Circle of Thieves: Legends of Dimmingwood (4 page)

Sometime during the night I woke with a start, bolting
upright. I held my breath and tried to figure out what had awakened me. The
nanny goat was stomping her hooves, and the kids were shifting around in the
straw, but I knew it hadn’t been any of these that had jolted me awake. It hadn’t
been a sound at all, I realized, as I shook the lingering haze of sleep from my
mind.

I cast my magic sense out like a net, but it told me little
I didn’t already know. I was surrounded by unfamiliar presences, but then I was
in the midst of a village after all. What then was this warning sense of
impending doom throbbing through me? My talent had never spoken to me in such a
way before… Or was it my talent that prodded me?

My eyes darted to the spot where the bow lay in the straw.
Even in the dark I knew exactly where to find it. The suffocating sense of
dread was growing. My belly felt weak and my palms sweaty. Whatever the bow was
trying to tell me, it was a prodding I couldn’t ignore. My hands went to check
my knives, and then I snatched up the bow and its quiver and scrambled for the
entrance.

As I crawled out of the shed and into the drizzling rain, a
series of inhuman, unearthly screams split the night air, followed by a great
pounding as of many feet thundering over the earth. I whirled, trying to get my
bearings, but the uproar seemed to come from every direction at once. After a
moment’s indecision, I dashed for the green, where the greater part of the
commotion seemed to originate. I heard human screams joining with the
animal-like howls even as I approached. After rounding the corner of a cabin, I
skidded to a halt.

The green ahead was a scene from a nightmare. Everywhere was
blood and chaos amidst a scrambling, seething mass of shoving, fighting bodies.
Horrible howling monsters on two legs made up the larger part of the mass. Even
now, more of them flooded the green, brandishing spears and clubs as they
poured in from the surrounding woods. It took me a moment to see through the
thick layers of furs and feathers they had adorned themselves in to realize
they were actually humans, despite the animalistic quality of their screams.
They surged over the tiny village like swarming ants and already were beginning
to drive villagers out of their homes.

The terrified villagers fled, screaming into the night, but
most were being swiftly cut down even as they tried to make for the shelter of
the trees. The fierce invaders indiscriminately slaughtered any who fell in
their path. A few of the attackers were trying to set fire to the cabins, but
the damp eves refused to catch, and the steadily falling rain swiftly drowned
out the flickering flames. Even so, those villagers who had bolted themselves
indoors once they saw the invaders’ intent began spilling out doorways and
climbing through windows to escape the houses. Many of the villagers were
fallen upon by the enemy before they had fled a dozen steps. A few
quick-thinking individuals took up any tools at hand to defend themselves.

I took all of this in during the three seconds I hesitated
before plunging into the fray. I caught the eye of one of the attackers along
the outer fringes just as he caught sight of me, and we made straight for one
another. Just before we met, he hefted the long spear in his hand and hurled it
through the air at me. I dodged the flying javelin, feeling the rush of air as
it missed my shoulder by a hair.

In a single motion I swept my knives from their sheathes and
released one to arc through the air. The spinning blade flew true and lodged
itself deep into the throat of the oncoming enemy. The strike was a deadly one,
but the invader staggered forward a few steps, propelled by his momentum before
crashing to the ground. I slowed only long enough to retrieve my knife before
running into the thick of the fighting, armed now with the knowledge these
fearsome attackers could be killed the same as any other men.

After what seemed like an eternity but could only have been
a matter of minutes, it became clear we hadn’t a hope of driving them off. We
were vastly outnumbered and facing an enemy of warriors.

I noted a group of women and children fleeing into the open
doors of the meeting hall where evidently a large part of the village
population had taken refuge. Foolish of them, they were only trapping
themselves, saving the invaders the trouble of rounding them up. Already a
number of invaders were converging on the spot.

I fought my way through the melee, collecting as many of our
fighters as could hear my call or disengage themselves enough to answer it, and
we cleared a path to the door of the meeting hall, arriving just ahead of the
invaders. We organized ourselves enough to form a line to hold the invaders
back.

I started out at the front of this line, fighting toe to toe
against our attackers, but suddenly during the fighting, I became aware of a
sibilant wordless whisper at the forefront of my mind. I fell still and
listened to what the bow was telling me. That pause was nearly the end of me as
an enemy spearhead almost caught me in the ribs. A gray-bearded villager saved
my life by deflecting the strike.

I took the brief opportunity the villager bought me to step
behind the wall of fighters and drag the bow from my shoulder. Aiming my arrows
up and over the heads of the line of villagers, I fired away into the mass of
the enemy until the moment I reached back to find I had nothing left to shoot.
I realized then that the main body of the enemy was falling back. Why? We had
finally organized some defense, but it was scarcely enough to hold them back.

Nevertheless, many turned and flowed off into the woods.
Within minutes only small knots of fighters remained, those either too near
victory or too deeply engaged to give up the fight. I left our line of
defenders, the meeting hall now secure, and drifted off to join the smaller
frays, lending my aid to the villagers who still fought for their lives.
Sometimes I arrived in time to help, sometimes not.

The time came when I turned from slaying an invader to find
there were no more of them left. The last of the enemy were even now
disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

I stood in the center of the green and surveyed the carnage.
Despite our efforts, the village lay in ruins, the dead littering the ground
wherever I looked. Most of the bodies belonged to villagers.

I had never felt more frustrated. I had done everything I
knew how, and still I hadn’t been able to defend them in the end. Why was I
always too late to turn the tide?

Chapter
Four

The first gray of dawn was touching the sky by the time I
finished helping the Hammond’s Bend folk drag their injured into the meeting
hall to be cared for. I stayed all that day, heaping up the corpses of the
fallen enemy for burning. There were many of them, and none of us cared to
grant them a more decent burial. Even less pleasant was the task of disposing
of the dead villagers. Lined out among the corpses, I discovered the lifeless
body of the shy little girl I had spoken to last night. I didn’t know her name,
but I memorized her face, even as I hid the sadness her death awakened in me.
The villagers needed strength now. The time for mourning would come later.

Blinking my stinging eyes, I wrapped the girl’s small body
in the rough blanket her grief-shocked mother provided and laid her gently into
the mass grave. That grieved me that we had to bury them like so many rotten
melons dumped into a single compost heap. But there was no choice. The number
of the dead was greater than that of the living, and so we did what we could.

At the end of the day, I rested on the front porch of a
cabin, exhausted. There was work yet to be done, but the sun was sinking, and
my strength ebbed low. An older village woman bade me sit and pressed a plate
of stewed potatoes in my hands. It was the first meal I’d taken since yesterday,
and I thanked her gratefully, inwardly marveling at how yesterday I had been
all but ordered from this very porch. But today this woman and her husband
couldn’t do enough for me. I was so wrapped up in enjoying the simple meal that
I didn’t immediately notice when the village head joined me on the steps.

I looked up belatedly and offered him my plate, because he
looked as worn and weak as I felt. But Dunnel refused. He had spent the day
digging graves, and his face was streaked in dirt and dried sweat. More of it
was matted in his hair. He regarded me with serious bloodshot eyes. I had no
idea what he wanted.

He said, “I don’t know what it was that brought you to us,
stranger. But there’s no question in my mind, nor I think in the minds of any
this night, that we would all be dead if not for your efforts.”

I shook my head, feeling as uncomfortable as he looked and
said, “I did nothing. You saved yourselves.”

He looked down at his hands. They were big and scarred, the
strong hands of a farmer who spent his life working the soil. But tonight they
were flecked with dried blood.

He said, “You did nothing we
couldn’t
have done for
ourselves, but you did everything we wouldn’t have done. If we did save
ourselves, it was you who gave us the courage to do it. You organized us when
we were too afraid to think for ourselves. If you hadn’t caused us to hold that
line—well I don’t know what would have become of us. I want to thank you on
behalf of the village. Also, to apologize for how roughly I received you last night.
Little did I know the stranger I refused to share my table with that day would
be saving my life the next.”

“You did give me winter-fruit,” I pointed out.

A weary grin split his face. “So I did.”

I sobered suddenly and asked, “Any final count of the missing?”

His smile vanished. “Fourteen, we think. But we have hopes
some of those merely fled into the woods and might yet return.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I was sure we both
knew how unlikely his hopes were.

He said, “What do you think will happen to the captives they
took? Why did they carry them away in the first place? The attack made no
sense. It was as if their only aim was to destroy us and steal a handful of our
people.”

“I’m afraid I have no answers,” I said. “I’ve never heard
the like.”

It had been talked of all day. Everyone wondered what manner
of people our strange attackers had been and from where they had come. But the
question that was uppermost in every mind was that of why the strangers had targeted
Hammond’s Bend. What was their goal?

Dunnel interrupted my thoughts. “I have sent a party to
Selbius to bring a report of the attack before the Praetor. Doubtless within a
few days, the village will be swarming with Fists. Again.”

I was pretty certain how he felt about that. The grim
specter of the hanging tree still loomed over the meeting hall, but I imagined
the villagers would welcome the Praetor’s men with more joy than they would a
return of the invaders. The reach of the Praetor’s arm suddenly represented
security in this isolated place.

Dunnel cleared his throat, and I sensed he was searching for
a lighter topic. We had dwelt enough on destruction for one day.

“A remarkable bow you have there,” he said and nodded toward
the weapon propped against my knee. “I’ve never seen anything of such size and
detailed workmanship. You didn’t make it yourself?”

I said vaguely, “I found it someplace a long time ago.”

“I wouldn’t mind stumbling over such a find,” he said. “You
know, I don’t think I saw you miss a shot last night, and I’m not the only one
to remark on it. Who taught you to shoot like that?”

I said, “It’s less me and more the bow that directs the
shot. Sometimes I feel like all I do is stand there and nock arrows.”

From the expression on his face, I realized I had probably
said too much. I scrubbed a weary hand across my face. I hadn’t had a full
night’s sleep in what seemed an age, and my mind was sluggish.

He caught the gesture and said, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t
batter you with small talk. You’re at the end of your strength, as are most of
us. You’ll want to find a bit of rest. I promise you no one will refuse you a
bed this day.”

I choked back a yawn even as he spoke. “A few hours of sleep
wouldn’t go amiss,” I admitted. “But there is still work to be done…”

I looked out over the chaos revealed by the pale morning sun
and suddenly felt as though I had great weights pressing down on me.

“Everything of urgency is done,” he told me. “We will rest
and tend to our wounded today.”

I disagreed. Back in the old days, Rideon never would have
let us sit back and rest after a raid from the Fists.

“You’ll want to post a watch about a mile out from the
village perimeter to give warning should another attack come,” I said. “It
doesn’t seem likely, but you and the other village heads should lay a plan of
defense in case the worst should happen. Start rooting around old attics and
barns to see what else you can dig up that’ll pass for weaponry, and I’d
suggest fortifying the meeting hall as best you can and making it your fallback
position for a last stand. It’s the most defensible building, and the only one
large enough to hold all the old folk and little ones. Once you’ve done that—”

Seeing the look on his face, I cut off abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is your village, and you’re the
head. I’m just a stranger passing through.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said. “What you advise makes sense,
and I’ll see that it’s done.”

I wasn’t accustomed to being deferred to, but if he wanted
my opinions, I wouldn’t hold back. We continued laying plans for the days to
follow until we were interrupted by one of the villagers with a question about
the weapons we had appropriated from enemy corpses. I was surprised he wanted
to talk with me instead of Dunnel. But when I looked to the village head, he
simply nodded for me to go handle it.

I almost wished he were less willing to accept my help. I
was dizzy from lack of sleep and my shoulders heavy under the weight of
exhaustion. But I followed the villager, who was full of questions about
forming a search party to go after the missing villagers.

We hadn’t gone a dozen paces when Dunnel called after me,
“By the way, stranger, you’ve never given anyone your name.”

“Ilan,” I answered over my shoulder but couldn’t be sure
whether he heard.

* 
 *   *

I spent the next two days helping with the reconstruction of
the village and joining the shifts of able bodied men and women caring for the
large number of wounded still too weak to be moved from the meeting hall to
their homes. I’d spent enough years at Javen’s elbow to have experience
changing dressings and mixing herbal concoctions to fight away infections. I
felt ridiculously ill-suited to such gentle tasks, but none of the injured died
under my care, so maybe I didn’t do so badly.

I also spent time quietly consulting with Dunnel on the
organization of the watches and the search parties sent out to comb the near
parts of the woods for the missing villagers. I even used my magic to reach out
for the missing villagers but caught no sense of them. I hadn’t really expected
to. The mysterious invaders’ attack had been well planned, so something told me
they wouldn’t have been clumsy in their retreat. I was unsurprised when we
discovered on the first day that their tracks led only a short distance into
the woods before vanishing without a trace.

At the sight of their disappearance, we made an interesting
discovery: a broad circle etched deep into the dirt, wide as a barn, with
foreign looking runes and symbols lining the edges. The footprints of our
enemies led straight to this circle, where they disappeared. The scene was
enough to unsettle the villagers and started them muttering about ancient
superstitions and forest phantoms.

But I could sense what the rest could not. My magic told me
something had been done here, something that had nothing to do with ghosts or
disappearing spells. I closed my eyes and could all but taste the fading
resonance of the Natural magic, thin and diluted like wood-smoke carried on a
distant wind. I could trace its trail, and it led to the circle, where it
vanished as if a thick door had been suddenly slammed into place, blocking me
out.

I briefly battered at the door with my magic but met with no
success. I sent seeking tendrils tracing around it, searching for any tiny
crack, any way through the barrier, but I found none. There was no way in. I
knew then that we had lost the missing villagers for good, and also lost any
chance of following our mysterious enemy back to its lair.

The search was given up soon after.

The following afternoon, the Praetor’s Fists rode into the
village. I scarcely waited for the dust of their horses to settle before
bidding Dunnel farewell and slipping quietly away.  I was no longer needed
here, and it would be foolish to risk staying.

The village head seemed to have been expecting my departure.
Perhaps he suspected more of the truth about me then he let on. And so, when I
left, it was with a full traveler’s sack slung alongside the bow across my
back. The villagers had been generous in their gratitude, and I had enough food
and old clothing stuffed into the sack to see me through a year.

It was a relief to put my back to the little village. As
much as I sympathized with the plight of the Hammond’s Bend folk, I was glad to
leave the mysterious business of the unknown attackers to the Praetor’s men and
turn my mind back to more personal plans.