They had rounded a bend in the road and were now at a small crest before a long downhill run into a shallow dell. Trees now hugged the side of the road and the late afternoon shadows made the way look menacing.
“What is it?” asked Tad, standing up so he could look over Caleb’s shoulder.
“Thought I saw something in the tree line up at the top of that rise,” he said, indicating the top of the road where it rose up on the other side of the vale.
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Raymond E. Feist
Zane stood up next to his foster brother and put his hands over his eyes.
“Lower your hand, Zane,” said Caleb. “We don’t want them seeing we know they’re there.”
“Who?” asked Tad.
“Whoever it is who is waiting for us.”
“What are we going to do?” whispered Zane.
Dryly, Caleb said, “I don’t think they can hear us.”
“What if we just wait here?” asked Tad.
Urging the horses forward, Caleb said, “They’d just come here.”
Zane sounded worried. “Why don’t we turn around?”
“Because then they would be certain we have something of value we’re hiding.” The horses picked up speed heading downhill, and Caleb said, “Listen carefully. I’m a teamster and you’re my helpers.
We delivered a load of trade goods in Stardock from a trading concern called Mijes and Zagon.”
“Mijes and Zagon,” repeated Tad.
“The goods were paid for in advance and we are returning our wagon to our employers in Yadom.”
“Yadom,” echoed Zane.
“Why the story?”
“Because if they think we’re hiding gold on us, they’ll kill us before they look for it. If we’re just teamsters, they’ll maybe let us walk to Yar - rin.”
“Walk?”
“They’ll take the wagon and horses, and anything else they think is worthwhile.”
“You’re going to let them?”
Caleb said, “All I have to lose is my sword, and I can buy another.” The wagon reached the bottom of the dell, the road disappearing under a shallow wide rill strewn with rocks that caused the wagon to bounce the boys more than usual.
As they started to climb upward to the next ridge, Zane said,
“What if they don’t believe you?”
“Then I’ll shout ‘run,’ and you two take off into the woods. As fast as you can, work your way back down into the dell behind us—5 6
Flight of the Nighthawks
you’ll never elude them if you’re trying to run uphill. When you get to the bottom, follow the creek to the south, then in the morning you’ll find a game trail a mile south coming out of the foothills. It will lead back to this road about five miles closer to the village of Yar- rin.
Go there and find a man named McGrudder at the sign of the Sleeping Rooster. Tell him what happened and do as he says.” Tad started to ask a question, but Caleb said, “Now, silence. Do not say anything.
I will do the talking.”
As they mounted the rise Caleb slowed the wagon, and at the crest, halted the horses. The sun had set over the ridge behind Caleb and the boys, turning the forest ahead into a dark tunnel as shadows quickly deepened. Caleb waited. After a moment, a man emerged from behind a tree. “Good day, traveler,” he said with a smile devoid of any hint of warmth. He spoke Keshian with a Kingdom accent.
He was a stocky man in dirty clothing, a mixture of buckskin pants, a once richly brocaded shirt, a heavy faded blue sash around his waist, and a sleeveless overjacket of black leather. His hair was hidden under a red bandanna and two large golden earrings were visible. He wore a long sword at his right hip and a pair of daggers on the left. His boots were frayed and down at the heel. When he smiled, the boys could see his two upper front teeth were missing. “Late for travel, isn’t it?”
Caleb’s voice was calm. “Just decided to push on a bit. There’s a clearing about a mile up the road that’s a nice campsite, near water.”
“You’ve been over this road before?”
Caleb nodded. “Many times. It’s why my employer hired me for this run. What can I do for you, stranger?”
The man smiled then said, “That’s the question, isn’t it? What can you do for me?”
Caleb sighed, as if he had been through this before. “We’re traveling empty. My apprentices and me just ran some trade goods into Stardock, prepaid, so we’re not carrying any gold. I’ve got a purse with two silvers and a few coppers in it, and the rest is the clothes on my back.”
Other men began to appear from the trees, and the leader of the bandits said, “Boy,” pointing at Zane, “where’d you get your load?”
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“Yadom,” Zane answered quietly as he watched four others, one armed with a crossbow, surround the wagon. “At Mijes and Zagon’s . . .” He was about to say “shop,” but realized Caleb hadn’t informed him just what sort of business that was, freight company, supplier, or merchant. He just let his words fall off as if he was frightened out of his wits, which he was.
Tad’s hand closed on Zane’s wrist, and Zane understood what it meant: be ready to jump and run. Tad glanced slightly behind him, and Zane recognized the bandits had left the rear of the wagon unguarded.
Caleb looked around and said, “Look, there are five of you and I’m not inclined to fight over this wagon. You know this rig isn’t worth much, so I’ll not risk these boys and myself to keep it. I’m getting paid when I get back, and Mijes and Zagon can afford to buy a new one. So, how about I just get down and walk away?”
“How do we know you’re not hiding gold on you,” said the bandit leader, losing his smile. “Maybe you have it tucked in a belt or under your tunic?”
Caleb stood, showing he was wearing only his tunic, trousers, boots, and hat. His sword rested on the seat next to him. “No gold belt, no pouch. Only spare clothes in the chest. You can search the wagon, but let me and the boys go.”
“There’s something about you I don’t like,” said the bandit, pulling his sword. “You’re no more a teamster than I am. Mercenary, maybe. No one hires a mercenary to drive a wagon unless there’s something worth killing over.” He saw the small chest tucked under the wagon’s seat. “Maybe you have something valuable in that chest, huh?” He laughed and glanced first right, then left at his companions. “Besides, I have no doubt should the situation arrive that you’d be happy to describe us in great detail to the local constables. That would make it hard to spend our booty!” He drew his sword with his left hand and said, “Kill them!”
Caleb shouted, “Run!” as he grabbed his sword, leapt to the right, putting the wagon between himself and three of the men, facing the two on his right fi rst.
Without hesitation, Tad and Zane were off as instructed, stum-5 8
Flight of the Nighthawks
bling and barely keeping control of themselves as they hit the ground and ran downhill, dodging trees and rocks.
Behind them came the sounds of struggle, and closer, the sound of boots on the dirt as at least one of the bandits chased after them.
Tad and Zane both possessed the reckless certainty of boys their age, that somehow they could navigate this rapidly darkening maze of trees and brush. Zane glanced backward, almost losing his footing as he caught a glimpse of the man pursuing, and Tad stumbled.
They both crashed through thick underbrush and then came to a long stone ledge supporting a game trail that ran along the side of the hill. They hurried down the trail for a dozen yards, the downward slope on their right, then found a depression from runoff heading downward. Remembering Caleb’s instructions on reaching the creek, they started down the hill again, hoping the trees hid them from view long enough to elude their pursuers.
Tad grabbed Zane’s arm and pointed to his right. Zane didn’t hesitate and both boys ran down what appeared to be another slight wash, a depression in the ground between the boles carved by
years of rainwater.
The light was falling fast, but both boys knew they couldn’t successfully hide for at least another half hour. They almost ran off a ledge and barely avoided a nasty fall by grabbing a tree trunk. Tad motioned and Zane followed as they hurried along the lip of a deeper wash that cut downward at an angle to the floor of the dell.
The thick underbrush slowed the boys. They could hear the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind them. Zane stopped at the base of a tree and glanced upward. He fashioned a stirrup with his hands and motioned for Tad to climb. Tad stepped into his friend’s hands and was boosted up to a branch four feet above their heads.
Zane glanced around and saw a fallen tree branch roughly the size of his forearm that would serve as a club, so he picked it up and tossed it up to Tad.
Tad deftly caught it with one hand, then reached down with the other. Zane leapt, catching his friend’s outstretched forearm, and clambered up to rest upon the heavy branch with him. Both boys tried to calm their breathing, for they were gasping for breath. The two 5 9
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spread out, lying sideways head to head, so that their feet wouldn’t dangle down in plain sight.
A moment later two men appeared, running quickly through the woods. They stopped directly below the two silent boys. “Damn!”
said the first bandit, a tall, rangy man with dirty blond hair that hung limply to his collar. “Where’d they go?”
“Gone to ground, I’ll wager,” said the other, a broad - shouldered man with a heavy black beard. “Bloody brush hides the tracks. You go that way”—he pointed to a rough path along the edge of the rill that ran through the center of the dell—“and I’ll work my way up.
Let’s see if I can flush ’em back to you.”
They moved off and the boys waited. Tad put his finger to his lips. His caution turned out providential, as a few minutes later the tall blond bandit returned down the path. Zane quietly took the club from Tad’s hands and waited as the man hurried through the quickly darkening woodlands; he took no pains to hide his whereabouts.
Muttering curses to himself, he was oblivious to the sudden movement above, as Zane twisted so his hips lay across the branch and swung down hard, holding the wooden club in both hands. The man walked right into the blow, a loud, meaty crack that made Tad wince at the sound. It shattered the bandit’s nose and knocked him backward as his feet went out from under him.
The impact also had the effect of causing Zane to pitch forward and tumble to the ground on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. Tad leapt down from the tree and knelt next to the groggy dark - haired boy. “You all right?” whispered Tad.
“I’ll live,” he said, standing on wobbly legs. “How’s he doing?”
Both boys turned their attention to the fallen bandit. Kneeling next to him, Tad said, “I think you killed him.”
The man’s face was awash with blood from a pulped nose and a gash across his forehead. Zane leaned down and touched the man’s chest. The man’s eyes suddenly opened and he reached out, grabbing Zane’s tunic. The boy yelped in fear and pulled away as the man tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes with his other hand. Half - blind, the bandit said something incoherent but his murderous intent was obvious.
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Flight of the Nighthawks
Tad picked up the branch Zane had used as a club and with all his strength he hit the man in the back of the head, the blow providing another nasty - sounding crack. The bandit released his hold on Zane and pitched over sideways. The man lay groaning, and Tad hit him again, this time causing the man’s body to jerk and then lie still.
Zane had scuttled backward when released and now he rose and came to stand next to Tad. After a moment, he whispered, “He’s not breathing.”
“I hope he’s not,” said Tad.
“You killed him,” said Zane softly, in mixed admiration and shock.
“He would have killed us,” was Tad’s reply.
“Hey!”
Both boys turned as one at the sound from below, as the second man trudged back up the wash. “Did you see them?”
Zane glanced at Tad, who nodded, and yelled back in a faux deep voice, “Up here!”
Zane’s eyes grew wide, but Tad pointed upward, and put his hands together. Zane stepped into the stirrup Tad formed, and took the boost to reach the branch. “I’ll draw him here,” said Tad. “You hit him!”
Zane said, “Then give me the branch, you fool!”
Tad was just on the verge of tossing it up to Zane when the second bandit came hurrying up the gully. He was out of breath but the instant he saw Tad standing over his fallen comrade holding the makeshift bludgeon, he pointed his sword and ran toward the boy.
Tad stood rooted in terror for an instant, then at the last he ducked as the bandit tried to cut his head from his shoulders. The blade struck the tree trunk and cut deep, like an axe. The blade was wedged deep and the bandit yanked to free it. Tad thrust upward into the man’s face with the butt end of the dried branch, and the erstwhile club struck him square on the nose. “Damn!” shouted the man as he threw up his left arm, knocking aside the branch while he staggered back. Tad could see the man had some small cuts on his face and a few embedded splinters, but the blow did nothing more than annoy him.
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Tad grabbed the hilt of the man’s sword and yanked the blade free, then stood resolutely facing the bandit.
The man drew back his dagger. “If you know how to use it, y’welp, you’d best be about it, else I’ll cut you from chin to crotch for what you did to Mathias.” He stepped forward, blade ready, as a pair of feet appeared directly over his head. Zane jumped from the branch above, one foot striking the side of the man’s neck, the other landing on his shoulder. The boy’s weight drove the bandit straight to his knees, and Tad could see the wide - eyed, startled expression on his face as his head twisted impossibly to one side, and he could hear the loud crack as his neck broke.
Zane again tumbled hard to the ground and lay there uttering a groan. Tad looked downward, first at the bandit who now lay at his feet, his head bent at an unnatural angle, his vacant eyes staring up at the night sky. He then looked at Zane, who lay on his back, also wide -
eyed and motionless. Tad knelt next to his foster brother who took in a large gasp of air and softly said, “I think my back is broken.”
Tad said, “Are you serious?” with concern approaching panic in his voice.
“It hurts like it is,” said the shorter boy.
Tad stuck his thumbnail into his companion’s leg and said, “Can you feel that?”
“Ow!” said Zane, sitting up. “That hurt.”
“Your back’s not broken,” said Tad, standing and giving Zane a hand up as he did.
“How do you know?” said the ill - used boy.
“Jacob Stephenson told me that when Twomy Croom’s father broke his back from that fall in their barn, the old man couldn’t move his legs, couldn’t even feel anything below the waist.”
“That’s bad,” said Zane.
“Didn’t matter,” offered Tad. “The old man died a day later.”
“Feels like I broke it,” said Zane in a weak bid for sympathy.
“Get the other sword,” said Tad.
Zane took the one next to the first man they had killed. Tad hefted the other and the taller boy said, “We should get back to the wagon.”
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Flight of the Nighthawks
Zane said, “But Caleb said not to come back.”
Tad’s blood was up and he almost shouted, “But he may need our help!”
“You think Caleb’s all right?”
Fear and exultation mixed in equal measure as Tad said, “If we can kill two of these bastards, I’m sure Caleb was the equal of the other three.”
Zane didn’t look convinced, but he followed his foster brother.
They moved cautiously up the hillside toward the road.
It was now full night and the way was difficult as they navigated their way through the underbrush and thick boles. As they reached the verge of the road, they stopped and listened for any hint of the bandits.
The sounds of the forest at night was all they heard. A light evening breeze rustled leaves and the sound of night birds echoed from some distance away. All appeared peaceful.
They ventured onto the road and looked in both directions.
“Where’s the wagon?” whispered Tad.
Zane shrugged, the gesture lost on his companion, so he said, “I don’t know. I don’t know if this is where we were, or if we were that way”—he pointed down the road to his left—“or the other.”
Then they heard a horse’s snort and the rattle of traces coming from the left. They had climbed back to the road farther to the east than they had thought. The boys hurried along the edge of the road, ready to dart back into the trees should they encounter bandits.
In the gloom they barely saw the first body, sprawled on the far side of the road. It was the bandit who had first accosted them. Farther down the road the wagon was stationary on the other side of the road while the two horses attempted to crop whatever they could from the underbrush. Another bandit lay dead as they reached the end of the wagon.
The boys circled around and saw two figures, the last bandit, the one with the crossbow, lying dead next to the wagon’s left front wheel, and another figure slumped down beside him, back against the wheel of the wagon.
Caleb sat upright, but was unconscious, his body held in place 6 3
Raymond E. Feist
by the wagon wheel and the dead bowman’s corpse. Tad knelt next to him and said, “He’s breathing!”
Zane pulled the corpse of the last bandit aside, and Caleb fell over sideways. Tad examined him and found a deep gash in his side where a crossbow bolt had found its mark, as well as several sword cuts.
“We’ve got to do something!”
Zane said, “Strip that man’s shirt,” as he pointed to the nearest bandit. “Cut bandages.”