"Raconteur," said the king, "this tale of yours is beginning to sound rather familiar."
"Well, my lord, I trained at the famous Crystal Glen bard's college. It's possible you may have heard it from one of my contemporaries." Replied the raconteur with a smile.
"Very well, that could be so. Continue, if you will." The raconteur nodded and resumed his tale.
*****
Jim woke in the morning and stretched luxuriously, yawning and taking in his surroundings, bounding to his feet as he realised he slept through all the watches. "Quint! Quint, why did you let me sleep through my watch?" When no reply was forthcoming, he looked about the campsite once again. There were no signs of a struggle, yet it was eerily quiet. The only sound was the wind blowing through the boughs of neighbouring trees and carrying the same scent of decay as they had found the previous evening. "Oh, God!" Said Jim, running towards the source of the smell, only to find old carrion from a beast's kill. Stepping towards the carcass, he was suddenly jerked upwards through the air by his feet and hit his head against the ground. The last thing he saw as his eyes closed was a large, armoured figure striding through the underbrush and drawing his sword. Then, only darkness.
*****
Quint watched on in mute horror as his companions were captured by the mysterious figure each in their own turn. Quint himself had been captured shortly after the other two had fallen asleep, a strong smelling rag pressed over his nose and mouth, causing him to pass out without a sound. Soon thereafter, he awoke, bound hand and foot to a tree with a rough gag pushed into his mouth, in time to see Tom being pinned to the ground by a man in dark clothing who kept him in a chokehold until he lay as limp as a boned fish. Tom awoke near dawn alongside Quint, bound in a similar manner. Working his gag free, he hissed at their captor: "Aren't you a brave one, taking men down from behind? You'll have hell on your hands when he wakes up." He indicated the sleeping figure of Jim with a jerk of his head.
"In that case," said their captor with a sneer in his voice, "perhaps I had better prepare myself accordingly." As he slipped away into the dawn's half light, they heard a menacing chuckle coming from him which made chills run up their spines. Half an hour later, they saw Jim leaping up, and heard the faint sound of him calling Quint's name in desperation.
"Huh, bastard never even thought of me." Muttered Tom into his beard. Quint grunted, unable to remove his gag because of how tightly it was tied. Within minutes, the mysterious man returned with Jim slung over his shoulder.
"Not so difficult to capture, is your version of hell. Almost makes me wonder why the duke put such a bounty on your heads. But, weren't there four of you?" He asked.
"Piss off, princess." Spat Tom, while Quint sat with a mournful look on his face.
"Ah, " said the man, "Always difficult to leave a companion behind. You have my condolences." Quint gave a grunt as his response, while Tom just glared daggers at the unknown man. He removed his helmet, to reveal a face covered by a dark leather half mask. His eyes, however, were filled with a sadness and compassion which surprised both Tom and Quint. Leaning down, he reached toward Quint and undid his gag while saying: "That would explain why you were so easy to capture. Grief and weariness will be your greatest enemies in your adventures... What exactly are they?" he asked.
"We fight for what is right, and try to empower the people wherever possible. We're trying to rouse the towns against the duke so that they may have their due." Responded Quint in his forthright manner. The unknown man looked surprised at that revelation.
"That's a bold venture for such a small group. You might need an extra hands from someone with likeminded goals to fill up your little party... If you would have me, that is." Quint looked at him with guarded suspicion and began to speak. The words caught in his throat and made him cough, so Tom took that as a cue and launched a tirade: "Listen here, shiny pants. You were ready to hand us over to the duke for nothing but a fat reward. Why should we trust you and take you to the... the... " Tom squinted at the sigil on the man's half plate armour, identifying him as a watch commander from the resistance.
"The..?" prompted the man.
"What's your detachment number and callsign, commander?" Asked Tom.
"I don't - " Began the man.
"Cut the crap! I can see your sigil!" Barked Tom.
"First lieutenant of the watch, forest grove detachment. I returned from a scouting mission to find the base up in flames. Whoever did that will pay, I swear it." He said. Looking up, he continued: "You can call me Dart, by the way."
"Well, Fart..." Began a voice by his feet.
"Dart!" He corrected in fury.
"Whatever. Mind untying us so we can actually get somewhere? I'm commander James Barker of Lake District, along with captain Thomas Rover. Perhaps you've heard of us?" Asked Jim, with a smirk on his face.
"Your sigils..." Began Dart.
"Were confiscated when we were sent to prison. We were expecting a rescue from the forest detachment on our way to the gallows, but only Quint Fellowes, master at arms of Lake District, came to help." Said Tom icily.
"Lucky for us, too." Said Jim. "Otherwise we would be hanging with flies in our mouths. No matter, though. We're free. Or soon will be..." He said with a meaningful look towards his bindings.
"In that case," said their captor with a sneer in his voice, "perhaps I had better prepare myself accordingly." As he slipped away into the dawn's half light, they heard a menacing chuckle coming from him which made chills run up their spines. Half an hour later, they saw Jim leaping up, and heard the faint sound of him calling Quint's name in desperation.
"Huh, bastard never even thought of me." Muttered Tom into his beard. Quint grunted, unable to remove his gag because of how tightly it was tied. Within minutes, the mysterious man returned with Jim slung over his shoulder.
"Not so difficult to capture, is your version of hell. Almost makes me wonder why the duke put such a bounty on your heads. But, weren't there four of you?" He asked.
"Piss off, princess." Spat Tom, while Quint sat with a mournful look on his face.
"Ah, " said the man, "Always difficult to leave a companion behind. You have my condolences." Quint gave a grunt as his response, while Tom just glared daggers at the unknown man. He removed his helmet, to reveal a face covered by a dark leather half mask. His eyes, however, were filled with a sadness and compassion which surprised both Tom and Quint. Leaning down, he reached toward Quint and undid his gag while saying: "That would explain why you were so easy to capture. Grief and weariness will be your greatest enemies in your adventures... What exactly are they?" he asked.
"We fight for what is right, and try to empower the people wherever possible. We're trying to rouse the towns against the duke so that they may have their due." Responded Quint in his forthright manner. The unknown man looked surprised at that revelation.
"That's a bold venture for such a small group. You might need an extra hands from someone with likeminded goals to fill up your little party... If you would have me, that is." Quint looked at him with guarded suspicion and began to speak. The words caught in his throat and made him cough, so Tom took that as a cue and launched a tirade: "Listen here, shiny pants. You were ready to hand us over to the duke for nothing but a fat reward. Why should we trust you and take you to the... the... " Tom squinted at the sigil on the man's half plate armour, identifying him as a watch commander from the resistance.
"The..?" prompted the man.
"What's your detachment number and callsign, commander?" Asked Tom.
"I don't - " Began the man.
"Cut the crap! I can see your sigil!" Barked Tom.
"First lieutenant of the watch, forest grove detachment. I returned from a scouting mission to find the base up in flames. Whoever did that will pay, I swear it." He said. Looking up, he continued: "You can call me Dart, by the way."
"Well, Fart..." Began a voice by his feet.
"Dart!" He corrected in fury.
"Whatever. Mind untying us so we can actually get somewhere? I'm commander James Barker of Lake District, along with captain Thomas Rover. Perhaps you've heard of us?" Asked Jim, with a smirk on his face.
"Your sigils..." Began Dart.
"Were confiscated when we were sent to prison. We were expecting a rescue from the forest detachment on our way to the gallows, but only Quint Fellowes, master at arms of Lake District, came to help." Said Tom icily.
"Lucky for us, too." Said Jim. "Otherwise we would be hanging with flies in our mouths. No matter, though. We're free. Or soon will be..." He said with a meaningful look towards his bindings.
No comments:
Post a Comment