There was a small group of men clustered on the side of a hill, several dozen yards off the road, all lying flat on their bellies, staring over the crest. They wore no common uniform to identify a lord that they might serve, but they were clearly warriors. They numbered four, and they were spying on a larger group of seven camped out around the entrance to a mining shaft. It had been years since the last scrap of iron had been torn from the shaft’s depths, and travel to and from had essentially been wiped out.
Except, of course, since the last winter. With the quality of the roads decreasing, a local group of brigands needed a new place to shelter and had chosen a perfect location in this abandoned mineshaft. Far away enough from the nearest village or settlement that accidental visitors during the cold months were all but impossible, and the flat landscape allowed their lookouts to see anyone that approached from a good distance away. In fact, the nearest source of cover that attackers could use to be out of sight was the hill that the men were using.
“Not a bad spot all said,” One of the men said, twisting slightly to stare at their leader. “What do you think, Eric?”
“I think that the defenses are lacking,” Eric replied without taking his eyes off the entrance to the mine. “That’s far more important to us than its location.”
The first man who’d spoken, Johan, offered a slight shrug. It had been an idle comment he made to break the silence, nothing more. Some could argue that it hadn’t even been worth bringing up, but he’d still done so because he was bored. It certainly wasn’t important enough of a comment to continue discussing it. He settled back on his stomach to watch in silence, thinking, but not saying, that Eric was being a bit uptight.
Max, an old friend of theirs and the best archer they’d yet known, grinned to himself. It was nice to be back with the old company, engaging in friendly banter. For the past two years, he’d been a mercenary in the Royal Guard, where there was much strict protocol and very little easy humor. He’d accepted instantly when Eric had offered to buy out his contract and re-hire him into the mercenary outfit he led. Max had thought he’d wanted to stick with the Royal Family, but no amount of money and easy life off-duty could make up for the near-lethal boredom.
“You know,” he said, unable to resist adding to the banter that had been born, “They probably don’t have much in the way of defense because they’re so far away from civilization.”
Johan nodded at once as if that was the point he’d been trying to make originally. Of course, he hadn’t, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up on. Even Eric wasn’t fooled by the ploy, but he did let out a soft snort of derision. “Don’t act wise, Johan. It doesn’t suit you.”
“If you say so,” Johan replied smoothly. He slithered several feet away from the ledge so he could rise to a crouched position and dug into his pack. “The usual entrance, I presume?”
Eric nodded but said nothing. This was a tactic that all of them were more than familiar with by now. Not that Johan expected a reply. He found what he was looking for, a small vial of bright green liquid. He threw it to the fourth member, who gave a jump of start and caught it, swearing a little more loudly than was wise in their current situation.
“Careful there, Jerik,” Johan said belatedly. “If you drop that, we’re all gonna have an expensive healing bill.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t throw it like it’s a piece of cheese,” Jerik snarled back. He handled the flask gingerly as he loaded it into his sling. “Not sure why I’m with such a dangerous group.”
But he did have his reason, of course. Not a reason he’d shared with the others, mind. With the sling loaded, he gathered his legs under him. He didn’t break the line of the hilltop, but he could rise in a moment and cast. “Ready when you are, boss.”
As ever, there was a dry note of sarcasm in the word boss, but Eric paid him no mind. He was preparing himself. He knew he’d bear the brunt of the assault until Max could get in effective range. And by the time that happened, he had to be at the entrance. He took a deep breath, held it for several seconds until he could feel his lungs starting to complain, then forced it out in one quick burst. Before it ended, he was already up.
“Or you could just do that!” Jerik said loudly. He shot to his feet at once and drew his arm back, the sling extended. Then he threw the arm forward, channeling all the force of his body and stomping his leg into the cast, sending the flask zipping through the air. The brigands standing guard at the entrance to the mine had no chance to see it flying towards them, as their attention was distracted by the flurry of movement at the hill in the near distance and the figure running alone, his path and intent all too obvious.
“The fool!” One of them shouted. He shot to attention and lifted his bow, even as the others moved to react to the impending attack as well. Two men ducked inside to alert the rest of the gang, and three others lifted their bows to match, pulling back arrows. With a series of twangs, four arrows were released into the air, each soaring to intercept the lone figure rushing towards them.
Eric sensed, rather than saw, the arrows. They were half-decent shots to be able to pinpoint the exact spot in which he and the arrows would collide. Even at a glance, as the arrows came within range to be properly visible, he could tell that at least two of them would hit. Maybe three. The fourth would sail wide of him. With a sinister hiss of metal sliding against leather that was barely audible over the sound of his running feet, he drew one of his two swords. Using the accuracy gained from years of practice, he swatted the first of the two arrows out of the air before it could touch him.
The second arrow was, it seemed, destined just barely to miss him. It flew two feet to the left of his body. The third never reached him, for, at that exact moment, Hunter appeared, his white fur temporarily filling Eric’s vision. The arrow would shatter harmlessly against his fur, of course. Then the wolf was away, using the shred of kinetic energy it had absorbed to charge straight at the group facing it. They had no time to draw another arrow, let alone shoot before it reached them.
-
“Boss! Boss! We’re under attack!”
Albric Dorman, the leader of the brigand gang, glanced up from the task of coin counting he’d been taking part in. The scowl, so well known to his men, was already present on his face. He shot to his feet a second later, the movement violent enough to disturb the table. It crashed to the table, sending the small pile of coins rolling in every direction across the floor. He cursed. It would take forever to round them up, and the thought didn’t improve his mood.
“What are you talking about, you bumpkin fool?” He snarled. “Attack? Who’s attacking us?”
“I-,” The underling hesitated, realizing that he didn’t know. It only just occurred to him that he should have confirmed some kind of identity before rushing inside. Now he knew why his companion had stopped just inside the hideout, letting him be the messenger. “I don’t know, boss. We just know there are two..”
He faltered again as he caught sight of his leader’s face. Albric’s eyes sparked with rage. It filled his words as he yelled at the man. “Two? TWO? You’re panicking over two men?”
The bandit withered before him, too nervous to say anything. Not that Albric gave him a chance. “Get back out there, you yellow-bellied coward! It’s only two men! Go and kill them!”
The bandit was quick to obey, at least at the moment. Anything that would take him out of Albric’s line of sight was welcome to him. Whether or not he’d actually go outside to fight, they never found out. For at that exact moment, another bandit underling showed at the entrance. He was sporting a nasty cut on his right arm, and his face was pale with fright. Before he could even locate Albric, he was already shouting.
“Issho-Ni!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Issho-Ni is attacking!”
Albric felt a thrill of fear run down his spine at the name. The elite force of warriors that served Shigeru Tokugawa. Paragons of peace to the public, but to criminals like himself, who lived off the misfortune of others, it was a sound of fear. At once, he gave up any idea of fighting. Still, he couldn’t let his men see that the was afraid.
“Get ready to kill them!” He barked, drawing his sword to amplify his point. “Kill any stranger that comes in here! They made a mistake attacking us with only two, and they’ll pay for it!”
“Yes, boss!” The reply resounded around the room, and the sound of more than ten swords being drawn followed. But the man, who had been one of the archers to fire, still wasn’t finished with his point.
“Boss,” he said weakly. “We cannot beat him. It’s that welp, Breeden.”
The underlying might have known who that was, but the name escaped Albric. Still, he knew enough of the bandit’s own spine to know that if he was nervous, it wasn’t for no reason. But it was a moot point. They’d been found, and they had to fight.
“I don’t care if it’s the damn commander of the army!” He shouted back, drowning out the few whispers of recognition that had greeted that announcement. “We’re found, and we’ll kill him!”
“That would be an interesting feat,” said a voice. It came from directly behind him.
Albric spun on the spot, sword raised to attack. Thinking back on it later, he couldn’t exactly remember the boy moving at all. All he could remember was that an iron grip had seized his sword hand, applying pressure to the wrist and wrenching it back. With a cry of pain, he was forced to release the sword, sending it clattering to the floor. Then he noticed. The first bandit, the one that had reported the attack but not known any name, was gone. It had been the whelp all along!
Eric moved in a flurry, kicking away the first of the startled bandits that had reacted to his presence. He caught the man high in the chest as he was running forward, and his legs flailed impotently, the rest of him slamming painfully onto the stone floor of the mine. Then Hunter barreled into three more, knocking them prone. They were quite content to stay there, any desire to fight washed away by the massive fangs the beast bared at them.
“The rest of you,” he said, his voice even and firm. “Drop your weapons. You’re going to face the Queen’s justice.”
They didn’t bother refusing the order. Swords, knives, and clubs rained down onto the mine’s floor, and they backed away, hands raised in surrender. That was the signal for Johan and Jerik, who had entered unannounced, to begin binding their hands behind their backs.
“Just kill me,” Albric said, clutching his wrist. “There’s no point in torturing us. We won’t tell you dogs of the Empire anything.”
“Fortunately for you,” Eric said, wiping his sword on a cloth, “we got this bounty from Issho-Ni. Since you’ve surrendered, you’ll be protected.”
And so saying, Albric felt his hands grabbed by one of the whelps cohorts, forced behind his back, and bound tightly with leather cords. Eric didn’t give the man another moment of his attention, directing his next words at Johan. “Are the guards notified?”
Johan nodded. “They’ll be here any minute to collect ‘em.”
“Good enough,” he said. “Keep an eye on them. I’m going to get some air. This place stinks.”
