As Cabe ran flames licked the sky behind him, the orange glow of the burning clan-lodge lay framed against the dark horizon. The wound in his side was beginning to slow him now; the blood that seeped from the hastily bandaged cut drained him of his strength with every step. The baby had not stopped crying since he had left the site of the struggle and it was beginning to become a hindrance to his immediate plans of survival. The crying would eventually attract attention when he chose to travel any major trade road, combined with his rapidly worsening wound the situation would quickly become confounded and unfortunate. After several painful hours of his dilemma Cabe decided to put self-preservation before any notions of profit. Tearing off several strips for dressings he wrapped the child in what remained of her swaddling. With a painful wheeze he lay her down in the hollow of an old, dead tree. He could not bring himself to end its life even though he knew some creature would eventually be attracted by the scent. He hoped its death would be quick at the hands of that which chose the infant as its next meal and he hoped that his conscience would allow him to forget all the terrible proceedings that had occurred. With a wavering step he set off, away from the fading screams of the child.
They had been walking through this rumour of destruction for some time when a porter who had woken particularly grumpily that morning stumbled on a well-concealed rock in the middle of the road. Falling before anyone could catch him his baggage split and scattered across the well-trodden track. Cursing his fate several other porters and guards went to his aid and began picking up all that they could lay their hands on, packing the items where they saw fit so that the caravan would not be too troubled. Quietly laughing to himself Daven looked away from the accident into the thick brush of the forest. With the irritable murmurs and obliging shouts behind him he knew the porters would not take too kindly to his apparent indifference to the situation, after all it was his wares that were at stake in this business expedition. As the situation calmed Daven took in a deep breath and turned to his employees. It was then that he was caught by a faint noise emanating from some distance into the forest. At first he thought it may be the call of a bird but it was too long and too desperate to be anything of the kind. It sounded more like the cries of a desperate child.
Ordering two of his guards to accompany him while the rest cleared whatever mess remained he entered the brink of the Forest to search for the origin of the cries. There were many creatures in Fortitude that could summon up a scream of this sort but the fact that it was so human-like in its quality compelled Daven to investigate. The Forest was calm and cool compared to the warm early morning sun of the open road, the noise of the screaming was muffled among the mass of trees and it was difficult to discern from where it was coming from. One of the guards whom Daven had chosen to accompany him had spent much of his childhood hunting with his father in woods such as these and so knew some of the skills to make the search easier.
Daven and his two guards eventually came upon a small clearing where the screaming seemed loudest yet he could still tell no obvious origin. It appeared to be coming from inside an old hollow stump of a long dead tree. Peering over the side he was startled to see a tiny infant, wrapped in a cloak, her face covered with broken bark, dirt and tears. Picking her up from out of the hollow he brushed away what dirt he could, her face puckered and red from the continual sobbing. Unsure of what to do he rocked her gently in his arms to calm her down. The best course of action, he decided, would be to take her back to the caravan, give her some food and make a decision there.
Although Daven was unsure about the time the infant had spent in the forest he was amazed that she had not been taken by some hungry creature in the night. As he pondered this question and many more he became aware of another conspicuous noise; the growling of some canine form somewhere ahead, between them and the trade road.
He noticed a form between the trees, a mangy old looking wolf, pack-less and troubling some form that could not be made out. The two guards drew their swords while Daven remained holding the now quiet child. As they approached the growling wolf, they made out the form it was attempting to tear into, a dead Dragonblood man. It already appeared that something had gotten to the corpse, a leg had been torn from its body and half of its stomach was missing. When Daven came close to the animal it whirled around and began to snarl. It was not aimed at Daven or the guards, however, but rather its attention seemed focused at the child. Although the rage that it appeared to possess for the bundle caused it to bark and yelp it also seemed fixed by it, as if there was some fear deep inside that prevented it from moving. Still unsure at the dozens of questions that rolled around in his head concerning the child he ordered one of the guards to ready an arrow. The wolves fixed aggression did not lose its focus in the light of this and with Daven’s order the guard loosed his bow and with a brief yelp the wolf crumpled onto the ground.
Daven did not order the Dragonblood to be buried; he did not wish any more distractions to his trip. He knew that the body would be quickly removed from any shallow grave or cairn that they may undertake by the carrion beasts that teemed in the forest. He was presented by a greater problem now anyway, what to do with this foundling child? Perhaps when he arrived back at Razor some opportunity may present itself, his brother knew many people that may themselves know of a missing child or kidnap plot, perhaps he would be able to help.
He had met them in the city of Reek where they were spending time recuperating from a rather complex quest. He had approached their leader, Erwel, after spotting him among the throngs that amassed in the city’s high street. Dubious at first Erwel listened to the old man’s request; the details of a notably vicious group of outlaws consisting of mainly Woman Empire allied Dragonblood who had most recently raided a small settlement near Rigor. The situation was an emergency and the old man needed to raise some bounty hunters to intercept these outlaws, knowing that they would soon pass into Greenwater territory. After much pleading (and an increased fee) Erwel agreed and gathered his people from the many inns and gambling dens that dotted the city.
After half a days march toward the Greenwater Empire border they had turned off from the road and had set a small camp in the middle of the woods. Erwel, at the request of the old man had not allowed any of the bounty hunters to strike any fires lest they provide forewarning to the outlaws. This left them to make do with only cold rations and water to sustain them. It had been an inconvenience but the reward that they stood to gain was considerable and they were willing to make do to get their hands on it.
Finn was the first to see the dust cloud in the distance. Kicked up by many dozens of feet it grew as it closed in on the ambushers, blowing away as an ever-decreasing trail behind them.
Finn had questioned many of the facts of the job, he had wondered how it was the old man had known so much of the outlaws, how he had known where they would cross and where it was they were going. He felt that it didn’t ring true that this supposed fearsome and clever group of Dragonblood outlaws were being so bold as to travel back to their hideout (wherever it was) by a major trade road. All of the bounty hunters had been ordered to wait until Erwel’s indication, partly to make sure that this was the group they were after and secondly to maintain surprise when the time for attack finally came.
With nervous excitement growing every second Finn waited for what felt like hours. It was not until the outlaws at the head of the procession filtered past did the whisper to ready themselves ripple through the awaiting bounty hunters. To Finn it looked as if there were maybe fifty in the procession, some of them were acting as porters, a number appeared injured but they looked as if they would all present a danger when the call to attack was commanded.
Finn’s grip on his sword tightened as the Dragonblood continued to march on, Erwel had ordered the majority not to let loose any arrows before attacking. Finn had felt this was dangerous but he guessed that there was some reason for this, perhaps something too valuable to lose among the randomness of falling arrows lay amid the mass of Dragonblood bodies.
When Finn’s pocket of bounty hunters lay half way along the Dragonblood chain Erwel shouted the order to strike and in this moment chaos broke loose. Finn lay at the front of a pack ordered to attack through the marching line of the outlaws. They were to cut them in half and return to face the surprised, now supposedly reeling, line of warriors. Using the momentum gained from the incline they had charged down Finn and his group crashed through the line, severing it as an axe would split a log. Ripping through the line and emerging from the other side Finn looked to the left and right seeing that a majority of the other groups had broken through similarly. Whirling to face the stunned Dragonblood, Finn saw them turn also, readying themselves to attack those that had burst through. With their rear now facing the woods that the bounty hunters had emerged from, their leader, Erwel, ordered the still hidden archers to fire. Attacked by melee from one side and ranged weapons from the other the outlaws did not know which way to attack. Against the momentum of the bounty hunters they stood no chance and fell under both arrow and sharpened blade. They fought well and to the death but the freshness and experience of the bounty hunters proved too much for them. Finn took two of the Dragonblood himself, one with a vicious swipe across the shoulder that cleaved into the chest and another with a thrust through the neck, severing the spine.
As quickly as the attack had begun it was finished. The majority of the Dragonblood warriors were dead; most of those injured that Finn had spotted lay prone begging for mercy, the remainder of the porters huddled together, shivering with fear from what may befall them.
Finn was busy stripping some of the outlaw warriors when he saw Erwel and the old man approach the porters.
Pulling one of them away from their huddled wares Erwel searched with several other of the more senior
bounty hunters through the bags and chests. He saw a marked change in Erwel’s face when he came across a
small grubby white bundle, picking the some of the rags from the top of the bundle he looked across to
the old man and asked:
‘I think that we may have found something for you my dear friend.’
The old man walked across and gingerly picked the bundle from Erwel’s arms. ‘Yes’ he replied ‘this is
what I am looking for.’
In the old man’s arms lay a tiny sleeping baby, undisturbed from her slumber by the carnage that had mere minutes before, been all around her.