Four of the guards approached and began to inspect the wagons. The commander realized that this meant a few stayed behind, there would be no way to strike them all down at once. He shook his head slightly. He was grateful his men were at least armored under their robes. He strode over to the guards remaining behind under the guise of finding out about the departure tax.
“It’s… to cover the cost of keeping the wagons safe. While you’re trading, you know? We patrol the grounds outside the city walls… for your safety,” the lying guard offered.
The commander didn’t believe any of it. He looked at the other two guards and saw confusion on their faces. His fingers ached to grab his dagger and slit this man’s throat, but what of the other two? He realized he could not take all three men without their raising the alarm.
“I see. Yes, that does make sense. I did see some of your company patrolling the wagons. It seems we did not pay this particular tax. Very well then, how much is the departure tax? I do not wish to withhold something due to you,” the commander said.
“It’s… based on the size of your caravan and the value of your supplies. Some merchants deal in ivory and precious gems, and so they pay more. This is why we must search your wagons, to determine the cost,” the lying guard continued.
“And if we can’t pay?” the commander asked.
“Then… we... confiscate your goods,” another of the guards joined in on the lying.
The commander turned back to his men and yelled, “They seek to know what we carry. Show them, show them quickly!”
And with that, he turned and slit the throat of the lying guard. The commander moved with great speed and was upon the second liar before anyone could react. The dagger found its way to the man’s neck with similar accuracy. As he turned on the third man, the guard managed to react. The guard withdrew as he reached for his horn, the commander pouncing. They both fell to the ground, the commander doing his best to keep the horn from the man’s lips, his other hand trying to cut short the guard’s life. For his part, he was tough to pin. The guard was unable to draw his sword, and so did his best to keep the dagger away while trying to pull the horn to his mouth.
Meanwhile, Fezzle had seized on the commander’s meaning and grabbed the bow and arrows. From his vantage, he could see only one guard. While he was certain he could put the arrow through the guard’s eye, he knew that would leave three more to blow their horns. He needed a better vantage point. He crept away, hoping to not be seen. His luck was with him and he made it to the caravan’s edge without issue. Along the way he made sure that those he saw understood the commander’s meaning. He instructed the one archer he came across to head to the other edge so that they might pincher the enemy.
Once at the edge, Fakir made his way to line up with the inspecting guards. In the distance, he saw the other archer. He held up two fingers, and pointed to the guards. He hoped the man’s prowess with the bow was equal to his own. He drew an arrow, so did the other man. So far, so good. He lined up his shot, pulled the bow taut, and then released. The arrow found its way to a guard’s neck. The guard next to him turned and saw his dead comrade. Before the man could pull up his horn Fred quickly nocked another arrow, aimed, and fired. It too hit its mark, through the man’s eye.
The other archer was apparently not his equal. The first arrow hit the man’s shoulder. The second went wide. The guard managed to pull his horn and blow a short blast before the third arrow finally went through his neck. The other guard was already running and blowing his horn. Fergus and the other archer fired arrows after him, but he zigged and zagged as he ran and they had trouble hitting him. Finally they both stopped; better to save the arrows for the impending fight.
Zand watched his commander kill those men in cold blood. Regardless of their intent, they had not drawn their weapons or blown their horns. He watched the commander finally wrest the horn from the guard and begin to beat the man’s face with it. It was savage and vile. He could not condone such actions. Now was not the time though. He understood that there would be more men coming. Well-fed men, no less. They needed a plan if they were to survive.
The commander finally stopped his assault and looked at what was previously a man’s face. His breathing was hard and ragged. Without turning, he spoke.
“Zand, I told you to be ready. To use your fire when you saw them pull their horns. This one,” the commander spit out the words, “pulled out his horn.” He turned his head and looked at Zand out of the corner of his eye. “Why didn’t you do as you were told?”
“You were too close together,” Zand said, truthfully. “I didn’t want to hit you, too” Zand lied.
The commander breathed heavily for several moments before nodding his head gently.
“I suppose that would have been bad,” the commander said, seeming to have bought the lie. “Alright, we have bigger problems now. Do you have any magic that might save us? Or are you just along for the good eatin’?”
“I do have an idea, though I don’t think you’ll like it,” Zand said. “We’re obviously not winning this fight, but we might be able to retreat. If we sacrifice the wagons, we can leave them as a roadblock.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it. But for the sake of arguing, let’s say we do it. They’ll just move them. It won’t slow them that much,” the commander said.
“Which is why I’ll light them on fire,” Zand said. “We turn the wagons sideways, cut the horses loose and take any supplies we have left. I then say the magic words and foom! The heat will be too much for them to get close to try to break a way through.”
The commander considered the plan. He didn’t like it, but it was probably better than anything he could think of. He tried coming up with another plan just in case, but nothing was anywhere near as good.
“Alright, we’ll go with your plan. Get ready. I’ll tell the men,” the commander said.
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