Blowing on a smoldering splint from the fire, Lyanna coaxed it back to life, then hurriedly concealed the light in her palm as she crouched low behind the wood crates and carts near the edge of camp.
For long seconds she stayed frozen, barely daring to breathe. The only sound was the pounding of her heart.
No-one had seen. If they had, they would have come looking by now. So she told herself, as she pressed the flame into the small pile of rags up against one of the boxes. The flame took, but Lyanna couldn’t stay to tend it, crucial though it was. She heaved one more barrel atop the stack for assurance, then departed, fading into the night like a ghost.
Silence in movement was a great asset in the Bloodsucking Forest, one greatly hindered by the metal armor required within its boundaries. Thus many adventurers with the skills and wealth to practice magic studied spells to quiet their passing. Lyanna was among them.
Her steps were soundless as she hunted in the dark, even where her metal-soled boots should have clinked on ash-dusted stone or the still-unburnt needlegrass away from the camping areas.
Prey were all much alike, even if this time they were human. The guards watching the ill-fated beastfolk boy thought they were safe – their only task was to see to it the fox-eared youth couldn’t slip his bonds and escape ‘justice’.
In the warm night air they had seated themselves a short distance back, on the edge of the island of light cast by the torch which crackled over the prisoner. The duo shared a waterskin and idle talk, never imagining that Lyanna lurked in the shadows at their backs.
She could have struck then, but her diversion needed time to take effect if it was to clear out as many obstacles as possible. In the interval she observed her goal.
Even unbound he would have been identifiable by his red hair and ears, despite facing away from her. But bound he was, hanging listlessly from the ropes. Each arm was held outstretched, tied to carts to either side, forcing him to kneel upright. Armor saved his legs from the deadly grass, but they must be aching by that point.
Despite the agonizing posture he was still as a corpse, the occasional twitching of his fluffy tail or ears the only proof he still drew breath. Yet the young adventurer would need to move quickly and responsively if he was to escape – and if Lyanna were to avoid being caught helping him.
It wasn’t too late to change her mind, she told herself. The beastfolk was innocent of the attack on the expedition, of that much she was certain, but he was still a stranger to her. If she was caught….
The thought went unfinished, as a cry went up through the still night air.
The guards rose to their feet as the call spread, but they were simply peering towards the sounds of commotion in interest. It wasn’t for them to fight the blaze.
There was a dull glow visible over the parked carts, soon growing to flickering tongues, flames rising up as the fire reached the oil barrels atop the crates. With a bang something detonated, perhaps one of the oil barrels. An incandescent mushroom rolled up from the conflagration.
One of the guards whistled. The other looked anxious.
“That looks bad, boss,” the latter spoke.
His voice was young enough for him to be of an age with the teenage adventurer he held captive.
“Not our problem,” the older man answered. “Someone fancy adventurer type’s bound to have a spell for this, just give it five minutes.”
His statement was punctuated with a sharp unnatural sound.
“Long enough,” Lyanna answered, as the two men fell at her touch, senseless and twitching.
Metal armor was no defense against lightning.
Few adventurers had experienced lightning in the flesh, and fewer still could summon the elemental power of storms. Those who could jealously guarded the secrets of the magic – as did any human sorcerer their incantations, painstakingly developed and passed down through the centuries. As a result it was unlikely the guardsmen would ever know what hit them. They would have felt a moment of heat and impact, but nothing more before the magic robbed them of consciousness.
As for what a mage might make of the effect, her spell sent little essence into its targets – the bulk of the work was done by the lightning itself – so there would be little chance of them identifying the true cause, even if they somehow knew enough to look for the effects of lightning magic.
That would be scant comfort should they be discovered before Lyanna and the boy could escape of course.
The beastfolk adventurer too was looking towards the fire – with the guards sat behind him he hadn’t even realized his captors were disabled.
Lyanna stepped past them and approached.
His ears twitched as she moved, but they could not defeat her magic.
Quickly she pressed a hand down over his mouth, the other taking hold of his shoulder as he jerked in fright and moaned into her palm.
“Quiet,” she murmured in one mobile ear. “I’m here to help you. Don’t make a sound or we’re both dead.”
He nodded his head, body tense as if still expecting a knife in the back at any moment.
Lyanna lifted her hand gently from his mouth, then stepped over his splayed arms, turning and kneeling to face him.
It seemed his earlier sobs had been cut short by a newly blackened eye, amid a face still bruised and bloodied from his earlier interrogation. He had a pitiful look to his soft features. Thick eyebrows overhung large eyes with orange pupils that glimmered faintly in the light, yet showed little hope. His nose had at a slight bend, red and inflamed where it had been broken.
Seeing her, his ears flattened, his split lip quivering. There was fear written clear all over his freckled, battered features.
“M-miss,” he whispered loudly, “please, I didn’t say nothing of what they told you I did, honest, I never said nothing about your brother!”
“Hush,” she commanded, pressing a slender finger to his bruised mouth. “I know you’re innocent, but it’s too late to convince the Baron. You have to leave the camp. Tonight. You’ll need to travel back through the Bloodsucking Forest alone, but its night and you’ll have my magic to help you move quietly.”
He gaped at her words, as she loosened the ropes around his wrists.
“I can’t, I can’t go through the whole forest alone, I’ll die!”
“Quiet,” she reminded him as she slipped his hands from the ties. “You’re a silver ranker, aren’t you? Some silver-rankers work the forest solo you know. Trust me; you stand a better chance running than waiting here for morning.”
“But we’re days from town,” he replied, tone pleading as he rose unsteadily to his feet, massaging aching shoulders.
“You don’t need to get all the way to town. You only need to get close enough to find some adventurers. Just be back at town before the expedition returns. After that you’ll need to leave Bellwood. I know, that’s going to be hard on you, but it’s your only chance now.”
It was a reckless, foolish plan, Lyanna knew, but it had been the best she could do for the young adventurer.
The boy looked doubtful, but it seemed he had no better ideas. There was no time to delay even if he did – already Lyanna could hear the fire being fought. The diversion it yielded would only last so long.
“There’s no more time to waste, kid,” she spoke under her breath as she readied her staff. “This spell will quiet your movement, but not your voice.”
“Wait,” he said quickly, holding up a shaking hand. “What you doin’ this for? Ain’t you a gold-ranker? Leading the whole thing I heard – besides, you’re human, why you helping a beastfolk like me? We never even talked once, never even told you my name.”
“What is your name?”
He hesitated, ears flattening once more. “Reynard. Everyone says it’s stupid. Fancy name for a lord’s kid or something.”
Lyanna smiled. “I wouldn’t know. I grew up in Bellwood and that sounds like an Arelat name. I never learnt any Arelatense, so it’s lucky you speak Hronan. But now I know your name, Reynard. And I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do, human or beastfolk. Whatever you’re guilty of, I know you didn’t hurt anyone – you were just a scapegoat.”
“But I’m a Vulpine, not a Capran,” he answered uncertainly.
“Hronan expression. They pinned the crime on you because they couldn’t figure out who really did it. It could even have been one of the Lastborn who stole the monsters, and dropped them when they wormed free of his bag. But we have to get moving.”
Lyanna chanted her incantation under her breath, to quiet the young beastfolk’s movement. While she was at it, a second spell she set his injured nose. There was no time to address the rest of his hurts, but the nose looked like a nasty injury, and ignored too long it would set crooked.
Reynard took a silent but appreciative sniff, and gave her a shaky grin.
“Thank you, for, well, all this,” he whispered.
Lyanna grinned back at the childish look on his face despite herself.
Finding a pack in one of the carts the adventurer had been tired to, she restored Reynard’s gear and weapons to him, and helped him into his helmet. Also loading him up with a second pack of stolen supplies she had done all she could to prepare him for the escape.
The duo set off, moving furtively through falling cinders towards the edge of camp which was as far from the commotion of the conflagration as possible, without venturing into the field of tents that made up the bulk of the camp grounds. In the calm created in the spaces away from the fire progress was smooth. Neither noticed the figure trailing them.
Soon they were crouching mere paces from the wood barricade and the line of torches which marked the boundary of camp. Here there were people still on watch, despite the emergency. They were positioned looking out of course, spaced every fifty feet or so. They might not pay much notice to events in the camp, but they were unlikely to miss a figure fleeing through the ring of light. A further distraction was required.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
A hand arrested Lyanna as she was about to step from the cover of a cluster of barrels, and she almost cried out in fright.
Tuning on her knee, her dagger flashed out in the darkness. Her other hand twisted back the aggressor’s.
The other struggled, hand going for his own blade, but hers pressed to the neck of the blandly familiar figure first.
He raised his free hand and whispered a surrender.
To one side Reynard fall back on his ass in alarm, then looked all the more surprised by the lack of a metallic clunk until he recalled Lyanna’s magic.
“What are you doing here, Arn?” she demanded of the mercenary from the capital. “Quietly now. Shout and I’ll cut your throat and let Reynard drag you to the nearest river.”
The swordsman gulped, the lump in his throat pressing to the tip of her dirk, puncturing itself to ooze a dim bead of blood.
“Saw you sneaking around,” he began carefully. “I figured it was a little late for you to be out for a walk, and I didn’t recall your brother or the Bosquerime having a tail.”
“And why were you sneaking around, Arn?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘sneaking’ exactly, but when I saw the fire I went to check on the beastfolk prisoner right away.”
Reynard was looking back and forth between the two of them anxiously.
“Why? Shouldn’t you be fighting the fire with the others who were awake?” Lyanna asked.
“Maybe if I was some mindless patrolman or prissy knight, but a real mercenary knows camps don’t take light without a flame.”
The dagger pressed a mite deeper, and Arn winced.
“Don’t dodge the question. How did you know the fire was anything to do with us?”
“Alright, alright, easy. I’ve only got one throat, and it’ll be a lot more use with just the hole it already has, thank you. Its simple how I knew – it’s exactly what I’d have done if I needed to get everyone looking the other way while I snuck someone in or out. Can’t say I expected to find you though, I thought it would be your brother, or else whoever really stole the monsters.”
“And instead you found me.”
Arn nodded slightly, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Just what are you planning on doing with this information?”
“Not getting my throat slit jumped right up to my top priority recently, but after that, I guess making sure you don’t do something stupid and get yourself into even more trouble with the Baron. I told you before; I know what he’s capable of.”
Slowly Lyanna lowered her dagger, returning it to its place at her side.
“Reynard’s innocent, the Lastborn framed him.”
“Obviously.”
“Help me get him out of here, we don’t have long before the fire is out and they notice he’s gone.”
“Don’t you think that there are going to be questions when they do find him missing?” Arn asked mildly.
“Hey, whose side you on?!” Reynard hissed, finding his voice. “You gotta help me, else I’m dead in the morning!”
Lyanna nodded in agreement.
“I suppose that means I’m helping you then,” Arn sighed. “You two wait here. Lyanna can’t afford to be seen involved in this any more than the beastfolk can.”
“I got a name you know,” Reynard huffed, looking uncertain that he wouldn’t prefer the prior appellation.
He nodded dismissively. “Apologies, Renaud.”
“Reynard!”
“Quiet!” Lyanna hissed at them both. “What are you going to do, Arn?”
“Let me worry about that, Lyanna. You stay here and watch our backs. Whistle if there’s anyone coming."
“What about me? What do I do?” Reynard asked nervously.
“Just get away from the camp. Don’t try to go back down the hill in the dark. Even if you can find your way, set off another rockslide and everyone in a mile will hear you. Head west instead, along the ridge – my scout team found an animal trail that way, stick to the cliff top and you can’t miss it. The path circles around the hilltops and turns south to go down to join the river. It’s too narrow for the expedition, but it’ll put you on course for Faron.”
Reynard gaped for a moment, but Arn shrugged off his belated attempt at thanks.
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m just making sure Lyanna doesn’t get in trouble doing something stupid.”
With that Arn rose, passed his sword and dagger to a bewildered Lyanna, then sauntered easily over towards the nearest guard.
The mercenary passed her, hopped the barricade unsteadily, and had already yanked the nearest torch from its pole and started walking out into the night by the time the guard called for him to stop. Lyanna noticed a slight wobble to his steps.
“Whaa?” Arn answered the guard.
His voice was a little too loud, speech slurred. He kept going towards the nearby trees.
“You can’t go out there, there’s monsters!” the guardswoman insisted, climbing over the barricade after Arn as he continued to walk off.
“Get lost, I gotta take a dump! I ain’t going in the latrines again, they shtink! Stink! A man needs fresh air an’, an’… bugs and stuff, when he does his deed!”
“No-one leaves the camp tonight, Baron’s orders!” she answered, grabbing his arm. “Besides, you’re mad to go out there, you’ll stab your own ass just trying to wipe it!”
With a deft movement that could have been a stumble or a martial throw Arn sent the woman slamming to the needlegrass. Her armor warded off serious injury, but she seemed stunned, by the outcome if not by the impact.
“No-one lays hands on me! Not ‘til I relieve meshelf… self. Me self. If you gonna come you can hold the torsh, but no peeping!”
To either side the nearest guards came running, shouting at Arn to stop.
It was perhaps thanks to his feigned drunkenness and lack of visible sword that no weapons were drawn in the ensuing scuffle, but it was safe to say all three guards were soundly distracted as Arn yelled and thrashed about, trying to unbuckle the seat on his armor and threatening to defecate on anyone who got in his way.
None among them noticed as a small figure slipped past in silence, flitting through the dark gap Arn had created in the line of torches.
Lyanna watched Reynard go with a heavy heart. She prayed he’d make it back to Faron, then on, to safety outside Bellwood.
~~~
The guards might well have reported him, despite the relatively minor trouble he’d caused them, but as the armored watch-keepers pulled Arn back towards the barricade none were paying much attention to his drunken ramblings.
Not enough to notice that they had become the murmured words of a spell.
It was a favorite of his, useless against those with strong minds or resistances, yet simple and discrete, with great potential if deftly applied.
Haze descended on the minds of his captors as their captive’s struggles subsided.
“Alright, alright, I’ll jusht use the damn latrines,” Arn slurred as they shoved him roughly over the barricade. “Don’t blame me if they stink extra when it’s your go though!”
With that he staggered to his feet before the dazed trio could recover from their stupefaction.
One raised her hand to stop him, but she couldn’t seem to find the words until Arn had already vanished into the night.
Letting a drunken adventurer or mercenary wander off in the dark in the middle of an emergency after picking a fight was not something they were likely to admit to, so the spy was confident that he’d have no more trouble out of them.
That left Lyanna to deal with.
Arn was still on edge after the disaster he’d so narrowly averted, all thanks to the stupid girl who’d dragged them all out to that wretched forest in the first place – and the disgusting animal she’d taken a liking to.
It rankled that he’d been forced to assist in the fox’s escape, but Arn took solace in knowing that the directions he’d given the boy were as good as a death sentence. There was no curve south on that trail, and no tributary of the Sanguine to find. There was only increasingly dense, deadly jungle, culminating in a goloth nest. Even if trackers were sent to pursue him, there would be nothing left to find.
It was imprudent to tell the animal so bold a lie in front of Lyanna, but Arn doubted she would check on his words with the other scouts – with his actions that night he had her trust.
A near disaster might become his greatest opportunity yet.
He could have simply remained hidden, or even called the guards on the duo and celebrated Lyanna’s stupidity in attempting to free a condemned prisoner alone in the middle of the forest. However, satisfying though it would have been, such a course would not serve Arn’s purposes.
If Lyanna was caught helping the fox escape it would doom her and her party, but not immediately. There were too many reputations and positions wagered on the expedition, from the Baron on down. Fools though most of them were, none were so stupid as to give up now. They needed to find the mimic near as much as Lyanna did.
If she’d been caught the gold-ranker would have been chained and manacled, yes, but executed, no. They’d keep her alive, at the least until she led them to the mimic, with her brother and partner as hostages if need be.
Should that happen Arn’s efforts sewing strife would all be wasted, as would his inspired ploy with the monsters Marcus turned up and the Lastborn knight. If he’d known how easily manipulated and weak-minded the Lastborn would be he’d have targeted them sooner.
As it was the rockslide had just missed the primary target – the Baron – but it had done plenty of damage. Even if he wouldn’t get to watch, there would soon be one less half-breed too.
Arn cleansed his face of the dark smile playing around his lips as Lyanna approached.
“Thank you for your help, Arn, you may have just saved Reynard’s life.”
The look she turned on him was a doe-eyed invitation, and Arn took it gladly.
“Forget about it. Please. We could both be in trouble otherwise. You most of all – the Baron won’t let it end with just you if he finds out what you did…. As we discussed, I know what he’s capable of.”
“Yes…” Lyanna said quietly, looking down at the grass between them.
She gave a heavy sigh.
“You could just leave-”
“Leave you say?”
Lyanna’s head snapped up, cutting Arn short with the abrupt intensity on her face.
“Better than sharing that poor fox’s would-be fate, no?” he suggested, with greater delicacy.
“What are you getting out of all this, Arn?” she asked sharply. “You’re a sword for hire, yet this is the second time you’ve warned me off this expedition.”
Arn’s mind was racing, struggling to gauge how best to diffuse the sudden suspicion. Lyanna was a gold-ranker, one who earned her rank through power as well as skill. If she caught on to his real goal and his true employer he wouldn’t be able to escape her.
He shrugged with calculated carelessness as he felt sweat beading on the small of his back.
“I get paid the same whether we bag your mimic or not, Lyanna. But when I quit the assassination business it was because I’d had enough of seeing the wrong people die. Innocent people killed by guilty people.”
His throat felt dry despite the humid night air as he waited for Lyanna to answer.
“Thanks,” she said at last. “I owe you one.”
“Like I said, just forget about tonight. Please.”
Arn shared a laugh with the foolish young adventurer.
Once she dismissed her silencing magic from them both they parted ways.
~~~
The fire was well in hand by the time Lyanna approached her tent, lazy trails of smoke all that remained of the conflagration.
During the short walk back Lyanna had reached a simple conclusion: Thunderbolt had to leave.
For the present they were still on the good graces of the Baron and his lackeys, but after the events of the day Lyanna was certain it couldn’t last.
Next time the Lastborn decided to do something stupid and lash out Marcus would be at the top of their list of targets. Lyanna herself was right beside him.
It would mean fleeing Bellwood of course.
They would return to the capital first, to collect her mother, then buy or steal a carriage and make for the border. Arelat ought to be safe enough for them – no love was lost between the two nations.
It would be dangerous, but their best chance was to slip away in the morning; to simply leave with the other scouting groups and never return. It would be nightfall before they were even missed, and Thunderbolt could handle the forest. They even knew a safe path thanks to Arn.
With luck they might catch up to Reynard, and help the beastfolk boy in his own flight too.
Arriving at the small cluster of tents that marked Thunderbolt’s sleeping space, her mind was made up. She would tell Dolm and Marcus at first light, and the trio would prepare everything. They would go along with her judgment, even if they didn’t like it. She would apologize to them both for her rashness and make it up to them once they were all safe again.
Yet she found Dolm standing outside, a grave look on the older adventurer’s face under his helm.
“Lyanna,” he spoke quietly, waving her over.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know where you’ve been, but Bomond came looking for you. It was after the fire started.”
“What did you tell him?” she asked under her breath.
“Said you were at the latrines, but you mighta stopped for some food on the way back.”
“He believe that?”
Dolm frowned, pursing his lips.
“Might have. Hard to say. Where were you really though?”
“Better you don’t know, Dolm.”
He gave her a stern look, but Lyanna met it with one it’s equal as she heard steps behind her.
“I’ll tell you later. For now I better find Bomond. Did he say what he wanted?”
“A word, Lyanna, from your guildmaster,” came Bomond’s voice.
Lyanna turned slowly to face the taller man, unable to keep her displeasure from showing on her face.
“I’d say sorry for waking you, but Dolm tells me you were already up. And armored I see. Come, we need to have a talk, you and I.”
A thick gauntlet clanked on her shoulder, pulling her despite her will.
Dolm’s eye went to his bow, resting against the tent-pole by his leg, but Lyanna waved him off with a hand as she went with the bald-headed old man.
“Eustas, wait with Dolm here. We won’t be long, Lyanna and I, and I don’t want to have to carry you to the healers again if you trip in the dark.”
The younger aide gave a curt nod. His recently broken nose was still pink where it had been healed.
Bomond led Lyanna back the way she’d come, towards the un-burnt section of carts and supplies.
He was silent until Dolm and Eustas were both well out of earshot.
“Do you remember what I told you yesterday evening Lyanna?”
She nodded slowly.
“What did we discuss?”
“You warned me not to be disrespectful, Guildmaster.”
“So I did. Some good advice that, you’d do well to keep it in mind young lady. Especially after the events since then.”
“What events?” she asked, as blankly as she could manage.
They were walking right towards the spot where Raymond had been held. Even a buffoon like Bomond was sure to notice the beastfolk gone and the guards downed.
Bomond grinned crudely. “Such a short memory. Just this afternoon your brother was being accused of conspiring against the expedition you know.”
“Marcus is innocent! Those were unfounded accusations!”
She came to a stop, pushing against his hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, yes, naturally,” he replied, applying more force, leading her on despite her resistance. “No need to get excited, girl.”
He was quiet as they passed the glow of a torch, studying her face as they walked. The scene of her crime was growing ever nearer.
“But Lyanna, it doesn’t look good when the night after that you disappear during an arson attack, does it?”
“Arson?! How do you know its arson? It could just have been some drunk knocking over a torch. There’s alcohol all over the camp, despite the rules.”
Bomond nodded lightly.
“Yes… it could have been an accident… that’s true.”
There was silence as they kept walking. There were only a few cart-lengths to go before they’d be able to see the prisoner – or lack thereof.
“Guildmaster, if there’s nothing else you wanted to discuss I should go, to see if they need any more help putting the fire out.”
“Oh, I’d say that’s well in hand now, don’t worry about it. I’m surprised you weren’t there sooner, really. Given that you were awake and dressed before it started.”
One cart-length. One stack of crates was all that blocked Bomond’s view.
“Well not for long. If no-one needs me I should be going back to my tent to sleep. The sun will be rising in a few hours, we should make the most of the time.”
“That’s a reasonable idea, yes.”
She tried to turn, to go back towards her tent. His grip tightened once more, holding her on the spot.
“But Lyanna… you seem very concerned about resting for someone who was up and about in full armor…. Are there many monsters on the way to the latrines?”
“I went for a walk afterwards, to clear my head. Out away from the tents and the people. The grass isn’t burned in the storage areas.”
“Funny that you should say that – a lot of it’s burnt now after all.”
“Yes Guildmaster Bomond. Can I go now, please? I really am very tired.”
“Tell me, Lyanna, is there some reason you don’t want to walk with me around the corner here?”
“What are you talking about?”
Bomond gave a chilling smirk as her voice gave the slightest falter, his hand tightening like a vice around her armor.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Lyanna. Tell me; was the fire your handiwork too? Or did you have that brother of yours light it?”
Essence rose from her outline in arcs, crackling against Bomond’s hand.
“Marcus has nothing to do with this,” she growled, even the guildmaster surprised by her ferocity.
His surprise turned to a sneer and a mirthless laugh.
“Just you then, girl, assuming I believe you. It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson, have you? I tried to warn you, but you were too arrogant to listen.”
Swallowing her pride Lyanna calmed herself as best she could.
“I didn’t do anything and I don’t know what you’re talking about, Guildmaster. I’m just tired of baseless accusations. What do you want from me?”
“Too late to play stupid now. You’re not smart enough for it. What you should really be asking is what you can do for me.”
He ran his free hand over his head, rubbing his bald skin as he licked his lips.
She looked at him with naked revulsion.
“Oh no, nothing like that, girl. I could take my pleasure with you of course, you’d hardly be the first up and comer to make the smart choice there, but we’re well beyond a little night attendance. No, I’m afraid you’ve done something very selfish, Lyanna, and we can’t have it. You see it’s not just your life on the line with this expedition. I have my reputation to think of – over four decades as an adventurer then guildmaster – and your little escapades are going to ruin it all, just to silence some moronic fox who pointed a few fingers!”
He was spitting each word as he finished, face flushed.
“But it would be many times worse for you of course. Your life, your brother’s life. Your partner’s life. Your mother’s life…. They’ll all be forfeit if I say the word to the Baron. But I don’t want to do that.”
He shook his head slowly, as if convincing himself.
“No… there’s no need for such a pointless waste. Not if you do as you’re told.”
Lyanna was silent in fearful anticipation.
“From now on, Lyanna, Thunderbolt works for me.”