Redemption of Thieves (Book 4)

by C. Greenwood

  I was among them.

  Terrac caught my eye and frowned at me for joining him, but he kept silent. I knew he couldn’t attempt to dissuade me from coming without injuring the courage of his men.

  Below us, I could see sticks and leaves littering a forest floor that looked much like this one. But it was ever darker on that side of the portal than this. I pushed my way to the front of the men ringing the glowing portal and signaled Dradac and the others of my circle back when they would have joined me. I willed them to obey me this once, and for a wonder, they did. I savored that victory, aware it could be my last. If I stepped through that portal, I had no solid expectation of returning to see any of them again.

  But I looked at Terrac, apparently fearless, as he prepared to descend through the glowing ring, and I knew I had no choice but to follow him.

  Why? The question came in the same breath. The Praetor had given no orders to me. Even the bow remained strangely silent. There was nothing forcing me to join the others on this fatal mission. Nothing save the fact my one-time friend was among those embarking on the suicidal quest. Common sense and every survival instinct I possessed cautioned me to pull out while I still could. But as I watched Terrac step into the portal, his head and shoulders disappearing into the darkness below, I knew I would give in to a pull stronger than either of these.

  I was next through the hole.

  * * *

  I fell a short distance, landing across Terrac’s legs, and we scrambled to one side, out of the way of the next fellow leaping down. It was even darker on this side of the portal than it had been in Dimming, and the treetops were so thick and dense overhead they blocked out even the occasional moonbeams that had dotted the canopy in that other forest. I knew it was Terrac who offered a hand to haul me to my feet only by the sense of him and the fact the next men were still scrambling through the portal behind us.

  Five. Six. I counted the dark figures dropping down through the window above and lost track of what happened to them after they collapsed together in a confused heap in the darkness. Only the creak and chink of armor, heavy breathing sounds and muffled curses could be heard as they scrambled to their feet told me they remained nearby. Even these odd sounds were comforting as they were the only assurance I had I wasn’t stranded alone in this new world. There was also the solid feel of Terrac beside me. I didn’t even pause to consider whether it was his actual physical form I felt or merely the sense of his presence. Either was all the reassurance I needed.

  I kept my eyes on the Fists dropping through the hole, and at the count of eleven, I noticed something was wrong. The eerie blue light of the glowing portal was fading. We had only an instant’s warning and then the portal began to warp and shrink even as the feet of the twelfth man appeared in the circle of light above.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “The portal’s closing!”

  Even as I screamed my warning, the window drew in on itself and closed, both the man and his feet disappearing. There was silence in the darkness around us as we all struggled to take in the fact we were now irrevocably trapped this side of the portal with no way to return. And there were only thirteen of us, not the hundred that had been planned.

  “W-what do you think happened to Beric?” one of the Fists ventured to ask of the man who hadn’t made it through.

  I shrugged before remembering no one could see the gesture in the dark.

  “I suspect he’s had his feet cut off or worse,” I said. “We can only guess what happens to anyone who finds himself stuck halfway through the portal.”

  There was a general murmur of uneasiness at that and I realized my mistake. To admit none of us knew anything about the operation of the portals was more disturbing than if the danger were a known one. Terrac must have realized it too, because he immediately set about getting their minds fixed on something more familiar.

  “Alright soldiers, gather round,” he directed, his low voice penetrating the darkness.

  The shifting of feet and snapping of twigs underfoot were the only indications his order was being obeyed, but he went on with as much confidence as if he could see us grouping around him. “You all know this wasn’t according to plan. There were meant to be more of us down here. A lot more.”

  Muttered agreement met his words but he didn’t pause to commiserate.

  “Now we find ourselves only a dozen in number, trapped miles into enemy territory with no provisions and nothing but the weapons we carry to defend ourselves. There can be no reinforcements—you all understand why—and there will probably be no way out for us when our mission here is complete.”

  There were unhappy sounds of agreement from the others.

  Terrac’s tone grew surprisingly sharp. “Well I ask you, so what? Should we sit and cower, waiting for passing savage scouts to find us and put an end to our plight? Or should we act like our lord’s men? Maybe passing through magic portals and entering enemy lands wasn’t something we expected when we got out of bed this morning…”

  There were soft chuckles at that.

  “But our orders remain clear, to strike at the enemy where they feel themselves safe, to harass them in whatever possible way. No part of that hinges on our being alive at the end of the day. The important thing is for the Skeltai to know we’re capable of striking at their very heart.”

  There arose a noise of agreement and I felt renewed purpose spreading through the group. I held my peace, but inwardly, I was thinking it would take more than duty and determination to see any of us through this. I remembered with a pang how Dradac had suggested Ada guide our party home at mission’s end and how I had just moments ago waved her away from the mouth of the portal when she would have followed me. It was I who had sunk our only hope of returning home. But there seemed no need to give voice to the fact. It was already too late. For now, I had to cast in my lot with a bunch of Fists, something I never thought to do, and hope by some miracle we would come through this.

  Terrac was organizing the men now. The first thing we had to do was ascertain where we were and the distance from the nearest Skeltai settlement. Both tasks seemed impossible in this inky blackness. But looking around me, I found my eyes were slowly adjusting to the nighttime world of the Black Forest. I could just make out the looming shapes of trees on all sides. The ground at my feet might as well have been a gaping hole for all I could see of it, but by shuffling my feet carefully, I avoided tripping over rocks and roots.

  My companions were going through a similar exploration. I heard thuds and muffled oaths as they stumbled into trees and collided with obstacles on the uneven earth. It seemed to me by the slope of the forest floor that we were on the downside of a gentle hill but that deduction didn’t help us much. Another cracking sound and a loud howl from somewhere to my right brought Terrac’s wrath down on the offender.

  “Quiet, you imbeciles! Do you want to alert every Skeltai within miles of our presence?”

  “No, sir, sorry, sir.”

  “I don’t want sorry. I want you to use your head. They could be anywhere. For all we know there’s an army of them surrounding us even now, laughing as they watch us stumble around like blind men.”

  This declaration sobered us all and I heard the whisper of more than one sword being drawn and held ready in case of just such a situation.

  We made our way down the hill for what I suspected was no sounder reason than it was easier traveling down than up in the gloom. The nearest Skeltai civilization was as likely to be one direction as another so we took the way easiest on our feet. There was a lot of grumbling as we walked. It turned out men outfitted in heavy leather and mail weren’t very nimble on their feet when stumbling half-blind down a hill. I wasn’t alone in losing my balance repeatedly and sliding a good distance before I could get my feet under me again.

  The third time this happened I skidded to a halt, rolling into a fallen log, and righted myself just in time to look up into the pale face of a Skeltai warrior.

  Chapter Five

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nbsp; I had no time to react or dodge the blow of the blunt-ended weapon that fell across my face in the next second. Pain exploded across my face and I heard a sickening, crunching sound I recognized as that of my nose breaking. I was vaguely aware of the cries of my companions in the background but their shouts grew distant as I sank to my knees, fighting to retain consciousness. I swiftly lost the struggle and plunged into a well of darkness.

  * * *

  When next I awoke, it was to a strange floating sensation and the feeling of all the blood rushing to my head. On second thought, I realized floating was too pleasant a term for it. I was being jounced roughly along with the world around me passing by in a confused, shadowy blur. I made out the shapes of boulders and trees on either side but they seemed to be standing on their heads. Then I realized it was I and not they who was upside down and being carried slung over someone’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It took me a moment to figure out how I had come to be in this posture.

  The face of the Skeltai looming up at me out of the darkness flashed before my eyes and I recalled the startled cries of my companions as they too were taken in the surprise attack. Recollection brought a surge of panic. I began wriggling feebly to right myself but my injury had sapped the strength out of me and I succeeded only in digging my captor’s hard shoulder deeper into my belly. The broad arm across the backs of my thighs that held me in my precarious position tightened a little.

  “Will you be still?” A low voice whispered from beneath me. “You’re only drawing their attention and I don’t think that can be good for either of us.”

  “Terrac?” I tried to lift my head to get a look at the man who carried me, but the only view I was afforded could have belonged to anybody. I tried to think beyond the weakness in my head and the pounding behind my eyeballs. My face felt numb except for a little trickle of wetness I suspected was blood running from my smashed nose.

  I asked, “Are you and the others all right? Are we prisoners or are we escaping?”

  “Sshhh…,” he hissed sharply. “I’m better off than you are but we can’t talk right now. The savages don’t like it. Just hold on and we’ll see what happens next.”

  I attempted to form some response but wasn’t sure if anything made it past my lips before the dizziness washed over me again and the darkness rose to drag me down.

  * * *

  Cool hands moved over me. Terrac’s, I thought, comforted. But when I opened my eyes, it was to look into a strange pair of expressionless, dark orbs peering out of a bloodless, white face. I lunged upright, nearly feinting again at the dizziness the motion sent rushing through my head.

  A wild look around revealed I was lying in some sort of shadowy, low-roofed hut. The only light was cast from the glow of a dying fire in a bed of stones built up in the center of the hut. This allowed me to see I was surrounded by a circle of savages, half-naked but for the animal hides and feathers they wore like decorations and the blood-red paint swirling in intricate designs over their bodies. The glow of the fading embers cast an eerie orange light across their features making them look like some nightmarish vision from another world.

  At my sudden stirring, some of them jumped back a little. Still others reached for spears or blunt weapons and there arose an unintelligible muttering among them, though none moved any farther to do me harm. Each had his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon me, and there was no question I had been and still was the object of whatever mysterious gathering was taking place here.

  I had no notion as to what they were planning for me or what fate had already befallen my companions. But neither question was my primary concern. My most immediate thought was of my bow and whether it was safe. Instinctively, I reached to check it was still in place, discovering as I did so my hands remained unbound. I couldn’t imagine why.

  The bow was no longer slung across my back.

  The disarmament came as no surprise but that didn’t prevent the jolt of helplessness I felt at finding it gone. This must have shown in my eyes because the nearest of my Skeltai captors, an aged man with silvery hair and a face so heavily lined with wrinkles I could scarcely discern the features behind them, leaned forward. There was something familiar about him but recognition eluded me. It was this man who had been bending over me when I woke. He looked into my eyes intently now and uttered some words I couldn’t understand in a voice that was cracked and reedy.

  I swallowed my fear and shook my head to show my lack of understanding.

  “Barra-banac. Barra-banac,” he repeated insistently, gesturing to the floor at my side.

  Where had I heard that phrase before? Something triggered my memory. It was the Skeltai name for my bow, wasn’t it? I followed the old man’s gestures and found the bow lying on the dirt floor just a finger’s breadth from my hand.

  Relief washed over me and I didn’t even attempt to hide my eagerness as I snatched the weapon up in my hands. My arrows were nowhere in sight but it didn’t matter. I felt more confident just for holding it. A ripple of murmurs passed through the other on-looking Skeltai, but the old one regarded me calmly. He made a sharp motion for silence and I gathered by the way his friends instantly obeyed him that he was a person of importance or authority.

  I wondered what it was they wanted with me, why each regarded me with an expression of mingled distrust and distaste, yet also with something more in their eyes. A glint of admiration, maybe bordering on respect. This made no sense. I drew in a breath and became aware of a tightness around my ribs.

  Looking down, I found a scrap of clean woven cloth wrapped tightly around my upper torso, spots of dried blood showing through. I had all but forgotten the graze I had taken during my earlier brush with the Skeltai war party back in Dimmingwood. Even the more recent blow I’d taken across the cheek and nose now seemed an eternity ago. Had my savage captors been the ones responsible for bandaging the wound? Something in the old one’s face told me it was so. I realized for the first time the sticky blood had also been wiped away from my nose and upper lip where I had taken the more recent blow across my face. Something was strange in all this.

  But before I could put any more thought to it, I was startled out of my confusion by a series of defiant shouts and strangled curses filtering in from outside. My heart leapt into my throat. Terrac.

  “Rot the lot of you! What are they doing to her?” he was shouting. “A plague take you all! If you’ve hurt her, I’ll slaughter every one of you filthy, corpse-skinned…”

  The old Skeltai before me made an impatient chopping motion with his hand and the tent immediately emptied as his followers dashed to do his bidding.

  “What a minute,” I cried, leaping to my feet. “Where are they going?”

  I was blocked from following them by a pair of remaining savages who seized hold of my arms and deposited me, not roughly but firmly, back on the floor with the old one. Outside the sounds of a brief struggle ensued and then Terrac’s shouts cut off abruptly.

  “What happened out there?” I demanded of the old Skeltai. “What did you tell your leeches to do to my friend?”

  I dove for the old man, but the two savages were upon me again, and this time they didn’t release their hold until my hands were bound firmly behind my back.

  An accented voice emerged from the shadows. “Forgive our crudeness. We wish to treat you with the respect the holder of the barra-banac deserves, but your… anger makes this difficult.”

  I turned toward the voice.

  I had counted only four savages remaining in the tent, but here was one whose presence had somehow escaped me. I started as the glow of the dying fire fell across his strong, youthful features, highlighting the blue streaks in his hair and the gracefully decorative scars etched across his torso. I knew this man. It took me a moment to place where I had seen him before and then I remembered. The last time we had met had been inside a crumbling hut in the middle of Dimmingwood. He had been bruised and bloodied, beaten into silence but never submission, by those under my command.
Only then a length of rope and a half dozen of my friends with sharp weapons had stood between us. That was no longer the case.

  He smiled, saying, “You recognize me. This is good.”

  He gestured toward the old man. “My grandfather understands that you and I are old friends and he has been good enough to give us this chance to face one another again.”

  The old man who appeared to be the leader here was his grandfather? In my worst dreams I had never imagined I would again face the Skeltai scout I had once tortured or that he might ever have the opportunity to even the score. My belly lurched as I wondered what cruel tricks these pale-skinned blood seekers were capable of devising to raise a prisoner’s screams. They probably knew methods of torture our more civilized society couldn’t even imagine. No wonder they hadn’t wanted me to die too quickly of my wounds.

  Crazed laughter tried to work its way up my throat and had to clamp my jaws down to hold it in. It was no good going out of my mind before they had even touched me.

  Some hint of that laughter must have touched my face because the Skeltai scout said, “Something amuses you?”

  “Only my situation,” I said. “I hadn’t thought to lay eyes on you again, savage, and yet fate has laid me at your very doorstep. And this time I am the one bound and helpless.” I hesitated at the memory, admitting, “Perhaps I deserve that. I don’t know.”

  He chose his words carefully and the way he continually paused, searching for the right one, showed me his grasp of my tongue, though very good, knew its limits. “The path of fate twists in circles no mortal can foresee,” he admitted. “But I do not share your surprise for I have always known we were destined to meet again. For many days and nights I dreamed only of exacting my revenge for the time you held me captive. You did not know it, but you stretched the limits of my endurance. You almost made me betray my people and for that shameful lapse of strength I could not forgive you. I need not forgive you still. For my grandfather has made me see the ultimate vengeance lies, not in breaking you as you would have broken me, but in striving toward the greater goal of my people. When we destroy this province of yours, that will be our ultimate victory. What are petty squabbles beside this final glory?”