Eighth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus
Fort Three, South Rank forts, Western Plain, Krike border
It was time to leave and, now that it was here, Rillirin didn’t want to go. She had trained every day with the civilian militia and the Rankers; she was getting better. She could fight. She wanted to fight.
The wriggling of the life inside reminded her that wasn’t the best option. Nearly five months gone and the swelling of her belly was obvious to all now. She was tired; she was grumpy; she was hungry. She knew leaving was the best option but she hated it. Every time she started to find out who she was, who she could be out from under the Mireces collar, her life was turned upside down and she had to start again.
‘Not you,’ she whispered fiercely on a surge of guilt. ‘I don’t hate you, little warrior. I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I never really have.’
‘Pregnancy can give you the strangest thoughts,’ said Martha, the woman who had the next cot over. Her youngest was still on the breast and shared with her, while the older two curled up in the next one. ‘Me, when my eldest was born, I spent weeks, moons even, convinced I’d drop him or let him fall. Slept in the kitchen because I wouldn’t risk the stairs up to the bedchamber with him in my arms. Ben used to have to carry him for me whenever we left the house. I was a wreck.’
She indicated the little face attached to her nipple. ‘This one? Tied him to my back and climbed ladders to escape the Mireces and the flames. You do what you have to in that situation. Not that you’ll have to do any of that,’ she added. ‘I’m sure this place they’re taking us to will be safe.’
Martha was one of the few who hadn’t fallen to pieces when Mace announced his intention to send every civilian except the militia away from the forts. For days there’d been chaos, some city-folk flatly refusing to leave, others rushing to join the militia in the hopes that would keep them safe.
Rillirin had felt a surge of the same fear – by her reckoning she hadn’t stayed in any one place more than a few months since her escape from Eagle Height. The Wolf Lands – their destination – held more bad memories than good, but then so did everywhere. A single night of lovemaking in the West Rank forts wasn’t much to stand against the horrors, but it was all she had and she clung to it. They’d make more, once the war was over and Dom was himself again and the babe was here. A lifetime more.
The bell rang the hour and Martha and Rillirin looked at each other: time to go. Socks, waterskins, any possessions or wealth they’d managed to bring with them were wrapped up in blankets and slung over their backs. Martha’s babe was strapped to her chest inside her shirt so she had a hand free for each of the other children and Rillirin watched her walk out of the barracks as though they were going on a picnic. Rillirin herself was afraid and her child was yet to be born – what Martha must have be thinking of her chances of outrunning an enemy in the wide expanse of the Western Plain, she didn’t even want to contemplate.
‘We’re not going to have to do that,’ she reassured herself. ‘Four hundred Rankers and a score of Wolves are going with us. We’ll be fine.’ Still, she tightened her grip on her spear as she followed Martha out into the morning. Gilda was waiting for her and Rillirin felt a rush of reassurance at her presence.
The drill yard was packed to capacity with civilians, some in sullen silence, others weeping, a few still shouting even now. Colonel Osric stood on an anvil outside the smithy so they could all see him. ‘Citizens of Rilpor,’ he shouted, signalling for quiet. ‘I know you’re afraid. I know you hoped that this would be your refuge until the war was over. It is not, and you know the reasons for that. You’re scared, and you’re right to be—’ More muttering. She wondered what Osric’s rallying speech before a battle would be like. ‘—but the Wolf Lands are the safest place you can be. Safer than here, which is why you’re leaving. You have supplies for the journey, and you have soldiers to guard you and Wolves to guide you. Dancer’s grace.’
He jumped down from the anvil and Rillirin realised that was it, that was all they were getting. Be scared. Walk. Pray.
‘Well, he won’t be earning any commendations for public speaking,’ Gilda muttered, then patted Martha and Rillirin both on the shoulders. ‘Not to fret. They killed the war bands out in the Western Plain and the Commander has more patrols scouting. The plain is safe. But if they do come, you run and you don’t look back, all right?’
Rillirin’s hands went to her belly as Gilda’s words loosened her bladder. ‘Run,’ she said numbly. ‘Of course.’ She adjusted the cord holding her blanket and few possessions. We will run, won’t we, little warrior? Run as far as we need to and we’ll hide, and then we’ll keep going, miles every day, safer and safer the further west we get, and never look behind us.
Martha huffed a laugh. ‘You want to walk with us?’ she asked them both. ‘I’d feel better with a Wolf and a priestess by my side.’
‘I will,’ Gilda said, ‘but the lass should make her own decision.’
Rillirin paused, knowing the priestess was trying to give her a way out – she knew the thoughts whirling through Rillirin’s head. ‘We’ll go together,’ she said at last. ‘It’s always a good idea to stick with Gilda.’
Martha smiled with relief Rillirin didn’t share. She told herself the Mireces wouldn’t kill women and children; they were too valuable. They’d be fine; they didn’t have a link to the Raiders as Rillirin did. She could leave them if she had to. It’d be fine.
Martha pressed a small hand into Rillirin’s. ‘Ben Junior, you mind your manners and listen to Auntie Rillirin, all right? We’ve got a long way to walk and you’ll be tired, but I need you to be a brave boy and do as you’re told. We’re going on another adventure.’
Ben watched his mother with grave solemnity. ‘I don’t like adventures,’ he said. ‘Are we going to find my da?’
Grief flashed across Martha’s face and her lip trembled, but she had no words.
Gilda knelt stiffly by his side. ‘We’re going to the forests and the mountains where I come from,’ she said. ‘Mountains so tall that they have snow on all year round. So tall that if the sun isn’t careful, he’ll pop like an egg yolk on the point of Mount Gil and then we’d be in trouble, wouldn’t we? This adventure takes us away from the cities and into the wilds. But no, your da won’t be there, I’m afraid. But we will.’
‘Am I the only Ben now, then?’ the little boy asked.
‘That’s right,’ Gilda said. ‘You’ve got your da’s job now to look after your ma and your little brothers.’
Ben scuffed his boot on the flagstones and heaved a sigh. ‘All right, then,’ he said.
Gilda stood back up and Rillirin watched her, swallowing against the lump in her throat. The old priestess nodded once and took Ben’s other hand in hers.
All right, little warrior. You and me and Gilda, and Martha and her three as well. But no more. We’ll stick together and run from the danger and make it to the Wolf Lands. We take them, but no others. We can’t.
And with that, the fort’s gates creaked open and they began the march.
They were two miles out, moving in a ragged mass thirty ranks wide and more than a hundred long, with four hundred Rankers ahead and to the sides. Twenty provisions wagons pulled by horses the Rank could ill afford to lose rolled in the middle.
Rillirin’s heart lurched when a horse cantered up alongside, and then lurched again when she saw who rode it: Dalli. The Wolf chief reined in and dismounted; then she beckoned to her. Rillirin passed Ben back to his mother. ‘I’ll catch you up soon,’ she promised and dodged her way through the straggling lines.
‘Here,’ Dalli said and held out a leather thong with an amulet dangling from it.
‘What is it?’ Rillirin asked, not moving to take it.
Dalli ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘Years ago – you probably know this – years ago Dom and I were lovers. He gave me this. I didn’t keep it because I still love him,’ she added in a rush. ‘It just became a sort of good-luck charm. I thought you could have it. The charm, the luck, whatever. Gilda said you don’t have anything of Dom’s and that … didn’t feel right to me.’
Rillirin still hesitated. ‘I have his child.’
‘If you don’t want it, fine.’ Dalli reached for the saddle.
‘Wait. You said he’s a traitor and a murderer. You said our babe will be a monster.’
Dalli winced, thrust the necklace at her again and this time Rillirin took it.
‘We both know I’m a pig-headed fool at times,’ Dalli said. ‘I … I thought you were dead, back when you went overboard and it grieved me. Gilda, well, let’s just say the priestess and I had words and she made me realise a few things.’ She scraped fingers through her spiky hair, looking past Rillirin to where the priestess waited, stolid and silent and watchful. ‘Whatever Dom is or isn’t, you’re my friend. I mean, you were, and I hope you will be again. If we both live, that is.’
Rillirin dragged her into a hug, cutting off her words. She smelt of sweat and horse and she was small and hard, like diamond. ‘I love you,’ she whispered fiercely and Dalli’s arms tightened around her.
‘I love you, too. Look after my home, war-kin.’ Rillirin pulled back to stare at her and Dalli winked. ‘We’ll make a Wolf of you yet. Now go, and Dancer go with you. I’ll see you when this is all over.’
Rillirin forced herself to let go. ‘Dancer’s grace. Kill them all for me.’
Dalli grinned a wolf’s grin. ‘You know it.’