Chapter 7

“Well if they did, they won’t be going far then. The swamp and camp will stop them fast,” said Flet in a mumble. He started snoring in a not so soft manner.

Brena had heard the men speaking and waited for them to finish. ‘A swamp, and a camp? That’s easy enough to get around.’ she thought. Brena went back to the road and carefully crossed it, making sure the cloak stayed between her and the watchful guard when he was looking down the other way. The hardest part of the crossing was the fact this section of the road was very dusty. She had to move slowly and smoothly so as not to scuff or stir the dust. She felt she had made it across the road without being spotted and was soon well past the two men.

A minute after she had cleared the two road watchers, Brena heard a woman scream in the distance in the direction of the camp. She froze and thought, ‘Oh shit, they have prisoners.’ She had a moment of indecision, go on and escape, or do what she knew to be right in her heart and try to rescue the folks if at all possible. Her father may have been a thief, but he was also a good man and would do what was right. He hated slavers and he had given her that same hatred. Slavers were the lowest form of human life in the world and had to be destroyed as soon as they were found out.

Brena continued in the woods for several minutes until she was well away from the two men. At a better-graveled section of the road, she crossed back over to the side of the camp. She took a moment to hide her packs and bags in a section of the brush she would be able to find easily. She made sure she had her short sword and daggers plus a few spares; she pulled the cloak tight around herself. She took one more look at the location, locking a picture in her mind so she could be sure to find it again and moved out in the direction the scream had come from.

Brena had been learning how to move quietly in the brush of the wood and field over the last few weeks and had become a fairly quiet ghost in the woods. Add the effect of the slippers and cloak and she was a ghost. After a few minutes, she began to hear voices off to her left. She slowly moved in that direction and soon came upon a small, well-used camp clearing in the woods. Staying low she was able to get close enough to see the camp clearly and get a headcount. Just four tents, half a dozen horses staked down to keep them from roaming, a small fire with a medium-sized iron cook pot hanging over it. The one thing she saw on the far side that sickened her was a woman tied and spread in a heavy wooden X frame. She was held in place by the ropes and easily accessible to any that wanted to use her as they wanted. Brena could see the woman had been whipped badly and had rivulets of blood running down her legs, back and face. Brena could tell the woman lived by the way she was shaking and could hear her sobbing from the pain of her injuries.

“I have to stop this,” thought Brena. “They die, but how can I get them all?” She did a second count and saw three men in camp, “So five counting the road watchers.” They were talking and laughing about how the woman had just been so easy to capture from the village just down the road, and how the men ran rather than fight for her. Brena slowly circled the camp and spotted what she thought might be the way to get them all. They had set a large water bag on a wooden rack, she watched as while several of the men pulled mugs of water from it. None of them took the woman any water though. “A distraction is needed.” she thought. Looking at the camp, her eyes returned to the horses. ‘If I can get them riled up, I might be able to take several of the men down before they know I’m here.’ Brena reached for her packs, only to remember she had left them hidden away by the road. Thinking very un-ladylike thoughts at her lack of foresight, she looked at the ground and found a few small stones that might work for what she had in mind. She waited until the men were all facing away from her and rose enough to throw a stone at the hindquarters of the nearest horse.

She hit it but the only result was the horse flicking its tail like it was chasing off a biting fly. She waited for another opening and sent another stone flying. This time she aimed at the nose of the furthest horse. She hit it just under the left eye and the horse snorted and kicked out in surprise. It didn’t look or care where the kick would land and it laid a hoof into the horse that was partially behind it. This caused the second horse to respond with a hard bite at the first horse. This, of course, had a response of another kick and a bite with an accompanying squealing. The kick missed the second horse and hit one of the men that had turned to see what the horses were getting upset about. The hoof caught him in the upper left leg. Brena heard the heavy bone crunch and snap, causing the man to scream as he fell to the ground as his leg bent in a place it was never meant to bend. The other men had turned and had seen their partner go down from the kick. He was screaming in agony and this noise upset the other horses.

They began to edge away from the commotion and this upset the first and second horse more, causing more kicks, nips, and screams. The cycle of panic reaction in the animals was the distraction Brena had hoped for. She stood up and let fly first one dagger, then a second. The first caught its target in the man’s right cheek, cutting his face open. The second dagger had better luck in its flight. It caught another man in the mouth as he opened it to yell a warning. The throw was hard enough it punched through the back of the throat and into the spinal column. He dropped and never moved again. The third man spun in place to look in the direction the daggers had come from. He had little chance to react as Brena had pulled her short sword and charged as soon as she had let the first two blades fly. Her blade cut across his chest, slicing it open, but it was not a killing blow. She tried to bring the blade back around but was it had smacked into the man with the cut face.

He grabbed at the blade that had just sliced into his upper right arm. He did manage to grab hold of it until she pulled it back and cut his grasping hand in half. As fast as she was, she was still not fast enough. The man she had cut grabbed for her and managed to latch onto her free arm. He yanked her over towards him to try to get her in a grapple to subdue her. His pull caused her to spin towards him. Brena took advantage of the motion and was able to bring up her right knee as she came in range and hit that place all men try to never be hit in. She watched as his eyes tried to come out of his head for a few seconds before a faint cry issued from his throat. He dropped to his knees then fell over to his side, curled up in a ball of agony.

Again she was still too slow to move and react. The man with the cut arm and cheek came at her with full intent to kill her now. He wasn’t in the best shape and wasn’t paying full attention to the horses and bumped against one then. The horse reacted by spinning around to face what it thought might be an attacker. It hit the man with its forequarters and sent him staggering across the camp to land in the campfire, spilling the simmering pot of food on him. Between scalding, flames and blood loss, he passed out and very quickly expired.

Brena recovered her daggers and managed to get out of sight just before the two road watchers made it back to the camp to find out what all the noise was about. They saw the slowly cooking man in the fire pit, and horses were just finishing the stomping of the one Brena had sent the dagger into his mouth. The third had fallen where Brena had left him, curled up in a ball as he slowly bled out. Flet finally spoke, “You know Bord, I think you did see something.”

“Yep, I did,” said Bord.

“Question is, do we want to find it?” asked Flet.

“Not particularly,” replied Bord.

Flet said loudly, “We’ll just grab our gear and be on our way then.” Both men grabbed a tent each, pulled out packs, scrambling away as fast as they could manage. The horses had not settled down yet and Bord got too close and was attacked by one of the enraged beasts. His head splattered like a melon dropped from a high place when a front hoof hit as the horse reared up and came back down. Flet just backed away, dropped the tent taking only the pack with him. As he turned to run, Brena threw one of the spare daggers at him. Her throw, while good did not hit as she had wanted. He figured that she would try something having spotted her and tried to dodge the attack. So rather than taking a dagger in the back, it caught his lower left arm. He screamed in pain, but kept running, holding his pack in his right hand, throwing his left arm around to try and dislodge the dagger. After a few swings, the dagger dropped free and he bolted for the woods. Flet just hoped he could last long enough before stopping to fix the bleeding wound.

Brena cursed herself for being so careless with her attacks. She was a trained thief, not a warrior. Her sneak attacks and throws should have taken the men down right away. Instead, she had had to close and go hand to hand, and one had even escaped her. “I do need advanced training. I have to get to the Cove or I will never be able to avenge my parents and the guilds deaths,” she said.

She went to check the woman that was bound in the rape frame. She was alive but not well. Brena carefully cut her free of the bondage ropes and lowered her to the ground. Brena could see the woman was in bad shape. She was bleeding from her nether regions from the abuse she had been subjected to during her captivity. She was at a loss on how the help the poor woman as she had never had advanced training as a healer.

The woman looked at her after a moment and smiled. “Thanks, kid, I was kind of stuck there for a bit.” She looked around and pointed at a pile of gear near the fire. “My gear is there, look for a pouch with a cloverleaf on it and bring it to me.” Brena went to the pile and searched through the mess of ruined clothing and travel gear. She found the pouch the woman wanted but found it had been opened and emptied. She took it to the woman and showed it to her without a word. The woman looked at it and grimaced. “Could be worse I guess.” She slid her right forefinger along a seam and it opened to her touch. From the hidden compartment, she pulled out a tiny vial of a greenish liquid. Brena had to help her remove the cork, the woman drank the evil-looking liquid. In a few seconds, most of the bleeding stopped and the surface wounds began to close.

Brena stared in amazement at what she was seeing. This was something she had only heard tales of but never seen for herself. That was a potion of complete healing, thought Brena. “Where did you get that potion? That was incredible to watch.”

“Bought it a long time ago kid, back in the day when I was with a merc outfit that was the go-to team if things went seriously wrong in a kingdom.” She stood up and dusted herself off. She frowned at the blood that was dried on and walked to the pile of clothing. She found a shift that wasn’t too messed up slid it over her head. “Now to see if I can salvage any more of my stuff.” She started sorting out the items in the pile.

“How did they capture you?” asked Brena while keeping an eye out for further trouble.

“Same way anybody can be caught kid, I had to sleep sometime and they found me here.” She held up a leather tunic that was undamaged and nodded. “It happens to the best of us sometimes kid. Though if I catch up to the two idiots that were traveling with me...” She made a slicing motion. She spotted what she thought were the matching pants. They had been cut but could be salvaged with a bit of work. “You did pretty well yourself for a kid, what’s your name.

“Brena, Brena Sizemore,” said Brena.

The woman’s head came up and looked hard at Brena. “Sizemore?” she asked. “You wouldn’t happen to be Anson’s kid would you?”

“Yes. Anson Sizemore was my father,” answered Brena.