Chapter Eight: Final Orders

His first reaction was to experience a deep feeling of shame. Rook was worried that Thayn had seen him collecting up all the dropped items from both the attackers and his fellow mercenaries. The fear of what the old man might do in response to his actions brought up made him instinctually think of fleeing right then.

Then, he noticed Thayn’s condition.

The movement he had seen did, in fact, come from the old mercenary, but he was far from alright. There was a giant pool of blood under the man, poured from giant wounds all over his body. His face appeared to be burned badly, and Rook could see that his eyelids were all but sealed shut.

Despite the terrible injuries, he managed to keep himself upright, supported by the grip on his giant axe. Bodies surrounded him. Rook took note of each one, finally catching sight of the limp body of Presia, the groups leader, slumped against the entrance of her tent, arrows piercing her chest.

“Old man,” he croaked. The first words he had spoken aloud since he had come back to this site of carnage. His eyes quickly darted about as he checked again for anyone still moving around the camp.

A hoarse voice came from the blackened lips of the fatally injured man, followed by a gusher of blood and strained, wheezing breaths.

“Blackie? Is that you?”

“Aye, yes sir. It’s me.”

More coughing and wheezing, then finally, Thayn continued speaking.

“You made it? Where is everyone else? The brothers? The boss?”

Rook paused, unsure how to respond at first.

“I’m sorry…”

Then he saw the old man’s jaw clench and his hand tighten around the handle of his axe.

“Willis?”

“I don’t know; gone, I think. I don’t see him anywhere… The mounts are gone.”

“Damn, There must be more of them nearby. I thought I got him, but he’s a slippery bastard.”

More coughing and blood. Thayn’s voice was weakening. Small rivers of red stained his armor black.

“Boy, you need to get out of here. They will be back soon. He wouldn’t leave behind the cargo. The bubals are still there, right?”

Rook looked back, fearful that he might see more attackers standing there. For now, however, the camp was still empty and quiet.

“I’m sorry. I was a fool. I knew that kid was rotten, but-“

Another fit of coughing stopped him from speaking. When it finally stopped, the old man seemed to have realized something. He spoke quickly, and with a determined authority in his voice now.

“Listen. The cargo. He can’t get it. Dump it all into the fire, then burn it. All of it. Every bit. He can’t have it. Understand? It is important. Burn it all, then run. Get as far away as you can. They won’t chase you. You aren’t worth it. But the cargo, he’ll hunt the world for it.”

Thayn finally let go of his weapon. Then he held out his hand shakily.

Several objects appeared on the ground in front of the old man. A large shoulder bag, a wooden chest with fancy carvings, a leather folio, and a small bag that appeared to be full of coins.

“Take this. It’s all I have. Your contract is in there, too. Take it and run. Don’t go back to your old village, Go north. Find Teklar. It’s a city on the border with the empire. Find the artificer Degran. Degran in Teklar. Tell him what happened. Tell him you destroyed the cargo. He’ll take care of you. Swear to me that you will do this and I will return to you your bond, but you must destroy the cargo. Get to Degran in Teklar. Swear it!”

More coughing.

“Swear it!”

“Yes… I swear, I swear it. Teklar, Degran. I’ll do it.”

Thayn exhaled, drops of blood riding his wind like raindrops.

“Good. Now… There is some medicine in my bag. A small green bottle. Get it for me, would you?”

Rook quickly grabbed the bag and rummaged through it until he found the bottle.

“If he had medicine, why didn’t he take it before? Maybe he’ll be alright,” He spoke those words in his mind so that only Oberon could hear them.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He located the bottle, ripped off the lid, sniffed it, held it up to the man’s lips, and poured some into his mouth.

Thayn coughed again, then grabbed the bottle and brought it back to his lips, downing more of the contents.

Rook recognized the smell from the bottle immediately. He knew that smell. It was a strong and pungent odor, one that he usually associated with beatings for no reason. Rhaeger used to call it medicine, too.

“There, that’s good. I’ll be right in just a moment. Now go! Go and take care of the cargo. I’ll be good in no time.”

［Leave him. There is nothing you can do. You should grab what you can and run.］

“No. I’ll do what I said.”

Rook had no particular internal sense of honor, but he felt he had to do this. It had been so important to Thayn, and this man had truly helped break him from that prison.

［Only to abandon you in the middle of the forest. You owe him nothing.］

“I said I would do it. I’m going to try. If anyone comes, I can just switch over.”

He grabbed the objects left by Thayn and shoved them into his soul space. Then he ran over to the bubals.

Only when he got there did he remember that the cargo was still stored. He would need a purge stick to get them out.

［Pull out Thayn’s bag. There’s a purge stick inside.］

Concentrating on just releasing the bag, it materialized in Rook’s hand. With no ceremony at all, he activated the stick twice, and there were two towering piles of boxes next to the two unencumbered animals.

He reached to pick up one of the crates when Oberon yelled at him.

［Just store it, Idiot! We don’t have time now to burn it all. Store it, and we’ll take it all with us. You can burn it later.］

That plan didn’t make sense, of course. There was no way it would be possible for him to carry a full load for one bubal, let alone two, on top of everything else he had stored. He was about to say that aloud when a corner of his brain nudged him. Just try it.

He had no time for arguing, so he reached out to touch the pile and prepared to feel some kind of backlash. Instead, to his own amazement, the entire pile vanished.

A moment later, the second pile disappeared. Rook was speechless. How was this possible?

［No time to worry. Grab the rest of the loot, and let go before anyone comes looking for all this stuff.］

Shaking his head, Rook ran back over to Theyn. He could at least report that the first mission the old man had given him was complete.

“Old man… Sir…”

The old man was perfectly still.

［Move! They could get here any moment.］

Rook jolted up and looked around, listening for any sounds that might warn him of approaching enemies.

It was quiet, but he could still hear the sounds of some birds nearby.

The time for delicacy was over. He ran and started to cram anything and everything into his storage now. Dropped coins, broken swords, a single boot, Presia’s entire tent, everything. The boss of the mercenaries had dropped three beautifully carved boxes and several bags full of small objects, as well as another bag of coins. The drops from the attackers contained strange bottles of unknown substances, papers written in strange letters, and packs of rations, amongst many other items.

Rook took it all. Still, he had no problem loading more into his soul space. The last thing he took was the warding stone from the center of the camp. It was the magic item that kept animals away from the camp at night.

It was frightening to remove this safety item, leaving him alone and vulnerable, but it was better than abandoning it before setting off on a journey through the forest that would take who knows how long.

The last thing he did was something he decided to do on a whim. Again, he wasn’t sure it would even work. Again, Oberon was against it. Still, He felt he should do something. He just didn’t have time to do anything better.

The last items he stored from the camp were the remains of the four fallen members of the Verity Mercenary Troupe.

He had no intention of taking them with him wherever he went. Once he was safe, he would find someplace quiet to lay them to rest before continuing on his journey. Rook told himself he owed them that much, but if he was being honest, he was hoping to alleviate some of the guilt he felt, carrying all their possessions in his storage.

The sky was starting to lighten, and he knew that sunrise was quickly approaching. He wanted to be far away from the campsite before that happened.

It was difficult for Rook to decide between the danger of walking in the deep forest, alone, at night, or staying near the campsite that was likely the target of the attackers once again.

It may appear as though he had to choose between two bad decisions, but this type of situation was one that Rook was more than familiar with. No two disasters were equal in their ability to cause him pain. He never had a good option, he simply needed to quickly pick the least painful path in front of him.

In this situation, he was much better off facing potential attacks from wild animals than certain death at the hands of trained mercenaries and bandits.

He had his soul space where he could hide at a moment’s notice. No wild beast would have the patience to wait for him to exit at a later time, but he was sure that seeing him disappear would likely attract great attention from human pursuers. If they knew he could do this, he would never be safe.

At least now he had plenty of coins to power his soul space.

［You can say that again.］

“How many coins did we end up collecting?”

［Enough. I was even able to upgrade things a bit. ］

“What?”

［Don’t worry about it. I’m still figuring it out, but trust me, it was worth it.］

Rook did not trust Oberon, the king of the faeries in the slightest. That said, there was nothing he could do about it now.

［We should start moving. Which way do you want to go?］

Rook thought about it for a moment.

“Perhaps we will go to the north someday, as the old man wanted, but I’m not entirely sure it is something we should do first. What if that Degran person blames me for what happened?”

Rook spun around, trying to get his bearings.

“There is another problem.”

［You have no idea how to tell which direction is north?］

“I have no idea how to tell which direction is north.”

With that realization, Rook made a quick decision and moved off to the trees behind the clearing.

“Let’s go this way,” he said, pointing ahead.

［Why this direction?］

“Well, it’s the opposite direction from the path we came from. If Willis thinks that we are still alive, he may decide to head back toward the ranch in case we decided to go back. At the very least, I can’t think of any reason why we would go in this direction.”

Rook stepped carefully, trying not to make tracks that would give away his route.

［That’s some pretty strange logic. For all I know, it makes sense. But we don’t have any better ideas. Are you ready? Keep alert, and be prepared in case we need to run into the soul space. Remember, if you don’t see it, neither do I.］

Rook nodded, moving deeper into the forest. Leaving behind him not just the camp, but also his entire past.