— 3 —
Nelson awoke sputtering, gasping and choking, cold water streaming down his face and spewing from his mouth.
"Welcome, star lord. It is time for us to have a little talk."
Nelson's head throbbed with pain. He started to raise an arm, trying to feel the wound that must be near the base of his skull, but found his arms tied securely to his sides. His legs were bound as well.
He lay on some filthy straw in a three-sided lean-to made of a few small logs covered with animal skins. He saw his horse and mule, stripped of their loads, tied to a crude hitching post nearby. There were other lean-tos, similar to his, in a rough circle around a clearing in the light woods.
About a dozen men strode around, drinking, eating from the game that roasted over a central fire, and talking. There were women and children too; how many, Nelson couldn't see, but he heard their voices.
The man standing over him was filthy, with straggly black hair and large brown eyes, but a face surprisingly gentle-looking beneath the dirt. He wore furs tied to his body with leather thongs, and beneath them Nelson saw the remains of a tunic.
The man had a wry, sarcastic expression as he studied the captive star lord.
"Come on, star lord, speak. Your wounds are light enough, compared to the ones you gave."
"Why do you call me 'star lord'?" Nelson asked.
"Let's not start with that. You'll not deceive me by playing stupid. And don't assume that I'm some simpleton. We'll waste a lot of time if you do. Waste too much, and I'll decide to kill you, like the rest of them want me to. Now, who are your kinsmen among the other star lords in Drantos?"
Nelson racked his aching brain, searching for the reasons for this line of questioning. Obviously this fellow knows something about the star lords, and the wars in the North, he thought. But kinsmen? Apparently he can't conceive of any other form of social organization. Why would he want to know about kinsmen? Ransom? That has to be it . . .
"I have no kinsmen among the star lords, but if I did, why should I reveal their names to you?"
"Hah!" The bandit laughed heartily and pulled a dirk from the tangle of furs on his body. He pressed the blade edge tight against Nelson's neck. "Because if you don't tell me, you're a dead man. Even star lords want to live, so I'm told."
"Kill me and you will all die. Do you think the star lords would let such a crime go unavenged?"
"I think you are alone, star lord, very much alone. There are no more of your kind within a day's ride."
"Nevertheless, they would know of my death and bring their star weapons to kill you."
"Perhaps. But I'd rather they'd bring gold or food to ransom you."
"The great star lords do not pay ransom to roadside bandits!" Nelson spit at the man for emphasis.
"Perhaps not. More's the pity for you. Because you, great star lord, bleed like any other man."
The blade of the dirk bit into the skin of Nelson's throat and slid across it. Then his captor lifted the blade so Nelson could see his own blood dripping from it.
"Shall I cut deeper next time? What will they give for your life?"
"They might let you keep yours," Nelson replied, hoping no fear showed in his eyes. He didn't dare tell this killer that the other star lords would pay nothing for him, that at least some of them might be seeking his life as a deserter, and the rest would probably view him as unwelcome competition.
"He says nothing. Kill him, Critos, and be done." Nelson recognized the new speaker's voice—he was one of the swordsmen in the ambush. The gruff clod was a hulking brute of a man, and to judge by his appearance and accent, not nearly as bright as Critos.
"Shut up!" Critos shouted. "I lead here, and I will decide what's to be done with him."
The burly swordsman almost flinched at the rebuke. He lowered his head, turned away, and busied himself with a leg of roasted meat.
Nelson drank in the scene and quickly analyzed the situation. He was helpless, and they had his weapons. They were bandits, and obviously pretty impoverished ones at that. That made sense: with war between Drantos and the Five Kingdoms, there would be many fewer trade caravans heading north. There were few enough in the winter anyway. These people were hungry, even though they could secure food by hunting or stealing. And they needed money for weapons; Nelson remembered that some of his attackers were armed with tree branches wielded as clubs.
This Critos is their leader, and he rules by fear, Nelson thought. But his leadership must be threatened—the burly man dared to try to tell Critos what to do.
How can I use this?
"If you don't tell me, right now, who to contact for your ransom, I'll kill you, as Doron there desires."
"If you treat me with the courtesy one leader gives another, I will answer you to your advantage. But if you continue to act as crudely as Doron, I will die and you will all be killed," Nelson answered calmly. This guy is smart; will he pick up on the hint? Will he see he can increase his own stature by treating me well?
Critos twisted his lips into a sneering smile, and Nelson saw the light of cunning gleam from the man's eyes.
"You are a bright one, aren't you, star lord?" Critos whispered so only Nelson could hear. "You bargain better than the merchants from the Sunlands."
Critos stood and wheeled about. "Doron! Bring food and warm wine to my quarters for myself and my prisoner." Doron looked at Critos, his large jaw hanging open in puzzlement. "Move, dolt!" Critos growled. Doron moved.
Critos looked back at Nelson and said loudly, "And I have your word, then, star lord, you will make no attempt to escape?"
"While we parley for my freedom and greater wealth for your people, I will make no attempt to escape," Nelson called out. "You have the word of the star lord, sworn by Yatar and Vothan!"
"Balquhor," Critos said, motioning to another of the bandits. "Remove his bonds and show him to my quarters."
The hulking Balquhor made no reply as Critos walked away slowly. He looked after Critos in puzzlement, then turned his attention to cutting the thongs that bound Nelson's arms and legs.
While Balquhor cut, Nelson thought. What can I offer him? He needs food and money. I have some money, but they've taken that already. And I've given him added prestige just to get cut loose. Now, do I try to escape, or . . .
An idea formed in Nelson's mind. Here's a small band of cutthroats, certainly used to hardship and to killing, he mused. With training, with discipline, they could be useful when I reach the Sunlands. They might even be flattered by an offer to be "taken into the service of a great star lord." But can they be trusted?
If Nelson decides to try to escape, go to section 5.
If Nelson decides to take Critos' small band into his ''service, " go to section 7.