“Fools,” Cropper spat. He tapped the burning cloves out of his pipe and crushed them with the heel of his boot. He left the group, sulking. Thealos stared at the tiny wisps coming from the scorch marks where he had stood. It was another act of defilement, something deliberate to tarnish the land. It made the ball of rage in his heart grow.
Beck came over and dropped down next to him, showing him the mottled sash. His fingers were dirty and strong. “You said you could read this, Shaden.”
“Untie me first,” Thealos said.
“What?” Tannon chortled.
“What can I do, Tannon?” Thealos snapped, his temper flaring. “Escape? You’ve taken my bow and quiver. You have my knife and my provisions and all the Aralonian pieces I own. I am a good woodsman, but not without supplies. If I ran away, I’d be in worse shape than I’m in now.” He shrugged, his wrists cramped and numb from the tether. “To be honest, I doubt I could walk on my own right now without falling down. Please – untie me.”
Tannon nodded to Beck. The soldier grunted and slipped a dagger from the cuff of his boot. Thealos felt the ropes stretch and snap as the blade sliced through the bonds. Blood rushed into his hands, stinging his fingertips with pricks of life. He chafed his wrists, trying to keep from wincing at the bloody sores. Gingerly, he touched the back of his head where the mace had struck him and felt the matted blood. Beck untied the bonds around his ankles.
“How’s that, boy?” Beck asked.
Thealos nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. May I see it?” He gestured for the sash. Taking the cloth, he brushed his hand along the length, finding where the stitching held the drape together. He examined the workmanship closely. It had obviously been steeped in mud or earth, but the fabric was of the highest quality, a rugged blend of wool and linen that kept well even outdoors. It was treated to protect it from the elements. Flipping it over, he examined the edging again.
“What does it say?” Beck asked excitedly.
“I haven’t started reading it yet,” Thealos replied. “My father is in the cloth business. It’s definitely Silvan-made. See how the stitching is so tight and close?” He ran his forefinger over the tight weave. “No loose threads. Not one. A few good washings and you could sell this for a high price.” Beck’s eyes gleamed. “Now for the markings. Let me see.” He started to read it in his mind, struggling with the cryptic notes of the ancient Shae language. He learned the Wolfsman’s name and rank. “His name was Jade Shayler, and he bore the rank of a Lor. Impressive.”
“What does his name mean?” Tomn asked, edging closer. He looked fascinated. “Don’t Shaden names mean something?”
“You know a little about us, don’t you?” Thealos said approvingly to the simple man.
Tomn grinned, embarrassed. “A little. But not much. So what does it mean?”
“Literally, Jade Shayler means ‘green eyes.’ There are some nuances too, but I doubt any of you would understand them.” He gave Tannon a wry look. “The writing here and here describes his life, who trained him, what action he has seen.” He rolled the fabric down, showing them the Silvan script. “But as you can see on this half, the fabric is empty down to there. He was young, for a Shae. But I think I know how he died.”
“And how could you know that?” Tannon asked.
“You’re full of trope,” Hoth said.
Thealos shook his head. “I’m only guessing. But the last thing written here is an encounter with a Sinew dragon. One that apparently menaced the Shae side of the river. Jade Shayler went after it.” He looked from face to face. “I didn’t think your band could have killed a Crimson Wolfsman. But a Sinew dragon could.”
“A Sinew dragon,” Tannon said sternly, folding his arms.
“A Sinew dragon,” Beck agreed, his eyes lighting with mischief.
“You obviously know about them,” Thealos continued.
“You’d find nary a man in Dos-Aralon who would,” Hoth said with a grin. “But those in the army, especially the scouts…we know what’s out in the valley. Sinew dragons lurk in a clutch in the swamps and woods, things you don’t find anywhere near the city.”
“Then you know that Sinew dragons like shiny things,” Thealos said conspiratorially. “Greedy beasts, they kill to steal. Do you know why they’re called…?”
“Because they’re land dragons,” another soldier butted in. Thealos didn’t remember his name, though he recognized his voice from the night before. “They don’t fly.”
“They jump,” Hoth added.
“I’m impressed with your band, Tannon,” Thealos said with a charming grin. “You know a lot about this valley.”
“More than you probably do, boy,” the leader replied smugly. “What was your name again? Thallis?”
“Thealos,” he replied. “Thealos Quickfellow.”
He didn’t dare ask if they were part of the Bandit Rebellion. Not yet.
*
Thealos squirmed uncomfortably and tried to pull the blanket over his legs, but his fingers were numb from the ropes and it took him a minute. The campfire crackled nearby and Cropper’s shadow fell across him as he walked around it, near Thealos.