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FLTL Ch 372. The Encampment - I
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The next morning, Tesyb, Feroy and the others had left early for the encampment. The man who lived there and three wagon drivers had come along, and they all had been walking for nearly three hours already. The remaining guards and drivers, along with Hyola and the merchant Trevalo, had stayed behind at the clearing where they had camped last night. They would wait there, praying an adzee didn’t come sniffing around.
Pydaso had left at dawn with Calubo and the other guard toward Cinran, and from there he would go on to Ulriga. Tesyb had wondered for a moment what it would be like to see such a big city, but he pushed the thought aside. What would be the point if he went there? He didn’t even have a single copper to spend, and in a place that size he would probably just get lost anyway. He forced himself to focus on the task in front of him.
The narrow trail that had started from the road had disappeared into the undergrowth a long time ago. Now they were just moving in the general direction the man kept pointing out. Feroy led the group, since he had the most experience living in forests and could spot trouble before anyone else. The man from the encampment walked just behind him. The wagon drivers followed them in a loose line, and Tesyb brought up the rear. Many of them were carrying small satchels of food. The straps kept catching on low branches and twigs, making it even more annoying to walk.
The forest was as dense as Tesyb had expected. Low branches, shrubs, and tangled vines slowed them down again and again. The few machetes they had brought were a blessing though. Without them, he had no idea how they would have managed to force a path through this kind of growth.
Tesyb cut through another thin branch with a quick swipe and pushed it away from his face in annoyance. Just how far was this encampment...?
He looked towards the front. The man was pointing west again, trying to reassure Feroy that they were still going the right way, but Tesyb wasn’t convinced. How could anyone even remember a path through this forest! They were supposed to reach the place in about two hours, but they had probably been walking for twice that long, and there was still no sign of the camp. If he hadn’t known better, he might have wondered whether the man was leading them into an ambush. Did he even remember the way at all?
He was about to call ahead and ask how much farther they had to go when Feroy suddenly raised a fist. It was the signal to stop.
Tesyb halted at once and shifted the machete to his left hand, resting his right hand on the pommel of his sword. Was there danger up ahead? He hoped it wasn’t a bear or something even worse. With the limited strength of their group, they could likely handle boars or even wolves, as long as there weren’t too many. A larger predator could be a different story.
After scanning the trees and undergrowth for a while, Feroy leaned back and whispered to the wagon driver behind him. The message moved down the line. They had reached the camp, but Feroy would go ahead with the encampment man to scout it first. The others were to stay where they were.
Tesyb gave a small nod, but realized Feroy had already slipped away by then.
All that was left was to wait. He thought it might take some time, but the former mercenary returned sooner than expected and gestured for them to follow. Tesyb moved after the wagon drivers until Feroy raised his hand again and pointed ahead. Tesyb squinted through the trees and only then noticed movement in a large clearing.
The encampment finally came into view, and the sight of the run-down place reminded him of Tiranat as it had been before winter. On the left side of the clearing stood about half a dozen makeshift huts. They were nothing more than branches leaned together in a cone and tied up with vines, with smaller leafy branches filling the gaps as walls. A small fire burned in the middle of the clearing. A few gaunt women were gathered there, tending clay pots that steamed steadily, likely cooking whatever they had managed to find. On the right, a long fallen log served as a bench. Several older men sat there, watching a handful of children playing nearby. They were probably not older than 50, or they wouldn't have survived living in such a place, but time hadn't been kind to them. It rarely was.
Everyone’s clothes were worn thin, patched and mended many times over. It might be enough now that the weather was warm, but he had no idea how they had lived through winter dressed like that. The people in Tiranat hardly dressed any better, but they had the longhouse walls to protect them from the wind and coal burning in braziers to keep away the cold. These people had tangled branches and rags. Maybe... maybe not all of them had lived through the cold months after all, and what he saw now were only those who were hardy enough to survive.
Looking around, Tesyb didn't see any men of fighting age—just some teenagers. Some of the other women were sharpening short wooden sticks, probably meant as weapons, with the boys helping them out.
He counted quickly. There were just over a dozen people in the clearing. That wasn’t even half of what the man had claimed when they spoke on the road. Where were the rest of them? He swallowed, wondering if they had already gone to meet the goddess by now...
Before he could speak, Feroy gave the man beside him a firm shove. The man stumbled out of the trees and into the clearing, catching everyone there by surprise.
A short, young woman with cropped brown hair, carrying a small pot toward the fire, turned to see who had arrived. She stared at the man for a moment, dropping the pot in surprise. It shattered on the ground, and water spilled out at her feet. Her face went pale and she froze, eyes locked on him, like she had seen a ghost.
“How…? You’re still alive?” the woman breathed. Her eyes were already filled with tears as the rest of the camp hurried toward her. “Where are the others? Are they…?"
She didn’t finish. She ran to the man they had brought with them and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him so tightly he almost stumbled.
Feroy finally stepped into the clearing, with Tesyb and the wagon drivers coming in behind him. None of them had drawn their swords, but their machetes were still in their hands. Looking at the fearful faces around the fire, Tesyb belatedly realized that that might have been a mistake.
The frail older men and the other women snatched up the sticks they had dropped in surprise and moved to stand between the newcomers and the children. The teenage boys ran to pick up sharp branches, as they glared at the man whom the guards had brought with them.
“Did you bring bandits with you?” one of the older men demanded. “How could you!"
The man who had come along with them opened his mouth, trying to reply something, but a young woman turned toward the guards with a desperate look. “Please don’t do this to us…"
Even the kids had grabbed sharp branches of their own by now and stood ready to defend their families, while the older men pulled the younger children, and the girls closer behind them, forming as much of a wall as they could.
“I won’t let you take them!” one of the gray-haired men shouted. “Never again!"
An older woman leaned toward a teenage girl and whispered something quickly. The girl gave a sharp nod, then turned and sprinted into the trees on the far side of the clearing. Before Tesyb understood what she meant to do, she was already gone, swallowed by the undergrowth.
“Shit,” he muttered.
The brown-haired woman had moved back toward her people now. She glared at Feroy while lifting a jagged, half broken knife to her own throat, with some other young women following her lead. “You will not take us alive! We are never going to be slaves again—of a damned noble or you bandits. Either you turn around right now, or you’ll only find corpses here."
Tesyb opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The situation had spun out of control so fast he could barely follow it.
The man who had come with them tried to speak again, but an older woman scowled at him, still trying to shield a girl with her body. “Shut up, you traitor! Not a word from you!"
The man dropped his gaze to the ground, shoulders sagging.
Tesyb was still trying to think of something that might calm them when Feroy let his machete fall to the dirt.
“Drop it,” the ex-mercenary said quietly. “All of you."
Tesyb hesitated for a heartbeat. He wasn’t sure if this was wise in front of the enraged camp people, but he obeyed. His sword was still sheathed at his belt anyway. He lowered his machete and let it go. The wagon drivers followed his example and dropped their own blades, putting their empty hands in front where everyone could see them.
“We are not here to harm you,” Feroy began, his palms open at his sides. “We’re not bandits."
“As if we would ever believe that,” the brown-haired woman shot back, the knife still pressed to her throat. “Tell me the truth. Who sent you? Was it that bastard Zoricus? Or are you bounty hunters from Cinran out to get a few coins for turning us in? How did you even find us! We don't even live close to any road!"
She suddenly turned on the man who had come with them. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who sold us out!" She spat at the ground. "I hope you got enough coin for it! You'll certainly need it in hell!"
Tesyb realized then what these people must be. Escaped slaves. They must have fled from a noble’s lands—likely Zoricus—or from a farmhouse within his barony.
Feroy shook his head. “We’re not here to take you back to Zoricus. Or to Cinran. We just want to help you.” He tilted his head toward the man who had led them here. “He didn’t sell you out either. He only told us how to find you so we could help."
"To help us?" The brown-haired woman, who seemed to be the leader here, stared at him with open suspicion. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would you ever help us? We are nothing to you!" She squinted at the new arrivals. "If you aren't bounty hunters, then just who are you all?"
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>> FLTL Ch 373. The Encampment - II
Comments
Quendolayne
Again and again the same old song. Don’t they get tired. The best option is, to turn around and leave them to their fate. They clearly don’t want help. And if they change their mind, they can run after them. Maybe the very vocal man the brought with them can then explain what they just missed.
Johan Timmers
Tftc
