Banros led the trio south, away from the sea, and civilization. They kept off the roads at first, but after three days there were no more roads to keep off of. Or, if there were, they were ancient things. Too overgrown to make travel any easier. Stretching only a few miles, before disappearing again beneath centuries of shifting dirt.

Jeanette had considered abandoning Banros the moment they were clear of the city. Unfortunately, she’d succeeded in convincing Alger he would die if he broke his word. Much as Jeanette hated the savage soldier, she didn’t want to leave him behind. His brute strength was too useful in traveling the wilds. But neither did she want to put the idea in his head that her spells could be fake. Besides, Banros wasn’t wrong in thinking there might be booty in the ruins.

The wealthy and powerful of Brim had crafted sprawling miniature cities for themselves. They competed with one another to build in the most far-flung, exotic locals. Then, as their empire collapsed, they all fled back to their homeland. Now, without Brimese infrastructure, the wilderness had reclaimed much that had once been civilization. And for anyone skilled enough, and lucky enough, there was treasure for the taking.

If this worked out, Jeanette would have enough money to get herself out of the country. Back to Rotain. Once she was home, she knew how to disappear. With the booty from a city-villa, she could live in luxury as her memory faded from Pestor Ulric’s mind. And even if they found nothing, a few weeks in the wilderness would let her trail grow cold.

The travel was hard going. Banros was a better hunter than either Jeanette or Alger—though not by much. Jeanette envied the other two their sensible clothes. She’d never had a chance to change her gown. It was so tattered and wet with muck that she might as well be naked for all the warmth it provided. All three were in a sorry state by the time Banros called out:

“There she is!”

Weariness forgotten, Jeanette surged up the hill they were climbing, Alger on her heels. At the peak, she studied the valley below. What had once been the grounds was now obstructed by dense growth.  But a handful of red roofs stuck out in the foliage. As they studied at the valley below, details began to take shape. There were dozens of small clearings, and structures with collapsed, or moss-covered roofs. Banros’ map was in his hands, and he flicked his eyes between it, and the scene before them.

“That large empty space is probably the southern courtyard. While that one beyond it should be the reflecting pool, I think. I don’t see the temple dome at all…”

“Prolly fell in.” Alger said. “Domes fall in easy.” Banros was too engrossed in his survey to hear the soldier.

“Those trees over there look different. That probably used to be the orchard…” he continued.

Jeanette’s attention trailed off. She’d known the ruins would be large. Villa-cities needed to be. They housed all the comforts their masters would find in a bustling metropolis. But this was a palace beyond her imagining. Even at a glance, it was clear that the outer edges were miles apart. The sheer presence of it was overwhelming. She felt small.

Once the initial rush of excitement wore off, the three made camp. Jeanette suggested setting up below, in one of the buildings with an intact roof. But the other two overruled her, opting instead for a flat patch of earth back down the hill. Out of sight of the ruins. Banros and Alger were willing to brave the ghosts and hexes in daylight. They didn’t intend to be anywhere near the ruins in the dark. Jeanette wanted to argue the point, but held her tongue. A little discomfort was a worthwhile exchange to maintain the fiction that magic was a fearsome thing.

The next morning they ventured back up the hill, and down into the ruins. Banros cut a long branch from a tree, and shaved it of excess growth. Before entering each building, Jeanette made a show of declaring it free of curses. Then Banros thumped the floors and ceiling with his awkward device. The precaution saved them from two floors that collapsed into the cellars below.

The party first searched through several of the small, outlying buildings. When those proved devoid of valuables, Banros cut across the grounds. They passed a dozen smaller buildings as he led the group to where the temple ought to be. The dome had collapsed, as Alger predicted. But the walls were intact enough to protect the interior form shifting dirt. The trio spent hours excavating fallen stones, uncovering the temple’s altar, and vestibule. Both were intact, but neither contained anything more valuable than painted pottery fragments. The tile mosaic built into the floor could have been worth a fortune. But there was no way to move it without an army of workmen, carts, and horses. The mood was somber as the three marched back to camp.

A few modest discoveries did little to raise their spirits over the next two days. A torn painting, a set of bent silverware, and a gold-hemmed robe weren’t worthless. But after twelve days of grueling travel, several more of searching, and another long journey back ahead of them, these otherwise decent treasures felt like a pittance.

On the fourth day the party ventured into the cellar beneath the kitchens. Each carried a rudimentary torch Banros had taught them to make the night before. As their search dragged on, the men’s fear of ghosts and curses had subsided. They wandered freely within sight of each other, kicking debris and old furniture aside. They scanned for anything that glittered in the torchlight. At this point, Jeanette would have gotten excited over a bit of colorful fabric.

“A floor-door!” Alger called, breaking the morose silence that had settled over the group. It was the only thing any of them had found that day. He clasped trapdoor’s heavy iron ring and heaved. The door creaked, but held shut.

“Locked.” he grunted. Banros came over and crouched to take a closer look, lowering his torch to the floor.

“No keyhole, or any latch on this side. It’s probably barred from below.”

“Foolheaded way to make a door.” Alger said.

“It’s likely an escape route.” Jeanette replied “Below is a tunnel a half mile or so long. It would lead to a cave or a tree hollow that lets out into the woods.” Banros stood, and shook his head.

“If it’s an escape tunnel, they would keep it open until they needed it. And they’d only need it if they were attacked. We haven’t seen any signs of violence here. Not so much as a discarded weapon, or a singed roof.” he said.

“Better to open and see than sit and guess while the torches burn.” Alger said. “We searched a smithy yesterday. It had pry bars and hammers a-plenty. In a quarter hour we can have the floor-door open. Lock or no.”

The three went to the smithy together, and retrieved the tools. It took no time at all to pry and smash apart the old door, revealing a heavy iron bar on the other side. It was simple enough to slide the bar out of place, and it fell to the ground below with a loud clatter.

There were no steps, just a straight passage leading down. Banros dropped his torch. It landed 17 feet below in a narrow, natural cavern, with a sandy floor. Beside it were the fallen door bar, and a wooden ladder that had fallen flat.

“C’mon, witch. We’ll lower you and you can put up the ladder.” Banros said.

“Fuck no you’re not lowering me into that hole.” Jeanette replied, indignant. “You go.”

“You’re the lightest one. It makes sense for you to go first, since we’ll need to lower you by hand.” Banros said.

“That ladder is an ancient wreck! What happens when it collapses before I can come back up?”Jeanette asked.

“You’re pretty light yourself” said Alger, gesturing his head towards Banros.

“I thought you two had to have my back.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to get ourselves killed on your whims!” Jeanette said, with defensive swiftness.

“Fine. Lower me.” said Banros with exaggerated resignation. “At least I know you can’t leave me if the ladder breaks.”

Jeanette and Alger knelt by the pit and each clasped one of Banros’ hands in theirs. They lowered themselves until they were lying on their stomachs. Arms dangling through the doorway. Jeanette tried not to look as though she was struggling to keep her grip. Once they’d lowered Banros as far as they could, he called up.

“Alright…let me go!” They both did. The fall was longer than Jeanette would have guessed. Even in sand, the thump of his body hitting the ground was ugly.

“You are good?” Alger called.

“Fine” came Banros’ testy reply. “My fucking feet and ass hurt, but nothing broke.”

“Raise up the ladder then!” shouted Alger.

It was awkward. The ladder was large and heavy, and the corridor below was narrow. Maneuvering it into position and hefting it up took Banros several minutes. Alger spent that time shouting unhelpful instructions down to his struggling companion. Once it was finally raised, Alger descended cautiously. The last thing they needed was to destroy their only way out of the hole.

When Jeanette reached the bottom, Banros was pacing. He strode around the ladder with his torch, with one hand on the wall.

“There’s only one path forward.” he said once he’d made a full circuit. He handed his torch to Alger. “I’ll stay in front testing the ground and looking for holes. Alger, you keep that light high and make sure I can see where I’m going. And both of you, keep your eyes peeled.”

Jeanette chafed at being given orders, but held her tongue. The plan kept Banros out in front. That was fine with her.

Nooks and crevices filled the passage walls, some large enough to hide a grown man. But the path forward was narrow. Broad shouldered Alger had to twist himself to avoid knocking elbows against the stone. By contrast, the floor was more or less even, excepting a few gentle slopes. The journey was not difficult. But Jeanette felt a growing sense of disquiet as the passage went on.

She could sense the others’ growing tension as well. They’d expected the passage to be less than a mile long, yet it seemed endless. Jeanette wished she’d thought to count her paces. At least then they would know how far they’d traveled already. She was certain it was more than a mile now. Their torchlight illuminated the cramped surroundings well enough. But that only made the darkness, extending before and behind them, feel more dangerous. They moved in silence.

Jeanette’s feet were sore by the time the narrow passage began to widen. The ceiling rose first,  moving beyond torchlight as they proceeded further. Only a few dozen steps after they lost sight of it, the walls opened up into a larger cavern. Blackness surrounded their little circle of light. The walls and ceiling were beyond the reach of their torches. Only the floor, and the wall they’d just emerged from were visible.

Without a word, Barnos turned left and continued forward. He kept one hand on the only wall they could see. Jeanette counted this time, reaching 122 paces before the wall made an abrupt turn. Banros’ turned with it and continued to lead the others forward. Jeanette couldn’t help but glance into the vast expanse of blackness to their right. Only children are afraid of the dark, she reminded herself.

“Gods-!” Banros gasped just as Jeanette counted 169 paces. It was the first any of them had spoken since entering the passage. Alger and Jeanette jumped back with a start. When Banros didn’t explain himself, Jeanette hissed at him.

“’Gods’ yourself, asshole! Spit it out! What’s worth scaring me half to death with your shouting?”

“Give me a torch.” Banros commanded, ignoring the complaint. He held his hand back towards Alger without even looking. His eyes were fixed on something three paces in front of him. Tired of Banros dismissive attitude, Jeanette stepped around Alger and marched forward. She stopped short and scrambled back when she saw the pit Banros was standing at the edge of.

It was 15′ across. On the other side was a sheer wall, rising beyond torchlight. Jeanette lowered herself, and crawled forward. She didn’t trust her own balance near the precipice. Banros tossed his torch into the chasm. It spun, and the light flickered in the rushing black air. It bounced off the far wall, then the near one, before coming to rest as a pinprick of light in the black.

All three spent a quiet moment peering over the chasm at the spec of light. Then, with no other choices to pick from, they turned to walk along the chasm’s edge. Though they kept a good for or five feet of distance from it. Just as Jeanette reached 122 paces for a second time, Banros stopped again. He didn’t make a sound, and Jeanette moved forward to see what had stopped them this time. She stared at the ground for long seconds before realizing Banros was looking out. Across the chasm. She followed his gaze to the sheer wall on the other side. And to the door built into it.

It was a drawbridge. Struts near the top held it aloft with heavy chains. The door blocked their view of whatever passage lay beyond it. But there was a three or four foot gap at the top. Banros was the first to speak.

“Our torches are low and we don’t have the equipment to get across. I’ve got a rope and grapnel in camp. We’ll come back tomorrow.” He grabbed the torch from Alger’s hand, turned away from the drawbridge. He marched straight through the darkness in the center of the cavern. Sure enough, the passage they’d entered from was directly across from the bridge. They set a brisk pace. Jeanette had just counted 231 steps on the way back when they heard a noise. A tinkling of chains, followed by a resounding thud from the room they’d just left.

Jeanette and Alger’s first instinct was to flee. But Banros had been in front, and the passageway was too narrow to get by him. He ushered them back to the cavern. Alger, thinking himself bound to protect the Banros, allowed himself to be moved. Jeanette did the same. But she managed to wriggle herself to the rear before reaching the cavern.

Banros sprinted and the others sprinted after him. They made a terrible racket which echoed as they entered the larger chamber. The group slowed to a stop at the chasm and found…nothing. The drawbridge was up. A brisk walk zig-zagging through the black cavern revealed nothing different.

“The torches are going out.” Jeanette reminded Banros. “We need to go.”

Grudgingly, Banros broke off the search. They made a brisk pace down the corridor. Only a flicker of light from a single torch remained when they reached the ladder. As they clambered out, they discovered it was long past nightfall.

The trio fled back to their camp with all haste.

Jeanette gnawed at the overcooked rabbit Alger had caught.

“It’s terrible,” she said.

“Whine when you catch food by your lonesome, bitch.” the soldier replied. Jeanette’s alchemical trickery had stopped him from killing her. But it didn’t force him to like her much.

And that’s just fine, Jeanette thought. Aloud she said “I’m paying you, aren’t I?”

“Not yet. And you paid only for a sword-hand. Not for a cook.” Everything Alger said was calm and contemptuous. Jeanette might have liked him more if he sounded half as frustrated as she was. She returned to the task of digesting the gamey supper he’d caught. Bad as it was, it was the first thing they’d managed to eat since midday yesterday. And Jeanette had to admit, she would have been worse off without the nasty brute.

Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t kill him eventually. The Xulcam pollen made him forget the savage beating he’d given her. But she never would. The worst of her injuries were only now fading. But there would be scars to keep her memory fresh.

And he’ll pay for each one, tenfold. Jeanette vowed. She tossed the bone she’d been gnawing on into the fire. It sizzled. She rose to her feet.

“We need to get into town. We need hot food and a soft bed.”

“You want hot food and a soft bed.” the stoic soldier corrected.

“Need it or want it, we’re going go get it” she snapped. He stayed silent, chewing at his meat. He picked a bone clean before offering a reply.

“If the money for those things is in your pocket, why’m I not paid yet?” he asked.

“60 gold crowns is a small fortune. I’m talking about five sheckles of food and cloth.”

“Do you have the sum of that?” he asked, in a patronizing tone. Jeanette rolled her eyes. The dolt’s superior attitude made her want to kill him all the more. She strained to keep her voice even.

“Two days back we passed a road going into Nulara right? One the locals use for trade?”

“Yarb, we did that. ”

“You’re a soldier. Don’t tell me you’ve never turned bandit when your pay was late.” His eyes narrowed as he caught on to her plan. He didn’t seem to like it.

“Yarb, but with ten and more men to my right and left. Not just a sword and a witch.” Jeanette counted the note of testiness rising in his voice as a small victory.

“So we stalk some trader until they make camp, then slit their throats at night. The road is at least a three day journey, they’ll need to make camp.”

“And what of your wantedness? You get nabbed for some coin, and I don’t get paid.”

“Getting ‘nabbed’ would be worse for me than it would be for you. But it won’t happen. Even if Ulric sent word this far, I’m hardly the only Nobeli woman in Lauglen.” Alger stared at her, unconvinced, so she continued.

“We’ll stick to the dregs, and I’ll scrounge cloth for a bonnet to hide my hair. We can get a good rest and be gone before anyone realizes we were ever there. If anything it’s your cloak and armor we ought to worry about. If you’re marked as a deserter by now, it’s a dead giveaway.”

Alger just grunted and reached for the last piece of rabbit. Jeanette could see him mulling over what she’d said as he chewed at the gamey meat. Finally he muttered:

“Awright”

—

Jeanette opened her eyes. All she saw was black. Her temples throbbed against a rope tied tight around her head. It was hard to breathe. Her mouth was dry–filled with rags. She tried moving, but the the rub of ropes on her arms and legs left no room for it. She could feel her pulse quicken in her temples as the reality of her situation set in. She had apparently been very wrong about how recognizable she was. And about how badly Pestor Ulric wanted her dead.

As her heartbeat throbbed faster, her wiggling became more spastic. Each failed attempt to escape the ropes increased her mounting hopelessness.  She tried to clear her thoughts.  Panicking will only hurt you she told herself. But whomever had done the ropes knew what they were doing. She tried to take deep, calming breaths. But the gag restricting her breathing only fueled her panic. She was on the verge of screaming when she heard a hand on a doorknob. She went completely limp, doing her best imitation of unconsciousness.

“You’re not fooling anyone, witch.” Came a man’s voice a moment later, accompanied by a sharp kick to her thigh. Caught, Jeanette tried to rise to a sitting position. She forced herself to be calm. The man had a Lauglen accent. Whatever trouble she was in, she wasn’t back with the army. Yet.

“Hrmmn nm muuuh!” Jeanette knew he wouldn’t understand her. She didn’t even actually say anything—but how else to get his attention? There was a pause before he responded.

“Rewards almost the same if you’re dead, which you will be if you scream.” She felt hands at the back of her neck fiddling with a knot. The rope slackened, and she spat it out, along with a soiled rag. She enjoyed several deep breaths.

“I can pay you.” she croaked through dry lips. The offer sounded weak even to her. She wasn’t surprised to hear her captor chortling.

“First, no you can’t. You barely had any coin on you. And if you were rich or powerful back in Rotain, then the army wouldn’t have a 300 crown bounty on your ass.” Jeanette winced, hoping Alger wasn’t in the same room. The promise of 300 crowns would overwhelm the paltry charms of the Xulcam pollen.

“Second, even if you could pay more, I’ve already sent a runner to your Governor. Ten thousand crowns wouldn’t be enough to save me if I let you go. I’d be dead just as surely as you’re gonna to be. No dice.”

Jeanette searched for anything she might offer in exchange for freedom. There was nothing. No bargain would get her out of this. She would have to escape. She needed to be easy, calm, and friendly. She needed to create opportunities, which might become cracks she could wriggle out of.

“Can…can you at least bring me—us, my friend and I—some food? The army’s at least a few days out. We’ll need to eat if you don’t want to hand over a pair of corpses.” Again, the man paused before responding. Either he was slow in the head, or he was being much too cautious.

“Yeah, alright. I think there’s some old mash out in the other room.”

Jeanette heard him moving, the opening and closing of a door, and the turning of a lock. A few seconds later the sounds repeated in reverse.  If he locked the door just to walk across a room, when she was already bound, then he wasn’t slow.  He was cautious.

Hands freed her arms from their binding, and removed her blindfold. He could have made her eat blind. That small mercy would at least give Jeanette a chance to examine her surroundings. She saw a cold bowl of beige gruel on the floor near her, Alger was a few feet away, still unconscious. There was blood on his temples. She guessed he’d put up more of a fight than she had.

She reached out for the bowl, knowing better than to push her luck asking for a spoon. She dug into the mash with her fingers. A few mouthfuls in, she looked up at her captor.

“Thank you…um”

“Banros” he replied, after another pause.

“Thank you, Banros.” She returned to her food, glancing around the room between scoops. She tried to look curious, rather than calculating. He was watching her. They weren’t in a proper cell for prisoners. It was clear the room had another purpose most of the time. A rudimentary office, free of adornment save for a large map hanging on the wall. It was printed on a yellowing vellum. She could tell at a glance that it was an older artifact than she’d expect to find in a place like this.

looks like a Brimese map. A Nobeli villa-city, right?” She kept her eyes on the map, avoiding the temptation to look at his reaction. He waited so long to reply that she began to wonder if he’d actually heard her at all.

“Finish eating.” He said. He was trying to sound stern, but Jeanette caught the shift in his tone. His curiosity was at odds with his better judgement.

“I’m Nobeli, you know. My mother’s line traces back to the heyday of the Brimese Empire. It’s where my magic comes from.” This was true, as far as she knew. At the least, it had always helped to enhance her mysterious image.

“Last chance to be eat.” Banros said. He was definitely interested. Jeanette didn’t know why, but it was a crack in her cage. She returned to her food. She needed to pique his curiosity further, without pushing him too far. As she tried to suss out her next move, he saved her the trouble.

“They said you were a witch, but if you’re so damn magical why are you tied up on my floor?”

“It’s a subtle thing.” Jeanette said. “You’re smart enough to know old stories exaggerate.” His eyes flared, and Jeanette knew she’d misstepped before he spoke.

“Don’t patronize me.” he said, his voice steely. “You’re done eating, and when my runner gets back in a few days, I’m turning you over to the army. That’s it.”

Jeanette opened her mouth to smooth things over, but he was already shoving rags into it. The knots he tied on her arms felt even tighter than before. He left in a hurry, and the door lock sounded behind him. Whether through kindness or carelessness, he’d left her eyes uncovered. That was something.

Jeanette weighed her options. It was clear that the map was important to Banros. It was also clear  that he thought she might have some value with regard to it. It wasn’t clear what that value might be. But, given another opportunity, she might work his interest into an advantage. If she made her captivity too difficult, then preventing her escape would distract him. That would limit her opportunities to talk to him.

She had a few days at least. Long enough to try talking a few more times. If that didn’t work, she could always try to escape later.

She spied a mouldering pile of hay in the corner. With the little mobility she had, she scooted closer until she could roll onto it. Once she got used to the smell, she drifted to sleep.

—

“Wake up!” The harsh whisper cut through Jeanette’s light doze. It felt like she’d been asleep for hours, but she didn’t feel any better for the rest. The room was dark, but enough light was visible under the doorway that the sun must be up.

“You living?” the voice came again. Alger had managed to work the gag out of his mouth. She tried to shush him, but all she could produce was a vague “Phuuuph!” which didn’t seem to have any impact on the soldier.

“Work it off, it’s not hard!” he hissed across the black room. Jeanette began to work against the gag with her lips and tongue. She slid the ropes over her lower lip inch-by-inch. After long minutes, the ropes fell to hang loose around her neck. She coughed the rags out of her mouth. Her throat was painfully dry.

“Be quiet!” she spat at Alger. He ignored her.

“Listen, we’re not in army hands yet. But soon enough we will. We gotta get to running.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“You’re in ropes, I’m in rusty irons. Army has better gear. Now you wiggle free, can you magic my locks?”

“No.”

“Then find the damned key! Ropes is easy. Then I’ll–” the pair’s whispered argument fell silent as footsteps sounded outside. A moment later the lock turned, and Banros entered again, holding a steaming bowl.

“Got your gags free, huh?” he said with unsettling cheerfulness. “That’s always a hard hole to keep plugged.” He set the bowl down in front of Jeanette, and fished a spoon out of his pocket. Hot mash, with an egg. Jeanette forced her face to remain neutral. Her captor’s sudden kindness meant he’d decided Jeanette had some power. She needed to figure out just how much power she had.

Jeanette stared Banros in the eye. Alger looked between them, confused about what he’d missed. The room was quiet.

“So,” Banros spoke first “you know something about my map. I can make sure you have a bed and some hot food for the next few days. Much better than sleeping on the floor and eating the scraps we remember to toss you.” Jeanette let her captor’s offer hang in the air while she mulled over how to proceed.

“Could you give this food to my companion?” Jeanette nodded towards Alger. “I’m still full from last night.” Banros looked confused, but picked up the bowl and set it before the soldier. Hands still bound, Alger burried his face into the bowl without shame.

“Thanks.” Jeanette said, careful not to sound grateful. He needed to know that she wouldn’t be persuaded with creature comforts. And it didn’t hurt to show Alger a little loyalty. He might come in handy during an escape.

“What do you know about your map?” Jeanette asked.

“I know it’s a Brimese ruin. I know around about where to find it. And I suspect there’s a fair amount of booty to plunder from it.” Banros replied.

“Then what do you need from me? Loot it.”

“I need to know what hexes might be on a place like that, and how to ward them away.”

Jeanette had no idea, but answered anyway.

“There’s no such thing as a standard set of protective hexes. I’d have to be there, sense them for myself.”

“I can’t do that.” Banros replied, frustration evident in his voice. “You can help me and these last few days will be comfortable, or you can be coy and miserable.”

“I don’t know why you think I can tell you so much just from looking at a map. There’s nothing I can tell you without being there.”

Before the last words had left her mouth, Banros leaped to his feet and threw his stool at the wall. It struck a few feet from her head, and bounced onto the floor with a clatter. His face was flush with rage, and Jeanette saw a knife in his hand that hadn’t been there before.

“Don’t fuck with me, witch! You know you aren’t worth much more alive than dead. So here’s the deal: you tell me how to avoid the ghosts in that place or I gut you here and now and save the army the trouble!”

Jeanette couldn’t help squirming away in fear. She was helpless. If he was going to kill her, she was already dead. She was already spinning together some hokey bullshit in her head. Something to satisfy his curiosity and get him away from her. She stopped herself. Satisfying him would get her nothing. The worst he could do now would be to kill her a few days earlier than she was scheduled to die anyway. And if Banros killed her, at least her death would include a lot less torture. She had nothing to lose.

“Why are you so scared of thousand year old wizard tricks?” Jeanette asked, refusing to brace herself against the blow that was sure to follow. It surprised her when, instead, the anger drained from Banros’ face. He slumped into a nearby chair, and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

“It’s not me. I’ve been to the place before, years ago. Way out in the lowland woods, where nobodys been since the Brim left. Untouched. Probably filled with the kind of loot you could live on the rest of your life. I’d risk ghosts and curses for that. But my boys won’t, and I won’t risk it alone. I thought if I could get some specifics from you then maybe…to hell with it.” He stood and made for the exit.

“Wait!” Alger burst out, speaking for the first time since Banros entered. “We’ll go with you. Watch your back.” he looked to Jeanette for support.

“Absolutely.” she said. Banros paused halfway through the door, but didn’t look back.

“You’d stab me in the back the minute we were out of the city.” he said. Alger winced, and Jeanette thought that had likely been exactly what he was planning. She hurried to pick up the slack.

“I can cast the unbreakable promise spell! We’ll bind ourselves to you.” Now Banros did turn around. He stepped back into the room and closed the door halfway behind him.

“Once cast, we would die if we betrayed you.” Jeanette continued.

“You can’t escape a few ropes and a locked door, but I should trust my life to your witchery?” Banros asked.

“I told you. It’s a subtle thing.” Jeanette replied. “But promises are sacred, they already have a bit of magic about them. There’s an ancient ritual which strengthens that magic. Makes it deadly to the oath breaker. We’d waste away in a few days if we betrayed the conditions of the promise.” Banros’ silence was encouraging.

“There’s still the Governor and his army.” Banros rejoined after a moment “Somebody will get the blame for your escape. I’ve got no intention of being too busy running for my life to spend my money in comfort.”

“Who’s the easy ones for the Gov’ to blame?” Alger asked, “A man already far away? A man for whom a new hunt must begin? OR, your cowardly fellows who will be right here for the hanging?”

Banros gave Alger a serious look, then peeked back into the room beyond the door. He closed it.

“How do we cast the spell?” Banros asked.

“A candle and a copper coin.” Jeanette said. “And we’ll both need our hands and legs free.” Banros quickly found both nearby, and freed his new allies. Jeanette fussed over the precise way the other two should stand, and how they should hold their hands. While, in her head, she worked out the performance of this “Spell.”

She put the coin on the back of the Banros’ left hand, and stacked her’s and Alger’s hands atop that. With her right, she held the candle a foot beneath their stacked limbs. Banros winced as the heat from the tiny flame burned him.

“The magic must burn through us, do not pull away!” she insisted. Distracting pain always made spells feel more solemn.

Jeanette muttered a poem in Brimese that she’d learned as a child. It was  about a little girl who danced too wildly, broke a sacred vessel, and became cursed with two left feet. But to people who’d never learned the ancient tongue, it sounded portentous. After two lines of the poem she said in the common tongue:

“Alger and Jeanette do solemnly swear to assist and protect the coinbearer, Banros, on his journey to seek wealth in the homes of the long dead!” She then pressed all three hands down hard, extinguishing the candle’s flame. Banros, burned by the wax, gritted profanities through his teeth and dropped the coin. Jeanette retrieved it, and held it out to him.

“So long as you hold this coin, we must abide by our promise, or we will die.”

Banros, shaking his hand to soothe the burn, stared at the coin. There was fear in his eyes. With a trembling hand, he reached for the coin as though it might shatter like glass. He hefted it in his burned palm.

“It’s cool.” he murmured. “It feels heavier.” Jeanette resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the awe in his voice.

“Wait for me here.” Banros said, sliding the coin into a pocket inside his vest. “I’ll get your things and make sure the coast is clear, then we’ll be on our way.”

In late 2014 I wrote a short fiction series for a website that no longer exists. At present, the story hasn’t been available anywhere for several years, and since the rights have long since reverted back to me, I thought I’d take the opportunity to commission some new art for each of the 5 chapters, and republish them here on Papers & Pencils.

The site will be updating daily until the story is complete, so be sure to check back! I hope you enjoy The Daughter of Tangled Corpses.

At best, Jeanette had maybe ten minutes before the messenger’s body was discovered. She tumbled through the hole she’d slashed in the back of her tent, and into the mud. She forced herself to her feet and pulled her skirts up for a sprint to the edge of camp. The scene she’d left behind wasn’t hard to interpret. When Governor Ulric was told, he’d order her immediate execution. Of course, he’d been planning to do that anyway. He just hadn’t expected her to figure it out in advance.

Her tent was near the war camp’s edge. A fortuitous effect of being the Governor’s secret shame. Unfortunately that edge was also the furthest from the camp’s single gate. Without fleeing through an entire camp of soldiers–who may already be in a mood to burn her alive — escape would mean climbing the wall.

She clung to her skirts, struggling not to drop her book or her knife as she fled through the ankle-deep mud and driving rain. Ahead she saw a guard patrolling the inside of the palisade. He looked at her with curiosity. Good, she thought. He didn’t know Jeanette was the scapegoat yet. His confusion made it easy for her to throw herself against his chest—knife first. As he fell she managed to plunge the knife into him four more times, and he had the courtesy to die quietly.

Rising, she dropped her skirts and sheathed her still bloody knife. She checked her book’s clasp, took it in both hands, and heaved it over the palisade. As she watched it tumble over the wall’s spires, she was already bunching up her gown to loop between her legs, and tie together in the front. The wall was more than twice her own height. She didn’t have time to waste.

She tried, first, to find hand and foot holds in the wall to climb with, but she couldn’t even get both feet off the ground. Fuck I am going to die, she thought as she spun around, looking for anything that could help her get over. There was a trio of barrels nearby, but stacking them would be a feat of strength beyond her ability. Her eyes fell on the dead guard’s spear. She grabbed it, and hurled it into the wood of the palisade, where it stuck. With great effort she rolled one of the barrels through the mud, and turned it upright. If she could get a leg-up from the spear, she should be able to reach the top. She climbed onto the barrel, but the moment her weight touched the spear it dislodged, and she careened down to land on the dead man below.

Growling, she hefted the spear and climbed back atop barrel. The angle was awkward, but she thrust the spear in, careful to keep the tip horizontal and angled downwards between two of the palisade’s trunks. Hopping down, she rolled another barrel over near the end of the spear, aware of every lengthy second the process took. She used the dead man’s helmet to hammer the butt of the spear in as hard as she could. After a few good blows, she heard cries of alarm in the tent she’d fled from. No more time. No more chances.

She sprinted for the wall, leaping up to the barrel and clambering to her feet. She raised a leg to rest gently on the spear. She paused for a deep breath, then hurled herself forwards and upwards against the unstable foothold. The spear drooped, but she kept her momentum. In the space of a heartbeat her hands were clasping at the pointed tops of the palisade trunks as the spear fell away beneath her.

The muddy schlupping of running feet drew closer. Fear pumped through her, fueling her straining arms which otherwise would have given out already. She swung a leg over the wall, and heaved her body up to straddle it with a defiant howl. Just as she balanced herself, an arrow flew from below and struck her just above the left elbow. It pierced through the meat and stuck into a bit of stomach flab.

She allowed herself to fall, limp, off the outside of the wall. The wet thunk of her body crashing into the mud didn’t sound half as bad as it felt. For a moment she lay still, blinking away the rain that pelted her face. She knew she wasn’t free, but it was hard to justify anything other then lying still. She could hear Urlic’s voice now, shouting for his men to get a ladder, and sending word for soldiers to move around outside the wall.

His voice was angry. He said something about ‘avenging fallen comrades.’ Jeanette felt some satisfaction knowing she’d judged him correctly. He did intend to scapegoat her as a witch for his disastrous defeat on the field today. As though it were her fault her palm reading had been accurate enough one time to convince him to plan wars around her vague chicanery.

She was still lying in the mud. You’re going to die, she chided. She forced her body to roll, to get her hands under herself. She heaved against the ground, pulling her feet under her and stumbling away from the wall. Ignoring the pain, she willed herself to run for the distant tree line. Scapegoat or not, she’d be the one that was set on fire. She would not be set on fire.

Her vision of the trees wavered and she stumbled. Her head was pounding and bile was rising in her throat, but she forced it down. She kept running, focusing on the trees, and doing her best not to trip over her own feet. Blood from her side ran down to her hip, its warmth contrasting with the chill of the hard-falling rain. But still she pumped her legs, each step taking her closer to the tree line. An arrow struck the ground a few feet from her, and she realized she’d heard at least a half dozen others falling around her already.

She tried zig-zagging to make the archer’s task harder, but she already felt as though she was moving slower than normal. Like running in a dream. She settled on a beeline for the trees. The trees would save her. They were thick. Arrows couldn’t get her there.

Soldiers could, though.

The falling arrows were close around now. Even with the dark and rain, the growing number of archers climbing the walls made it ever more likely one would hit. Only a few yards more. One struck the shaft of the arrow still embedded in her arm, causing it to twinge. She lurched, and opened her mouth to scream, but had no breath to do it with.

And then she was among the trees. Jeanette felt as though she was suddenly moving faster as their trunks whipped past her on either side. She couldn’t see more than a few steps ahead. She stopped running for a moment to break the shaft of the arrow in her arm. The last thing she needed was to impale herself by slamming it into a tree.

She needed to rest. She had no time. She starting running again.

She had no idea where she was, but angled her flight away from where she’d entered the woods. They’d search for her everywhere, but there was no point making it easy for them by continuing to run in a straight line.

There were shouting voices behind her, but they sounded distant. Relief began to creep into her mind. No! she thought, clamping down on that relief. You are almost certainly going to die tonight. Whatever slim chance of survival you’ve got relies on NOT GETTING SLOPPY.

She forced her legs to keep pumping up and down for what felt like hours, hoping all the while that she wasn’t running back towards camp. The black sky denied her any lights to guide herself by. Occasionally she heard men or horses. She knew she was never more than a throw of the dice away from being caught and dragged to her death.

Her legs finally gave out beneath her, and she tumbled onto her face. She scrambled back up with her hands and legs, but the world swam around her and she collapsed again. Her body could not flee any longer. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to lose consciousness. She looked around for some place to hide, and saw an upturned tree with a hollow of dirt beneath it. She dragged her body towards it, unable even to crawl now without stumbling. She wriggled into it, curling herself into a ball for warmth. There was a sharp pain on her thigh. She craned her head to find a rabbit biting at her in defense of its hovel.

With her last ounce of strength she took hold of the animal and broke its neck before falling into deep unconsciousness.

—

I didn’t bleed to death, Jeanette thought, as a fuzzy semblance of wakefulness returned to her. She squinted against the intrusion of the bright midday light. Apparently they didn’t find me, either. That’s two strokes of luck I’ll have to pay for eventually. Though, the clear and sunny day and her long sleep went some way towards paying that debt. They’d have resumed the search hours ago, and if they got close she’d be easy to spot.

She struggled to pull herself out of the cramped hovel, beset by every ache she’d earned the night before. The most pressing among them was the cavernous ache in her stomach which demanded she find food. She tried to push it down, focusing instead on her arrow wound.

The gouge in her torso where the arrow had gone through wasn’t all that bad. It hurt when she poked it, but she had bruises that hurt more. Which, she hoped, meant the wound was shallow enough to ignore. Her arm was in much worse shape. It was pale, and felt like pins and needles when she tried to move it. The blood around the holes was crusty and dark.

She untied her gown from around her waist, and fumbled to get her knife into her off-hand. She had to cut her dress up to the knees before getting a strip of cloth that wasn’t caked with mud. Makeshift bandage at the ready, she gave the arrowhead a gentle test tug, and felt the meat of her arm painfully tugged with it. This was going to hurt a lot.

She yanked hard, and the arrow shaft tore its way out of her arm, releasing a fresh gout of blood. She wrapped the bandage, careful to place the cleanest spots she could over the wound’s two openings. The pins and needles in her arm got worse as blood dribbled down to her elbow. She was relieved as it slowed, then finally stopped. She tied off the bandage to keep pressure on.

Climbing to her feet, Jeanette assessed her surroundings. The trees were close about her, which was good. So long as she didn’t make any noise, search parties would need to get close before they could spot her. Doesn’t mean I can sit still, though, she thought. Without landmarks, she couldn’t be sure just what direction the camp was in. She did remember the tree she’d hidden under had been on her right last night. So, if she stood with the hollow to her right and walked in that direction, it ought to be away from camp. She checked to make sure she had her knife and her book with her, and–

Fuck.

Jeanette dug her fingers into her brow, and groaned, despite the need for quiet. She didn’t have her book. She’d had it when she left the tent, but didn’t remember picking it up after falling over the wall. She knew she hadn’t been holding it during her mad dash across the field. She pounded her fists into her forehead. That had been it. The book was her one real source of magic. The one thing she could turn to when her parlor tricks didn’t cut it.

A metallic thunk and a blow that sent her sprawling flat on her face cut Jeanette’s recrimination short. She spun onto her back to see a soldier rearing his leg back to deliver a savage kick to her bruised right thigh. She yelped in pain and tried to roll away, to get to her feet, to run again. Before she even got her knee under herself he’d stepped forward and kicked again. She collapsed into a fetal ball.

“That’s sixty gold crowns for me, witch!” the man cheered, slurring his words over an ugly accent. He bent to roll her over, but Jeanette lashed out with her arms and legs like a cornered animal, catching him above the eye with her foot. He stumbled back, but didn’t fall. She scrambled to her feet and ran. He heavy footsteps were at her back in an instant. Before she’d covered five yards he slammed his body into hers, crushing her against a nearby tree. She fell again, feeling as though every bone she had was broken.

“I’d dash your brains here if it’s my choosing,” he snarled, kneeling on her back as he secured her arms. “But Governer Ulric wants you burned crisp for all to see, so you’ll live ’til I’ve been paid!” Wriggling in panic, Jeanette managed to free her good hand. She dove for one of the pouches on her belt, praying its contents hadn’t been ruined by the rain. The Soldier clasped her shoulder and flipped her over. His fist rose to deliver a punch, but went limp as the yellow powder she threw struck his face. His eyes became glassy and unfocused. She tried to speak, but could only gurgle for long terrifying seconds before finally croaking out

“You helped me escape because you don’t want any harm to come to me!”

She lay still, staring up at him in silence. The pollen of the Xulcam flower was a hit-and-miss. But he didn’t look too smart. If it was working, his mind and memories would be folding over on themselves. Trying to accommodate the new information. If it wasn’t working, he’d probably go crazy and beat her to death. As the silence stretched on, she was very aware of the buzzing in her ears, and the narrowing field of vision from her swelling eye. She tasted blood.

Then the soldier was rising to his feet, and helping her onto her’s.

“You’ve been beat harsh! Did you catch the way he went running?” he asked. Jeanette shook her head, too taken aback to trust herself speaking.

“We’d better get out of here before he gets back, though.” she said. “He’s likely to bring a dozen horsemen with him.”

“Yarb, true. Nothing can harm you if I want the 60 gold crowns you owe me!” he answered. She nodded, and the pair began to move off.

As she limped along beside him, Jeanette allowed herself a small, painful, grin.