I studied the parchments Gitto had given me. They contained the names and locations of two Void Wigons who haven’t paid for services rendered. The first yaksha, Condori, was last seen in Kukuri. The second yaksha, Pillpe, lived in Sonnco.

  Sonnco, was nowhere near Kusi Vilca. But Kukuri was practically on the way. The Fafard River connected Kukuri to Fafard Arbour, allowing swift travel by boat, but it flowed in the opposite direction when heading from the port to Kukuri. The strong current would make traveling by boat more difficult than taking a horse or even walking. “We will cross the Arbour River and take the Fafard Footpath to Kukuri.”

  Miles glanced at me with a surprised look on his face. “Might I offer a suggestion?” He cleared his throat. “As someone who had lived in Fafard Arbour his entire life.”

  “Both you and Victoria are welcome to offer input without the need for asking permission.” I stretched my sore back. “As long as you accept the final decisions that I make.”

  He nodded. “The Fafard Trail is quite rough, adding a night’s travel for the same distance on a decent road. Not to mention the bandits.”

  “Bandits?” Victoria asked.

  Miles answered, “Since last winter they have ambushed several merchants, stealing their cargo or their sale proceeds. Rumor is, they charge anyone using the trail a tax, lest they get robbed and killed.”

  My blood boiled as I wondered how any group of thieves could operate so close to the capital, disrupting the largest trade route to Port Qori.

  “We’d arrive nights earlier if we head to Pillku Cuya and take Stronghold Road to Kusi Vilca,” Miles said.

  “That would be the fastest route, but I have to stop in Kukuri, which will take us out of our way.” I had already done the math. Going from Fafard Arbour to PillKu Caya, then diverting to Kukuri before returning to Stronghold Road would add as many nights as traveling the Fafard Trail. “We shall take the trail, stopping in Chinpo for supplies.”

  Miles nodded. “I’ll ready the horses for travel.”

  I added logs to the fire Miles had started. We had stopped riding when Patra set, using the red light of Filus to set up the camp. By my estimation, we had made it slightly more than halfway to Chinpo. By leaving as soon as Patra rose, we’d be able to arrive well before it became dark.

  Digging through my saddlebags, I retrieved what little food supplies we had. After returning half, I split the rest into three portions. It wouldn’t be enough to make us full, but would stave off hunger and allow us to sleep. Along with procuring more food, we needed a bow and some spears. My hammer, while a perfect weapon of war, wasn’t the proper tool for hunting.

  As Filus began to set, we moved the warmed talc stones to the tents.

  Victoria climbed into hers.

  Miles was about to enter his, but saw me peering into the distance. He walked over to me. “Do you see something?”

  I nodded. “Another fire, only about three shots away.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “That’s close. What are the chances they don’t notice ours?”

  “Not high.” I paused. “Tell me again about the bandits.”

  He scratched his chin. “From the accounts I’ve heard, they are encountered closer to Chinpo.”

  “Perhaps they steal there but camp out this way.” While that might be the case, I realized it was more likely that they would camp half a night’s travel from Chinpo, in order to be positioned to rob traders again the next night. But I didn’t like the idea of someone’s camp being so close to ours. “I’m going to go check it out. Stay here and guard the camp.”

  Miles nodded.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I wasn’t a delusional yaksha, realizing my size made it unlikely that I’d be an effective stealth fighter. Carrying the extra weight of the hammer didn’t help. Even if I aimed for moss and dirt, my enormous feet couldn’t help but break twigs and crunch dry leaves. Over time, I had realized that trying to be sneaky, and failing at it, was an effective way to put others on edge. Instead, I walked like a man who didn’t mind making noise. Others would hear me either way. By not trying to sneak, they are less likely to think I’m planning something devious.

  As I approached the camp, the light from their fire became less consistent. This likely meant they already knew I was coming. Something had caused them to scurry around the camp, moving in front of the fire, which altered the shadows it cast. They were likely either preparing to defend themselves or hiding something they didn’t want anyone to see.

  As I closed in, the whispers started. I couldn’t make out any of the words, but heard at least three distinct voices. Figuring that they had at least one person there that wasn’t much of a talker, I guessed they had a crew of three to six yaksha.

  “I mean no harm,” I said as I started making out silhouettes by the fire. Three figures stood near their flames, each appearing to be holding objects.

  “What’s your intent?” A man with a gravely voice asked. In my head, I pictured him as having gray hair and using a walking stick.

  “I set up a camp nearby. Won’t feel comfortable sleeping until I meet the neighbors.” Moving slowly, I continued advancing.

  “We’re traders. No threat to you or yours,” a woman’s voice called out. She sounded younger than the first man, but not by a lot.

  I stopped moving as I reached the tree line, finally able to make out some of the details of the three yaksha. “May I approach your fire?”

  “How many are with you?” The older man asked.

  “The others stayed at camp. I’m alone.”

  “How many at camp.” The woman asked.

  “Enough.”

  She sighed. “Any of them a Gothi or Gyoja?”

  “No.” I stepped from the trees and entered their camp. “Are you seeking spiritual advice or a healer?”

  “Healer.” She ran her empty hand through her red, gray-streaked hair, holding a knife in her other hand. “Our friend is wounded.”

  The older man, who indeed had gray hair and leaned on a stick, peered at me. “You have plans for that hammer?”

  “Sure. I have a few ideas. But none of them become necessary unless someone raises arms against me first.” I took another step. “Can I warm myself by the fire?”

  “Sure,” a younger man, who looked to be a more capable fighter than the other two, said. He held a wood cutters ax with both hands. “You can warm yourself at your camp. I’m sure you have a fire there.”

  “Hamet,” A man’s voice called out from a tent. It wasn’t the one person type tent I had back at camp, but one I’d expect to see on a battlefield for the leadership. “Don’t be rude.” He stepped outside and stretched, locking eyes with me. “We aren’t normally like this. Being robbed has a way of putting a yaksha on edge.”

  “Robbed?” I asked. “By who?”

  “By Robbers,” the woman said.

  Hamet spoke up. “Six men. Highly trained. They wore light leather armor and carried fine weaponry.” He shook his head. “I think they looked more like mercenaries than robbers.” Staring down at his shoes, he added, “We cooperated, turning over our wares, but they still stabbed Habib.”

  The woman said, “They took one look at him and decided a man that size wouldn’t give up without a fight. But Habib was never much of a fighter. He lacks the smarts for it.”

  “May I see him?” I asked.

  Hamet raised his eyebrows, “Are you a Gothi?”

  I shook my head. “But I’ve seen my share of injuries on the battlefield. I don’t have a healing potion, but I might be able to provide some aid, perhaps making him well enough to survive until you find a healer.”

  Hamet glanced at the man standing outside the tent. “What do you think Samou?”

  Samou peered inside the tent, then turned his focus to me. He stared, as if trying to gauge whether I could be trusted.

  I locked eyes with Samou. “I’m a Mallma Knight, armed with a hammer gifted to me by a Dvergr who fought beside me in several battles. If I meant to do harm, I wouldn’t waste my time asking permission.”

  Samou nodded, stepped to the side, and held the tent flap open.

  I took my time walking across the camp, strolling past the fire and into the tent. The woman broke away from the fire and followed me.

  A shirtless yaksha was sprawled out on a pile of hay. The man wasn’t as large as me, but big enough to intimidate most. I knelt beside him and pulled away the cloth he had wrapped around him. Below was a wound I could nearly stick my fist in. “What weapon did they use?”

  “Aby said the man swung a flanged mace,” Samou said.

  I glanced at the woman. “What condition was the weapon in, Aby?”

  She said, “It looked new.”

  A fire burned in my stomach. That wasn’t a weapon often wielded by thieves. But many in the Mallma infantry carried such an item. Were the robbers former soldiers that had become robbers after the War of Ingens Salvos, or were they under orders to cause havoc?

  I leaned closer and sniffed the wound, pulling back when I smelled rotten eggs. “This is festering. Rinse it with clean water and keep it covered with a new cloth after each rinse.”

  Aby snickered. “We were transporting cloth. The thieves didn’t leave us with any.”

  I pulled in a deep breath, and my hands balled up into fists. Thieves normally targeted goods that were easier to transport and sell. Were they more interested in sewing discourse than a monetary gain? Removing my cloth belt, I handed it to Aby. “Boil this before using it. I’ll stop back when Patra rises to deliver more.”

  After standing up, I turned to face Samou. “I’d like to have a word with these bandits.” I paused. “When I stop back with the cloth, can you help me and my crew look more like merchants heading back home after selling our wares?”