Easy Come, Easy Go

Chapter 3

Jax

The raid should have gone well. I'd paid all the right people to make sure of it. A few coins to a particular broke guard and a couple of farms had been left unpatrolled on a specific day.

A farmer who had stayed home getting in a lucky hit with a scythe would have been within expectations. I’d padded my gang with new faces to compensate for just that. You couldn't predict everything, but you had to plan for the more likely possibilities.

Things started out pleasantly. No farmers or even dogs came out to bother us. It was a beautiful, peaceful day of ransacking homesteads for whatever took our fancy. That had lasted for a few hours.

I’d been in such a good mood I hadn’t burned anything. I didn’t often pass on that. I found the way the flames consumed a house pleasing. With a head full of how to spend my spoils, I was hardly paying attention. It was around noon when luck noticed and sent disaster for a visit.

A yellow-painted wagon was lumbering along, pulled by oxen. It wasn't a common color for some reason but not ominous. That twelve armored men road ahead of it in columns didn't help but wasn't the main issue. What had my stomach dropping was the King’s banner flying above it.

Seeing that, I swore viciously. My lovely day was buggered in the ass by a tax collector. They weren't much in and of themselves, but they were invariably accompanied by elite guards. How many and how elite depended on which nobleman had sent them.

There was no telling who it would be in hinterlands like these. I took a moment to try and see whose banner flew below the kings. If it was the local nobles, things were just fine. We could make off with the loot in a relatively leisurely way.

They'd give chase, and I might let fly a parting shot from my bow as a fuck you, but that was all. None of them was the hard-working type, they weren't paid well enough for that. As I considered the possibilities, a bit of a breeze finally kicked up. The limp and twisted banner of the escort to unfurl itself.

A red fist clutching crossed arrows breaking was revealed. I felt my balls try to hide in my belly. The sigil of house Savex, Earl of the border, glared at me.

A moment later, the forward escort cleared the trees. Shortly after came the wagon, then the rest of the convoy started to appear. I could count to twenty, a rare talent. Yet the number of men exiting the woods on the farm's board flummoxed me.

I didn't know how many of them it would take to beat my band, but I knew how many they could use.

“Ditch everything!” I shouted, cutting loose a heavy bag of random silver cutlery and candlesticks from my saddle. I was off faster than an arrow from my bow, not bothering to worry if my band would heed me. Taking the breath to give them a warning was courtesy enough in my book.

It took them a minute to realize the danger, but they were as quick once they did.

“Jax! Where are we going?” Someone demanded when they caught up. Probably one of the new idiots. They were always full of useless questions.

“A hideout,” Philip shouted back. He was one of my best men. Not for his strength or intelligence, though. His virtue lay in how he was always ready to shut down anyone who questioned me. His faithful belligerence gave me time to wrack my brain in silence for just such a thing.

On another day, we’d have gone to one of my usual hiding spots. I had plenty and memorized the way to them. Unfortunately, with the Earl’s men in pursuit, none of them were safe.

Earl Savex was known for two things; fairness and brutality, and not in equal measure. Rapists lost the pleasure of pissing standing up, petty thieves lost a hand, arsonists were burned, and so forth. The trouble was that men of a criminal disposition, like myself, might be any mixture of two or more.

Another authority would have split the difference. You'd get slapped for the worst of what you'd done, and that would be the end. Savex was an exacting fellow in that regard. All punishments would be rendered.

Some claim he even went so far as to resurrect the condemned if they qualified for more than one death sentence. Facing such a man, you didn’t have friends. Even the most hardened of my usual associates would roll over like a puppy and whine for mercy. Not for want of hardness or hatred for the ruling class, but out of self-preservation.

Heading generally in the direction of the mountains, we rode into the night. We stopped only to feed and water the horses. We couldn't risk losing the running start we'd gained. There would be no replacing it.

Fortunately, I always planned ahead. Once the horses were seen to, I called for a cold camp.

“Won’t do to fall off your horses, lads,” I chided. They all balked at the idea of sleep, and I couldn't blame them. To help them along, I passed ‘round a waterskin. I’d filled it with a mixture of whatever booze I found in the farmhouses. I like to call it country grog.

It took them a while, but soon enough, they bedded down. The new ones, anyway. My trusted fellows stayed up as “the first watch.” They counted three in total; Philip, Durst, and Tip.

We’d been together since our boyhood days. We'd grown up in Callem Bay, spending our youth mugging sailors and whoring. At least until we decided to become professionals.

They knew what I was about in calling for a watch rather than handing out assignments. Giving the horses several hours to rest, we passed the time with a game of cards. When the horses were ready, the new men were already long asleep.

The first moon of the night barely starting to climb gave us just enough light to work by. Even the lightest sleeper lay like a stone. A feat managed by a touch of sleep draught in the skin I'd passed around. Even the most nervous of them were lost in sweet dreams.

A few who knew too much would never wake again. I slit their throats in their sleep. They numbered five and were thrown over horsebacks and sent out in the dark. A good tracker could tell if a horse had a rider or not. The dead laden horses would be a convincing distraction.

The remaining ones were left to sleep. Tip, Philip, Durst, and I each took a pair of horses and as many supplies as possible in our saddlebags. Even if our pursuers didn't settle for the excellent catch we'd left them, they'd have to break into two groups to follow us.

If we were lucky, they might be a manageable number by that point. With our affairs in order, we started toward the mountains once again. Our horses obeyed, but only reluctantly.

The horses we'd set loose headed another direction. I felt a little unease as I watched them go. Tamed creatures rarely showed such hesitance without reason. I quietly hoped they'd simply scented a bear.

As we rode, we kept to hard earth and old paths that were less likely to show signs of our passage. I hoped the trick would cause our pursuers to be put off our trail or split their force to search for us. Anything that might give us a fighting chance of escape.

The second day we paused only to change our horses. I was uncertain if we were still followed. We hadn't seen them after the first few hours of our flight from the farm. Even so, I was unwilling to chance capture. We rode on.

It was near noon before the terrain began to change. Coming out of the thinning woods, we were met with increasingly patchy grasslands. Finally, we found ourselves looking at a narrow belt of coral pink sand.

I expected foothills and forest leading up to the mountains. Growing up on the coast, my knowledge of geography was patchy at best. I'd heard of deserts but hadn't been able to imagine a sea-less beach. At least not one so large.

Now I was faced with just such a thing. I adapted quickly to the sight and focused on something more important. I could see a faint rising cloud of dust behind us on the grass planes. We were still being pursued.

"Still coming," I muttered. Philip had the best eyesight of us and peered into the distance before nodding. With his confirmation, no one questioned what was to be done next.

We set out across the sand toward the spires of stone we could see in the distance. The closer we drew to the formations, the louder a strange musical keening became every time the wind blew.

“Seems haunted,” Tip mused as another cry rose up. I nodded, knowing there wasn't any point in pretending otherwise.

Around noon we stopped to rest and water the horses. We'd gotten lucky and found a shallow water hole in the lee of a massive pile of stones along with shade.

Prudently we filled every canteen we could first. Horses weren't as bad as sheep, but they could foul the water quickly. That was a risk we couldn't afford. It might be the last water we had access to for a long while.

We rode beyond the spires to a stone formation with a single ravine-like entrance. Beyond that entry, corridors of colorfully banded rock formed countless paths.

“Better than getting burnt and brought back to hang. Or the reverse,” Durst offered. We were hesitating at the entrance, but no one said anything. Which direction we would go was up to me.

I had been the leader since I knocked out Tip’s front tooth with an iron rod in a bit of savagery.

My cunning and thoughtfulness had won me the crown of leader, rather than my strength. Our horses were reluctant to enter, but I looked up past the maze. Beyond it, the mountain towered, feeling impossibly distant.

Even so, it was a marker we could count on. We entered the stone maze and set the mountain as our goal. There were only a few hours of sunlight left as rode on. We would need to find a proper place to set up camp for the night.

Riding along the corridors and tunnels, I found the stone that looked reddish-orange from a distance wasn't so simple. It was banded with varying shades of orange and pink with the occasional veins that glittered.

Like sea glass, it felt pleasant to touch when I caressed one out of curiosity. Wonder came over me as I noticed how it glowed, light passing through its thinnest parts. I’d never seen anything like it before.

We'd all grown up along the coast and reeving the midlands in our teens. I had little never imagined such a place or the beauty it might hold existed so far inland. For the first time in my life, I regretted not learning to draw or write more than a few words.

My personal regrets were soon forgotten as we spent a day getting seemingly nowhere. I hadn't expected just how long it would take to make even a little progress. We all had spare canteens, but our water supply was finite and ebbing with every mouthful.

I resolved myself to kill Durst once my first canteen ran dry. Tip and Philip would continue on with me, better supplied. I could have picked any of them really, and it wouldn't have changed the outcome much. Durst was my first choice not out of malice but because he had a habit of panicking when things got sticky.

They were likely running a similar calculation in their own minds. Deciding when they’d kill me for getting them into this or someone else to gain more water. As it was, only our friendship and the effort they knew I put in was keeping them from my throat.

Looking around, I wondered if I could find a snake to put in Durst's bedroll or orchestrate a relatively painless accident. He was one of the few people I would have spared the thought for.

I didn't count anyone as dear to me, but he as close as anyone had ever gotten. If I could arrange it so he didn't feel betrayed as he died, I would. A gesture I knew Tip and Philip would also appreciate. None of us were sentimental, but death was a thing best given gently to a friend.

Thinking more, I decided that if it came down to it, I'd spare Tip.

He'd never begrudged me for the tooth, but it had cost him the regard of Callum's whores. That was the sort of debt a man ought to keep in mind. It would be fitting to let him end me. I knew he enjoyed killing like I enjoyed fire.

My mind at ease, we traveled the twisting trails until we found shelter for the night. When morning came, we returned to the maze. Despite orienting ourselves to the mountain, it was still a daunting ride.

I'd made up my mind about who I'd kill if it came to it. Yet an unpleasant thought crept up on me as the day passed. If we continued to wander this waterless hell of stone too long, we might be killing each other out of mercy rather than necessity.

We drank lightly and kept our pace at a walk through the day. At night we found a small cave out of the wind and slept. It was a rare moonless month. All three disappeared from the sky as the month drew to a close instead of one or two.

On the third day, my canteen was down to a third, and my thirst was growing. We were leading the horses instead of riding them to give them a break. Without water, it was all we could do to try and keep them alive a bit longer.

I shook my canteen and started reconsidering my optimistic choice to wait until it emptied. If I found a chance, I was going to kill Durst today. If one didn't present itself, I'd do it during the night. With a newfound sense of resolve, I continued on.

A discreet opportunity presented itself after lunch. Durst went to take a piss, and I simply followed him. If I was quick, I could kill him before he understood what was happening. There wasn't time for a polite fiction for the others, but I was past caring about that.

As I quietly came around the bend, I stepped from shade into the blinding radiance of the late-day sun. There was no transition. One moment I was hopelessly lost and about to kill Durst. The next, I was walking out into a sandy valley.

"Shiiiit," Durst said appreciatively. The valley was a narrow thing nestled in the stony foothills and running right up into the mountain. More important than any of its other features was the river running down to a small lake.

"Philip, Tip!" I shouted. Durst didn't stand on ceremony and was already tearing clothes off as he ran for the lake. I half hoped that he ended up eaten by a crocodile or some other aquatic monster. We had the horses to think about, and he was acting like a jackass. I'd made the right call in planning to kill him first.

"What happened, Jax?" Tip asked before he rounded the bend. He came out carefully, knife in hand.

"We need to get the horses," I said plainly, ignoring the knife. Philip hearing us talk rather than fight came out to take a look. We all silently agreed not to stab each other. There was no call for it with the lake in sight.

Durst was alive when we arrived at the lakeside. He floated on his back with a blissful expression while we tended the horses. I exchanged a look with Philip and Tip. I felt like I wasn't alone in singling him out to kill first.

When the horses were appropriately watered, it was our turn to take a dip. I’d never felt such relief to just see water let alone immerse myself in it. Growing up surrounded by the sea, I'd taken it for granted.

After everything we'd been through and how much worse it could have been, I swore I never would again. I was as able a swimmer as anyone, but I stayed in the shallows and only washed before getting out. I was dry by the time the others hauled themselves out.

There were no trees around the lake, just grass and reeds. It wouldn’t be enough to hide in if the Earl’s men caught up to us. A thought I found luxurious after trying to decide how bad things would have to get before I killed myself. Or asked Tip to do the honors.

"We need to find somewhere to hide," I said as I looked around. The walls of the valley were too steep to climb, and I wasn't going back in the maze any time soon. I'd rather stand and fight than go through that ordeal again.

“I think I see a house,” Philip announced suddenly. He pointed toward a smudge in the shadow of the mountain. I couldn't make anything out, but I knew to trust his eyes.

There should have been a good amount of day left, but we arrived as a shadow descended over the valley. The mountain bringing about darkness earlier than we expected as the sun hid behind it. Without the hope of a moon for a few days yet we quickened our pace.

By the time we arrived, we'd had to light a makeshift torch. We were rewarded with finding ourselves in front of an odd building. It had the general look of a stable with its massive front door but strange metal rails running through the middle. I didn't know what to make fo it.

Fortunately, the door still worked, and it was a place to sleep out of the wind. Examining it by torchlight, I found that its resemblance to a stable ended at the front door. It was like a low slung warehouse with the entrance of a cave at its back.

"Let's let the horses free-range tonight," Tip suggested. I looked at him curiously. He was particular about them and loathe to lose one carelessly.

"Why?" Philip asked suspiciously. Good old Philip, always ready to look like an idiot on my behalf.

"If a fight happens, it won't help to have them inside with us," Tip said simply. He had a point. We could tie them up, but it would be chaos if one of them got loose of they started kicking.

"Alright," I agreed, settling the matter.

"Bed down, this is camp until further notice," I added. Reasonably there was little to no chance we'd been followed so far. Even if we had been the Earls, men should be lost in the maze just like we were.

Despite that certainty, we bared all of the entrances and tied bells to them. Even if the Earl employed someone who knew how to sneak in, they'd likely miss that trick. It was paranoid, but if a man would pay to kill a criminal twice, there wasn't any telling what he might do to track one.

Disinterested in all things stone, we didn't bother with the mine. Instead, we settled in for some sleep.