Silvain Ironleaf's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Silvain Ironleaf crouched behind a boulder and counted six bandits blocking the only trail into the mountains. That trail was the whole reason Silvain had come here. Silvain wanted to open a road through this range, a road where dwarven caravans and elven traders could travel together as one people. But no caravan would ever pass while these men robbed everyone who tried. Silvain gripped a walking staff and studied the ambush, half-dwarf, half-elf, and too short to fight six armed men alone. A soft weight pressed against Silvain's leg. The lynx cub had followed again. Months ago Silvain had freed the small white cat from a hunter's trap, and since then it refused to leave. Now its ears twitched toward the trees. It hissed low. Silvain froze and looked where the cub stared. Two more bandits waited in the brush, hidden from the trail. The cub had smelled them. "Good eyes," Silvain whispered. A plan took shape. Silvain could not beat eight men with a staff. But the cub could find every one of them first. And Silvain knew where to find muscle. Silvain retreated to the abandoned camp in the lower hills. Weathered timber sagged over rusted sheds and old stone. A giant sat among the ruins, blue-skinned, one bottom tusk broken short. The ogre had been driven from these hills by the same bandits. He guarded the camp now, alone and bitter. "They robbed you too," Silvain said. "Help me clear the trail. Then this camp becomes our base, and no one takes it again." The ogre looked at the small figure, then at the cub. He grunted and stood. The ground shook under his feet. They moved at dusk. The cub led them off the trail, through brush, straight toward the two hidden lookouts. The ogre reached the brush first. He knocked both men senseless before either shouted. Silvain slipped forward. The cub stopped and flattened its ears at each turn, marking every bandit before Silvain could see one. The six on the trail heard the crashing too late. The ogre stepped from the trees and roared. Two bandits ran at once. Silvain swept a staff into a third man's knees and dropped him. The rest saw the giant and threw down their weapons. Silvain bound their hands with their own belts. By morning the trail lay open. The ogre carried the tied bandits down to the camp. The cub sat on a broken beam, cleaning one white paw, calm now. Silvain stood on the cleared path and looked up at the range. The way was finally safe to scout. But a bound bandit spat at Silvain's feet and laughed. "You cleared the trail," the man said. "You didn't clear who we work for. He owns this mountain. And now he knows your face." Silvain looked at the peaks and understood. The robbers were never the real danger. Someone had sent them.