Prakfura Raiders: Chapter One: Bad Luck Outlaw Part Two {Redacted}

word count: 1953

My muscles clenched. Unicorns. I drew in a deep breath, forcing out the tension. “What about them? I thought they were outlawed years ago?”

“Aye, but Daeron’s been getting desperate. Them nobles fighting, us peasants dying,” Here he paused, commiserating. “He's brought back gladiator fights, to quicken the people’s spirits, he says.” A single tear rolled down his eyes.

I leaned over and placed a gentle hand on his knee. “We’ll live it through, we always have, always will.” I barely knew what was coming out of my mouth. All I wanted to do was to get my host into an optimistic mood so that I could easily get my horse. Perhaps it won’t be so easy any more. Perhaps your luck ran out, as it always does. The snarling comment came from Skin-and-Bones.

“I know, my boy, I know.” Mother Vrissy bustled in from somewhere, carrying three wooden bowls, and as many pewter spoons. “On the bright side, it’s time to get some warmth into you!” So saying, she slammed a foot into a wall-plank, and down tumbled a folded-in table.

“Bring the pot over.” She ordered. Wearily, I dragged myself off the seat to obey her command. My mind returned to the unicorns. My mind saw them as the legends told, glossy black horses, with a curved spiral horn, a tail like a scorpion, with three barbs instead of one. The fangs. I shuddered.

“Quicken your pace, boy!” Mother Vrissy impatiently waved me on. So I lunged the pot and plonked it onto the table. She drew benches from either sides of the wall. I stretched my neck, trying to get an annoying ache out of the way.

“So,” I inquired cautiously, when the bowls and people were set, “how did you come about this knowledge?”

“Oh,” the farmer replied nonchalant, “the mayor was boasting to us from the farmer guild, not three days ago, said he was getting permission to build a pit, that the king gave him so, and unicorns, too.”

“And Raymond took to gloating, again.” I rolled my eyes, referring to the Mayor of Rivercross by name. Yes, that was some nice blood you drew from Raymond, Skin-and-Bones, laughing.

I ran a hand over my hair to ease my mind, bringing it over and through to the end at the back.My mind tried to recall the heist, but strayed constantly to the unicorns. Blood baths, everyday, every hour. Unicorns would tear apart a human as easily as us eating lettuce. I wagged my head and dipped my spoon for another mouthful.

Overdone, my mouth told me bleakly. I scrapped my teeth over my tongue and spooned down more of the food. The image of unicorns tearing into children surfaced time and again in my mind. I grew frustrated. A queasy feeling came over me, and I longed to purge my stomach.

I gulped it all back down, as I did not want to disturb my hosts any more than was needed. I bent my shoulders, removing some of the tiredness, and tried to stand up. My mind wobbled, and my feet tottered.

I woke to find myself staring at a low arched, wood-beamed, ceiling. My mind was groggy. I could not contain retching. My appendages refused to move. I felt as though a giant had given me a box about the ears. My vision blurred, and I fell again into the depth of sleep.

I dreamt of unicorns and gold, my mind wheezing at the effort I placed in my dreams. I was rudely shaken awake. A cough came through my gullet. I choked. A burly man, brightly attired, with two missing front teeth, stood over me. He moved as though I was his patient, and he performing a surgery. I spat out at him, defiant. Something in me screamed danger. He slammed a fist into my forehead. White sparks dazzled their way across my vision, and I gave a gasp of pain. I subsided little, frantically casting glances about the room. It was bare. Absolutely bare. No beds, no cupboards, not even a stool. Dwarf. Burly dwarf. Dim in my mind, Fate spoke his warnings. My hand slid about in bonds. With arms tightly bound to my chest, I could hardly hope to reach my sword, if it even were on my waist.

The man left the room, but soon returned with a small cup, which he tilted into my lips. His voice was melancholy, and he gave a wan smile. “The poison was certainly much too big a dosage. You must have been a greedy little man.” He chuckled to himself.

“Who are you?” I demanded, furious and disoriented at the insult. “What are you doing? Get off from me, dwarf!” I spat the last word in irritable contempt. He merely cocked an eyebrow, smiled again, and left the room.

“Master Vrisbrin!” I shouted into the emptiness. “Mother Vrissy?” There was no reply, only laughter.

The opening in the wall, which was used as a door, soon became shadowed with a portly figure, carrying a tray. Farmer Vrisbrin entered, a cackle in his step, but a frown on his face, and held out a teapot daintily to lay it on the floor beside me. He swiped his calloused and wrinkled hand over my forehead, pushing the hair to the rear. How caressing! Fate.

Why didn’t you tell me he was false, metal tongue? I berated.

Why didn’t you listen, pea-brain? He mocked.

“Since when did you tell me?”

“Tell you what, son?” I jumped from my mind’s conversation to look at Vrisbrin, who was peering down at me with pity in his aged eyes. I glared up at him, refusing to deign him with a response. He sighed apologetically, “What could I do, son? Five thousand measures of silver for you, alive.”

“This is some sort of trick, isn’t it, huh, Vris?” I shouted, my throat constricting in anger. “Some sick joke you think to pull on me, huh?” I dragged out the last syllabus.

He reluctantly stuck a hand into his jacket and pulled a parchment. I could clearly see my visage when he unrolled the piece. “Five thousand silver measures for the capture of Ryandrol Trant, Age fourty-seven.” He went on to describe me, down to the dyed streak of red hair running from my eye scar to the back. “That’s you, I’m afraid. No other Ryandrol Trant I know.” Hu clucked his tongue, agonizing. “I just want peace for me and the missus, is all.” With that, he strode from the room.

The dwarf swaggered back in. Trailing closely was a woman, about my height, with the same copperish skin. Even her hair was jarringly similar to my own. She was decked out in startling purple doublets and jerkins, relieved by streaks of bronze leaves. The three gold leaves on her right shoulder proclaimed her to be a captain, and the spurs told of calvary. She was young, though, probably no more than twenty-eight.

“This is your prisoner, Captain Aley.” The dwarf made a reverential gesture towards the the woman, and somehow managed to use his a point of his thumb to gesticulate obscenely at me. I scowled.

“Good work, doctor Sankley. You will be well rewarded.” She spoke stiffly, as though courtesy forced the words from her. “What about the sword? I will need that as proof.”

“On what grounds do you so indecently mistreat a well-behaved citizen?” I demanded officiously.

“On the charges of possession of a magic weapon, treason, theft, and murder.” A curl adorned her lips.

My mind roiled. Magic weapon? How did we betray ourselves? I was stunned.

Your constant jabbering, what else. Skin-and-Bones laughed loudly inside.

“What? No! You are mistaken! It can’t be! There must be some mistake! You have the wrong man, can’t you recognize me?” I stammered in desperation.

Captain Aley placed a swift hand around the ropes which bound me, silent. With a quick yank, she threw me over her shoulder so that my head was at her hips as I dangled from her back. She threw a jiggling pouch to the dwarf and stalked out into the yard.

“Wait! My reward!” Vrisbrin, calling out frantically. A low laugh came from my captor.

“Jale! Give it to him!” A glint came to the eyes of one of the soldiers loitering about, and he strode confidently to the farmer. With a quick motion, his dagger found its way to Vrisbrin’s bowels. The man sank to the doorstones, his life seeping away.

Aley did not even pause to look. She took me into an adjoining lane and threw me into a waiting carriage. The dwarf climbed in after us. “What are you doing? Be gone!” The words were orders, but the smile on her lips told the dwarf otherwise, and he obstinately refused to budge. Sighing, the captain turned to her men and motioned them into a harsh cantor.

We reached Rivercross just as dusk was falling. The poisons that had dropped me still clung to my blood, and I slipped in and out of darkness all through the journey. The carriage was led, jolting, into a very small castle, which I recalled quickly as the mayor’s residence, and I was unceremoniously dragged out by Jale. He carried my aching body down deep into the earth, where I was deposited in a moudy and filth-ridden cell not quite big enough for me to lie curled in a ball.

I could feel Fate up on the surface, whining softly to me to get up and do something. There’s a terrible spellish feel to this place, he whispered.

I know, I thought back. Soon, Fate’s presence began to grow stronger. It was descending to me! I could hear the pounding of footsteps, followed soon by the woman captain.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain Aley!” I mocked hoarsely.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain About-to-die!” She replied in the same vein.

“Die? Surely not!” My heart pounded. There was nothing I feared more than death. “There must be some mistake, even you are bearing a magic sword!” I pointed out, sweat breaking on my forehead. This time I could not swipe it away. My nose itched.

“Aye! A magic sword which bawls out deadly lightning when wielded by all but those of the maker’s blood.” She glided an arm over the hilt. “I wonder what other power this holds. Should we find out?”

“You should touch the hilt.” I savagely grinned.

“I did.” She smiled, just as savage. “I wonder at our blood relation. You see,” here she squatted at the bars, “I don’t have family. I don’t want to have family.” She emphasized that last bit angrily, almost willing it to be true.

“We all have family,” I grasped the bars, my hope rising. Perhaps blood could do what friendship could not. “You and I, somehow, we’re connected!” I pointed out in my most persuasive voice.

“We all are connected,” She barked a merry laugh, and then mimicking me, she added, “You and I just happen to have more of the same.”

“So,” I growled, “you’re just going to let blood die, huh?” I tried the same trick I had failed on Vrisbrin.

“No, I’m not,” She giggled merrily, “Mayor Raymond wants it so, and so I’ll see to it that it is so.” She stood up and walked up the passage, stopping just within earshot. “Tomorrow at dawn, you die.”

“How?” I queried, a sudden dread filling me. Why aren’t you helping me? I screamed at Fate.

She’s blood, and closer than you can think. Fate reprimanded.

“Disembowelment? Punctures through your throat? Poison? How am I to know for certain? I only know one thing. Death,” Here a dramatic pause was made, followed by a slow drawn-out cackle, “by Unicorns!”