“Double it is,” the Bravador replied. “Now let’s move out, Shaven.”
Lost, Arturo looked at Crazy Raccoon. The older man shrugged at Arturo, smiling.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ the man’s expression said. What did you expect from a Shaven?
By this time, a number of villagers had also awoken, most of them seeming to be tender after the night of merriment. They walked gingerly towards the trio, gazing in awe at the warriors preparing to set forth.
Arturo looked at Crazy Raccoon, a grin plastered all over the older Bravador’s face, and realised that the man loved this.
He loves the adulation he receives because he is a Bravador. Arturo realised the adulation could be his too, if he chose to receive it. These people did not know who Crazy Raccoon was, did not know his legend. They respected him only because of the mask he wore, and the sword at his side. That was enough to tell them he was someone special. Arturo shared all of these traits as well, and now that he studied the people milling about outside their homes, he realised they were looking at him just in the same way they were looking at Crazy Raccoon. However, Arturo knew Crazy Raccoon had earned the title of Bravador, whereas Arturo felt he still had work to do before he felt confident in the role.
Crazy Raccoon took in the crowd, then turned to his companions, focussing most of his attention on Arturo. “Come on then,” the older Bravador said. “We’d better start early. We’ve had a lot of fun, but we don’t want this Procopio to know we’re coming. These Wildfolk seem like people we can trust, but you’re never sure where eyes and ears might be. Just takes one of them to steal our surprise.”
Arturo nodded, picking himself up, eyeing the crowd that had gathered outside the hut. Arturo had vague memories of last night’s feast, of promising the villagers that in the morning he would set out to rid them of the plague of bandits. How he wished he felt as confident now as he had then.
“They say he’s west of here, about half a day’s walk,” Crazy Raccoon said. “The bandits use horses, so they can make the journey much quicker, but we’d be best to go on foot so we’re not noticed.” Arturo nodded. Seemed sensible.
Crazy Raccoon stepped off of the wooden porch, and waved at the crowds. There was a mix of emotion on the faces in front of them. Many were hopeful, full of joy at the sight of the swordsmen and Yizel marching forth from the home. Some seemed nervous, probably worried about the reaction the bandits would have if things went wrong.
If things went wrong. I guess I don’t need to worry about that. If things do go wrong, I won’t be around to see what happens next.
They continued to walk, approaching the outer ring of villagers, and Crazy Raccoon barked a laugh, stopping in his tracks. In front of the man stood a young boy, wearing a mask. The mask was made out of some ripped fabric, probably an old bed sheet. Hopefully an old bed sheet, and not one currently in use, as the boy had used charcoal to paint black circles around the eye holes of the mask. It was clearly an attempt to replicate the hypnotic rings on Crazy Raccoon’s own bandana.
Crazy Raccoon laughed again. “Now then, boy,” he said, resting his hand on his rapier as he spoke. “Don’t you know wearing that mask makes you fair game for any Bravador that happens by?” Crazy Raccoon turned to Arturo. “What about you, Starving Pup? Fancy challenging the newest Bravador of Calvario to a duel?”
Arturo was worried the boy would react with fear at the suggestion of a fight, but he was pleasantly surprised to see the child’s jaw jut out at the mention of a challenge, and found himself slightly unnerved at the menacing stare the boy tried to give him, despite the fact that he barely came up to Arturo’s own waist.
Arturo did his best to give a theatrical laugh. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge, Crazy Raccoon,” he said, trying to add as much humour to his voice as he could to let any nearby parents know he was speaking only in jest. “But I daresay I would not walk away from that fight unscathed, and I want to keep myself fresh for the villains who deserve to have my blade pointed at them.”
“So, I guess you’re not really a Bravador, then?” the child spat back.
Arturo was shocked. Enraged by the audacity of the boy, Arturo pulled his blade a finger’s width from its sheath. The noise of the metal sliding free was enough to remind the child of what he was facing, and Arturo got a sense of pleasure and a small feeling of guilt from the look of fear that briefly flitted across the boy’s eyes as he staggered backwards.
Crazy Raccoon held his belly and laughed as Arturo had never heard him before, and the nearby crowds joined in. The young lad did not seem as impressed. He ripped the mask from his face, and ran back into the crowds.
“A true Bravador doesn’t give up that easily,” Crazy Raccoon shouted after the child. “Next time, kick him in the balls and see if you make him pull the rest of the sword out.”
The crowd laughed nervously, but Crazy Raccoon seemed oblivious to the mixed reactions to his ribald jest.
“Come on then,” Crazy Raccoon said to Arturo and Yizel. “Let’s get this sorted.”
True to Crazy Raccoon’s prediction, they arrived at the encampment not long after midday. The chasm cliff that ran along the back of Calvario also ran close to the bandit encampment. In order to avoid detection, and to get a better look at where they were planning to assault, Crazy Raccoon suggested the three of them climb to the top of the cliff for a better vantage point. Arturo and Yizel had no issues with the climb, after they found the gentlest part of the cliff to scale. Crazy Raccoon, possibly due to his girth more than anything else, struggled, but eventually pulled himself swearing up to the top. Aware that the bandits below would probably have lookouts, the three of them shuffled forward carefully. When they were close enough to get a good view of the encampment, they lay together to survey the scene. Arturo was surprised by how familiar everything below looked to him. The bandits had taken over an old cattle estate, one that seemed very similar to Arturo’s own Janitzio. There was a large manor building, presumably originally owned by the owner of the estate. This one was in considerably worse repair than Arturo’s childhood home. Close by the manor house there were about half a dozen smaller buildings. From Arturo’s experience, these would have belonged to the hired help of the estate. Below, they certainly looked to be in use, fire burning in a few of their chimneys. Close by these permanent buildings, a number of tents had also been erected.
“Queen’s tits,” Crazy Raccoon said, “there’s a lot of them. More than I thought there’d be.”
Arturo was thinking the same thing. He had expected a dozen men, two dozen if they were unlucky. Looking at the buildings below, and at the extra tents that had been pitched out, he would not be surprised if closer to fifty bandits were using these facilities.
The man with the dead face had indeed inspired loyalty from his fellow bandits.
“Can we still do this?” Arturo had had faith that two Bravadori and a Shaven would be able to fend off more than their fair share of attackers, but these numbers changed the odds dramatically. Where did that leave them in their quest? The choices seemed to be to continue and fail, or go home in defeat. The thought of both options crushed Arturo. He could not handle another defeat.
“I’ve done it before,” Crazy Raccoon mused, not sounding particularly confident, “but I was younger then, better prepared. Not sure about us today.”
Arturo’s gaze drifted to the entrance of the old estate. Much like Arturo’s father’s land, this must have been grazing land for cattle belonging to the estate owner. The estate buildings were enclosed in a protective wall, but that wall had clearly seen better days. He could spot some sections of it that had collapsed entirely.
Arturo stared at the main gates, and at the brown heaps that appeared to decorate the wall on either side of the gates. Something in that fetid mess moved. Arturo narrowed his eyes, and tried to make out what he was looking at. Then he gasped.
“There’s somebody down there,” he said, raising his voice louder
than he had meant to. Yizel reached her hand out to Arturo’s mouth, while Crazy Raccoon whispered at him harshly.
“Keep your voice down, you fool. Of course there’re people there. Far too bloody many of them.”
Arturo shook his head in annoyance, shrugging Yizel’s hand off his mouth.
“No, I mean at the gates. Look at the gates.”
All three of them squinted, and eventually were able to make out what Arturo was talking about. There, on either side of the entranceway to the estate, were two people nailed to the wall. These people were still alive, moving every so often, twitching in pain, betraying that life still clung to them like a miser refusing to pay taxes.
“Queen’s tits,” Yizel whispered.
“It’s like back in Wild Town,” Arturo said. “And at Calvario as well. They protect themselves with dying things, offering dying things to the Mistress of the Wilds to turn her eye.”
“Yeah, but they don’t fucking nail people to the door, do they?” Crazy Raccoon said.
“Definitely not,” Arturo said. “So why then, do these bandits feel the need to do something like this?”
“Because they’re evil,” Yizel said. “Because they’re evil, and scared. You don’t make a sacrifice like this casually. They’re scared of something.”
“They should be scared of something,” Crazy Raccoon said. “They should be scared of me. Because I’m going to sneak in there, shove my blade up this Procopio’s arse, and that’ll be the end of this sorry story. Not even dead villagers nailed to the door post will stop that.”
“Wait, what?” Arturo said, turning to stare at Crazy Raccoon incredulously.
“There’s no way we can take them all on, not that many people. So, this assault just turned into an assassination. One of us has to scramble down there, sneak into Procopio’s rooms, and kill him. Naturally, that person should be me.”
“That has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard,” Yizel said.
“Nobody asked you, Shaven. Got a better idea?”
Arturo certainly couldn’t think of one. The idea of an assassination attempt made sense. In fact, Arturo had felt a distinct sense of relief when Crazy Raccoon had suggested it, as it seemed to be the only possible choice that afforded them any chance of success. At least then it would be one person against a smaller group, possibly even just Procopio himself. As Crazy Raccoon said, there was no way they could walk in brazenly and expect to survive. Arturo tried not to admit that a large part of him was also relieved Crazy Raccoon was willing to take all of the burden onto his own shoulders.
“You can’t do it,” Yizel said. “You could hardly even climb that cliff yourself. You might be a great swordfighter,” she said, her eyebrow raised, “but stealth is not your strength. If you bumble into that camp you’ll be caught within minutes.”
“Shut your fucking noisemaker, Shaven. As I said already, nobody asked your opinion.”
“But I’m going to give it anyway. You want to come over here and punch me in the face some more?”
Arturo shifted uneasily, sandwiched between the two as they lay there at the cliff edge.
“Both of you, stop it,” Arturo said. He looked at Yizel, her bruised face showing anger directed towards Crazy Raccoon. Arturo turned his head, and looked at Crazy Raccoon. The older man was expecting him to speak and support his ideas.
Arturo felt stuck between his two companions. If he supported Crazy Raccoon, encouraged him to sneak into the estate by himself, one mistake could botch the whole operation. And Yizel had proven herself recently. Supporting her could be Arturo’s way of showing her he believed in her, despite the fact that she was Shaven.
Arturo looked at Crazy Raccoon again. But this man, this man is a legend. Yes, he had problems climbing up here. But he can’t get to where he is and be completely clueless as to his own abilities. If he thinks he can make it into the camp…
“Crazy Raccoon is right,” Arturo said, not being brave enough to look at Yizel’s face as he said it. “We need to take Procopio out. We need to take him out fast, before they hear about us from the village. Crazy Raccoon’s the best among us, the most skilled out of our two Bravadori. It should be him that goes.”
Still not looking at Yizel, Arturo was aware only of complete stillness to his left, where she lay. Crazy Raccoon, on the other hand, rolled onto his side, giving a big grin.
“Well, Pup,” Crazy Raccoon said, “I always knew you’d go far. Pity you’ll not get to take part in the action, but when we head back to the city, I’ll tell everyone about how you helped me get here. Maybe even embellish your participation a little. But, first things first, time for me to go down and put this matter to an end.”
Crazy Raccoon picked himself off the ground and started to make his way to the scree face they had originally climbed up.
“You have to head for the mansion,” Arturo said, helplessly, wanting to do what he could to support the Bravador. “That’s where the head of the estate would have lived. That’s where Procopio will make his quarters.”
Crazy Raccoon turned to look at Arturo, and gave him a little smirk. “Don’t you worry yourself, farmboy. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this. Just leave everything to Crazy Raccoon.”
Yizel and Arturo lay in silence as they watched Crazy Raccoon disappear over the edge of the cliff. As the older man disappeared, Arturo was struck by a distinct sense of loss. He eventually realised he had given his part in this adventure away. If any tales were told of this day, the name Starving Pup would not be associated with them.
A few minutes later, they spotted Crazy Raccoon making his way towards the encampment, a black dot darting between dry brush and rocks. Arturo’s knuckles were white as they dug into the ground beneath him. From where he was lying, he could see the guards that Procopio had positioned around the camp. Crazy Raccoon was trying to be stealthy, but Arturo couldn’t help but feel the man was moving too quickly. Just one of the guards needed to spot him, and the chance for surprise would be ruined.
“He’s going to mess everything up, you know,” Yizel said, emotionless.
Arturo pinched his lips in annoyance. “He’s Crazy Raccoon. If any of us were going to succeed, it’d be him.”
“Don’t be so sure. You’re thinking about the stories you’ve heard of him. What have you actually seen him do?”
Arturo turned to look at Yizel, the woman’s hard features fixed on the view in front of them. “What’re you saying? The stories aren’t true? That’s ridiculous.”
Yizel gave a half smile, but one that held no mirth. “Is it? Wouldn’t be the first story that turned out to have been embellished. Didn’t he just say he was going to overplay your part in this one? Wonder how many of the tales of Crazy Raccoon have had a similar treatment.”
Arturo’s nervousness and anger rose at the same time. “He’s a Bravador, Yizel. You may have forgotten what that means, but it means he’s special. It means he’s made for this, for protecting people. And you, a Shaven, you don’t get to doubt the likes of him.”
Yizel turned to look Arturo, the shock on her face making him feel like a gutter rat. That shock quickly turned to anger, a dark storm rolling over her eyes, overshadowing the hurt he had caused her.
“Oh, I know all about the Bravadori,” she spat. “Not only have I been one, I’ve been treated like shit by them for the last ten years of my life. Stop living in stories all the time, Starving Pup. You tell me the Bravadori are protectors, are heroes, are special? Give me one example. Give me one example that doesn’t come from a storybook or from around a campfire. You’ve been in the city for weeks, now. What’ve you seen the Bravadori do that makes them so special?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. The only act of selflessness he had witnessed in the city was when Yizel had helped him recover from his beating.
“Look at my face.”
Like a mule barked at by its master, Arturo could not help but turn and look at her, right ey
e raw and red, her pale skin mottled with purple bruises.
“That’s what a Bravador does. You spent a week in bed, close to death. That’s what the Bravadori do. You expect that man down there to be working hard to save the people of Calvario? You’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Why’s he really here? What’s he really up to? I guarantee you it isn’t saving people’s lives.”
“And you?” Arturo said, his voice raised more than he meant to. “What about you? A Shaven working for money, just here to earn some pay? I thought you were better than that. I thought you were here to save some lives, make a difference. What happened? Was this your plan all along, to wait until the last moment to get the right price? Or, had you hoped to change things for yourself, maybe somehow get everyone else to see you as something better, but then you realised that you’ll always be a dirty Shaven?”
He could see by the wretched look on her face that his thrust to the heart had struck true.
Yizel turned to look back at Crazy Raccoon, who had now made it to the borders of the mansion without being spotted. “I could say the same about you, Starving Pup. I know why you’re here. It certainly has nothing to do with helping people.”
Arturo paused, looking at Yizel, his mouth open. He could not argue with her. He did care about these people, of course he did, like any decent person would, but she was right - that was not why he was here. He was here to find more marks to add to his mask, to add weight to his story, to add weight to his claims of being a Bravador. He stared at the manor building below, which the dark shape of Crazy Raccoon was now entering, and he thought of the three of them, travelled all this way from Espadapan. None were here to protect the village, not truly. In all his time in the City of Swords and travelling the Wildlands looking to make his name, only two people he knew had acted selflessly. A disgraced swordfighter, and a man who had been turned mad by his own generosity.
Is this what the world was, the life he had left home to seek out for himself? A life of selfishness and stepping on others to rise higher?
Is this what being a Bravador was all about?
The Yarnsworld Collection: A fantasy boxset Page 66