Bard, Chapter 1

“There’s bandits in the woods,” the barkeep said blithely as he wiped down the counter. “Roaming bands that fall on travelers, strip ‘em of everythin’ they’ve got, and leave ‘em for dead.”

The girl on the other side of the counter listened with widening eyes, the whites visible even under the hood she kept pulled up over her head. It was a nice hood—a nice cloak—thick and clean and embellished at the edges. Her dress was likewise clean and well made. A silky blouse peeked out at her neckline and wrists, and her boots looked new. A girl dressed like that should have a bodyguard, or at the very least an escort, but this one was alone. No carriage was waiting for her out front, no guard, no wizened old chaperone to keep her out of trouble.

Laura had seen the like before. Some rich girl who had read too many novels and run away from home with grandly misinformed ideas of adventure in her head. She would run off into the wilds, get bored or uncomfortable, and go running right back home. Silly rich girls never stayed away from their comfort or their safety for very long, and there was nothing much to be said of their misadventures, but they did tend to carry fat purses.

Across the room her brother, Liam, met her eyes. Laura flicked her gaze towards the girl and he shifted his gaze likewise. He watched her for a moment, while she cowered at the barkeep’s mere mention of wolves in the forest, then shrugged, and gave Laura a short nod.

“Excuse me,” Laura interrupted the barkeep’s graphic description of a man who’d been maimed by a wild lion. She approached with her shoulders drawn up, plaintively. “I couldn’t help but hear—are you going through the woods?”

“Uh…” The girl look down and wrung her hands. “I’m going to Everly,” she said softly.

“The woods might be fastest, but it’s a death trap with no escort,” the barkeep spat on the floor behind the bar. “Better to take the main road.”

“Oh, but that’s days out of your way,” Laura lamented.

“Yes,” the girl said shyly, “but I’m a bit pressed for time.”

Laura bit her lip, as if giving something serious consideration.

“My brother and I have some experience escorting people through the woods,” Laura offered, waving a hand towards Liam. He gave a short wave back, not giving up his chair near the fire. “It is dangerous work though. I’m afraid there is a fee,” she added this last bit with an air of deep regret. The girl’s expression brightened.

“I have some money,” she said, tugging a purse from within her cloak that jangled promisingly. Then, that girl—that poor, stupid girl—opened the whole thing up and showed Laura all the money that was inside. There were a few coppers and a healthy pool of silver with several gold coins peeking out.

Laura closed the girl’s hands around the purse and took a protective step closer, looking furtively around the room.

“You shouldn’t show off your purse where anyone could see,” Laura advised sternly. “You’re liable to attract thieves.”

“Oh, of course,” the girl ducked her head and tucked the purse away. “How much do you normally ask?”

“It is a dangerous road, so we usually ask forty silver,” Laura began, “but I couldn’t possibly let you go alone, so we could go as low as twenty.”

The girl’s face fell at the mention of forty silver, and brightened at twenty. It was a ludicrous amount for a pair of uncontracted sell-swords, but Laura wasn’t going to tell her that.

“I can do twenty,” the girl said, and Laura flashed her friendliest smile in return.

“Then you’ve got yourself an escort.” She nodded to Liam and he stood, crossing the room to join them at the bar. He was scrawny enough to not look intimidating, until you noticed that he wore a sword on each hip, and had enough scuffs and scars across the leather of his armor to contest a dozen fights or more. He was just exactly as tall as Laura, with the same dark, tightly curled hair, matching dark eyes, and sharp chin. The girl was a bit shorter than them both, and noticed the swords right off. “This is my brother, Liam. I’m Laura.”

“Nice to meet you,” the girl said, ducking her head and quirking an eyebrow, first at Liam’s sword, and then at Laura’s apparent lack of weapons. People in general were no good at understanding just how many knives you can hide on a person. “I’m Trista.”

“Pleasure,” Laura said, smiling. “it’s just barely midmorning, Trista. Shall we stop by the market to pick up supplies and be on our way? We could make good progress before nightfall.”

“How many days does it typically take to get through the woods?” Trista asked, her expression suddenly shrewd.

“Two, if we make good time,” Laura replied smoothly. Trista pushed her cloak back from her shoulder and pulled forward a wrapped bundle she’d slung behind her back. It looked exactly like bed linens that had been wound and tied as a pack. Gods, she really was exactly that kind of rich runaway. Laura idly wondered if they could get more silver as a reward for dragging her home, but there hadn’t been any notices of runaways in the last month.

“I have food,” Trista said. “Enough for two or three days, with all three of us. We could leave now.”

Or maybe Trista was too fresh a runaway to have notices up yet. She had mentioned being pressed for time. Laura wondered if the girl was fleeing an arranged marriage of some sort.

“Alright then,” she smiled again and gestured for the door. Liam went first, and Trista followed behind with Laura. It was a short walk to the outer edge of the city, but there was a bottleneck at the gates. Rather than both gates being held open during the day for people to pass in and out, half the gates were closed, and guards stood at hand to question and inspect everyone passing through.

It wasn’t terribly unusual—the governor of Ilgrad was famously paranoid, and ordered such searches regularly. It didn’t mean anything, even if this was exactly the sort of thing that that might happen if a particularly important rich girl had run off. Laura silently lamented the loss of all that silver, but did not turn away from the gate.

When it was their turn, the guards barely paid them any attention. Their belongings weren’t searched, and the men did little more than look at their faces.

“Someone we should be looking out for?” Liam asked blandly as the guard glanced at his swords.

“The governor’s had some property stolen,” the guard replied absentmindedly, waving them through and already shouting for the next in line. Laura watched Trista out the corner of her eye, and the girl seemed to drop her shoulders. She couldn’t tell if that was relief or not. Regardless, the guards were looking for a face, and they’d spent just as much time on Trista’s as anyone else’s, and let her right through.

There were plenty of people on the road at first, but by midafternoon most of the merchants and lone travelers had split off onto smaller country roads, or turned onto the main highway that skirted the forest and stopped in several townships before finally arriving at Ford, the crossing point for the River Swift and best route into Everly. The forest road ended in Ford as well, only it took a fraction of the time to get there and was noted for its bandits, even if those notes were exaggerated.

Laura had no doubt they’d run into someone in the forest who thought that Trista looked worth robbing, but most of the ‘bandits’ were desperate peasants and other such unfortunates who could easily be turned away with a glance at Liam’s swords, or the warning swish of one of Laura’s knives just missing their head. There were few who posed a real threat, and they were probably to the east, stalking the more frequently trafficked roads.

As it was, the forest road was shamefully overgrown for an official highway, and Liam had to stay in the front, occasionally hacking creeping vines, or encroaching briars out of their way. The branches were so low in places they had to duck beneath them. Whenever a low-hanging branch or dangling briar caught Trista’s hood she snatched at it like someone who’d just had a whole nest of spiders dumped over their head. It didn’t make any sense to Laura. They had both seen her face, and they were clear of the city and any guards, so why should she care if her hood stayed up?

Laura watched closely, checking every bramble and stray twig that might hook the hood and pull it back. When the next one swung low, she reached up and helped it along with a gentle tug. Trista snatched the hood back before it fell, but not before Laura made out a pair of curling horns sprouting from under her hair.

In the next moment, Laura had a dagger in each hand, her stomach clenched with dread. She stopped in her tracks, and Trista slowed to a stop as well, her shoulders going up.

“What is it?” Liam asked when he turned and found the two of them stopped.

“She’s not human,” Laura called out to him, and Trista cringed. Liam looked her over, cocking an eyebrow questioningly but drawing one of his swords nonetheless.

“I can explain,” Trista said softly.

“Lower your hood,” Laura demanded, slowly circling around to be closer to Liam.

“I really do just need help getting to Everly,” Trista said morosely. “I don’t know the way.”

“Then lower your hood,” Laura stressed.

Trista turned to run, and Laura released one of her knives, nailing the hem of her cloak to the ground and taking the girl to her knees. When Trista turned to tug the cloak free, Laura pierced through the sleeve of her dress, trapping her hand. Striding forward, she grabbed the hood of the girl’s cloak and pulled it down, revealing horns and also, a startling transformation. Her skin turned violet, as well has her eyes, which were slitted like a snake. There were scaled ridges along the edges of her cheeks, and when she opened her mouth to speak she had fangs.

“Please let me go!” Trista exclaimed as Laura leapt back. “You can have my money, just let me leave!”

“What are you?” Laura asked.

“I’m—it’s—” Trista stammered, then caught herself, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what I am.”

“It matters a great deal,” Laura snapped.

“Why were you in such a hurry to leave Ilgrad?” Liam asked. Trista looked up at him, almost pleading.

“There were people looking for me,” she replied. “I wanted away from them.”

“The governor’s people?”

Trista nodded and Laura cursed, drawing two more knives.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “What exactly did you steal from him?”

“Nothing!” Trista protested, then added, “well, the cloak and the food, I suppose…and the money…”

“They weren’t looking for those things at the gate,” Liam pointed out.

“They were looking for me at the gate,” Trista said.

It was Liam’s turn to curse. He swore under his breath, sheathing his sword and running both hands through his hair.

“Looking for you, the thief?” he asked hotly, “or looking for you, the governor’s personal property?”

Trista cringed, looking at the ground. Her shoulders slumped and Liam cursed again, striding past Laura and kneeling to pull the daggers free.

“Liam!” Laura hissed, and he met her eyes, shrugging apologetically.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, then to Trista, “We’ll get you to Ford, at least. Don’t kill us in our sleep, okay? You’ll make me look bad in front of my sister.” He stood, offering his hand. Trista took it, and he pulled her to her feet.