by Alex Aguilar
There it is again. The grin, the chuckle, and the damn head nod… Is that all you know how to do?
Suddenly, something caught her eye…
Night had arrived, and all she could see through the small opening of the tent was a sea of grey shadows. She was sure, however, that something was lurking just outside.
She could see its legs… Not human legs…
They were thinner and furrier, and there were four of them…
“You stupid, stupid girl,” Malekai said. Robyn had entirely forgotten he was there for a moment; her eyes were far too distracted. “Whatever shall I do with you?” he asked.
Then the four-legged shadow came back.
It was standing just outside the tent…
A wolflike figure, only smaller… It growled softly, its sharp teeth exposed and ready… It bent down on the dirt as if ready to pounce and attack…
Robyn’s heart raced. She tried to disguise her expression as a distressed one, but the intrigue in her eyes was far too vivid. And Malekai noticed it, for how couldn’t he? He followed her eyes, but the wolflike shadow suddenly ran off into the darkness as if it had been scared away… And then Robyn realized why when her nose caught that awful smell of sweat and body odor.
“Cap’n Malekai, sir?” Borrys Belvaine approached the tent.
Malekai grunted frustratingly. “What?!”
“They’re all gathered, sir,” Borrys peeked his head inside. “What do I tell ‘em?”
“I’ll be out in a moment, I told you not to interrupt!”
“Y-Yes, sir…”
Malekai turned his sinister glare back at Robyn, who appeared distraught and frantic. “When I get back here we’re having a heart to heart, me and you,” he said. “You aren’t at home anymore, Robyn… I’ll see to it that you warm up to me… ‘cause, like it or not, I’m the only friend you’ve got out here…”
He grinned. And then slowly he leaned in and pressed his head against her cheek.
She winced and recoiled from the disgust as he caught a whiff of her hair.
“See you in a few hours, Robyn,” he said. Then he stood up, threw on his red captain’s coat, and stepped out of the tent to a roar of cheers from the two hundred mercenaries waiting for him just outside. “Alright, shut it, you lazy dogs!” she heard him say, and then there was a rumble of laughs and chants.
She sighed exhaustedly and lowered her head. For a moment, she felt helpless and defeated. Suddenly, however, she felt a heavy pounding in her chest as her eyes examined her loose feet…
He forgot, she realized. The blind fool forgot about the rope…
She began panting heavily, a broad grin of hope plastered on her face. So power-hungry, the captain was, that he overlooked something so simple and yet so vital. With her hands tied together at her back, Robyn bent and twisted her legs, then threw herself forward. She fell as gently as she could, her forehead touching the dirt as she shifted her legs to a kneeling position. Her boot slammed against the mountain of junk and there was a loud noise as a wooden shield fell from the pile. She froze, thinking she was done for… But outside, the drunken cheers only grew louder. Malekai was speaking to them all, addressing them before the raid they would soon embark on, but she could hardly lend an ear from the anxiety.
Focus, Robyn… It’s now or never.
The left side of her face was blemished with sweat and dirt. She managed to push herself off the ground, so abruptly that she felt a crack in her backbone. But she did it… She was on her knees… And a second later she leapt to her feet, her hands stuck to her waist, as she carefully searched for anything sharp.
I must’ve missed something. I always do.
She looked everywhere, in corners she had overlooked and under places she couldn’t bend to look before. Her heart was pounding so heavily inside her chest, she thought she would faint from the panic.
Come on… There must be something…
It was then that Robyn spotted her quiver of arrows. She ran towards it and bent on one knee. It was right next to her bow Spirit, smooth and beautiful as always.
She smiled. It brought tears to her eyes.
She had to cut the rope somehow, perhaps if she could use the tip of an arrow to poke at the thread. For a moment, she was so distracted that she had her back to the entrance of the tent. And she failed to see the shadow standing there, the wolflike shadow, staring at her, its only eye glistening beneath the light of the lit torches…
Robyn’s ear caught the sound, gentle footsteps inside the tent.
No… she thought. Not again. I won’t allow it again.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, preparing herself for the worst, her legs ready to kick and attack with as much force as she could muster.
And then she heard it, a familiar voice right behind her...
A deep, smooth, calming voice with a dash of wit...
“The next time I ask you to shoot that man… Please shoot.”
She felt a chill rushing up her spine, her skin crawling with goosebumps as if she had just heard the voice of death itself. Never had her neck turned so quickly. She felt a crack, even, as she stumbled and fell back on her posterior, her eyes wide, her mouth open with disbelief.
Standing there was a fox… A fox covered in a beautiful grey pelt all over his back and tail, while the fur on his neck and feet was a scenic shade of orange with a few white specks here and there. What sent a smile to Robyn’s face, however, was when she realized the fox was missing his left eye.
Her lip shivered nervously as she spoke. “Nyx…?”
And then she heard it, that chuckle of his; it was like music to her ears.
“Oh… right,” he said to her. “I may have forgotten to mention one small but very important detail about the curse… It doesn’t allow me to actually die, y’see.”
Robyn had no words. Her eyes began to swell with tears, much like they had several times that day, only this time she welcomed them. “Y-You’re… Nyx, you’re…”
“Yes, yes, no time to waste, Lady Robyn,” Nyx interrupted, his new sharp set of teeth shifting up and down as he spoke. “Let’s get you out of those ropes!”
Robyn shifted eagerly to her knees again, her wrists held out for Nyx. He had grown so unused to having teeth, much less fangs with which to rip anything so easily. He was sloppy at first, but in less than a minute Robyn was free.
“Now,” Nyx said, “Shall w-”
He paused where he stood as something unexpected happened…
Robyn Huxley threw her arms around him, gripping tightly onto the soft grey fur on his neck and sighing heavily into his ear. She was trembling, he could feel it. Not out of fear, but out of joy.
“Oh Nyx,” she said, a tear escaping her eyes. “I-I’m so happy to see you…”
Nyx did not know what to say. He simply stood there, his whiskers flickering, his heartbeat speeding up. It felt strange to him, that warm feeling in his chest, one that he’d forgotten he could feel, the feeling of being cared for. It made him slightly uncomfortable.
“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat. “None of this would’ve happened if only you listened.”
It was typical of him, to resort to hostility whenever he felt uncomfortable. Yet Robyn found herself smiling all the same. She backed away from the hug, but kept her hands around his furry cheeks, caressing them softly with her thumbs as she took a moment to observe him carefully.
“It’s you… It’s really you,” she said with a brightly lit face.
The fox looked thoughtful for a moment. He looked like any other grey fox in the world, and yet at the same time something about him reminded Robyn of that crabby old crow. It wasn’t only his missing eye, it was his voice and his demeanor and the way he became flustered whenever someone took an interest in him, as if he was not used to the attention.
“Gather your things, Lady Robyn,” he said. “Let’s leave this damned place.”
Robyn gave him a smile and a head nod and immediately began gathering her bel
ongings as Nyx ran to the tent’s entrance to keep watch. She picked up Spirit, caressed it for a moment, and then tied her quiver of arrows and her rucksack onto her belts. There was no food left; Borrys had taken and eaten it all. But there was still some coin in there and a bit of callis root.
She hurried over to the entrance and squatted down next to the fox.
“What’s going on?” she whispered anxiously.
“They’re getting ready to raid a nearby camp,” Nyx replied. “When I give the word, follow me. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” she said eagerly. “Yes…”
She stared at him while he wasn’t looking. So different and yet so humanlike.
With a piece of home at her side, she felt unstoppable all over again.
They listened attentively, watching closely as Captain Malekai Pahrvus addressed his hoard of drunken sloppy raiders. He was standing in a muddy patch of dirt, wearing his captain’s coat, a blend of red and black leathers with the mark of the scorpion on his back. He loved that coat, dust and patches and all. It was clear in that grin of his.
Robyn’s brows lowered, the rage in her chest returning…
She found herself reaching for an arrow…
“Don’t,” Nyx stopped her. “It’s not worth it…”
Robyn’s hand dropped. Nyx was right, and she knew it.
As much as she wanted to, the matter would have to wait.
“Listen here, lads,” Malekai was saying. “The war in Halghard is reaching its climax… Nearby, we’ve spotted a camp! The banners and colors are Wyrmwood’s. And serving as the knight commander of the troop, is none other than Sir Percyval Garroway, himself!” There were angry shouts from the crowd, men cursing angrily and spitting at the sound of the knight’s name.
“That crooked old shit!”
“Freak-loving bastard!”
“Coward!”
The captain raised both arms into the air. “All right, settle down, gents… Wyrmwood has gone desperate, yes. They have resorted to recruiting freaks for their armies.”
“It’s hardly an army. Just a giant batch of pigs in armor,” a raider with patchy hair and a few missing teeth yelled from the crowd, to which the rest of the men laughed in unison.
“Careful there, lad,” Borrys said. “They ain’t to be taken lightly.”
“What’s the problem?” the raider replied. “Intimidated by a few gutless apes with swords?” Another round of laughs roared among the crowd.
“You stupid shit,” another one said. “They’ve got a mage with ‘em…”
Then there were confused and startled murmurs among them. Robyn and Nyx waited eagerly for their moment, but Malekai was far too close to the tent. There was nothing to do but wait.
“What kind o’ mage?”
“A bleedin’ rabbit,” the man growled. “An ice mage from the north!”
“Clive’s right! I saw the elf with me own eyes. They’ve also got a horned one!”
“A minotauro?!”
“Aye. A big bastard, he is.”
“Well we have the numbers,” Captain Malekai said, attempting to bring his men back together. “It matters not whether they are men or rabbits or greenskins. Are we not the Rogue Brotherhood?!”
The men chanted and cheered together.
“Tell me, lads, when King Frederic fell, who was it that raided the town of Grymsbi and took all of its coin?!”
“We did!” the men chanted.
“And tell me, when the freaks from the lost city of Bauqora banded together to get rid of the Rogue Brotherhood, who was it that won the battle?!”
“We did!”
“That’s right, we did! Don’t you bloody forget it!”
As Malekai paced further away, Nyx saw a window of opportunity.
“Now!” he said to Robyn. “Follow me.”
Then they ran, scuttling from one tent to another, using them as shields. Among the chaotic ambience, no one seemed to notice them. They were mere shadows in the dark, overlooked by the raiders’ drunkenly impaired sights. Nyx ran ahead, looking for a subtle trail that would lead them into the safety of the trees. There was a gap among the tents, the last couple of them isolated from the rest, some fifteen feet away, a risky distance.
Nyx went first. He was low enough to the ground that no one saw him. And even if they had, he was only a fox, easily shrugged off as harmless.
You can do this, Robyn told herself. You’re almost out of here. Only one tent left.
But something stopped her all of a sudden…
From the corner of her eye, she saw them… Two slaves were tied together near a lit fire, the same slaves she had seen when she was first dragged into the camp. One of them was a woman and the other a young man, both of them with a red scar on their faces, the mark of the scorpion. They were branded just like her, shackled just like her, and they had that look of both sorrow and rage on their faces, just like her…
Her feet wouldn’t dare move towards the trees…
Instead, she turned and darted towards them.
“Lady Robyn?! What are you doing?!” Nyx hissed.
She wasn’t thinking at all. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Even if she escaped, she could never live with the guilt, knowing she’d left others behind to suffer the same fate she would have suffered. She reached them and hid behind their frame. They were nearly unconscious, nearly passed out from the hunger and thirst, but they were alive. She tugged at their wrists, untied their ropes, and they were suddenly startled awake, their eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to convince themselves they weren’t dreaming. Nyx was keeping watch. Fortunately, the rogue raiders were drunk and distracted, long enough for Robyn to free both slaves.
“Thank you, m’lady,” the woman cried, her eyes tear-stained and weary, looking at Robyn as if she was some sort of Lady Knight coming to their rescue. “May the gods bless you, m’lady… Thank you…”
Robyn gave the woman a nod. “Free the rest of them,” she told her. “Make sure that no one gets left behind.”
“Yes, m’lady!” They armed themselves with a couple of knives they found in a rucksack near the fire, knowing very well where to look. “Thank you, m’lady,” they kept saying. “Thank you…”
Robyn smiled. She felt a great relief in her chest, and with it came the will to escape.
Now or never, Robyn… She took a deep breath and started running. She glanced over her shoulders several times, so as to make sure no one was watching. And when she reached the last tent, where Nyx was waiting for her, she stumbled clumsily. Her boot slammed against something hard and rigid, and she fell face forward on the dirt.
She failed to spot the axe… It was smooth and shimmering and dangerously sharp, and the blade of it was sunk halfway into the ground, the handle sticking outward. Robyn’s heart had already been racing, only now she felt chills and the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
A frightening figure walked out of a tent. The torch that hung at the entrance illuminated his olive green face. Her eyes suddenly met his. She froze from the fear.
Damn it all to hells…
The Beast looked grim, though he almost always did. He glared at her for several moments, and then his eyes moved away as Nyx crawled slowly towards them, growling gently like a hound.
Nyx stood next to Robyn like a loyal guardsman, his sharp teeth exposed.
Robyn could see, behind the Beast’s looming figure, the other slaves freeing themselves and running into the darkness. Somehow, it sent a mild relief to her chest.
I’m caught, she realized. But at least they’re free… At least there’s that…
The Beast’s eyes were hard to read. He certainly recognized her. It hadn’t been long since she arrived at the camp. He knew that she was not supposed to be out of the captain’s tent, much less untied. But as his eyes moved away from Robyn and towards his comrades, he looked more confused than angry.
Much to Robyn’s surprise, something peculiar happened…
; The Beast made not a single fuss. He gave her a muffled grunt, a sign of annoyance, and then he grabbed his axe and gave it a good wipe. He didn’t care for her. He only cared for his axe. And when he made sure it wasn’t harmed, the large orc simply turned the other way and walked off.
Robyn and Nyx looked at each other in disbelief for a moment.
“Come,” Nyx said, clearing his throat nervously. “We must keep moving.”
Robyn stumbled to her feet and they ran into the safety of the trees.
She had made it… She was free, if only for now…
And ever since that day, something changed within her.
She was still Robyn Huxley, that humble farmgirl from Elbon, bold and nervy and resplendently loyal. But there was one thing she was now certain of, should she ever find herself in an unlucky situation.
She would never miss an opportunity to shoot again…
XI
The Raid
When one tells a story, it is important to relay every fact and every element, however tragic it may be. To live every day in a shell of comfort must be charming, to witness the atrocities of the world through a curtain of safety and assurance, what a life that would be. But life is quite different for the voiceless and the downtrodden. For them, these atrocities are merely a cold reality, a naked truth. For them, there is no shell of comfort, no curtain of safety, there is only life. And life, unfortunately, is no fairytale.
The sounds of steel clashing against steel rang and pulsated throughout the Wyrmwood camp. As the hours went by, sellswords and archers were being enlisted, ravens were being sent, and numbers were growing significantly. The rest of the troop had not much to do but wait, spending endless hours training and strategizing plans of attack.
A war’s afoot, the sergeants would say. No better way to pass the time than to train.
Or, in the case of the Woodland recruits, train and drink.
Near a shabby old tent made of sticks and stained fabric, the twin mercenaries Gwyn and Daryan practiced their techniques, his sword clinking against her knives repeatedly as she ducked and darted out of the way as if her life depended on it. Gwyn was one hell of a fighter. Her knives may have seemed powerless compared to Daryan’s blade, but she had twice the speed and agility, and she certainly knew how to use that to her advantage.