— 14 —
Nelson spun around kicking, expecting another assailant—and kicked thin air. No one was close to him!
He ran like mad for the hitching post, untied his horse, and leaped onto the animal's bare back.
"Heeyah!" he cried, kicking the horse to a gallop.
Nelson heard the shouts of the remaining bandits as he pressed his head close to the horse's neck, ducking the low-hanging branches of the trees.
"Balquhor let him get away!"
"Why didn't you stop him? You were right there!"
"Well, you were too—"
"Silence, you idiots!" The last voice was Critos'. "After him! Mount up!"
Nelson listened intently as the horse sped back to the path and then galloped south. The bandits had no organized pursuit started by the time he was out of earshot. Good, he thought. That means they'll never catch me. They may have been able to take me in an ambush, but I didn't learn to avoid the enemy in the jungles of 'Nam for nothing.
Still, best to make time while I can.
He kept the horse at a gallop until it could gallop no more, then stopped, resting the horse and listening. Nothing. If they were coming, they were far behind, and their horses would tire at a gallop as rapidly as his.
He walked the horse until it got its wind back, then mounted and rode at a brisk walk, going to a trot whenever he felt the horse could take the pace, slowing down again as he observed the animal tire.
By the time the Fire Stealer set he thought that he was no longer being followed. But why take chances? He knew the bandits would hardly have the discipline to pursue him through the cold night. He rode on until morning, stopping only when the horse could go no farther.
He stretched out to rest himself as the True Sun rose on the chilly morning. Now what? No money, he thought. No weapons, no food, no fodder. Hell. Looks like I'll have to start working for a living again.
Nelson forced himself not to sleep—Critos' band wasn't the only group of cutthroats working this territory. He rested as best he could without letting himself shut his eyes. At midday he moved on, and by early evening reached a peasant village.
The village headman was full of questions. Nelson said he was a free man from Drantos whose lands were ruined in the current war there. He sought food and shelter, and protection from the bandits. Better yet, he said, he would lead five or ten good men from the village in a raid against the bandits who had robbed him.
The headman wasn't impressed by Nelson's offer. Chasing bandits is the business of the City State that rules the village, the headman explained. No doubt the soldiers would come when a report was filed. In the meantime, Nelson could spend the night as the headman's guest, and look for work the following day. If he found none, he'd have to leave.
I'll take what I can get at this point and count myself lucky, Nelson decided. No point in pressing it. He dined that night at the headman's table, and slept for the first time in many ten-days in a real bed.
The next day Nelson discovered that life in a peasant village in winter can be boring. There was plenty of work, if you liked to work out in the cold. But most of it wasn't urgent work—a man could miss a day or two here or there and things would go on just as well. Winter was hard on the nerves, especially for the young men of the village, who longed for something to break the tedium of winter chores.
By the day's end Nelson had talked himself into a job in return for room and board, starting in three days. He'd also talked five locals into joining him on a bandit hunt, with the promise of a reward in gold if the hunt were successful. The youths agreed to keep the arrangement secret; no doubt the headman and the older villagers wouldn't approve.
The five youths with Nelson at their head rode out before dawn the next morning. With fresh horses and good planning, they reached the area near Critos' camp by the middle of the following night. Nelson led them the last ten kilometers off the path; he didn't want any wandering member of the bandit group to spot their approach. They tied off their horses a good kilometer from the camp: the boys were farmers, not trained cavalry, and whatever dreams of glory they might have would be better achieved on foot than in the saddle. Besides, their only weapons were daggers and a couple of hunting bows.
The scene near the camp was about what Nelson had expected. Obviously, some of his gold had been spent; drunken snores came from the lean-tos, and wasted scraps of food littered the area around the central fire.
Nelson considered the best plan of attack. His main concerns were to avoid casualties to his own force while getting his star weapons back. His own men were concerned about getting bandit heads; the City State paid a bounty on bandits. The village headmen frequently discouraged youths from getting themselves killed by chasing that bounty.
The problem is simple, Nelson told himself. Critos has the star weapons, and he's had time to learn how to use them. If he wakes up before the destruction is total, he could kill several if not all of my men. Solution: kill Critos first, get the weapons, and then let the kids go bounty hunting.
But that might not work, he realized. Critos isn't a complete fool. Wouldn't he have at least his own quarters guarded at night, somehow?
If Nelson chooses to lead his men into the main section of the camp, stealthily killing as many bandits as possible, go to section 26.
If Nelson chooses to hit Critos' lean-to first in hopes of killing Critos and retrieving his star weapons before dealing with the other bandits, go to section 28.