Chapter Eight:
With Friends Like These...
“Funny, this. Looks a lot like that tavern in Chernsburg, only with less character.” Baron Peregrinous looked around the bandit camp with a faint moue of distaste. “Honestly, with the coin we've been paying you, I would have expected better accommodations."
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Armand gave a hearty laugh and clapped Peregrinous on the shoulder, staggering the taller man. “Accommodations? My word, I didn't know we were going to have to put out the best linens. I'd best tell the lads to jump to it, toot sweet.” He whistled and gave hand signal to one of his men, who nodded and ran off with a broad smirk on his face. “Not to worry, your soon to be Honorship. We'll have you set up prop'ly. Least we can do for a man what brings us such fine garments,” said Armand, adjusting the belt over his gold and red surcoat. “It's not every day we can get the likes of these. Well, least not without all sort of holes, blood and shit on 'em.”
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Edward rolled his eyes. “Yes, and it cost a pretty penny to get that shipment diverted here from Bardorbis' storehouses. I trust you left at least some of my dear friend's workers alive to see your men wearing those colors,” he said, glancing at a group of bandits dividing up a meager pile of former worker's belongings.
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“No worries there, my chicken. Few of 'em outlived our furry little brutes, one big bastard and a few of his mates. Last we saw, they were hightailing it back up the road after that little brat on the horse. We sent a few arrows along to help speed 'em on their journey, but they looked lively enough.” The pair rounded the corner of a block of tents. “Ah, your Magnificence,” Armand said with a mocking bow and a sweep of his arm, “your quarters await.”
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“What the bloody hell is THAT?” Edward cried, taking an involuntary step back. The cage which once housed the camp's cane pack had seen better days. Not only bones, but scraps of half eaten, rotting flesh and mounds of droppings were scattered liberally around the enclosure. The man Armand had sent off earlier was standing by the open cage door, making a passably good attempt at standing to attention; as long as one ignored the muffled snorts and giggles.
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“Overwhelmed by luxury, no doubt.” Armand nodded. “In you go, your Lordship, can't take time to stand on ceremony now, not when the guest of honor is set to arrive any minute.”
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“What guest of – ooof!” A sharp shove from Armand sent Edward stumbling into the cage, and Armand's lackey fastened the gate behind him. “Aye, a fitting house for a man of your stature!” said Armand, laughing uproariously. Edward's face twisted in anger, and he reached into his coat. Armand's laughter ceased, but a hard smile remained. He drew a dagger from his belt and flipped it lightly, catching it by the blade. “Not entirely without a spine, eh? C'mon then, Baron, let's see what's what.”
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“Enough,” a rough voice spoke from the darkness behind Armand. “I don't have much time, and I certainly don't intend to spend it watching you two fight like boys at an orphanage.” A short man stepped forward into the light, flanked by two grim-looking guards. His hair was mostly gone to grey, cropped close to his head in military fashion. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue, and roved around his surroundings constantly. His men appeared no less alert, and despite the lack of uniforms they moved as though they were professional men at arms. Armand and Edward looked startled, but quickly bowed their heads toward the gentleman.
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Armand recovered first. “Sorry your Lordship, just meant to have a bit of fun, got carried away.”
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The man grunted, and turned to face Peregrinous. Edward stepped forward and grasped the bars of the cage door. “Duke Ralen. My apologies for anything untoward, your Grace. Now, if this jape of yours is finished, Armand,” he said, with a glance at the doorkeeper, “perhaps your man here would let me out of this vermin infested pit?”
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The Duke shook his head. “The cage is no jape, Ed. Change in plans. Armand can explain, I've got to be in Chernsburg in the morning for treaty negotiations. I was just here to make sure everything went smoothly with first phase. The boys here left your payment in your tent, Armand, nice piece of work out there.”
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“Always a pleasure, your Grace,” said Armand with a slight bow.
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“Ed, your payment will be waiting for you when you get back to Chernsburg. I'll see you and your companion there, assuming you can survive the night. Good evening, gentlemen.”
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“Companion? Who...?” But the Duke and his bodyguards had already walked away. Edward looked toward Armand, more confused than ever. “Okay, out with it. What the hell was he talking about? What plan? What companion?”
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Armand grinned broadly, clearly enjoying the situation. “Oh, you poor little dove. Nobody told you? You and your old friend are prisoners of war, now. That fat fuck Bardorbis' men attacked your wagon train last night, just before they sacked that pathetic little settlement out there in the woods.”
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Edward gave an impatient huff. “Yes, yes, and I barely escaped with my life. I know all of that; I'm the one who gave you the sodding uniforms. What does that have to do with this damned CAGE? And what friend?”
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“Oh, yeah, about the escaping bit. That's what's changed. His Grace doesn't think that Count Gram would have believed that a little mouse like you would have survived an attack by real soldiers and made it out unscathed.” Armand sucked at his teeth for a moment, looking pensive. “Reckon I might have been the one what made that partic'lar assessment, come to think of it. Anyway. A Baron can fetch a pretty ransom, if he's taken alive. So that's where the cage comes in, sunshine. You're to be held here until such a time comes where you can come up with a cunning little plan and escape. As to your friend... ah. Here he comes now.”
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Two more of Armand's thugs came toward the cage, bearing the semiconscious form of a third man between them. The man's shirt was gone, and his shoulder and chest were swathed in dirty bandages. The cage door was opened, and the man was flung inside like a sack of potatoes.
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“Good bit of marksmanship there, if I do say so myself. Jared's got a knack. Dear old William won't be running a footrace anytime soon, but he won't be bleeding out, neither.”
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“He's alive...?” Edward knelt down beside the feverish body of William Belleme and checked the bandages. Armand was right, the wounds were ugly but not life threatening. “Why? The whole idea was to get rid of him and his settlement, get Gram to send to Duke Lanoue for military aid...”
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Armand smiled and tapped the side of his nose. “Ah, but Ralen's a cunning old fox. Losing the settlement alone will send that old codger back in Chernsburg into fits. Killing Belleme doesn't gain us much. Alive, he's a trusted witness who saw Bardorbis' men kill his people, burn his town. And if we need him dead later on...” Armand shrugged. “That's what friends like you are for.”
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Armand tossed a dagger down into the dirt just outside of the bars of the cage. “Chirugeon reckons he'll be awake by tomorrow morning, afternoon at the latest. Tomorrow night the lads and I move on to the camps up north. There'll be a skeleton crew left here to guard you while we make the shift.” He kicked the dagger into the cage. “Lads won't know you're supposed to escape, makes it more believable for Belleme that way. Make it look convincing, eh, chicken?”
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With a final wink, Armand turned and walked away. Baron Peregrinous scowled and felt the weight of his spring-powered dart thrower (clever names are not Edward's strong suit) inside his coat. Memories of darkness, blood, dead barkeeps and flames filled his mind. Soon, Armand... soon.
