Mid-morning on the Second Sphere, two men in dark clothes and a motley assortment of armor sat by a dying fire. The taller of the two was stringing a longbow nearly the size of himself, while the other alternated between sharpening two longswords and engraving a stone. Both had two lives—one for living, the other for dying.
"It occurs to me that I always lose this game."
"Not true, you just lose most of the time. I think you're getting better, actually."
"I think you're just saying that so I keep playing. Every time I lose, I have to risk my life while you sit back and do nothing."
"Again, not true. If I did nothing, you wouldn't just risk your life—you'd lose it. Well… some of it."
Caldri grinned and scurried up the hill overlooking the road. The early morning dew was just beginning to dry, and a warm breeze blew in from the southern sphere.
"What's it look like?"
"Hard to tell," Caldri replied, peering into the distant forest with a hint of dissatisfaction.
"No crest, markings, or wards have been placed, and the guards aren't from any of the families I know. Could be anyone's—but the dead and the dying."
"I don't like it. If it were a normal caravan, they would've taken the Orions' road. We've hit three traders in three months that looked just like this one. Old Martemere can't be happy about that."
Roland continued, "The lack of wards is also making me a little nervous. The last time we saw something like that, it was the Bannerless."
Climbing up the hill, Roland asked,
"How far off are they?"
Finally looking away from the forest, Caldri glanced at him.
"About ten minutes."
"How many guards?"
"Four. All in heavy armor—two spears, one sword, and one crossbow," Caldri replied, eyes still fixed on the trees.
"And the caravan itself?"
"Just one carriage. Looks like they're transporting a chest on top with the driver, but there could be more inside."
Caldri spoke again after a short pause,
"I say we do it. We need a little more coin before the floods reach Torrent. I'd much rather be drowning in gold than actually drowning."
"It's a bad idea, Cal."
Roland looked over at Caldri, who raised his eyebrows silently.
"Let's get this over with then," Roland said in an exasperated voice.
Caldri grinned, and both men rolled up their sleeves and unsheathed their swords. Caldri pretended to think for a moment, then said,
"Would you like to go first?"
Roland stared at him for a moment, then replied,
"I've better luck when you go first."
Caldri shrugged.
"Your choice. On three."
Roland gritted his teeth, picked up a stone, and hid it in one hand where Caldri couldn't see. Then he held both hands in front of him.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
Both men counted,
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
Caldri sliced off Roland's left hand.
It hit the ground with a wet thud—blood, bone, and muscle spilling onto the dirt, along with a small black stone.
Roland grimaced.
"Another loss. That makes five in a row. I must've pissed off one of the Archons… or maybe one of them just really likes you."
Caldri smiled and flipped his sword toward Roland.
"Will it be one or two swords for Sir Roland today?"
Roland sighed.
"Just one today. I'll need power if im to get through full plate."
As his hand began to grow back, Caldri continued,
"I didn't see any wards—but that doesn't mean they aren't there. Did you finish the engraving for the arrowhead?"
Roland smiled for the first time that morning and grabbed the stone he had been carving.
"It's right here. It should work against anything that wasn't made by an Arbiter or Archon."
He handed Caldri the engraved arrowhead. It was larger than a typical one, and instead of a metal tip, it was carved stone, faint light emanating from the runes etched into its surface.
Still grinning, Roland asked,
"Well?"
"It'll do."
"Great. Then let's get set. I'll run in when I see the ward arrow hit—so the timing's on you."
Caldri thought for a second.
"When the ward arrow hits, my second shot goes for the one with the crossbow. You take the one closest to you. If you can drop him quickly, we'll have a much easier time."
Roland nodded.
"Sounds like a plan. If the driver fights back—or anyone inside comes out—I'll have to kill them too."
Caldri nodded curtly.
"Go hide in the forest's edge. Let them pass you and wait for my arrow."
Roland mockingly saluted and ran off.
Taking one last look at the caravan through the trees, Caldri made sure he hadn't missed anything—then began his calculations.
To Caldri, using a bow was mathematics.
He first went to where his arrow would land and counted the paces back to his hiding spot, adjusting for elevation. He weighed the arrow in his hands.
When the caravan was about ten seconds from his mark, he aimed upward and fired.
He immediately readied his second shot—this one for the crossbow-wielding knight.
The first arrow fell from the sky, perfectly aimed at the top of the carriage.
Caldri loosed his second arrow—
—and then something peculiar happened.
A moment before the ward arrow made contact, an invisible dome shimmered into existence around the caravan, like heat rising from desert sand.
Instead of breaking through as Roland had promised, the arrow was repelled and slammed into the ground.
Caldri's second arrow was also rejected—launched sideways into a nearby hill, punching clean through it.
Caldri realized two things.
The first—
Roland was not charging out of the woods.
The second—
The knights were already staring directly at him.