The ocean was three days away only because the caravan stopped in every city and barely matched walking speed. If Jasson had walked, he would have been there with blistered feet soaking.
He found out why Grog took the Caravan quite quickly. The man's nose was in a book. Jasson had been keeping his Do-A-Lingo goals, but he wasn't about to ask to see what Grog was reading.
Also, to walk alone was to invite bandits.
Jasson could just catch the scent of the sea on the breeze. His family had made the trip occasionally. He'd been watching Skippy-de-toilette at the time. Which wasn't that bad of a brain rot, but…
Jasson sighed and looked out the window, that familiar ache returning. An octave harmony with the discordant grief of Dockson.
A glint in the forest. More glints. Sunset stretched along the road, clouds briefly parting for the sun to glitter across some forty points.
"What is that?" Jasson said.
Grog didn't look up from his book. He looked…tense. Rigid as his eyes rapidly cut across the page, taking word after word in.
"Huh," Jasson said, watching the glint rise, "it's something- oh. Arrows."
Jasson leaned back away from the windows and said, "Grog, I believe that we're being ambushed right now."
Grog didn't move and Jasson said, a little more panicked, "We're under attack!"
Thud!
An arrow flew through the window and thudded into something very solid. Grog's leg. He wafted the arrow away like it was a mosquito.
"#$&^%!," Jasson said, "That's a good book."
Shouting erupted throughout camp and Jasson hid behind the wood as arrows rained down. The horses neighed and the carriage lurched, breaking forward. Jasson hoped that the driver would get it under control. Until he saw the driver diving off.
Crap.
The horses broke free of the caravan, towing the carriage behind them. They gathered speed, although not as much as they would like since they were currently pulling Grog. Their mouths frothed, already tired muscled screaming.
They were going to crash. Jasson hadn't survived anything like a crash before. He had this vivid picture of the burning wreckage, his own body mangled in the wreckage. Grog still sitting and turning the page.
Jasson crawled out of the window, embedded arrows providing good handholds. He clawed at the wood as the carriage hit a bump, nearly throwing him. Jasson climbed, feet scrabbling, and managed to roll onto the roof.
Bump.
Jasson screamed as his entire body lifted from the carriage. Instead of falling back, he flew forward a couple of feet. He landed on his hands and knees, shaking.
Just a few more feet, then he'd be in the driver's seat. He could see the reins waiting for him. Jasson shuffled forward before-
Bump!
Jasson had a grip this time. Unfortunately, the horses decided to slow significantly this time. Jasson flipped forward, arm twisting as he head and audible pop. Jasson screamed and let go. He fell off of the roof of the carriage.
And right into the driver's seat.
Jasson locked his legs around the seat and grabbed the reigns in both hands. He hauled back and hissed, fire stabbing into his shoulder like the worst Russian knife game player. Jasson took a breath, the healing crystal now braced against his bare leg.
It was then that the horses decided to bolt again.
Jasson was flying back, both wrists wrapped in the reigns. This resulted in Jasson pulling on the reigns in quite the dramatic and heroic way. The horses themselves decided to slow to a stop. It worked quite well.
If you ignore him screaming and crying and then, understandably, passing out.
****
"Oi," something shook Jasson's shoulder, "Are you okay?"
Since the shaken shoulder was his injured shoulder, Jasson woke up screaming.
"Ahh!" The voice said, "let a man back away before screaming in his ear like that. You're not a &$^% goat."
"Sorry," Jasson hissed, nausea churning as his backwards arm drifted into focus, "Medkit."
With a flash of pink light, Jasson sighed as his shoulder snapped back together. He focused on the person who had been speaking.
"Oh, wow," the man said, "All healed up now. And a wizard. Perfect."
The man pointed a crossbow in Jasson's face, "Now give me all your money. And don't give me any trouble. My arrow is faster than anything you can do at this range."
"Bolt," Jasson said. Then the bandit shot him in the shoulder.
"AAAH!" Jasson screamed, holding his shoulder, "Medkit!"
With a flash of pink light, the bolt was pushed out of Jasson's shoulder.
"What the heck?" Jasson said, "Why'd you shoot me?"
"You said a spell," the bandit said, crossbow on the ground, "you were gonna bolt."
"I was not!" I said, watching the man pull out a small pulley and fix it to the string.
"Exactly what a runner would say," the bandit said, "You know, I could have shot you in the leg. But I find people don't run as well without swinging their arms."
"I was correcting you," Jasson said, "You're using a crossbow. Those fire bolts, not arrows."
"Do they now?" The bandit looks down, "Sure looks like an arrow to me. What's the difference?"
"Length, I think." Jasson said, "let me look it up."
Jasson brought up his phone. Grog was within range so he got usable speeds.
"Okay," Jasson said, "it says that it is the length and stiffness of the shaft. The fletching on the end is also important."
"Aye," the bandit snickered, "if ya say so."
"Anyway," Jasson said, "You were robbing me?"
"Not you particularly," The bandit said, "Coachmen ain't got much. But usually a crystal or two, like that healing one you been flashing. Then I'm off to inside the coach. They've been so quiet. I can practically hear them frozen in fear."
Jasson raised his eyebrows and said, "Somehow, I doubt that."
"What to you know?" The bandit snarled, "Healing crystal. And your locker. Now."
"Don't got a locker," Jasson said, pocketing his phone and pulling the healing crystal from it's skin to rock holster. "But here. It's a natural crystal. Should fetch a good price."
"And that viewing crystal," The man said, "I've been itching for some crystal. Haven't had one since I burnt through the last dozen cat videos."
Jasson hesitated. His phone usually reappeared in his pocket, but he didn't know if it happened when he gave it away. But that crossbow did hurt.
Jasson held up his phone and said, "You'll have to steal it from me."
Without a second glance, the bandit snatched it from Jasson's phone and said, "That's why I'm here. Now, no funny business or your passenger gets a new thinking hole-"
"YOU *&^%$!" Someone called from the distance, toward the main caravan, "You're keeping this all to yourself? While we gather the valuables."
The bandit cursed and walked around to the door, and Jasson said, "I wouldn't do that. He's reading a book right now."
"What the *(&% are you-"
The bandit opened the door, leveled his crossbow, and stared into the carriage. In the following quiet, Jasson could hear Grog turn the page. Soft as snowfall, the bandit lowered his crossbow and closed the door.
"Ah," The bandit said as his compatriots rode closer, "You got me. I opened the door and thought better off squirrelling away something when you all were coming. Go ahead, lead the way sir. I'll even open the door for you."
"No you won't," The new bandit leader said, "You're going to empty your pockets and then run back home. Don't even think about riding your horse and- hey! That's a nice healing crystal. And a viewing crystal? Score."
"It was his," The bandit thumbed at Jasson, sighed and said, "Alas. I am out played. That was a lovely nest egg but I am set flying home alone. Just…wait until I'm out of si- I mean. Wait until the treasure is out of sight of me. I am tortured enough. Oh, and have this crossbow. Careful, it's loaded."
Then the bandit walked away, and after forty feet or so, broke into a dead run. Peeling away from sight.
"Wow," Jasson said, "you guys really intimidated him. I hope you give him a good thrashing to follow up on that. Otherwise it will be a bluster."
"Shut up," The leader threw open the door and said, "Now give me all your money or I'll fill you full of iron, wood, and duckfeather."
Jasson held his breath, watching the carriage door crash open and slowly bounce back. The bandit leader of this small group snarled and kicked the door open again. Knocking it in disrupting disgrace from its hinges.
The leader was rather slower than the first bandit had been. He didn't seem to put together the implication of what he was seeing. Not until Jasson heard the sharp crack of Grog's book snapping shut.
"Your crossbow bolt will also be oiled with rendered pig fat," Grog said, making the other bandits look at the sky in confusion, "Don't forget to add that to your threat. Maybe work it into an insult. I would normally give an example, but I just finished my chapter and wish to…reflect on it. Have some patience. I'll give you something extremely valuable in a minute."
"Y-you will?" The leader said, smiling tightly.
"Of course," Grog said, "Humility is extremely valuable. For some fools, it costs all that they have. I'll even throw in the life lesson for free."
"Oh," the leader said, "thank you?"
One of the bandits in the back said, "What's going on? Should I fetch the boss?"
"Don't move a muscle," the leader hissed from the corner of his mouth, "We are being very respectful right now."
"Why?" The bandit in the back said, "Whoever it is can't kill all of us."
"Oh yes he can," Jasson said from on top of the carriage, "If he hadn't been busy reading then you'd all be dead."
Jasson hopped down and took back his healing crystal and his phone, then said, "Since he was reading, and since it was such a good chapter, he's in a good mood."
Jasson stepped back and admired how they sweated like a stuck pig. Jasson said, "As you wait for his judgment, I'm going back to the caravan to inform them rest of you of the terms of surrender."
Jasson loaded his phone with a fire crystal and jogged back toward the caravan. The trees were pretty far out to either side. He could get away with a flashy burst to the sky. The wagons were a few hundred feet away, and slightly smoking already.
On the outside of the caravan, a handful of somewhat mopey bandits saw him coming. They said something to each other, garbling the words with twisted rotting teeth. Hesitantly, they pointed crossbows at the strangely confident Jasson.
Jasson raised his phone into the air and fired a warning shot.
Woosh!
The tree leaves curled, Jasson's hair singed, and frigid Fall fled before the hellish heat. The growing evening lit up from the massive flamethrower above. Every head turned to look.
"Attention," Jasson shouted, "this caravan is under the protection of Grog, the Guildmaster of the Stalt Adventurer's guild. He is currently in a good mood."
Jasson walked up to the now singed bandits and said, "If you want him to stay in a good mood, please drop your weapons and surrender. If even a single one of you make it away, then he will be in a bad mood with everyone else."
Jasson grinned, brimming with confidence as the bandits started swearing. Some other bandits were rounding the wagons and carts, drawn to the commotion.
Jasson put a finger on the tip of one crossbow and pushed it down, saying, "I once watched him beat a hundred-foot basilisk to death. Not with his bare hands, mind you. But that hardly matters, does it?"
Jasson held his breath. There was no guarantee that this would work. They might not even recognize Grog's name.
As one, every bandit bolted for the hills.
"#$^%," Jasson leveled his flamethrower then hesitated. He would start a forest fire like this.
I should have equipped a water crystal, Jasson thought as he watched each and every bandit disappear into the woods beyond.
Ah well. Can't win them all.