Chapter 14: The Robbers are Subdued
The pale light of dawn had just begun to creep over the mountain, but it brought no warmth. Near the summit, the air was particularly thin and biting, carrying a frost that seemed to settle in the marrow of the bone.
Fraisale and Blocare huddled on two weathered tree stumps, their hands outstretched toward a flickering fire. As the designated lookouts, it was their job to ensure the cave entrances remained undisturbed while the rest of the gang slept off the previous night's haul. At the moment, however, the chill and their own curiosity were far more pressing than their duty. They were more concerned with their conversation than with their lookout.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Fraisale muttered, his breath hitching in the cold. “Who ever heard of a girl who can control wolves?”
“She’s not a girl,” Blocare countered, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “She’s a witch.”
“Is she, though?” Fraisale leaned in. “We know every witch on this mountain. We’ve seen them; we’ve made our pacts. We don't touch their trinkets, and they leave us alive. But this one? No one has ever seen her among their circles.”
“Maybe she’s new.”
“But you heard what Cap said. He said she wasn’t living with the witches. He said she was part of the family that they robbed.”
“Well then maybe—” Blocare stopped abruptly, his head cocking to the side like a startled hound. “Listen!”
Fraisale froze, straining his ears. The mountain was vast and filled with a labyrinth of five caves that formed a natural, defensive ring around their clearing. Usually, the wind whistling through the crevices was the only sound, but now, a heavy silence had fallen.
“Did you hear something?” asked Blocare.
“I don’t think so,” Fraisale said, though his hand drifted instinctively toward the hilt of his blade.
“I thought I heard something,” Blocare said.
Fraisale looked around. “I don’t see anything,” he said.
“There’s something out there,” Blocare insisted, peering into the dense stand of pines that bordered the clearing. “In the trees.”
“Well, have a look then,” Fraisale snapped, trying to shake off the unease. “We are supposed to be keeping watch, after all.”
Blocare stood, his silhouette dark against the gray morning, and vanished into the shadows of the timber. Fraisale remained by the fire, his gaze darting between the cave entrances. To his left were the two smaller storage caves; to his right a third cave entrance; and directly behind him, the large, vine-draped mouth of the main treasury. And a fifth cave was slightly further down the mountain, and faced opposite the big cave.
All five of these caves formed a little ring, and in that ring was a rather large clearing area, free from trees and bushes, where the robbers gathered and held meetings.
And in the very center of the ring was the fire pit, which is where Fraisale sat now.
Fraisale kept sitting on the tree trump, and waited for Blocare to re-emerge from the trees. But Blocare did not come back.
“Now what do you suppose is keeping him?” Fraisale muttered to himself.
“Could be any number of things, I suppose,” a voice replied.
Fraisale nearly jumped up in surprise. He spun around, sword half-drawn, only to find a raven perched on the very log Blocare had just vacated. It watched him with a single, glittering eye. “What are you doing here?” Fraisale demanded.
“I beg your pardon,” the raven replied, puffing out her iridescent chest feathers in an offended manner. “We ravens live on this mountain as well, you know. And you ought to know that birds come and go as they please.”
“Yes, well usually birds keep to themselves, and don’t bother people by talking to them,” Fraisale spat.
“Well, if you didn’t want me to talk to you, then you shouldn’t have asked me a question,” the bird replied tartly.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Fraisale snapped. Fraisale’s eyes darted upward as two more dark shapes cut through the mist. “Who are they?”
“They are my brothers, Baldrick and Balsamer. Oh, and my name is Bettina, by the way.”
“And what are they doing?”
“Keeping watch.”
“Keeping watch for what?” Fraisale’s voice rose in agitation. “This is our camp.”
“Keeping watch for the wolves,” Bettina replied coolly.
As if on cue, three massive wolves stepped from the treeline. Their fur was matted with frost, and their low, rhythmic growls vibrated in Fraisale's chest.
Fraisale jumped to his feet, finally clearing his sword from its sheath.
“I doubt that sword will do you much good,” Bettina chirped, tilting her head. “Your best bet is just to run for it.”
Fraisale looked at the raven in bewilderment. Who was this bird, and why was she giving him advice? But then the snarling from the wolves quickly refocused Fraisale on the threat at hand. Fraisale was momentarily paralyzed as he waited to see what the wolves would do. But then when they started running towards him, he dropped his sword and ran into the trees as fast as he could.
Once he entered into the trees, Fraisale kept running. He didn’t dare turn around to see if the wolves were still behind him. He just ran as fast as he could down the mountain slope. He ran blindly, branches clawing at his tunic like skeletal hands. He didn't dare turn around to see if the wolves were snapping at his heels; he simply threw himself down the mountain slope, his boots skidding on loose shale.
Suddenly, the world vanished from beneath him.
A thin, taut rope had been tied between two trees, and caught him across the shins. Fraisale hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, the air driven from his lungs in a sharp gasp. Before he could even realize he'd been tripped, the shadows of the forest seemed to coalesce into solid forms.
Six teenagers swarmed over him, pinning him to the dirt. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but a thick wad of cloth was stuffed into his jaws, muffling the sound into a pathetic grunt.
Rough hemp rope was coiled around his wrists and ankles, cinched tight until it bit into his skin. Once he was completely immobilized, they dragged him through the underbrush and plopped him down like a sack of grain.
Fraisale rolled his eyes to the side and found himself staring into the wide, terrified eyes of Blocare, who was already bound and gagged right next to him.
***********
Alfred sprinted low across the brush, dropping beside Catherine. “We’ve bagged the second lookout,” he breathed, catching his breath.
Before Catherine could answer, a rush of dark wings sliced through the canopy. Bettina the raven landed on her shoulder. “That’s both of them,” the bird rasped. “No one else is keeping watch.”
“And their weapons?” asked Catherine.
“They keep their weapons by the cave entrance for the most part,” said Bettina. “A few of them sleep with knives or daggers by their side, but all the big weapons—the broadswords and axes—are all stacked at the entrance are at the entrance to the cave.”
Catherine smiled. “Excellent.”
“Right, you know what to do,” Shawn whispered to everyone in the group. “Go out and collect all the weapons. And quietly. Don’t wake up any of the robbers.”
The teenagers stepped out from the trees and silently flowed through the hideout. They moved like ghosts toward the gaping stone mouths of the caves, carefully lifting heavy iron axes and bundles of arrows, carrying them back into the safety of the treeline.
“Now,” Catherine murmured, turning to Carlyle, “let’s wake our hosts.”
Carlyle gave a nod, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
Catherine turned to look at her shoulder. “You may begin, Bettina.”
With a sharp launch, the raven soared into the grey dawn sky, circling the cavernous peaks with a piercing, jagged caw. Moments later, her brothers, Baldrick and Balsamer, rose to join her. The sky filled with a chorus of birds cawing in the sky.
Below, the caves stirred. Muffled curses echoed off the stone.
“What’s that bloody racket!”
“Someone shoot those damn birds!”
“Hey—where are my arrows? Where’s my bow?”
“Fraisale! Blocare! Where the hell are the lookouts?”
The robbers began stumbling out of their caves, still stupid with sleep. Some of them were beginning to realize their weapons were gone.
Catherine then turned to the wolves. “Remember,” she said, “today you are not to kill any of them unless absolutely necessary. You may frighten them, but do not kill them.”
The wolves growled their acknowledgement. Then they bounded up into the clearing and started barking furiously. The robbers started yelling in fear.
Some of the robbers wanted to run away, but the wolves had the clearing surrounded, and would not let any of the robbers out. A few of the robbers, who still had daggers or knives on their bodies, took out their weapons, but it was obvious that a single knife would do little good against a full grown wolf.
Catherine emerged from the trees. “Put down your knives, and you will live,” she said, her voice ringing over the chaos. Most of the robbers immediately obeyed her, and the air sounded with the clatter of iron on stone as daggers were tossed away.
Carlyle marched out behind her, flanked by the rest of their forces. Lucinda stood with her spear poised; Gabrielle had her bow drawn to the cheek, an arrow notched and aimed at the crowd. The rest held their swords and clubs at the ready.
“Do you surrender?” Catherine asked.
A rugged man near the front spat on the ground, though his eyes darted nervously to a snarling wolf inches from his thigh. “What do you want from us?”
“I want your surrender,” said Catherine. “I want you to acknowledge that we have beaten you, and that you have lost. You agree not to fight us anymore, and in return we will show you mercy. Do you surrender?”
The wolves barked threateningly, and there was then a clamor of desperate voices shouting their submission.
“Put your hands on your head,” Carlyle ordered, stepping forward. “All of you, out of the caves and onto the dirt. Sit!”
They complied, sluggish at first, until a low growl from the pack snapped them into motion. Soon, nearly two hundred robbers were packed into the clearing like herded sheep. Alfred, Paul, and Marcus swept the five caves, checking every dark recess to ensure no one was hiding. The rest of the group kept their weapons pointed at the robbers the whole time to make sure they didn’t try anything. And the wolves growled at any robber who made any sudden movement.
“The caves are all clear,” Marcus said finally, after emerging from the fifth cave. “We’ve got them all.”
“And that’s not all,” Alfred added, a wry grin on his face. “They’ve been busy. They’ve got a lot of stuff hidden in these caves. The back tunnels are bursting with gold, jewelry, winter stores, fine clothes, and casks of wine.”
“It must be nice to live so richly,” said Carlyle bitterly.
“The mountain folk could survive three winters on this,” Paul muttered.
“They shall have it,” Carlyle promised.
Catherine walked to the edge of the tightly packed crowd. “Who commands this rabble? Who is the robber king?”
Eyes shifted instantly toward a heavy-set, middle-aged man in the center. “Bring him out,” Catherine said.
Lucas and Kevin hauled the man to his feet by his collar, dragging him through the dirt to throw him down before Catherine and Carlyle. He looked to be about forty, his face leathery and lined from a hard life in the elements, but his frame was still thick with muscle.
“Kneel,” Catherine commanded.
The man looked at Catherine sullenly. He looked at the circle of drawn bows, the glittering spears, and the panting wolves. And then he slowly lowered himself down to his knees.
“Are you the one that they call the robber king?” asked Catherine.
“I am,” he said.
“You are king no more,” Carlyle said. “We are now the leaders of the robbers.”
The robber king sneered. “If they will follow you,” he said.
“They will follow us,” Catherine said.
“What is your name?” asked Carlyle.
“My name is Verus.”
“Why did you rob and kill our father, Verus?” Carlyle asked.
“I did not,” said the robber king. “That was my men. I was not there. The king of the robbers never goes out on the expeditions himself.”
“Why did your men do it, then?” Catherine asked. “He had almost nothing worth stealing. Just the supplies for the winter that he got from the forest. Usually you robbers leave the mountain folk alone.”
“We used to,” said Verus. “But it’s gotten more difficult lately. We’ve had to pay a lot more out.”
“What do you mean pay a lot more out?” asked Carlyle.
Verus let out a bitter laugh. “Do you think the monsters who live on this mountain would leave us in peace?” he asked. “The ogres demand gold just to let us sleep at night. The vampires want diamonds and jewelry, or they take my men as cattle. The Minotaur demands half our food. We have to pay the toll constantly just to keep our throats from being slit in the dark! But we have no choice, because we are all wanted men in the forest. We’d be hung if the forest people caught us down there.” He shook his head. “Lately, the monsters are getting greedier and demanding more. So we’ve had to keep paying more. But too many trips down to the forest are dangerous with the royal guards patrolling, so my men got desperate. They started hitting the mountain folk.”
“But why did they have to kill our father,” said Catherine. “Wasn’t it enough to rob him?”
“The forest folk we can rob and then run away from,” said Verus. “But we live on the same mountain with the mountain folk. And most of the mountain folk are crazy. It’s not usually a good idea to leave them alive after you’ve robbed them. They might try to get their revenge, or get their stuff back. It is cleaner to leave no witnesses.”
“What foolish thinking,” said Carlyle. “You see now where that thinking got you? Killing the mountain folk only makes their families angrier.”
Carlyle started to draw his sword out, but Catherine held out her hand and stopped him. Then she looked down at the kneeling king. “We should punish you,” she said. “But instead, we will reward you. You will find yourself better off under us than you were before. We will protect you from the ogres and the vampires and the minotaur. You will finally have peace and security in these mountains.”
Verus scoffed. “How can you possibly protect us against the monsters?”
“We won’t do it alone,” said Catherine. “You will help us of course.”
“You expect us to fight the ogres? You’re crazy!” Verus exclaimed.
“You can join us, or you can die,” Carlyle said, and he fingered his sword again.
“It strikes me, Verus,” said Catherine, “that you are the crazy one. What does it profit you to spend all your time robbing, if you have to give everything you steal to the ogres and the vampires? The whole point of robbing is that it’s supposed to be profitable. If you’re not going to be any better off than the other mountain folk, then you may as well just join the woodcutters, and make an honest living. But think how rich you will become if you don’t have to share your treasures with the monsters.”
“Of course, you’ll have to share some of your plunder with the mountain folk,” said Carlyle.
“Of course,” said Catherine. “But don’t worry about that. The mountain folk are simple people. They won’t demand your gold or diamonds, like the monsters do. If you simply give them a bit of your food, and maybe some of your warm clothes, they’ll be satisfied. You’ll be able to keep all the really good stuff for yourself. Oh, and I almost forgot. We must make sure that my wolves are well taken care of as well. But that’s even easier. The wolves don’t need clothes, and they generally hunt their own food. But they could use somewhere warm to sleep. These mountains can get so cold and windy at night. I’m sure you could make room for them in your caves.”
“We can,” said Verus. And here, Carlyle thought he could see the robber king smiling slightly. “The caves are very deep. We have room for many more.”
“Excellent,” said Catherine, adjusting her cloak against the morning chill. “Because we also will be staying in the caves with you from now on.”
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