*
All four of the travelers crouched down behind the same snow bank that Ceorn had been behind not ten minutes before. During that time though, it appeared that the crisis had passed.
There were scorched remains of what seemed to have been wagons. As it was only one wagon remained intact. There were bodies sprawled across the clearing, some brutally mutilated. They didn't appear to have been soldiers in any way. Just families that were part of a caravan.
Tasha's hand clenched the hilt of her short sword tightly. Her knuckles had turned white and her face was set in a grim mask as she counted the bodies.
"Where are the people who did this, Ceorn?" asked Hal. Both of his hands were clasped fiercely about the haft of his axe. The thick muscles in his arms were continually flexing and relaxing.
"I'm not sure. They were here just a moment ago." Ceorn scanned the field anxiously for several seconds, his clear yellow eyes taking in everything. Suddenly, he snapped up his arm and pointed. "There's one o' the bastards!"
Tasha followed the direction of Ceorn's finger. He was pointing to the trees on the other side of the clearing. Several men strode out from the brush. There was nothing exceptionally remarkable about said men, save that they were all dressed in poor clothing. Ragged cloaks and re-stitched shirts and pants. Squinting slightly, Tasha was able to discern that they were all wearing a black arm band around the biceps of their left arms.
Garn began to curse under his breath. The others looked at him anxiously. He waved his hand in the direction of the highwaymen. "It figures," he muttered. "We go days on the road without seeing a single solitary person. Then, when we finally come across some, they've been attacked by the Sunraiders."
Ceorn growled in his throat while Tasha gasped in alarm. Hal however got a rather confused look on his face. He turned to the mage and voiced the source of his befuddlement. "The Sunraiders?"
Garn motioned to the men again. "See the black arm bands?" Hal nodded. "We're too far away from them to discern the emblem of the sun that's inscribed on each one of them. But it's there all the same. That's the symbol of the Sunraiders."
"Ye’ see, Hal," Ceorn elaborated. "The Sunraiders are a large sort of guild of thieves, robbers and murderers. They have a post in every town, city and port." The kelt spat cruelly off to the side. "I hate th' Sunraiders. They're a group of cowardly bastards who haven’t got the nerve to fight on their own. Always preying on weak and vulnerable."
"That's all well and good," Garn broke in calmly. "But what does all of this have to do with us, Lochlaven? It seems to me that this fight is over. There doesn't appear to be anything that we can do here. Or any reason why we should."
Hal glared down at the mage. "You're trying to tell me that those men don't deserve to be beaten for this atroc... atrosh... this deed?"
Garn shook his head. "I'm not saying that at all, Hal. If there were still some people alive for us to save, I would at least see a point to running in there and rescuing them. But as it stands... what can we gain from attacking except risking our lives?"
Ceorn cut in. "But when y'all saved m'life, ye' could'a been killed 'ere too."
"That was different Ceorn," said Tasha ruefully. "Your life was at stake, or at least we thought it was. This time, as much as I hate to admit it, there might not be anyone left for us to defend."
"Milady, you don't think we should just leave?" Hal's voice displayed his horror at the idea. Tasha winced in sympathy for the big man's feelings.
Tasha reached over and laid a hand on Hal's shoulder. "I don't like the idea either, Hal. But this isn't any of our business. The last thing that we need is to have the Sunraiders dogging our trail every step of the way to Southmoor. I'm sorry." She gave Hal's shoulder a squeeze before removing her hand.
Hal riveted his gaze to the scene before them, not trusting himself to speak. Ceorn cast a look at the big man and grinned dangerously. "Are ye' thinkin' what I think yer' thinkin, Hal?"
The big man nodded. "I think so."
Garn spoke out, alarm set firmly in his eyes. "Hold it you two! Didn't you hear what we just said. We cannot afford to attack these men without a better reason. This battle is over. It would be risking our lives for nothing!"
Hal cast a sideways glance at the frail mage. "No one asked you to come along, Garn." Ceorn laughed harshly then, cracking his knuckles.
"That's enough you two," Tasha broke in. Her face was set grimly. "Ceorn, I have no hold over you, so if you want to dive in there and risk your life. That's up to you." She turned her gaze towards Hal then. The big man found himself almost forced to meet her eyes. "But you Hal are a different matter."
"How so milady?"
Tasha leaned closer to the big man, locking her gaze with his. "For years now you've claimed to be my bodyguard, consequently placing you under my command, right?" Horrified, Hal saw where Tasha was going with this and nodded. "Now, I didn't save your life at sea just to let you get yourself killed in a hopeless battle. So I forbid you from attacking those men. You hear me? I forbid you." She watched with dismay as a look of dejection slid across Hal's face. "Is that understood?"
Hal desperately tried to rally back. "But... "
"Is that understood?"
The big man lowered his head and clutched the haft of his axe so fiercely that Tasha feared it might shatter. "Yes, milady," he mumbled so quietly that she almost failed to hear him.
There was silence amongst the travelers for long moments. Tasha deeply regretted having to do that to Hal. She wanted to destroy those men herself, wanted it so badly that she almost surprised herself. But she knew, intellectually, that she could not. Not like this.
It was neither the time nor the place.
Seeing that no one had any intention of moving, Garn slowly began to rise to his feet. "Well, if that's decided, we should head back to... "
Ceorn cut him off and pointed to the clearing. "What's that?"
All four looked to where the Sunraiders were gathered. Three of them were in the process of hanging a colorfully garbed individual by his ankles in the nearest highoak tree. The others were laughing raucously and were cruelly taking pot-shots at the poor individual. Many of the coarse voices and their insults sailed through the intervening space to the ears of the travelers.
At that point several men strode out of the sole remaining wagon. All three of them readjusting the straps on their breeches and belts. They too were laughing raucously. Three new men scrambled up into the wagon, laughing eagerly. After just a few minutes in the wagon all four could faintly hear muffled, high pitched screams of agony and despair.
Ceorn's face went livid. He began to curse profoundly under his breath. It took him almost a full minute for him to repeat himself. Garnthalisbain was thunderstruck, his lower jaw was dangling somewhere down by his knees and his eyes seemed to want to pop out of their sockets.
Tasha was horrified at what she saw. She gripped her sword's hilt until her fingers hurt. She ran her other hand through her hair anxiously and noted that it was trembling with anger.
Strangely enough, Hal was the one who seemed the most calm. But one look in his eyes, as he slowly turned his to look at Tasha, displayed the extreme and unspeakable rage that bubbled just beneath the surface of his placid exterior. "Milady," he asked softly in a voice that was just tense with emotion. "Now may I attack them?"
Both Garn and Ceorn turned to regard Tasha's face at that moment. They saw the way that she was chewing on her lower lip in concentration and the way her clear amber eyes were blazing.
"Yes, Hal," she said, speaking just as calmly as he did. "You may attack them now."