Avek crested the rise to find precisely what he had been dreading. The wreckage of a caravan declared overdue back in town lay splayed out across the pass dotted with what had to be bodies and their carrion attendants.
“Alright, it’s awful,” he called out to the trooper with him. “You take the east end, and I will start with the west.”
The two riders trotted to either end of the debris field and began to look over the bodies for possible survivors. Avek quickly became discouraged, given the wounds presented. The attackers had not wanted witnesses. Approaching what remained of the lead wagon, a groan reached his ears and drew his attention back to what had initially looked to be two bodies side by side. Now he saw it was one body with someone hiding behind it. He quickly dismounted and ran over.
A large man lay dead against the broken left front wheel of the wagon, his body cut and pierced in many places. Behind him, propped up against the splintered axle, lay a boy of maybe twelve years, covered in grime and blood that was likely not his. He wheezed and touched his lips. Avek snatched up the canteen from his belt, uncorked it and helped the boy gulp down several swallows.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Dannor,” the boy croaked.
“Are you hurt anywhere, Dannor?”
“No sir, just thirsty …and hungry.”
“I’m not a sir, son,” said the Patroller sergeant. We’ll get you some food. Meantime, can you tell me what happened here?”
“A bunch of men attacked us.”
“Didn’t you have guards?”
“Yes. But they ran. All but one. She told me to play dead. Saved me. They…they went around killing anyone left alive after the fighting stopped.” Tears welled in his eyes but did not yet fall.
“Where is she?”
“Over there.” The boy pointed to an armor-clad body laying face down in the grass a few paces away.
“Alright. I’ll get you some food, and then we will get you home.” Avek rose and walked toward the body. The other Patroller strode toward him.
“One survivor?” he asked.
“A boy, under the wagon,” Avek replied. He squatted down near the armored body.
“Who is that?”
“The one member of the guards who didn’t run at first sight of the bandits, or so the boy says.” Avek took the woman by the shoulders and gently rolled her over onto her back. A young knight of maybe twenty, her auburn hair a mass of tangles and matted blood, the same blood that smeared her face and armor. The two men both sucked in their breath at the sight of the sigil on her well-stained tabard. Three golden stars on a black field.
“Oh, this is not good,” Avek said, standing. “Not good at all.”
Continue the story in
Dark Vengeance Part 2 - A Royal Request
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