by C. Greenwood
It was mid-afternoon when we came upon the traveler’s way huts along the Tinker Path. It was easy to see the evidence of what happened in this place. The ground around the buildings was blood-soaked and churned with the prints of men and horses alike. There must have been a dozen or more Fists here, but I didn’t share that fact with Terrac. His resolve was weak enough.
Behind the way huts we found our men, or what was left of them. I saw Mabias, Spearneck, and a couple others I didn’t know as well. The Fists hadn’t troubled themselves with carrying the whole remains back to Selbius, but every corpse had been beheaded, the decapitated bodies left where they fell. I identified the dead mostly by clothing or distinctive markings on their bodies. Of the traitor, Resid, there was no sign and I could only assume he had ridden away with the Fists.
Resid was not the only man missing. My heart climbed back out of my throat as I realized Brig was not among the dead. I searched the sheds and the surrounding area, thinking he might have crawled, injured, a short distance, but all I found was his bone-handled hunting knife lying behind one of the sheds. My search here done, I slipped the knife into my belt and hurried a protesting Terrac off the road.
Much as I regretted the necessity, we had to leave the rest of our men where they lay. There wasn’t time to deal with any kind of burial. I still had no way of knowing whether it was a live prisoner or a cold corpse I was chasing after, but as long as there was any hope for Brig, I couldn’t give up. We pushed on through the wood, making for the shortcut through Heeflin’s Bog. I had to catch the Fists before Selbius. Once Brig was within the city walls there would be little chance of getting him back.