The Windkeeper

He glanced down and could not credit what he was seeing. He blinked and looked again.

The man with the bloody head wound was clutching a wicked, double-edged dagger that he had obviously been about to plunge into the young man's exposed back. Now, his wrist was pinned to the dirt floor by the shaft of a gleaming crystal quarrel.

"Did I get him with the crossbow?"

"Aye, you did," the lad whispered. Whistling to himself, he glanced up with admiration and then turned with laughter to the leader of the thieves. "Merciful Alel, but I bet that hurts." The young man smirked. He stepped down from the ladder and nudged the pinned wrist with the toe of his dusty boot.

"Mercy, Milord!" the robber screeched as his free hand grasped the bleeding wrist of his injured one. "Have mercy on me, Sir!"

All amusement left the young man's face and his eyes took on the hard glint of steel. "Mercy such as you were about to show me?" He shrugged indifferently. "Don't worry. I won't slit your dirty throat."

"You ain't gonna kill me, Milord?" The thief breathed a too-hasty sigh of relief as the youth shook his head.

"Why should I?" came the terse reply. "I'll let the Tribunal see to you." He folded his arms across his broad chest. "I hear the Labyrinth is nice this time of year."

Fear blazed across the man's face and he jerked in horror. "Kill me, Sir!" he pleaded, his free hand going up in submission. "I'd rather die than go to Tyber's Isle!"

Stooping over his captive, the young man grinned. "Do you know who I am?" he asked pleasantly. He hunkered beside the man. "Have you any idea at all?"

The thief vigorously shook his head. "No, Milord," he said, his voice breaking.

"Well, I think I should tell you," the lad said with weariness. He leaned over and put his lips to the thief's ear.

As the name registered in the bowlegged man's befuddled brain, he blanched white as freshly fallen snow and moaned in despair. There was no doubt in his mind the lad was telling the truth. He looked away and shuddered. "The gods have mercy," he whispered.

"They might. I won't," the lad said with a harsh snort. "And now you know why you'll spend the remainder of your life in the Labyrinth," the youth told his captive and then stood, his eyes going to the opened doorway where there was sudden movement. He frowned. "It took you long enough."

One of the two men who came hurrying through the doorway wore the livery of a military captain. The medallion of his rank was pinned to his wide chest. He was tall, over seven feet in height, with a shock of gleaming, bright red stubble on his oversized skull. His forehead sloped dramatically downward over small black eyes and his mouth was large with rubbery lips that were set in a prim line of worry. His big hands gripped a broadsword that required both hands to wield. "Are you all right?"

With a shrug of disdain, the young man looked down his nose at the Captain of the Guard, not an easy thing to accomplish since he had to crane his neck backwards to do so. "Why wouldn't I be?" The blond youth snickered.

The captain let out a ragged breath and shook his massive head, glancing over at his companion, a man wearing the livery of a lieutenant. A look passed between them and both turned their attention back to the youth. "Me and Edan were worried about you," the captain said, closing his eyes in thanksgiving and relief that his charge was in one piece.

"There was, of course, no need," the young man said haughtily, sniffing at the tall man's concern. He pretended to dust an imaginary particle of lint from his torn sleeve. "I am quite capable of defending myself."

The second guard chuckled. "Didn't I tell you what he'd say?"

A heavy sigh of hopelessness gushed from the Captain of the Guard. He shook his head. "One of these days..." His rubbery face turned crimson with anger. "If you persist in going off on these forays by yourself, you're gonna come up against the one man you can't best!"

A disdainful lift of the young man's shoulders was his answer to the dire prediction.

"Oh, the demons take you!" the captain spat and bent over the bowlegged thief. "What's to be done with this one?" He gave the dead innkeeper a cursory glance then pointed to the unconscious thief. "Is that one dead, too?"

"Nope. Take them back to Boreas with you."

The captain turned his head and looked at the youth. "Aren't you coming?"

"Yes."

Another sigh as he and the other guard unpinned the thief's wrist, ignoring the man's shriek of pain. "Any time soon?"

Another shrug. "Maybe."

"Will you be riding with us?" the captain asked as he helped to support the thief's limp weight.

"I'll catch up with you."