Chapter 17 – The King of Bandits
“How large is this forest?” Zaphyr asked wearily, leaning against a slender birch tree to support herself as she did so.
“I don’t think we’ve seen the sun in days,” Zull said as he sat down on a moss-covered rock, gingerly massaging the bottom of his feet. His boots had nearly worn through from the amount of walking they had done in the past few days, and his feet were scratched and bloody, with callouses just starting to form.
Vard, as cheerful as ever, said, “I think the forest is rather lovely, don’t you? All these trees, the serene stillness…the songs I could write about this place, the odes I could compose to its solemn beauty, if I had sufficient time. And, well, ink and paper to write them on.”
Sir Kyr grunted. “Why bother pining for something you don’t possess? It seems like a pointless waste of time to me.”
“And therein lies your great flaw, Sir Kyr,” Vard said solemnly. “Your lack of imagination, your inability to picture anything beyond the physical reality before you.”
Sir Kyr’s ears twitched in annoyance. “I fail to see how that constitutes a flaw on my part.”
“My point exactly,” Vard said triumphantly, crossing his arms as if he had just won the argument.
Zull interrupted then, asking, “Where do we head from here, Sir Kyr?”
Sir Kyr, returning his attention to the task at hand, lifted his muzzle, sniffing at the air. “This region is crawling with Vyle’s bandits. Vyle had several locations he used as a camp for his little army, which they would rotate between at random. One of them was nearby, and if I had to guess, it’s the one he’s using at present. Our misfortune, then.”
“How many of them are there?” Zaphyr asked.
“Their scent is on practically every leaf, so we’ll have to be careful.” He pointed to a trail which sprouted off from their own, snaking along to their right before disappearing from their sight behind the trunk of a particularly massive oak coated in creeping vines. “That trail should take us around their camp at sufficient distance that we should be safe, barring more poor luck.”
“I’m not so sure we can count on that,” Vard said. “Judging by what I have seen, the three of you have more than your fair share.”
Ignoring the bard, Sir Kyr started walking down the trial he had designated, the others following shortly behind him. After the trail wrapped around the large oak, it entered a dense thicket of trees and thornbushes, the tangle of creeping vines and cloying, sharp branches making their way even more difficult to traverse than before. Sir Kyr hacked away what he could with his blade, trying to clear a path for them, but it would have been impossible for him to eliminate everything, and so they made their way along as best as they could. Thorns dragged at Zaphyr and Zull, cutting their skin and tearing their clothes, adding to their general aggravation and exhaustion. Many of the thorned plants also bloomed with enormous, gorgeous flowers, emitting a heady, sweet scent that filled the air, making it difficult to breathe. The blooms were a vast variety of colors, blue, green, and light purple. Zaphyr, noticing a particularly gorgeous bloom within her reach, reached out to pick it. Before her fingers touched it, Sir Kyr, reacting with his lightning speed, smacked her hand away abruptly.
Holding her injured hand against her chest, bewildered, she asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Those flowers lure you in with the colors, then, once you taste it, you die. It’s a defense mechanism. They’re poisonous,” Sir Kyr said calmly.
“Did you expect me to eat it?” she asked incredulously.
“The poison isn’t in the flower. It coats it. Even if you had just touched it, then brushed your fingers against your lips by accident, some of the poison would have enter your body,” Sir Kyr said. “And I don’t feel like having to treat you tonight while you lay there, thrashing about and foaming at the mouth.”
Zull let out a quiet chuckle as he imagined that, which made Zaphyr glare at him, frowning. “It’s not funny,” she said. “And you all seem to think I’m far more foolish than I am. I can take care of myself.”
“We weren’t questioning your wisdom,” Vard said, trying to resist the smile itching at the corners of his own mouth.
“You may not be,” Zull retorted. “But I was. Zaphyr’s impulses to touch everything bright, shiny, or fuzzy have been getting her in trouble since she was a child.”
“Why, you…you…,” Zaphyr fumed.
“Keep your voices down, all three of you,” Sir Kyr said, softly but sternly. “There are bandits nearby.”
The others hushed instantly at that. “How close?” Zull asked in the quietest whisper he could manage.
“Not too close,” Sir Kyr replied, equally hushed. “I can only just barely make out their scent amidst the general odor…but they’re headed this way. Of that, I’m sure.”
Zull and Zaphyr looked at each other nervously, but remained silent as Sir Kyr had cautioned them. They had repeated this pattern several times over the past few days they had spent sneaking through the Ar Goll woods. Sir Kyr would lead their band along one forest trail or another, confident in his navigational skills, although all the paths looked nearly identical to the twins. Occasionally, he would halt their group and demand total silence, sensing a roving band of thieves using the same network of trails somewhere nearby. In the past, they would resume their progress quickly, but the twins, Zaphyr especially, could tell that Sir Kyr seemed especially on edge this time.
“Can’t we just sneak past this patrol, like we’ve done before?” Zaphyr asked.
“We’re too close to Argus Vyle’s camp at this point,” Sir Kyr told them. “Eventually, we’ll just run into another group of his men.”
Vard gulped loudly, and the twins shot him a glare that made him smile apologetically. “We can’t just sit here, then,” Vard said. “Staying in one place only raises their chances of finding us.”
“At this point, it seems like an inevitability,” Sir Kyr said, resigned. “Vyle has tightened his defenses since I left the ranks of his army, apparently.” Sir Kyr carefully considered, then said, “Very well, here is what we shall do: we must head straight for Argus Vyle’s camp.”
The others looked at him as if he had gone mad. “You want us to walk right into the camp of Argus Vyle, the pillager of Empress’ Veil, and then beg for his mercy?” Vard said, his tone oozing with disbelief.
“Yes,” Sir Kyr said plainly. “You forget that I served him for several years. He may prove lenient towards us.”
“I would feel far more comfortable with a ‘will’ rather than a ‘may,’” Vard grumbled, “If you thought he would simply accept us into his ranks, why was this not our original plan?”
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“I couldn’t be certain he would be in a merciful mood. He’s a fickle man,” Sir Kyr confessed. “But I no longer see any alternatives. By heading directly there of our own will, we will look less suspicious then if we were caught trying to sneak past him.”
None of them liked the idea, but, lacking any other options, the three agreed to Sir Kyr’s proposition. They made their way forward, deeper into the forest, the only sound the occasional snapping of a twig beneath their boots and the lonely whistle of the wind through the branches overhead. The dappled shadows the trees cast shifted as the afternoon wore on, making it seem to the anxious twins as if a murderous thief or bandit lurked behind every tree, waiting to jump out and cut their throats the moment their back was turned.
After a short while of walking like this, the four reached a large rock, about a man’s height, completely coated in a thick green blanket of lichen. Sir Kyr stepped over to the rock, hood swinging around as he sniffed at the air, before he said aloud, “Zenn, Malrick, Gebel; come out, I know it’s you. I could never forget you three’s stench.”
As if he had summoned them into existence by speaking their names, three men stepped out of the shadows, becoming plainly visible to the other three, who started in surprise, completely unaware that they had been followed so closely. The men held a mishmash of rusty weaponry and wore leather jerkins. Up close, the twins could see they had daubed dried mud on their faces to help them blend in with the forest. Their stench, unwashed as they were, struck Zaphyr and Zull like a physical blow. The first of the men, a fellow with a mismatched pair of green and brown eyes, whom the twins presumed was Zenn, said in a gravelly voice, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming back here, Kyr. What do you and these other fools want?”
“I want to see Argus Vyle,” Sir Kyr said calmly. “I wish to secure safe passage for my wards, myself, and our traveling companion Vard through Vyle’s territory.”
“Normally, no one from outside the forest sees Vyle, except when stuck on the end of his blade,” Zenn said, “But for you, I think he’ll make an exception.” He beckoned with his hand for the others to follow him, and said, “Follow me, you lot.”
The four of them, flanked by Malrick and Gebel while Zenn took the lead, followed another winding, narrow dirt path through the trees before shortly arriving at a large, manmade clearing, which made the twins both gape in astonishment. Argus Vyle’s camp, to Zull and Zaphyr’s eyes at least, was chaotic beyond reason. At the approximate center of the clearing there was a large tent, clearly Vyle’s own, surrounded by a rough circle of smaller tents, his men’s quarters. Scattered around the camp without a seeming pattern, were crates and barrels, many of which sat half-opened, evidently the bandit’s supplies. The thieves bustled about the clearing on their various tasks, mostly ignoring the new arrivals, save for a few stares of curiosity or recognition at Sir Kyr. There was a wide variety of individuals, men and women of all ages and regions within the empire, united only by their service to Vyle. There were several horses, cropping grass around the clearing, and even a makeshift forge set up where a blacksmith was at work repairing swords and horseshoes.
“No wonder the Empress has had difficulty catching Vyle,” Vard said. “I see they weren’t exaggerating when they said he had a veritable army of thieves at his command.”
“Quiet, you lot,” Zenn growled. “No talking until we reach Lord Vyle.”
They remained silent for the brief walk across the camp to the central tent, the entrance to which was drawn open to keep the interior cool. Stepping inside, the four of them found themselves standing before a ramshackle throne, constructed from various pieces of wood tacked together hastily. Sitting on this throne was an older man, his hair stark white and falling to his shoulders, his expression reserved. He was shriveled with age, looking as wiry and tough as a piece of raw iron ore, newly hacked out of the earth. He had a set of claw marks across the left half of his face, and his left eye was a clearly blind, milky white orb. Resting on the left armrest of his throne was a knife, and on the right was a clay goblet, brimming with beer.
Standing on the throne’s left was a burly man with a short goatee wearing a green tunic who glowered at the four newcomers. Standing to the throne’s right was a young woman, older than the twins but only just. She had light blonde hair cut short and piercing blue eyes, but there was something else about her that made her face seem slightly off, almost uncanny, to look at, although neither twin could place exactly what about it seemed so strange to them. She was clearly fascinated by Sir Kyr, although she remained silent. Both held spears at the ready and seemed willing to skewer the four of them at the slightest word from Vyle.
“Found these four heading towards the camp, my lord,” Zenn said, gesturing dismissively to them as he spoke.
“So, Kyr, after all this time, you come crawling back to me?” the man seated on the throne, who the twins knew instinctively could be none other than Argus Vyle himself, growled. “You were the greatest tracker I ever had, and when I needed you most, you vanished into thin air. Now you come back with two children and a fat bard in tow?” The man in green sneered at that, while the blonde-haired woman remained focused solely on Sir Kyr.
“All I seek is safe passage for my companions and I through your forest, Lord Vyle,” Sir Kyr said, dropping to one knee and bowing as far as he could.
“Hah! Is that all?” Argus Vyle said, standing up from his throne as he did so. “Well! Why didn’t you say so sooner? Your request is granted! What else can I do for you?”
The twins glanced at each other in relief. Sir Kyr stood up and walked over to Argus Vyle, and the two hugged briefly, clapping each other on the back as they did so. “How are you doing, you old rascal?” Sir Kyr said, throwing back his hood to reveal his wolf’s head grinning widely. For the first time that the twins had known him, Sir Kyr seemed genuinely happy.
“Not bad for a bitter old man, you mangy mutt,” Argus Vyle said, laughing heartily as he gestured for his followers to put away their weapons and step back from the twins and Vard. Vyle pointed to the scars on his face and said, “You know, I can’t thank you enough for these scars you gave me, that first time we met. It has worked wonders for my reputation as a bandit king.”
“For once, I am the confused one,” Vard said, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. “It is a most disconcerting and dislikeable experience.”
“Hah! I see you haven’t told your new friends much about me,” Argus Vyle said. “Well, that’s alright. Any friends of Kyr’s are friends of mine.” He walked back over to his throne and sat down, picking up his clay goblet and taking a long sip from it as he did so. Smacking his lips loudly, he set the goblet back down, then said, “I suppose some explanations are in order, then.”
“They would be appreciated, yes,” Vard said, and the twins voiced their agreement.
“It all started, oh…who knows how long ago, when I was out looking for a caravan to rob with my fellows, when we instead came across a particularly man-like wolf- or wolf-like man, if you prefer- rampaging around. After a long and very savage fight, in which I earned these magnificent scars, we managed to subdue and capture the fell beast. We were just discussing how we should kill it, when it began speaking to us, begging for a swift death. Instead, once I realized it could think, I offered it a different deal; work for me, use its fine senses to lead my men through this maze of a forest, and we would protect it, accept it as part of our own pack, so to speak.” Argus Vyle’s smile grew broader. “That may just have been the best deal I ever made in my life. Kyr here proved of invaluable service to me.”
“And I do not regret my time in your service, Lord Vyle,” Sir Kyr responded. “But I have sworn a new oath now, one which I must fulfill.”
Argus Vyle picked up the goblet once more, this time swirling the drink within around in his hand as he looked down at it. “Do tell.”
Sir Kyr pointed to the twins, then said, “These children have a secret message to deliver to the Empress and there is a powerful individual calling himself ‘the Master’ who would stop them, kill them if he could. I know that your enmity with the Empress is bitter and deep, but you have a sense of honor, and I know that your soul rejects the very idea of the base murder of defenseless children. I have sworn to protect them on their journey until they can reach Melkis and deliver their letter. Now, I ask for your assistance in upholding my oath.”
“Show me this message,” Argus Vyle commanded.
Zull reached into his tunic and drew out the still-sealed letter, which he held up for the bandit lord to see.
“What does it say?” Vyle asked.
“We don’t know,” Zull confessed. “Our teacher made us swear to deliver it to the Empress, with the seal unbroken and the letter unread.”
“Indeed,” Argus Vyle said as he tapped his fingers on the armrests of his ramshackle throne. “Sir Kyr, you, more than anyone else, are aware of my feelings towards that so-called ‘Empress’ and her crimes…but, I will help you fulfill your oath, Kyr. It’s the very least I can do for you, after everything you have done aiding my cause.” Argus Vyle gestured sweepingly towards the surrounding encampment as he said, “You may stay in my camp, safely, for the night. Rest assured, neither the Empress nor this self-proclaimed ‘Master’ commands anything or anyone in Ar Goll Forest. I am the ruler here. Once you are ready to depart, my men will escort you to the edge of the forest and give you whatever supplies you need to reach Melkis.”
“Thank you, Lord Vyle,” Sir Kyr said, bowing once more to the seated figure.
Zaphyr and Zull nearly hugged each other with joy. A massive smile spread across Zaphyr’s face, and even Zull grinned slightly. “Looks like things are finally starting to turn for the better,” Zaphyr whispered excitedly.
“We can only hope,” Zull responded.