Douglas Niles - Wizards' Conclave

Then they had made her walk for a very long time, and now they were approaching this well-lit, crowded compound in the middle of the nearly trackless woods. Already her little hand had attracted the attention of the outer pickets, and soon her captors had prodded her into the reflected glow of a huge bonfire. The girl was footsore, staggering with weariness, and increasingly frightened as her one-eyed captor roughly shoved her toward the center of the circle of men who were gathered around the fire.

But these were not just men, she saw with a numbing chill. Several scaly creatures, reptilian snouts extended, snorted and snuffled as they beheld her. These were draconians, she guessed—but much larger and uglier and, well, fiercer-looking than she had expected. Others among the band had expressions so bestial and snarling she guessed they must be ogres.

Thus it was almost a relief when a man stepped forward to look down, with undisguised amusement, into her upturned face. He pulled her gag away and Cory drew a grateful breath. But the idea of a little crackling magic missile spell suddenly seemed inadequate for this unruly gang.

“What have you found for us, One-Eye?” asked the man.

“ ’Ere’s a little lady, maid-serve to the lady traveler, we thought ye might enjoy, Cap’n Samuval,” offered the bandit cheerfully.

“Why, thank you!” said Samuval, waving expansively. “You are most correct.” Effortlessly he spun Cory around. She struggled, and his grip only tightened. “Don’t make me cut you, lass—hold still.”

Her heart pounded as she felt the side of a cold blade against her wrist. The bandit captain thrust and twisted and the throng of ruffians laughed as Coryn flinched. Only then did she realize that he had cut away the bonds holding her wrists together. With relief, she brought her hands before her and started rubbing her chafed skin.

“Now, tell us about your mistress? We have been spying on her for several days. Why does she venture through such wilderness alone? Kind of rash, don’t you think?”

“She has nothing to fear from the likes of you!” Coryn declared haughtily, a remark, judging by the chorus of hearty laughter, that the bandits found hilarious.

“Now, lassie. Don’t go jumping to conclusions.” Captain Samuval looked toward One-Eye questioningly. “Why didn’t you bring the lady in, as well? And where are the rest of your men?”

“Well, Cap’n…” One-Eye looked considerably less cocksure than before. “Seems there was two others, and both of ’em wizards! Why, one turned poor Snooty into a knobby toad, sure as I’m standing here. The rest—they might be kil’t, so far as I could see. I judged meself lucky to snatch the lass here and get away. Brought her straight ’ere, I did.”

“Wizards, eh?” Samuval’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, and then he spoke loudly, obviously confident as he issued orders to his men. “Have the pickets doubled! Every other man on guard takes a sip of potion—can’t have these sneaky bastards coming in here invisible! And string out the faerie bells, so we’ll get a little advance warning.”

“Aye, Captain!” Coryn was surprised as a dozen men ran to obey—such discipline was not what she had expected from such shabby brigands.

She watched with unabashed interest as several bandits unlocked a large chest near the makeshift bar, and carefully removed four large bottles. Each was carried, gingerly wrapped in a cloth, toward one of the points of the compass, the bearers quickly vanishing into the darkness.

“Be sparing with the potion!” Samuval called after them. “But make sure one man at each post has a sip! And that man had better keep his eyes open!”

Meanwhile, other men were removing what look like long spools of dark thread from another box. They carried these into the darkness, as well. Cory could only imagine that the slender string had something to do with the faerie bells. For the first time she considered the notion that her rash act would bring Dalamar and Jenna after her, and straight into the hands of these ruffians.

“Expecting a rescue, are you?” Samuval asked, studying her thoughtfully and, apparently, reading her mind. “I’ve dealt with wizards before. Don’t like ’em much, but I’ve learned a trick or two over the years.”

Coryn merely shrugged. “I didn’t say they’re wizards, your man did, and I don’t think they’ll come after me anyway. Why worry about a simple servant girl?” She felt a rising sense of fear, however.

Just then, over Samuval’s shoulder, she spotted a blur of brightness in the evening sky. Shifting slightly, she realized that the white moon was rising. It was only about half full, but the cosmic brightness was somehow vaguely comforting—the same moon that she had seen in the Icereach, and the north, and everywhere else over Krynn. She didn’t feel quite so alone all of a sudden.

“Now, what are we going to do with you?” He addressed her, but spoke loudly enough so that his men could hear his every word.

“You don’t know? I got some ideas, Cap’n!” one of them shouted, to raucous laughter.

“Are you a girl, or a woman?” he asked, walking around her, looking down as if inspecting some commodity. He turned to his men with a flourish. “Perhaps a girl, tonight—and a woman in the morning?”

This remark drew howls of approbation, and Samuval, his face illuminated clearly in the moonlight, smiled with cruel pleasure. Cory felt her knees grow weak. This was crazy! How had she gotten herself into this? In a flash, she clutched at that one word—crazy—for a flash of inspiration.

“Papa!” she cried, forcing herself to sound flushed with pleasure. She threw her arms around the startled bandit’s chest, shouting in delight. “It has been so long, Papa! I have so many stories to tell you!”

“What—stop that!” demanded the bandit captain, trying to pry her arms off him. “I’m not your pop, crazy girl!”

“Oh, Papa!” She held as tightly as she could, surprising herself with the strength of her grip. “There was a dance in the moonlight! And I made a doll, for you—but I don’t know where it is. Oh, I have so much to tell!”

Finally he broke her hands apart and pushed her away, his face twisting in alarm. “This is a crazy wench! Get her away from me!”

“But… Papa!” she allowed herself to pout, reaching out, causing Samuval to recoil.

“Tie her up,” he snapped to One-Eye. “Make it tight! She’s not right in the head! Why did you bring me this lunatic?”

“I din’t know, Cap’n,” said One-Eye, looking askance.

“She din’t talk crazy like this afore, at least not when she had the gag in her mouth!”

“Just get her away from me!”

She wept and wailed, grasping for the horrified Samuval as two or three bandits hauled her away and tied her securely to one wheel of the beer wagon. They didn’t bother with the gag this time, just checked the bonds at her wrists and ankles. Then they made superstitious marks in the air between themselves and this lunatic, and hurried back to join their comrades at the fire.

“We could kill half of them with fireballs before they even know we’ve found them,” Dalamar whispered to Jenna. They crouched at the edge of the forest, with the brightness of a large fire visible in the clearing.

“You used to prefer a little more subtlety,” Jenna remarked.

“Bah,” he waved her words away. “My subtlety is like my patience—thin. Come on, it has already been a long night.”

“Consider this, then,” she argued. “We kill half of them and, even if the fireballs miss the girl, someone cuts her throat before we can get to her.”

The dark elf looked at Jenna, his expression one of calculated boredom. “So then you have to get another servant girl. That shouldn’t be hard.”