The Last Dryad

|04| The Bandits

Arron

Arron was out getting water from a stream near the caravan when he heard a commotion back at the main wagons.

He ran back with a powerful gait. Had something happened to the wagons? The cargo overturned?

He was faced with a completely different scene than what he had imagined. Two young girls were by the main wagons- one of them supporting the other who looked sick. Her face was colored an angry red, and her eyes were shut tightly. He barely saw the rise and fall of her chest.

What were they doing here? Didn't they know how dangerous bandit caravans were for young women? It was one of the few things that Arron didn't like about traveling with Talb. People who wandered into camp weren't treated well... and that was being polite.

Arron saw Talb walk towards them, and the wagons stopped momentarily. His face looked disconcerted.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Talb asked roughly, pulling himself up to his full height. He was putting on a show for them, trying to intimidate the women.

The one who was supporting the sick one laid the other girl on the ground and stood up to face him. She had some serious guts, that was for sure.

"I am a Meliae," the girl said, pulling back her cloak from her face to expose her fiery red-purple hair and markings. "My people were slaughtered the eve last, and my friend and I are fleeing for our lives." She stuck her chin up in defiance. "You can do what you will with me, but promise me that you will treat her. She is... sick."

The girl paused, looking down at her friend with worried eyes, before sticking her chin up again.

"I believe that she severely overheated. If you cannot help her now, she may die."

Talb stared at the insane Meliae before him. He was probably having the same reaction as Arron; disbelief. What kind of dryad marched up to a thief caravan and demanded things from them? She had to be absolutely, completely out of her mind. Talb could flay her alive. Although, Arron thought, the defiant spark in her eyes spoke volumes about her abilities. Perhaps the rumors about the reclusive Meliae were true and they could break things with their mere hands.

The girl on the ground let out a pitiful sound. Arron's felt compassion before he stopped himself. What had gotten into him? He was a bandit, and not to mention a dran. He couldn't afford to think that way.

Talb shook his head. "I shouldn't be doing this," he grumbled. Then he motioned to the closest men near him; Eel and Yurok, two of the better ones in the lot.

"Take the dryads and hide them in one of the wagons," Talb instructed. "Make sure no harm comes to them. If I catch any one of you laying a finger on them, there'll be half rations for a week." Then he gave the girl an intrigued look. "What's your name, Meliae?"

"Laurelin," she told him, following behind Eel towards one of the carts. She gestured to the dryad beside her. "And this is Silla."

Arron paused. Where did he know that name from? He had heard it somewhere, he was certain. But where? He stepped forward from his place in the trees, and walked towards the wagons. They would need to make things look normal if whoever was following the dryads came to the caravan.

"Ah, there you are Arron." Talb said. "You've come back just in time. You have some medicinal skills, don't you lad?" Talb bumped his shoulder.

Arron pulled himself together. No one knew he had been spying. "Yes sir, I do. Is someone injured?"

Talb gave him a dry look. "I know good and well that you were listening to the whole thing. No use trying to act like you don't. Now can you help those two dryads or not?"

Arron's face flushed. He changed the subject, not wanting to accept until he knew a little more. "I was surprised you didn't throw them out to their pursuers. I thought that we didn't allow anyone into the band from the road?"

"They surprised me," Talb told him, his eyes taking on an unusual look. "And precious little does that anymore. Whether they learn enough to keep them alive is another issue altogether. But for now..." he trailed off. He seemed to soften the tiniest bit. "Well, I'm not completely heartless, boy."

This was a completely new side of Talb. Arron decided that he needed to keep the Meliae around. Maybe she could keep Talb from being so harsh. It didn't seem like she was someone to back down from a confrontation, unlike some of the men in the camp.

"I'll help them," Arron told him. "Tell me where to go."

"Second wagon," Talb motioned with his hand, turning back to other duties.

Arron turned to go, but before he could leave to see to the dryads' medical needs, a large mob of men approached the caravan, carrying weapons and wearing scowls.

It's a regular party today.

"What do you want?" Talb growled at the lot of men whose eyes scanned the wagons like they were hiding fugitives.

"Did two dryads run this way?" A filthy man asked, his yellowed teeth standing out from his face. The mob stood behind him yelling something like a chant. They had to be talking about the Lilliate dryads, but as to why... he wasn't sure. All of them were covered in shabby, poor clothing, and the stench of them caused Arron to gag into his shirt.

These were the men that had chased those poor girls? Forced them to plead with bandits?

No one deserved that.

Talb exuded the deadly confidence that had made him such a good bandit leader.

"No one has run by our camp but you," he said gratingly, "And let me say... this is a very unwelcome intrusion."

Talb flicked out his left pointer finger, which was a secret signal for the rest of the bandits to assume defensive positions. They all moved into lithe, athletic stances, hands on weapons.

Talb smiled unpleasantly. "As you can see, our numbers greatly outweigh yours. So, you can leave now, and I'll forget that this ever happened, or you can stay and we will forget that you ever happened."

Arron grimaced at the violent threat. Maybe there was more than one thing that he didn't like about the way the bandits did things. He couldn't change it, though. It was this or life as a spited city dran.

The mob men cursed and grumbled among themselves, but slowly they left under Talb's hawk like glare.

"Get to it, boy," Talb whispered under his breath to Arron. "I don't want them dying on me before we hear their story."

"Right, right." Arron hurried away to the wagon, watching the last of the mob walk away as he lifted the curtain and let it fall behind him.