[Royal Guard] An Occurrence at the Sarla Crossing (Banner SL)

[JD]

    Two covered wagons were crossing the Sarla Brook on their way to Parmi.
    The first wagon was pulled by a fine black stallion and a less fine roan
mare, quite an unusual team. The fellow holding the reigns was thickset and
middle-aged with a jowly, puppyish face shaded by an farmer's oversized
straw hat. He was singing 'Like Twin Sapphires Were Her Eyes' in a pleasant
baritone above the creaking and clattering of the wagon. Sitting beside him
was a short, wiry man of similar age with close-cropped grey hair and
baleful grey eyes. He accompanied his friend on a fiddle, which he played
quite well. The second wagon was pulled by a pair of high-stepping Kahlahran
bay mares, beautiful animals both and even more unsuited to team work than
the horses pulling the first wagon. The driver of the second wagon was a big
man, but his age and appearance were impossible to discern because he wore
his dusty felt hat pulled low over his eyes and hung his head as though he
were asleep.
    The wagons made the crossing without any real difficulty, for the water
was shallow and slow. All the drivers had to do was take their time and not
hurry thet teams over the loose, slimy rocks of the creek bed. It was no
colossal task. The singing and fiddling from the first carriage continued
unabated until both wagons were safely on the northern side of the brrok,
where they were accosted by two bandits. They stepped into the road twenty
yards ahead of the first wagon and drew swords. They wore shabby brown
cloaks and had thick beards.
    "You there! Stop where you are!" shouted the first bandit.
    "Not a step closer or you're sport for our archers!" called the second.
    The wagons stopped where they were. The singing and fiddling stopped
too.
    "Eh? Who's that up there? Some boys from the Elgar by the sound of their
voices!" the driver of the first wagon shouted back, raising his puppyish to
squint at the bandits. "Some boys from the Elgar who have taken me for a
fool! I seee no archers!"
    "Aye, a fool from the Sresar Vale by the sound of your voice and blind
to boot!" replied the first bandit. "Look ahead and left, old man. In the
stand of oak trees!"
    "I see nothing!"
    The bandits began to walk towards the wagons, stopped when they were
close enough to be heard without having to shout.
    "Ask your fiddler and second driver, old man. Surely their eyes are
better than yours," said the second bandit.
    "My fiddler is mute and dumb as a gourd. Aren't you, Perl?"
    Perl looked uncomprehendingly between the first driver and the bandits.
    "And my second driver--"
    "--can see them just fine, Abraxas," said the driver of the second wagon
without raising his head. "Forward and left of you in that stand of oaks.
About forty yards away. They've bent bows and are pointing right at us. If
you can't see them, take me at my word, they're there. So let's stop foxing
around and see what these gentlemen want."
    Abraxas squinted at the stand of oaks for a long moment. "Alright,
Branth, settle yourself. I think I see them."
    "Well, thank *Aith for that," said the first bandit, pointing his sword
at Abraxas. "Drop the reins and get down slowly. Make a wrong move and the
archers will skewer you if I don't. What's in the back?"
    "Casks of wine from the Sresar Vale," said Abraxas as he climbed down
from the buckboard, his hands in the air. "I am a wine merchant. Perl is my
brother and Branth is my cousin. Our family is not without means. They would
pay a generous ransom for our safe return."
    "That's good to know, old man," said the first bandit. "Now have your
brother come down to and stand beside you with his hands in air."
    Abraxas mimed to Perl, who seemed to understand. He climbed down from
the buckboard, put his hands in the air, and moved to stand beside Abraxas.
    "Very good. Now, to the back of the wagon with you both."
    "And you just stay were you are," the second bandit said to Branth.
    Abraxas and Perl walked to the back of the wagon. The bandits trailed a
short distance behind them
    "Step aside."
    They stood to one side, their hands still in the air.
    "Well, lets see what we've got, eh?" said the first bandit, grinning to
his partner as he sheathed his sword, then pushed aside the canvas flaps at
the back of the wagon.
    Things began to happen very quickly.
    There were no casks of wine in the back of the wagon, but there were
five men. Two of them--those closest to the back of the wagon--had crossbows
and the rest had bows. The crossbows fired first. No sooner had the first
bandit thrown aside the canvas flaps than he was laying on his back, a bolt
in his belly. Seeing this happen, the second bandit turned to flee, but was
tumbled to the ground when the second bolt caught him in the spine.
    As this happened, Branth leapt from the buckboard of the second wagon,
taking a handful of canvas with him, and uncovering the second wagon. In
back were two men with crossbows and four more with bows. As a result of
Abraxas and Branth's exchange with the bandits, they knew where to aim. It
took them only a moment to locate the bandits in the stand of oaks, bend
bows and loose their arrows, but not before the bandits could loose theirs
and to considerable effect; two of their four arrows found their marks. The
first took Perl in the side as he hauled the canvas top from the first
wagon. He crumpled to the ground with a sllue of profanity, no more a deaf
mute than Abraxas was a wine merchant. The second arrow caught Abraxas in
the left buttock, knocking him to the ground a moment after he could deliver
a savage kick to the first bandit's temple.
    "Gerd, see to Perl first!" he shouted, turning the unconscious bandit on
his side and getting behind him, for there was no cover he could get to
without exposing himself to more bowfire. "His wound is serious!"
    Sheltering on the lee side of the second wagon, a crossbow in his hands,
Branth looked left then right. After they had loosed their first arrows, the
men in the back of the wagons had leapt to the ground. Now they sheltered
behind the wagons, knocked arrows and waited for the order to advance, which
Branth gave them a moment later: a brisk wave of his hand in the direction
of the stand of oaks. The advance was not so fast as it was orderly. Two
bowmen behind either wagon stood and loosed their arrows at the bandits,
covering the other men as they moved out the wagons and forward towards the
stand of oaks.
    Though they weren't numerate, the four bandits sheltering behind the
oaks knew they were outnumbered and that the longer they tried to hold their
position, the greater chance they would be overrun and killed. Killed, not
captured; the men in the back of the wagons had shot their fellows without
warning--without even the slightest hesitation. Equally unsettling was that
the band was well-equipped (all except the drivers wore leather armor and
carried short swords in addition to their bows and crossbows) and organized.
They liked nothing about the band's methodical advance and the gradually
increasing accuracy of their bolts and arrows was getting to be a real
problem. Quite prudently, they decided to flee, and in separate directions
to foil their attackers from a successful pursuit. Falling back, they
disappeared into thicker foliage before their attackers had reached the
stand of oaks.
    "No further. We don't know the ground through that brush," Branth said,
loud enough to be heard by the other men, halting a short distance from
where the bandits had been standing. "They'd pick us off one by one. Fall
back."
    The men fell back, returned to the wagons. Abraxas was upright, the
arrow still sticking out of his backside. One of the bowmen, Gerd, was
hunched over Perl, examining the arrow protruding from his side.
    "Alright," said Abraxas, prodding one of the two unconscious bandits
with the toe of his boot. "Shackle them and chuck them in one wagon. Fold up
that canvas and make a bed for Perl in the other. Brother Branth, take a
horse from second team ride ahead to Parmi and make sure it hasn't been
taken. Be back in an hour. If you're not, we're turning tail and going back
to Drache. Brother Gerd, when you've done all you can for Perl, help me
remove this stick from my arse. The rest of you reload, look sharp, and pay
to Menxvan we'll see Parmi before dusk."


--JD