Things never go Smooth - with Blood Orange, Angel Food and Marshmallow
Author:Jon
Rating: PG - 13 - Some Violence
Challenge: Angel Food #11 - Thou Shalt Not
Blood Orange #6 - A Call to Arms
Marshmallow #3 -Rocking a Baby
Word Count: 1973
Story: Separate Paths
Notes: I've never liked bandits. Plus, Lethia gets some confidence back and Pedah screws up.
“You know what to do?”
Pedah sighed. “Yes, Emala. Wait for the signal and if that fails wait for you to charge. It’s a simple plan.”
Emala shrugged. “The smart ones usually are. Less can go wrong with them. You have plenty of hotheads with you, Pedah. And the bandits might have started their...fun. The priority here is to keep our people alive, then to save them.”
The former Holy Knight grit his teeth, but nodded. Emala relaxed after a moment. “I know it goes against your nature. It’s the same for the rest of us. But in the end we’ll save more of them and take less wounds ourselves if we attack at the same time. There’s enough of them to do serious harm to just one group. They’ll be cut down in seconds by three.”
Pedah nodded again, this time more happily. “Mark.” the Golem’s deep voice announced the point where the first group would break off.
“Let’s go, soldiers! Let’s prove the money we’re being paid!” Pedah hopped down easily, followed by his chosen troops and Ixis. The steam wagon rattled along as they vanished into the woods.
“Have your people taken care of all the sentries?” The Golem looked over at Piran.
The Kamere leader shrugged. “As best we can.” His eyes went distant for a moment. “We don’t see any more, and none have tried to warn the main group.”
The Golem grunted. “It’ll do. These people aren’t exactly the Palace Guard. I’d be surprised if most of them can even hold a sword right.”
Emala looked into the woods. “Don’t count on that. If they’re ex soldiers turned bandits we could have a problem on our hands. Most of the time, they go merc instead but if they were deserters or some such...”
The Golem nodded. He hefted a massive sword with a long handle in one hand and an equally huge twin shot pistol in the other. “Coming up on our target.”
Emala turned and noted the wood smoke ahead. The bandits had likely burned whatever they didn’t want to steal, and only taken some small carts or wagons for their loot. “Everyone ready to go?” There was a short chorus of ascent and a comment about chicken soup from Raziela. “Alright then. When we hit the attack sight, the wagon will slow enough for us to disembark.”
The group hit the ground easily and slipped quickly into the forest. Emala didn’t both looking closely at the wagons. She knew there were some things she didn’t need to see again.
The Golem took point. Despite his damaged leg and the frame he wore to support it, he moved with speed and almost as silently as the smaller, lighter members of the group. She’d heard of assassin Golems being made, ones almost impossible to see or hear coming, and she could believe it after seeing him. With the correct equipment...
The trail of a dozen bandits and their captives wasn’t hard to follow, but the Golem quickly moved into the undergrowth besides the trail rather than following it directly. Although it would be slower, the third group would take some time to be in place and so they had the time to make sure they weren’t spotted early. She did not want this to become a hostage situation - most of her people did not have the temperament for that to end anyway but a blood bath.
The Golem raised his hand suddenly, stopping them. For a moment he watched before gesturing them to move slowly forwards. Creeping forward and careful to avoid any of the dryer branches in the undergrowth, Emala was able to see into the camp set up by the bandits.
Her gaze quickly spotted the captured people. Most were women, with a couple of young men looking angrily at their captors and a handful of children. One woman was even rocking a baby in her arms, it’s thin cries barely reaching them.
They were being guarded by three of the bandits. One of them was giving the women a distinctly unpleasant look. The rest were gathered around a cooking fire with something bubbling in a soot darkened pot, arguing over some of the loot. Off to one side was a rather fine looking tent. No doubt the chief or commanders.
The bandits were a ragged looking lot. If they had ever been military it had been some time ago. There was evidence of a uniform of some sort, and many shared the same style of armour, but various repairs and replacements made them now anything but uniform.
She looked over at Piran, who raised a finger and pointed to the East with a nod, then to the West with a shake of his head. So Pedah and his group were in place already. They must have made exceptional time to be there already. The third group was still moving in. Piran held up five fingers, then four, then five again. Between four and five minutes, then. That should be possible.
Emala settled, and began to study the various weapons they had when one of the group guarding the prisoners yanked a girl to her feet. “Reckon this one will like me?” he asked one of his fellows, who turned away with a shake of his head. “I won’t hurt you, pretty girl.”
The young woman looked at him for a moment. “You’re lying,” she replied. “You want to torture me, rape me and then watch me die. You do it every time.”
The bandit blinked and pushed her away. “Oh aye? And who's been spreading tales, girl?”
“Your soul did.”
The bandit snarled and reached for a knife when a blast of lightning punched him off his feet. Within seconds Pedah’s group charged, Ixis throwing lighting with one hand and fire with the other.
Emala swore. The bandits were startled, but not for long. a call to arms pierced the air, a shrill whistle to accompany the yells of shock. It was too soon after an attack for them to be not expecting anything. A huge rock nearly smashed Ixis’ head as a mage of their own retaliated and steel rang against steel. Emala’s troops were better, but as she’d feared, the bandits greater numbers meant they’d cost a heavy toll.
She gestured forwards. “Attack.”
Unlike Pedah’s group, they didn’t scream a battle cry but moved quietly up behind the bandits. Fighting the first group most of them totally failed to spot the new attack. And suddenly it was too late. Raziela’s bodyguard Neriah shattered one man’s spine with a hideous blow to the lower back. Sskaris put a longbow shaft through the mage’s head, hissing violently and slamming his foot down to claim his kill. Emala turned and saw Lethia singled out the now seared rapist and slam her sword into his gut, a slow and evil wound.
Confused at the two sided attack, the bandits were unable to focus a defence on either. While Ixis and several of her men were pulling back nursing wound, Pedah was smashing his way through them, and the Golem was reaping a grim toll with the long blade he carried.
But Emala was focused on the tent. The cloth swished aside and four armed what could only be classed as knights stormed out, followed by their boss. In mismatched and looted armour as they were, it was clear these five were the hard core of the bandit force. “The tent!” Emala cried, firing her rifle at the advancing figures. The leader waved his hand a barrier stopped the round cold.
Suddenly Raziela was between the figures. They struck and lashed out but where they hit was exactly where she wasn’t. With a graceful move she scooped the boiling liquid from the camp fire and hurled it into one knight’s face, yelling “Soup!” as she did. Emala slammed a fresh cartridge into the breach and fired, staggered another knight as the breastplate dented inwards with the sound an angry bell. Emala could hear him gasp for breath even from there was the arm was rammed out of him. A second crumbled as the Golem’s pistol barked and the enemies helmet collapsed in a red spray.
From behind them the third group charged. The last uninjured knight turned to face them but was crushed from a hideous blow delivered by Davydia Kamere. The knight Emala had shot raised his weapon again but Raziela snatched his helmet from him and pulled up her blindfold. The knight’s head blocked Emala seeing exactly what happened but the woman, as she could now see the knight was, screamed a wail of utter despair before collapsing.
Their leader raised his sword...and dropped it in surrender.
The clang rang loudly for a moment. “And now, I presume,” he announced in a cultured tone, “You intend to ransom me? I am worth a small fortune, you know.”
“You’re lying.” It was the same girl as before. “You’re out here because you need money to pay off your debts, or your family will kill you.” His gaze narrowed on her, but he remained quiet.
The Golem moved over to the woman. “How do you know these things?” he asked, sheathing his sword.
She looked at him. “When people lie, I can tell. I always have been.”
“Interesting,” the Golem said, “A truth speaker?” He tilted his head. “Can you lie?”
“No.”
The Golem chuckled. “Very interesting.”
“Maybe so,” Lethia replied, eyeing the bandit leader. “But what do we do with this one?”
Piran coughed. “If he isn’t able to buy his freedom, and I can’t imagine you’d be all that interested in that anyway Emala, then all we really need is his head. And those of the people he commanded, too.”
Emala looked around. If any of the other bandits had tried to surrender, they’d failed. Only the leader was left alive. She suspected if she checked she’d find that some of the bandits wounds were odd. She couldn’t find it in herself to care, however.
“Tell me you kept your soldiers on a leash.” She looked at him, stared him in the eye. “Tell me you didn’t let them rape and murder and torture. Tell me these people would have gone free. Tell me all you wanted was the cash. Tell me you didn’t join in too. Tell me thou shalt not has any meaning for you?”
The man sneered, and didn’t bother voicing a lie.
She looked around at her people, standing in a circle and watching. Her eye was drawn to Lethia. Blood on her blade from the earlier bandit, her gaze cold and hard. The Golem looked at Emala for a moment and nodded. “Lethia? Do you want him?”
The redheaded woman smiled and glided forwards. The Golem chuckled. “This should help her get back a little confidence,” he muttered under his breath.
“Pick up your sword.” Lethia gestured to the weapon. The man didn’t move. “Now.” Slowly he reached down, and then swung the blade as he rose in a clumsy attempt to catch her off guard. His hand was severed before the swing was even complete and he screamed.
“Pick up your sword,” Lethia repeated as he clutched the stump of his hand. “Pick it up.” He glared at her and then spat. Lethia’s strike destroyed his face, slashing through both cheeks and leading his jaw hanging by threads.
“I gave you a chance,” she said as she struck again, slicing his thigh and dropping him to his knees. “More than you ever gave people, I imagine. If you had killed me, maybe you’d have been given a chance. But you didn’t. But at least you had one. Remember that.”
Then she severed his head with a final blow. There would be no chance to remember.