Chapter 30

I took a step back, trying to calm my rapid breathing and pounding heart.

“You’ve made some mistake, sir,” I said. “I’m a common laborer, making a delivery.”

“A little late for that,” said one of the other men. “Looks more to me like you’re trying to run for it before things blow up in Cape Triumph. Not sure I blame you.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” said the first man. He dismounted, and a couple of others followed suit. “Just need to ship you back and collect our payday. Come with us, and make it easy on everyone.”

I tightened my hold on the knife and took another step back. I was almost off the road and wondered how far I’d get if I took off into the brushy woods. Probably not very. The terrain looked rough, and I’d likely fall over some log before getting ten feet away.

“She ain’t going to make it easy.” The first man reached for me, and I swung out with the knife, cutting through his shirt and slashing shallowly across his chest.

“Bitch!” he cried. “Get her!”

The other men surged forward, and I knew I couldn’t beat those odds. As with Warren’s attack, I refused to make it simple for them. If they expected a woman to be easy prey, they’d soon learn otherwise. I dropped to the ground as they reached me, causing them to run into one another. I wiggled away as best I could, stabbing one man in the calf. I had the sense to yank the knife out and scurry away as he fell yelping to the ground. I scrambled to my feet and ran—but was quickly stopped. A hand grabbed my hair and jerked me backward. I fell down, slamming the side of my head against the dirt road.

“Don’t injure her!” yelled their leader. “We need her intact.”

“She’s got two months at sea to heal,” countered the man nearest me. He tried to grab me, but a wild swing of the blade kept him at bay. His companions were moving in, and one finally managed to knock the knife out of my hand. Surrounded, I finally slowed down and accepted defeat—for now. They had to get me back to Cape Triumph and onto a ship. Plenty of time to escape.

Sensing their victory, the men came to a standstill and awaited their next order. That moment of silence was suddenly filled with the pounding of more hooves. Everyone turned to stare down the road—everyone except me. I used their distraction to slip through two men and grab my knife.

But when the riders came into view, even I was taken aback. A man and a woman slowed before us. They both rode white horses and wore black masks across their eyes. The man nearest me gasped.

“Pirates!”

“Tom Shortsleeves!”

“And Lady Aviel,” said another. He spoke the name like that of a demon, ironic since she bore the name of one of the six glorious angels.

Aiana’s words came back to me: All stories have a seed of truth.

Legends come to life. I hadn’t really believed the stories. So many rumors flew around Cape Triumph, and this had seemed particularly outlandish. But if these intimidating figures weren’t really two of Cape Triumph’s most notorious pirates, their impressions were so good that it didn’t matter. They matched the descriptions I’d heard numerous times at parties and, of course, from Mira, their biggest fan. Tom’s sleeves were, in fact, short, and I could just make out the peacock feather in his hat. A mane of golden hair fell down Aviel’s back, over a cape stitched with stylized stars. The two of them drew swords at the same time, their movements practiced and efficient.

“You have something we want,” said Tom or whoever he really was. “Leave Lady Witmore with us, and go.”

Two of the men immediately began retreating, their faces full of fear. The gang’s leader faced the riders down. “She and her reward belong to us. Get out of here before we— Ahh!”

Tom charged forward, slamming the pommel of his sword into the leader’s head. Aviel moved just as quickly and went after another of the men. They might be outnumbered, but the horses gave them an advantage since all of the other men had dismounted. The fear the twosome inspired was equally effective. Some of the raiders were trying to get away, and the one I’d injured in the leg was having trouble moving at all.

I took it all in as I hesitated on what to do. With the gang in disarray, I could easily join in with my knife and be effective. But as I watched Tom and Aviel swing their swords fiercely, I decided I didn’t want to take my chances with this unknown element. It was time to run.

I climbed back on Beth. With all the commotion, she was much more willing to carry me. We set off at a medium trot—not as fast as I’d like, but enough to get me away. My plan was to put some distance between me and the fray, then get off and take my chances with the woods. It would mean abandoning Beth and the painting, but this was the time for hard choices.

I didn’t get nearly as far as I’d hoped. In fact, I’d barely gotten started when Tom and Aviel overtook me and blocked the road ahead. I brought Beth to a halt and stared at these new threats. I tried not to get caught up in the mystique of their fearsome reputations, but it was hard not to.

“You don’t need to worry about those men anymore,” said Tom, almost cheerfully.

“Dead?” I asked.

“Maybe,” said Aviel. “Or they ran.” She sounded like she had a Belsian accent. Tom’s was solidly colonial.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t going with them, and I’m not going with you.” The boldness came automatically, even though there’d be little I could do against them. I’d revert to my plan to find a future escape.

“We don’t want to take you away,” Tom replied. “Wherever you’re going, we’ll help you get there safely. We’re your escorts for the night.”

I couldn’t see their expressions in the darkness, but he sounded in earnest. “Why? What do you want?”

“Nothing that you need to worry about. Our interests are our own. All you need to know is that you’re safe with us.”

I didn’t trust them. How could I? None of this made any sense, but then, according to all the stories, it was hard to guess the motives of these two.

When I didn’t speak, Tom added, “Your horse is lame?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “But she threw a shoe.”

“Then we’ll have to take you on ours.”

I saw him glance over at Aviel. Something passed between them—something a bit strained—and a moment later, she dismounted. “Mine won’t have trouble carrying two,” he said. “You can ride hers.”

Eyeing Tom’s large destrier, I suspected the beast could carry ten. The smaller mare had seemed lively and energized back by the lantern, and I felt encouraged by the idea of having my own horse. It increased my getaway odds. “Okay,” I said, walking over to her. “We’re going to Crawford.”

Aviel moved to the destrier, hesitating only a moment before effortlessly climbing on with Tom. I tethered Beth to a tree. “Sorry, girl.” I patted her neck, feeling guilty about abandoning this gift. “Hopefully we can get you back to Gideon. Or maybe some new owner will get you a shoe.”

I bound the painting to my new mount, and then we were off at a dizzying pace. The speed was exhilarating after Beth’s slow gait, and I allowed myself to hope that this might work after all. But I hadn’t even made it halfway to Crawford, and time was still my enemy.

When we finally reached the edge of Crawford, Tom and Aviel slowed. “You have the address?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s probably best we wait here. Seeing us in the middle of the night might be . . . alarming to some people.”

I could believe that. Crawford was bigger than the last village, and it took some doing to find the right place. When I did, I could understand how this buyer could afford my painting. His house was by far the largest in town, a beautiful manor on the opposite side of the center green. Lanterns hung outside, but the windows were dark. Taking a deep breath, I retrieved the painting and knocked on the door.

It took two more knocks before someone answered, a sleepy servant who eyed me askance. “I need to see Mister Davenport.”

“Madam,” said the servant, his tone suggesting that title was generous, “it’s the middle of the night.”

“It couldn’t be helped.” I held up the wrapped painting. “I have something he’s very interested in buying. A painting. I think he’d be upset if he learned you turned me away, and I sold it to someone else.”

The servant’s change of expression told me he was familiar with the painting negotiations. He brought me into the foyer and warned me not to touch anything while he was gone. Minutes later, a gray-haired gentleman entered in a house robe. His eyes widened at the sight of me. “You’re . . . you’re delivering the Thodoros?”

“If you still want it,” I said. “There’s a Myrikosi lady in Cape Triumph who’s very interested.” I unwrapped it, and he hurried forward, leaning close to the canvas.

“Magnificent. I saw it three weeks ago and couldn’t get it out of my mind. I saw one of his other works in this series back on the continent. I was struck back then too.” He gently touched the canvas. “See how the sun illuminates her? Thodoros knows his lighting.”

A pang of guilt hit me. This man was a legitimate aficionado, and I was deceiving him. But was it so wrong if it could give him joy and save a life?

We completed the transaction, and I left his house with a heavy bag of gold. It occurred to me as I walked back to the road that Tom and Aviel might somehow know what I was doing and plan on taking my money. They materialized out of the shadows before I could consider any alternative courses of action.

“All done?” Tom asked, making no threatening moves. “Then let’s get you back. Dawn is coming.” Aviel remained quiet. In the light of the lanterns hanging in town, her hair glittered gold.

Our journey back was frenzied as we tried to beat the sunrise. We were going too fast for me to see Beth, but I did notice the point where we’d had the altercation. The lantern still burned on the road, and two men lay prone nearby. I wasn’t sure if they were dead or unconscious, and no one stopped to find out.

Our speed was good—but not that good. The sun was touching the eastern horizon when we reached the outskirts of Cape Triumph, and here Tom and Aviel left me. “We disappear with the dawn,” he said with a smile. “But I hope you can handle things now.”

I got off the mare. My legs were so stiff from all the riding that I nearly fell over. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.” I glanced at Aviel. “Either of you.”

“Our pleasure,” he said. She simply nodded in acknowledgment as she mounted her horse. He sketched me a bow from his saddle. “Que Ariniel te garde, Lady Witmore.”

I couldn’t help a smile, both at hearing a pirate perfectly deliver an old Lorandian proverb and at having Ariniel invoked on my behalf. Back at my parents’ crypt, I’d dismissed the glorious angel who helped with safe passages, but I could certainly use her help now. I waved to the pirates, and their horses soon thundered out of sight.

I walked into Cape Triumph alone. I didn’t know the exact time, but seeing so many businesses open didn’t bode well. The trial would be starting soon. What would Cedric think when he didn’t see me among the spectators? That I’d abandoned him. No. He knew me too well. He’d know I was working to save him. I just hoped I could do it.

I went to Nicholas Adelton’s home and found him walking out the door. He sized me up from head to toe. “I’m running late and had planned to go to the courthouse—but it looks like you need me more.”

“Gideon Stewart talked to you?”

“About his tenuous plan? Yes. And I really didn’t think it could be pulled off in time . . . especially the part about the woman with nothing coming up with five hundred gold.”

I pulled back my coat and showed him the money bag.

He shook his head and laughed. “Never a dull moment with you.”

“Will you help us? I know it’s a lot to ask after everything we—”

“Miss Bailey,” he interrupted. “Let’s go find the Westhaven representatives.”

They were staying at an inn in town, one of the nicer ones. The common room here was quiet and orderly, and Nicholas and I sat at a table while the innkeeper fetched the Westhaven representatives. I yawned once, then again.

“You look like you’re ready to fall asleep,” Nicholas said.

“Just need a quick break,” I said. “Then I’ll get a second wind. Or maybe I’m on to my third or fourth at this point.”

I could tell he was struggling to say what came next. “Adelaide . . . you didn’t do anything, uh, illegal to get that money, did you?”

“No.” I reconsidered. “Well, not exactly. Maybe kind of. I don’t know. No one was hurt, if that makes you feel better.”

“Somewhat.”

A man and a woman approached our table. They looked respectfully middle class and were dressed no differently than anyone else. After seeing the Grashond residents, I wasn’t sure what to expect from those working toward a religiously tolerant colony.

“I’m Edwin Harrison, and this is my wife, Mary.” The man looked us over, no doubt perplexed by the extreme contrast in my and Nicholas’s attire. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“We’d like to buy a stake in Westhaven,” said Nicholas.

Edwin instantly transformed. “Absolutely! How wonderful. We’re so eager to have more people join our endeavor. Dear, would you go get one of the contracts?” He turned back to us while she went upstairs. “You must tell me more about yourselves, Mister and Mistress—”

Nicholas and I exchanged amused looks. “It’s not for us,” I said, though I would be affected if this worked. “It’s for someone else.”

A little of Edwin’s enthusiasm diminished. “That’s highly irregular.”

“The man in question is detained,” explained Nicholas. “I’ll be serving as proxy.”

“Highly irregular,” Edwin repeated. Mary returned with several pieces of paper.

“I’m his attorney,” Nicholas told them. “And this young lady is his—”

“Wife,” I finished.

Nicholas hesitated as he took that in and then made a quick recovery. “And should Mister Harrison doubt that, you could of course show him the proof.”

“It’s with a magistrate in Hadisen,” I said. Giving that up was a big secret, but legally, I should have a fair amount of power to act on Cedric’s behalf, especially with Nicholas as legal backup. Considering the trouble we were already in, revealing our marriage couldn’t really make things worse.

“Never a dull moment,” Nicholas murmured with a half smile. He turned back to the Harrisons. “So, you see, there’s no problem with our going forward for him.”

Edwin wavered a bit more and then conceded. “Very well then. We’re eager to begin our work with those passionate about our vision.”

He and Nicholas began going over the paperwork. I knew a little bit about the terms from Cedric, but hearing it laid out in detail was fascinating. Most of the other colonies were founded on orders of the king, who then appointed governors and other prominent leaders. Westhaven’s founding had been initiated by the crown as well, following ceding of the land by the Icori in another morally questionable truce. Unlike other colonies, the crown operated this one as a business in response to those clamoring for freedom to practice their faith. The priests of Uros might want to hunt down and persecute heretics, but the king found it easier to simply ship them off.

“Essentially, we are buying from the crown the right to lead Westhaven—though we’re still a royal colony under Osfrid,” Edwin explained. “Each stake helps pay off that price. We’re nearly there and can begin officially drawing up charters, though we’ve begun some rough drafts already. Those doing the early buy-ins can take part in the planning. From that group, we’ll elect who fills the important positions—eventually, all citizens will participate in such an election, but that’s further down the road.”

“And all faiths can worship there,” I said.

Mary gave me a gentle smile. “Yes, that’s our primary purpose.”

Nicholas read each part in detail, suggesting a few clarifications that the Harrisons had no quarrel with. When Nicholas was satisfied, he wrote out the final affidavit on Cedric’s behalf, reaffirming a commitment to Westhaven and its laws. He signed as proxy and then looked up, his pen hovering over the paper.

“I, uh, have a bit more irregularity to suggest, but we’d like to backdate this as well.”

Edwin frowned. “How far?”

“About three weeks,” I said.

“Some might consider that perjury,” said Edwin pointedly. “Something I’m sure a man of the law would know.”

“If you don’t do it, Cedric will die,” I blurted out. “He’s on trial for Alanzan heresy, and we need to claim Westhaven’s amnesty.”

The troubled look in Edwin’s eyes didn’t reassure me, but Mary laid her hand over his. “Dear, isn’t this what the point is? To prevent this kind of atrocity?”

Edwin took a few more moments and then exhaled. “Date it,” he told Nicholas. Nicholas did, and then Edwin signed underneath as witness—also using the early date. He took my hard-earned money.

I felt like crying, but maybe that was the lack of sleep. “Thank you—thank you! You have no idea—”

The inn’s door burst open, and a wide-eyed laborer peered in. “A hanging! There’s going to be a hanging! They convicted that Alanzan devil!”

Nicholas groaned, but I was already on my feet. “No, no! We are not too late. We can’t be.” I grabbed the papers and sprinted for the door. Nicholas caught up quickly.

“Wait for me—the rabble loves an execution. It’ll be madness out there.”

He was right. We joined a flood of people heading across town, eager for blood. I wished we had horses but wasn’t sure we would’ve gotten far in this crowd. I tried to fix my mind on the journey, not imagining what might happen to Cedric if I didn’t make it. “I knew it could be soon,” I called to Nicholas over the noise. “But I hoped not this soon.”

“The governor makes the call on when the sentence is carried out,” Nicholas said. “And this governor is pretty motivated to see this so-called justice done. I’m sure they’ll delay enough to get a good crowd. They like an audience—scares people into behaving.”

The thought of Cedric’s execution was beyond comprehension. What if they did it? And I wasn’t there in his last moments?

The courthouse came into sight. They’d already put up the gallows, and a few dark figures stood on it. One almost certainly was Cedric. The crowd bottlenecked when we finally reached our destination. Everyone wanted a good view, but they could only get so close. No one wanted to give up the spot they’d fought for, so pushing our way forward was difficult.

Near the back, I caught sight of Aiana. She had a hand to her eyes to shield against the sun and was scanning the crowd. She hurried over. “Adelaide! I wondered where you were. Have you seen Mira?”

“No, but I thought she’d be here. I have to get through,” I said urgently. “I have to get up there.”

She joined us unhesitatingly, and Nicholas asked, “Was Warren Doyle exonerated?” She scowled and nodded.

Aiana helped shove our way through the crowds. We received a lot of angry curses but pushed on anyway. It was still slow going, and we were barely halfway through when Governor Doyle moved to the front of the gallows. I could see Cedric clearly now, his good arm bound behind his back, and my heart sank. Warren stood nearby with a hooded hangman.

“Good citizens of Denham,” the governor shouted. “We are here to see justice done—to help purify our colony and drive off evil forces within it.”

The crowd had quieted a little, and I decided to take my chances. “Governor Doyle!” I shouted. “Governor Doyle!”

He didn’t hear, but a few irritated bystanders shushed me. I attempted to move closer.

“Today, I give you a heretic—not just any heretic but one of the foul Alanzans.” Hisses sounded around us. “One who practices dark arts and has unholy communion with the six wayward angels.”

I’d gotten a little closer and tried again. “Governor Doyle!”

He still didn’t hear, but those in front of me turned around to see what was happening. They gave way to me out of simple curiosity, and my next attempt was heard: “Governor Doyle!”

He searched for the voice and spotted me. “Lady Witmore. You missed the trial.”

The crowd parted for me, and getting to the front was easy. I hurried to the gallows stairs, locking eyes with Cedric. A couple of soldiers started to block me, but Warren shook his head at them.

“Let her say goodbye.” There was no kindness in his voice.

I held the papers in the air. “You can’t execute him! He’s a citizen of Westhaven! I have the proof. He’s allowed to practice there, and you have to honor that here.”

Warren’s condescending look turned into a snarl. “Take your forged papers and get out of here.”

“They’re not forgeries,” Nicholas called from below. He and Aiana had worked their way up in the crowd. “I’m an attorney, and I completed them with Westhaven’s chief representative. Everything’s in order. Mister Thorn’s citizenship was intact the day you found the Alanzan items.”

“How convenient this just surfaced,” snapped the governor. “You should’ve presented this ‘evidence’ before the verdict. This demon will be brought to justice, and I’ll be damned if . . .”

He trailed off as his eyes lifted to something beyond me. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see what had caught his attention. A group of riders was charging down the road, oblivious to anything in their way. The panicked crowd split up, frantic to get to safety.

“Governor!” cried one of the men when they were within hearing. “The Icori are here! A whole force of them!”

Governor Doyle regarded the man as if he was crazy. “There haven’t been Icori in the city in years—or anywhere in Denham.”

The man pointed. “They’re right behind me! Call the soldiers!”

But as I’d noticed before, Cape Triumph didn’t have a large military presence. There had been no need, now that threats from the Icori and Lorandians were nonexistent. The crown had diverted the bulk of its might to more vulnerable colonies, leaving the old fort all but abandoned. Today, crowd management was being handled by scattered militia and a handful of remaining soldiers.

I had a hard time believing the Icori claim too, but then I saw what came down the road next. A pack of nearly fifty horses approached, surrounded in a cloud of dust. As they grew closer, I saw the bright colors of plaid wool draped over the riders. Sunlight shone on heads of red and gold hair. Equally visible were swords and shields.

Chaos ensued. The crowd broke, screaming as they ran for what they hoped was safety. Governor Doyle began shouting for the militia to assemble, but it was nearly impossible to manage in this frenzy. I urgently beckoned Nicholas to come up the steps with me.

I didn’t know what was happening, but I wasn’t going to leave Cedric tied up when a battle was about to start. I ran over to him and sliced his ropes.

“You’re okay? You’re okay?” I asked, taking in the beloved features.

“Yes—yes.” He touched my cheek briefly and peered around, having the same sentiment as me. “We need to get out of here. Up the north highway—take to the woods.”

Nicholas nodded. “We can get help in the towns there, maybe make it to Archerwood Colony. Their militia’s bigger, and they still have some army left.”

We turned for the gallows stairs and found Warren blocking our path. Amazingly, only an hour after being found not guilty, he’d gotten a hold of a gun. “You’re not leaving,” he said. “Maybe we’re all going to die here, but I’m going to be the one who finishes you.”

I glanced frantically at the approaching Icori. They hadn’t attacked, but there’d been no need, with everyone fleeing. The militia had finally started to assemble, but so far, there were only about two dozen.

“Stop this,” I told him. “This isn’t the time for a vendetta! You can get away with us. We’re going north.”

“Save your own skin,” added Cedric. “You’re good at that.”

It wasn’t, perhaps, the most tactful comment to use when trying to sway Warren to our side, but I doubted anything would have. A voice suddenly boomed, “Where is the governor?”

We all turned. The Icori had reached the bottom of the platform. There’d still been no sign of attack. They seemed remarkably calm, though those in the group’s periphery watched the colonists warily and held their weapons tightly.

Many were painted with blue woad, just like the two Icori we’d met on the road, covered in symbols I didn’t know. Women warriors rode along with the men. Copper ornaments and feathers decorated riders and horses, and their woolen tartans made a sea of color. Looking closely, I could see a pattern to it. Several riders to the side wore plaid of red and white. Another cluster wore red and blue. The group in the front wore green and black.

This was the group the speaker was in. He was in front, all tanned muscles and white-blond hair and—

He was the Icori we’d met on the road to Hadisen.

“Where is the governor?” His Osfridian was still clear.

Governor Doyle hesitantly stepped forward. “I’m the governor. You have no business here. Get out before my army beats yours to the ground.” It was a bluff, seeing as the militia had thirty at most by now. I think several had fled.

“We do have business,” the Icori man said. “We’ve come seeking justice—your help in righting a wrong done to us.” His eyes flicked toward Warren. “I was told we’d need more than two people to have our demands heard. So here we are.”

“You’ve had no wrongs done to you,” said Governor Doyle. “We’ve all agreed to the treaties. We’ve all obeyed them. You have your land, we have ours.”

“Soldiers are moving into our land and attacking our villages—soldiers from the place you call Lorandy.” The Icori man met the governor’s gaze unblinkingly. “And your own people are aiding them and letting them cross your territories.”

This caused a nervous stir among our colonists, but Governor Doyle only grew angrier. “Impossible! Lorandians moving into your lands means they would flank ours. No man among us would allow such a thing.”

“Your own son would.”

A new speaker emerged from the Icori, bringing her horse beside the man.

And I knew her.

I hadn’t picked Tamsin out right away. Her red hair had blended into theirs, and she was dressed like them too, in a knee-length green dress edged in that plaid. Her hair hung in two long, loose braids intertwined with copper pendants. I’d been stunned when I saw her with the Grashond residents. But this . . . this was enough to make me think I was imagining things.

Her entire presence was calm and composed, very different from the wildly emotional demeanor I associated with her. “Your son and other traitors are working with the Lorandians to stir up discord and draw Osfrid’s army out of the central colonies—so that Hadisen and others can rebel against the crown.”

Warren lowered the gun and came to life beside us. “It’s a lie, Father! There’s no telling what these savages have brainwashed this girl into believing. What proof does she have for this absurdity?”

“The proof of being thrown off a boat in the middle of a storm when I discovered your plans,” she replied.

“Lies,” said Warren. He took a few steps back, panic filling his face. “This girl is delusional!”

A man suddenly climbed up the stairs. Warren spun around to face this newcomer. It was Grant Elliott, looking particularly bedraggled today, and he didn’t seem fazed by any of this. He strolled over beside me and looked as though a halted hanging, an Icori army, and potential traitors were part of an ordinary day for him.

“She’s telling the truth,” he said, locking his hard gaze on Governor Doyle and not Warren. The gruff Grant I remembered from the storm was back. “There are stacks of correspondence. Witnesses who’ll testify.”

“Elliott?” Warren gaped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Grant’s heavy gaze fell on Warren. “I think you know. About Courtemanche. About the ‘heretic couriers.’”

I saw the shift in Warren’s eyes, the moment when he was truly pushed over the edge by whatever those enigmatic words meant. And I knew, before he raised the gun at Grant, what was going to happen. “Look out!” I cried, throwing myself into Grant. I didn’t quite knock him over but pushed him out of the way enough to just barely evade the bullet that fired from Warren’s gun. That put me directly in front of him for the gun’s second bullet. And I could tell from his frantic expression that it didn’t really matter who he shot at this point.

Suddenly, I heard a thwack sound, and something moved in my periphery. The next thing I knew, Warren was lying on the ground, clutching his leg and screaming in agony. Something that looked like an arrow was sticking out of his knee. It was the same leg I’d stabbed him in. Grant knelt down to restrain Warren, but that seemed unnecessary given the wails of pain.

I, like many others, tried to figure out where the shot had come from. The Icori and the feeble militia looked equally baffled. At last, I found what I’d been searching for.

And I couldn’t tell in that moment which was more incredible, that Tamsin was among the Icori warriors . . .

. . . or that Mira was standing on an overturned wagon, wielding a crossbow.