Rogue, Shadow Dancer, Sorceress, Shadowknight, Paladin, Assassin, Druid. Armed, we are more of a threat to the troops in our vicinity than they are to us. We might even be a match for the leaders of this army, although there is no need to put that thought to the test. While the effects of the mind-reading potion last, I can guide our party around tents and skirt campfires, occasionally halting to let a wary mind subside into complacency. A crow who knows what his enemies think is uncatchable.
We are walking eastwards, away from Trolland towards the Arkine empire, the night sky distinctly lighter ahead of us. Dawn is not too far off and the birds know it; there are sufficient trees and bushes here to house a loud community of my avian brethren and they delight in finding themselves awake at the start of a new day. I delight in the same feelings. Free as the birds. Free to sing. Free to explore this wide world. Free to save my city.
Yet there is one more deed for the daring crow to accomplish before we hide in one of the gulches nearby. We need a horse for Lisandra. That, or travel at a slow rate. I do not complain, Lisandra I admire greatly. Large is her mind as well as her body, so is her concern for us all. That’s her nature as much as mine is that of a crow. Leaving Amaris to guide the others to a suitable hiding place – his Spot Hidden is 3, Belle’s only 1 – I turn back for the camp. Even animal minds are readable to my magic potion, although lacking language I gain only a nebulous impression of their thoughts, like dreams. The emotions I detect are surprisingly strong and many of the horses feel joy that the sun will soon be upon them again, warming their bodies. Since I have the Animal Friend skill (yet another skill I wish to level up for situations like this), I can urge a horse to accompany me without difficulty, especially because I have chosen a mare who is keen to leave the dust and constraints of the army herd.
I am well clear of the less-well guarded east of the camp by the time the sky has begun to rapidly change, purple spreading above me like spilled paint, and behind it waves of mauve and deep blue. Hurrying the mare along, I know I am close to where I left the party, but I cannot see them and the mind-reading potion has worn off. Where are they?
‘Crow!’ I hear Belle. ‘This way.’
Surprisingly close, where a dry stream bed lies behind a small, rocky hillock, is a gully deep enough to screen everyone. It will hide the mare too. I join the others as the sky becomes bright enough to see their smiling, welcoming faces. The paladin is especially approving.
‘Excellent work, my young rogue. Not only did you get us out of the cage, you managed to acquire some weapons too.’ Lady Horsta goes to pick up Gerard’s longsword. Our Shadowknight puts his hand out.
‘That one’s mine, as the devil said to the dead tax collector.’
‘Ahh, but my shortsword skill is only one. Really, as allies, we should plan as a group. What’s your longsword skill?’
‘One,’ Gerard answers with noticeable reluctance.
‘Mine is six. My greatsword skill is seven, but until we can purchase one doesn’t it make sense that I borrow yours? Just until we get to a town?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Before your plans go far, can you use a scimitar?’ I ask the paladin, uncovering the beautiful blade I had stolen from the large tent. By the morning light I can see there are gems in the hilt and gold in the cross guard.
‘Unfortunately not; this is a masterwork, magical even.’
‘I can use it,’ says Aarax. ‘I’m only skill one, but Wield Scimitar was a class skill when I became a druid.’ I hand the blade to him and the young man looks very pleased.
‘Well now, this, surprisingly, is the dagger that was stolen from me at the Trolland farm,’ says the assassin, picking the weapon out of a bag. ‘I’m glad to have it back. You should lend me a shortsword too. I’m a two-weapon fighter.’
‘What are your skills?’ asks Belle.
‘Four in shortsword and dagger, three in two-weapon fighting.’
Mine – and Belle’s – are just one. I shrug. The inferni can borrow my shortsword. And I keep my face as unamused as I can when I meet his eyes. We both know I stole that vicious dagger.
‘Not judging anyone,’ says the paladin with a light laugh, ‘after all, I did consider hanging you all, but if my holy symbol happens to be in these bags I’d very much appreciate it back. My Lay on Hands and powers against the undead are weaker without it.’
Why does everyone look at me? Why because I am the rascal who stole the silver lightning bolt from the paladin’s room. I know which bag it is in and throw the necklace over to Lady Horsta, who catches it and holds the symbol up to the morning light, where it twinkles as it turns back and forth. ‘Well, I never thought to have this again.’
‘What is in here?’ Lisandra has one of the bags of potion bottles, which clinks as she raises it.
‘In revenge for the Arkine general putting us in chains, I brought away items he will never see again. In that bag you’ll potions find and in the other more potions and scrolls to unwind.’
‘Crow, how does a street urchin from Crumblin become such an accomplished thief!’ Lisandra is admiring and I appreciate the enthusiasm in her voice.
‘Oh, I think Crumblin is exactly the kind of place to teach rogues their trade,’ says Belle with a smile.
‘Healing. Very useful,’ Lisandra has inhaled the scent from a bottle and must have recognised it. ‘Here, there are six… wait, five more in this bag. I suggest two each for those most likely to fight and one for myself, Aarax, and Belle.’
Aarax nods, with an expression of good will. Looking pleased and with several approving glances directed towards me, everyone takes a potion or two.
‘Now, these scrolls, let’s see. Oh! My spell book!’
Despite the effort of getting to her feet, Lisandra is beaming as she comes over and clasps me tight. ‘Crow,’ is all she says, but if ever a word was full of admiration it was that one.
Only after she releases me and settled down again can I find out what is in the scrolls, when Lisandra peels one off and starts to read aloud.
‘Do not neglect your guard; you must be intensely on your guard! Let the scholars tell the oracles to you, whether good or bad; Asa will go before you! Blah, blah, blah.’ Our sorceress drops the scroll to the ground. ‘I have sent two eunuchs of mine with six soldiers and a sealed order for the deserters… blah, blah, blah.’
The next three she doesn’t even start to read for us before discarding them. The last, however, she looks at with obvious interest. Her eyebrows arch, her mouth moves silently. She is the centre of our attention.
‘It’s a spell. And a good one. Curseblade. When I – or Gerard if he gains a few levels – cast it on a weapon, for fifteen minutes that weapon will be magical, with plus three to the wielder’s skill and the bleed effect. Every wound will keep dealing damage until staunched by a heal spell of some sort. No bandage will stop the flow.’
The inferni grunts approvingly.
‘What now?’ asks Belle, looking at me.
Lady Horsta, however, seems to think that she is in charge. ‘We just have to be patient. If I were Count Basillos I’d keep the army marching towards Callondum rather than waste time looking for escaped prisoners.’
‘I hope you’re right, but just in case, let’s keep a watch as we wait,’ I say.
‘Obviously.’ Lady Horsta folds her arms. ‘Why don’t you take first watch, Amaris, since you have the best Spot Hidden.’
I do not correct her, only find a patch of sunlight earth and stretch out. I am tired but content.
Between dreams, I keep an ear on the distant sounds of the Arkine army, the clang of metal, the cries of the herders. And I even feel the tremors in the ground as they move. It’s true then, they are leaving? I wake up and carefully – the day is bright now – creep up to the top of the gully, using Stealth to ensure I do not reveal myself to any searching soldiers. Belle is on watch and I lie beside her. Deep brown, affectionate eyes turn to mine.
‘It’s hard to see for the dust,’ she says, ‘but I think they are leaving.’
As we wait together, the marching troops do indeed grow more faint in sound and the vibrations diminish. I’m happy to wait alongside Belle as the dust settles, which it does not do until the sun is nearly overhead. As the sky above the former camp clears, it becomes evident they have indeed marched off west. There is an X-shaped construction about two metres high left behind.
‘Do you see? What can that be?’ I ask Belle.
‘An execution?’ she wonders. ‘There’s a person on it.’
I can make out the colour of the clothes. There is a red bandana I recognise. Our unfortunate jailer has been punished for our escape.