Malik the Bard

by Moore, Scott

  “Then you should have no problem letting me get up and go then.”

  Every fiber of his body worked against him. He wanted to flop across the table. He wanted to wiggle his way free. His body tried to obey those thoughts.

  “You have not paid your half of the bargain. Although, we have plans to help remedy that. Afterward, you and your friends will have to stand trial.”

  Simbre didn’t sound like she had any real remorse.

  “Where are you keeping my friends?”

  Malik clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from shaking. He knew that Simbre could hear the fear inside his voice, but he wanted to give her no satisfaction.

  “It will be up to those who hear your case if you ever see them again.”

  Malik felt a small vestige of hope fade. He figured they had caught Mollie and the girl, but Simbre confirmed it.

  Malik went silent. There was nothing left to talk with Simbre about. They had strapped him to a table at her mercy. If her daughter’s tears were anything to go by, then he couldn’t count on her compassion to free him.

  “The payment will be painless for you. The trial, well I cannot make any further promises, but I will put in a good word for you.”

  Malik could hear her rummaging in the room. He wondered how long it would be until Simbre brought in her daughter. He closed his eyes holding back the tears. With a deep breath in through his nose, he attempted to calm himself.

  “You sit tight.”

  “I don’t suppose I plan on going anywhere for a while.”

  “I suppose not.” Simbre’s voice faded, meaning she had walked away.

  Silence enveloped him. Trapped on a table, unable to move, with only his thoughts to keep him company, Malik tried not to scream but failed. He screamed. Then he screamed louder. He screamed until his throat hurt. Then he screamed more. He screamed so long that his throat burned. When he could not scream anymore, he let out the tears he had been holding back.

  He cried for his family. for the revenge he would never achieve. He cried for Abrie who he had let down. Then for Mollie who he couldn’t save. He cried hardest in his self-pity. They had trapped him like a wild animal. Tied down to a table, unable to move, he would never be free again. Malik took sobbing breaths.

  After he cried, he closed his eyes. He could feel sleep coming over him. He would forget it all. When he woke up, he would feel better. Then he could think about forming a plan to get out of this mess. He could save the others and get them out of this camp.

  Malik felt his body lose tension. He fell into the sweet bliss. He let go of everything.

  “Get up!”

  Malik opened his swollen eyes. At first, the image blurred, and he couldn’t make it out. He wondered if Simbre had come back for him.

  Malik blinked a few times, trying to see his captors.

  “Move!”

  Malik was sure that this voice didn’t belong to Simbre. It made no sense for her to be telling him to move. She knew he was strapped down.

  Malik blinked again. This time the room came into focus. He pulled his head up, looking down at his arms. There were red welts from where the cuffs had bitten into his wrists. He pulled them toward his face, feeling an overwhelming sense of freedom.

  “It is about time.”

  Malik looked at the culprit, seeing Mollie standing over him.

  “How did you escape?” He wondered if he dreamed.

  “I ran. You told me to run, so I ran,” Mollie answered, she pulled his arm, making him stand. “Now we are both going to run.”

  Malik wiped the remnants of tears away. His throat was still very sore and itchy, but he powered through it.

  “Simbre said she had you in another area. She said there would be a trial for us.”

  “I ran. The girl you left with me ran too. We both got out of the camp. We had to leave the mules behind. I am sorry about them.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  If they had gotten away, they should have still been running hard the other way.

  “Because you would have come back for me, because you came back for me. You could have run instead of finding me and trying to save Abrie, but you chose not to. I could not choose myself if you didn’t.”

  Malik thought Mollie gave the dumbest answer in the history of answers, but she was right. He hadn’t run from the tent into the forest. Malik could have left Mollie, Abrie, and those stupid mules behind. Maybe he should have done that. Maybe that would have been the smart thing to do, but he had made another choice. A choice that got him caught.

  “I got caught for that choice and so will you now.”

  “Not if you get up and start moving.”

  She moved toward the tent flap. Malik decided it best if he followed her. Arguing in this room would only get them caught quicker.

  “Can we save Abrie?”

  Abrie was Malik’s only family. He couldn’t leave him behind with these people. Even though they had saved him, they weren’t the most stable minded individuals.

  “I don’t know if he is still in the medical tent or not. We have to hurry.” She pulled the tent flap back. “Let’s worry about saving ourselves first. Then we can think about getting Abrie out of here.”

  Malik figured that was a fair enough plan. If Simbre came back, there would be no saving anyone.

  Malik followed Mollie into the cool night air. He had been out for some time after that doctor’s concoction.

  “Did the girl escape too?”

  Mollie reached back pulling him along faster.

  “She did, but she did not come with me to get you.”

  Malik didn’t blame the girl. He wouldn’t have come back for a stranger either. Malik turned down a path with Mollie. It was hard telling where they were or where they headed. Malik hoped they could get out of here. It made him feel better to know that the young girl had escaped from the clutches of her mother.

  Malik ran behind Mollie like his life depended on it, which he supposed it did. Simbre had mentioned a trial and somehow, he doubted that would bode well for them. Mollie guided the way through the open ground. Simbre had tucked Malik into the back of the camp. Malik wondered if the other members of the Borrowers knew what Simbre did.

  Mollie pulled up short outside the main cluster of tents.

  “The medical tent is over there.”

  Malik tried to figure out a good path toward the tent. There had to be a way to get there without getting caught again. Malik wondered if the doctor and nurse stayed inside the tent all night, or if they had their own sleeping quarters somewhere else.

  “I can still see the mules,” Mollie said.

  Malik looked to where he had left the mules earlier in the day. Mollie was right about them. Sally and Callie both still grazed along the side of the medical tent. None of the borrowers had disposed of them yet. That gave Malik some hope. The two mules wouldn’t save them, but at least they weren’t dead.

  “We need to get in closer,” Malik said.

  “What is your plan?”

  Malik looked for any sign of sarcasm on her face, finding none he continued. “I believe we need to get closer to figure out who is still in the tent. We have to make sure they have not moved Abrie.”

  “That is not a plan.”

  “It is the best thing I have.”

  He was not a mercenary planner. This was the first stealth mission he had ever been on.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” Malik retorted, feeling the heat coming up in his cheeks.

  Mollie shrugged. “More of the loud violent type of mercenary.”

  Malik was about to reply again when something caught his eye. It was a line of six horses trotting into the clearing. They were being greeted by Simbre and Zimbre. Malik squinted against the low light.

  “Sweet Tongue,” he said, his heart jumping into his throat.

  Mollie shifted. “Yes, it is.”

  Malik would have loved to be wrong, but the man’s body made it hard to mista
ke. Even in the dark, his scarred and mangled skin stuck out like a beacon.

  “What is he doing here?” Malik asked.

  He didn’t expect an answer. How could Mollie know why Sweet Tongue was there? Why were the Borrowers not running rampant and scared? The last time Sweet Tongue had been within range of a Borrower’s arrow he had gotten shot at. Now Malik watched him shake the hand of the man’s brother who shot at him.

  “I don’t know,” Mollie answered.

  Malik moved away from their small hiding spot. He wouldn’t get anything accomplished hiding in the shadows. He needed to get closer to the tent. Malik used the shadows and low light to his advantage. There was little chance of getting close enough to do damage before Simbre or Sweet Tongue saw him.

  There were no outlying buildings to hide in, but Malik saw another way. Timbre had said to stay far away from the sickly of the borrowers, but Malik saw no other choice. He pulled his shirt collar over his mouth, thinking maybe it was a small protection from the diseases. He crawled on his belly until he reached the beds and then moved to the front. None of the patients noticed he was there. They were all busy dying and had no time to worry about what he did.

  Malik looked to the mules from his vantage point. If he could get to his bow, he could take out Sweet Tongue. Then there would be the five men he brought and Zimbre to worry about. Abrie may have been fast enough to make seven shots in a blink, but Malik would be lucky to get one good shot off before someone sliced him in half.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Mollie said.

  Malik almost jumped up out of his skin. Mollie followed him without his noticing. He tried to control his breathing. He hadn’t let out a squeal loud enough to alert Sweet Tongue and company that he was nearby.

  “Shouldn’t do that to people when they are trying to hide.”

  Mollie scooted in closer to him.

  “Don’t be such a pansy.”

  Malik was ready to give an insult back, but Mollie elbowed him in the ribs. “Be quiet, they are going into the tent.”

  Sure, as rain, the group with Sweet Tongue got off their horses and headed toward the tent. Simbre and Zimbre guided them like they were long last family.

  Malik felt like an idiot thinking this woman had ever been trustworthy.

  When the group disappeared into the tent, Malik stood running to the mules. There was no reason to be silent. The group headed toward the back to find Abrie. Malik would grab his bow and then do what he could to save his friend.

  “Stop!” Mollie was next to him, placing her hand on his chest. “Do you have a death wish?”

  Malik had no choice. “I have to get into that tent.”

  “I want to save Abrie too,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “If we die though no one will help him.”

  She was right. Sweet Tongue had said he would take Abrie hostage. Abrie wouldn’t die here. He had other plans for the old bard. Malik still grabbed his bow. He would take any opportunity to get revenge for his village and to save Abrie.

  “We wait by the entrance and take them out when they exit then.”

  Mollie pulled him around to the back of the tent. “Tents are not walls, Malik. We can get closer and listen to what they have planned.”

  Malik fought against her pulling, but her words made sense when he thought about them. He let her tug him around the tent toward the back. Mollie only had a vague idea where Abrie was being kept. Malik had seen him, so he took over the guiding.

  Coming to the edge of the tent, Malik heard voices. Mollie had been right in thinking the cloth wouldn’t hold in their words.

  “That is the man we are looking for,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Malik tried not to imagine the look of joy.

  “Then as we discussed, you will get the man and my son Zimbre will become the next member of the Tempre Warriors,” Simbre said.

  That was the exchange. Abrie for a spot in the famed mercenary group. Malik figured Zimbre would fit well with the thugs from the Tempre.

  “That was the deal,” Sweet Tongue said. “Your other son,” Sweet Tongue paused.

  “Timbre,” Simbre filled in for him.

  “Yes, Timbre,” Sweet Tongue chided, “is he willing to uphold the bargain?”

  Malik hadn’t seen Timbre for some time. He wondered if the Borrower knew anything about the exchange, or the deal he had brought them to. Then again, Simbre was his mother, so he doubted it was too much of a secret.

  “Timbre is a soft-hearted boy.”

  Sweet Tongue cleared his throat. “He will not approve?”

  “It is of no concern to him.”

  There was no discussion for a few moments. On the other side of the tent walls, it felt like the silence stretched for a lifetime. Malik tried to control his heartbeat, afraid he would miss words if it didn’t stop throbbing in his head.

  “I see,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Malik thought Sweet Tongue’s voice sounded less than pleased with Simbre’s reply.

  “I do not enjoy loose ends behind me,” Sweet Tongue sighed. “I was hoping this could be a budding relationship between us, however, we can’t always get what we wish for.”

  “What do you” Simbre started but never finished. Her last noise was a grunt then Malik heard something hitting the ground. He couldn’t see Simbre’s shock, or the life leaving her eyes, but he needed little imagination to know that someone had driven through her with a sword.

  There was no commotion in the tent. Malik would have assumed Zimbre would have leaped to his mother’s defense, but there were no sounds of a struggle.

  “Did you kill your brother like we asked?”

  “Just like you asked,” Zimbre replied.

  Malik felt the sickness rise into the pits of his stomach. Zimbre had killed Timbre in cold blood to be a Tempre. He had let Sweet Tongue kill his mother or maybe he had done it himself, Malik wasn’t sure.

  “Grab the old man,” Sweet Tongue instructed someone.

  Malik again in time of need found that he froze to the ground. There were no heroics. No great shooting that saved the day. Abrie grunted when someone hoisted him from the bed. Malik heard footsteps trailing away.

  Sweet Tongue yelled loud enough to be heard on the other side of the tent. Then the horses galloped away.

  Malik turned to Mollie. He could feel the tears in his eyes. Her face mirrored his own. They had both failed. They allowed Sweet Tongue to take Abrie away.

  Malik felt like his heart would burst. His body trembled with fear. Heat licked his face and drew Malik back to the present.

  “Sweet Tongue set the tent on fire,” Mollie said, pulling Malik up to his feet.

  Malik stumbled. His instincts took over, and he followed Mollie as she ran for the forest. There was no use staying in the camp, but something stopped him.

  “We have to save the mules.”

  On the front side of the medical tent, Malik could see that fires moving across the Borrower’s tents. By morning there would be no supplies or tents left. Malik tried not to think about them. He had to save himself. He grabbed the tethers of the two panicking mules. They slowed seeing Malik’s familiar face.

  “Let’s go girls.” Malik pulled them toward Mollie who waited at the tree line.

  When Malik reached her, he turned, taking one last look at the camp. He wasn’t looking at the fire, he tried his best to make out Sweet Tongue but couldn’t. Abrie was gone.

  Chapter 17

  Tales from Twin Rocks

  Twin Rocks was a quaint village of about four hundred people. The village center sloped downward so much it was almost too steep for a cart. The villagers of Twin Rocks had smaller, stout horses they called Rocka. These horses had no trouble making it up and down the rough terrain. Malik wasn’t interested in the steep sloping village. He didn’t want to know its rich history, even when the guard at the gates tried to inform him of the vast knowledge Malik could learn from the villagers.

  Malik moved past the cattle and
up to the namesake of the village. Two gigantic rocks painted with large text inscriptions. On one side was a detailed description of the people who lived inside the cobblestoned fences. On the other side, was a detailed description of how it came to be part of the Kingdom of Luberg. Malik wasn’t interested in reading either.

  His body hurt from the long walk through bramble and sticks. Tics, and Saint’s knew what other crawling creatures covered his body. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, his stomach growled from hunger, and he grew annoyed at everything.

  “If you are not interested in our history, what brings you to our village? We do not allow riffraff or vagabonds into our city streets. The villagers of Twin Rocks are a simple people and wish no trouble.”

  Malik wished to punch the guard in the face. To tell the guard to take his self-pretentious words back to the Saint’s court he had come from. Instead, Malik rolled his shoulders, letting the tension drop. Then he looked out past the cobbled fence and the two mammoth rocks into the village. Down that long slopping road, he could see the building he wished to be in. The second largest building in the village, second only to the Saint’s Courthouse. The inn called Rock House Tavern. Malik didn’t give two hoots about its name. It could be named Saint’s Butthole and he would have still run to it. He needed a place to sit down, a place to drown his fears, and a place to forget what he had seen the night before.

  “We are just looking for a quiet place to rest for the evening,” Mollie answered.

  Mollie reached to Sally, who was carrying the four lute cases that were the last possessions left to them.

  “These are our mules Sally and Callie.” Mollie pulled the lyre case down. Opening one of them, she showed the guard the instrument. “We will pay for our stay with music and stories.”

  The guard looked over the lyre with a sense of pleasure and excitement. “We don’t get many musical acts this close to the Opallum border. I am sure some folk down at the inn would love to see you play. If you are playing this evening, I would love nothing more than to come by to see you.”

  The guard fumbled and flirted with a clumsy manner. Malik couldn’t fault him, Mollie was a beautiful woman. Malik also had very little room to judge him for his stuttering attempt.