''What do we do with him, then?'' Badger asked the others, looking down upon the injured fat man. Jon tried persistently to pull the arrow free from his leg, but it seemed well and truly stuck. Eventually Renly kicked him in anger, telling him that he was too skilled with a bow to shoot anything other than deep. He promised Jon he would not get it out on his own, and so the fat slaver stopped trying. He still squirmed, but the arrow was lodged too deeply, and it hurt him too much to move. There was no escaping, not on foot. And his courser was nowhere to be seen, it had fled when he fell from it.
''Should we flay him for snoopin' about? Maybe take him to Garrion, put him to work? Heh, it's hard being in charge.'' Badger laughed, kicking at the fat man again. Petchin' bastard, getting yourself seen. . . What can we do now? I need that key, damn it, damn it, damn it. Thalrick looked at Armin for the answer; but the tall boy had none. He watched on, for that was all they could do. Badger had begun to kick Jon's injured leg, not hard, but hard enough so he groaned in pain, rolling about like he had been set on fire. It was the first time Thalrick had ever seen him helpless and unable to defend himself. Jon was weak, and finally Thalrick could see it. He was drained of his sniggering tone, his condescending laughter, even his voice had been lost, replaced by mumbled curses and groans of pain. Not so strong against men your own size, are you? But if they were boys, I bet you'd have them. . . wouldn't you, you fat petch. . .
''What do we have 'ere?'' Thalrick had not even heard the man sneak up behind him, but felt the flat side of his sword all the same. By the time he woke, the sun had just rose, and he found himself bound back to back with Armin by thick rope in the same clearing he'd left in his unconscious state. The day brought more clouds than the one before, but it was still hot enough that he already felt himself sweating.
A tall man stood before him, and he did not even have to speak to be known. Badger. He was six feet or so high, with a narrowed square face and deep brown eyes, his short hair flecks of yellow and brown. The man looked down at Thalrick's chained wrists curiously, stroking the patchy brown stubble across his cheeks. Badger had been dressed in all leathers, with a single hand covered in the iron gauntlet of a knight. He wore a tabard over his leathers that bore a sigil, one Thalrick had never seen. A grey horse galloping across a brown and black field. His men all wore similar, clad in boiled leathers and cloth and mail, though lacked tabards themselves. One did hold a banner of the same design, and it flapped about in the morning breeze.
With his gauntleted hand on the hilt of his sheathed longsword, Badger said to the two bound boys, ''Shame we had to tie you up like this, lads. But it's hard to know who to trust these days, with these lands being so dangerous and all,'' he looked at Thalrick's chains again, still confused, ''judging by those clasps though, we're in no real peril. We caught ya snoopin', and thought you could've been with him, waiting in the shrubs to spring an ambush,'' Badger raised his gauntleted hand and pointed over by a tree. Jon had been perched up against it, bound at hands and feet, with an old cloth rag shoved into his mouth. The arrow had been removed, replaced by some cloth bandage. A patch of crimson had stained the cloth where the wound was. The fat slaver seemed asleep, or unconscious.
''What are you two, then? Wanderers? Have you escaped a master? What?'' He demanded more than asked, but Thalrick was happy to oblige. The sword to the face had made his head throb, like something was trying to escape it through his temples. It hurt more every time he opened his mouth, but he managed well enough. ''He-- he is our master, least he thinks. . . I'm no man's property, no man. My own. .'' His head began to throb so hard that he was seeing double, and could not find any more strength to speak. Badger nodded his head in understanding.
''Aye, slaves then. No man should be a slave, especially boys like you. You're a slave too, then?'' He asked curiously, this time to Armin. The blonde boy had been facing the opposite direction to Badger, but he understood well enough. Judging by the way he spoke, the flat side of the sword had hit him just as hard. He looked fine though, aside from the bulging bruise above his left eye. ''I am,'' was all he could manage. Badger nodded again, stroking his chin. ''Renly, fetch them a waterskin, they look thirsty.'' He barked, and the man holding the banner quickly rushed over with a waterskin in hand. So that is Renly. . .
He was no more than twenty summers old, tall as Badger, with a round face, wavy black hair and a beard that would've been equivalent to the fuzz of a peach. His skin was darker than the rest, as if he spent all of his time outdoors. A bow was slung around his back, with a ragged leather quiver at his hip. He held the banner proudly in his left hand, and passed his leader the waterskin with his right. Badger poured some water down both their mouths, and Thalrick could have kissed him for it.
''Who are you men?'' He managed to ask when his throat felt less barren. It was the first time he had felt able to ask a question without being whipped for it. Badger smiled, revealing chipped yellow teeth.
''Depends who you ask, lad. Some call us a nasty lot of bandits, others call us the heroes of the people. We, well we call ourselves The Sovereign Company. It's all in good jest, really. None of us have supreme power of any kind, but we're free men, every last one of us. That's what supreme power is, lad, freedom. Where every man is equal, with an equal say. Well, I suppose Garrion aside, who commands us all to go about and be free. Still, we don't condone to this slavery shyke. No man should own another man, your heart beats and your brain thinks for you, not for the needs and desires of the greedy petches,'' he shot a look over at Jon, an angry stare that made Badger look fearsome. Thalrick felt obliged to continue on, so he asked, ''Then, then why'd you kill those knights? They were good men, mother told me tales of the Syliran knights when I was just a boy. They're all about the innocent, and protecting people . . .'' Badger laughed and ran a hand over Thalrick's shaggy black hair, ruffling it up so it looked like a mop.
''Aye, she did, and it seems you're still a boy. Sylira seems to have a different opinion on us, lad. A not-so-good one at that. It was us or them, so we set up an ambush and chose us. Now we're sent back here so we can salvage what we can. After all, the dead have no use for armour and swords and mizas.'' He ruffled his hair up a second time, then asked one of the men to pass him a knife. A fat man approached, all belly and no brawn, with leathers that looked like they barely fit him. He had been keeping eye on Jon, so passed Badger a steel dirk and returned to his watch. Badger sawed through the ropes that bound them, then took a step back so they could stand.
When he did, it felt as though he hadn't done so in forever. His legs nearly gave way from under him, and he quickly blossomed a cramp in his left thigh. Still, he did not show signs of pain, only gratitude. ''No need to thank me, lads. Shouldn't of had you roped up in the first place. We won't harm you regardless. Can never be too cautious out here though, not never. I thought a boy kind once, he was only ten. When we let him go, he tried to stick me with a dagger he'd stashed down his pants. I had to cut him down. But we buried him, and gave him a grave marker, for that was all we could do. These lands grow more volatile by the day, more full of danger. Those who deem us brigands have never come across The Flayed Brothers, I wager. They're as brutal as their name suggests, and twice as bloody big as our small company. We've encountered them once, but we outnumbered them, so they turned heel and ran. We were lucky, they're twice our size now, maybe more. Mayhap one day we'll meet them again, and it'll be us doing the running. Can never be too cautious, I swear it.'' There was a tone in Badger's voice that made Thalrick feel at ease. He seemed a man of his word, and so he trusted they would not be harmed. The fate of Jon though, that remained uncertain.
He gave them both another drink from the waterskin, and Armin had been so thirsty he had nearly drank it all. Thalrick reached out to grab it before he did, and managed to suck down the last of it, as Badger had allowed. ''What'll happen to him, then?'' Thalrick asked, waving the waterskin briefly at Jon as he passed it back to Badger. The tall man shrugged. He was lean, with a chiselled jaw and a neck covered in scars. He seemed battle-hardened, that was certain. The rest of the men looked it, too. One was square faced, with a crooked nose and blonde curly hair that fell in ringlets to his shoulders. The fat man wore a sallet, more than likely salvaged from the fallen, so his features were hard to distinguish. The other man had cropped copper hair, a fiery beard and eyes as green as Cyrphus grass, with chubby cheeks and a broad body. His face and arms were covered in freckles, and he had been the only one wearing a leather vest.
''I say we trial him, let him decide his fate. He's a slaver, after all. And slavers are cruel things.'' Renly suggested. He spoke as if he were high born, in a voice that seemed to demand respect. Badger nodded, but did not look at him. Instead he turned back to Thalrick and Armin, his raised eyebrow invoking that he had a thought on his mind. ''What do you say, lads? This man has wronged you more than us, it should be you who decides.'' He looked at them seriously, for his word was law. And so would be theirs.
Thalrick looked to Armin, but before he could speak, the blonde boy did. ''I want to fight him, we can trial him by combat.'' The words rolled off his tongue without a hint of fear, only pride. Thalrick wanted to punch him so hard that his stupid tongue would fall out so he could not say any idiotic things like that again. What are you doing? He's stronger than you, deadlier than you, bigger than you. . .
Even Badger seemed surprised, though he did not argue. ''Combat it is, lad. But can you wield a sword, and properly defend with a shield?'' He asked. Armin nodded, and Thalrick couldn't tell if he was lying or not. He'd use the cast-iron pot to beat Khavin's brains in well enough, so he would trust him. ''Father taught me, before I was taken at ten by my old master. Father was a knight, albeit a bad one. He still knew how to kill a man, and stop himself from getting killed all the same. I will fight this fat petch, and he will die.'' Armin spoke so confidently that he did not even seem like the same person. He still sounded older than he was, but this confidence was new.
Renly gave him a steel sword and a round wooden shield with The Sovereign Company sigil on it, while the round man woke up Jon by splashing water over his face. The slaver awoke in anger, and so Badger and the rest of the men approached him. ''You're to face this young man, to the death, in a trial by combat,'' Badger began, and Jon cracked a laugh like he had told a joke, ''What? That blonde petch? I'll gut him before he raises his sword!'' he mocked. Armin did not show any signs of fear, his expression carved of stone. Jon noticed that, and spat in his direction. ''What d'ya think ya are, boy? A petchin' knight? Just cause you hold a sword and a shield don't make ya a warrior!'' he tried to stand up after the fat one had cut away his bonds, but the wound in his leg hurt too much. It was only then Jon realised he was in peril, even if Armin was fourteen, brittle, with barely any combat experience.
''This is no fair fight! You stuck me bloody leg, how can I walk? What are you triallin' me for anyway, walking through a forest?'' he complained as he used the tree to stand up. Badger laughed aloud. ''You're on trial for every crime you've ever committed, slaver. And merely being a slaver counts as a hundred thefts, a hundred murders. We should just kill you now, and be done with it. But the boy wants some justice, and he wants to do it the proper way.'' Badger took a step back then, still smiling, ''you'll have no weapon, just your hands. It's only fair, with the difference in both weight and strength.''
Without a warning Jon rushed forward, and attempted to pry the sword from Armin's hand. His leg burned him with every step, but he would forego it all for a chance at freedom. The blonde boy edged away and swung the sword, but it haplessly swung across the air, missing Jon completely. He raised the shield as the fat man swung a fist, and then another, and then another, each blow driving Armin back, closer and closer to the trunk of a tree. When Jon stumbled on a root that protruded from the forest floor, Armin took another swing, nearly slicing away at his ribs. The fat man somehow moved away in time, and Armin fumbled at the weight of the sword dragging him. The slaver punched him in the face, and then successfully pried the blade from his opponent. ''Not so knightly now, aye?'' He mocked, swinging the sword about in the air. Before he had a chance to swing it, an arrow whizzed through the air, and found it's new home in the side of his calf. Jon roared out in pain, and dropped to his only good knee. Blood already began to seep from where the arrow had made its mark.
''You don't get a weapon, Badg' said.'' Renly warned, another arrow already pulled back against the string ready to fire. Jon huffed, but by then Armin was on him, slamming the shield into his face. Jon fell backward, and Armin dived onto him shield first. The wood splintered against his face and chest, and he cried out in such agony that birds showered out of the forest canopy and took flight. ''Kill him, Armin!'' Thalrick cried in joy. He nearly wanted to scream in happiness. Finally the moment had came, the moment he'd waited over half his life for. I'll be free . . . Free at last. . . |
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