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Chapter Fifty Two: Odd Druid Out

Chance made his way back through the dark of night from the steam to the storeroom where the bandits were being kept, with Shags trotting alongside him. Chance could detect the wolf’s curiosity but Shags said nothing, merely accompanying him.

Dark as it was outside, it would be even darker inside. He picked up a length of wood that had fallen from a tree and directed his fire-lighting power towards the end of it. It ignited and the tip of it began to burn as an impromptu torch.

At the building, Chance unbarred the door, opened it and stepped inside. The men blinked at the sudden appearance of light in their midst, as soft as it was. They all turned to look at Chance, and then beyond him to where Shags stood in the doorway behind him, a large and dangerous presence that kept them cowed.

Chance looked over the waiting bandits; they were a dishevelled bunch, their faces resigned and downcast. “We need to talk,” he told them.

They looked from one to the other before a heavy-set, dark-bearded man spoke. “About what?”

“About what happens next. About what happens to you.”

“I did not think druids cared.”

“I get that a lot,” Chance replied. “I am not a normal druid though.”

“Yeah, I got that. The one I met, he didn’t care what we did as long as we didn’t go chopping down his trees and only hunted what animals we needed for food.”

Chance looked hard at the man. “You have met a druid before?” he asked.

“One lives out east, at some sort of scared site. He ignored us, we ignored him. Best for all that way.”

Is that what druids are like? Chance asked of Shags thought mindspeak so that none of the bandits could overhear. Indifferent to the world?

Druids tend to see matters differently, Shags responded. Man, civilisation, all of that is temporary as far as they are concerned. As long as nature is preserved and continues, that is all that they care about.

“I think I will have to speak with that druid,” Chance stated, brow furrowed in an expression of determination. “But I am not like him, or the others, which is why I am here.”

“What is it you want then?” the bearded bandit demanded. “Speak, or let us be.”

“I had planned on taking you to Estethford for the townsfolk to deal with, but it would seem they would do that by hanging the lot of you.” A low murmur came from the bandits, but by the looks on some of their faces, not all of them were surprised by the news. “I can not allow that,” Chance added, and that did result in surprised looks.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Sorry, what?” the bearded bandit asked incredulously.

“You heard him, Daf,” another of the bandits said, a thin young man who looked almost underfed, with a wisp of a beard that showed he wasn’t really old enough to grow a proper one yet.

“I am not going to hand you over to hang,” Chance told the waiting bandits. “Which leaves the question of what exactly to do with you.” He paused to look around at them in the flickering light of the torch, noting their faces; fearful, hopeful, resigned. “So what am I going to do with you?” he asked.

“You could let us go,” the one called Daf said hopefully.

“I could,” Chance agreed, “But that would not be without the risk that you would simply return to your old ways, and no one would be happy to see that.”

“No fear of that,” the kid said. “It was that, or starve, and the boss didn’t exactly give us much of an option.”

“And what if you are starving again?” Chance asked.

There was silence in response to the question before Daf spoke up. “Look we ain’t denying that we did bad things, for whatever reason we did them. It didn’t help that Yereshalaz has been falling apart, failing, and we didn’t feel like we had much of a choice.”

“I am going to give you that choice,” Chance told them. “A second chance. One that you had better not squander. There will be no third chance.”

They were all looking at him now, almost all of them with a sense of disbelief. “We are listening,” Daf said quietly. “What is this chance that you are speaking of?”

“You can go to Estethford and take your chances there with the townsfolk, and hope that they show leniency, or you could come with me, away from here, to a place where you can do some good. I am the Guardian of Azval Stalvaq, a druidic site off to the north of here. There are others who are living there who are, like you, maligned by the world. They are safe there. You can go there as well, to work for me, to make a better life for yourselves and in so doing help the community that you have hurt. That is the choice I am giving you.”

“I accept,” the kid replied, almost before Chance had finished speaking. “By Eternal Tioressa, I swear it.” Others echoed the kid’s words but Daf remained silent, his frown reflecting troubled thoughts.

“You can not choose?” Chance asked him.

The bearded man grimaced and shook his head. “I still have family in Yereshalaz,” he replied. “They rely on me,” he went on. “It is the only reason that I took up this life, so that they would not starve. If I were to leave, then who would be there for them, to support them?”

“You can’t do anything for them if you were dead,” Chance pointed out. “This way you can. We will find a way to let your families know that you are alive, and can still help them,” he added, making it up as he went along. He didn’t know if it would be possible to keep the promises he was making, but he was going to try his best. He was the one responsible for what had happened, so he had to see it through. “It is better than the alternative.”

Daf nodded slowly, his brow furrowed as he considered Chance’s offer. “Very well,” he finally said.

A weight lifted from Chance’s shoulders as the bandits agreed to his proposal. He had half expected that they would not take him up on his crazy idea. “That is good. There is still more to arrange, but I think we can make this work. In the morning we will start out, but remember that this is a one-time option only.”

He turned about and left the storeroom, shutting the door behind him. For a moment he considered barring it again before deciding not to; they had given their word and he had to show that he trusted them as much as they were trusting him. It was a risk, he knew, but one that he had to take. Plus, with the big wolf still on guard, there wasn’t likely to be too much trouble from them without him knowing. He extinguished the torch that he was holding, heading back over to where they had set up their camp. Taking up his blanket, he lay down beside the smouldering fire. Two days of wearying labour and worrying thoughts had sleep calling to him, and with his mind more at peace than it had been for a while, he fell asleep almost straight away.