Part 4 Bandits

Daeghun didn't say anything when I finally dragged myself home, sleepy and sated, but he gave me one of those cool appraising looks and I knew I had disappointed him. He had cleaned my armor for me though. I tried not to sigh and went upstairs to my cold lonely bed. I didn't have to be cold and alone. Retta had already hinted that there was no need to wait for the cleric, that she would be perfectly satisfied if Lorne and I made our vows before the house shrine. It was a perfectly respectable custom. We could do it anytime. Anytime we wished. Now, even. Lorne gave me a questioning look and I felt myself turn hot with embarrassment. They had even discussed changing bedrooms, so that Lorne and I would have the larger bed. They had worked it all out. All I had to do was…agree to it. I don't know if I'm stubborn or stupid (or both) but I just didn't feel ready to deal with the idea of marriage yet. On the walk home, I even considered talking to Daeghun about it. I could have really used some advice but after the look he gave me—no.

In the morning, Daeghun had a new task.

"The village council has decided to send to High Cliff for a shipment of grain and salt," he said. "They are collecting the gold for it now. They have asked me to carry the gold to High Cliff and to help protect the shipment of supplies on its way back here. Bandits have become increasingly bold along the coast road.

"Will you come with me?" he asked. "There are few I would trust more to guard my back."

I had been begging my father for years to take me on patrol with him. Dealing with lizardfolk, wild animal attacks, and bandits was all part of his role as West Harbor's ranger, but always he had refused to take me after bandits. "Make no mistake, my daughter," he once told me, "Dealing judgment and death wounds the spirit. I would not see you take up this task just yet." Perhaps now that Lorne had made me a woman, hah, he thought I was up to the task at last.

"Of course I'll come."

This was to be a swift trip, so we packed trail food instead of planning to live off the land. Since we wouldn't be hunting, I debated weapons and decided to bring my falchion instead of my bow. Daeghun frowned but he didn't deny my logic. I'd never be the archer he was, and the falchion let me make the most of my assets, speed and strength. If we had to fight, I'd feel better with a blade.

I suspected his biggest objection was that Lorne had given it to me. Lorne had several falchions, gifts from his absent father, and I was the only member of the militia who would work out with him with the big blades. He had taught me to love them as he did.

The rain stopped about the time we passed the Weeping Willow Inn. I wondered what it would be like to sleep in an inn, a real inn, with hot food, cool drinks, hot bath, cool sheets. Perhaps I would find out, one day. The sky was still overcast, the forest floor still wet, but at least the rain had stopped. We ghosted through the forest, roughly parallel to the coast road, moving swiftly and silently. We saw beasts but no men. The trip to High Cliff was uneventful.

West Harbor's gold bought guards as well as the grain and the salt. The village elder, however, was very concerned. A local farmer had just found the remains of a small caravan that had left for Neverwinter a couple of days earlier. All of their guards had been found slain except for one, a woman named Jain, and the merchant herself was missing as well. Daeghun suggested that we scout out the location of these bandits, or at least ensure they were not along our path, before the wagons moved out of town. The elder gratefully agreed. Daeghun added something very softly to the elder, and he nodded in return.

Once out of town, I asked how we were going to find the bandits. They could be anywhere.

"A difficult task, for two," he agreed. "We may get lucky however. I asked the elder to spread the rumor that our caravan leaves tomorrow. If the bandits have an informer in town, we might follow him to their camp tonight."

"You think someone in town is telling the bandits about caravans? So the bandits are ready for them?"

"Very typical behavior, I fear. Sometimes the guards themselves are involved. These bandits may have spies all along the coast road."

"That's wicked!"

"Yes."

"In West Harbor as well?"

"Perhaps," he said grimly and looked away.

"How will we recognize the informer?"

"Pray to Tymora."

We found a patch of high ground where we could survey the paths out of the village. We spent a long dull afternoon watching the road. High Cliff was quite a bit larger than West Harbor, but it certainly was no Neverwinter and this latest attack had people scared. There was very little traffic in or out. I don't have Daeghun's capacity for sitting motionless endlessly, but I did my best.

Near dusk, we saw a lone traveler head north. A farmer headed home from the tavern? Maybe.

"I will follow him," he said quietly. "Wait here and watch. I will come back when I can."

"Okay."

Once Daeghun had left, I was free to fidget, but just as the skies turned dark, I spotted another lone traveler. He, also, took the north road. A very odd time to start a journey, I thought, so I followed.

I counted about twenty bandits in the clearing. Many of them were sleeping. There were also sentries hidden in the woods surrounding the campsite and I'm sure I didn't find them all. My night vision is good but that doesn't mean I would spot someone well hidden. Still, I had a big advantage over normal humans. These men had been camping here for some days, it seemed, and planned to stay longer, judging by the amount of ash around the fire, the fact they had dug privies and the size of the stack of firewood. There was a tent set up by the edge of the clearing but most of the men slept in bedrolls near the large cook fire or scattered around the site. How did I know they were bandits? They had prisoners. I saw two women tied up under a wagon. Torn clothes and bruised faces did not bode well for the treatment they had received. They looked desperately tired. I stood in the shadow of a tree, torn by indecision. I needed to go back to High Cliff and wait for Daeghun. That was the only smart thing to do. But I couldn't force myself to leave those two women. I thought I could probably reach the wagon unseen and cut them loose. But would they be capable of following me out undetected?

I heard a step behind me about two heartbeats before the quarterstaff slammed me so hard in the back that my face hit the ground. That first blow knocked the breath out of me and the kicks that followed didn't help me get it back. Someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up, at the same time twisting my arm behind me painfully. The guy with the staff had pointy ears. Probably the one who spotted me, damned half-elf.

The men dragged me towards the fire.

"Blane," called the half-elf. "Got a visitor."

A big grizzled man crawled out of the tent. There was gray in his beard and his eyes were very cold and scary. He stalked towards me. I don't think of myself as a coward but he was…formidable.

"Who are you, girl?"

"Does it matter?" I asked. "I'm just a hunter. Why have you people attacked me?"

"Ah, a Harborman," he said. His lips curved up but I wouldn't really call it a smile. "I haven't seen one of you in a while but the accent is hard to miss." It was, and he had it too. I'd never seen this man in my life. Who was he?

"She's probably not alone," Blane said. "Get everyone up. We'll move camp tonight."

"She had this." The half-elf handed my sword belt to Blane, who raised his eyebrows and pulled my falchion from the scabbard.

"Not exactly a hunting weapon, is it?" he said. "Unless you are hunting men." He turned my sword to the firelight. "I know this blade," he said slowly. "Where did you get it?"

His eyes bored down into me. Gods, he was tall. He came closer and suddenly grabbed me by my hair and forced me to look up at him. "Where did you get it?"

"A gift," I gasped. He shook me and yanked me by the hair so that I rose up on my toes to escape the pain.

"You lie," he said. "My son would never have given my falchion away. Not to anyone. Not to a wench."

Oh, sweet Lathander, no. My expression must have given me away because his eyes sharpened in interest.

"Know my son, do you? Do you know who I am?"

"You can't be Lorne's father."

"I can and I am," he said. He laughed and looked me up and down. "Let's see what kind of a wench my son would give a good blade to. Strip her," he told his men. Four of them held me and yanked at my leather, cutting the straps to get it off me. I fought like a wild thing until someone punched me hard on the jaw. I didn't lose consciousness but I faded out for a bit and when I came back to myself, I was spread-eagled on the wet ground.

"Not bad," Blane said. "Not bad at all." He tossed my sword down and unbuckled his belt. "Let's see what you think of my blade." He opened his pants and grinned at me. Several things happened all about the same time. I screamed with outrage and shockingly bright white light burst out of my hands. I heard a bow let fly and a meaty thunk and I saw the tip of an arrowhead poke out of Blane Starling's chest. I had no doubt that it was Daeghun. The men holding me fell back, blinded by my light. I rolled and before Blane finished dropping to his knees, before he even stopped grinning, I surged to my feet with the falchion in my hands. It felt good in my hands. Arrows sang and my sword sang and between us, we slaughtered them all.

Near the wagon, where the two women cowered, one of the bandits, young, fell to my feet and begged for his life. When I looked in his eyes, I saw only fear of his own death, no regret, no understanding and so I killed him while he clutched at my ankles with tears on his cheeks. His blood ran hot on my bare legs.

"Don't be afraid," I told the women. "We're here to help you." They blinked in my light and they crawled towards me.

"Who are you?" one asked. "Are you an angel?"

"I'm Rose."

The light faded out of my hands. I cut their bonds and helped them up. Daeghun came out of the shadows.

"Are you hurt?" he asked me.

"I don't know." I was bloody but I wasn't feeling much of anything.

"I didn't do what you told me," I said. "I'm sorry."

"It happens."

I saw the sorrow in his eyes, and I was drawn into it. His sorrow ran slow and deep like the river runs through the Mere, shaded by ancient cypress trees, their branches dripping with moss. Like that river, his sorrow was no dead thing, but carried a life of its own, secret perhaps, but with its own ebbs and flows, joys and terrors. I realized we were more alike at that moment than we had ever been. Now I was a killer too. I drank down some of his sorrow and it was sweet and terrible. We didn't hug. We didn't touch. We didn't need to.

I found some clothes that fit amongst the bandits' gear. I found my belt and my boots. I cleaned off the blood and I wasn't hurt bad. I really should have been hurt more than that. It didn't make sense that I wasn't hurt but I was thankful. I had a bad feeling that it was Tyr I had to thank. I didn't want to owe a debt to the Maimed God. I didn't love Him. I didn't want to love Him. How could one love justice? Justice was to be feared.

"Well, nine damns," I said. "Look what they did to my armor."

"We can repair it," my father said.