Sword of the MacLachlan - 5. Adventurers' Oath

Today is the day. They said they would tell us today, Darryn thought. He knew the same thought was running through Greyeyes’ mind, but neither of the elven boys said anything as they went through the morning routine. Patrick, who seemed to be the real leader, even though James gave most of the orders, insisted that they be packed up each morning as if they were to leave on a moment’s notice. Then Alan’s critical eye ran over their weapons, boots, and other equipment. It’s not just us, either, Greyeyes noted. He checks Patrick’s stuff, too.

 

Alan nodded to James who announced, “Breakfast.” The entire crew followed him to the refectory where Cedric met them, as usual. “The senior invites all of you to his table this morning,” Cedric announced.

 

When they reached the table, they saw that the other guests were the people with whom they’d worked most closely in the past few days: Cedric, himself; the Weapons Master; the Librarian; and the two tweens with whom Darryn and Greyeyes sparred, who were wide-eyed to be in this exalted company.

 

After the meal, which had included coffee for Patrick and the senior, the senior stood and cleared his throat. Having the attention of everyone in the room, he announced, “I understand that today there is to be an important announcement. James?”

 

“Thank you Senior, and thank you for honoring us. My companions and I would like to invite Darryn and Greyeyes to join us in our fight for the Light.”

 

At this, Patrick and Alan stood and gestured for Darryn and Greyeyes to stand and follow them. James, Kenneth, and Thom followed, and the seven linked hands to form a circle. The senior rose and faced the circle, his hands raised.

 

Turning to the two elven boys, whose eyes were shining, James continued. “Not so long ago, Kenneth and I were invited to join this Quest. I will never forget the words that Patrick used, and I think they should be used here, as well: We need Soldiers of the Light who will stand side by side and back to back with us in this fight against Evil, friends who will laugh with us, cry with us, live with us—and, if necessary, die with us. Darryn, Greyeyes…will you join us?”

 

“Yes, James…,” Greyeyes began…

 

“…we will join you,” Darryn continued…

 

“…to laugh and cry…”

 

“…to live and die.”

 

“Will you accept Patrick’s leadership, and willingly obey all orders and instructions that he may issue, or the orders and instructions issued in his name?”

 

“We will…” pledged Greyeyes.

 

“We will…” echoed Darryn.

 

The senior of the Monastery took up the litany. “Do you, Patrick, Alan, James, swear to provide for, protect, teach, nurture and cherish these boys?”

 

“We do…” answered the three tweens.

 

“And do you all swear these oaths, and swear loyalty to these your companions, in the Light?” The senior asked.

 

“We do…” swore Darryn.

 

“We do…” echoed Greyeyes.

 

“We do…” responded Patrick, Alan, James, Kenneth, and Thom.

 

“Then receive the blessing of the Light,” intoned the senior, and a wave of Power swept through the circle.

 

The assembled monks and acolytes burst into applause. One by one, those they knew and those they’d not met filed by and offered blessings until the entire room glowed with the Light.

 

*****

 

The companions, now seven, had been on the road for three days. The sun had been bright the day before, and had warmed the moist meadows. This morning, fog streamed in tendrils from the warm ground into the cooler air. The companions picked their way across meadows and along the ridgeline of rolling hills until they found a farm road leading generally westerly. None of Patrick’s maps showed the road.

 

“It’s going to reach a Royal Road sometime,” Alan said. “And we’ll make better time than striking through the woods, even though that might be shorter.” The boys turned their horses’ heads down the dirt and gravel road.

 

As they breasted a hill, Greyeyes, riding in front with Alan, saw perhaps two miles farther on the road, a dot that appeared to be moving toward them. From the top of the next hill, he was able to confirm it. “A wagon, cloth-covered, drawn by two horses, coming this way.

 

The companions stopped at the crest of the next hill, easily visible against the skyline, and waited for the wagon to approach. It was a large wagon, covered with a tall canopy held in place with wooden hoops. The wagon’s sides were festooned with pots, pans, and similar household items. Visible in the seat were a man and a boy. Alan hailed them, pleasantly. As the wagon stopped, a woman poked her head from the wagon behind the driver, and then retreated back inside.

 

The peddler and his son tried persistently, to sell their wares. The boy jumped from the cart to harangue the “young gentlemen,” offering trinkets, amulets, and love potions.

 

Patrick asked the driver, “What news have you of the road ahead?”

 

After seeing Thom buy a trinket from the boy, the peddler opened up to Patrick. “We passed, just earlier today, a temple, on a hillside. As we drove by, I felt a sharp breath of cold air, and saw no source save the temple. There were no signs of life, no smoke from a fire. But I felt…uneasy. I cannot say why, but in any case, beware the temple.”

 

Patrick thanked the peddler. When the man realized that he could sell nothing more to the companions, he took his leave, clucked to the horses, and continued down the road. The companions rode westward, with Alan and Thom deep in conversation about the trinket.

 

*****

 

On a bare, rocky meadow not far from the road, the companions saw a building made of gray stone. It was rectangular, flat-roofed, and featureless except for closed, double wooden doors facing a small plaza in front of the building. The building faced the west—the direction of the setting sun. On the plaza was a bench of gray stone that appeared to be stained with blood.

 

The party stopped and dismounted about 20 yards from the altar.

 

“I see awful Darkness,” Kenneth whispered. The stone table on the plaza…it’s been used for dark rituals.” Patrick and James focused, and saw the same.

 

“It’s true Evil,” James said. Patrick nodded.

 

“If it is evil, then we need to destroy it…we’re strong enough to storm the building,” Alan urged.

 

“If we enter, then we lose the benefit of magical attacks and defense—James and Kenneth, especially, since Evil has warped the magical Field in and around the temple,” Patrick cautioned.

 

“It is an Evil place, and we are bound to fight Evil,” Kenneth said.

 

Thom sided with Alan. James insisted that this was an evil place, and could not be allowed to remain so. Still a bit unsure of their status, Darryn and Greyeyes remained silent.

 

“At the very least, we must remove the darkness that surrounds that altar, and deny its use to any follower of the Dark who might chance upon it. What say you to that?” James asked.

 

“That will create quite a noise in the magical field, won’t it?” Patrick asked.

 

James nodded. “They’ll hear it back at the Monastery, and that’s three days behind us.”

 

Patrick looked to Alan, who shrugged. “It’s about time we stirred something up!”

 

“Kenneth? Darryn? Thom? Greyeyes?” One by one, Patrick polled the party. The boys all nodded—Darryn and Greyeyes especially enthusiastically.

 

James dismounted, walked up to the bloodstained altar, and poured holy water on it as he pronounced a blessing. Instantly, a dense black smoke arose from the altar, enveloping James. The doors of the temple crashed open, and eight men, three armed with quarterstaffs and five with swords, rushed toward the party.

 

James had been overcome by the backlash of his successful cleansing of the altar. He lay, unconscious, beside the stone table. Kenneth rushed to the altar and stood over James, prepared to defend his fallen friend.

 

One of the clerics apparently recognized Patrick as the greatest threat, and successfully cast a spell that further distorted magic in Patrick’s vicinity, making it difficult for the elven tween to gather power for a spell of his own. Patrick paused to weigh his options only for a moment before wading in with his sword.

 

Darryn and Greyeyes stood side-by-side and advanced toward the dark clerics. Thinking them to be the weakest in the party, three of the clerics ganged up on the elven boys. Finding an opening, one of the clerics whipped his quarterstaff down at Greyeyes. The boy was unable to react in time, and the quarterstaff was about to crack open his head when Patrick stepped between the boy and the cleric, taking the blow on his right arm. The sound of Patrick’s arm breaking echoed from the front of the temple.

 

Alan’s long sword swept over the heads of the elven boys. It caught one of the clerics in the throat, and the other across his face. Both fell, mortally wounded. “Are you all right?” he demanded of Patrick.

 

“I can still fight…help Kenneth,” Patrick answered.

 

Darryn and Greyeyes dispatched the last of the trio of clerics who had tried to single them out, and turned to face two others coming toward them. Taking advantage of their short stature, they ducked under the clerics’ weapons and stabbed upward, penetrating deep into the chest before twisting the swords and pulling them out. Two more clerics died. Darryn looked around for another opponent while Patrick, shaking off the effects of the distortion spell, loosed a bolt of magical energy that crushed the chest of one of the evil clerics.

 

Kenneth, still standing over James, killed the man who had singled the boy out, while Alan dispatched the last of the clerics.

 

James sat up, coughing; his eyes were watering. As he tried to stand, he staggered into Kenneth’s arms.

 

“Well,” Patrick observed. “You wanted to raid an evil temple; you’ve gotten your wish. Alan, do you suppose there are more of them inside? No? Nor do I. Would you take Thom, Darryn, and Greyeyes inside to see what you can find? Kenneth, is James all right? Then would you do something about this arm?”

 

While Alan and the boys scoured the temple, Kenneth tended to Patrick.

 

From the temple they recovered four heavy silver plates, black with tarnish. James looked at the plates, and then asked, “Kenneth, what do you see?”

 

“Nothing special,” the boy replied. “They weren’t used in ritual, or at least not for any time. Magic isn’t bent as it passes through them.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” James said. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t take these…sell them in the next town.” Patrick nodded his agreement.

 

“Are there any towns nearby?” Alan asked James. They were nearing territory familiar to James, who had lived in the nearby town of Bowling Green.

 

“If we are where I think we are, there should be a village…at least a day and a little away, but nothing else. Don’t know about farms…probably not in this terrain…looks like we’ll be sleeping outside tonight.”

 

Alan’s practical experience while on hunting parties made him skilled at finding campsites. He located a small clearing with tall rocks on three sides and thick evergreens on the fourth. It was about 100 yards from the road, and a small stream, running fast enough not to freeze, was nearby. Under Alan’s direction, Darryn gathered hickory for a fire, while Thom and Greyeyes tended the horses.

 

Under James’ supervision, Kenneth examined Patrick’s healing arm, and loosened the splint. “I want to keep the splint on for a while longer…the sympathetic magic of the shafts of wood will help the bone heal straight.” The boy gathered magic, directing it to the bone, giving it energy to speed healing.

 

Patrick sat on a blanket with his back to a rock that had been heated by the sun earlier in the day. Darryn had easily drawn additional heat from the surrounding rocks and concentrated it in the rocks around their campsite. The warm rocks and the fire made the place quite comfortable. Greyeyes brought Patrick a mug of tea and sat beside him.

 

“You saved my life today,” the elven boy said. “You put yourself between me and that cleric. He would have killed me if you hadn’t. Thank you…Oh, I didn’t know adventuring would be so…Patrick, I killed a man today and helped kill another…and you were nearly killed to save me.”

 

“You don’t sound very happy that you finally killed someone,” Patrick said, watching Greyeyes closely.

 

“Oh, no!” Greyeyes replied. “I felt him die, and I felt his Evil. It seemed to fly all around me before it disappeared.”

 

After a pause the boy continued, “Patrick, does it ever get easy, seeing someone die? Killing someone?”

 

Patrick put down the mug of tea. With his uninjured arm, he pulled the elven boy to him. “Both you and Darryn killed for the first time, today. See, Darryn is with James. They’re talking about the same thing we are.

 

“I’m glad that you’re not happy, but I’m also glad that you can face what has happened and talk about it.

 

“It should never be easy to kill or to see someone die. No matter how evil a person is, no matter what he has done to deserve to die, it should not be easy to kill him. Not for a Good person, anyway.”

 

*****

 

The lightly forested lands gave way to fallow fields. It was the dead of winter, so the companions were not surprised that there were no crops in the fields. They were surprised, however, that so few of the fields had been prepared for the spring planting. Most of the fields seemed to have been abandoned for years: hedgerows were laced with vines, and the fields were weed-infested. Here and there among the desolation, a few scrawny goats and sheep picked listlessly at the weeds. Ahead, in a valley between low, rolling hills, the party saw the log palisade of a village.

 

From their vantage point, they could see that the village was laid out with a main street running north to south, intersected by a cross street. There seemed to be alleys running off the streets. The alleys were nearly closed to the sky by overhanging balconies on the top stories of the mostly two-storied buildings. All construction seemed to be of wood; many of the buildings had thatched roofs.

 

Alan lowered the hand that had been shading his eyes as he peered at the village. “This is, or was, a farming town, but these people aren’t making much of a living off the farms, now. We ought to find out a bit about them before we leave them at our backs.”

 

Thom interjected, “I don’t want to take Nimrod in there.”

 

Patrick agreed, “This is no place for elven horses, either. I think Thom and I should take the horses around the town…through those woods, well to the east…while the rest of you reconnoiter the town. Alan, would you lead a party?”

 

Alan nodded. “Yes. We should plan to stay the night, if the place isn’t too hostile or dirty, and meet you about 2 miles north of town by, say noon, tomorrow. If we don’t like what we see, we’ll be there before dark today.”

 

With Alan in the lead, and James at the rear, the small band approached the village. The palisade was in disrepair and the guard at the gate did not appear to be in uniform. Like other men they saw, he wore a dark leather jacket with fur trim at the wrist, waist, and throat, over trousers and shirt that might once have been some color other than dull gray. The guard’s lethargic challenge, “Names? Destination?” was answered by Alan. “Alan, and companions. Headed for Bowling Green.”

 

This seemed to satisfy the guard; he waved them on. The boys walked past taverns, inns, warehouses, and seedy shops. The people were tall and thick. The dominant hair color was blond, although the general filth of the people gave a new meaning to “dirty blond.” As the boys continued, keeping to the center of the street, they garnered a few dull stares, none of which appeared hostile.

 

They were about three-quarters of the way through the town before Alan called a halt before an inn whose sign was a pig in a kettle. What a nasty way to prepare pork, Alan thought, not that I’d want to eat pork at this place.

 

Alan raised his eyebrows and gave James the signs meaning “safe” and “query.” James took a handkerchief and made as if to wipe his face while he cast spells to check out the inn. His nod was tempered by his tight lips. “Safe” and “caution” signs were returned. Alan led the party into the dim common room of the inn.

 

James took a seat at a trestle table, his back to the room, allowing Alan and Thom to sit with their backs to the wall. He’d have to rely on them to warn him of any potential trouble. Darryn and Greyeyes sat next to James, their body language suggesting their obvious reluctance to be so exposed.

 

A ragged boy came over and swiped at the table with a cloth that was only marginally cleaner than the floor. “What do you want?” he asked.

 

The boys looked to Alan, who asked for bread, cheese, and beer. When the boy had left, he said, “Go easy on the beer. I’d have asked for water, but I’d be afraid of what might be swimming in it.” Darryn giggled at the thought of Alan being afraid of anything.

 

A drunk at the next table had chosen that exact moment to spill the dregs of his beer into his lap, and apparently thought Darryn was laughing at him. He threw his empty wooden tankard with more force than aim, but managed to strike Darryn on the arm. “I’ll not have any pixie giggling at me, I won’t,” he slurred, standing a little unsteadily. His companion, apparently thinking that throwing tankards was the order of the day, threw his…still three-fourths full of beer, in the general direction of James. The raven-haired tween ducked, and the tankard landed in the middle of the next table, occupied by two not-at-all drunken men.

 

The sober men stood, drew daggers, and started in the direction from which the tankard had been thrown…that is, straight at James. The drunks, apparently remorseful at the loss of their tankards, stood and moved in from the other side. Quickly assessing the situation, Alan drew his sword and smashed the flat against the head of the more sober of the two men approaching James. Darryn stuck out his foot, and easily tripped the other, who fell into the arms of the leading drunk, giving James an opportunity to drive a fist into the side of the man’s head, felling him. One drunk turned tail and ran. The other, knocked down by the man falling into his arms, crawled away muttering about pixies.

 

Alan’s gaze swept the room. Only a few of the other patrons had bothered to turn to see what was happening, and those had returned their attention to their drinks. The serving boy casually stepped over one of the unconscious men and set a platter of bread and cheese on the table. In his other hand he held five tankards, which he put down beside the platter without spilling a drop. “That’ll be a shilling,” he said. “Do you want these guys removed? I’ll do it for a penny.”

 

Alan counted out two sixpence, and added a tupenny. “Yes, please, I don’t think they want to play anymore.”

 

The boy grabbed one of the men by the ankles and pulled him out of the way, then returned for the second. “Will you want a room tonight? I can get you one for sixpence.”

 

Alan nodded and a deal was struck. The boy brought the key to a room in the back of the inn, and left with a sixpence for the innkeeper, and another tupence hidden in his belt.

 

After dinner, they cleaned quickly in the common bath, and retired to the room, where James set wards on the door. “It’s not as good as Patrick would do,” he said, “but it will give us enough time to get out the windows.”

 

“Thanks,” Alan said. “I’ll take the mid watch; Darryn, you are first; then Kenneth. After me will be James; Greyeyes, you’ve the dawn watch.”

 

Kenneth was on watch. The room seemed stuffy, so he tiptoed to the window and opened the wooden shutters a crack. There was a strong smell of smoke. Kenneth threw open the window to see the sky bright with flames. The town was burning! His cries wakened the others, who rushed to the window.

 

“This looks like a good place not to be.” James offered.

 

“Right. Let’s go.” Alan directed.

 

Quickly gathering their effects, the five left the room, raced down the stairs, and burst into the street.

 

The town appeared to be ill equipped to deal with the fire, which was spreading through the section of town in which the inn lay. The streets were full of people, milling about and shouting. As the party tried to move through the crowd, the muttering and the fingers of the people become directed to them.

 

“Strangers! It’s their fault,” one man yelled. Others took up the cry.

 

Alan gestured to his companions, “Follow me; James take the rear.” Holding his quarterstaff in front of himself, he pushed people aside willy-nilly, breaking a path for the others to follow. As the crowd thinned, the companions broke into a run, ducking down alleys that seemed clear of people. Within minutes, they were hopelessly lost.

 

They had outrun the fire and the crowd, at least for the moment. Pausing to catch their breath, they stood in a dark doorway. Suddenly, the door opened. James had been leaning against the door. He fell in, and nearly knocked over a small figure inside.

 

A boy, dressed in a dog’s breakfast of rags, beckoned to them. The room behind him was in total darkness. The companions heard crowd noise—angry crowd noise—approaching. James gestured. His spell told him that the boy was not evil. “This is the better path for us, now,” he said to Alan, who nodded and led the way inside the room.

 

The boy closed the door behind them, and opened the shutter of a dark lantern. Its dim glow revealed an empty room. The boy beckoned them to follow him through a door in the rear of the room. It opened to wooden stairs descending to a basement. The boy reached into what appeared to be a crack between two stone blocks set in the floor. “Here,” he said. “Help me with the door.”

 

James whispered to Darryn, “Any danger…is the door trapped? Will it signal someone if it is opened?” Darryn looked closely, and then shook his head in the negative. Alan looked to James for confirmation. James nodded, and Alan helped the boy pull on the block, which lifted to reveal a black hole in the floor. The boy pointed his lantern into the opening in the floor. The lantern illuminated stone steps leading downward. “It’s safe for you, here,” the boy said, and started down the stairs.

 

Once again, Alan looked to James for leadership. James shrugged, drew his dagger, and nodded. Alan shifted his quarterstaff to his left hand, and drew his sword before following the boy down the stairs. James gestured to the others to follow. James brought up the rear, and pulled the door down behind him.

 

Alan counted 27 steps before the stairs ended. The boy with the lantern led the way down a stone-walled tunnel that was barely wide enough for one person and just tall enough for Alan. Behind Alan, there was a flicker of light, and then a steady blue glow as James cast a spell of illumination on the metal ring set into his quarterstaff. The boy glanced back briefly, and then proceeded. Alan noted that the boy did not seem surprised by the spell.

 

As he walked through the tunnel, Kenneth lightly touched his hand to the stone walls. Concentrating, he felt great age in the stones—and a hint of an old menace. He turned his head and whispered to James, “There was Evil here, but I think it’s gone, now.”

 

James nodded. He tightened his lips and his grip on his sword. “Be alert,” he whispered. Kenneth tapped his ring on his belt buckle in the pattern that meant caution. The boys proceeded down the tunnel, senses heightened.

 

A breeze began to fan their faces; the smell of smoke from the fire behind them was gone, to be replaced with other, less pleasant odors. Alan estimated that they’d walked nearly two miles. In front of him, the boy slowed and turned his head.

 

“We’re nearly there,” he whispered. “Be especially quiet.” Alan nodded, knowing the boy could not see his face, but only his outline in the light from James’ spell behind him.

 

The boy’s lantern showed a flight of stone steps leading up perhaps 20 feet to a stout wooden door. Leading the way, the boy tapped lightly on the door: a pattern of knocks. There was the sound of heavy bolts being drawn. The door swung out on silent hinges.

 

A boy stood in the doorway; behind him were several others. A single torch illuminated the room. A susurrus of whispers echoed from the walls. The boy who led them through the tunnel rushed into the room. Seeing no danger, Alan entered the room. The boys fell silent, their eyes wide.

 

Three boys in shackles, linked by a large chain, sat against the wall. Two other boys, unchained, plus the one who had led the companions, stood beside them. Alan’s companions entered behind him, and took up defensive positions.

 

“Okay, lad, it’s time for some explanations. What’s going on, here?” Alan demanded, his eyes fixed sternly on the boy who had led them this far. “Who are you, and who are these boys?”

 

“Who chained you here, and when will they be back?” added James, more practically.

 

A light seemed to dim in the boy’s eyes at this. “I…I’m sorry…I saw that you were strangers…no one in the town would help us…I thought that you might.”

 

“Who are you, boy?” Alan asked, gently this time. “We can’t help you unless we know what help you need, and what dangers we face.”

 

“My name is Andrew; my friend is Daniel. We are heart-bound. The others are Edward, Willie, Kevin, and Kyle. They won’t be back for us for hours…they’ve all fallen asleep…drunk.”

 

James had cautiously cast low-strength spells. “He’s telling the truth…and we seem to be in no immediate danger. Alan, can you break those shackles without hurting them?”

 

Alan examined the shackles. “No. They’re too heavy…and the locks look complicated. The walls are old. I can try to break the chain’s staples from the wall.”

 

“Then do so…quietly, please.”

 

Darryn piped up, “May I try?” At James’ nod, Darryn removed from his belt pouch two metal picks with which he attacked the lock holding the boys’ chains to the wall. Kenneth, watching intently, saw a glow form around the picks and the locks as Darryn added magic to the task. In moments, the lock was open, and the boys were released. Starting with Andrew’s friend, Darryn began to work on the locks holding the shackles on the boy’s wrists.

 

As each boy was freed, he gathered his chains and looped them around his waist, muffling them with rags of clothing.

 

“Now, let’s hear more,” James asked.

 

The boys gathered around, and Andrew told their story. “We’re in the basement of a monastery about two miles from the town. We were honorable Thieves, living in the streets of the town, until the monks captured us, one at a time, and brought us here. They use us—as slaves and catamites.” Glancing at his friend Daniel, he said, “They send us to town to steal, one or two at a time, knowing that we’ll return because they keep our companions chained up.”

 

Andrew boldly addressed James. “We saved you from the fire and from the townspeople. Now you must save us from the monks.”

 

Alan looked at James, “But, you can’t enter an evil place…” His voice trailed off. “You’ve not lost your power, have you?”

 

“This is a place of old evil; it’s weak. If there were an evil altar, it’s long since been deconsecrated—or de-deconsecrated, I guess. I sense no strong source of Darkness. If these monks serve Evil or are Evil, it is an evil of their own making,” James replied. Turning to Andrew, he asked, “How many men are there?”

 

“Eight,” the boy replied.

 

“And how are they armed,” Alan interjected.

 

“They all have daggers and quarterstaffs,” replied Andrew.

 

“And the dark one,” Willie interrupted. “He can freeze you just looking at you. Well, he can…” this last in response to a snicker from one of the other boys.

 

Alan gestured to his companions; the five moved to a corner of the room.

 

“Andrew’s telling the truth, at least as far as he sees things.” James began. “This is a bad situation for them. The men are probably not monks; they’re probably just brigands and thieves who are using the old monastery for cover.”

 

“The boys are thieves, but no worse,” Kenneth added. “And they—at least one—did help us back in the town. Likely saved our lives.”

 

“We’re outnumbered 8 to 5,” Alan noted. “But we’ve got swords against quarterstaffs. The boys will be of no help, or only little help.”

 

“The men may still be drunk,” Greyeyes interjected. “The longer we wait, the more sober they’ll be.”

 

Alan considered his companions’ thoughts. “We’re agreed, then. We’ll help these boys?”

 

His companions nodded assent.

 

Alan led a quick conference with the Boy-Thieves. Andrew was to lead Alan and his companions to the soi-disant monks; the other boys were to stay out of the way. Alan, Kenneth, and Greyeyes drew their swords. Darryn was to use his magically-enhanced skills to check for traps and unlock doors until it was time to join the battle. James kept his hands free for spells that might be required, just in case, he thought, there is a real renegade monk or two among the brigands.

 

At Alan’s signal, Darryn checked the closed door that would open to the monastery, but found no immediate danger behind the door. Alan stood aside while Darryn made quick work of the lock and opened the door. Alan then took the lead, followed by Andrew. Darryn was next followed by James; Greyeyes and Kenneth took the rear guard position. The hallway leading from the boys’ room was lit by a few oil lamps, most guttering to extinction with the approach of morning. Because they concentrated on what was ahead of them, the companions were unaware that the remaining boys had crept out of the room behind them. The boys’ bare feet made no sound on the stone floor as they ducked from shadow to shadow.

 

Pausing in a hallway, Andrew pointed to a circular flap of leather nailed at the top to the wall, about 5 feet above the floor. He gestured for Alan to lift the flap. It was a judas —a spy hole. After getting Darryn’s okay, Alan slowly moved his left eye to the hole; through it, he could see what had been the refectory of the monastery. The current occupants of the monastery had turned the large, high-ceilinged room into a pig sty. Lamps, like those in the hall, only a few of which remained lit, provided just enough light for Alan to count eight snoring, filth-covered lumps. He withdrew from the judas and lowered the flap. Silently he signaled to James and Kenneth, 8 unaware. Darryn and Greyeyes exchanged glances. We’re going to have to learn these signals, they both thought.

 

James and Kenneth nodded their understanding. Alan gestured for Andrew to lead the way. The boy led the party down the hall, around a corner, and pointed to a set of tall doors. One was closed and one was cracked open. Alan gently pushed the boy behind him, hoping that the boy understood that he was to stay out of the way. Alan and his companions approached the door. On a signal less seen or heard than felt, they crashed into the room, yelling as if they were demons of darkness come to claim the souls of the brigands.

 

Alan and Kenneth fell on the closest two brigands, just as they roused themselves from their drunken sleep. One was able to lift a trencher as a shield, but Alan’s sword sliced through the trencher and then through the man. Kenneth’s sword thrust deep into the second brigand, and blood gushed from the man’s mouth, opened in vain to cry an unnecessary warning to his companions. Pulling his sword from the falling body, Kenneth turned to defend himself from a third brigand who, more alert than his fellows, had managed to draw a dagger. Darryn and Greyeyes, at some disadvantage because of their size, ganged up on a single brigand, working closely together to block his attack and slash at his thighs and stomach.

 

James held back briefly to assess the situation. Sensing no magic, but still cautious, he took a quarterstaff one of the brigands had left beside the door, and moved in. He cracked one of the brigands on the head, stunning and perhaps killing him, before the man could react.

 

As Alan looked around for his next victim, Andrew and the other boys rushed through the door, swinging the chains with which they’d been imprisoned. The boys ran pell-mell at one of the brigands, and began pummeling him. The boys’ anger was no match for the skill of the man, and his dagger delivered mortal blows. Edward, Daniel, and Willie fell lifeless before the other boys could club the Brigand-Monk to death. Meanwhile, Kenneth had skewered a second man. By now, the surviving men were fully aroused. Alan struggled to defend himself against a Brigand who, perhaps less drunk than his companions, was proving a formidable foe.

 

Darryn and Greyeyes, quickly joined by Kenneth, engaged the seventh brigand, while James moved toward the eighth and last.

 

As James parried the eighth brigand’s furious quarterstaff blows, a deep lethargy came over him; his legs become harder and harder to move. James cried out weakly, “Kenneth… Alan…” and fell to the ground. The brigand prepared to deliver a killing blow to James’ head when Andrew jumped upon the man’s back, stabbing with a dagger retrieved from a dead brigand. The man flailed at the boy, but was not able to dislodge him. Alan, having dispatched his second foe, deftly slid his sword alongside Andrew’s leg and through the brigand.

 

All eight of the brigands lay dead. Three of the boys were dead, and the others had suffered bruises and small cuts. James’ lethargy, somehow induced by the brigand he was fighting, vanished with the man’s death. Alan, Darryn, Greyeyes, and Kenneth were unhurt.

 

James and Kenneth treated minor cuts and bruises; Alan stood beside Andrew who knelt next to the body of his companion, Daniel. Andrew pressed his face against the dead boy’s chest; sobs shook his body.

 

Alan gently touched Andrew’s shoulder. “He died a warrior, lad. He died defending those he loved and avenging wrong that had been done to him and them.”

 

The boy stood, “The wrong that was done to him should not have been done! Why did he…why did we all…have to suffer this?” The boy’s gesture seemed to include not just the room and the dead brigands, but the entire World. “Why must there be such evil?”

 

James, overheard Andrew, and came to him. “Their evil brought you to us, and saved our lives in the town. Their evil brought us to you, and freed you and erased them. Daniel’s death and the others’ have freed them to—someday—begin another life, perhaps one in which there is less evil. If you wish Daniel’s death to be meaningful, live your life in a way that will make the world a better place to which he will return.”

 

The boys built a funeral pyre for their dead friends. James and Kenneth invoked the Light as the boys’ bodies, now empty of that which made them who they were, burned brightly in the rays of the rising sun.

 

Andrew spoke softly to James, “Thank you for what you said—about Daniel. He was a good friend and our bond was strong. We will meet again.”

 

“What will you do, now,” Alan asked Andrew, who has assumed leadership of the surviving boys.

 

“We are Thieves, and we serve the Balance between Light and Dark. The town is pure Evil. We cannot return there. Nor can we travel with you—you are Good. I…I don’t know…”

 

Alan understood that for all his experience, and for all the strength Andrew had shown until now, he was still a boy. “Come with us just a few miles,” Alan said. “I want you to meet someone.”

 

The boys looked puzzled, but followed as Alan and his companions walked briskly through the woods toward the north. Before an hour had passed, they reached the edge of the road. Alan paused to whistle the call of a lark. The whistle was answered, and the boys were startled to see two figures on horseback, leading a train of horses, emerge from the woods on the other side of the road, and ride toward them.

 

Thom eagerly greeted Darryn, Greyeyes, and Kenneth and with their help tied packs to the horses Meanwhile, Alan and James summarized the situation for Patrick.

 

“So you see,” Alan concluded, “we’ve got three Boy-Thieves with no place to go. They don’t want to go back to the town because it’s too Evil; and, after the fire, they’d not likely be welcome or safe. They say they can’t join us because we’re too Good. We had to bring them…they’d have died if we hadn’t helped them, or if we’d left them on their own.”

 

“James,” Patrick asked, “about how far do you think it is to Bowling Green?”

 

“I’d guess more than two tendays in good weather. Likely take us an extra five days to go through the pass this time of year, and that’s if there’s no storm.”

 

“Are there any other towns closer?”

 

“Sure. Forrest Green. It’s bigger than Bowling Green, and about two, maybe three days northwest on this road. What are you thinking?”

 

“Think this through with me. Just as we serve the Light, the Thieves serve the Balance. Now, that means that sometimes they help the Dark. But just as often, they help the Light. The more that Light and Dark are in Balance, the less extreme Evil will be. Thieves are like...inoculating against a disease with a little bit of the disease. You might get slightly sick, but you don’t get seriously ill. Then, when the epidemic comes, you’re body is strong…you’re safe, and don’t get sick at all.”

 

James nodded his head. This was student healer stuff. Alan, however, was in his trust Patrick even though I don’t understand him mode. “I knew you’d think of something,” he said. “What did you think of?”

 

“We’re going to take these boys to Forrest Green and turn them loose. If Evil’s there, the Thieves will help the Light. If Evil hasn’t arrived, they will help the town prepare for a greater Evil by exposing it to a lesser Evil. We’ll notify the right people, of course. And I want to put the boys under an oath.”

 

After receiving nods from his friends, Patrick turned to Andrew and his surviving companions. “Andrew, you saved my friends from the fire and the townspeople, and they rescued you from the brigands. Three of your friends were killed; eight evil men were killed. Andrew saved the life of James, a cleric of the Light. The Balance had been disturbed. Today it was restored—at least in this corner of World. We have agreed among ourselves to escort you to a city where you can practice your craft and serve the Balance. But you must first swear an oath that you will never serve Evil. You see, if you ever stopped serving the Balance and started serving Evil, you would become our enemies, and we would have to kill you. We would cry for you, but we would surely kill you. And we don’t want to have to do that, ever. Will you swear?”

 

Andrew asked, “And if we will not? Will you kill us?”

 

“Oh, no, Andrew. That’s what we don’t want!” Kenneth said, anguish in his voice.

 

“You care about us, don’t you?” Andrew marveled. “No one has ever cared about us before.”

 

“Yes, we do care about you,” Alan said. “All of us care about you. And that’s why we want you to swear never to be Evil.”

 

“We will swear as you say,” Andrew said, his voice soft but sure, “and we will remember you for as long as we live and forever after.”

 

Translators’ Notes

 

Pending publication of the glossary, this definition is offered:

 

judas: n On this Earth-analogue, a judas is a spy hole in a door or a wall, perhaps containing a lens, which allows someone to see what is on the other side of the door or wall. On World, a judas would not have a lens, because lenses are forbidden technology, but might be covered with a flap of leather on the observer’s side. On the opposite side from the observer, a judas might be concealed in ornate woodwork, by the careful placement of illumination causing a shadow to fall on the judas hole, etc. A more elaborate judas might be covered with gauze (a curtain, wall hanging, or picture) on the side opposite the observer. The name, “Judas” has a significantly different meaning on World than on Earth. On World, Judas was the name of a spy who supported the Light in a great war. His deeds are recorded in The Book of Heroes.