He slowly lowered his sword, then pushed it back into the makeshift scabbard he had crafted. Myrana had a point—the raiders were too many to fight. Even if they won, they would certainly suffer some losses, and they hardly had enough to spare.
Amoni let her cahulaks dangle from her hand. Ruhm didn’t release his club, but rested the end on the ground. Finally, when the raiders had almost reached them, Sellis scabbarded his pair of swords.
Puzzled looks replaced rage on the raiders’ faces. “Are you cowards, to face us without weapons?” one asked. He was a full elf, lean, tall and broad-shouldered, his hair long and wild, and he arched an eyebrow at them in wonder. He and three other elves among the raiders were the only ones on foot, but in spite of the hard sprint he did not seem winded in the least. “Or wizards, perhaps, meaning to destroy us through magic rather than fair combat.”
Myrana stepped to the group’s front. Reasonable, Aric thought, as this approach had been her idea. “You speak of fair combat? Attacking five with forty or more?”
The elf chuckled. “Perhaps only five of us at a time would have engaged you. Under those terms, would you fight? Or do you surrender your lives and possessions now?” Other raiders joined in laughter at that, a few of them hurling curses and epithets at the five companions.
“We would surrender our possessions gladly, to spare our lives,” Myrana told him. Not exactly answering the question the elf had asked, Aric noted. “But we have precious little to take. A handful of weapons, I suppose. The skins we use to keep ourselves warm at night. A little water, though not much, and less meat. We are but poor journeyers, a long way from anywhere. And as you can see, without mounts or wagons. What is it you would take from us?”
“I suppose we’ll settle for your lives and what little you carry,” the elf said. “Better than naught.”
“Is it?”
“You have something better to offer, girl?” Some of the other raiders dismounted, walking around their prey, eyeing their few belongings. “And are the rest of you mute? Or too stupid to speak?”
“I speak,” Ruhm said. “I’d fight you in a second.”
“I might have something to offer,” Myrana said quickly, lest Ruhm embroil them all in an unwinnable battle. “We are but five lonely travelers, but I am a daughter of House Ligurto. Surely you’ve heard of it—once of the richest trading houses in the Tablelands.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of House Ligurto,” the elf said, his interest piqued.
“I’m away from them for now, but I’ve been on the road with them my whole life. I know their route and schedule as well as I know my own name.”
“How does that help us?”
“I said I’m a daughter of the house, I didn’t say that I was a contented one. You spare us, and I’ll direct you to a place where you can wait for the caravan. The riches you could acquire there would be far more than you can take from us.”
The elf rubbed his chin. Black tattoos snaked up from under his faded red shift, climbing his neck and etching a false black beard on his smooth skin. “An ambush, eh?” He huddled with some of the other raiders.
“Myrana, this is a dangerous game you play,” Sellis whispered.
“It’s no game, it’s our lives. I know what I’m doing.”
“We can still take them,” Sellis insisted. “Myrana, I—”
Myrana cut him off. “Do not forget that I’m a trader, from a long line of them. I’m doing what we do. I’m bargaining. Now hush.”
Aric hoped she was right. Ever since that moment he had known Kadya meant to kill him, life seemed composed of one narrow escape after another. As if the burning sun and sands and the infinite cold of night weren’t bad enough, they’d had to stave off one attack after another. He was starting to despair of ever seeing Nibenay again, much less saving it from the demon-possessed templar.
The raiders seemed to have reached a conclusion. They faced the travelers again, the elf at their center, flanked by three humans, a halfling, and a goliath, doubtless brought up from the ranks in case Ruhm tried anything. They were a hard-looking lot, showing the scars of many a struggle, their faces grim. Aric was glad they weren’t fighting, but suspected that had only been postponed by Myrana’s action. And possibly not for long.
“Very well,” the elf said. “We’ll take the girl at her word. For now. Girl, you’ll lead us to this place, where we can set an ambush for your family’s caravan.”
“And you’ll leave me and my friends alone and unharmed, until you get what you can from the caravan,” Myrana insisted. “If even one of us is mistreated in any way, then you’ll have to kill us all, because I will never breathe a word of that location.”
The elf looked disappointed. Perhaps he’d hoped only to spare Myrana. “You’ll have to give up your weapons, of course.”
“And be utterly defenseless against whatever horrors the desert springs upon us? Nonsense. You already know we have no illusions that we could beat all of you in combat, else we would be fighting now, not talking. But we give up nothing—no water, no food, no weapons. Then, when you’ve attacked the caravan and stolen your fill, you let us go.”
“Let you go? Ha!” the halfling said. Standing fully erect, she might barely reached the elf’s waist. But she stood with back and shoulders hunched, a slender javelin in her hands, so she only seemed as tall as his thighs. She was thin, seemingly young, but as battle-worn as the others. She wore a vest and loincloth of some sort of pale, almost yellow skin, and sandals against the heat of the desert sands. Her brown hair was knotted once at the back of her head, and otherwise untamed—in that sense, it matched her attitude.
The elf shot her a glare. “Of course we’ll let you go, once we have those riches,” he assured them. Aric had seen five-year-old children who were more proficient liars.
“Very well,” Myrana said. “Then we have a deal.”
“A deal,” the elf echoed. He turned to face the rest of the band. “Nobody’s to lay a hand on these,” he called. “To save their own miserable hides, they’re helping us to ambush a wealthy caravan.”
This news was met with some cheers but much grumbling, several members of the band seemingly more interested in murder today than riches tomorrow. But the elf and those he had consulted ran things, apparently, and general agreement was voiced by all.
Then they were off again, the travelers still on foot, herded along at a rapid trot by mounted raiders. Aric wasn’t sure this was any improvement over a quick, bloody death in battle—keeping pace with the raiders seemed sure to kill them anyway.
As night fell, the raiders stopped and made camp. They built fires, over which they cooked erdlu eggs. The aroma made Aric’s mouth water and his stomach growl. He still had a little of Amoni’s lirr, dry and flavorless compared to the erdlu smell, and diminishing stores of water to wash it down. The raiders drank ale and wine, screamed with laughter at jokes they told one another, sang songs.
The raiders allowed them a fire, in the middle of camp where there were raiders on every side, preventing any escape. When it appeared that none of them were paying close attention to the captives, Aric tore off a chunk of lirr with his teeth. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Myrana,” he said as he chewed. “They’ve no intention of letting us go alive, even after the ambush.”
“I know that, Aric. Just as I know that if we’d tried to stand and fight, we’d all be food for the carrion-eaters tonight, and they would have what little we own.” She drank from her water skin. “Besides, I would not betray my own house to such as these. The place I’ll take them is well off House Ligurto’s trading route.”
“Then they’ll kill us for certain!”