The bandit captain turned to his men and shouted so hard that he tasted the metallic tang of blood from the back of his throat, "YE BLOODY FOOLS LED HIM TA OUR HIDEOUT! Ye shoulda all died, each and every one o’ ye. ’Cuz if any o’ us make it out alive, I’m gonna bleed ye out slowly, and feed ye ta a fuckin’ rabid orc!"

"Err, boss, sir?" One of the bandit lackeys chimed in. "There’s no great motivation fer us ta live through this, then. Ye see, if we’re ta die either way, I’d rather go quick like. It seems like gettin’ blown ta bits by a wizard might be better than eaten alive by a damned orc."

Kren put his hands on his hips and fumed at the idiot. "Do ye truly think I’d feed me own men to a bloody orc? I’m just pissed off, ye shite-filled arsehole."

The bandits, as one, all became a little more relaxed at this revelation. Kren Blackvine had a reputation for being a merciless murderer, but he had never killed one of his own dwarves. But, as the humans are known for saying, there is a first time for everything.

"So what do we do, then?" another bandit asked their leader. This dwarf had skin as pale as milk, which stood out at night like a damned bonfire. So, as was done with any of Kren’s men with such skin, he was wrapped in black cloth from head to toe, even covering his mouth. Only his small, beady, black eyes showed. While this outfit concealed the filthy scoundrel from the dwarves they robbed at night along the main road into Kelgrond, it made the dwarf very hard to understand when he spoke.

"The fuck did he say, then?" Kren asked the rest of them. All of other twenty-three bandits shrugged in unison. "Not a clue," one even said.

The pale-skinned moon dwarf pulled the black cloth away from his mouth and said again, "So what do we do, then?"

Kren stalked the room. He paced back and forth while stroking his braided golden beard. His two short swords swung back and forth on his belt but did not make a sound. They were muffled with cloth, and had an extra layer of concealment in the way of magic; a silencing spell. He could draw the blades right behind someone, and they would never know it until the twin points erupted from their chest.

"We cannot stay here, that’s for certain," he said to his crew. "And we can’t rightly face the wizard out in the open in a fair fight. That’s not really our way, is it?" Kren added with a chuckle. The Blackvine Bandits all added their own laughs to their leader’s joke. "Nay, we do what we always do, lads. We set a trap on the road, and lay in wait. When the bastard gets close, we let him have it. Half of ye on one side o’ the road, the rest o’ ye on the other side. I’ll be in the rabbit hole. Once he steps past it, I’ll come out and stick him with these," Kren finished and patted his twin short swords.

"Great plan, boss," several dwarves muttered in order to appease their volatile captain. They didn’t need Kren going orcshite all over again just because his pride was hurt at not being congratulated on coming up with the same fucking plan that he always did. Yes, it worked all the time and had, in fact, never failed. Not once.

But this wasn’t some merchant with a few weak guards, or a few farmers on the way to sell their crops in the city. This was a wizard. Sure, he wasn’t one of the famous magic users in the kingdom of Kelgrond. Not like Eoin the Learned, the heroic dwarf who magicked an entire tribe of orcs to the other side of Asa-Thor with a wave of his staff. Or Slaint Severed, the shadowy nightmare to all humans that dared enter Hamyrn Forest.

The Blackvine Bandits had never even heard of this wizard, Ningh, before that day. Some of the crew had been doing some bridge duty nearby, illegally forcing the good dwarf folk to pay a fee for crossing. It was all going quite well, and their purses were jingling with stolen money around midday. Then an old dwarf with a short walking stick and a dusty old pack slung over his shoulder hobbled onto the bridge.

"Halt, ye old bugger," one of the bandits had snickered. "Yer no’ gonna cross for free."

"Yes, I am, ye wee criminals," Ningh had replied. "Now just ye fuck off, and I won’t kill ye."

"Who are you, then, that can take down two burly dwarves such as ourselves?" one bandit said with a threatening growl.

"Yeah, we have weapons, and we’re killers, too. Just pay us, old timer, and ye can go about yer day still breathin’," the other bandit added.

"Ta answer yer question, my name is Ningh. I be a wizard," and at that the elderly and stooped old dwarf rose upright, no longer hobbling along. He raised his short walking stick and pointed it at one the bandit who had growled at him. A yellow rod made of light flew forth from the tip of that stick, and struck the bandit in the chest. It spread over the dwarf, encasing him in a spiderweb of yellow light. As the bands of that web reached the bandit’s back, they plunged through his leather armor and into his flesh. With another flick of his short staff, Ningh caused the rip the thieving criminal apart into an explosion of gore and smoke.

The other bandit turned around and ran away, his partners who had been hidden down in the bushes joined him and they all fled back to the hideout. Ningh quickly cast a floating eye that followed the bastards. They hadn’t even noticed the little orb until they reached their lair and Kren has spotted the magical creation. Once his crew had explained what had went down at the bridge, he began screaming at them about leading the dangerous wizard here.

And now they had a plan.

The Blackvine Bandits assumed their practiced positions and kept quiet. Any talking could alert potential victims to their presence, so these hardened criminals were used to staying silent for hours. After a rather long time, four hours, to be exact, there was still no sign of the old bastard.

Kren grew impatient and leapt out of the rabbit hole, which was a trap door they had set into the road. As he did so, the leader of the bandit crew came face to face with another floating eye. But this time, it spoke to them.

"Nay, I have not come ta spring yer feeble trap. By the ancestors and the Gods that keep them, this is just embarrassin’, it is. Look, ye wee arseheads, I have need of some dwarves with your... credentials. I’ve a job for some of ye, some right nasty work. But I’ll only need four. So here is the deal. The first four of ye to reach my cottage gets the job. The rest of ye gets dead. And don’t think o’ runnin’ away. Whilst ye mongrels were hidin’ I was taggin’ ye all with tracin’ spells. If ye run, I’ll fine ye, and I’ll kill ye. So, down ta business. My cottage is only a stone’s throw from the Grinding Wheel Tavern. I know that ye all have visited there, so just go past it and about fifteen minutes walk ye’ll come to me cottage. Good luck to ye."

The floating eye then melted into a mutlicolored flow of some viscous liquid, which then turned to smoke before it hit the earthen road.

"So, what do we do, then?" the same moon dwarf from earlier asked, once again. This time he had removed his face cloth first to ensure everyone heard him.

Everyone looked to Kren Blackvine for answers. He began pacing, as he was known to do when deep in thought. He walked circles around the group of dwarf bandits, his own crew, and pondered the situation. His crew began to talk amongst themselves.

"I’m not goin’, then," said one bandit so covered in red hair he looked more like a bear than a hill dwarf.

"Yer ta die, then," replied another one, this fellow having skin so dark and ashy grey that he appeared to be made of smoke from a black fire. His name was uknown to the others, so they just called him Smoke. He seemed to like that. Smoke carried throwing axes all over his stout dwarven frame. His accuracy was second to none with those axes, and he was one of Kren’s favorites.

"Nay, I won’t," replied the other bandit, just before a short sword exploded from his chest.

A second dwarf, standing just to his right, sported an identical new protrusion. Kren stood behind them, no one having heard the bandit leader unsheath his devilish blades.

"All o’ ye are ta die, except for ye three," he said, indicating his favored trio of hard boiled bastards. They were brothers from the sea, and they were masters of swordplay. And at their leaders words, the brothers began to slaughter the former members of the Blackvine Bandits.

Smoke, a look of betrayal on his face, faded into the shadows of the evening with his dark skin. He tread lightly at first, then turned and sped off into the night, unnoticed.

Kren and the three sea brothers unleashed hell on the remaining dwarves. It was a massacre. The bloody work only fueled the criminals, and the four went mad with battle fever; roaring and cutting, growling and stabbing. Before long, the deed was done. Only the four remained, while the rest of the Blackvine Bandits lay in pieces on the earthen road. Former friends and compatriots stared back at them with sightless eyes. Their mouths still open in shock, but no breath would ever leave those lips again.

"Where’s smoke?" Kren said suddenly, as he surveyed the morbid scene.

The three brothers just shrugged. "Must o’ got way, boss," one of them said non-chalantly, as if it didn’t really matter.

"Ye bleedin’ fools! If he gets ta the cottage first, one o’ ye has ta die! Only four dwarves needed, do ye recall the wizard’s message?"

Realization showed on their bearded faces and they took off running towards the cottage. Silently, Kren chose his least favorite of the three. Just in case Smoke does reach Ningh’s home first, Kren would not leave it up to the wizard to decide which of the other four dies. Nyall, the worst of the three sea brothers would be the one, he decided. Nyall had always farted too much, anyway.

As the four bandits arrived at the wizard’s stone cottage, the old bastard was seated on a bench outside the front door. He stood to welcome them and called out, "Welcome, lads! Yer the first ta arrive. Lucky you! I take it the rest have been dealt with, then?"

Kren’s face broke out in a victorious grin. Smoke had not come. "Yes, wizard," the bandit leader replied joyfully. "The bloody work is done."

"Nay, it isn’t," Ningh replied. "I’ve a job that need’s doin’ and it’ll get messy, too, don’t ye doubt. These types of things always have a way of going awry."

The sea brothers nodded along as if they knew what the wizard was talking about, trying to get in his good graces. Suddenly, an odd whooshing sound rung out in the night air. A spinning axe came from the shadows nearby. It took Kren directly in the neck, embedding itself there. Blood sprayed from around the keen axe blade. As the dwarves all turned to find the source of the axe, a second one flew out of the shadows and sunk deep into Kren’s chest. The former leader of the Blackvine Bandits fell to his knees.

From the shadows stepped a dwarf with dark ashen skin. Smoke then walked over to Kren and knelt to speak with him face to face. "Two axes stuck in ye. Ye fucking betrayer. You didn’t choose me, Kren. Ye should’ve, though. Now ye’ll spend yer final seconds watching me take yer place."

Smoke place a hand on each of his axes that protruded from Kren Blackvine. He tugged them free, which created a fresh shower of dwarf blood to fill the air. For good measure, Smoke buried one of them into Kren’s face, across both eyes.

"Changed me mind, then. I don’t want ye ta see anything else, ye fucking bastard," Smoke said as pulled the axe back and began wiping the blades off.

The three sea brothers stared in shock at their dead leader on the ground. Surprisingly, though, they did not attempt to attack Smoke. He nodded at them, and they nodded respectfully right back.

"Just arrived, then?" Nyall asked. "I can’t believe we beat ye here, with ye havin’ a headstart, and all."

Ningh laughed loudly and replied for Smoke, "Nay, he’s been here, tucked into those shadows for an hour or more. Fast runner, that one."

"Aye," Smoke added. "I’ve always been the fastest on the crew, in both running and killing. Kren shoulda remembered that. It’s why he’s dead. I don’t talk when there’s killing ta do."

"Okay, then," Ningh said with a clap. "Let’s discuss this other business. Do ye know the whore at the Grinding Wheel? I’ve been watchin’ her close for awhile. She is something special, but there is an old adventurer planning on robbing her tonight. I heard him say some such garbage while in his cups last night. I have two humans already there watching him. They can’t fight for shite, but I gave them some spellbombs. I need some killers ta take him out, real quiet like. That’s it. Don’t harm the girl. I need her."

"And after this dirty work of yers, we can go free, then?" Smoke asked.

"Of course, if ye live to tell the tale, that is," the wizard replied with twinkling grin. "These kinds of things have a way of getting out of hand. People get hurt. Dwarves get greedy. I can’t tell ye what ta do, other than don’t try ta hurt the girl."

The bandits nodded their heads and turned on their heels, headed for the Grinding Wheel Tavern. As they strode off, Ningh looked down at the mess the gray one had left on his grass. Kren’s body was a disgusting eyesore in Ningh’s finely kept garden.

"Axe ta the face," he whispered to himself as he burned the body to ash with his short staff. "Nasty way to go, that."

Next Chapter: Who Shall Bake the Bread