Chapter 21 — Black Hollow

Chapter 21: Chapter 21 — Black Hollow

Chapter 21 — Black Hollow

The road ended before noon.

Beyond the western ridge, the old cart track narrowed between pines and disappeared beneath years of fallen needles; the horses could still pass, but branches caught at saddles and forced the riders into a single line.

Simon led without hesitation, for he and Adam had marked the return route with cuts low on tree trunks, small enough to escape notice unless someone knew where to look.

Christopher saw the first mark only after Simon pointed to it. The marks might reveal their trail, but getting lost would be worse.

They had brought eleven horses for twelve people, so Mabel rode behind one of the apprentices and complained whenever the narrow trail made them strike a low branch. Christopher’s body handled the long hours in the saddle better than it had at the beginning of the journey north, though his legs still ached when they stopped.

Godfrey allowed only one proper rest.

They ate cold bread beneath the trees while Walter checked the horses. No fires were lit. The northern wind could not reach far into the forest, but the damp cold remained beneath Christopher’s cloak.

"How much farther is the camp from here?" he asked.

Simon swallowed before answering. "We should reach the lookout point before dark."

"You’re not certain the trail still leads there?"

"It should, if the trail remains clear past the ridge."

Adam studied the trees behind them. "And if no one followed our marks in the other direction."

Godfrey sent him back along the trail for half a mile, and the apprentice returned without finding anyone.

They rode again.

Christopher had expected the forest to feel empty; instead, every broken twig made him search between the trunks. Black Hollow knew Dragonwatch had been occupied, and the three escaped bandits knew Godfrey was a Silver Knight, so if their chief had any sense, he would place watchers along the eastern approach.

They found the first watcher shortly before sunset.

Simon stopped so suddenly that Walter’s horse nearly walked into his.

A strip of red cloth hung from a branch ahead. It could have been rubbish caught by the wind, except it was tied too neatly.

Godfrey dismounted and moved off the trail, returning several minutes later with a small iron bell in his hand. A cord ran from it into the brush, where someone had stretched the line across the path at ankle height.

"Was that cord hanging there when you scouted the trail?" Walter asked.

Simon shook his head.

"Then they know which direction we will come from," Christopher said.

"They know which direction Dragonwatch lies," Godfrey replied. "That’s not the same thing."

They led the horses around the line without touching it. Half a mile farther on, Adam found fresh bootprints leaving the trail, climbing north before turning back toward Black Hollow.

The lookout had already gone.

"We have lost surprise," Walter said.

"Not all of it." Godfrey checked the darkening sky. "They know someone crossed their warning line. They do not know how many."

Christopher turned to Simon.

"Is there another way into the camp?"

"A charcoal road from the south," Simon said. "Open ground for the final quarter mile."

"What does the northern approach look like?"

"Steep, but passable on foot."

They left the trail before darkness and concealed the horses in a shallow hollow, with one apprentice left to guard them. Mabel objected when Godfrey ordered her to stay there too.

"You brought me because people may be wounded."

"After we hold the camp," Godfrey said.

"The prisoners may die before we take the camp."

"You may die before reaching them if you rush downhill alone."

Mabel searched Christopher’s face for support.

He had none to give. "Stay with the horses until someone comes for you."

She muttered something about nobles and Knights sharing one damaged brain between them, then began checking her medical bag.

The others continued on foot.

Night fell before they reached the lookout Simon had used, and they crawled the last part of the slope to lie beneath wet brush overlooking Black Hollow.

The settlement filled a narrow depression between three wooded ridges, old charcoal pits scarring the slopes like black circles. A timber wall blocked the southern road, while a line of sharpened stakes covered the easier ground to the east, and the northern side rose steeply behind the buildings.

There were more fires than Simon had reported.

Men carried sacks toward two wagons near the southern gate while others dragged crates from the largest storehouse, and every few minutes an armed lookout walked the top of the timber wall.

"It looks like they’re leaving," Christopher whispered.

"Preparing to," Godfrey said.

Near the northern slope, eight people sat inside a fenced storage yard with two guards stationed outside it; Christopher could not make out faces, but none of the people inside carried weapons.

One of them rose when a bandit approached with a bucket. The bandit struck the fence with a stick, and the person sat again.

"Are those the captives Simon saw from the ridge?" Christopher asked.

Simon nodded.

The hide workers occupied a shed beside the fenced yard, stretched skins hanging beneath its roof. A man worked at a scraping beam even though darkness had fallen, watched by another guard.

Christopher counted the armed figures he could see and lost track at seventeen.

"Which one is their Bronze Knight?"

Walter pointed toward a two-story house near the center, where three men stood outside its door. One wore a mail shirt and carried a broad axe without a shield.

"There, beside the larger fire," Godfrey said.

Christopher could not sense rank at this distance, but the man’s posture looked relaxed while everyone else moved around him rather than making him move.

Godfrey watched for several minutes. "Bronze."

"Can you kill him before the others react?" Christopher asked.

Walter eyed him for a moment.

"That sounded colder than I meant."

"Yes," Godfrey said. "The difficulty is killing him before his men kill the prisoners or scatter into the forest."

Godfrey could defeat every ranked fighter together, but the bandits could still scatter, shoot from rooftops or threaten the captives.

"We can’t use fire," Christopher said.

"Not unless you want to burn the people you came to recover," Walter replied.

"I know. Smoke would blind the prisoners before it drove out the bandits."

Godfrey motioned for them to withdraw beneath the ridge.

They gathered in a hollow where the campfires could no longer be seen, and Simon drew Black Hollow in the soil again, adding the new wagons and guards.

"We attack before dawn," Godfrey said. "Walter takes five apprentices down the northern slope. Open the prisoner yard first. Do not fight toward the center until those people are behind you."

Walter nodded.

"Simon and Adam go with him. Show him the descent."

That left Godfrey with Christopher and two apprentices, while the final apprentice remained with Mabel and the horses.

"We take the southern gate?" Christopher asked.

"I take the southern gate. You remain behind me."

"You come with me and two apprentices."

"You remain behind me," Godfrey repeated. "Do not chase anyone into the huts."

Walter studied the map. "If the chief sees only you at the gate, he will bring everyone he has."

"That’s the intention. The rest depends on whether they panic."

Godfrey needed the southern defenders focused on him while Walter reached the captives, so he ordered them to let anyone fleeing east go; chasing bandits through the forest would split their small force and invite an ambush.

"Keep watching the camp," Christopher said.

"Good. Wake me if anyone moves toward the prisoners."

They returned to the horses and slept in turns. Christopher’s watch came in the middle of the night, and he sat beneath a pine with Edmund’s sword across his knees, listening to Mabel breathe beneath her blanket.

He did not sleep after Walter woke him.

They ate before moving, though the bread stuck in Christopher’s dry mouth. Mabel checked the bandages in her bag again and made every fighter show her where they carried their own.

"If you are bleeding," she said, "press cloth against it. Do not pull out an arrow unless I tell you."

One apprentice nodded.

"What if it is in my eye?"

"Then you may leave it there and complain."

Walter led his group north while the sky remained black, and Christopher watched Simon disappear between the trees, wondering whether leaving Dragonwatch with only four apprentices had been a mistake. It was too late to change the plan now.

Godfrey waited until the eastern sky began to pale, then walked down the southern charcoal road in full view of the wall.

Christopher and the two apprentices followed thirty paces behind him.

The lookout saw them almost immediately.

"Riders!" he shouted.

"No horses," another man called.

A bell began ringing inside Black Hollow.

Godfrey did not hurry.

The gate stood between sharpened posts; four men appeared on the wall above it with crossbows, and more gathered behind the timber doors.

"Stop there!" someone shouted.

Godfrey continued walking.

The first bolt struck the road beside his boot; the second hit his shield and broke. He raised it only slightly.

Christopher drew Edmund’s sword while the two apprentices brought their shields together in front of him.

"I said stop!"

Godfrey reached the final fifty paces.

Silver light spread across his sword.

The men on the wall hesitated.

One man, recognizable to Christopher as the crossbowman from Dragonwatch by his patched gray coat, had seen that light before, and he stepped back.

"It’s him," he said.

The warning came too late.

Godfrey moved.

Christopher had watched the Silver Knight fight warthogs and orcs, but he had never seen him cross open ground with nothing to protect him. One instant he stood on the road; the next, he struck the gate.

The sound rolled through the hollow.

One timber door tore from its upper hinge, and the beam behind it snapped, striking two defenders to the ground. Before the broken door finished falling, Godfrey had already passed through the opening.

"Forward!" one apprentice shouted.

Christopher ran with them.

Bolts came from the wall: one struck an apprentice’s shield, another passed close enough for Christopher to hear it.

Inside the gate, Godfrey met the first Black Iron fighter.

The man raised a spear and shouted a Combat Skill, dark light gathering around its point.

Godfrey cut through the weapon, the man’s mail and the man beneath it with a single blow.

The remaining defenders broke away from him.

Some ran toward the central house, others climbed the wall stairs or fled between buildings, and men shouted for the chief until a horn answered from the northern side of the camp.

Walter had reached the prisoner yard.

The broad-axe fighter came out of the central house, fastening his armor as Bronze Essence flared along his arms.

He saw the ruined gate, the dead Black Iron fighter and Godfrey standing inside his settlement.

The chief’s face tightened when he saw the Silver Knight coming.

Then someone behind him shouted, "Take the prisoners!"

The Bronze Knight turned toward the northern slope.

Godfrey started after him.

"Stay close," he ordered.

Christopher tightened his grip on Edmund’s sword and followed as Black Hollow erupted around them.

The Bronze Knight ran toward the prisoner yard with Godfrey behind him, Christopher following while the two apprentices struggled to stay close around him. Men crossed between the buildings ahead, some carrying weapons, others surprised without boots or armor and searching for somewhere to hide.

An arrow struck the ground near Christopher.

"Shields!" he shouted.

The apprentices closed around him, and a second arrow hit one shield hard enough to turn the young man sideways. Christopher scanned the roof of the nearest house and saw a bowman reaching for another shaft.

Godfrey did not turn; silver light left his sword in a narrow arc and broke against the edge of the roof. Tiles exploded upward and the bowman vanished behind them. By the time Christopher looked back, Godfrey had already reached the central yard.

The bandit chief stopped running and turned to meet him, Bronze Essence spreading from the head of his axe in a dark red haze as he swung with both hands.

Godfrey caught the blow on his sword, and the two weapons remained locked for one breath before the chief’s boots slid backward.

He struck a second time, faster than Christopher could properly follow, but Godfrey turned the axe aside and cut across the man’s mail. Metal rings scattered across the yard, and blood appeared beneath them.

The chief stumbled away, shocked more than hurt.

"North yard!" he shouted. "Kill the prisoners!"

No answer came.

Walter had reached them first.

From the far side of the camp came the crash of breaking wood, followed by Simon’s voice calling for the captives to stay down. Two bandits ran out of the passage ahead; one clutched a wounded arm, while the other looked behind him as he ran and collided with a water trough.

The chief heard the shouting, looked toward the eastern stakes and turned to run. Godfrey struck him across the back.

The axe fell from the man’s hands, and he dropped to one knee, reaching for a knife — but Godfrey kicked him between the shoulders, and the Bronze Knight hit the ground face-first.

"Yield," Godfrey said.

The chief rolled and slashed upward. Godfrey’s blade entered beneath his chin, and the man stopped moving.

Christopher reached the yard several seconds later with his lungs burning, the two apprentices beside him, one breathing as badly as he was. Godfrey had already killed the Bronze chief.

Three bandits appeared at the end of the street. One wore a leather coat reinforced with metal strips, Black Iron Essence gathering around his spear.

"There!" he shouted.

The other two rushed with him.

Godfrey met the Black Iron fighter; Christopher and the apprentices faced the others.

One bandit carried a wood axe and swung at the apprentice on Christopher’s left, forcing the young man behind his shield, while the other came directly for Christopher with a short sword.

Christopher stepped back and nearly caught his heel on the dead chief’s arm.

The bandit lunged; Edmund’s sword turned the blade away, and the impact jarred Christopher’s wrist. He cut in return, but the man withdrew before the edge reached him.

The bandit was not ranked, but he was older, stronger and far more experienced in actual fights.

He attacked again.

Christopher blocked too high, and the sword point scraped across his mail, tearing his coat beneath the ribs. He felt the impact but no pain.

The man saw that his blade had failed to enter, and before he could recover, Christopher struck him across the face with the guard of Edmund’s sword, then kicked his knee and drove him down. He raised the sword but stopped when the man threw his weapon aside.

"Enough!"

Christopher held the point against his chest. "Stay down."

Beside him, the apprentice with the shield had taken the wood axe on its rim, and the second apprentice thrust from the side, driving his spear into the attacker’s stomach.

The Black Iron fighter was already dead at Godfrey’s feet.

Another horn sounded from the north, this time in three short blasts.

Walter’s signal.

The captives were free.

"Move," Godfrey ordered.

They headed toward the northern yard, Christopher forcing his prisoner to walk ahead of him with both hands on his head.

The camp had begun to break.

Bandits ran toward the eastern stakes in groups of two and three; some threw down weapons when they saw the chief’s body, while others climbed the palisade rather than approach Godfrey.

Godfrey let them flee.

At the prisoner yard, Walter stood inside the broken gate with blood running down one side of his face, three apprentices guarding the freed captives while Simon and Adam fought near the hide shed beside the other two.

A Black Iron bandit had cornered them against a rack of stretched skins. He thrust at Adam, forcing the apprentice backward, and when Simon attacked from the side, the bandit caught him and drove him into a wooden post.

Walter started toward them.

Two arrows came from the roof above the yard.

The first struck the dirt; the second entered an apprentice’s shoulder above his shield, and the young man screamed as he fell.

Walter changed direction, placing his shield over him as another arrow struck its face.

Godfrey raised his sword.

"Alive!" Christopher shouted.

The word left his mouth before he knew whether the rooftop bowmen would be useful, but Godfrey adjusted his blow — silver light cut through the supports beneath the roof edge instead of the men above it.

The overhang collapsed with both bowmen. One landed among broken boards and did not rise; the other rolled clear, saw Godfrey approaching, and dropped his bow.

"Down," Godfrey said.

The man obeyed.

Christopher reached the wounded apprentice and recognized Ellis Ward. Blood surrounded the arrow shaft, but the bolt had passed through the flesh above the armpit rather than entering the chest.

"Do not pull it out," Christopher said.

Ellis gritted his teeth. "Mabel said."

"Good."

Walter left one apprentice shielding him and joined Simon and Adam.

The Black Iron fighter tried to retreat, but Simon caught his ankle with the hook of a fallen pole. The man stumbled, recovered, and found Walter in front of him; Walter’s first blow broke the bandit’s spear, and his second opened the man’s throat, ending the fight around the yard.

Godfrey gave the signal for Mabel, and the apprentice guarding the horses would bring her once the road was clear; until then, Walter bound Ellis’s shoulder without disturbing the arrow.

Christopher counted the captives.

Nine people had been held inside the yard: four women, two men old enough to have gray in their beards, and three younger ones, including a boy who could not have been more than fourteen. All looked thin; one woman had a swollen eye, and the older man from the hide shed carried cuts across both hands.

"Are there more bandits hiding among the huts?" Christopher asked.

The man shook his head. "Not alive."

Christopher left the question for later.

Shouting came from the central street.

"My lord!" one apprentice called.

A bandit approached with empty hands raised above his head, wearing a dark coat over a mail vest, his sword belt empty of its blade. Blood marked his mouth, but he did not appear seriously wounded.

Godfrey moved between him and Christopher.

"I surrender," the man said.

"On your knees."

He obeyed slowly. "Your Silver Knight killed Malric. That makes me the ranking man left here."

"Then order the others to surrender," Christopher said.

"Most who would listen are dead or running."

The man’s eyes moved toward Godfrey’s sword.

"Spare me, and I can give you something worth more than this camp."

"What could you possibly offer now?"

"You think we chose to count your wagons?" He smiled through the blood on his teeth. "A northern noble paid us. Wanted every new lord watched. Where you settled. How many Knights you brought. Which roads—"

Godfrey’s sword entered his throat without warning.

The bandit’s hands were still raised, his eyes widening, when Godfrey pulled the blade sideways and the man collapsed onto the mud.

The yard fell silent.

Christopher stared at Godfrey; the apprentices beside him had heard it too. Ellis lay several paces away with Walter holding pressure around the arrow, and the freed captives had seen the killing, though Christopher could not know whether they understood the words.

Godfrey wiped his blade on the dead man’s coat.

"He surrendered before Sir Godfrey killed him," one apprentice said quietly.

Godfrey faced him. "No northern noble sent these men."

The apprentice’s face changed.

Godfrey turned to Christopher. "Did you hear one named?"

Dragonwatch lacked the strength to accuse a northern noble without proof, and the bandit might just as easily have named an innocent House to buy his life.

"No," Christopher said. His voice sounded distant. "I heard nothing."

One after another, the apprentices agreed.

Walter said nothing; he kept his hands around Ellis’s wound and watched Godfrey with an expression Christopher could not read.

Mabel arrived minutes later and began shouting before she reached the yard.

"I told you not to pull the arrow out before Mabel saw it."

"Nobody touched it, my lord," Ellis said.

"Then at least one person here listened to an order."

She cut away his sleeve, examined the wound and ordered two men to hold him. Ellis stopped trying to make jokes when she pushed the arrow through far enough to break off the head.

Christopher moved away from his screams.

By sunrise, Black Hollow belonged to them.

Nine bandits lay dead inside the settlement, including the Bronze chief and four Black Iron fighters; seven had surrendered, and the rest had escaped through the forest. Godfrey refused pursuit.

The attack party had suffered no deaths. Ellis’s shoulder was the worst wound; Simon could barely move one arm after striking the post, and Walter needed three stitches above his ear. Several others carried cuts and bruises.

The rescued captives sat together beneath the hide shed roof, eating food taken from the bandits’ storehouse.

Christopher stood in the central yard while the bodies were gathered.

Godfrey’s presence had decided the fight far more quickly than Black Hollow’s numbers suggested. Christopher took in the second-in-command’s body. A northern noble had paid to have Dragonwatch watched, but the man’s name had died with him.

"What do we do with the camp and the prisoners now?" Walter asked.

Christopher considered the frightened captives, the bound bandits and the supplies filling Black Hollow’s wagons.

"Now we find out who can return with us."