The maze

Chapter One

Dovyel peered through the leaves down at the forest road. He was a fit young man with brilliant red hair framing his sharp blue eyes. He was dressed in worn clothes and carried a small sack slung over his shoulder. He had been waiting there all day for a catch and now after all the time, his patience had paid off. Coming from the flat lands was the royal convoy that carried the collected taxes. A fine bounty for a single robber to find.

The loot was certainly great. Unfortunately with that, there were also many trained soldiers guarding it against people just like him. For someone working alone, it would be a death trap to try and steal any of the tax money. Or worse, he would be captured. After being thrown in prison for a long time, he would undoubtedly be eventually hung.

He shuddered at the thought of being hanged and gently rubbed at his neck. A hard lump had formed in his throat. He tried to swallow it away and looked out again at the passing convoy.

By his reckoning they would have to stop for the night before they came to any village or town. Which meant they would have to make camp. A risky thing for them, for if they were all asleep, someone like him could just sneak in and take as much gold as he could carry. Chances are they wouldn't even realize they were short until someone did a count. Someone may even lose his head, but it wouldn't be him.

Dovyel sank back under the cover of the leaves. He would wait a while before trailing after them. He did not need to see the convoy to know where it was going. He could afford to let it out of his sight. There was only the one road through here and it did not branch off until you were out of the woods. They would not make it that far though, he knew that for sure. He had spent many months out here, traveling from one end of the forest to the other. He knew how long it took to get out from any point along the path. The shortest way out, from their current place, was to the east. The only thing out there, were the mountains, which could be seen tower above the trees.

He settle back and rummaged through a sack for a bite to eat. To his disappointment, he was down to his last scrap of civilized food. If his heist wasn't going to work out, he would have to scavenge through the forest in search of food. Unless some poor lone traveler came through in the next day or two. travelers always had more than enough provisions to spare.

At the thought of the goodies he had snagged from unaware passerby, he licked his lips. The thought of food made his mouth water and he nibbled away at the last of his bread. He mused about how the knights would react when they woke in the morning to find that they had been robbed. They wouldn't know who had done it. They may speculate it was a ghost. Many strange stories have circulated through the parts about what could live in the forest here. Dovyel had never seen anything to suggest the stories had any amount of truth to it, but he reckoned the soldiers would rather claim to have been robbed by a ghost than admit they let a single thief slip past them. He smiled to himself at the thought of the great heist he intended to pull. It would be grands.

Dovyel sighed. He sort of wanted them to know who had robbed them. Sure he was no Nemira, feared pirate of the sea, but he felt like he was a rather infamous criminal himself. He certainly had a reputation along this road. However, did his name carry on to the ears of those who lived farther. Did his name strike fear into those who traveled through the forest or was it just that of a warning? Like telling travels to beware of him like you would a ghost. He didn't leave the cover of the trees often and as such he didn't hear much about his reputation. Nor did he make a habit of spreading his name to those he robbed. Ambiguity was always a safer option. He had heard from the odd traveler he held up that they figured he was the bandit they had heard of, but from the little information he picked up from the towns on either end of the forest, his name seemed more like a phantom than an actual robber. Not that that was particularly a bad thing. It lent a level of fear to his nameless reputation. Still, it would be nice to go down in history as a great bandit. The one that got away every time. The one who after his long carrier taking the wealth of others was never caught and lived in comfortable retirement somewhere.

He was known by those who lived on either end of the woods, but he really didn't feel like that many believed his actual existence.

"It's so hard to build up a good reputation these days," he muttered to himself. He wondered how the pirate Nemira managed to grow to such an infamous criminal. He had been at it longer than he knew of her, yet he was still just a petty road robber. Not to say that it was anything to scoff at. It was safer than sailing the seas and you didn't have to split the loot with a crew. No, in his opinion, working alone was the safest option. No one to slow you down, or rat you out for a decent reward.

Maybe that's it, he thought. Maybe you only get a reputation like that when you have a band or crew of scallywags with you.

Dovyel found it quite possible. He had never worked with anyone. He didn't trust them to not stab him in the back and he felt that no one would take him seriously enough to be the boss. He simple didn't look or sound intimidating. A fact that often gave him strife when holding up lone travelers. They often doubted him at first, thinking he was acting all tough.

He snorted to himself.

The whole crime thing was more of a way of life, but after doing it for many years without being caught, he became concerned with his reputation. He thought of traveling about, but figured the best chance for recognition was to stay in a localized area. He didn't know why it mattered, in truth it would be better not to be known. People are less likely to be prepared for you. Yet hearing about other criminals success must have bothered him as he was still doing the same thing he was years ago and he was still scraping to get by. The forest provided protection and safety from those who would wish to be rid of him. He could hide from anyone in there. Yet, it was not a main road. It kept travelers in small parties, but it also kept them scarce. There would be days when no one came by. This was likely the reason the royal tax collectors chose this path. Less chance of being robbed.

He took out a water skin and took a swig from it. After placing it back at his side he closed his eyes. The convoy would not be going anywhere, he could take a short a rest. He had to pass the time somehow.