加兰德突然感到一阵忧虑。难道是城堡派出了探子去探查荒地的情况？敌人面前，哪怕是最轻微的动作都会变得危险。

青年示意他的兄弟蹲下，以免被敌人发现。他自己也跃上马背，小心翼翼的靠近前方的两个人影……远远望去，似乎是两个人在四处张望，打量着四周。走近了，他看到他们穿着城堡士兵的盔甲。

这是伽兰德第一次亲眼目睹北方城堡的士兵。北方的气候和风俗习惯与部落完全不同。一眼就足以区分他们。

两只北方杂种身材高大，体格健壮，皮肤苍白，头发浅色。一个脸色红润，身材矮胖一些，另一个下巴尖，身材瘦削。两人都穿着长长的棉质长袍，外面套着皮背心，头上戴着铁头盔。两人各拿着斧头和锤子。从他们脸上的疲倦来看，他们似乎是走了很长的路才来到这里。

慢慢地进入射程，伽兰德无声地搭箭，瞄准了天空。红脸胖子个头大，第一箭他自然会得到。远距离拍摄需要选择方向和角度的经验。就这一点而言，加兰德绝对是老手。

他用尽全力拉动弯弓，屏住呼吸，集中注意力，判断时机合适，轻轻松开。

箭矢向上飞去，在半空中扭曲了两下，才落下。不太近，也不太远，正好击中了男人的肩膀。远处隐约传来他的惨叫声。

两个敌人很快顺着箭头的路径找到了加兰德。

他们用加兰德听不懂的北方语言互相喊叫。但他能猜到要点——攻击、杀戮之类的。

一对二的战斗，年轻人并没有占据优势。看到敌人追赶他，加兰德假装撤退，骑上马，又搭箭。他的短腿战马敌不过士兵的速度，尖下巴的战马马上就要追上来了。伽兰德突然转身，射出一支箭，正中尖下巴的脸。

再往前跑，就发现红脸举起了铁锤拦住了去路。加兰德将马头猛地拉到一边，猛地狂奔。

加兰德需要到达更有利的地形。没有人比他更了解荒地的布局。绕了一小段路后，他很快就绕到了一座小山丘上。

这时红脸已经逼近了，铁锤在头顶上用力挥舞着。伽兰德连忙向后躲闪。他在匆忙中失去了平衡，从马背上摔了下来，然后滚了起来。

Seeing him dismounted, the enemy also slid off his horse and pressed step-by-step nearer. Garlande drew the dagger at his waist and assumed a stance to meet his foe.

The two circled each other warily. The enemy likely thought a mere boy could have little strength, and would be disadvantaged in close combat. With a roar he raised the iron hammer overhead, bringing it crashing down towards Garlande's head.

The youth twisted away, evading the blow. The enemy's hammer struck heavily into the grass. Red-face hoisted it up again for a horizontal sweep. Garlande somersaulted and scuttled away, rolling and crawling. In dodging he lost his footing and stumbled, sliding down the knoll.

Seeing this, a smug smile surfaced on the enemy's face. Red-face lifted the hammer high and smashed down with full force. Never did he expect the boy to suddenly jackknife up and vault into the air - this lad had been faking it!

Red-face's excessive exertion had sunk the hammer deep into the muddy turf, where it stuck fast. Now Garlande had fully gained the upper hand.

In that instant as the enemy panicked, a flick of the wrist sent the sharp dagger slicing past like a bolt of lightning. Red-face lost his balance and toppled over. By the time he came to his senses and looked again, one hand had been neatly severed.

Horrified, the enemy emitted terrified wails. Garlande had to laugh: even grown men were no more than this. He lifted his dagger towards the man's throat and dispatched him swiftly. In an instant blood spurted in fountains, and the enemy breathed his last.

Picking up the enemy's iron hammer, a tool more crude than a weapon, Garlande mused that iron was a scarce resource in the wastelands. The enemies' iron weapons and helmets would fetch a fine price - war trophies his chieftain would surely reward.

For a good while Garlande stared transfixed at the corpse, then heard screams sounding from afar. He suddenly recalled that the skinny one's wounds weren't fatal - Sagy was still back there, what if something happened!

"Sagy--!" he shouted, searching around desperately.

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The spring breeze rippled through the grass in waves, but there was no sign of Sagy anywhere.

"Damn!" Garlande's heart pounded anxiously. That pointy-chinned one must have captured Sagy. But which way might the enemies have fled? He scrutinized the surroundings intently for any traces or clues.

Just then, an extremely faint moan seemed to emanate from somewhere up ahead! It must be Sagy! Garlande raced towards the sound. There was a small cliff ahead, barely half a man's height, hidden below his line of sight. And there the injured soldier grappled fiercely with Sagy.

Garlande could see the soldier's entire body pinning Sagy down. Grasped in his hand was a hatchet, which he exerted his full might to bring crashing down upon the boy. Sagy too was straining every fiber of his being to resist, nearly at his limit.

Garlande panicked. He leapt up and grabbed the soldier from behind, clutching the arrow shaft still lodged in his wound. He forced the man to shift off of Sagy, who swung his blade at Garlande. Garlande wrestled the man's arm with one hand while violently wrenching his body aside with the other, pinning the enemy under him. In the process the man's own hatchet neatly sliced open his throat.

After holding still for a moment to ensure the man was dead, Garlande finally heaved a deep sigh of relief and collapsed limply to the ground.

Beside him Sagy still trembled in shock and terror. Seeing his brother rest, Sagy finally relaxed and threw himself onto Garlande, sobbing "Big brother--!"

"There now, it's alright. You're safe," Garlande murmured, stroking his little brother's head.

Garlande thoroughly searched the Northern soldier's body, confiscating every valuable item, then hastily buried the corpses.

"What purpose brought them out to the wastelands?" Garlande mused, though he could glean no answers from the lifeless bodies.

"It seems we really can't camp out here today," he said. "Let's report back to the chieftain."

"Alright..." Sagy nodded reluctantly. The day's adventures were ruined by the two enemies, and camping held no more appeal, even if his brother still wanted to.

As the brothers prepared to head back, yet another furtive figure seemed to materialize up ahead!

"Not good, those soldiers may have accomplices!" Garlande whispered.

By now the sun had begun to set. In the ruddish dusk, visibility was not as clear as before. At a glance, it looked like a shady figure struggling to walk across the plain, alone and unmounted.

Garlande again had Sagy wait put, while he approached the silhouette warily with bow in hand. Drawing closer, it proved to be a withered, puny man hunched over trembling on the ground.

Garlande released a breath, arrogantly commanding, "Raise your head."

The man obediently lifted his head. Heavens, Garlande nearly fainted from shock - what hideous creature was this!

The man was misshapen in every way - hunchbacked, humpchested, twisted and deformed. His face was flattened, eyes tiny, teeth rotten. Skin rough and sallow, nothing but skin and bones. And he seemed somewhat dazed, with lecherous gestures, practically demonic!

Never had Garlande seen a human so ugly, not even if he combined the worst features of every ugly person he'd met in his life. This man had achieved the pinnacle of ugliness.

His tattered clothing marked him clearly as a slave. In halting tribal speech he pleaded, "Don't kill me!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm a slave." As he spoke the man continued kneeling and bowing as if to a deity, ceaselessly begging for his life.

The slave's battered rags bore the hallmarks of a certain wasteland tribe - wanderers who journeyed between the wastelands and castles, surviving through trade. That tribe had an unsavory reputation, dubbed the "Accursed Sinners."

"Are you of the Cuka tribe?"

"I was once their slave," the man humbly explained, accounting for his attire. "But later I became a Northern army slave, having just escaped a few days ago. The soldiers you killed had come to recapture me."

Garlande knew the Northerners had a strict hierarchy, enslaving captives as livestock.

"Please don't kill me, I know nothing, I'm just a slave," the man abased himself before Garlande again.

The status of slave was no guise - his fawning demeanor betrayed a lifetime of servility.

Garlande had no desire to kill him, simply stating coldly, "The gods forbid your accursed tribe from dwelling in the wastelands. Begone at once."

Delighted that Garlande wouldn't kill him, the slave eagerly tried to cling close, embracing the boy's leg and pleading piteously.

"Dear young master, you've saved me - I'm in your debt! I ought devote myself fully to serving you in return! From today on you're my master, please take me along!"

This proposition utterly disgusted Garlande. What - were there actually people who spurned freedom to beg for servitude! He frowned in puzzlement, wondering if he had misheard.

"What are you saying? There's no free food or lodging here. I can hardly support myself, let alone feed you, you freak!"

Seeing Garlande was a reasonable youth, the slave crept nearer fawningly, clinging to the boy's legs as he begged.

"Little master, I'm clever and capable - I can provide for myself! Why, I can even work to support you!"

"Are you mad? If you can provide for yourself, why do you need a master? Go away, stop clinging to me!"

The man was limp as a noodle, impossible to shake off no matter how Garlande kicked and thrashed. He had his own reasons.

"Little master, look at me - so hideous! No matter where I go people will oppress me. Who would believe me if I claimed to be free? In the end I'd still get captured and forced into the most wretched labor. But you're kindhearted - just provide me a meal a day, don't let those villains torture me to death, and I swear I'll repay you well..."

"No! Keep bothering me and I'll kill you!"

Garlande raised his knife, fully intending to end this wretch's life. But the slave quickly changed his tune. "Don't kill me! I know the Northern tongue - I have much of their intelligence! They plan to attack your people soon, though you remain unaware!"

At this Garlande panicked.

"So the Northerners do plan to invade us? Tell me everything you know!"

“现在，现在，别着急，”奴隶狡猾地转过身来，抓住了加兰德的弱点。“小主人，你带我回去吧，我会把我所知道的一切都告诉你们的族人，让你们占为己有，多好啊！”

“你！刚才你还说不知道，现在却声称什么都知道！”

嘉兰德愤怒地握紧拳头，恼怒又不知道如何反驳。青年天真无邪，而奴隶则靠着油嘴滑舌不知与死神擦肩而过。

“小主人，你别生气，你需要我知道的事情我都会知道的，嘻嘻。”

“我们先把他带回来吧。”加兰德和弟弟商量着。

“我没问题。”萨吉漠然道。

“但他很危险——回程时把他绑起来。” 伽兰德再次瞪了奴隶一眼，奴隶只是谄媚地谄媚，毫无怨言。