ada and Dradac were the last to move away but leave they eventually did. They had no choice.

  Not until the last outlaw was out of earshot did Rideon grab the front of my jerkin to drag me closer. Once he had seemed to me like a big man, but I had grown so much in the past year I no longer had to look up at him.

  “Hear me, Hound,” he grated, his name for me sounding like an insult in a way it never had before. “I want you out of my woods immediately, and you had best hope never to look on my face again. And do not think to contact the members of your traitorous circle again either.”

  I must have blanched at the mentioning of the circle for he showed his teeth and said, “That’s right. I don’t believe a word of your story. Do you forget that nothing goes on within Dimming and I not know of it? But rest assured, Little Dog, your friends will not pay for your folly. I won’t allow my band to be split to pieces because of your disloyalty and deception. Now get out, so your foul influence can be forgotten, and I can begin the work of reunifying my men and cleaning up this mess you’ve brought down on our heads.”

  And then he released me and walked away, as if I was unworthy of further concern. I didn’t have the heart to respond to his insults or even to speak at all. His final words had struck home too deeply.

  He was right that I and I alone had been responsible for bringing the Skeltai attack down on us. My recklessness had cost us many good men. No, not us, I silently amended. There was no us any longer. From now on there was only me.

  Chapter Twelve

  The days after I left Dimmingwood were among the slowest and most uneventful of my life. Or maybe it only seemed that way because I passed them in misery. Not since the death of my mother all those years ago had I felt so bereft and alone. Even after Brig’s death and Terrac’s desertion, I’d had other events to occupy my mind and little time for grieving. I’d also had the company of brethren and the haven of Dimmingwood.

  Now I felt lost and aimless. I journeyed north for two days, leaving the shelter of Dimming behind me on the second day. It never occurred to me to attempt to avoid Rideon’s command and hide out in some little known part of the forest. There was no part of Dimming that lay beyond Rideon’s reach. I was among those who had helped him expand his territory, a thought that was bitter to me now.

  No, lingering was out of the question. But even after passing out of the forest, I couldn’t quite bear to leave its shadow. I settled in one of the little villages just edging the forest, not quite within Dimming’s boundaries, but a short distance from the flat lands. Here I could torment myself with glimpses into the world now forbidden me and feel myself at least close to home.

  The village was called Shadow’s End, which seemed fitting, and was made up of a few neat log cabins lined in a row around a tidy green. It reminded me vividly of Hammond’s Bend, but the folk here were less distrustful than typical woods folk. They were quiet, hardworking men and women who saw enough travelers passing by their doorsteps to have little curiosity about the business of strangers.

  I asked around for work and was eventually taken on by a widow who ran her late husband’s pig farm and needed a hand to help with chores and care for her livestock. She seemed disposed not to like me at first, maybe because she had a boy in mind for the job. But I did a day’s work for her to prove my ability, and she grudgingly conceded that I seemed strong enough and was no shirker of chores. Even then, I think she only took me on because I asked so little pay.

  She was a disagreeable shrew of a woman, Widow Hibbins, but I had to admit she was fair and never tried to go back on the terms we set from the beginning. By day, I fed and watered pigs and mucked out pens and was offered the meanest pickings from the butchered hogs in exchange fo
r my work. At night, I was permitted to sleep in a loft inside the barn, but the smell of the animals was so bad I preferred sleeping outdoors when the nights were clear enough.

  I had everything I needed to survive and was neither overworked nor ill used by my employer. It wasn’t a bad life, and I might have been content if it wasn’t for my longing toward Dimmingwood. Every day I wondered what was becoming of my friends. Had the outlaws abandoned Boulder’s Cradle and found a new home by now? Had the Skeltai struck again?

  At night I would lie awake into the late hours. I didn’t feel the flat grassy earth beneath me then or hear the shifting and grunting of my charges in their pens or smell the stench of them clinging to my clothing. Instead I closed my eyes and walked in Dimming, smelling again the fragrance of pine and elder and feeling the dry leaves crunch beneath my feet as the bare treetops swayed overhead. I wandered my familiar haunts along Dancing Creek and past Horse Head Rock, places that brought back so many memories I couldn’t shut them out.

  Questions rose before me, plaguing me with doubt. Had Dradac and the others continued their surveillance on the enemy and their reports to the Praetor? I suspected they hadn’t dared and maybe it was just as well. At least I wouldn’t have to fear for their safety any longer. I wished I’d had a chance to say goodbye to them all.

  Dradac had caught up to me shortly after my departure from the outlaw camp. Wordlessly, he had caught me in a rough embrace, and when it ended we stood apart awkwardly. Neither of us was in the habit of emotional demonstrations. When I could speak without disgracing myself by the tremor in my voice, I told him he shouldn’t have taken the risk of following me.

  He shook off my concerns, saying, “I took care that no one saw me leave. I couldn’t let you go without a word of farewell. Also, I brought you these.”

  He hefted a small canvas sack, and I recognized a number of my possessions peaking out the top. I had been forced out in such a hurry I hadn’t had time to collect my belongings. Naturally, Dradac would think of it.

  I forced a smile, but my thanks sounded stiff even to my ears, and I added, “I should keep moving. Farewell Dradac. Thank you for always being a friend to me. I wish you the best in life.”

  “Ilan, wait.”

  I halted in my tracks and reluctantly looked back. My friend had folded his arms across his chest and thinly veiled concern was etched across his features.

  “Where will you go?” he asked. “Have you any money or any friends in the city who might help you?”

  I evaded the questions. “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me. I’m grown now and accustomed to looking out for myself.”

  “Maybe in Dimmingwood with your friends at your back. But the outside world is a colder place. There’s little tree or shelter out there.”

  It struck me as amusing to have a roadside thief warning me of the dangers of the world and despite everything, I found myself smiling.

  Dradac glared. “This is no jest, Ilan. Brig would kill me if he could see me letting you be driven off like this.”

  “You’ve no choice. Come now. Wish me good luck and lose that frown.”

  He only shook his head. “Promise you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise,” I said because it was the only way to satisfy him.

  We embraced then and parted ways, and that was the last I saw of him in the weeks to come.

  But another friend showed up one rainy night not long after I had settled in at Shadow’s End. I was in the barn, sheltering from the storm, and at the moment when I heard the doors creak open and the tread of feet, I was sitting in the dark loft consuming the meager remains of a cold pork pie. Hibbins always put the trimmings and most undesirable parts of the pig into her pies. At first I assumed this was her now, coming into the barn to berate me for some task not properly completed. But the steps were soft and hesitant, where the widow had a heavy, confidant stride.

  Leaning over the loft’s edge, I made out a short, slender shadow slinking along the far wall. There was a practiced grace to the person’s stealthy movements, interrupted only by a slight limp where their left foot had been damaged in the Skeltai attack.

  “I’d thought you’d be walking straight again by now, Ada,” I called down and enjoyed seeing the other woman start at my voice descending from the shadows.

  She recovered quickly. “So did I, but Javen says it looks like I’ll be stuck with this little souvenir forever.”

  “Sorry to hear it. Well, come on up. The Widow isn’t likely to intrude on us in this weather, but there’s no sense in chancing it. There’s a ladder by the haystack.”

  She found it and was up in moments. I scooted across the moldy straw to make a space for her and offered the remains of my pork pie.

  “How did you find me?” I asked as she dipped her fingers into the greasy bowl.

  “A good sight easier than tracking a Skeltai scout. Frankly, I’m a little ashamed of you, Ilan. Despite your training, you left a trail like a wounded bear between here and camp. Disappointingly predictable too. I step out of the trees and the first thing my eye falls on is this little village huddling at the forest’s edge. Dradac thought you’d get further but not me. I knew you couldn’t tear yourself away. It didn’t take much questioning to get the locals to direct me to you. And so, here I am. I see you’ve made yourself a cozy place here.”

  Her gaze took in the clumsily boarded walls, through which cold fingers of wind and rain swept in, and the filthy pallet cast into the corner where I slept on rainy nights.

  She said, “I always wondered how far any of us would get if we gave up thieving. Good to see what we have to look forward to.”

  I glared. “I’ve done the best I could for myself. When the time comes, I’ll find a better place. I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life mucking out after someone else’s pigs.”

  “You’d rather have your own, I suppose?”

  “Maybe. I’m learning the business from the bottom up, and I think I’ve a natural hand at it.”

  She hesitated a moment to see if I were serious before we both broke into laughter. I needed this. It seemed ages since I’d laughed with a friend.

  “This is pathetic,” I admitted when our amusement died down. “I’ve been given a second chance to make something of my life, and what do I settle for? Pig farming. A shame Rideon isn’t here. He’d love this.”

  She sobered. “Rideon’s a fool. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he wanted us all to die. Did you know he still forbids us to strike back at the Skeltai? They roam the forest openly now and have attacked another small holding near the Dimming Road.”

  “Again?” I shot halfway to my feet before my head met the ceiling, and I remembered I was indoors. I hunched back down.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Ada said. “We decided the attacks couldn’t go unanswered, so some of us got together to reform the circle.”

  “Ada – ”

  “It would be different this time,” she rushed to explain. “We were careless before and took too many into our confidence. This time we’ll admit only those we are certain we can trust.”

  I hated to kill her enthusiasm, but I had to. “Forget the circle, Ada. It brought us nothing but trouble last time.”

  “It saved those villages,” she argued. “Who knows how many lives would have been lost if we hadn’t allied ourselves with the Praetor to counter the raids. Don’t you remember why we began this in the first place?”

  “What I remember is burying a dozen outlaws in the frozen ground only weeks ago and asking myself why? Why had I risked my brethren and given up my future, the respect of my captain, and all the other things that once mattered to me? It was all a wild whim, probably brought on by—”

  I stopped short, acutely aware of the bow propped in a corner of the loft where it had lain untouched since my coming here. I blamed it for my troubles, the deaths of my friends, and my current homeless state. I should never have allowed it to influence me with its subtle suggestions o
f war. Even now, I lacked the strength of purpose to dispose of the thing.

  Ada didn’t appear to notice the direction of my thoughts. “A whim? Is that what you call it? We willingly risked ourselves to defend our territory and our neighbors. It was the first opportunity many of us ever had to do something noble, something above ourselves. Many of our friends died gladly for this cause, and now you can sit there and call it nothing?”

  She shook her head in disbelief before rushing on with, “But let’s leave the dead out of this. Because those of us left alive are the ones who’ve got to make this decision. We’re the ones who’ve got to go on.”

  “We?” I asked, finally getting a word in.

  “We want you to lead us again,” she answered matter-of-factly. “That’s why the others sent me to talk to you. It was a unanimous decision. You’re the one who started us down this road, and it’s you who must lead us forward now.”

  Under a deluge of emotions, I rested my head in my hands. “Don’t do this to me, Ada. Don’t remind me that the responsibility for all those deaths was mine. If the rest of you are determined to go on with this foolishness, you’ll have to do it without me. I won’t be involved this time. I’m a pig farmer now, not an outlaw, and certainly not the plague-be-struck leader of the circle.”

  She stared at me and gradually her gaze hardened. I could see I’d finally managed to stir her temper. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe you aren’t who we thought you were. But I’ll tell you what you are and that’s afraid.”

  I feigned indifference, although the suggestion stung. “You’re right, I’m a coward. That’s what I am. I won’t stand against the Skeltai or Rideon or anyone else ever again because the thought makes my guts curdle and my feet tremble in my boots. Now I’m sure you’ve no desire to keep company with a coward, so there’s the door for you.”