Tales of Ryka :Prologue

Amid the chaos of screams and clattering of weapons, Jorgen sat up. Or tried to. He found it rather hard, considering the lack of air in his lungs after he had fallen out of the wagon.

He managed to pull himself up, only to be immediately shoved back to the earth.

"Oomph," he gasped, the little air he had managed to regain stripped from him once more.

"Hey boss,"said the figure towering above Jorgen, " this one was on the wagon that got away. Maybe he knows the girl we was supposed to get."

"Keep your voice down you dullard," said a voice to Jorgen's side, "you're speaking loud enough for half the kingdom to hear you. How about it boy, you know the fancy looking lady in the wagon? Don't you dare lie to me." he smiled wickedly, as if he actually wanted Jorgen to lie to him, as if it would be more enjoyable that way.

There had been a 'fancy looking lady' as this man, who barely stood to the shoulders of the other man, had put it. But Jorgen didn't know her. He hadn't even talked to her, being too intimidated by the two burly guards that were also sitting in the wagon, hands almost perpetually on their swords. He was about to say as much when he heard a shrieking scream.

All three of them turned to the noise to see a woman who had escaped the cacophony of the other bandits, and was running past them. At least, that was her plan, Jorgen supposed. She didn't make it that far before the large man grabbed her with blinding speed, slitting her throat, the look of horror on her face turned to confusion as she fell to the ground, her scream silent.

The man, who Jorgen assumed to be the bandit leader, struck Jorgen hard across the cheek. "I asked you a question," he said, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke, " do you want me to let my friend Garret have you?" Jorgen shook his head, too afraid to be embarrassed at how much his body shook. "Good, now speak."

The chaos around the remaining wagons had subsided. Every other passenger was either dead or dying. Jorgen knew this was it. He knew they would kill him regardless, but he still held out hope for at least a merciful death. "Yes, there was a woman, dressed in some of the finest clothes I've seen, with two guards." One guard, Jorgen thought, remembering how, when the commotion had started, one of the guards had leaned out, only to be shot dead with a crossbow bolt, and had fallen to the ground, right before the wagon had pitched forward, throwing Jorgen out the back, and into this mess.

The man looked anything but merciful. He looked furious. "Blast it!" he yelled as he started kicking Jorgen in the ribs, " we plan for weeks only to come up emp-"

The kicking stopped. Jorgen looked up, the man was looking in puzzlement at a gleaming black blade that protruded from his chest. He fell to the ground, staring at nothing in particular.

The swordsman seemed unconcerned by the stunned bandits that surrounded him. As he turned Jorgen saw a tattered cape flutter at his back. The rest of him was dressed in dark clothing, with burnished gray pauldrons on his shoulders, and braces around his arms and lower legs. Besides this he wore no armour. "Don't you know it's not sporting to kick a man while he's down?" he asked turning to look at them, his stance almost casual. Almost.

The hulking man known as Garret shook himself, "He killed the boss, get him" then he lunged at the man, only to have his head separated from his shoulders.

The other bandits hesitated, only for a second. But in that second, three more men fell to the ground, spikes protruding from their necks. Another newcomer dropped from the tree, making no noise as his feet hit the ground. This man was cloaked, but was too tall to be a woman. He stood, poised for action as the bandits turned to him. "Same dance, different ball," said the man smoothly, stalking forward as the men found their courage and began to attack them both, " how many times have we done this in the last fortnight, Grei?"

"Id say at least five," said the man, cutting down two men in quick succession, his blade a blur of metal and flesh, alternating between clanging against steel, and short lived screeching of defeated men. The other men flew gracefully through the ranks, his short blades leaving death in their wake.

Something seemed to break in the bandits, seeing so many of their comrades slain so casually, and they all began to flee almost at once into the surrounding foliage. The two men let them run, cutting down any brave enough to stay.

When the road was cleared Jorgen's saviors turned to him. He felt a brief flash of fear, but they both sheathed their weapons, and the cloaked one began to retrieve his spikes from the dead men strewn across the ground.

"You said you were with a woman." it wasn't a question, but Jorgen nodded anyway. "Which town were you headed to?"

"Crossings."

"How far is that from here?" he asked.

"About three days walking, I suppose." Jorgen said, no longer trembling.

The man called Grei turned to look at the other. "Every single time we get close this keeps happening. I'm going to skewer whoever thought of putting us in a Guard position when we get back to the tower."

Both him and the cloaked figure began to hurry down the road, leaving Jorgen still laying in the dust to wonder what had just happened to him