Novels2Search
The Lonely Bard
Chapter 28: The Long Road to Haven

Chapter 28: The Long Road to Haven

🎵: Dash of the Daring, Rise of the Iron Will, Serpent's Lullaby, Whispers of the Unseen

Dawn brought little warmth as we broke camp, the morning mist clinging stubbornly to the ground, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and wood smoke. My muscles ached from last night's exertions. The prisoners watched our preparations through narrowed eyes, particularly their leader, whose bruised jaw had swollen impressively overnight.

"Three prisoners, eight hours to Haven's Cross," Master Dalen outlined as we gathered. "They'll try to free them. Be ready."

Old Tom snorted, checking the prisoner's bonds for the third time. The prisoners shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between each other as if silently calculating their chances of escape. "Already spotted their scouts. Two in the treeline east, probably more we haven't seen."

I helped Lori secure the leader to our supply wagon. "Got any more songs that might help if trouble starts?" she asked quietly, testing the ropes.

I responded, "I know a few," although my repertoire was limited. "But let's hope we don't need them. Still feeling drained from last night."

The leader's eyes narrowed at our exchange. "Enjoy your brief victory, bard," she spat. "The Black Scale Brigade doesn't forget. And we don't forgive."

"That's enough from you," Lori growled, tightening the ropes perhaps a bit more than necessary.

We moved out as the sun finally burned through the mist. Master Dalen set a careful pace—fast enough to make good time, but not so fast we'd miss signs of an ambush. I rode near the middle of our column, trying to ignore both my exhaustion and the weight of watching eyes from the forest.

Master Dalen raised her hand, bringing our column to a halt. She gestured for me to ride up alongside her.

"There's a narrow pass ahead where the road cuts between those rocky outcrops," she whispered, nodding toward the terrain. "Perfect spot for an ambush. Think you could slip ahead and have a look?"

Old Tom agreed, his weathered face grim. "Better to know what we're riding into. Just don't take any unnecessary risks."

I nodded and slipped into the treeline, moving quietly through dense undergrowth, the damp leaves brushing against my legs and the occasional snap of a twig threatening to give away my position, until I was out of sight of both the caravan and any watching eyes.

You sing Dash of the Daring!

The ambush site came into view within seconds. Just as we'd suspected—six men with crossbows positioned on the rocky outcropping, and another eight waiting with drawn swords behind hastily constructed barricades on the road. They'd even had time to string a heavy rope between two trees, ready to block our path.

I spotted their leader—a hulking man with a distinctive red-plumed helmet—gesturing silently to position his men. More importantly, I saw the gap in their formation. They'd left the western treeline almost completely unguarded, probably assuming the thick vegetation would prevent any escape in that direction.

Name: Red-Plumed Leader

Classification: Human

Profession: Warrior

Level: 7

Weight (kg): 95

Description: A hulking warrior in well-maintained battle armour adorned with a distinctive red plume. His theatrical helmet plume really drives home that age-old military wisdom: "If you're going to be evil, at least be fabulous about it."

The effects of Dash of the Daring faded as I raced back to our caravan, my mind already forming a plan. Master Dalen and Old Tom listened intently as I detailed what I'd seen.

"Fourteen total," I concluded. "Six crossbowmen up high, eight swordsmen on the road. They're expecting us to either charge through or retreat—they've left the western flank light."

"Counting on the thick forest to do their work for them," Old Tom nodded approvingly at my observation.

"Did you spot any mages?" Master Dalen asked. "Any sign of their poison merchant friend?"

"None. Just steel and crossbows."

"Tomas, Jarek—take two of our people and the prisoners through that western gap and meet us on the other side after we deal with the ambush. Meanwhile, we'll make it look like we're falling for their trap."

The leader of our prisoners sneered. "You think a few trees will stop—"

"Quiet," Lori snapped, tightening the prisoner's gag.

I pulled Master Dalen aside, lowering my voice to ensure only she could hear. "There's something we could try, but I'd prefer to keep this ability between us. I know a song that can make a small group... unseen." I hesitated before continuing. "If Old Tom and two fighters join me, we can slip behind the crossbowmen while you create a distraction from the front."

Master Dalen's eyes gleamed with understanding, giving me a subtle nod. "A useful talent indeed," she replied carefully, matching my discretion. She motioned Old Tom over, speaking in hushed tones. "Take Brendan and two of our best fighters. He has a way to get you behind those crossbowmen unseen, but this stays between us. Not a word to anyone else about his methods - could be a valuable surprise for future encounters."

Old Tom's weathered face showed no surprise, just a quick, understanding nod. He gathered Lin and Pak, and Master Dalen repeated the warning about secrecy to them. They all nodded solemnly, veteran fighters who understood the value of keeping certain advantages hidden.

You sing Whisper of the Unseen!

The haunting melody fell from my lips in barely more than a whisper, and I watched as Old Tom , Lin and Pak seemed to fade from view, their forms becoming nothing more than the faintest shimmer in the air. Staying within five meters of them to maintain the song's effect, I crept along as our group slipped into the forest while Master Dalen outlined the rest of her plan below.

I kept my voice to the barest whisper as I maintained the Whisper of the Unseen; the melody making my skin tingle as its magic wrapped around our small group. Old Tom moved ahead of me with the practiced silence of a veteran fighter, while the other two guards-Pak, and Lin — spread out in a loose formation behind him, careful to stay within the song's five-meter radius.

We crept through the underbrush, each step measured and deliberate. The crossbowmen perched on a natural rise, so focused on Master Dalen's group below that they never thought to watch their backs. I could see their fingers tensed on their triggers, six of them crouched behind fallen logs and large rocks.

Lin nearly stepped on a dry branch, but Old Tom's hand shot out—just a shimmer in the air—and caught her shoulder in time. Sweat beaded on my forehead from maintaining the magic, but I didn't dare let my concentration waver.

When we were within striking distance, Old Tom signalled with hand gestures we'd practiced: Pak would take the two on the left, Lin would handle the two rightmost crossbowmen, and he would deal with the two in the centre. I would maintain the song until the last possible moment, then assist where needed.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

From our elevated position behind the crossbowmen, I could see our reduced caravan making a show of cautiously approaching the bend. The tension was palpable as they drew closer to the ambush point.

"Halt!" The red-plumed leader emerged from behind his barricade, sword drawn. "Release our comrades, and we'll let you pass unharmed."

Master Dalen raised her hand, stopping our column, her eyes steady and her expression calm, as if she already knew the answer. "And if we refuse?"

A crossbow bolt thudded into the ground near our lead wagon—a warning shot.

"Then we take them by force," he growled. "Along with everything you own."

"I see." Master Dalen's voice carried clearly. "And your men on the ridge? Should they perhaps check their position?"

I let the last note of Whisper of the Unseen fade just as Old Tom gave the signal. In that instant, we materialized like ghosts made solid, our sudden appearance accompanied by the satisfying sound of steel clearing sheaths. The crossbowmen's shock was complete—they never even had time to turn their weapons on us before we had them disarmed and on their knees.

Old Tom's sword pressed against the neck of the crossbowmen leader, while Lin and Pak efficiently bound the others' hands. I gathered their crossbows, tossing them well out of reach. I allowed myself a small smile as Master Dalen's voice drifted up from below.

"Now, about those terms," Master Dalen continued pleasantly, as we emerged into view on the ridge, weapons trained on the increasingly nervous raiders below. "I believe we have a counter-offer."

The red-plumed leader raised his sword, but his men were already backing away. They'd come to free their comrades—dying in the attempt hadn't been part of the plan.

"You can't guard them forever," he snarled, gesturing for his men to withdraw. "The Black Scale Brigade—"

"Yes, yes," Master Dalen interrupted. "Doesn't forget, doesn't forgive. We heard this speech last night. It wasn't impressive then either."

I couldn't help but grin as the raiders melted back into the forest, their perfect ambush thoroughly dismantled. But my smile faded as I caught Old Tom's expression.

"They gave up too easily," Old Tom muttered, eyes scanning the treeline. "This was just a test—seeing how we'd react, learning our tactics."

"You think they'll try again?" I asked.

He checked his crossbow with grim determination. "Boy, we've got six more hours to Haven's Cross. I'll be shocked if they don't."

The next few hours were a special tension, the kind that makes minutes feel like hours. We kept a steady pace, but the failed ambush had everyone on edge. Master Dalen adjusted our formation after we reunited with Tomas and Jarek's group. Lin and I now rode higher on the wagons for better sightlines, while Lori and Old Tom kept close to the prisoners.

"Tell me about Haven's Cross," I said to Lin during a calm moment, trying to distract from the constant vigilance. "I've never been."

"Big walls, bigger attitudes," she replied, but there was fondness in her voice. "The Watch likes to pretend they control everything that happens there. Truth is—"

"Movement!" Jarek's warning cut through the air. "Eastern ridge, moving fast!"

This attack was different—no demands, no warnings. Just the thunder of hooves as riders burst from the treeline, 15 of them driving hard for our wagons. The sound of swiftclaws quickly drowned out the twang of bowstrings and shouts of alarm.

Master Dalen's voice rose above the chaos. "Protect the wagons! Don't let them—"

As the raiders crashed into our column, her remaining words became inaudible. This wasn't an attempt to free their companions—this was meant to create chaos, to scatter us.

The raiders hit us like a thunderbolt, their corrupted swiftclaws driving a wedge between our wagons. There were too many—our arrows weren't enough to slow their charge. A rider swung at me with a mace, forcing me to dive and roll behind a wagon wheel.

We were being overwhelmed. I had one song that could turn this—Dreadful Dirge surfaced in my memory. Not since Kira... No time for hesitation. People would die if I didn't act.

You have replaced Serpent's Lullaby with Dreadful Dirge!

You sing Dreadful Dirge!

Effect: 5 targets affected (3 raiders + 2 swiftclaws)

Duration: 30 seconds

Through cracks in sanity's wall.

Your demons rise before your eyes,

As terror's tendrils crawl,

In darkness deep, your fears won't sleep,

Surrender to the dirge's call.

The haunting melody flowed from my lips, each note heavy with terror. A burly axeman was first to succumb, going rigid in his saddle as the spell took hold. His scream pierced the night as he dropped his weapon, yanking his reins hard in panic.

His corrupted swiftclaw reacted just as violently, pupils dilating in terror as it reared up, screeching at invisible threats. Another swiftclaw nearby began thrashing and snapping, nearly throwing its rider in its frenzy.

Two more raiders fell to the spell's power - one clawing at phantom spiders across his skin, while another toppled completely from his saddle, scrambling backward on hands and knees from horrors only he could see.

For thirty seconds, these five remained locked in their personal nightmares. The affected swiftclaws' terror spread naturally to the other mounts, shattering the raiders' formation as the beasts shied away from their panicked companions.

"Push them back!" Master Dalen commanded, seizing the moment. Our guards surged forward, driving into the disorganized raiders with precision.

Old Tom's crossbow found its mark in a staggering raider's shoulder. Lori and Marcus loosed arrows in quick succession, their targets now easy prey as they stumbled in confusion.

As the Dirge's effect faded, the raiders had lost all momentum. The five affected by the spell had completely disrupted their formation, while our counter-attack had unseated several more from their mounts. The remaining raiders found themselves trapped between our defenders, who had regrouped effectively.

"Fall back!" their leader shouted, finally breaking. "Fall back and regroup!"

But there would be no regrouping. The raiders scattered into the trees, abandoning their wounded and dead. One failed to escape - Lori's arrow caught him as he fled.

Battle Summary

Raiders Defeated: 2 killed, 1 captured, 3 wounded and 9 fled

EXP Gained (You): 225

Loot: Assorted weapons, Black Scale Brigade insignia, coded message tube

The battlefield quieted except for the moans of the wounded. Our defenders moved efficiently, securing prisoners while Master Dalen directed the aftermath. I slumped against a wagon. The toll of using Dreadful Dirge felt heavier than just the mana it consumed. But looking at our living, breathing companions, I knew it had been worth the price.

"Clean work," Master Dalen noted, surveying the scene with an approving nod. "Though I'd rather not know what terrors you showed them to cause such panic."

"Trust me," I replied, voice slightly hoarse, "some songs are better left unexplained."

"By the gods," Lin whispered as she helped collect weapons from the fallen. "I've never seen swiftclaws spook like that. Not even during thunderstorms."

Krell was examining one of the abandoned swiftclaw that had thrown its rider during the Dirge. "The mount's still shaking. Whatever that song was, it worked on beasts and men."

Old Tom approached, already reloading his crossbow with mechanical precision. "Might want to save your voice, lad. Something tells me this isn't the last we've seen of them."

"We need no more surprises today," Master Dalen said, but her approving nod told me she was grateful for both tactical advantages. She turned to examine a coded message tube we'd recovered.

That's when we heard the approach of more riders. Everyone tensed, weapons raising—but these weren't raiders. The Haven's Cross patrol leader, a stern-faced woman with captain's bars, reined up beside our wagon.

"Master Dalen," she nodded. "One of our scouts spotted your caravan at dawn and recognized your banner. When he reported the Black Scale Brigade movement in the area, we rode out immediately."

New Character Met: Captain Reed

Name: Captain Reed

Classification: Human

Profession: Military Officer

Level: 10

Weight (kg): 70

Description: A stern-faced woman with captain's bars and the bearing of a seasoned patrol commander. Her patrol cloak might be regulation blue, but she's definitely changed it for better sword-drawing speed - proving that even the most by-the-book officer knows when to bend the rules just a bit.

"Captain Reed," Master Dalen replied, composure intact despite our recent battle. "We handled this attack, but your reinforcements are most welcome on the road ahead."

The battle had been close enough without waiting for rescue. Looking at the scattered weapons and spooked swiftclaws still trembling from Dreadful Dirge, we'd been lucky our own tactics had worked.

The leader of our original prisoners had watched the entire battle with calculating eyes. When she caught me looking, she smiled—not a pleasant expression. "Getting tired, bard? Good. You'll need your rest for what's coming."

"You seem to have handled yourselves well," Captain Reed commented as we reorganized our column. Her patrol integrated smoothly with our group, doubling our fighting strength. She surveyed the battlefield, noting the scattered raiders and their abandoned mounts. "Though I'd be curious to hear how you spooked so many experienced riders from their saddles," as she redirected her eyes towards me.

"Luck favoured us today," I blurted, before busying myself, helping secure the newly captured raider, trying to avoid drawing any attention to myself. The man was barely conscious. Lin's enhanced strike had made sure of that. As I checked his bonds, a small metal tube slipped from his jacket—another coded message.

"Master Dalen," I called, holding up my find. "Looks like more of their correspondence."

The tube passed through several hands before reaching Captain Reed, who examined it with a frown. "Same markings as the others we've intercepted. Haven's Cross has a translator working on breaking their code. No luck so far."

Our original prisoners stirred at this news, exchanging glances that didn't escape Old Tom's notice. "Seems our friends here don't enjoy hearing that," he observed. "Maybe worried about what we'll learn?"

"You understand nothing," their leader spat. "The words are protected. Your translators will—"

"That's enough," Captain Reed cut her off. "Save your talk for the Watch interrogators."

We moved out again, now twenty strong, with the patrol's addition. Captain Reed positioned her riders in a wide perimeter, their blue cloaks visible through the trees. After a five-minute rest to restore my mana, I felt much steadier. The added security of trained patrol riders, plus my restored magical reserves, made another attack far less likely to succeed. Still, I kept my eyes on the treeline—the Black Scale Brigade had already proven they weren't afraid to take risks.