* * * * *
The stillness of the night was suddenly pierced by a high, shrill whistle. Immediately, Traven began to hear death screams from in front of the camp. The screams were followed by more screams until they were drowned out by shouts of rage and battle cries. He wished he knew what was happening at the front of the camp. Suddenly, five shapes emerged from the darkness in front of him running at full speed parallel to the river. Traven’s heart skipped a beat as he quickly pointed them out to the other guard.
“They must have been crawling along the bank of the river! Maybe you’re not as lucky as I thought,” the guard said as he and Traven jumped down in front of the wagon drawing their swords. They were immediately joined by another guard who had been guarding the hole in the wagons to their left.
“It looks like you fellas could use some help,” he said with a grin.
The guards to either side of Traven crouched, bracing to meet their attackers. Traven was suddenly paralyzed with fear as he realized for the first time that night that he had no idea what to do in a sword fight. It was too late now. He gripped the hilt of his sword as hard as he could as the five attackers swiftly approached the three of them. A wagon at the front of the camp suddenly burst into flames as the guard on his left jumped forward to meet the lead attacker. Their swords crashed in a burst of sparks as the rest of the attackers caught up. Traven took a step back and tumbled backwards over a rock just as a sword swiped through where his body would have been. His would be murderer cursed and raised his sword a second time to kill Traven but instead screamed as a sword suddenly burst from his chest in a spray of blood.
Traven scrambled to his feet as the man crumpled to the ground. The guard who had saved his life was already battling another attacker. The other guard was fighting two men at the same time with the body of the lead attacker already at his feet. The guard’s sword hacked into one of the attackers while the other attacker’s mace came crushing down on his head, splitting it. The guard crumpled to the ground along with the two men he had killed, and the man with the mace turned his cruel gaze on Traven. The other guard finished off his attacker and hurried to Traven’s side.
The lone attacker left did not appear worried to face two people at once and dropped his mace as he unsheathed his sword. He feined an attack at the guard and swiped at Traven. Traven threw his sword up in front of him in terror, and the attacker’s sword glanced off of it and took a chunk from Traven’s thigh. He fell to the ground with a yelp as the attacker immediately blocked the guard’s sword that flew at his head and gutted him with a long dagger that had suddenly appeared in his hand. The amazed guard stumbled back with the dagger’s hilt protruding from his belly as the attacker finished him off with a quick swipe of his sword. Traven was back on his feet as the attacker turned to him laughing.
“It’s almost too easy,” he spat as he slowly approached Traven with murder glowing in his eyes.
Traven took a step back and almost fainted as the wound on his leg sent a flood of pain through his body. The attacker’s sword suddenly flashed and its tip opened a gash on Traven’s left arm as he jumped back. He knew his time to die had come. His attacker lunged at him. Traven threw up his sword in self-defense and screamed as he fell backwards over a dead body. The attacker’s body came crashing down on top of him, driving him into the ground. The man’s eyes bulged inches away from Traven’s face. The man’s body convulsed and blood trickled from his gaping mouth as his head crashed down lifelessly into Traven’s.
* * * * *
Meritza cringed as she heard the screams of death coming from the front of the camp. She hoped that she did not lose any of her guards in the attack. Hopefully the thieves would make a run for it when they realized that this was not going to be an easy caravan to take. Why was Drake so headstrong? Why must he always lead the attack into the oncoming enemy? She knew he would have no trouble beating anyone he faced, but she still wished he would be more careful. At least Traven would be safe guarding the flank. She did not know if she would be able to bear having the sweet, young man’s death on her conscience. She shouldn’t have let him come along, but she had never thought that this many thieves would attack them at once. It was obvious he had not worn a sword for long by the way he walked with it. Oh well, she thought, if everything works out, he won’t have to use his sword. Meritza quit thinking about the boy and turned her attention back to the dark countryside. One of her wagons suddenly burst into flame, illuminating the night.
She gasped as five men suddenly emerged from the bank of the river not far off and headed towards her at a run. Slade saw the men also, and they both jumped down to face them. Jared should have joined them, but he was not at his post between the wagons. Slade rushed forward to meet the men. Meritza yelled for him to come back, but he did not stop. In his eagerness to protect her, he died after only taking down two attackers with him. She quickly let her two knives fly into the remaining attackers as they approached her. Blood suddenly bloomed from a chest as her knife slammed into the leading attacker. Her other knife missed its mark and lodged into the arm of another attacker who howled in pain. Meritza quickly pulled her last knife from her sash and scrambled up the wagon behind her. Where was Jared? She braced herself to fight to the death as the remaining two attackers reached the base of the wagon.
* * * * *
Traven pushed the smelly corpse off of him and wiped the blood from his eyes as he got unsteadily to his feet. He looked down at the dead attacker in amazement as he rubbed his head. He had somehow gotten his sword up in time, and in his rush to kill Traven, the thief had been skewered by it. The whole length of the sword’s blade protruded from the back of the man. Traven looked numbly at the carnage around him and labored for breath. The pain coming from his arm and thigh threatened to bring him back to his knees. Staring down, he watched in shock as his blood ran to the ground mingling with that of the dead. Traven shook with sobs as he realized how close he had been to dying. Screams continued to come from the front of camp and steel rang on steel. He thought about trying to retrieve his sword, but he did not have enough strength. As he slowly made his way into the camp between the two wagons, he heard a woman’s scream. The camp was in turmoil with horses running everywhere with fright. He tried to focus amidst the mayhem. The women who were supposed to be keeping the horses under control were nowhere to be seen.
The woman screamed again, and Traven froze as he realized who the scream had come from. Atop the wagon on the far side of camp, Meritza fought desperately to fend off two attackers, her hair blazing to match the fiery inferno of the wagon at the front of camp. He had to do something. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stumbled towards her. He had not even taken two steps when a horse crashed into his right side, throwing him to the ground. He tried to get up but did not have the strength. He began to crawl towards Meritza with his hand stretched towards her. He had to do something. He had to do something. He had to. He had to!
All of the turmoil around him slowly faded away to nothing as he focused on Meritza’s attackers. Time slowed and disappeared. The air around the motionless attackers seemed to shimmer in Traven’s eyes and grow thicker. Wisps of the very fabric of life began to form into jagged lines from the sky towards the two attackers. All was still but the jagged lines slowly emerging through the air. Traven was suddenly snapped from his calm as he smashed into a solid wall of nothingness. The world rushed back. He grabbed at his burning chest and screamed in pain as his shirt burst into flames. He shot to his feet, filling the cool night air with a blood curdling scream as his flesh burned. He was suddenly thrown into the air as another horse smashed into him. He flew through the dark in agonizing pain for a harrowing moment before he crashed into freezing water, and the world disappeared in blackness.
* * * * *
Wraith spun around looking in every direction. He had just been about to kill another unsuspecting guard when the black stone in his pocket had leaped into life. The stone had suddenly grown warm, but instead of turning solid red as he had been told it would, it stayed black with veins of red lancing across it. He had then heard an agonizing scream from the back of the camp, and the stone returned immediately to normal. It had all happened so fast that he almost didn’t believe that the stone had changed, but he knew what he had seen. Wraith did not believe in coincidences. The rock had returned to normal right after the scream. The scream had been that of a tall, young man. Where that young man was now, he didn’t know. He didn’t see anyone who fit the description, but he had heard enough screams in his career. He would be on the lookout for someone that roughly fit that description.
Wraith turned back to the job at hand. He slowly crept up behind the foolish guard who was completely focused on keeping anyone from breaking between the wagons and into the camp. Wraith silently pulled his metal wire taut between his fists as he stepped up behind the guard. In one quick and practiced motion Wraith took care of him. The guard crumpled to the ground silently. The archers would be next. Wraith hurriedly moved in silence to another wagon and more victims.
* * * * *
Rodham loosed another bolt into the mass, dropping another of the thieves. He had heard an anguished scream earlier from within the camp, but when he had looked back, all that he saw were the horses running wild. Only four of the guards were still on horses. The other four had lasted for quite a while before falling prey to the crowd. As Rodham looked on, another guard was dragged from his horse. The bowmen on the wagon to his right had quit shooting for some reason. The guards who had been with him had gone to check on the situation moments before, but they never returned. Rodham didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t good. He carefully aimed his crossbow and took out another thief. He wasn’t sure how long the horsemen would last. There were only seven thieves left, but they were being very careful to avoid the slashing swords of the guards. He loaded another bolt onto his crossbow and carefully aimed for another of the bandits. He suddenly felt a presence behind him, and then he felt no more.
* * * * *
Wraith threw down the crossbow as the last of the horsemen fell to the ground. That one had killed two more of his thieves before he could put a bolt in him. He was extremely upset. The ground surrounding the camp was heaped with the bodies of his men. He had lost over a hundred thieves fighting a mere twenty guards. These thieves who claimed to be able to fight were pitiful excuses for men. Only two were left standing among the carnage. He leaped from the wagon and joined the two of them. He instructed them to round up as many of the horses as they could and load them up with the most valuable things from the wagons. Wraith busied himself with looking for the body of the young man, but none of the men from the camp were young enough. His search yielded nothing except for a plain sword that was extremely well made. He slipped it behind his sash after pulling it out from one of his best men. He knew that he was not mistaken about the scream but had no idea how the young man had escaped. He would wait around for a day or two and see if the young man returned. With that, he decided that he had worked with the others long enough. He lit the rest of the wagons on fire and then finished up what the merchant guards had begun. A few seconds later, Wraith led the laden horses away from the decimated camp in the company of no one but himself.
10
The large man watched as flames blazed into the night sky from the top of the hill up the river. It looked as though the thieves had struck again. He wished he could do something about the rotten vermin that hid during the day and struck as cowards during the night. However, there were too many of them for him to do anything. When he had chanced upon them, he had counted over a hundred. He turned from watching the blaze and walked down to the river to get a drink before he settled back down for the rest of the night.
As he bent down and cupped his hands, he was startled to see a body being pulled down the river towards him. Darn thieves littering the water with their victims. He waded into the river and grabbed hold of the body as it came by. He dragged the body out of the river and stopped in surprise. The young man was still alive! He quickly moved the body up the embankment to his camp. What had the thieves done to him! His arm and leg were gashed and his shirt had been burned through to the skin. He was also beginning to show bruises all over his body, including a lump on his head. The poor kid would be in a lot of pain when he woke up, if he woke up. The cold water had luckily stopped the bleeding. The man quickly stripped off the remains of the clothes, dried him, and dressed the wounds of the young man and covered him in warm blankets. He did not want to risk a fire with the thieves so close. He just hoped the boy could hold on until the sun came up in the morning.