Gareth Ashford's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

The bandits closed on the log, bows drawn, spears low. Erik Thornwood stood at the fence and watched his men work. Twenty against one sword and a goblin. Gareth knew those odds killed him. But he also knew what waited behind the log. The wall of teeth had almost eaten him an hour ago. Now it could eat the men coming for him instead. "The plants," Gareth breathed. "We run them into the plants." Snikka's yellow eyes flicked to the carnivorous wall, then back. She knew the safe path through it. The bandits did not. "They won't follow," she whispered. "They will if they're angry." Gareth grabbed her wrist and pulled her up. Snikka blushed at the sudden and unexpected grab from Gareth. Then he did the one thing no bandit expected. He charged the camp, Snikka at his side, straight at Erik Thornwood. The leader's hand dropped to his belt. Gareth didn't swing. He shoved past two spearmen, snatched a burning stick from the fire, and hurled it at the largest tent. Cloth caught fast. Smoke rolled up. The bandits turned to the flames, shouting. "Run," Gareth said. They bolted for the plant field. Erik's voice cut the chaos. "After them. Two sets of tracks. Take them." His men obeyed without question. A dozen bandits broke from the camp and gave chase, boots pounding the mud. Snikka hit the field first. She read the vines the way she'd taught him, each step landing in the gaps. Gareth copied her exactly. A jaw snapped at his ankle and missed. Behind them the bandits crashed in blind, chasing the two shapes ahead, watching the goblin and the man instead of the ground. The field woke up. The first bandit screamed as a red maw clamped his leg and dragged him down. A second lunged sideways to dodge and stepped into another set of jaws. The plants snapped and chewed, one man after another. Their yells pulled the rest in deeper, each trying to help, each finding teeth. Gareth did not look back. He matched Snikka's steps and kept his eyes on her boots. They reached the far side and dropped behind cover. The field thrashed and fed. Only three bandits staggered back out, bleeding, and fled toward the camp. The chase was over. Erik Thornwood stood at the fence, watching his tent burn and his men die in the flowers. He did not shout again. He counted what was left. Gareth's chest heaved. Half of Erik's force was gone in a single rush. He had come to clear this camp for coin, coin to break the curse on his village. Now the bandits had seen his face and knew his trick. They would not be lured twice. "That bought us nothing but his hate," Snikka said. "No." Gareth watched Erik turn and bark orders at the survivors. "It bought us half his army. But he knows us now. Next time he comes hunting."