The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God. Raymond E. Feist

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      ‘How do you know?’ said the ill-used boy.

      ‘Jacob Stephenson told me that when Twomy Croom’s father broke his back from that fall in their barn, the old man couldn’t move his legs, couldn’t even feel anything below the waist.’

      ‘That’s bad,’ said Zane.

      ‘Didn’t matter,’ offered Tad. ‘The old man died a day later.’

      ‘Feels like I broke it,’ said Zane in a weak bid for sympathy.

      ‘Get the other sword,’ said Tad.

      Zane took the one next to the first man they had killed. Tad hefted the other and the taller boy said, ‘We should get back to the wagon.’

      Zane said, ‘But Caleb said not to come back?’

      Tad’s blood was up and he almost shouted, ‘But he may need our help!’

      ‘You think Caleb’s all right?’

      Fear and exultation mixed in equal measure as Tad said, ‘If we can kill two of these bastards, I’m sure Caleb was the equal of the other three.’

      Zane didn’t look convinced, but he followed his foster brother.

      They moved cautiously up the hillside towards the road. It was now full night and the way was difficult as they navigated their way through the underbrush and thick boles. As they reached the verge of the road, they stopped and listened for any hint of the bandits. The sounds of the forest at night was all they heard. A light evening breeze rustled leaves and the sound of night birds echoed from some distance away. All appeared peaceful.

      They ventured onto the road and looked in both directions. ‘Where’s the wagon?’ whispered Tad.

      Zane shrugged, the gesture lost on his companion, so he said, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if this is where we were, or if we were that way’ he pointed down the road to his left, ‘or the other.’

      Then they heard a horse’s snort and the rattle of traces coming from the left. They had climbed back to the road farther to the east than they had thought. The boys hurried along the edge of the road, ready to dart back into the trees should they encounter bandits.

      In the gloom they barely saw the first body, sprawled on the far side of the road. It was the bandit who had first accosted them. Farther down the road the wagon was stationary on the other side of the road while the two horses attempted to crop whatever they could from the underbrush. Another bandit lay dead as they reached the end of the wagon.

      The boys circled around and saw two figures, the last bandit, the one with the crossbow, lying dead next to the wagon’s left front wheel and another figure slumped down beside him, back against the wheel of the wagon.

      Caleb sat upright, but was unconscious, his body held in place by the wagon wheel and the dead bowman’s corpse. Tad knelt next to him and said, ‘He’s breathing!’

      Zane pulled the corpse of the last bandit aside, and Caleb fell over sideways. Tad examined him and found a deep gash in his side where a crossbow bolt had found its mark, as well as several sword cuts. ‘We’ve got to do something!’

      Zane said, ‘Strip that man’s shirt,’ as he pointed to the nearest bandit. ‘Cut bandages.’

      Tad did as Zane said and pulled out Caleb’s huge hunting knife, using it to cut bandages from the man’s filthy shirt. Zane hurried to inspect the other two corpses and returned with two more swords and a small purse. ‘They must have robbed before,’ said Zane.

      Throwing an impatient look at Zane, Tad said, ‘You think?’

      ‘I mean recently,’ said Zane, holding up the purse. ‘It’s got some coins in it.’

      ‘Well, we had better get Caleb into the wagon, because I don’t know how long he’s going to make it without help.’

      Both boys picked up the injured man and deposited him in the back of the wagon. Tad said, ‘You stay back there with him. I’ll drive.’

      Neither boy was an experienced teamster, but both had spelled Caleb on their journey, and Zane admitted Tad was a better driver. The horses were reluctant to leave their forage and head down the road. ‘How far did he say that village was?’ asked Tad.

      ‘I don’t remember,’ said Zane. ‘But hurry. I don’t think we have much time.’ Tad pulled to the right and got the horses pointed down the road and with a flick of the reins and a shout got them moving. With another flick and a louder shout, he got them up to a brisk trot, the fastest he could manage in the darkness without running themselves off the dark road.

      Caleb lay motionless, his head resting on a bundle of empty sacks while Zane tried his best to halt the bleeding. Softly, Zane whispered, ‘Don’t die!’

      Tad silently echoed his foster brother’s request as he urged the horses down the dark and forbidding road.

      The ride through the forest seemed to take forever. The boys alternated between an almost panic-stricken terror and a determined optimism that everything would turn out for the best.

      They had no sense of time, as the minutes passed by and the road passed under the hooves of the horses. The animals had not been rested for hours before the ambush, and they were panting and the one on the left seemed to be favouring his left hind leg, but Tad ignored it; he’d kill both horses in their traces if it would save Caleb.

      Both boys liked the tall, quiet hunter, as they thought of him. They knew he was related to the owners of Stardock, though the exact nature of the relationship was vague to them. They also knew that their mother was in love with Caleb and that he cared deeply for her. Resentful of his attentions at first, they had both come to appreciate how happy his visits made her. Tad’s deepest fear was having to return to Stardock and seeing the look on his mother’s face should he have to tell her of Caleb’s death.

      Suddenly they were in the village. Tad realized that he had been so focused on what he would have to tell his mother and that Zane had been tending Caleb so closely, neither had noticed they had left the forest and had been passing by farms for some time now. The large moon was up and in the shimmering light of its reflected glow they could see the village of Yar-Rin. A few huts lined the roadway into the village square, and three large buildings dominated. One was the mill, on the far side of the square, and the other two appeared to be a shop of some sort, and an inn. The inn showed a sign with a sleeping rooster ignoring a sunrise. Remembering Caleb’s instructions, Tad pulled up before the inn and went to bang hard on the bolted door.

      After a minute a voice from above sounded as a window was thrown open. ‘What is it?’ shouted an angry landlord as he thrust his head out the window.

      ‘Are you McGrudder? We need help!’ shouted Tad.

      ‘Wait a minute,’ said the man as he withdrew his head.

      A moment later the door opened and a large man in a nightshirt appeared in the doorway holding a lantern. ‘Now, who’s we and what sort of help—’ His questions died on his lips as he saw Zane kneeling next to the prone figure in the wagon bed. He held the lantern close and said, ‘Gods of mercy!’

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