Ban awoke to the muffled sounds of distant cries and the acrid scent of burning wood. He was utterly exhausted by the time morning came. Last night he’d been struggling non-stop since the moment he’d regained consciousness, and although he was unable to talk, screaming into the rug had helped him vent. From the looks of it he must have finally passed out from exhaustion in the night. They’d taken the rag out of his mouth at some point while he slept, probably for the best as he didn’t fancy accidentally choking in his sleep.
His head throbbed painfully, and the realization of his helplessness hit him like a physical blow. He tried to move, only to find his hands still tightly bound behind his back.
The clearing where he lay was bathed in the eerie glow of the dying embers from his grandad's cottage. The once-happy memories of training sessions and simple joys now lay shattered amidst the charred remains.
The shadows cast by the flickering fire seemed to dance in mocking celebration of the destruction. As Ban struggled to sit up, his eyes fell on the remnants of the cottage, and a surge of grief overwhelmed him. Grandad John was gone. The warmth of his guidance extinguished by the ruthless invaders. Dread settled over Ban as he remembered the ominous figures, the arrows, and the laughter that had heralded the destruction of his world. The once-tranquil Besart was now a haunting graveyard of memories. Those bastards would pay for what they’d done.
His thoughts shifted to the villagers, to Adin, and to the others who had, by this point, likely been made aware of the invaders. Were they still alive? Ban's heart beat in his chest like a galloping stallion, the unknown fate of his friends fuelling his desperation.
As Ban struggled to come to terms with the reality of his situation, a raspy voice interrupted his thoughts. "Boy, you're awake."
Ban's eyes darted towards the source of the voice, and he saw an older man sitting nearby. He hadn’t noticed him before as he was slightly behind him and could only be seen by looking over his shoulder, his weathered face etched with lines and big bags under his eyes. The man's hands were also bound, and his clothes bore the unmistakable signs of the recent turmoil.
"Who... who are you?" Ban managed to stammer, his parched throat resisting the words.
The older man offered a weak smile. "Name's Ealdred. I was on my way to the village to sell my wares when those devils attacked. They got me eventually."
Ban nodded, absorbing the grim truth that he wasn't alone in his suffering. "I'm Ban. My grandad... they killed him."
Ealdred's gaze softened. "I’ve been here for a while and heard one of the big bastards bragging about it. It was a cold-blooded act, but sadly, I don’t think our fate will be much better.”
Ban's breath caught in his throat as he spotted the grim procession of his fellow villagers being led towards the raiders' camp. Among the villagers, Ban recognized familiar faces – Elara cradling Liam in her arms and a few of his childhood friends, their eyes now vacant, robbed of the innocence that once lit up their expressions. Bound and dejected, their faces mirrored the anguish that had befallen Besart. Some were weeping silently, and others cast pleading glances at the once-vibrant village, Ban could smell the smoke and was certain that by now the village was likely reduced to smouldering ruins.
“They’ve been coming and going all morning. My guess is they’re organising us and taking people up in groups. We're close to the Shandar border. They don’t have the same disdain for the slave trade over there."
Ban's heart sank further, the weight of his grief becoming almost unbearable. "We have to do something. We can't just sit here."
Ealdred chuckled weakly. "Doing something, boy, isn't as easy as saying it. We're bound, helpless, and outnumbered. They took people to be sold as slaves. That's the harsh reality." Ealdred was looking at his feet unable to meet Ban’s gaze.
All Ban could do was clench in frustration. He couldn't accept the idea of being helpless, of succumbing to the fate these raiders had planned for them. "There has to be a way to escape, to rescue everyone."
Ban felt the weight of Ealdred's gaze. "I've lived long enough to know that sometimes, survival is all you can hope for. Revenge might be a tempting thought, but it often leads to more pain."
Ban clenched his fists, his determination unyielding. "I won't just survive. I'll find a way to free our people, and those bastards will pay for what they've done."
Ealdred sighed, recognizing the burning glint in Ban's eyes. "You're young, full of fire. Just be careful not to let that fire consume you. To be honest, I can’t see us getting out of here."
Ban's mind raced. The memories of his grandad's teachings echoed in his mind, urging him to be smart and to use his head before his heart.
He tried to take stock of his situation. The raiders' makeshift camp sprawled across the rugged terrain just outside of the village, a chaotic cluster of hastily erected tents and crude shelters. A haphazard arrangement of stolen goods and spoils of war adorned the camp, revealing a collection of valuables seized from the village with a few people loading these into carts. Tattered banners bearing no emblem of honour flapped lazily in the wind, casting a shadow over the desolation that surrounded them.
The captives, now bound and subdued, scattered in designated areas, their faces etched with despair. The atmosphere echoed with the coarse laughter of the raiders, their cruel revelry punctuating the solemnity of the captured villagers. In the centre of the camp, a flickering fire served as a crude hearth, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the faces of those who had fallen victim to the raider's ruthless campaign.
The situation looked grim, the bright side was it didn’t look like the slavers had any magic users as part of their group or they wouldn’t have bothered tying them up. He surveyed the surroundings for any sign of hope, but nothing remained of his village and passersby were scarce this time of year. He took a deep breath before panic set in again and forced himself to take in his surroundings.
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Among the wild grass, his eyes caught a glint of something. Ban softly shuffled towards it, all the while casting vigilant glances around him, ensuring he hadn’t been observed, his hands still tightly bound. As he drew closer, he grabbed the object in his hand, thanking the stars. It was what he expected – a stone; from the feel in his hands, he could tell its edges were worn but potentially effective.
Due to his hands being tied, he had to mauver the stone using the tip of his fingers. He tried moving the stone back and forth a few times but realised he would never get free this way. There just wasn’t enough strength in his fingers to break the bonds. He shuffled a little further with the stone in his hands until he was up against a tree trunk. Using the tree as leverage, he wedged the stone as well as he could between the tree bark and his restraints and started moving his arms up and down, tearing at the cords that held him.
Each movement had to be deliberate and silent, his focus unwavering as he worked to free himself from captivity. After a while, his arms started to cramp from the awkward motion. It felt like he’d been at it for hours, although he knew from the sun barely an hour had passed. The camp buzzed with the activity of the raiders, their attention diverted by the chaos of transporting stolen goods and managing the captives. Or so he thought.
“Come on you slob! I told you to put those two with the rest of them, we’re moving soon. It’s bloody stupid to go through all this trouble to leave some behind, don’t leave money on the table!” He heard and saw the men approaching from behind the tree and was instantly still.
Frozen with fear, he took a deep breath and tried to steel his nerves. He needed to conceal the stone, still wedged between the tree trunk and his restraints. He pressed his back against the rough bark, attempting to blend into the shadows, praying that the darkness would conceal his desperate escape attempt.
The raiders, distracted by their own bickering, hadn't yet noticed Ban but he could see they were headed for Ealdred and were looking around. He strained his ears, listening intently to their conversation, realizing that his salvation hinged on the thickness of the looming shadows. As the men approached, Ban's heart raced in tandem with the rustling of leaves above. The stone, still nestled in his hands, was now his only hope for freedom. The raider's voices grew louder.
He heard one of the raiders grunt, "What are you doing all the way over there?" The question was directed at him, Ban realized, as the raider closed the distance between them. Thinking quickly, Ban decided to feign exhaustion. He slumped against the tree, as if too weak to join the other captives. The raider, momentarily distracted by the ongoing argument, seemed to buy into Ban's act.
"You lazy fool," the raider spat, addressing his companion. "Just grab him and let's get this over with."
Ban's heart pounded in his chest as the other raider grumbled but complied. With a rough yank, Ban was pulled away from the tree, and for a moment, panic gripped him. Yet, the stone remained unnoticed, still tucked between his bonds.
As he stumbled towards the group of captives, Ban's mind raced. He needed to bide his time, to wait for the right moment to resume his escape. He could feel the rope was frayed and didn’t have much left before it gave out. The raucous laughter of the raiders mingled with the cries of despair and whimpers from his fellow villagers. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the flickering fire casting grotesque shadows on the faces of those who had fallen victim to the raider's ruthless campaign.
Ban swallowed his fear, focusing on the rhythmic motion of the stone against the cords. The raider's grip on his collar was tight, but Ban knew this would be his best chance, if they made it to the other captives he would be under watch non-stop. With every step, he calculated the movement, timing the desperate struggle for freedom with the uproar around him.
Suddenly, a loud clash erupted between two raiders nearby, drawing the attention of everyone in the camp. In that chaotic moment, Ban seized his opportunity. With a surge of strength, he manoeuvred the stone with precision and a strong yank, tearing through the remaining bonds.
The sensation of liberation was overwhelming as the cords finally gave way. Ban made his body go limp as if accidentally tripping and managed to slip away from the raider's grasp as his weight became too much for his assailant’s poor grip, blending into the confusion that had erupted around the camp. His heart raced, not just from the physical exertion but from the realization that he was now on borrowed time.
Without even a moment's thought, he propelled himself using both arms and legs into a mid-stance position to start the fastest sprint he’d ever done. He looked up to see Besart’s forest right in front of him and didn’t hesitate to go straight for it. He could feel the raider breathing down his neck as he ran with all his might.
With every step he took, he could feel the uneven terrain beneath his feet, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he sprinted towards the sanctuary of Besart's forest. The raider's shouts echoed behind him, a mix of frustration and determination that only fuelled Ban's desperate escape.
As the looming forest drew nearer, Ban's legs burned with exertion, but he couldn't afford to slow down. The trees became a chaotic blur as he plunged into the dense foliage, relying on instinct and memory to navigate the familiar terrain.
The raider's footsteps echoed dangerously close, and Ban knew he had to outpace him before attempting any diversion. He chanced a glance over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the determined raider closing the gap. Panic surged, but Ban pushed himself harder, his lungs gasping for air.
The forest, once a tranquil haven, now served as both refuge and obstacle. Ban darted between trees, his agile movements allowing him to navigate the terrain more efficiently. He could hear the raider stumbling behind him, the dense vegetation proving to be a hindrance to the pursuer.
Without warning, Ban veered off the main path, relying on his knowledge of hidden trails known only to the villagers of Besart. The raider, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt change, struggled to maintain the pursuit. Ban's breaths came in ragged gasps as he zigzagged through the trees, using every bit of cover to evade capture.
As he distanced himself from the raider, Ban knew he couldn't let his guard down. The forest, while offering refuge, also concealed its own dangers. He slowed his pace, transitioning from a sprint to a cautious jog, keeping an eye on his surroundings for any sign of pursuit. The dense foliage overhead filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Ban's senses heightened as he listened for any unnatural sound that might betray the raider's presence. He could still hear distant shouts, but they grew fainter with each step.
Ban needed to find a safe place to regroup and assess the situation. The familiar landmarks of Besart's forest became his guide, leading him to a concealed alcove where the dense foliage provided cover. He crouched in the shadows, his breaths slowly steadying as he waited, straining to detect any signs of pursuit.
Minutes passed, feeling like an eternity, but the forest remained eerily quiet. The raider, it seemed, had lost the trail. Ban's heart pounded in his chest as relief washed over him. Yet, as he took a moment to gather himself, the weight of his actions settled in.
Tears welled in Ban's eyes as he mourned the loss of so much of his life. After some time had passed, he wiped away the tears. Ban knew that he couldn't afford to dwell on guilt. The fate of his village still hung in the balance, and he had to press on, to rescue those he could and avenge those he had lost. The journey ahead remained treacherous, but Ban steeled himself for the challenges that lay in wait.