19-Den of Thieves 20-Soldiers 21-Some Panache 22-Footsore and Fancy Free 23-The Counsel that Was 24-Official Business - 25- Snooping, 26-the Latest Gossip 27-More About Peaches)
28-Into
a Jam
The Merchant’s Guild was ready with our faux caravan much
faster than we expected. It was just as well it didn’t take them days of
hemming and hawing because our thirty-two guys were getting bored. Bored
mercenaries in a foreign city is never good
thing, and Quill was determined to leave a good impression. Before we left I
made a short visit to the laundry room but Curlie wasn’t there. The latest
tizzy was the engagement of one of the girls so there was no use asking about
other goings on when I didn’t have several hours to devote to the endeavor. Quill’s
urchins hadn’t uncovered anything particularly useful either.
Now I sat on the back of a covered wagon watching the
bobbing heads of the draft horses pulling the next wagon in the caravan. Naiyn
dwindled into a glittering speck of palatial intrigue and the desolate badlands
rose from the ground like cobras. This whole job smelled funny and I was not
happy about our plan given our inability to locate the thieves’ wealthy city
connection. Quill wasn’t happy either, which was small comfort.
We returned Geordan’s horses in Trumble and continued on
our merry way into my least favorite place in all Serrifis. Today’s least
favorite. Without the detour to take baths and wash our clothes we made it into
the badlands by lunchtime and drew close to our doom much faster than last time.
Since I wasn’t particularly looking forward to our goal, the journey was both
onerously long and yet far too speedy.
Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of Wace, who was an
outrider on this expedition. He trailed along the side of the road scanning the
rocks and ground for signs of our scurrilous quarry. I kept a weather eye on
the rock peaks myself. They weren’t easy to climb, but they would be a
fantastic place to put archers in the event of an ambush. I wished our roles
were reversed and we could be the ones ambushing rather than the ones rolling
along as bait…
I could hear the river long before the first wagons of the
caravan entered the canyon and started clattering over the bridge. I loosened Shiharr and Azzad keeping my eyes on the ears of the drafters. Most of the trip
their ears had flapped disinterestedly but now they were perked—flicking this
way and that toward the canyon walls. I looked up at the rock walls towering
above me and thought I could pick out the glinting of weapons.
My wagon was almost to the bridge when the shouting
started. The caravan ground to a halt and I stood to look ahead. I could see
boulders blocking the road and figures carrying swords climbing over them. An
arrow whistled past my ear and I ducked down into my covered wagon. The
soldiers inside gripped their weapons and waited for my word to charge. I
thought several unkind things about archers before leaping out of the wagon and
ducking down the side to get a view of the action. The head and tail of the
caravan were being attacked. I could see 4 or 5 archers perched on the canyon
walls cherry picking. They would be disastrous to us if left there. Another
arrow whizzed too close and I darted under the wagon. I banged my fist on the
wagon floor. “Devn! From the front! Archers on the cliffs at two, four and six.
Fix it!”
We had one sharpshooter in Quill’s brigade. Devn heard my
yell and poked his nose out the front of the wagon. I rolled toward the back
and popped to my feet hoping to distract fire long enough for Devn to act.
Arrows flew as I ran down the line of the caravan. I zigged zagged and varied
my pace to keep the nasty darts on their toes rather than my person. Reaching
the conflict at the back of the caravan Shiharr
and Azzad licked into the fight.
Slash. Parry. Strike. Duck. Spin. Dive. Strike. Block.
A tremendous splintering splash broke my concentration. I
whirled to look back at the caravan. One of the wagons had been tipped over and
a massive vat of syrupy liquid now spread over the road, carrying bits of
shattered wagon with it. Confused, I kept fighting. But another wagon in the
middle of the caravan tipped and burst asunder unleashing another vat of golden
syrup. At the third wagon’s demise an unearthly shrieking began in the skies.
Everyone paused to look up and see a column of huge birds descended in swirling
formation. We weren’t allowed a moment to gawk because more brigands appeared
out of the rocks and charged with bloodcurdling shrieks of their own. They
drove forward with fury. Our mercenaries and the marshals who had come with us
fell back. It occurred to me that there was no way this was normal treatment
for a caravan heist. Had they really planned to massacre a second caravan?
Two brigands occupied Shiharr
and Azzad driving me back several
steps before I was able to spin free, climb a wagon and leap upon them. We all
three tumbled to the ground; I rolled to my feet and pounced. One dagger each
then I stood and took a step back. My heel stuck in something thick and wet and
I recoiled. I noticed for the first time a sweet sticky smell stronger than
battle and blood. Terror jolted through me. Peach jam.
Copyright 2012: The Legend of Zare Caspian is an original story by Abigail Cossette for The Raven's Landing. If you enjoy the story, please share and link back! Please don't copy it. Contact me if you would like to publish a portion of it in any way, shape or form.
Dun-dun-dun! Can't wait to find out what happens... (and I'll never think of peaches the same again...)
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