- No! I told you everything! The base is further down the road! Half an hour on horseback at a trot! Turn off near the big pine tree! We always knew who we were robbing, but we learned the details literally in a day! Who and where from - only Selon can tell! He's from Zarzan! From the west! What more do you want?
The blade cut almost gently through the skin of the bandit's leg, causing another painful cry.
My lips say:
- Me? Nothing more. It's just that, torturing you, it's like I'm returning to the past. Such pleasant images flash before my eyes... - I even sighed almost with pleasure: - Let it be known that, it turns out, I liked killing and torturing in the past. And this, believe me, is very strange for a light elf... - my dagger sank hard under the man's kneecap. In response, he screamed so loudly that my ears began to ring. After waiting until he had screamed his fill, I said: - Do you by any chance know what this symbol is? - I took off my glove and showed the signet to the heavily breathing bandit.
"I've never seen this before," he said hoarsely.
"So, I don't need you anymore. I'm fed up with you." With these words, I slashed the bandit's neck with a lightning-fast blow, cutting it right down to the cervical vertebrae.
As I watched the man gurgle and twitch before his death, I only thought distantly that I needed to visit the base of these bandits in the evening.
It turned out the caravan's wagons were carrying valuable furs from highland cats and foxes, hunted by local hunters. The expected price for them in the nearest town was five thousand gold coins. The baron was to take a third. The rest was to be used to purchase grain, healing potions, arrowheads, and other small items for the village's needs.
The bandit twitched one last time and died. And there was so much blood! He should have been killed less bloodily.
I began to carefully search the bodies. First, I took two cloaks and began placing money and a few valuables on one, and funny items and weapons on the other. Almost immediately, I came across a small package containing rye crackers, a piece of slightly dried ham, and an onion.
I gobbled it up almost instantly, without even fully realizing what I'd found. I hadn't realized I was so hungry... However, I wasn't satisfied, and it only whetted my appetite.
Having received nutrients, the brain began to work more actively and began to process the information received from the bandit.
It turned out the caravan traveled only once a year. Attacking the village was pointless—the hides were tanned in various secret places and brought back to the village only when the baron's soldiers arrived.
On the way back, the peasants and hunters were no longer accompanied, but attacking them would have been foolish: a few dozen gold coins and various bulky small change were not the same thing. True, the pelts still needed to be sold, but the bandit said that wouldn't be a big deal: Baron Tour's neighbor, Duke Ber, bought the furs without asking where they came from...
However, the leader of the bandits, Selon, was from a neighboring kingdom called Zarzan.
This all looks very much like pitting nobles against each other. And what could anger them more reliably than spilled blood and the money involved?
Meanwhile, the kingdom of Zarzan may be preparing for war with a neighbor weakened by internal strife...
Of course, two-thirds of all this is just empty speculation, supported only by the words of one bandit and far-fetched facts, but what's stopping me from visiting the bandits' base in the evening, at night, or early in the morning?
True, the boy galloped straight to them and they could be ready.
Hmm. If I saw him with an arrow in his back, I'd abandon the caravan, take everything I could carry on the saddles, and be gone. The bandits have already demonstrated their stupidity and might well think their base is safe.
And what can a wounded man say? They weren't chasing him, and I certainly wasn't the baron's soldiers.
This Selon is unlikely to decide to move at nightfall. And if he's as greedy as the archers said, he's unlikely to abandon valuable goods just because of the incoherent babble of a wounded boy.
Bandits might even come here. If they do, my opinion of their brains will plummet even further...
Having collected the most valuable things from the bandits, I straightened up and began thoughtfully planning my equipment.
So, three short composite bows with full quivers of arrows, fifteen straight swords of very decent quality, the same number of identical long daggers, two slings with throwing knives. Poor flasks made of some strange, soft metal... What the hell is that—lead?! Shuddering with horror, I tossed aside almost all the flasks I found, except for one, clearly made of steel. It was bubbling with something that smelled like moonshine. What a nightmare. I definitely won't be drinking that crap.
That seems to be all.
Of the money, I found six gold coins, fifty silver ones, and thirty-eight copper ones. More than three kilograms of money... And the way they jingle when you walk! You could throw them away. But nope.
I cut a large square out of one of the cloak's fabrics with a dagger, poured the money into it, and rolled it into a sort of pouch. One of the bandits had a small, excellent knapsack with straps, and I put the money in it.
The valuables consisted of three gold rings and a pair of gem-encrusted signet rings. These clearly didn't belong to them. They had likely robbed someone else or had already searched the baron's soldiers. I folded these items onto another piece of cloth and carefully placed it next to the bandit commander's body: the baron's soldiers would soon find this place—let them sort it out. I had no need of these conspicuous items.
Now for the weapons. I didn't particularly like the swords, but I had no other... I took two, choosing the ones with the best-maintained scabbards. I tossed the two daggers into my knapsack: if I ever decide to go back into the forest, I'll have something to make a fishing spear out of. And besides, it's a useful item. After thinking about it that way, I shoved another one into the knapsack. I piled everything else in one pile.
Basically, it's fine. I somehow managed to arrange the new swords next to the two empty pairs of sheaths from my blades. I'll need to remove the empty ones, but that's later.
Bow. I had to take two – a large one and a hunting one. The large one only had three arrows. But the hunting bow (shorter and thinner ones) had over thirty. I abandoned the idea of cutting the arrows that hit the bandits' corpses: the tips would probably be bent, and there was no guarantee the arrows wouldn't break in the process. Besides, I'd waste a lot of time, and besides, I'd get so covered in blood that...
In general, people seemed to have a very irresponsible approach to archery: they drew the bowstring with their index and middle fingers, and didn't use arrow guides. At the same time, I recalled numerous images of our archers training, and I could confidently say that we shot completely differently. This accounts for our much greater accuracy, range, and rate of fire.
Although, without an archer's ring and an elven bow with specially grown arrows, I can't show much either...
I'll have to shoot carefully - the arrows aren't mine and I have to take into account that my first longbow broke in my hands.
I also took the two cloaks least damaged by my arrows from the bandits' bodies. True, they were both heavily stained with blood, but that could be washed off.
I slung my pack over my shoulders and sighed heavily. I was quite loaded. It seemed I hadn't brought much, but the weakness was starting to return. My only vindication was the presence of horses nearby.
As I passed through the clearing for the last time, I stopped next to the blond man's body and bowed my head before him in farewell. After standing there for a few seconds, I moved on.
The horses received me kindly: after all, I'm a light elf, and they view all living things quite favorably. The wolf from earlier doesn't count. He was kind of strange.
In their saddlebags, I found their food and packages of human provisions. I wanted to take everything, but I had to choose the best: pieces of ham, dried meat, lard, and crackers. Unfortunately, the bandits had only packed dry rations. No cereals or anything else, which indirectly confirms the bandit commander's claim about a temporary base half an hour's ride away.
By the way, it's important to keep in mind that the road may be under surveillance. Therefore, you'll have to leave your horse well before the turnoff to their base and eliminate any spies.
One of the horses was in better health and muscle. It was probably the commander's horse. A pleasing black coat. But its temperament wasn't exactly the best—the beast glared at me with a bulging eye. Perhaps, for its peace of mind, I should find it a mare? A post-horse, perhaps?
Having chosen a black-brown horse, I secured the collected food and my belongings to the saddle and tied its reins to the saddle of my horse.
That's all. I untied the remaining horses: it's quite possible that the first scavengers and predators will soon appear in the clearing, and it would be a shame if these sweet creatures were simply slaughtered. After all, it's quite possible that not only wolves but also bears and even cats might show up...
Carefully jumping into the saddle, I pulled the hood down even further and nudged the horse. He obediently broke into a trot.
Looking at the road, I noticed drops of crimson blood on it. Hmm. It's quite possible the bandit will die from blood loss. And even if not, this trail will definitely lead me where I need to go.
Time for a snack appeared, and I began munching on crackers. My thoughts were racing through the situation. One of them was that I didn't understand why the bandits had brought the hunters and peasants with them. I would have simply slaughtered them. But it's entirely possible I simply didn't know something. So, who could be among the escort? The village elder? Very likely. He could have brought a relative or relatives with him to town. If we slaughtered everyone right away, the elder might simply remain silent out of revenge and say nothing under torture. Especially under inept torture. But if they start slaughtering a relative in front of him...
What could the village elder know? Quite a lot: who the furs were sold to and the subsequent distribution channels.
Very interesting. There's clearly a leak in the inner circle. Someone knew for sure that the mayor would take a relative to the city. Someone knew the exact time, place, and cargo.
Of course, maybe the bandits were just plain lucky, but I highly doubt it. They're incredibly well armed. Too many coincidences.
This Selon and his minions deserve close attention. We'd better take him alive, otherwise such creatures might even take poison when they realize things are taking a dangerous turn.
In any case, I need to wait until sunset and start with the leader. And I really wanted to relax and shoot arrows at moving targets...
*****
Baron Tour, unlike many nobles, did not inherit his title from legendary (or not so legendary) ancestors. He received it on the battlefield from King Henry II for his unparalleled bravery and skill.
Back then, Tur Gaur was merely the commander of a hundred warriors, among whom the Necrotix Empire's creatures managed to crash. Of the hundred, only three survived: two disabled warriors and Tur.
While awarding him nobility, the king also chuckled about how soon he would have a full menagerie, hinting that his relative had the surname Dragon, and that there was also Count Wulf and two baron relatives with the surname Behr.
A powerful, usually calm, two-meter-tall, fair-haired northerner with gray eyes, he truly did seem to resemble a bull. Especially when he donned his terrifying helmet, adorned with special steel horns.
Many said that Gaur was terrifying in his rage, and could easily lose himself on the battlefield. Evil tongues also whispered that during that memorable battle, it was Tur who killed half of his men, apparently lacking the undead.
As a reward, Gaur was given a barony that was far from wealthy, but it nonetheless had many problems: on one side it bordered the elven forests, on another were mountains, and on the third, it shared a small border with the kingdom of Zarzan, which had recently been pursuing a controversial policy. On top of all this, the mountains were inhabited by all sorts of creatures, from cave orcs who managed to cross the ridge to black and red dragons. Fortunately, the latter rarely ventured into the valley and did not bother the people.
However, the baron proved himself to be a more than diligent manager and quickly restored order to the lands entrusted to him: he reined in bureaucrats, mended ties with the commander of the border garrison and the mayor of the small town that had sprung up around the fortress. Little by little, things in the barony improved. The baron even managed to organize dispersed hunters and hunters to supply the valuable fur of mountain cats. Even the aging king began wearing a magnificent mantle made from fur harvested in the small barony of Tura.
And now - this.
Having received information from trusted sources that someone named Selon was planning to attack the caravan, the baron raised the alarm and rushed to meet the caravan, but... he arrived too late.
The caravan is gone. The escort has been killed. Among them is the baron's illegitimate son.
The baron kept an eye on his son and even held out some hope that one day he would be able to be recognized. Now he'll have to be buried...
Tur knelt before his body and, removing his heavy glove, covered the dead man's eyes with his fingers. His teeth gritted and he spoke heavily:
- I'll take revenge. I'll get it anywhere...
Then one of the local hunters, an elven half-breed, of whom there were quite a few among the locals, ran up to him and said respectfully:
- Mr. Baron, there is something strange here...
Gaur turned around:
- What?
The half-breed turned around and pointed to the bushes:
- Someone killed two robbers here. Just now.
The baron straightened up and followed the hunter:
- Someone from ours?
"I don't think so, Baron," he quickly licked his lips. They entered the bushes and stopped in front of the first two corpses. "See for yourself. The cut was made with a very thin and extremely sharp weapon. A very clean cut. Not a sword. And it was done very cruelly. Someone clearly hated them..."
"Maybe these are our own?" the baron suggested, looking with interest into the neck, which was cut almost to the cervical vertebrae.
The hunter, clearly doubting the assumption, shrugged. Another half-breed emerged from the bushes. His face was as pale as mountain snow. He exhaled:
- There's still... A lot... - he exhaled twitchingly.
The tour whistled briefly, attracting attention, and, beckoning with a wave of his hand for a dozen soldiers to follow him, hurried after the hunters.
The picture of carnage that unfolded impressed him.
The hunters began circling around like hounds on a hare's trail. At one point, they even dropped to all fours and began noisily sniffing the ground. But then, silently, they immediately jumped up and began scurrying among the trees again.
One of the soldiers, with a long gray moustache, crouched down in front of the mountain of weapons and pulled one of the swords piled up in a heap from its scabbard.
The Baron also joined him.
- Rance, what do you think?
"These are no ordinary bandits," he replied, and continued, "Very good steel. They forge it in the south. And notice – all the swords are the same."
Tur hissed in response and exhaled:
- Will you tell me who?
- There's no brand. I'm afraid it's Zarzan.
- And what do you say about the one who put them?
The gray-mustached man smiled crookedly:
"I think it's the elves," he nodded behind the baron, "If I've already figured it out, then Haalen and his friend probably knew from the very beginning, as soon as they saw it."
The Baron stood up and walked over to the first half-breed, who was standing near one of the trees and looking at the ground and then at the bodies.
- Well, Haalen?
The half-breed looked up at Tur and began speaking in short, clipped phrases:
- A lone wolf. Weakened. Elite. Forest. Helped. - He pointed to the slightly pecked earth and the remains of a bow: - Shot. From here. Broke. Bow. - His speech came to life a little, and his eyes even sparkled: - Used a decoy: wounded one and dragged him into the forest. The others followed him and he killed them. Tortured the main one for quite a long time. Then he killed him too, and then looted for a short time: gathered what he needed and left. Left the jewelry, but took the money.
- Are you sure you're single?
He rolled his eyes for a second and repeated:
- The forest helped him. I think he's wounded.
- Don't know where you came from?
Haalen turned away and leaned to the left, looking straight ahead. Then to the right. Then, without turning around, he said:
"There are few traces, and Les doesn't want to talk. But from somewhere there..." He waved his hand eloquently. Turning back to the Baron, the half-breed said, "But overall, this is all very strange. He's very absent-minded. I think he's wounded or weakened. He took the food and ate it right here. And he's cruel. Perhaps regular troops."
The Baron even tilted his head to his right shoulder:
- An elf from the regular troops?
The half-breed nodded slowly:
"We need to count the swords and everything else: we'll figure out what he took. And based on that, we can make some assumptions."
A second half-breed appeared from the undergrowth and said:
"There are horses in the forest. Lots of them. I'll catch them and bring them to the clearing—let someone take care of them."
Tur nodded in agreement and decided not to dwell on the fact that the hunter had not shown due respect: the situation had clearly knocked the ground out from under the half-breeds' feet.
The baron himself was seriously perplexed. The fact was that only magically gifted individuals served (or rather, 'consisted'?) in the regular elven armies (both light and dark). They had spent decades, even centuries, honing their skills in killing. A lone elf in the regular army meant trouble. And a big one.
It wasn't even a matter of the elf killing someone, but rather that his kin might be looking for him. A hundred irritated long-ears prowling the barony's forests wasn't something Tur had ever dreamed of. Everyone knew the "eternals" had their own morals, their own laws, and their own logic. They could easily shoot all the half-breeds to preserve the "purity of their blood." Or they could, on the contrary, create a circus.
But all this was nothing compared to the possible civil war rumored to be brewing in the Great Forest. It's entirely possible that this wounded elf is the bearer of dire news.
Tour looked up at the half-breed, who was quickly shifting his gaze back and forth from the broken bow and pecked earth to the sprawled corpses of the bandits.
"Haalen, you still keep in touch with your father, right?" He nodded warily, and Thor continued: "You could ask him: has anything happened in the Great Forest lately..." The baron made a splashing motion with his hands and continued: "...like that?"
The half-breed answered understandingly:
- I'll ask.
Suddenly, a second hunter appeared among the trees. The half-breed ran up to them and quickly said:
"There I found the former parking place of the bandits' horses. He took two and simply let the rest go. And then he set off after them."
The Baron narrowed his eyes:
- Can we follow the trail?
The half-breed nodded:
- There are drops of blood on the road - either one of the bandits left wounded, or it was planned that way.
The Baron turned to the soldiers gathered, awaiting orders:
"Gather the bodies of both our men and the bandits. Rance—you're responsible for ensuring nothing is stolen: I'll present this evidence to Sir Rien. Catch the horses, take another look around, and head back to the city. Trout, Sven—you and your men are with me..."
****
After some time of slow trotting, I saw a tall pine tree that stood out noticeably against the background of the other trees.
I immediately stopped the horse and, gently sliding from the saddle to the ground, led both steeds by the reins deeper into the forest. The horses accepted the halt with goodwill.
Having tied them up, I picked up a short bow and slung a quiver of arrows over my back. I hope my mounts will be quiet and won't be attacked by a predator in my absence...
Nocking an arrow, I began to glide through the undergrowth. Returning to the road, I began moving along it, carefully watching the undergrowth, trying to spot any observers. The sun seemed to be beginning to set, and the forest slowly began to sink into darkness.
It's not true that light elves can't see at night. We see very well both day and night. But dark elves, living in the darkness, see much better at night than we do. However, the forest isn't their territory. Here, even blind light elves feel more at home than sighted dark elves. The rustling of leaves, birds, nocturnal animals... all this creates a noise barrier in which we feel like a fish in water.
The road took a sharp turn here, and through the trees I suddenly saw a slowly trudging horse with the boy from earlier lying limply on its back, my arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Had he really died from blood loss? I was lucky he hadn't reached the base. Now the element of surprise was on my side.
But at that moment, three men in dark green cloaks jumped out of the forest, carrying short bows.
What a demon! So there are observers after all.
One of the bandits grabbed the reins and led the horse along a barely visible path between the trees. The other two began slapping the boy's cheeks, trying to bring him to his senses. One of them wanted to lift him from the saddle, but changed his mind. The bandits began holding the boy so he wouldn't fall off his horse.
Quickly running, I shifted my position to get into the forest ahead of them. When they were within fifteen paces, I fired an arrow first at the bandit on the other side of my horse, then immediately afterward fired another at the one leading the horse. The arrows weren't powerful enough to knock them down, but they were enough to pierce their necks. The third bandit was so taken by surprise that he could only watch in shock as the man in front of him fell to his knees, wheezing, and clutched the shaft of his arrow. He opened his mouth, apparently to scream in terror, but my third arrow struck him in the eye, and he simply fell backwards, silent.
The bandit in the distance, an arrow sticking out of his neck, turned and ran back, hunched over. It seemed either he was physically very strong, or I hadn't hit the Adam's apple as I intended. Perhaps the stele had slipped.
The horse's rump, which had frozen in confusion in the middle of the road and found itself between us, prevented me from firing a second arrow. I burst out of the undergrowth and quickly ran after it, determined to pursue. As I passed the wounded bandit kneeling on the ground, I kicked him hard in the face, knocking him onto his back.
Just then, I caught sight of the wounded animal's back, and I stopped and quickly fired two arrows into his back, one after the other. They both hit the bandit right under the left shoulder blade. After running two more steps, he collapsed onto the withered leaves.
I bend down sharply and, drawing my stiletto from my bracer, immediately drive it into the bandit's right eye, still twitching at my feet. I twist the narrow blade in the wound with a crunch, pull it out, and, quickly wiping it on the other man's cloak, put it back with a soft click.
I check the pulse of the guy on the horse. Wow – he's dead.
I quickly searched the dead.
Unfortunately, aside from a few silver and copper coins, I found nothing useful: their bows and other weapons were identical to those of the previous bandits. This confirmed my theory that the sabotage unit was either generously divided or composed of locals.
Having quickly sorted through the arrows in other people's quivers, I replaced a few in my own quiver, and also selected a dozen more and, taking them in my right hand, dived into the forest again, running like a silent shadow parallel to the road.
After three thousand steps, I smelled smoke from a campfire, distant voices, and the neighing of horses. It seemed the bandits' base was nearby.
Starting to slide even more carefully, I moved closer and looked around.
The bandits used a nice natural clearing as their camp. They felled a few pine trees along the edges, covered them with rough cloth, and set up a sort of separate barracks and a shed for the horses. They had a kitchen, a dining room, and even an armory. Overall, it was pretty good for a temporary camp. The only problem was their toilet—even standing on the other side of it, I could smell the stench. Although, maybe it's just my overly sensitive sense of smell?
Apparently, the bandits with the captured caravan had arrived recently: most of them were busy sorting and tying up the captives. Some were also tending to the captured horses, and a couple of others were cackling and kicking someone on the ground.
I quickly counted the bandits: four sentries perched in the trees in makeshift cradles. The archers—we had to take them out first. The remaining twenty-two, including the rather giggling leader, Selon. Too many. And how could they capture the leader alive under these conditions?
Sure, there are a couple of tricks, but if they don't work... At best, Selon might commit suicide, and at worst, he'll escape. He'll just jump on his horse in the confusion and that's it. If I had a rope, I could set a trap along the road. But what's not there, isn't there. I dismissed the idea of going to the enemy camp after dark to get it: too risky.
Meanwhile, events in the camp began to unfold. The bandits stopped kicking someone on the ground, and one of them grabbed the man by the leg and pulled him aside. Judging by the long hair, it was probably a girl in boyish clothes. Although, of course, it could have been a boy.
The old gray-haired grandfather was hoisted to his feet and, under Selon's supervision, quickly tied to a tree trunk.
Looks like this old man is the leader of the caravan. He took the girl into town to shop and see people. I have a feeling she'll have enough to see for the rest of her life. If she survives, I'll even show her what some people look like from the inside. Hee-hee.
His lips were about to stretch into a cruel grin, but the wound from the wolf's fangs tugged at his cheek unpleasantly.
With the grandfather and the girl, there were nine captives. Although one of the narrow-faced guys, judging by his appearance and my... feelings?... wasn't quite 'human.' There was something about him that felt like family. Incidentally, I sensed it in the girl as well. Though less strongly. Our blood? Oh, never mind.
Twilight. It's time.
Of course, they should have waited until nightfall, but Selon gave a command and, laughing loudly, headed toward the toilet. They grabbed the girl by the scruff of the neck and hauled her to the nearest cart, where they began tying her to its side.
I ran silently and quickly to intercept the leader, keeping the others in check. Interestingly, no one could detect or hear my presence or movements, but the half-breed boy suddenly looked up and fixed his gaze on the spot where I had been. Then his gaze began to follow me. He sensed something. Magic, perhaps?
Selon casually walked into the bushes, removed his leather pants, and squatted down, apparently about to take a crap. With that, he disappeared from the guards' sight.
Having leaned the arrows and bow that I was holding in my hands against one of the trees along my path, I easily managed to approach the leader of the bandits unnoticed.
Trying not to step into the mess, I ran up silently from the side and punched Selon in the jaw. Of course, I could have knocked him out with a more exotic method, but I had no time to waste: the blow had been completely unexpected and powerful enough to knock him unconscious. Grabbing his falling body, I quickly dragged him deeper into the bushes, choking him along the way, just in case.
However, while I wasn't making any noise, Selon's bulk was quite a sight. I had to pull his pants up over his butt and sling him over my shoulder. Meanwhile, I suddenly discovered that carrying a man wasn't a problem for me. And he was tall and stocky, clothed and armed.
Having carried him a hundred paces into the thicket, I, taking advantage of my victim's unconsciousness, quickly searched him and took all his weapons. A sword in its sheath, two daggers, a stiletto boot. Having looked in his mouth just in case for the false tooth laced with poison, I pulled his belt from his pants and used it to tie his hands behind his back.
It's actually strange that no poison was found. Perhaps I overestimated this group?
I kick Selone hard in the side of the knee, breaking his leg. Oh, what will happen when he comes to!
Grabbing the stolen weapon in my arms, I carried it about fifty steps away and simply dumped it between the roots.
Returning to camp, I picked up my bow and arrows again. I need to get going—they'll be missing the leader soon, and I still have a lot of people to kill before then...
How to kill so that a person (and not only them) can't scream before death? It's simple – you need to catch them on the exhale.
Inhale. Draw the bowstring back. Feel the target. Release. The click of the bowstring against the glove. The first guard took an arrow to the heart and remained sitting in his cradle. The second's death was similar. When the third died, the bowstring snapped quite loudly, but the bandits were absorbed in ripping the clothes off the battered girl. Honestly, I don't know why they got so excited – she's so skinny and has almost no breasts. Although, maybe they've been sitting here, far from civilization, in ambush for months? And with such hunger...
The last, fourth guard, it turned out, was perched precariously in the tree, and my arrow knocked him off. Luckily, he missed a few branches on his way down, and only crashed onto the ground, breaking some dry brush.
I glanced around the camp, slightly frightened. Fortunately, no one paid any attention. Only the half-breed stared at the spot where the archer had fallen. The other prisoners watched with hatred in their eyes as the bandits stripped the girl, who had regained consciousness and was crying, and began to mock her.
However, not everyone was there. Two people in the kitchen began preparing food, while three bandits headed for the last cart. When they removed the cover, they discovered five dead bodies lay within. Apparently, the baron's soldiers had managed to put up a fight after all. One of the bandits brought two spades from the tent, and the three, lighting torches, headed into the bushes to dig a grave.
I followed them. The bandits had moved only a short distance away—about fifteen paces. They planted their torches in the ground and quickly began clearing a space in the undergrowth. After hesitating for a moment over my choice of weapon, I set my bow aside again and smoothly drew my swords from their sheaths. Reversing my grip, tucking the blades behind my back so the glare of the flames on the metal wouldn't attract attention, I simply ran quickly between the three bandits. Appearing among them for a second, I dealt two of them a swift blow, decapitating them. The third, however, required more attention—he was at a very awkward angle, so I had to not only sever his spine in two places but also strike him hard in the temple with the hilt of my sword.
A second later, I vanished back into the forest. The bandits had fallen successfully: their bodies were barely visible from the camp. However, if you looked closely, you could see the blood generously spattered on the leaves in the torchlight.
But while the bandits hadn't noticed my emergence from the shadows, two more men had joined the half-breed. The old man, too, squinted as he studied the bushes into which I'd disappeared.
Well, that makes fourteen. Sure, my bow isn't as good, but I have a ton of arrows. And I feel much better.
"Hey, Selon!" one of the bandits shouted. "Are we starting without you?"
He looked out from behind the cart with the little girl tied to him and looked questioningly into the bushes in which the leader had disappeared.
I grinned broadly, ignoring the pain in my cheek, and shot him in the eye. The transition was so abrupt that the bandits didn't even realize at first why he'd fallen backwards, and, out of inertia, they just stared at him in shock.
Only when two more fell with arrows in their eye sockets did they begin to rush in panic between the carts.
I began running from place to place, shooting arrow after arrow at the bandits. It was clearly amusement: one received as many as three arrows in his hand, while another received an arrow in the knee. Chaos reigned—the wounded begged for help and cursed each other. Two bandits rushed into the forest without looking where they were going. Unfortunately for them, they ran when none of the wounded could stand. So I easily caught up with them and put an arrow through the heart from two steps, first one, then the other.
Returning to the clearing, I studied the groaning wounded and prisoners again, deciding what to do next.
I could have simply left. Without even releasing the prisoners. Interrogate Selon in the thicket and then decide whether to contact the baron or not. But that's a bit much.
One of the prisoners shouted:
- Hey! Help us! They attacked us! They killed the escort! Another squad should be back soon!
Pulling my hood deeper over my face, I emerged from the forest behind them and, quietly approaching behind them, I quietly said:
- He won't come back. I killed them all.
They flinched at the sound of my voice, and when I walked around them, they stared at me in surprise. I approached one of the bandits, who was crawling in terror from me, and drew my sword. I stepped on his chest with my right foot, pinning his pleading man to the ground. I slowly drew the sword from its sheath and, with a swift blow, severed his head. Bending over the twitching body, I removed the sheath containing the dagger from my belt and, turning, returned to the captives.
Approaching the half-breed, who had closed his eyes in fear, I said:
- Stretch out your arms.
When he timidly did what was asked, I cut the ropes with my sword and threw him a dagger, saying:
- You are free. Free the others.
One of the wounded bandits, thinking that I had forgotten about them, managed to get up on all fours and quickly climbed into the forest.
He would also decide to hide from the shark by diving into the sea...
Snorting contentedly, I dove back into the forest and almost immediately caught up with the fugitive. Or rather, the 'crawler.'
With another cheerful snort, I ran and kicked the bandit in the side. The blow was very powerful: the guy, who cried out in pain, was lifted off the ground and thrown back almost three steps.
Curled up in a fetal position, he vomited blood.
Grabbing him by the leg, I dragged the bandit back out of the forest.
The half-breed had already freed himself and cut the ropes of the man who had seen me kill the 'gravediggers'.
I headed towards my grandfather, who, tied to a tree, was watching me closely.
As I came closer, he said:
"I thank the representative of the Eternals for the assistance rendered. In return, you can count on any service I can provide. And, I believe, on Baron Tours as well."
- Hm? - I asked with interest, walking around him.
To ask? That girl to relax? Why?
Pfft!
After slashing the ropes on my grandfather's wrists and ankles with my sword, I stepped back and said:
"Thank you for the offer. I'll think about it. Look after the wounded. In principle, you can kill them: I don't need them." And I dive into the forest again.
The bandit leader still hasn't come to. Lucky. Otherwise, he'd be screaming in pain and would have to be knocked out.
Throwing it over my shoulder, I slowly carried it back.
On the way, I remembered the abandoned weapon, taken from Selon, and, making a detour, returned for it.
The camp greeted me with bustle. The former prisoners had gathered the few wounded bandits into a group. There were only three of them, if you count the blood-spitting runner on all fours. Two men were assisting them.
The girl, sniffling her broken nose, timidly wrapped herself in a piece of rough cloth. A half-breed boy, cursing, was stripping one of the corpses. At first, I thought he was looting too, but then I realized he was doing it for the girl, and the initial surge of contempt vanished. Besides, I'd recently done the same thing myself. Why should I judge anyone?
When I emerged into the light, everyone turned to look at me in surprise. I waved vaguely at my grandfather and headed for the same cart where the little girl was tied. After pushing the unconscious Selon back against the cart wheel, I hummed an intricate melody and busily peered over the side. The coil of rope lay where the bandits had thrown it. Retrieving it, I removed the belt, untying the bandit's hands. Immediately after that, I began tightly tying Selon's legs and arms to the edges of the cart. I tried to stretch him, but it didn't work—the rope sagged, and the bandit leader hung on it like a piece of meat.
Having tied him around the waist as well, I was satisfied.
An old man came up to me and, hesitating, asked:
- Um-m-m... What are you going to do with him?
I shrugged slightly:
"Torture. The marauding squad's commander said Selon was from Zarzan. Considering their weapons are identical and this gang is generally very well equipped, I think they didn't attack you without a reason, but on someone's tip. It's entirely possible that this Selon's squad is a harbinger of a major war."
The old man swallowed and turned very pale:
- Oh, Light-Blonde Gods, are we really going to come to this?
I snorted expressively and replied:
- We'll find out from him. I'll run into the forest now - I have two horses there with supplies. Besides, there's a horse and four corpses on the road. While I'm gone, drag them here. - I looked at the wounded and added: - And these - still kill them: remember - if it weren't for me, what would they have done to you?
But the old man said firmly:
"We are not them, and we will not do that. But we will not interfere with you either, if you decide to take their lives."
I snorted and approached the wounded. Drawing my sword from its sheath, I swung it at the men, their eyes tightly closed in fear. But at that moment, someone nearby began to sob. Turning my head toward the sound, I saw horror and despair in the girl's blue eyes. A huge bruise was rapidly forming under her eye.
Unexpectedly, I felt an incredible surge of pity. But not for them. For her.
I sheathed my sword. At least, not in front of her. The girl had had enough nightmares for today. And while Selon was being tortured, it would be best to get her out of here...
Looking down at the bandits who had timidly opened their eyes, I said, addressing them:
"You have nowhere to run. Don't even think about doing anything in my absence. I single-handedly killed your entire gang and will find you anywhere if necessary." Turning to the elder, I add: "Tie them up and don't leave either them or Selon unattended."
Grandfather nodded. I dove into the forest again.
I headed straight through the thicket to my horses. I not only wanted to save time, but also wanted to look for a fairly common herb used for torture. No, no, it didn't loosen tongues. But its juice, when applied to an open wound, caused terrible torment. Like salt, only much stronger.
Oh, there it is! It's just blooming. I could collect some pollen while I'm at it. Ah, but I don't have a vial of any kind. The pollen of this lovely flower, if it gets into the blood, causes horrific torment and a fairly quick death. It's a nasty thing. Naturally, I won't use the pollen for torture. But pouring it into the special grooves on the arrowhead...
Having picked a whole bouquet along the way, I finally reached my horses. Stuffing the flowers into my saddlebag, I was about to head for the road, but I heard a large detachment of horsemen galloping along it. The clatter of hooves and the snorting of the horses discouraged me from attempting to escape the thicket in this manner, and I headed back the way I had come.