And to his shock, not only did it appear the highwaymen had rather a lovely bohemian outdoor abode tucked in a curvature of black stone amongst the forest. It included many thick rugs upon the ground, rich hides, tasseled, rolled pillows, sturdy awnings hung to hold back the elements, some low tables, logs that had been dragged in to serve as back rests or shields from the wind, and lanterns and candles scattered about to give it a cozy feeling.

They also had wenches who looked like a cross between a Zee and a doxy. These women wore low-cut, striped blouses under stiff Airenzian corsets that stretched along their midriffs and came to a point in the middle, beneath their breasts. With these they had skirts with deep ruffles at the edges, a few of them that included lace. The skirts fell to their heels at the back but were cut so high at the front, they just covered the pubis. Thus, legs were exposed with lace-topped stockings encasing upper thighs and boots that rode up to just under their knees.

But last…

There were ten of them.

Five women.

And all five men.

The men had all escaped.

But…

How?

“It wasn’t right,” one man said.

“It’s done,” another one replied wearily. “Let us cease talking about it.”

“I swear to the gods, Nick, that man with the woman…at one point he had grown fangs,” the first man said.

“Think not on it, for it is done,” Nick replied.

“The one I chased disappeared into thin air,” another said.

“A sorcerer?” one of the women asked.

“Had to be,” the man who chased him answered.

“If he was a sorcerer, Leith, he would not run. He’d cast,” another man said.

“He did cast, Angus, to disappear,” Leith replied.

“And be glad of it,” Nick advised. “For this night we rode up on evil, so intent on coin, we didn’t feel it until it was almost too late, and now, we are all here, still breathing.”

Yes, they were.

All there.

Still breathing.

But…

How?

“I’ll take that bottle of gin, love,” the first man who spoke said.

“Here you go, my Rory,” a woman whispered, proffering a bottle.

He took it then pulled her down to her hip beside where he lounged on a thick rug against a rolled pillow up against a log.

“Kaden?” Nick called, apparently to the last man, who was at the edge of their encampment, staring into the night.

“We should report this,” he said.

There was silence.

Eventually, Nick, who Jellan sensed was the leader, muttered, “Aye.”

“Report what?” another of the women asked.

“I’m not sure we should report anything,” Leith said.