Artifact of Evil (18 page)

"Then we decided to find some water and see if we could get something to eat too," Franz said, taking up the narrative and pretending his sister was not crying. "That's when you found us."

"We will camp here for the night," Greenleaf told the party. "Tomorrow we'll do what we can for the dead and then get these younglings to a safe place." All the others nodded a grim agreement.

There was a sanctuary of Rao in the nearby town of Little-berg. They left the newly orphaned youngsters there with sufficient coin to see to their welfare until an uncle could be notified and come for them. Gord made a point of promising the two, and Franz in particular, that he would serve as their avenger Isobel looked away, but the boy gritted his teeth and clasped Cord's arm.

"How will I know? Otherwise I must seek these murderers out myself."

"I will send you word, somehow – and proof, too!" the young adventurer replied earnestly. "This holy place will know where you have gone, and one of their brethren will carry word to you and your sister wherever you are."

"Thanks." Franz whispered. "But I wish I was big and strong enough to go with you." Gord, thinking of his own youth, shook his head and said firmly, "Such is not for you, lad, not now – or ever, if you can help it. Rest easy though, for once I pledge myself, I do not flinch from the vow. You will hear from me!" And with that, Gord turned and walked away. Brother and sister stood and watched him until he was out of sight.

The group divided and began combing the town for information. There was nothing to be learned about the caravan. No train even remotely resembling the description they gave had entered. Littleberg, then, was not the place where the brigands had come with their pillaged goods and slaves – small wonder, upon reflection. That evening they questioned barkeeps, ostlers, and tavern owners. One, with sufficient prompting of drink and copper, recalled that he had seen an odd group heading to the north only yesterday. It seemed a long shot, but the clue was the only one to follow. They took rooms at the tavern, and at first light next morning the six rode northward.

There was no hope, of course, of actually tracking the caravan of reavers, for the traffic was heavy along the highway that ran northward alt the way to Chendl. They passed several villages and dorps during the morning without coming upon any caravan of substance, although there were farm carts, wagons, and pack trains aplenty.

"If they are but a day's distance, my friends," Gellor said, "we shall catch them by nightfall – unless their draught beasts are winged! Let us press on."

Ride they did, and by nightfall they had found nothing. The town of Fountainspring was only a league or so farther, a helpful teamster related, so they rode through the gloaming and arrived before the gates were shut for (he night. The place was a thriving agricultural marketplace, newly arrived at its status. Even its walls were only half completed, and there were many greens and commons still within the town center and the fortifications. Although the residents of Fountain-spring could scarcely number two thousand, there were a number of inns and hostels for travelers, so accommodations were no problem.

"A pleasant little community," Incosee remarked.

"This is no time to think of settling down for a stay, even a brief one!" Greenleaf admonished sternly.

The Flan warrior laughed mirthlessly. "A wandering sellsword only thinks of putting down roots, never does it," he said.

Gord was practical. "Why talk?" he said with mild irritation. "A drink, some food, and a bed are needed – in that order. What else is (here to do in a town of yokels such as this?"

They managed to bathe and get fresh garments as well before the searchers set out again next day. It was evident that they had missed their quarry somewhere between Fountain-spring and Littleberg. Neither town militia nor southbound travelers had seen a trace of a caravan such as Gellor inquired of. Cursing about the time they had wasted, the six retraced their route toward Littleberg. In the afternoon they discovered that the train of demi-humans and hard-eyed men had crossed the Att River but a half-score of miles above Littleberg at the place called the Broad Ford. The main channel of the Att was to the east, and was spanned by a high bridge that enabled the river traffic to pass unhindered. To reach this crossing, however, a great shallow branch of the river had to be forded.

"An oddly tilted island, that," Moon said to no one in particular.

"I recall that I have been this way once, now that I see the place," said Incosee. "The deep channel passes through a rock-walled ravine, and it has worn the stone in such a manner as to make a half-bridge of natural rock. The rest was finished a century ago. It is broad enough for two large wagons to pass each other!"

Gord hunkered down in his traveling cloak. "It would be a wonderful place to see, I'm sure, if this filthy rain would ever cease," he grumbled.

The water was high, another wayfarer remarked, but the ford was no real problem, and soon the six men were on the eastern side of the Att, their horses plodding through the sheets of precipitation. The rain soon became torrential, and despite the best efforts of Gellor and the druid, they lost their way. Knowing that there was no hope of continued pursuit under such conditions, they decided to halt early that day and spent a miserable twilight and night in a wet encampment.

Bad weather persisted, but they slogged ahead through the progressively more deserted and wild countryside. Although the terrain was predominantly flat, there were swampy patches and many small ponds and lakes, fed and drained by streamlets and creeks. Rocky outcroppings and knobby hills thrust up here and there from the plain. The scarcity of trees in the area was from a poor, acidic soil rather than from the clearing of timber for lumbering or agriculture.

"See yon woodlands?" Curley Greenleaf said with a cheerful note in his voice. "With sun and trees, I think our fortune is changing for the better!"

"The land here is different," Gellor agreed, "and I believe we are nearing the Veng."

The six horsemen were moving along the narrow, rutted track that wound its way to the only fording place shown on the bard's map. The Veng was a broad and deep river, and there was little commerce with the land to the north; thus, the condition of the road and the lack of habitation.

A sudden movement caught Incosee's attention. "I saw a figure – a man, I think!" the Flan warrior called out softly to the rest.

Although Incosee did not point or give any indication of where he had seen movement, Gord had seen his head move. The young thief was keen-eyed and quick-witted. Without seeming to scan the area, Gord did so, and then added to Incosee's report. "There are armed men and probably women, too," he said. "I saw the glint of metal and a flash of bright skirt as well."

Gellor didn't turn as he called back to them. "Make no motion or gesture that indicates our sighting," he told the others.

"Ride on as if you were totally unaware of these skulkers. When we hit the trees we'll dismount and work to the left."

The six were soon screened by the trees of the small woods that the road cut through. Although the patch of trees and scrub was no more than two hundred yards wide, it ran for about double that distance lengthwise. The hidden group had been near the end of the western verge of the woods. It was obvious that they sought secrecy, not an opportunity to ambush the riders. The other adventurers followed Gellor's example, dismounting quickly and leading their mounts through the growth. The ground was relatively free of underbrush here, for the trees were large and had heavy foliage – oaks, maples, and a few towering usks. After a short distance, the bard and the druid gave over their animals to Patrick and Moon, telling Incosee and Gord to do likewise.

"Stay here with the mounts," commanded the one-eyed bard, "but be ready to come at my whistle or our call."

Patrick nodded, and he and his fellow mercenary moved to an open space near the edge of the woods as the other four members of the party moved stealthily ahead.

"Hsst! There are a dozen people just ahead," said Green-leaf as he suddenly appeared before Gord and the Flan fighting man. "Gellor and I will move right and left. You two wait a minute, and then advance as quietly as deer to the edge of the clearing they are in – move straight ahead, and be ready for combat."

Incosee gave his mirthless smile and hefted his barbed spear meaningfully. Gord said nothing but drew forth his sling. The half-elven druid disappeared, demonstrating his ranger skills as he did so.

"Fighting elves in such country would be bad enough," Incosee said softly. "But such as the round one there are worse still. I think this band of hidden folk ahead are in big trouble if they prove to be enemies."

Gord agreed. "This fighting is of the sort which Gellor and Curley are most adept at. I prefer streets and alleys."

The Flan warrior winked, and Gord grinned back. The time for waiting was about up, and they crept forward with almost no betraying noise. The pair crouched as they worked their way up a slight ridge, then fell prone as they reached its crest. The area on the other side was an open meadow about fifty feet in diameter. In the clearing were horses, men, and a group of disheveled women in the process of picking up bundles. Their attitudes and the watchful men nearby indicated that they were captives, not companions, of the rough-looking lot.

The two men watched unseen for several minutes. Then Incosee looked at Gord questioningly, for the group was preparing to leave the clearing with a handful of mounted men leading the way, and the female prisoners and their burdens ringed by another half-dozen or so men on foot.

"Do we attack?" he asked the young thief softly.

Gord shook his head. "Wait for Gellor or Greenleaf to act," he replied as quietly.

Just as the brigands were moving out of the clearing toward the south, the one-eyed bard appeared suddenly and stood, arms akimbo, barring the path of the horsemen. "Hold there!" he cried. "Throw down your arms and surrender, or you shall be the sorrier!"

The demand was certainly loud enough for Moon and Patrick to hear, and Gord knew that the two fighters would soon come to the support of their fellows. Meanwhile, he wondered, what was Gellor planning? He dashed to a position behind a nearby oak, and Incosee took a similar station even closer to the group while the brigands' attention was fixed on the bearded man who had so mysteriously appeared before them.

"What?" the evident leader of the band cried, reining his horse so that it danced and pranced sideways. "Who are you, jackanapes, to demand anything?!"

Gellor pointed with his left arm, indicating the edge of the little glen. "Observe, lout!" he countered, and as he spoke, a great thicket of briars and brambles sprang into being so as to entirely seal off the western edge of the place. "I am a patient man, but this sloth begins to pall – get off those horses and throw down your weapons, now!"

The crossbowmen among the unmounted brigands were moving slowly so as to be able to fire at this lone adversary. Left unwatched, the dozen or so women and girls began to move backward. A gap between captors and captives was developing rapidly, Gord saw, and he realized this was what Gellor and Greenleaf had desired lo accomplish. Just then the captain of the band gave a battle-shout and spurred his steed ahead, directly at the one-eyed bard.

"Die!" screamed the beefy brigand, slashing at Gellor with a heavy falchion and rearing his horse so as to make it flail with its forehooves.

Gellor merely stepped in close, darting lo the left side of the frenzied animal. "Fall!" he bellowed in reply to the brigand as he grabbed the man's left leg, jerked it from the stirrup, and heaved. The surprised brigand flew up and backward to land with a jarring thud. His horse screamed and galloped off. Gellor stood once again with arms akimbo before the prancing mounts of the four remaining horsemen.

Gord saw that the arbalesters were almost in a position to bring their weapons to bear upon his comrade. "Now! We must show ourselves!" he called to Incosee.

As the two stood forth from behind the trees on the little ridge, they made sufficient noise to draw attention to themselves. The captives saw them first, dropped their bundles, and fled eastward away from the brigands confronting Gellor. This seemed to serve as a signal for Greenleaf to act. He appeared at the far edge of the clearing, and the frightened escapees swirled left and right around him, shrieking in alarm. All this commotion caused the outlaws to spin and look to their flanks and rear. A quarrel buzzed past Gord and imbedded itself in the oak beside the Flan warrior.

Suddenly Gellor's sword was out and flashing. A rider who had turned his head at the distraction uttered a howl of pain as the blade bit into his arm. The flail he had formerly held ready fell to the turf, and the wounded brigand's horse ran into another animal and kicked at a second. All was now total chaos.

"That was Greenleafs work!" shouted Gord as a blossom of fire erupted in the midst of the crouching crossbowmen.

"I saw him hurl something," said Incosee with a grunt of effort as he heaved his heavy spear at a charging brigand.

Gord replied as he let fly an egg-sized stone at the same man. "The druid uses fire seeds – he told me of the magic."

Both adventurers were drawing their shortswords even as they exchanged more comments. They dispatched the wounded brigand and ran to engage the others below. As Gord and Incosee charged down the gentle slope, Patrick and Moon burst from the trees, urging their horses to a trot, and another of the druid's enchanted missiles sent forth its fiery tongues. This was ail too much for the outlaws. Those on foot or dismounted threw down their weapons and cried for quarter. Two horsemen managed to get past the bard's whirling sword, however, and rode away without concern for their fellows.

"Ride them down!" Gellor boomed to the two mounted mercenaries. " Bring them back alive or dead!" Moon and his companion complied immediately and likewise disappeared into the trees in pursuit.

The four other adventurers rounded up the surviving brigands. There were ten in all, eight of them wounded, and four of those near death. Only two of the opponents had been killed. Greenleaf actually ministered to the mortally injured outlaws, and in a few minutes it was clear that they would now survive their wounds.

"What about those prisoners?" Gord called.

"They won't wander far in the next quarter hour," the half-elven druid replied as he finished his healing work

"Moon and Patrick should be back by then, and we'll have this lot ready for a march. We'll all go after those women, and find out how they came to be captives of this lot."

Gellor eyed the cowed brigands coldly. "Pray they condemn you not, or your deaths will be hard… Have any of you anything to say?"

Gord and Incosee were just finishing binding the hands of the outlaw prisoners when Patrick and Moon returned. They bore red badges of battle, but behind them they led the horses of the two brigands who had attempted to escape. The bodies of the pair were slung across their steeds' saddles. The prisoners got one look at this and began a flood of confessions, explanations, and pleas. A few kicks and shakes silenced the babble, and then organized questioning began. 'The bound outlaws were frog-marched, one at a time, to stand alone and tell what they knew to Gellor. This was done out of sight and earshot of die rest. After each brigand was finished with, he was taken to a place in the woods. Gord stood guard over these men as they came. The outlaws, not knowing the fate of their comrades, spoke progressively more factually and to the point. After the seventh man of the ten was questioned, Gellor had the full picture.