Chapter 7. The Ambush

The morning mist clung low to the earth, veiling the trail ahead in a pale hush.

Birdsong was absent. Even the wind held its breath.

There was a kettle hanging on the campfire- boiling some spiced drink to warm the entourage before setting off.

Everyone held a metal canteen in their hands savouring the spiced hot drink- a treat from Shan, the merchant.

The morning chill was gnawing at their bones- it didn't help that they had to be on the move soon, battling the blowing draught.

Rain was seated inside a carriage, a steaming canteen on his side- he was busy filing off the uneven chips in his rustic knives, giving them a new shine.

They wouldn't last him long. That was a fact he knew.

****

Back to the bandit's camp.

The men were shuffling around, making the last preparations before their 'Payday'.

In the main tent, Larp was oiling his dagger, removing bits of flesh that clung to its blade.

The dagger had served him well since the days of his youth: It was unassuming- that couldn't be further from the truth.

It was a silent reaper, it had consumed countless souls- saved him from tough spots- always reliable, it had never failed him.

"It drinks deep.Feed it enough, and it'll never dull."

Larp muttered, gently caressing the blade.

At the periphery of Larp's vision lay a table, sorrounded by four figures.

Larp got into motion closing in on it.

The 'big boys' were ironing the last details of their strategy.

The imposing figure was Rajju, next to him his second in command - the other two were his lieutenants- the ones responsible for co-ordinating the rowdy nitwits outside.

Larp...well, he was out of the pecking order- he did whatever he pleased, nobody dared to fuck with him.

He just had to ocassionaly do some favours for the Boss- when his area of specialty is required- he loved getting unwilling victims to talk, the more stubborn the better.

On the table was the map of the pass, a mound of dirt on either side representing the two ridges- pieces of bones pointing down the ridge. At the middle, between the mounds was a pebble- the quarry.

They would swarm the caravan from either side of the ridge, lope some heads and finaly all there was would be theirs for the taking.

****

The beasts of burden lumbered on pulling carriages behind them, rocking side by side.

"Grak it!, this constant rocking has turned my lady bottom sore."

Marra complained, shifting herself to a more comfortable position.

A bout of laughter erupted from inside of the carriage only ending after a few moments.

They had been on the road for a couple of hours already, they had left at the crack of dawn...it would be close to nine in the morning, yet the fog clung onto them like a second skin.

Maybe it was due to the mountain range in the distance, their jagged peaks cutting into the sky.

Cold air funneled down through the pass, thick with moisture, making it quite difficult to see more than a few strides ahead.

Shan walked alongside one of the wagons, sipping slowly from a dented canteen, keeping a careful eye on the road ahead.

Behind him, one of the guards muttered a curse, stumbling on a loose rock. His chainmail clinked with every step.

Thom slid his sword into a sheathe tied onto belt loop, stood up, and peered through the mist- he really loved his weapon- polishing at every chance he got

"How much longer through the pass?" He asked, not turning his head.

"Less than an hour, if nothing slows us," came a voice - old Gens, appearing ghost-like out of the fog.

Thom gave a slow nod.

Inside the carriage, Marra rubbed her backside theatrically, grinning at the others. "Ain't right, riding on planks like this. Next time, I want cushions. Silk ones."

"Next time," Shan said, dryly, "bring your own throne."

Another ripple of laughter — nervous this time.

Above, unseen on the ridgeline, a rock shifted. Just slightly.

Enough to knock a pebble loose.

It bounced once. Twice.

Then disappeared into the fog below.

Landing next to the spoked wheel of a carriage below.

Marra peered outside, scanning the ridge above- her eyes caught a silhouette, crouching.

"WATCH OUT!"

she yelled unstringing her crossbow from her back.

"FIGURES ON THE RIDGE!"

The caravan suddenly stopped, a rock was in the middle of the path

Everyone erupted into motion, unsheathing their weapons,taking cover, stances ready.

A bolt was sent into the foggy ridge above, sparking a yelp of pain.

****

A few moments earlier...

The bandit camp was deserted, everyone had descended below, close to the pass.

The men had split, each half situated on each ridge, they lay in wait.

Down below, four carriages pulled by horses came into view, they were in a single file.

On its side either side were two guards in metal armour, chainmail clinking with every step.

The Boss smiled, his quarry was almost where he wanted them- pushing the rock into the middle of the path had done a number on his stamina.

It was necessary, he wouldn't have his victim escape, would he?

He couldn't afford a chase.

Everything was falling into place.

"Closer, closer" He whispered, holding his breath.

At the other ridge, his second in command would be leading the men- make a pincer attack; divide and conquer.

One of the men lying in wait shifted, a rock was jutting into his midsection, quite uncomfortable.

As he was turning he shoved a mid sized rock down below.

It bounced once, twice and disappeared in the fog down below.

He held his breath, turning his gaze to Larp, his eyes pleading.

He opened his mouth to plead....

>>>WATCH OUT<<

His gut dropped. He had ruined it!

>>>FIGURES ON THE RIDGE<<

Twack!

A bolt struck the man square on the chest.

He let out a yelp, clutching his chest- tumbled down below.