The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2)

by Scott Michael Decker

  “Yes, Lord River, please forgive me.” The sentry thumped his head to the stone again. Turning around on hands and knees, he began to descend the stairs, headfirst.

  Raging River helped him out with a foot to the buttocks. When the tangle and tumble of sentry and silk and sword reached the base of the stairs, the retainer knew instantly that—

  “He's dead, Lord River.” The other sentry looked up from beside the body, her hand on the carotid artery.

  “A pity.” Raging River reflected that he was little different from his liege lord. He felt the same frustrations but simply expressed them in other ways. The foot had been excessive, he knew.

  Suddenly she stood and bowed to someone approaching her in the Lair. The retainer couldn't see who it was from the top of the stairs. “One moment, Lord.” She looked up the stairs. “The Lord Leaping Elk to see the Lord General Scowling Tiger.”

  Raging River glanced at his liege lord.

  Scowling Tiger had already armed himself with one of the swords the dead sentry had brought. “What the Infinite does he want?” Scowling Tiger muttered. “Take him to conference room number two while I clean myself up, eh?”

  “Yes, Lord.” The retainer secured the other sword to his side. Bowing, he descended the stairs.

  * * *

  Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper? the bandit general wondered, closing his eyes and sighing. Shivering in the wind, he waited until the Lair was clear. Descending the stairs, he turned toward the door behind the dais, entering his private suite high inside the Tiger Fortress. His headservant greeted him, looked him over, and immediately ordered a bath and a change of clothes. Scowling Tiger tore off the sweaty, bloody rags and stepped toward the excretory with only sword in hand. There a servant prepared to bathe him.

  The soap stung the tiny cuts, which he'd forgotten. He mended his nicks with his trace healing talent. The servant doused him to rinse off the soap. The bandit general stepped into water, holding sword above head. The bath was tepid. The pyrokinetic servant had had too little time to warm the water properly. Quickly, he rose from the water and presented himself, sword still in hand.

  A servant began to dry him. Another brought loincloth, moccasins, and robe, helping him dress. Stripes of white, tan and black rippled the fabric of the robe. Another combed, dried, styled his long black hair, gray peppering his glossy tresses.

  He slid the sheathed sword into his sash and cinched it. Then he checked his appearance in the mirror. “You still make the wenches faint with their legs open, eh?” he said to his reflection. Leaving the excretory, he stepped to the nursery to check on his daughter.

  The black-haired, eighteen-month-old infant slept soundly. The tiger was absent. “Where's the animal?” he asked the guard standing in the shadows.

  The wet nurse answered instead. “The animal left about ten minutes ago, Lord Tiger, insisted I let her out into the fortress.” With a mother's instincts, she was probably better at protecting his daughter than the guard.

  “Oh.” Odd, Scowling Tiger thought. Nodding to her, he left his suite.

  At the door to conference room number two waited the tiger, who whined as he approached. Scratching her jowls, Scowling Tiger opened the door. The tiger dashed inside before he could stop her.

  Raging River and Leaping Elk looked surprised. The animal had preceded the bandit general as if she belonged to him.

  “Lord River, take her back to the nursery, eh?” Scowling Tiger stepped to the cushion opposite the negroid bandit.

  “Yes, Lord.” Bowing to his commander, the retainer stepped toward the animal. “C'mon, girl.”

  'No!' rang in their minds. The three men glanced askance at the tiger, then looked at each other.

  'The girl wishes to be here,' sent another voice, this one pitched lower than the first.

  “She's too young!” Scowling Tiger protested.

  'When will I be old enough, Father?' the higher-pitched voice pleaded in their minds. 'When will the time be right for me to learn about my heritage?'

  The bandit general muttered an imprecation, then considered his own motives. He cared for her, this girl who was the last of his blood, and he wanted to protect her. In protecting her, though, would he also deprive her of the chance to learn how to protect herself?

  Scowling Tiger closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't know, and he called upon the Infinite to grant him the faith to stand behind his daughter—not in front of her.

  “Infinite be with you, Lord Leaping Elk,” he said finally. Acceptance flowed into him from the only authority he acknowledged to be greater than he, the deity called the Infinite.

  “Infinite with you be, Tiger Scowling Lord.” The black bandit bowed to the other man. “Tiger Purring Lady here be want, humble bandit not object.”

  The bandit general nodded to acknowledge the obeisance, adjusting his position on the cushion. He sat on haunches, sword across lap, left fist propped on thigh.

  The conference room was spare of decor, a single silk tapestry adorning one wall. The only pieces of furniture were the cushions on which the three men sat.

  Someone scratched at the door.

  Rising to answer it, Raging River took the tray from the servant outside. On the tray was coffee and snacks. He set it beside his cushion and poured for the other two men, handing each man a cup.

  Not given to ceremony, Scowling Tiger brought the conversation quickly to the point. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Lord Elk?”

  “Tiger Lord eight month ago animal for woman trade, eh? Jaguar Snarling Emperor Lord humble bandit ask, why trade arrange. Tiger Lord remember?” The black bandit sipped black coffee.

  Scowling Tiger nodded, gesturing the other man to continue.

  “Tiger Lord, please, humble bandit forgive, not all reason tell. Humble bandit say, 'Humble bandit vision see. Without trade, many bandit dead, maybe half. With trade, not.' Tiger Scowling Lord, many bandit anyway die, will of Infinite. Trade not as many bandit die, eh?”

  “Without the trade more bandits would've died?”

  “Yes, Tiger Lord, that what humble bandit say, not well speak forgive. Also not say, Tiger Purring Lady young when bandit lead.”

  “Eh? What?” Scowling Tiger glanced at Raging River, whose hand worried the hilt of sword.

  “Tiger Lord messenger kill because message not like?” Leaping Elk stared at the other man fearlessly.

  Sighing, the bandit general glanced at the retainer again. Raging River had expressed the same sentiment earlier. “Eh? Of course not.” Scowling Tiger heard how his voice lacked conviction this time. “Please, Lord Elk, tell me what you know.”

  'He can't do that, Father,' the young voice said.

  He frowned at the animal. “Why not, eh?”

  'Have you ever consulted a prescient, Father? They never tell all they know. What they do tell they say so cryptically, you never really know what they mean until the event occurs. The Lord Elk can do no different. He can't reveal certain facts. To do so would create an awareness of the event before it happens. The event would never take place as foretold.' The voice varied in pitch several times, as if switching from the girl's to the tiger's.

  How could she understand those concepts at her age? Scowling Tiger wondered. With the help of the tiger, she sounds like an ancient sage. “For an eighteen-month-old child, you're very perceptive, Daughter.” Scowling Tiger sipped his coffee contentedly.

  'I merely listened to the vision-sellers as they spoke with warriors about to do battle.'

  “While merged with the tiger?”

  'Yes, Father, are you displeased?'

  “No, Daughter, not at all. I'm proud of your initiative.”

  'Thank you, Father. I'm glad you're not angry.'

  “So, Lord Elk, tell me what you can, eh?” Have I given her reason to fear my anger? Scowling Tiger wondered.

  “Yes, Tiger Scowling Lord. Vision say, daughter Tiger Purring Lady young when bandit lead. How young not know. Vision
animal beside her show, fortress intact, no animal, no fortress, eh?”

  “Did you see how I'll die?”

  Leaping Elk didn't reply, as if held by some force.

  'He can't answer, Father.'

  Scowling Tiger nodded. Having felt his mortality earlier, he realized that Leaping Elk wasn't here by chance. The Infinite's warning me, the bandit general thought. “So the tiger will insure that my daughter inherits the fortress, eh?”

  “Maybe fortress bandit include, Lord?”

  “You mean that the fortress is symbolic of all I've built since becoming a bandit?”

  Leaping Elk nodded vigorously. “Yes, Tiger Lord, intuit so tell.”

  Scowling Tiger looked at the animal. “What else can you tell me, Lord Elk?”

  “Humble bandit many dream have, Tiger Lord. One dream man of bronze show, death to bandit and Empire bring. Dream humble bandit confuse.”

  “ 'Man of bronze'? Like Brazen Bear?!”

  “Man like Bear Brazen look, Lord, yes.”

  “He's dead! I saw the Imperial executioner take his head!”

  “Infinite meaning not humble bandit tell, Lord.” Leaping Elk shrugged. “Other dreams humble bandit have, Lord. Dream Snow Fleeting Lady in pool of water be—alone. Water, uh, how you say, boil? Snow Lady water talk.”

  “What?” Scowling Tiger asked, mystified.

  'She's talking to the water itself?' the young voice asked.

  “Yes, Tiger Lady.”

  “That insufferable strumpet!” the bandit general spat, his sack shriveling. “Your brother wouldn't allow the traitress to speak to the Matriarch Water, would he?”

  “Uh, forgive me, Lord,” Raging River said. “Didn't the bar … uh, Lord Emperor Jaguar trade her to Flying Arrow?”

  “Oh, yes, that's right, Lord River.” Scowling Tiger had forgotten. “Who then traded her to Bubbling Water.” He twisted his head on his neck. His brain felt it was spinning inside his skull. The left fist ground into thigh.

  “Tiger Lord she all secret of fortress tell think?”

  “Eh?” He could hardly understand the other's speech. “Wouldn't you? The wench hates the dirt I walk on! Lord River, how much do you think she knows?”

  The retainer shrugged. “She didn't involve herself in the administration of the fortress, but neither did anyone watch her all the time. She came and went as she pleased. What about her servants? Let's question them, eh?”

  Scowling Tiger nodded. “We'll have to refurbish the whole fortress, Lord River. Probably redesign every level and seal up all those secret entrances. If she knows the layout and tells the Imperial Whore, then we'll have a mighty shaft headed for our collective back passage.”

  “Indeed, Lord.” Raging River worried the hilt of his sword.

  “I appreciate your telling me, Lord Elk. When did you have this dream?”

  “Dream of Snow Lady humble bandit last night have, Lord.”

  “Good—we have time to avert a complete catastrophe. Thank you for your trouble and time, Lord Elk, and for informing me so quickly. If you'd like, you're welcome to quarter here for the night.”

  “Humble bandit Tiger Lord thank. Own bed seek, please forgive. Infinite with you be, Tiger Scowling Lord.” Leaping Elk bowed, touching the stone floor with his forehead.

  The bandit general nodded to acknowledge the obeisance and watched the negroid bandit leave. The door closed.

  Raging River strangled his sword, scrutinizing the door.

  “What do you think?” Scowling Tiger asked.

  The retainer looked at him—and sighed. “I tried to warn you about that wench, Lord. Forgive me for suggesting it, but I think she spied for the Imperial whore the whole time.”

  “Eh? The Infinite has addled your brains! She wasn't the whore's spy!”

  Raging River shrugged. “As for the Lord Elk, take his head and still his lies, Lord.”

  Scowling Tiger grinned. When he was a young man, a seer had foretold that the man who pulled a bow better than he would inherit his domains. He'd killed the woman to silence her lies, then had practiced with a bow until none could beat him. He was still the best archer in all four Empires.

  Killing the messenger never changed the message. The vagaries of prophecy, however, did invite multiple meanings.

  Scowling Tiger frowned, remembering Brazen Bear. He's dead! the bandit general thought, wondering who this “man of bronze” was. The Eastern expatriate then recalled that the Consort Flowering Pine was pregnant with twins, fathered by an unknown man. Apprehension crept up his spine and shook him.

  No, Scowling Tiger thought, dismissing the ridiculous idea immediately. Brazen Bear had died sixteen years ago, long before Flowering Pine conceived.

  Chapter 3

  Burrow: Population circa 9300: 50,000. Location: Southern Windy Mountains, Eastern Empire, 10 miles north of the River Placid, 20 miles south of the Tiger Fortress, 150 miles northeast of Emparia City, 300 miles west of Cove. Etymology: Formerly Barrow, the site of the interred ashes of the Emperors Peregrine. Shortly after the fall of the Northern Empire, the name changed to Burrow. The name quickly became symbolic of how the Eastern Empire dug in to defend itself from the bandits across its northern border.—Encyclopedia Empirica.

  * * *

  “Our garrison stands in the center of Burrow,” the Captain Probing Gaze said. “This structure's large enough to house all the citizens living in the urban surrounds. Three thousand warriors defend the city from the infrequent incursions of bandits. Few of the rogues have warriors enough to challenge this northern bastion of the Lord Emperor Arrow's dominion. Despite frequent Imperial patrols, bandits often prey upon villages to the east and west. We can't protect them all. The attrition of personnel is greater at Burrow than at any other place in the East. We all know this is the anus of the Empire.

  “Look,” the sectathon Captain said to the man beside him on the northernmost battlement. “Scan the land around Burrow with your talent.” Probing Gaze swept his arm in an arc from east to south to west. “On the road to the east is only one poor soul hurrying toward the garrison. To the southwest many more are traveling both toward and away from Burrow, Emparia City across the River Placid. To the west are two brave souls willing to risk the dangers of nighttime travel near the border.

  “Now, Lord Corporal Eagle, now look north. The entire area north of the city is clear of people—and therefore bandits. On this side of the border. Due north of Burrow, at the limit of my twenty-mile range, is the Tiger Fortress. On clear days you can see the fortress. At night it's one of many snow-covered mountains, a mere suggestion of shape. That womb of anarchy can whelp an army of ten thousand bandits in minutes.

  “Ten thousand bandits, Lord Corporal Eagle. Three thousand Arrow Warriors. Think about it, man!” The Captain's voice was as sharp as a sword.

  “Other sectathons are at their regular posts on the garrison battlements. Even so, I often come here to look for myself.” Satisfied all was well, Probing Gaze turned to regard Spying Eagle.

  Brown of hair, of eye, of skin, the Wizard sat glumly on battlement stone. He looked at the rock beneath him.

  A chill gust tousled Probing Gaze's dirt-blond hair. On the wind he smelled impending snowstorm. He guessed that by morning the storm would isolate the area, his instincts telling him the storm would approach blizzard severity. “Your attitude stinks, Corporal,” the Captain said bluntly.

  Spying Eagle glanced up at him but didn't respond.

  “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

  “I didn't choose to be here. Our glorious Empire conscripted me against my will.”

  “Address me properly, Lord Corporal!”

  The Wizard sighed. “Yes, Lord Captain.”

  Probing Gaze made a sound of disgust. “I ask for experienced warriors and they send me a soft psychologist. By the Infinite, I need men who fight, not children who simper.”

  “Would it help to know my disgust is as profound as yours?”

  P
robing Gaze glared at his subordinate.

  “Lord Captain,” Spying Eagle added lazily.

  “I'm twenty-seven,” Probing Gaze said, sighing. “I'm Captain of a full battalion of the three stationed at Burrow. I'm a sectathon with a Wizard-strength talent. I'm a native of the Caven Hills with dirt-blond hair and blue eyes. I'm six-foot six with excellent speed and infinite endurance. I've got a sword four inches longer than most swords. Perhaps a hundred bandits have discovered that last fact when they died on my blade. I've found no greater pleasure than killing bandits. I'm very good at it. With warriors like you, though, I risk bandits' killing me instead.

  “Ten thousand bandits, three thousand warriors. Think about it, Lord Eagle. Morale and discipline among my men have deteriorated since Headquarters assigned you to the garrison. I don't care if you're a Wizard. They made you a Lieutenant at induction because that's the rank you had at discharge. Infinite knows how you earned it. I've already demoted you to Corporal. That rank's still too high for you. If the Colonel Wolf hadn't told me not to, I'd demote you to Sergeant for your continual disruption of the regiment. Infinite blast, I've thrown you into the stockade for insubordination three times, each time for a week, the last time in solitary confinement. Each time you come out looking pleased with yourself. You act irrepressible, obstreperous, resentful, arrogant, angry. Just what are you trying to do here, Corporal?” Probing Gaze sighed, having brought the man up here the battlement to reason with him.

  “I'm trying to get myself discharged, Lord Captain!”

  “You don't care how you do it, eh?” Suddenly furious, Probing Gaze leaned down and grabbed the man's blue and white uniform by the collars. He lifted him bodily until their faces were even. The Wizard's feet dangled inches above battlement stone. “People are dying here, Infinite blast you! I'll not have you or anyone else making it worse than it already is, do you understand!” Probing Gaze dropped him and turned to contemplate the mountains rising to the north. Then he sighed. Turning back around, he met the other's gaze. “I'm sorry, Lord Eagle, I lost my temper. I hope you'll forgive me.”

  Nodding, Spying Eagle straightened his robes.