Chapter One

[Mythonian]

CHAPTER ONE


Three men suddenly ran out of the treeline and moved toward the center of the narrow road. Gregor, leading the caravan, needed to decide immediately how to respond to the bandits blocking the road 120 yards ahead. Trying to break past them is what he preferred doing in the past, when he led smaller caravans, but this current one was five wagons and three mule-driven carts, twice the size he was used to. Not everyone would be able to make it if he tried it.

Sighing, he resigned to the second best option, circling the wagons and hoping they outnumbered the bandits several times over. Most of the road was narrow and wooded on both sides, but they had just entered a clearing, thankfully giving them enough space to do it. He whistled the alarm and called out to the caravan, "Bandits! Circle the wagons!"

Most of the caravaners present were experienced and they followed suit. Less than thirty seconds after spotting the bandits at the far edge of the clearing, the entire caravan was circled together near the center of the clearing. Everyone was shouting and rushing to exit the wagons and congregate into the middle of the circled wagons and carts.

It was a trading caravan, used to traveling from town to town selling their wares. Traders being targeted by bandits wasn't uncommon to hear about, but in over twenty-six years of caravanning Gregor had only experienced it four times before, three of those times they broke past the bandits and escaped.

There were 27 of them, including six women and three children. The men spread out near the wagons, preparing for the bandits to rush them. If they tried to come between the wagons, they could only fit one at a time, and it would be much easier to fend them off.

Gregor was the oldest man in the caravan and his youth had left him years ago, but he could still defend himself if it came to it, and he was able to remain calm. For now he was standing back making sure everyone was where they should be, letting the younger men take the brunt of things should the bandits decide to attack.

Peering toward where the bandits were blocking the road, Gregor could see the three that had been blocking the road had begun walking toward the caravan. They were about 40 yards to the south. He called out to someone on the far side of the circle, "Hey Jorba, anything approaching from the north?"

"Three to the west!" replied a third person. He was younger, barely a man, and his voice shook a little. Gregor did not know the boy's name, but he nodded his head and faced back to Jorba.

Jorba was still poking his head out around the edge of a wagon, and after a moment he called out "Two from the northeast, one with a bow, so that makes eight!"

Gregor wasn't happy to hear about the bowman. It was rare to see someone able to use one effectively, and most bandits resorted to hand axes and clubs, with a few blades. Almost never would you see a bandit able to procure a quality bow. Worse still, it meant they weren't entirely safe within the wagons, and the women and children in the center were more exposed than anyone.

Our 18 men more than double their numbers, but Gregor knew most of the caravan had never saw actual fighting before, and none had experienced dealing with a bowman attacking them, not even Gregor himself. He began selecting those who seemed the most capable if it came to a fight, and chose about 5 others who, if it came to it, would rush out at the bandit bowman with him.

---

The three bandits that had been approaching from the south were only about 15 yards from the wagons now, and one of them called out "Well hello there folks, you wouldn't happen to know the quickest way to Foabur, would you?" He was licking the edge of his hatchet as he chuckled at his own sarcasm.

Foabur was exactly where the caravan had been headed, and was barely a quarter-day south of them now. These bandits have seemingly been staking out this road for a while now, waiting for someone to come passing through.

Gregor looked around and saw a good portion of the men swallowing hard, adjusting their grips on their tools and makeshift weapons. A few among them had aged swords, three had simple staves, and one man was simply holding onto a wooden chair with one hand and a thick club with the other.

No one had responded to the bandit yet, so Gregor cleared his throat and spoke, "We outnumber you three-to-one and have four guards from Nalvo. We have no directions nor goods to give you, so simply be on your way!" Nalvo was the previous town they had been to, it was about four days north of them now, and it is well-known for the training the city guards received. It was unfortunate they did not actually hire any guards from there though.

"Is that so?" the bandit replied laughingly, "well then, I guess we will have to ask someone else for directions... Maybe one of those pretty looking girls I see in there?" The other two bandits beside him roared out laughing.

A notable *twang* sound reached Gregor's ears, followed shortly by Jorba yelling, "Arrow! Watch the sky!" The women and children began panicking, trying to look up but being blinded by the midday sun. A moment later the arrow landed resoundingly into the side of a wagon, on the far side of the circle away from the bowman. It was only a few feet from hitting the large man holding the chair and club.

The bandit that spoke earlier, now obviously the leader of the group, shouted loudly "Consider this your opportunity to surrender. Put down your weapons and maybe we won't kill you all!"

In the silence that followed, a loud *thud* came from behind the western group of three bandits. They whipped around in surprise, as did the three from the south, where their leader was. It was a fist-sized rock that had been thrown and landed there, but Gregor could not tell who had done it, or from where. As Gregor turned back to face the bandit leader, another *thud* sounded, this time accompanied by a distinct sound of a cracked skull. The bandit leader fell forward to the ground. He didn't move.

The remaining two bandits from the south were shocked, and the three western ones saw their leader collapse as well. As the two nearest the body turned toward the forest behind them, a figure was already running out at them, faster than Gregor had witnessed someone move before. The figure had moved already a third of the way toward the bandits.

The bandits, realizing the situation, began to ready their weapons to attack the newcomer. The forest was more than 50 yards away from them, but this newcomer had covered that distance already. Before he could react, a staff came down hard on the side of the first bandit's head and he dropped to the ground.

---

The sudden flurry of activity had caught the attention of anyone who could see past the edge of the wagons. More surprised than anyone, though, were the bandits themselves. They were not prepared for a sudden attack.

Gregor's eyes could finally focus on the quick newcomer, and he realized it was a woman.

The strange woman was now upon the last remaining bandit toward the south. The bandit had readied his makeshift mace and was trying to land a blow on the woman, but his swing was deftly parried and a thrust of the staff into his abdomen left him gasping for air as he writhed on the ground.

The woman's hair was like flowing silver, and Gregor saw what appeared to be sharply pointed ears. His mouth was already agape, and now he could utter only a single word, "Elf."

The three bandits from the west had already begun charging her, spreading out slightly to approach her from three sides. They were 30 yards away and approaching steadily. By this time Gregor had finally regained some reasoning, and he turned to those he had selected earlier, "Come on, this is our chance!" He had originally selected them to rush the bowman, but instead they moved toward where the elf would be fighting the three bandits. Gregor's mind had forgotten entirely about the bowman.

They rushed between the wagons, trying to close the distance. The elf had no fear and allowed the bandits to spread out unhindered, but they were cautious and stayed several yards back. With the unexpected approach of Gregor and the five others, the bandits were out of time. Suddenly, two of them charged in to strike at the woman simultaneously. The third stayed back.

The first had a new-looking woodman’s axe, and the second had a saber. The steel of the saber appeared well-made, but it was not being maintained well and was probably half-dull. The axe came down first, aiming for her shoulder. She jumped back suddenly as he swung, and he met nothing but air. He stumbled forward trying to recover, but he was totally unprepared for her swiftness. The saber tried to stab the elf now, but the bandit didn't even get in close enough due to the superior length of the staff. He clutched at his throat as his windpipe had suddenly been crushed.

The axe wielder had recovered, but by now the caravaners had reached him. He took a club to the back of the head and fell unconscious. The third bandit which had decided not to rush at her had already turned away and was now running as fast as he could to the east, trying to round the caravan and meet with the final two bandits.

---

Gregor turned to the woman now, about to thank her for the help, but she paid little heed to them and had already turned toward the fleeing bandit and began to chase him. Gregor, realizing the path they were taking, finally remembered the bowman. His eyes widening, he began to cry out in warning to the elf.

She had nearly already caught the bandit, preparing to thrust the staff into the man's back. Gregor once again heard the *twang* of the bow. The staff connected with the bandit, knocking him to the ground, but the arrow found its mark somehow. Against all odds, moving at a full sprint and 60 yards from the bowman, the elf took the arrow into the left shoulder.

Stunned by the development, the elf woman fell to one knee, staring at the bandit bowman. The other bandit was about halfway between her and the bowman, and both seemed stunned that the arrow had connected. The bandit that had been knocked down by the staff a moment ago scrambled up to his feet and began running toward the treeline.

Breaking the bowman's stupor, Jorba and eight other caravaners rushed them. The other bandit closer to the woman was still stunned and didn’t realize he was about to be under attack. The bowman began retreating toward the treeline and calling for his friend to run as well.

After a moment, he realized what was happening, and saw the man that was rushing toward him. Barely 10 yards away was a large man. In his left arm was a heavy looking club, but in his right he held a wooden chair. The bandit turned and began to run, but the man pulled back his arm and then threw the chair at the bandit. It knocked him over, and the large man walked up to him and stood over him.

Both confused and terrified, the bandit dropped his weapon, “I surrender! Just don’t kill me!” The large man smiled a bit, and then used his club to hit him on the side of the head. It didn’t appear to be a heavy blow, but the man was unconscious immediately.

---

Gregor and his group finally reached the woman, who was now standing back up. Speechless at first, it took him a moment to say, "H- ... Th- ... A-Are you alright?"

The elf actually looked at Gregor and the others now for the first time. After a few awkward moments of silence, she gripped the arrowshaft, braced herself, and quickly and deftly pulled the arrow out. Her face showed a painful grimace, but after a moment she responded, "Can any of you dress a wound?"

Gregor looked at the shoulder and the left arm, hanging limp by her side. "It looks like it's severed some tendons... We have medical materials in the wagons. Can you walk alright?"

"Yes" came an answer with a bit of haggard breathe, "Lead the way." She now used the staff as a walking stick with her right hand.

Jorba and his group had now joined them, and together he and Gregor told some of the younger men where to go fetch supplies. Jorba and several others then jogged off into the middle of the caravan to inform everyone of what had happened.

Gregor continued at a walking pace, and the elf followed, although he noted that her eyes darted around a bit. She was definitely cautious of whether to fully trust them or not.

Gregor had never interacted with an elf before, never even seen one. Normally they kept to themselves, not interacting with humans in most cases, and staying vast distances to the west in the depths of the Endless Woods.

He had heard stories of elves here in the east, but they were always about events that happened many years ago. He did not know of any elves seen in the last two hundred years, and his mind was racing trying to figure out what it could mean that an elf is right here, right now….


TO BE CONTINUED…