Redemption of Thieves (Book 4)

by C. Greenwood

  Even I had to suppress a streak of admiration for the lord outfitted in the colors of blood and night and in armor more elaborate than that of his Fists. With his still, dark hair slicked back into a long tail and a great sword at his side, he looked much as he had the first time I saw him a dozen or more years ago. For an instant, I was transported back to that time, crouching among the rocks under the blazing sun and spying down on the man who would be Praetor one day. I shook my head to clear it of the image, and as the Praetor neared and the thin streaks of gray at his temples and shallow lines on his face became more apparent, it was easier to remind myself I was in a different time and place now.

  The cheers fell into respectful silence. Captain Delecarte shouted a command and the words had scarcely left his mouth before the Fists hurried to form themselves into ordered ranks. I had all I could do to guide my mount out of their way and attach myself to the side of their parade. I disrupted their pretty formation that way, but I had no desire to connect myself with them anymore than I must. If I was commanded to accompany them, I would, but I had no intention of appearing to be a part of the Praetor’s admiring hordes.

  As for the great man himself, he took his place at the head of the lines with Delecarte and his officers. I was taken by surprise to see Terrac joining them. I kept forgetting he was Under-Lieutenant. He looked oddly out of place among the older, more seasoned fighting men. Again I wondered why the Praetor had favored him with such a position. I settled back and got as comfortable as I could on the back of the fiendish animal beneath me, preparing for a long and unpleasant ride.

  * * *

  Twilight filtered through the overhead canopy of Dimmingwood and a chorus of frogs somewhere in the distance interrupted the stillness of approaching evening. I lay with my face against the cold earth and tried to ignore the many sticks and sharp rocks pressing into me. After hours in the saddle, every part of my body ached and I carried a row of teeth marks across the thigh of my leather breeches where Snapper had lived up to his name on the ride here, much to the amusement of my companions.

  Sucking in the crisp evening air tinged with the scent of earth and elder trees, I reminded myself I was on my home ground now. My enemies could mock me on theirs, but they had made equal fools of themselves since entering Dimmingwood, crashing through every tree and bramble bush in their path with enough noise to wake a graveyard. If not for me guiding them onto the proper paths, they would have ridden around in circles until morning and never come any closer to their destination.

  I shook my head and tried to imagine away the three Fist scouts sprawled to either side of me in the deep grass, spying down on the tiny community settled at the edge of Beaver Creek. I could’ve operated so much better with my own familiar circle of thieves at my back rather than a reconnaissance party made up of men I still thought of as enemies. A horse whickered softly somewhere in the distance, reminding me the Praetor and his cursed Delecarte, along with the main body of men, waited only a short distance away, despite my advice to the contrary. No wonder the sleepy little village below showed no sign of activity other than the motions of the oblivious woodsfolk going about their evening routines. It would be a miracle if the Skeltai showed themselves at all with our presence so ill-concealed.

  At a sudden movement behind me, I whirled, expecting to find Skeltai warriors charging on us. Instead, I saw one of the Fists who had been dispatched with me rolling around on the ground, wrestling with a large dark shadow in brown woods-garb. The bigger stranger seemed to have gotten the better of our man, but the other two Fists were advancing on the struggling pair, swords already half drawn. I shushed and waved them back, but they paid no heed to the commands, so I was forced to leap up and throw myself on top of the wrestlers, tumbling us all to the ground, to prevent the Fists slicing the newcomer’s head off. When I rolled to my feet and got a look at our attacker, who still had the unfortunate Fist’s head locked in his arms, I froze. My Fist companions didn’t. They rushed at the man and I scrambled to my feet to hold them back.

  “Wait! Wait!” I said. “This man is one of ours. He’s with me.”

  The Fists exchanged incredulous looks but at least I had given them pause. I took a firmer stance. “This man is one of those forest thieves you’ve no doubt heard of who work under my command. He’s a servant of the Praetor now and your lord will be highly displeased if any harm befell him.”

  I actually wasn’t at all sure of that statement. The Praetor had plainly said I was the only one of my circle exempt from the penalties of law. But I was betting no one would go running back just now to ask him. Slowly, reluctantly, the Fists sheathed their blades.

  Dradac’s teeth flashed white in the gathering darkness. “Much obliged to you fellows. I was just stepping over to check in with my superior here, but this one got a little overenthusiastic when I startled him.”

  Releasing his hold on the head of the Fist, he crawled to his feet. I seized his elbow the moment I could be confident he wasn’t about to be run through by the others and dragged him off to one side. With a cautious glance toward Beaver Creek to satisfy myself we had attracted no notice, I squatted in the grass, pulling him down beside me.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “I didn’t tell you to interfere.”

  He grinned. “Ah, but you didn’t tell me not to either, did you? I thought you could use some trustworthy company. Anyway the question wasn’t up to me. I couldn’t hold Ada and the others back.”

  “Others? You don’t mean to tell me there are more of the band out there?”

  I peered into the trees at his back.

  “Well, there’s only Ada and a couple new recruits, but I figured with so many Fists surrounding you, you’d be happy for any help at all.”

  I frowned. “Haven’t I told you the Praetor’s protection doesn’t extend to the rest of you? You shouldn’t have changed the plan without warning me.” His expression was unrepentant, and after a pause, I had to shrug. “The Praetor’s unpredictable, it’s true. For all I know he may be glad of the extra help. Then again, he might decide to haul you all back to Selbius and hang the lot of you. You’d be wise to get out of here while you can. At least go talk it over with the others.”

  But Dradac was stubborn. “We’ve talked it over and we’re staying.”

  I sighed. “Stay if you will then but keep to the shadows unless I call you. If the Skeltai attack here tonight, the Fists will get so stirred up I’m not sure they’ll know friend from foe.”

  He didn’t like it. “We didn’t come out here to duck around behind trees and watch the rest of you do the fighting.”

  “I won’t be fighting either,” I told him. “I’m just here as a guide and scout—a duty I’m making a poor job at the moment, thanks to you.”

  I cast another glance over my shoulder at the village in the distance.

  “When trouble starts, I’ll stand back with the rest of you and let the Fists do what they do best.”

  When he still hesitated, I gave him a little shove in the direction of the trees. “Go on, get out of here. Truth to tell, you’re in my way just now.”

  I said it kindly but it was true. I had a task at hand and he was a distraction.

  My friend complied without further argument and I returned to my post. Together the three Fists and I kept up our watch long into the evening. It wasn’t until the night was blacker than pitch, the inhabitants of the village below had turned into their beds, and the singing of the tree-frogs in the surrounding woods had faded that the Skeltai struck.

  Chapter Four

  One moment there was dead stillness in the little village below. The next, dark figures burst suddenly from the surrounding trees to swarm across the clearing. The Fist next to me started and cursed. We had seen no sign of scouts circling the village, no movement from within the shadows until the moment the Skeltai warriors appeared as if from nowhere. I was taken less by surprise than the other men in my company for I had the advantage of having seen the Skel
tai in action before. I had scarcely hoped for any warning before the attack commenced.

  I seized the nearest man by the elbow, never taking my eyes from the scene below. “Go back and alert the others. It’s time to move in.”

  I signaled another of the soldiers. “You go with him. Keep a sharp eye to the trees.”

  Both men followed my orders without hesitation and ducked into the shadows, leaving me alone with the remaining Fist. Together, we watched the horde of Skeltai swarm over the tiny village below.

  My muscles tensed as the enemy broke over the neat row of darkened cabins like a tidal wave, and I had to force myself to remain where I hid. If they were alerted to our presence now, they might retreat before the trap was sprung. But it was a hard thing to do as I listened to the Skeltai’s war cries and the splintering sounds of cabin doors being crashed open.

  The Fist crouched in the grass beside me half rose, hand on sword hilt, as the screams of the villagers filled the night. Reading his intent, I dove for him and hauled him back down. It was fortunate he didn’t resist because he was a burly fellow and I wouldn’t have had the strength to match him. We remained helpless witnesses to the nightmarish scene unfolding before us.

  I saw the destruction of the village, the innocent folk being driven half asleep from their beds. Those who attempted resistance were slaughtered in their tracks, and I found myself taken back to that night when the Skeltai had attacked Hammond’s Bend. I was there all over again, feeling the horror and outrage as I watched frightened men and women fleeing for the cover of the trees before being run down and killed before my eyes.

  A dark, subtle whisper chanted in the back of my mind now as it had done then, ever thirsty for blood. My bow seemed to burn through the cloth on my back, and almost unthinking, I slipped it off my shoulder. My fingers moved to take an arrow from my quiver. Realizing what I was doing, I hesitated a second. The Fist looked at me questioningly and I knew he too would run to join the fray at a nod from me. I stroked the white feather of the fletching and looked to the carnage below. It was all very well to speak coldly of necessary sacrifices while we secured our noose around the enemy, but witnessing the slaughter spreading out below me, all I could think was that these were my people. I hid like a coward in the distance while they were slaughtered to buy us time.

  Well I could buy time too.

  I signaled the Fist and together we rose from the grass and charged down the incline, howling to draw the Skeltai’s attention. Noticing our arrival, a number of their warriors turned away from the helpless villagers and advanced toward us. I paused at the foot of the hill long enough to fire several arrows into the nearest of them. My Fist companion ran on ahead of me, a battle-cry on his lips, sword raised to sweep off the head of the first Skeltai to fall in his path. I had to admire him. Not many men would have the courage to plunge headfirst and alone into an overwhelming sea of enemies, but that was exactly what he did. They swarmed over the lone Fist like starving ants and the last I saw of him was the flash of his blood-streaked blade, silvery beneath the moonlight, as they closed over him.

  They were too close for shooting now, and I had just time enough to replace my bow with a pair of knives before the first of them was upon me. He threatened me with a long spear and I held up my pitiful knives. I could image only one outcome from this match. I hadn’t expected to be caught up in the fighting or I would have armed myself appropriately.

  But suddenly, more shouts echoed through the night and I started, nearly making the fatal mistake of looking over my shoulder to see where they came from. Could Captain Delacarte and his men have come to our aid so soon?

  The Skeltai I faced took advantage of my hesitation and drove his spear at my side, grazing flesh as I dodged, a second too slow to avoid him.

  While I staggered to keep my feet under me, dropping one of my knives to clutch my burning side, an arrow whizzed through the air and took my opponent through the throat. Now I dared look back up the hill to see a handful of dark figures barreling down toward the fray. I recognized the bowman by his stance, although it was too dark to see faces over the distance. Rot it all! I had told Dradac to hold the others back! Why did no one listen to my orders unless it pleased him?

  But it might be just as well they had showed up. I certainly wasn’t making any headway toward a heroic rescue on my own. The first of my men to reach me tossed me his own blade in passing, taking up the spear of the fallen Skeltai, which he then wielded against the coming onslaught with surprising skill. The full wave of Skeltai warriors broke upon us then and I had my hands full defending myself against their long spears and the light throwing axes they directed with amazing accuracy.

  One of those axes spun toward me now. I braced for its impact but a careless combatant stepped between me and the spinning blade, taking the weapon in the back.

  We were vastly outnumbered, each of us fully focused on our own defense to survive one moment to the next. Any thought of aiding the villagers remained only that—a fleeting thought. I was vaguely aware of the carnage still taking place around me, of screaming villagers and cabins now ablaze. But all my attention was on blocking and counterstrokes and adapting to the unbalancing new concept of facing spearmen with a broadsword, something I’d had no training to do.

  I was fighting back-to-back with Dradac. Even in the midst of a melee in the dark, there was no mistaking the giant.

  “What was the idea?” I gasped breathlessly at him, knocking aside a spear plunging for my midsection. “I thought I told you to hang back in the trees.”

  “Change of plans,” he countered. “You didn’t say you were about to go running out and hold back the Skeltai single-handed.” He sounded as casual as if we were exchanging information over dinner instead of ringed in on all sides by an overwhelming flood of enemies.

  “Doesn’t matter what I decide to do.” I panted, evading another spear by a hairs breadth and slashing back at the enemy. “I’m the leader. You’re supposed to obey me.”

  No time to look but I could hear his grin. “I’ll apologize after I finish saving your hide.”

  “My hide?”

  For response, he launched a one-man assault into the middle of his enemies. They gave way before him, seemingly taken aback at the big man’s daring, and he disappeared from view.

  Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. The trumpeting scarcely penetrated my concentration, and when it did, I first thought it an enemy signal. But then my ears caught the thundering approach of an oncoming arm of cavalry. I risked a fleeting glance at the rise of the hill and caught a glimpse of shadowy horsed figures plunging over the crest and into view.

  It was about time the Fists showed up.

  The Skeltai warriors were now the ones outnumbered and must have realized it immediately. But they didn’t break and run immediately. Evidently determined to salvage what they could of the endeavor, they slowed their retreat enough to snatch up terrified villagers in singles and twos as they ran and drove them ahead of them into the trees.

  My first impulse was to run after them, but as the horsemen bore down on us, I was forced to discard the idea and stand aside, lest I be trampled by my own soldiers. Somewhere in the flood of cavalrymen streaming by, I caught a glimpse of the Praetor, his red cape billowing out behind him. I also saw Terrac near the head of the line.

  After holding to one side to let them pass, I took off on their heels in pursuit of the enemy. I dodged shadowy trees and brambles as they rose before me. The crashing and stamping sounds nearby told me the Fists on horseback were impeded by the density of the forest. They would eventually be forced to dismount and abandon their animals if they hoped to catch the retreating war party.

  As I ran, I followed the enemy by sound and sense. It was impossible to see anything of them in the brief flashes of moonlight slanting through the treetops. I stumbled on a fallen branch and caught myself, slumping against a thick tree to catch my breath. The sounds of the fleeing raiders were much closer now, and th
e main body of our men seemed to have fallen back in the distance, slowed by the burden of their horses and their unfamiliarity with the terrain. I found myself alone and in the lead.

  Ahead, a patch of starlight filtered through the leafy canopy, illuminating a small clearing. Here I made out a startling sight. Dozens of Skeltai warriors converged on the spot, driving their captives along before them. One by one, each disappeared into a ring of blue fire flaming in the forest floor. I had long known their method of travel but had only seen it in action once before. Amazed, I hung back in the shadows until I watched the last of the Skeltai warriors leap into the burning hole in the earth and disappear from view, carrying the hapless village prisoners with them.

  Dradac collided into me, Ada right behind him, and together, we approached the fiery ring with caution. The main body of the Praetor’s soldiers arrived. There was a general milling and confusion as no one was over eager to be the first to approach the magic portal.

  “Captain Delecarte.” I heard the Praetor raise his voice above the confusion. “Get your men through that portal before it closes.”

  No answer followed his order. One of the Fists said, “The captain’s not here, my lord. He was unhorsed during the fight.”

  The Praetor cursed and demanded, “Where’s my lieutenant then?”

  No one knew.

  “Allow me to go, my lord.”

  As the brave offer fell on my ears, I squeezed my eyes closed. Not now, priest boy. Make a hero of yourself some other day.

  But of course Terrac couldn’t hear my thoughts and he stepped confidently forward, signaling others to follow. They did so with obvious reluctance until about half our number stood gathered around the edge of the fiery hole, looking down into the darkness on the other side.