Chapter 154

The caravan consisted of twelve wagons. The one in the lead was completely enclosed, more like a huge, overgrown carriage than a wagon, with two men sitting on the bench on the front. The next two were the ones Luke pictured whenever anyone said words like ‘pioneer’ or ‘prairie,’ the ones with canvas stretched around ribs to make a kind of roof, with the oval-shaped opening on the back end. Supply wagons.

The remaining eight were something completely different. They were more like giant wooden crates on wheels, sealed up except for a six-inch-wide slat going across the side near the bottoms. Luke could see feet and ankles, dirty and crusted with filth, through those slats. Stains running down the wood and across the wheels told him exactly how often the human cargo was let out. Considering there were no doors on any of sort on a single one of those wagons, it wasn’t hard to picture excrement being pushed out of those slats. Or food being passed in.

The slaves had been literally boxed up like freight, transported in conditions that would make anyone sick as a deliberate tactic to work against any stats they might have. Luke counted over a hundred feet in those eight prison wagons, and considering how wide each one was, he doubled his estimate. Even then, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was still too low. There wouldn’t be enough room for anyone to do more than sit down and huddle upright when they tried to sleep.

It was torture. Luke knew because his skill told him so. [Torturer]was listing out all the benefits to putting a bunch of people in a situation like that, everything from sleep deprivation to malnourishment to various foodborne illnesses that most likely resulted in dehydration and weakness. The fact that the skill thought of those as ‘benefits’ left a bad taste in Luke’s mouth, but it did mean he knew exactly what kinds of problems he was looking at when he broke those wheeled crates open and let everyone out.

Getting to that point was a different issue. Each slave wagon had four guards perched on top, all armed with crossbows. Each wagon had a driver, and five more guards on horseback rode near the front wagon, the one that looked like an oversized carriage. Each of those guards had bows on their back and full quivers on their waist.

“Fifty people,” Luke said. “Most of them are between levels 15 and 25, but those guys riding the horses are all over level 30. That one on the front wagon next to the driver is level 42.”

“I bet the caravan master is inside that front wagon. He could be high level too,” Zea added, pointing to the carriage-style wagon.

“I hate to say it, but we might be in over our heads with this one,” Luke said. The easiest thing for them to do would be to just get off the road and let the caravan pass them by. Legally speaking, they would be committing banditry if they attacked the slavers, and their appearances were so distinctive that unless they killed literally everyone who wasn’t a slave, it was practically guaranteed to cause problems.

Hell, even the slaves might talk about who rescued them and inadvertently give the authorities descriptions. Or they might get recaptured and the information forced out of them. Pulling the hood up on his cloak wasn’t going to make it less obvious that Luke was three to six inches taller than just about everyone he’d met since the ship docked.

The smart thing to do was to walk away. As shitty as the situation was, it had nothing to do with them, and Luke wasn’t thrilled with the idea of close to forty people shooting at him all at once anyway. Most of the guards would do minimal damage at best, probably less than that if this enchanted chain worked as advertised. Between his very real armor and that magic barrier, he might just be able to rush through a cloud of crossbow bolts while they bounced off him.

Then again, he might not. It was just as easy to picture himself making it ten feet before he fell over, writhing in pain while he bled out from a few dozen holes as it was to picture himself leaping on top of the slave wagons and laying people out left and right.

There were also the ethical considerations. Slavery was legal. The guards were just doing their jobs. It didn’t even mean they supported slavery, though likely they hadn’t given it much thought. He was viewing that from his own position as a person raised in a society where slavery was very much considered a bad thing, and anyone who actively supported it was a bad person by association.

The whole thing made his head hurt. He’d liked it better when he didn’t think so much about stuff. Luke from six months ago would have spared a moment to consider his approach, then charged in. On the other hand, that Luke would have undoubtedly died if he’d tried it.

As much as Luke wanted to bust open those boxes full of suffering, he didn’t think it was possible, and certainly not without causing himself a lot of problems down the road even if they were successful. He was under no illusions that, assuming a successful assault, the guards would all stand around waiting for him to kill them instead of running for their lives.

There were good reasons to attack. There were good reasons to stay out of it. Luke wanted to help the slaves, but he didn’t think he could. He glanced over at Zea and opened his mouth to say that they should get away from the road until the caravan was past them, then he noticed her rubbing at the slave mark tattooed behind her ear. He wondered if she’d ever ridden in a prison wagon like that.

“Looks like the ‘bandits’ were telling the truth,” he said instead.

“Looks like,” she agreed.

“You think they know what they’re getting into? Three’s not a lot to take on this many guards.”

“Probably more of them back in the trees.”

Luke nodded. “Possibly. I wonder if they know how big the caravan is. We could go back and tell them. Or… Go back and help.”

“How fast could you get back there if you went ahead?” Zea asked.

“Five miles or so, if I went as fast as I could? A few minutes. But where are you going to go?”

“I’ll follow behind, be maybe ten minutes later catching up. I’ll still beat that caravan, and those guys are probably going to need every advantage they can get to fight a caravan this big.”

Luke glanced back at the caravan, still a ways down the road and moving slowly. “Are you sure you want to get involved?” he asked.

“I know it’s going to make things harder for us,” she said. “And not just missing a few hours or a day. Even if things go well, this is probably going to come back around to bite us in the ass. But… Look at them. I can see those feet in there. I know you can too. Who has ever deserved something like that?”

“I agree with you,” Luke said. “It’s not right. I hope every one of those slaves is freed, but at the same time, that’s an awful tough nut to crack. Even if we manage it, do you think those guys have food and shelter for… what? A hundred people? Hundred fifty?”

“Better than the alternative,” Zea said.

Luke nodded. “Suppose so. Alright, follow as fast as you can.”

And he took off running back north.

* * *

The tree was more or less back in place, though it was half diagonal across the road instead of flush like it had been before Luke moved it. The guy watching the road was still there, and when he caught sight of Luke, he flinched so hard he almost fell out of the tree. Luke tossed a quick [Analyze]on him again, just because he couldn’t quite remember the guy’s name. The system was happy to tell him it was Wilby.

By the time Luke got over to him, Wilby had caught his balance and managed to climb down to the ground. “You okay there, man?”

“Yeah… Fine. Fuck, you’re fast.” Wilby shook his head. “Did you forget something?”

“No, just backtracked to tell you guys that your caravan is on its way in. It’s five miles or so south of here. So, like, you know, you guys should get all your bandits together and get ready to hit it. There are about forty guards that I counted, plus I wouldn’t put it past the wagon drivers to pull out a crossbow and take a shot at you.”

“Forty?” Wilby repeated, his face going pale. “Fuck me. Shit. That’s way too many.”

“Thought it might be. We’ve got an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before they’re here. You want to gather up your people and I’ll lay out what the caravan looks like for you?”

Wilby let out a shrill whistle, and a moment later, a second one answered it. About two minutes after that, the pair from earlier appeared. Ruca raised an eyebrow at me, but didn’t say anything.

“This guy says he spotted the caravan. Forty guards,” Wilby said in Consortium Standard, probably for Luke’s sake.

Val let out a string of curses, shifting through at least three different languages and lasting long enough that Ruca pushed past her and said, “Are you sure?”

“Counted them myself,” Luke said. “Hope you’ve got at least twenty guys over level 25 and ready to throw down with the regular guards, because there were five guys riding horses all over level 30, and one guy at level 42.”

The volume of swearing coming from Val started rising. Ruca glanced at her, said one word in the language Luke didn’t know, and she cut off mid-tirade. He turned back to Luke and said, “It’s just us.”

“What do you mean, ‘just us?’” Luke asked. “Please tell me there are more than just the three of you.”

Ruca grimaced, and Wilby stared at the ground. Val gave him a glare. None of them spoke.

“Fuck,” Luke said. “How the hell did you think three people were going to be enough to stop a caravan. I mean, shit, this guy’s only level 18!”

“We didn’t think it would be this well defended,” Ruca admitted.

“Well I suggest you reconsider your plans. Three of you are not enough to take out this group.”

“Not an option,” Val said immediately.

“They have her family,” Ruca added, seeing Luke’s surprised look.

“Shiiiiiiiitt,” Luke said. He’d been counting on them having the manpower to even the odds. If Luke fought the high level guy one on one, he thought he could win. If that guy had thirty people backing him up, it wasn’t long odds, it was suicide. There was no winning this with a group this small, even if most of them were high level.

“Someone’s coming,” Wilby said.

“She’s with me,” Luke told him, not even bothering to glance down the road. He could see Zea running along as fast as her legs could carry her. He was actually a bit surprised she’d caught up that fast. Within a minute or so, she came to a stop next to the four of them.

“You told them already?” she asked in Thalian.

“I did.”

“And their band is getting into position?”

Luke shook his head. “It’s just these three.”

Zea’s head whipped around to look at the three not-bandits. “Are you fucking stupid?” she asked them.

“Hey!” Val took a step forward, only to have Ruca put a hand on her shoulder.

“Her family is in one of those wagons,” Luke said.

“Oh.” Zea looked around. “Shit.”

“That’s what I said. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything in your bag of wonders to help.”

“Against that many people?” she asked, incredulous.

“If we can blow up the lead wagon with all the higher level guards around it, we might be able to handle the rest,” Luke said.

“Might work,” Zea agreed with a sigh. “Still risky. Let me see what I have.”