Under a sky turning the color of old bronze, two riders moved slowly along Bloodwave Cape Road. Trees on either side rustled in the evening breeze, whispering like dry leaves.
Tiberius sat straight in the saddle, Zera riding right beside him. The slave girl was trembling—whether from the fading light or being alone with him, he couldn't tell. But thanks to his mix of "kindness" and not-so-subtle threats, she was still behaving.
"Don't worry," Tiberius said softly, reaching over to pat her shoulder. "The bandits probably ran off days ago. We might not even see them."
His gentle tone calmed her a little.
What she didn't know was that inside Tiberius was cursing up a storm.
[Come on, you bastards—the bait is right here! Are you fucking blind?]
Just as he was starting to lose patience—
He heard whistles. Not from behind where Vito and Jules were supposed to be, but from both sides of the treeline.
Tiberius knew the main group was still too far away for their signals to reach him.
[Finally. Fish on the line.]
"Zera," he leaned in close, voice low and urgent. "Take this whistle. Put it to your lips and blow like your life depends on it if anything happens. Understand?"
Zera's face went white.
"They're… the ones who took the young lady… they're here?" She was on the verge of tears.
"Yes," Tiberius answered bluntly. No point lying now.
"Listen to me, Sister Zera. I need you alive so you can tell Lord Lysandro the truth—there really are bandits on Bloodwave Cape. So right now, kick that mare into a trot and get out of here. Go!"
"But what about you…" Zera didn't feel any heroic sense of duty; she just looked ready to cry. "And me… if they catch you, they'll catch me too!"
Tiberius was getting annoyed. Just run, woman. Stop talking.
Still, he kept the gentle smile on his face.
"Don't worry—you're wearing mail under that robe. They can't kill you. The second you start blowing the whistle, Uncle Jules and the knights will come charging. You know they're right behind us." He gave her little mare a firm slap on the rump to get her moving.
As Zera clung desperately to the horse's mane and trotted ahead, the corner of Tiberius's mouth curved into a cold little smile.
[Perfect. Bait is right in front of them. A boy and a woman. Wonder which one they'll pick first.]
Run, run, run—
Zera's mind kept screaming the same word as she hugged the horse's neck.
She was terrified of the Bloodwave Cape stories, terrified of the demons or bandits that had taken the young lady. Some tales said it wasn't even human—pure nightmare fuel.
She rounded a sharp bend where the road hugged a sheer cliff wall.
Then figures burst out of the trees.
Zera screamed.
They were here.
Four men, clubs in hand, waving them wildly to drive her and the mare into the corner.
Zera fumbled for the iron whistle Tiberius had given her and blew with everything she had, face turning beet red.
[Four of them!] Tiberius kicked his horse into a gallop, counted the bandits, and calmly drew both loaded hand crossbows.
The bandits didn't run when they saw him coming. Instead they raised their clubs and charged, shouting.
Tiberius's first bolt took one straight through the skull—dead before he hit the ground. The second slammed into the biggest bastard's belly.
But the other two were already on him.
One skinny thug swung his club straight at Tiberius's head.
"Fuck off!" Tiberius snarled. He flicked his wrist and sent the dagger from his belt flying. A flash of steel—straight into the skinny one's throat.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, pooling on the dirt.
Tiberius leaped off his horse and tried to yank the dagger free, but the blade was stuck fast in bone. He planted a boot on the corpse's shoulder and pulled harder.
Nothing.
"Shit!" he hissed.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the last bandit hesitate—anyone would after watching two friends die in seconds.
Then Tiberius spotted the huge brute still standing, the one he'd shot in the gut.
His eyes nearly bugged out.
The giant had reached down, grabbed the barbed crossbow bolt, and ripped it out of his own stomach. He was breathing hard, in obvious pain, but the club never left his hand.
"What the fuck— is this guy even human?" Tiberius muttered. "He just pulled that out?"
The wound should have dropped him. Instead the brute was still ready to fight.
Tiberius gave up on the stuck dagger. He grabbed Zera's hand and backed them both against the cliff wall.
Then—
Thwack.
The wet sound of a crossbow bolt punching through flesh.
Vito had arrived.
"Yes!" Tiberius's despair flipped to triumph.
"Fuck me, the kid's crazy plan actually worked!" Vito growled, already raising his second crossbow. Another bolt whistled out and tore through a bandit's guts, spilling intestines across the road.
Now only the massive brute remained—club raised, one hand pressed to his bleeding stomach, clearly weighing whether to keep fighting or run.
"Drop it!" Tiberius shouted, one arm protectively around Zera. "Surrender now and you live! We just want information!"
The man stared blankly, like he didn't understand a word of Common. After a moment he lifted the club again, ready to swing.
Tiberius and Zera had nowhere left to go but solid rock.
Thwack.
An arrow slammed into the brute's thigh—not from Vito, but from Jules's longbow.
"I want him alive!" Jules lowered his bow and barked at the knights. "Find out where their lair is—and where Lady Seraphys is!"
Finally, the twenty-plus White Company knights thundered around the bend.
The moment the giant doubled over in pain, Vito smashed an elbow into his back, then dropped a knee on him, pinning the huge man face-down in the dirt.
"Nice work, Vito!" Tiberius called.
The brute disappeared under a pile of veteran knights. Twenty battle-hardened sellswords all piling on one man at once? The poor bastard never stood a chance.