Silas
He had only been asleep for a couple of hours when Robar shook him awake.
"Soldiers," he said. "Coming down from the north. I had Jeson out keeping watch."
Silas sprang to his feet and grabbed the sword he had taken from the Mediator. "How many?"
"Twenty, or more. Too many for you to fight, too close for you to flee. This way." He brought Silas to the carriage, and knocked on the door. "Sena, can we enter?"
"Yes," his wife said. "Hurry."
Robar opened the door to the carriage and shoved Silas inside. Sena was there, but Eryn was gone.
"Where is she?" Silas asked. "She was too sick to leave."
"Silas, is that you?" The muffled voice came from beneath the bench seat of the carriage.
"Eryn?"
"She's fine," Sena said. "I don't know how, but even her fever has gone." She bent over and lifted the cushion of the opposite bench. She slid her hand along the wood until she found a latch of some kind, and flicked her wrist. Then she lifted the wooden surface, revealing a space just big enough for him to press himself into.
"It's going to be a tight squeeze," Robar said.
Silas climbed in. "It beats a grain sack any day." He lowered himself down and curled up.
Sena dropped the seat over him, and then the two minstrels sat, one on either side. A few minutes later, they heard the clomping of hooves, and Jeson's voice.
"Right you are, My Lord. Come around and take a look, all the time you need. We've got nothing to hide. We're just a band of minstrels, we play this route every year. You may have heard of us? 'Robar's Rapscallions', we're called."
As if on queue, Sena started yelling. "If I told you once, I told you a thousand times Robar, 'Your Merry Stones' is not appropriate for the Overlord!"
"But Sena, darling," Robar pleaded. "Even the Overlord has a sense of humor, I'm sure."
"Sense of humor? Is that why we were banned from Lord Malicent's manor? Because he has no sense of humor?"
"I didn't know she was his wife," Robar shouted.
"You lifted her skirt right in front of him," she cried.
"Yes, My Lord." Jeson's voice filtered in between their bickering. "That's Robar's carriage, he's in there with his wife. Yes, My Lord, they do that a lot."
"I heard that," the both shouted out of the carriage at once, before returning to their fighting.
"No, My Lord. I'm sure they'd be happy to speak to you." It was followed by a knock on the door.
"What do you mean?" Robar shouted. "I change every day."
The knock came again, more persistent.
"Robar, be quiet. Somebody's knocking."
The carriage shook as Sena went to the door to open it.
The voice outside was deep and gruff. "We're looking for two fugitives..."
"Aye, I've heard about the fugitives," Sena said. "A girl and a man with white hair, right? I ain't seen 'em."
She must have tried to swing the door closed, because it squeaked on its hinges. Silas heard a bump.
"Out, right now," the voice ordered. "Or your next show will be short a few instruments."
There was some shifting and shuffling. Silas could hear the two bards exit the carriage.
"Where are they?" the soldier asked. The tone of his voice worried Silas. He carefully pushed against the seat, but the latch was locked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Robar said. "It's just the six of us. We've seen no others."
He heard the sound of metal against leather, and then a short gasp. Sena screamed.
"The five of you, now," the soldier said. His voice dropped. "Find the others, and bring them here."
Silas pushed against the bench again, but it didn't give.
"Eryn," Silas whispered, hoping she could hear him, but the soldier couldn't.
"Silas?"
She did hear him.
"We need to get out of here. Robar will either give us up, or they will kill the minstrels and burn everything they own to make sure they aren't hiding us somewhere. Can you get out?"
"Let me ask you again," the soldier said. "Where are they?"
Robar's voice was more panicked. "I told you, we haven't seen the fugitives. Killing my people won't make that any less true."
"Silas, mine's stuck too," Eryn whispered.
Silas considered bashing against the platform, but they would be caught for sure. "Your Curse," he said. "Can you use it to open the lock?"
"I don't know. I'll try."
Silas heard more shuffling feet; the rest of the minstrel troupe being brought before the commander.
"I'll ask you one more time, before I kill another minstrel," the commander said. "I know they're here, or were here. There was a messenger who survived an attack on one of our camps. He met us on the road to Elling. He distinctly remembers seeing a dappled mare in the field nearby. Keep that in mind when you answer my question. Where are they?"
Silas choked on his breath. He had overlooked the horse. Robar, his wife, and the rest of the minstrels were going to die, and it was all his fault. It didn't matter what they said, because they had already lied. They couldn't and wouldn't be trusted.
"Eryn?"
She didn't answer.
"Eryn?"
They needed to get out, now.
"Okay," Robar said. "The fugitive, Silas Morningstar, came into our camp. He demanded a horse. He threatened to kill my wife there. We had no choice." His voice was filled with fear.
"Eryn?"
She didn't answer. He had no choice but to try to break his way out. He closed his eyes and tried to coil as much force as he could into his body before he shoved against the seat.
"And he brought the horse back?" the commander asked.
"I... uh... I... we were sleeping," Robar said. "He must have returned with it in the middle of the night."
Silas heard a small click. He released his tense body, and pushed lightly on the seat. It shifted up. She had done it! He pushed it open as slowly as he dared, and was greeted by a pair of brown eyes peering in.
"Silas?"
"Shhh.." Silas said. "We're going to have to fight our way out."
Eryn held up her bow. "I'm ready."
"Two more questions for you, minstrel," the commander said outside the carriage. "One, why didn't you tell me this the first time I asked? Two, why would he take your horse, and then return it?"
Silas climbed out of the hidden compartment, lifting the sword behind him. He leaned forward, and inched away the curtain covering their view of the outside. He saw the back of Robar and Sena's heads and the commander of the soldiers in front of them, a bloody knife in hand. The other three minstrels were being held by soldiers, who were flanked by three more soldiers on horseback.
Silas motioned for Eryn to give him the bow. She passed it over, and then drew an arrow from her quiver and handed it to him. He notched it and drew it back before using the tip to push the curtain aside once more.
"Well?" the commander asked. He walked over to one of the captives and put the knife to her throat. "I expect you'll have a reasonable answer."
"Please," Robar said. "She's done nothing. I... I let him take the horse. I... just kill me instead. You're going to kill me anyway. There's no point for you to kill her too."
He put his face right up to the female minstrel, and then looked at Robar. "You're right," he said. "Take her back to the others. We'll bring these three to the mines."
The three bards began to struggle at that, but the soldiers held them tight.
"We have to do something," Eryn whispered.
"No, we have to wait. The mines are a better fate than what will await them if we show our hand right now."
The soldiers pulled the minstrels away, leaving the commander and the three on horseback. The lead soldier approached Robar again.
"This is for lying," he said.
He turned, his dagger headed for Sena's throat.
The force from the arrow that pierced his shoulder pushed him off course and made him to drop the knife before it could reach her. He cursed in pain and surprise, grabbing for the shaft at first, and then thinking the better of it and going for his sword.
The hesitation and indecision was all Silas needed to pull open the carriage door, drop the bow, grab his sword, and jump out. He shoved Robar and Sena apart with his shoulders, and stabbed the soldier in the gut.
"You should have just left," he said to the man.
The men on the horses began to shout, drawing their swords. A few seconds later, another arrow came through the window of the carriage, hitting one of them in the neck and knocking him from his horse.
"You need to get out of here," Silas said, pushing Robar in the direction of their horses.
He ran towards the vacant charger and jumped, his foot catching the stirrup and helping him slide easily into the saddle. He wheeled the horse with confidence, pointing it towards the other two soldiers while another arrow flew out from the carriage. It missed its target, but it was enough of a distraction to give Silas time to reach the man and easily slip his guard, planting the point of his own blade between a pair of ribs.
The remaining horseman spurred his own charger forward, sword out to his right and angling for the kill. Silas brought his own blade around, and they met in a sharp clash of metal. The Mediator's sword broke the other into pieces, the force of the impact leading the shining blade right through the soldier's neck. Both head and body tumbled from the horse and onto the grass.
"Eryn, it's time to go," Silas shouted. "Robar, take your wife and ride. Head east past the villages and make your way to the Killorn Mountains. They won't follow you."
"What about the others?" he asked. "They're musicians, not miners."
"I'm sorry. I truly am. We can't help them right now."
Robar grabbed Sena's hand and started running for their horses. The rest of the soldiers who had waited near the road were headed their way. Eryn popped out of the carriage, her bow and quiver across her back. Silas rode towards her, leaning over.
"Give me your arm," he said. She reached up and he took hold of her, pulling hard to bring her up behind him. "Hold on tight."