Gareth Ashford's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

Morning light leaked through the leaning canvas. Gareth sat across the fire from his prisoner. Snikka Razortooth watched him with yellow eyes, her wrists still chained. She had fought him better than her whole crew and lost only to patience. Now she waited to see what he wanted. Gareth had no coin, a curse to break, and a camp of bandits still breathing in the woods. He could not kill them alone. He needed her. "The outlaws who gutted that caravan," Gareth said. "You know where they sleep." "I know." She tipped her head toward his chains. "Knowing's cheap. Walking free costs more." "Then we trade." He leaned forward. "You take me to them. We clear the camp together. The guild pays for the whole band. We split it." Snikka laughed once, short and hard. "You caught me to hand me a job. Why share coin with the goblin you chained?" "Because I can't take six men alone. And you can't fight them in irons." Her eyes narrowed. She studied his hands, his shoulders, the place his patience might break. She had trusted the wrong person once. It had burned her, and she had ridden alone since. "You'll cut me loose, and I'll vanish," she said. "That's what you fear." "I fear going home empty." He held her gaze. "My village has a problem that money fixes. That's all this is." She was quiet a long moment. The fire popped. "Half," she said. "And you unchain my hands before we fight, not after." "When we're in sight of them. Not before." Snikka bared her teeth. It was not quite a smile. "You bargain like a trader. I hate traders." She spat into the dirt. "Deal." They moved out when the sun cleared the trees. She led, chained at the wrists, picking a path Gareth would never have found. Thorns clawed his armor. The ground softened to black mud. Snikka stopped at the edge of a clearing and nodded ahead. The bandits' camp sat in a hollow. But between it and them grew a wall of plants Gareth had never seen. Huge red jaws snapped at the air. Curling vines dragged a dead crow into a maw lined with white teeth. The whole cluster leaned toward the warmth of their bodies, hungry. "That's the back way," Snikka said. "The only way they don't watch." "Because of those." "Because of those." She lifted her chained wrists. "Cut me loose. I know how they feed. You don't." Gareth looked at the snapping jaws, then at her yellow eyes. His whole plan rested on trusting the one person who had every reason to run. He drew his knife. He cut the chain. Snikka rolled her freed wrists and grinned. She did not run. "Now," she said, "let me show you where they bite." The deal was struck. The chains were off. And the only path to his coin ran straight through teeth that ate men whole.