Chapter Two: The Verity Mercenary Troupe

“Why did you bring that… bondling with us?”

The two men rode their serow well ahead of Rook and the bubals. Still, it would have been harder for the boy to not to overhear the conversation as they moved slowly through the old trails leading to the forest.

“Stop whining, Willis. You know as well as I, that we lack the coin to get the animals we need. Giving up the skill was a given. I just got the best deal we could get in return. We also need a new porter, and one that can handle the animals is the best possible-“

“But not a stinkin bondling, and a tar-blood to boot. I bet we could have gotten the younger one and a couple more yakul and maybe some supplies-“

“Shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear that language from you again.”

“Or what, old man? As if you could do anything to-“

In a flash of movement, the older man slashed out his arm towards the other rider, a hooked stick appearing in his hand that caught the loop on the saddle’s belt. Suddenly, the younger man was on the ground on his back.

In the next instant, Thayn was on top of him, a dagger held against his throat.

“Just because you are skilled, doesn’t mean you know anything. Presia put me in charge of this little shopping trip, and you are just baggage, so don’t make the mistake that your input here is in any way warranted or welcome. Are we clear on that, Willis?”

Thayn spat out the name, and pressed the blade against Willis’s neck, drawing a drop of blood as it cut in shallowly.

Rook was shocked by the sudden and violent attack, unsure of what was going on, but also by the quick and brutal nature of the old man’s movements.

He also noticed a difference in how the man spoke and carried himself since they left the ranch. At first he had felt like the old man was just like the other villagers he had known. Now he spoke and acted more like the soldiers who had once moved thier forces through the village.

At first, Rook had feared entering the forest, a place he had always been taught was full of dangerous wild beasts, where he was sure to die if he tried to escape his servitude she he ever have the thought to flee into the mountains.

Now, he was more afraid of the man who now held ownership of his bond. Rook trembled as he stood still, holding the reins of the bubals’ harnesses.

“Okay! Thayn! Brach’d! I’m sorry. Get off already.”

Standing upright, the older man reached out his hand, pulling the other man off the ground roughly.

“Having a skill or two alone doesn’t make you strong. You’ll be better off learning that lesson soon. Best you keep in mind where you sit in this team.”

Rook stood there petrified, but he could tell the malice in the younger man’s eyes. As happy as he had initially been, to finally leave the ranch, he now had serious concerns about what his new situation would mean to his own safety. These mercenaries were dangerous and volatile, and they had complete control of him.

“Go scout us a place to camp for the night. Pulling these bubals behind us, it will take at least three days to get to the others. We’ll need a place to hold up before it gets dark.”

Seething anger flashed over Willis’s face, but he nodded, then jumped on his deer and disappeared into up the trail.

Thayn turned his attention to Rook, causing the boy to freeze in place.

“Come on Blackie! Keep moving. We have more steps today than a willow tree has leaves.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what the old man was saying, but Rook understood the general meaning. He yanked on the rope to get the bubals moving again, and continued to walk along the old trail, trying to keep an eye on the man, while also avoiding staring at him.

“So, what are we gonna call you? I mean, we can go with Blackie if you like…” As he spoke, Thayn reached out and pulled a scroll of parchment from thin air. He looked over the document with a frown. Dismounting again, he walked beside Rook while holding the reins to his mount.

“Your contract doesn’t have a name. Unless this…”

Thayn held it in front of Rook and pointed.

Of course, Rook did not know how to read. Who would bother to teach a bondling such a skill? To him, it was just a bunch of scratches, with the exception of the large diagram in the lower corner of the contract.

Three concentric circles, with two perpendicular lines that intersected at the center of the circles. At each point where the lines crossed a circle, there was either a small filled dot, or an empty one, or no mark at all.

This was a pattern that Rook knew intimately. After all, the same exact mark was tattooed on his right palm. A sigil that had been there since before he had come to the ranch. One that had more legitimacy than his own name. The pattern of circles and dots was unique to his contract, what marked him as a contracted bondsman.

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“So what do they call you?” Thayn asked, an annoyed look on his face.

The already intimidated boy shrank back and remained silent, but when the old man stepped forward, halving the distance between them, he yelped, “Rook!” Then he added in a whisper, “I’m called ‘Rook.’”

Thayn scrutinized him between squinted eyes for a moment.

“‘Rook’, huh? Quite a name. Maybe you prefer ‘Blackie’.”

The name had been given to him by the village head after he had been found and brought there. One of the nameless children who appeared from time to time after bandits razed a town, or a trading convoy was wiped out by predators.

The village head would just assign any orphans who showed up whatever name he thought of. Usually it was some animal that he had seen recently. Rook’s unusual jet-black hair was his most defining feature. Thus, he had been named after the birds that plagued the farmers in the valley.

While he was old enough to speak when he was found, Rook had no memories at all of where he was from. He was found wandering the forest alone by a caravan of merchants, who assumed that he had been abandoned, or cast out of another traveling group. They dropped him off at the nearest village, not wanting to have anything to do with a cursed child. Black hair was a well known dark omen throughout the region.

Eventually, Rhaeger agreed to take him on, in exchange for forgiving a portion of his own debt that he had with the village. A young orphan with black hair was worth so little that the village actually paid the rancher to take him away.

“Anyway, ‘Rook’ will do for now. At least we know you can speak. I was beginning to worry that you were mute, or dim.”

The old man motioned for Rook to start moving again. He stayed on his feet and walked beside the boy, pulling his mount behind himself.

“I’m Thayn, and that hothead is Willis, if you haven’t caught that yet. Welcome to the Verity Mercenary Troupe. I can’t promise how long you’ll be with us, at least until we reach the regional capital. Work hard and learn, and maybe we’ll keep ya on for a spell,” he said with a grin that in not entirely freindly, was at least amused.

Over the next few days, Rook began to learn what his new life would be like. Sometimes Thayn would talk to him as they walked, or rested along the path. Willis always ignored him entirely.

His contract had been bought by the mercenary party. His job was now to care for the animals, supplies, and luggage.

Soon, they were deep in the forest. It was dark, even in the middle of the day, as the thick trees blocked out much of the light. Around them, the sound of wind, blowing through the branches, and animals scurrying around them had Rook in a constant state of terror. He had been warned as long as he could remember, that going into the forest was certain death.

His two companions didn’t show any signs of fear, though they spoke rarely, even to each other. When they stopped to rest, one would always stay away to stand guard, and meals were silent and quick stops.

Only once did the pattern change. It was gradual, but so profound that it was impossible to ignore, only difficult to identify when it had started. The noise of the forest disappeared. Even the sounds of the wind and trees seemed to vanish, while the sounds of life were replaced with a crushingly heavy silence. Even the bubals pulled away from Rook as though testing their escape options.

Thayn and Willis rose up on their mounts, turning away from each other to monitor their surroundings from every direction, and weapons appeared in their hands.

Thayn carried a large ax at the end of a ridiculously long, thick handle, while Willis had a small buckler shield that appeared on one arm and a long spear with a forked tip at the end in his other hand.

Thayn raised his arm, and their formation stopped.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever to Rook. He was sure that at any moment, a pack of wolves or bears or alcini would charge out and tear them all to pieces.

Indeed, something must have come close to them, but whatever it was decided to continue on, leaving them unmolested. Eventually, the sounds of the forest returned, and they continued on their journey without a single word between them.

By the third day, Rook was suffering. He could hardly get any sleep, and walking every day was taxing his stamina. His life at the ranch was far from comfortable, sleeping on a bed of old, insect-infested hay in a stable, but he had gotten used to it. Out in the open, the noise of the forest and the fear of the wild made it almost impossible to rest, even leaning against the soft fur of the bubals. Mentally and physically he was breaking down.

His pace was slowing, and this seemed to be making Willis even more angry. On the second night, while he tried to sleep, he heard the two mercenaries whispering, and Rook thought he recognized his name, but there was nothing he could do.

Just as he was about to reach his limits, they reached their destination. A campsite at the edge of a large open meadow.

After three days of travel, they finally had met up with the rest of the mercenaries. Apart from Thayn and Willis, Rook now knew there were two other men and they were all led by Presia, the boss of the group. Now he finally had a chance to see them in person.

Presia was an intimidating woman, with a stocky, muscled build that would have made even the strongest men in the village jump to get out of her path.

The other two men in the camp were the brothers, Botts and Gred. They said they were brothers, but they looked nothing alike. Gred was pale, thin, and lanky, with thick oily hair, while Botts was a tall and somewhat pudgy bald man with a dark complexion.

At first they were greeted with enthusiasm. This sight of the animals put smiles on the faces of the other mercenaries, but they soon disappeared as they noticed Rook pulling on the harnesses.

Presia pointed her finger at Theyn, then motioned for him to come over and talk to her over by a tent at one end of the campsite.

Rook watched as the leader and Thayn disappeared into the tent, then realized that everyone else was staring at him. Willis jumped off of his mount, then walked over to the other two mercenaries and started talking to them, speaking in low voices, occasionally looking over to steal a glance at him.

Rook looked around, surveying the small camp. There were three tents and a large fire pit in the center of a flat, cleared space. It looked as though they had been there for a while, as they had even set up a makeshift kitchen, complete with a barrel full of water.

Resisting the urge to rush to the barrel and quench his thirst, Rook continued to survey the camp. He had expected there to be more people. Typically, a mercenary party going into the forest would have at least members, and usually more. He wondered how they could defend a camp like this with so few people.

Thayn exited the tent, then motioned for Rook to come over. He could see the scowling face of the leader through the entrance flap of the tent and shuddered. He hesitated to step forward, but Thayn moved quickly, grabbing him by the shoulder and thrusting him inside

Losing his balance, Rook fell to his hands and knees. He was exhausted and couldn’t keep his balance. Lacking the stamina to even stand, he stayed there on all fours, staring into the ground.

“Well, so you are the new porter? Thayn, you have really outdone yourself this time. Does it even have the strength to stand? What am I supposed to do with this?” The mercenary boss spoke in a raspy, gruff voice.

“Boy! Look up, can he even understand? Is he dim as well as a weakling? Really, Thayn, maybe we should just leave him here. A twig like this won’t even make good bait.”