Adrastos knelt under the trees in the middle of the field chewing on her fingernails, muttering to herself as Rarr dangled from a limb just above her, grunting. Penelopas and Maveith packed up camp mostly in silence as Mr. Andvari stood nearby with Mayor Florinda.
“They will come back as soon as you leave.”
“Perhaps.”
“You started this,” insisted Mayor Florinda. “It’s only right you stay and finish it.”
“I cannot do that,” Mr. Andvari announced. He shook his head as he twirled his belt knife in his hands. “You should come with us.”
“Come with you?” Florinda shouted. “This is our home. We belong here. It’s you who caused this problem. We were fine until we opened our homes to you and yours.”
“You weren’t really fine,” Penelopas announced in a soft tone while continuing to work. Florinda looked over at Penelopas then back at Mr. Andvari who raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly.
“It is not for you to say what we were before you came,” insisted Florinda. “You are responsible for that boy’s death and the position you’ve put our community in. Do not abandon us.”
Mr. Andvari looked at Adrastos. Her anger seethed openly, gushing as crimson and as real as a gash to the skull with a rock. Adrastos bled for Pimgin and her hate grew with every thought of her dead brother. Mr. Andvari knew it as he looked down at his hands. The ancient blade had tasted blood and taken lives many times before. He tossed his thoughts as he twirled the blade. No more blood, he thought. There is another way. Mr. Andvari grasped the grip and sheathed the blade in the back of his belt where it belonged, with only the pommel visible. He rubbed the outside of the sheath feeling the shape of the words ιξός tooled into the leather. Mistletoe.
“Your people are no longer safe,” he stated with little inflection in his voice. Mr. Andvari’s eyes gazed from the ground to Florinda. Their eyes met. His eyes were sad but unrelenting. Mr. Andvari clenched his teeth then released as he took a breath. “This place is death for you all. I will not sacrifice my wards so you may keep your garden.”
“Then you will have us die for sure,” said Florinda squinting. Her voice was louder and sharp. Farmers gathered as the Leftovers continued packing. Mr. Andvari glanced at Adrastos and Maveith gathering the last items and stacking them in a neat line. He turned his gaze to Geros standing nearby. The bear was bare. No harness. Nothing.
If Pim were here … he thought. Florinda continued speaking but Mr. Andvari stopped listening. He envisioned Pim quietly harnessing Geros, petting the old bear as he did, maybe whispering kinds words as he worked. Pim would have had Geros packed and strapped an hour ago. I wouldn’t even have had to say anything. No more. No more.
“Go with us.” Mr. Andvari paused and scanned the crowd. Most of the farmers had gathered around.
Adrastos yawped like a puppy in a cage from beneath her tree.
Mr. Andvari glanced at Adrastos, sighed, then continued. “There is no need for you to remain here. We all know it’s certain death.”
“What of justice?” Adrastos shouted into the air as she stared at the mountains. Mr. Andvari kept his eyes on Mayor Florinda.
“You may stay or you may go with us,” he said ignoring Adrastos. “Such is your choice. But your choice does not change ours. We are leaving this place behind.”
“You ask us to leave our home?” asked the Mayor.
“We would not have to leave if it were not for you people,” shouted a farmer as the crowd murmured.
“Ask? No. I offer you another solution. A way out. It’s up to you to take it or not.” He turned to the crowd. “And you are breaking the law by being here and not sending your children to the abbey in D’wyee,” reminded Mr. Andvari. “But we do not condemn your choice. Nor will we report it.”
“Your kindness is overflowing,” mocked Florinda.
“Choose your own path,” said Mr. Andvari coolly. “But do it quickly. We will leave within the day.” He turned to his wards, whistled then motioned for Penelopas and Maveith to follow him as he moved to the trees where Adrastos sat and Rarr hung. He knelt down on his haunches in front of Adrastos. Penelopas and Maveith filled in the gaps creating a circle. “We leave tonight. We will travel all night and most of the next day.” He scanned the group, stopping at Adrastos. He stared at her but she kept her eyes on what was left of her fingernails. “We will move hard. We will move fast. Most of all,” he paused and surveyed them again. Everyone had their eyes on Mr. Andvari except Adrastos. “… we will move silently.”
“Cowardly!” Adrastos yawped again.
“We aren’t going to stop. This will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. It will test your constitution.”
“We should stay here and fight for these people,” Adrastos said, raising her eyes to his. Her face was red from tears she shed, but no more did she cry. Adrastos squinted and snarled. “We should stay and fight for Pim not slither away in the dark like some yeasty, motley-livered clotpole.”
“That sounds glorious and honorable,” said Mr. Andvari. “War is not glorious or beautiful. It is excruciating.” Mr. Andvari pointed to the farmers. The community was standing in a crowd discussing their choices. They were a hearty people, able to work long days in the field. “They are not fighters,” he said. “Look at them. They can hunt with bows and arrows and fight off the occasional wolf. Defend against professional mercenaries? Hardly. They will be slaughtered, Adrastos. Slaughtered. If we stay and fight, by the end of the day, I will be standing,” he said stoutly. “The same will not be true of them. This valley will stink with the smell of their guts hanging loose and the sight will stay with you for the rest of your life. If you make it.”
“We’ll make it,” said Adrastos.
“You are better fighters than those farmers, I have no doubt, Adrastos.” Mr. Andvari’s voice was calm. “The barbarians know that, too. They will split us up by attacking on multiple fronts. We have nowhere to hide here. No way to counter them except to huddle.”
“Huddle!” exclaimed Rarr. “Huddle, huddle, huddle.” Adrastos tilted her head and smiled.
“Then let’s huddle,” she said.
“Really?” mocked Mr. Andvari, his voice louder and sharp. “That works well when you have enough warriors to secure a tight wall around the outside of the group. Look around, Adrastos. Are there enough of us to surround this entire community?” He didn’t wait for her to look or respond. “No. If we could keep the barbarians in a tight group and keep them focused on just us, then we have a chance. But they won’t do that. They know how to fight. They will split us up and keep us from helping one another.”
Adrastos folded her arms and snorted. She stared at the ground in silence. Mr. Andvari surveyed his wards again. Maveith nodded. He understood. Penelopas kept her head down. She was no melee soldier either. Her strength in battle was from a safe distance.
“They won’t kill everyone,” Mr. Andvari said lowering his voice. Penelopas looked up, her eyes wide open. “Adrastos?” Mr. Andvari asked. She lowered her head, but peered up at him with her eyes before looking back down. “Do you understand what I mean?” She nodded so slightly he almost didn’t see it. “They will take prisoners. And they will do unspeakable things to those prisoners,” Mr. Andvari whispered.
“Vicq will want Adrastos alive,” said Maveith.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Andvari. “He is focused on you.”
“Mr. Andvari?” asked Penelopas. “If the villagers go with us into the forest won’t we still have the same problem?” Mr. Andvari closed his eyes and took a breath. “I mean, the barbarians will track us all for sure and attack us on the road. It’s no different than if we stay here and fight.”
“Yes. You are right. Except …” he paused and looked different. His face was squinty as if he suddenly hurt. “It’s not a real choice,” he finally admitted. “The villagers will never go with us. So, we don’t have to worry about that.”
“You are playing them?” said Penelopas.
“No. They make their own choices. They can choose to go with us. But they won’t.”
“There’s no good choice here,” said Penelopas. “If we stay some of us and most of the villagers will probably die.”
“Yes.” said Mr. Andvari.
“Those who survive will be tortured,” said Maveith.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Andvari.
“If we leave, the farmers will be killed and tortured, but we will live. If we leave and the villagers go with us, most of us will die and the others will be tortured.”
“War is only glorious in the stories,” Mr. Andvari noted. “In real life, it is one horrible choice after another.”
“And we have to live with whatever happens,” said Maveith as he twirled a twig he found on the ground in his fingers.
“The only way I can protect you is to get out of here. Even that’s not certain.”
“What if the mercenaries follow us instead of attacking the village?” said Maveith his eyes wide with the realization. Mr. Andvari shook his head.
“The only way to protect the villagers is if the barbarians track us when we leave,” Penelopas said raising her voice.
“Yes,” said Andvari. “Now you understand the choice I have to make.”
“Sneak away in darkness and keep us safe,” said Penelopas. “Or use us as bait to draw the barbarians away from the villagers.”
“And probably get you killed or captured and tortured,” said Mr. Andvari. “War is not glorious.” The dwarf stood and brushed dirt off his kilt. “Stay together for a while.” Mr. Andvari left the bevy under the shade of the tree and found his old friend. He brushed the bear down and spoke to him as he put the harness on.
“We should stay and fight,” muttered Adrastos. She ripped a handful of grass from the ground, holding the clump high as clods of dirt fell down. “Kill them for what they’ve done.”
“Kill, kill, kill!” screamed Rarr, dangling from the tree limb above. His face was red from the blood rushing to head. Adrastos tossed the clump of grass at Rarr’s chest. He caught it and smelled the dirt, rubbing the roots on his face as he cackled.
“Really?” asked Penelopas. “Of all the choices, staying here and fighting is your best one?”
“I don’t care as long as there’s barbarian bloodshed,” snapped Adrastos.
Maveith looked at Penelopas and blew a small stream of air from his pursed lips. His eyes were wide. “What about the villagers?”
“I don’t care about them,” Adrastos snapped again. “They didn’t care about Pim. They don’t even care about themselves—cowering down to those savages, letting them do whatever they want. Selfish, craven kotsiros.”
“They are afraid,” said Penelopas.
“My people were afraid, too, but we stood up to our slavers,” she snorted. “These people want us to fight for them while they shiver and shake.”
“What if we use ourselves as bait?” asked Penelopas.
“I. Don’t. Care!” Adrastos shouted. “As long as I get to kill Vicq, nothing else matters.”
“Kill Vicq!” Rarr parroted. He flipped his body and landed on his feet, squatting. Rarr took two steps and lunged at the tree trunk. His feet planted on the side of the tree, then he flipped his body over landing back on his feet. “Kill, kill, Vicq. Kill, kill, Vicq!”
“Have you ever killed before?” Maveith proposed softly. Adrastos studied his calm face, unable to read him. “I have.” Penelopas turned toward him, too. His face was emotionless until he met Penelopas’s gaze. He closed his eyes deeply and breathed holding back tears then he looked down. “I killed a man. An innocent man trying to stay alive and feed his family. I thought he deserved it. I was told he deserved it. And I slaughtered him proudly.” He raised his head wiping away the tears streaming down his red face.
“Maveith …” started Penelopas.
“It’s not the same,” Adrastos announced heavily. “It’s not the same at all!” Her voice grew louder and higher with every sentence she spoke.
“I can still smell his corpse on the ground and taste his blood splatter in my mouth. I see his face every night.” Maveith covered his eyes with his hands, remembering the face of his father.3
“I’ll gladly remember the smell and taste of Vicq’s guts for the rest of my days!”
“It’s not as easy as you think,” Maveith’s voice cracked.
No one’s telling you to kill an innocent, stupid.” Adrastos flung her hands in the air. “Vicq isn’t innocent. We saw him kill our friend, our brother. Pim! Pimgin Xofire! There was no reason for him to die. It was over. Vicq deserves justice.”
“Justice! Justice! Justice!” Rarr screamed. He flipped out of the tree and hooted and twirled, making sword lunges in the air.
“Is it justice you seek?” asked Penelopas. “Or revenge?”
“Justice for Vicq.” Adrastos leaned into Penelopas’s face with a growling whisper. “Revenge for me!” She stood and took a deep breath. “In the end, it’s all the same.”
“He’s been terrorizing this village for a long time,” said Penelopas. “They do nothing about his … torture. That much is true.”
“He will not stop!” Adrastos yelled. “Never. If it’s not this village, it’s another one. Another Pim. Another kid.”
“Another! Another! Another” Rarr parroted as he spun between and around the Leftovers.”
“I vowed to never fight again,” said Maveith, standing. “Never.”
“Then some other kid will die because you refuse to act,” screamed Adrastos. “Can you live with that the rest of your life, too?” Maveith squatted, covering his eyes with his hands again. Rarr stopped in front of Maveith and squatted with him.
“Die, die, die.” the boy muttered softly. “No more Pim die.” Maveith swiped at Rarr, but the barbarian dodged and returned to his squat, peering sweetly at Maveith’s hands, looking through the cracks between his fingers. Maveith slid his fingers open. Rarr’s round face was cocked to the side, his teeth showing slightly. “No more Pim die,” he whispered into Maveith’s hands. Maveith stood and flung his arms down and screamed. The bevy, the village, the mayor, they all stopped and stared at Maveith. All except Mr. Andvari.
Mr. Andvari scratched Geros under the chin then marched to the tree where the Leftovers stood silent.
“We are standing our ground!” Adrastos stood and faced Mr. Andvari.
The dwarf closed his eyes, pulled warm air into his lungs, and held his breath. He clenched his fist then released it as he exhaled and opened his eyes. “Do not revel in death.”
“I seek justice for Pim,” she shouted.
“You seek revenge,” Mr. Andvari whispered.
“You plan to sneak away in the darkness don’t you?” The veins in Adrastos’ neck popped as she clenched her teeth.
“This path will haunt you in this life and the next,” he finished as he turned and walked away.
Adrastos followed him. “It’s better than walking a deliós’ path!
Rarr jumped from the tree and followed behind her, lurching along on his feet and hands like an ape. He chanted, “Deliós! Deliós! Deliós!”
The dwarf headed toward Geros.
“You can’t do this,” she screamed. You can’t do this to Pim.”
Mr. Andvari walked.
Adrastos stopped and clenched her fists. “I hate you!” she howled. “I hate you forever!”
Rarr crawled between her legs and peered at Mr. Andvari, mocking Adrastos’ voice in grunts.
Mr. Andvari reached Geros and stroked the old bear’s coat. He swallowed hard. “Been hated before, haven’t we, mate?”
Penelopas looked at Maveith and grimaced. “I’m afraid,” she said.
“Of war or death?” he asked.
“Of pain,” she retorted.
“I’m already in pain,” said Maveith. “That doesn’t scare me. What scares me is winning.”
“Winning?”
“Living. Living with the memory of it all.” He stepped up to Penelopas and looked down at her. “Dying is easy. Surviving is hard. Mr. Andvari knows and he’s trying to tell us, tell Adrastos, but she won’t listen.” Penelopas’s gloved hand brushed a blade of grass from Maveith’s chest. “I’ll help you survive if you help me,” he whispered.
“What if only one of us makes it?” she whispered back.
Maveith brought his hand up to touch her face, but Penelopas pulled back. Maveith sat down under the tree. Adrastos stomped toward the villagers with Rarr crawling and rolling between her legs. Mayor Florinda scowled at Mr. Andvari then hugged the orea.
Mr. Andvari lashed nothing but weapons to Geros. Penelopas strode up softly and picked up her backpack, looking at Mr. Andvari. He walked over and took her backpack from her as she tried to put it on her shoulders.
“Wait,” he commanded softly. “Take everything out of it.” He avoided eye contact, staying focused on the things instead. He snatched his backpack and pulled everything out tossing them onto the blanket next to the Mayor’s tent where they had been sleeping. He sorted through it and kept flint and steel, rope, candles, dried meat and fruit, and a small pouch of herbs and balms. Everything else he left on the blanket.
“Adrastos is going to stay and fight,” Penelopas said. “She will die.”
“She won’t die,” Mr. Andvari said absently as he carefully packed.
“Vicq will keep her alive and torture her in unimaginable ways,” Penelopas whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening. Mr. Andvari stopped for a second, then continued to pull items from his pack.
“Adrastos is beyond reason. She will not stop until she confronts Vicq.”
“If we try to sneak away, she’ll leave us and come back to the village to make a stand,” Penelopas observed. “Right?”
“I thought I could get her to go if … it’s no matter.”
“I think Maveith will go with us,” admitted Penelopas. Mr. Andvari slowly turned his gaze to Penelopas, looking her in the eyes. His eyes were wide open and stared into hers.
“I need your help,” Mr. Andvari kneeled down beside Penelopas’s pack and rummaged through it. He picked up some more dried meat, bandages, and salve and dumped them in his pack. “Leave the rest,” he said, “including your backpack. Mr. Andvari grabbed his pack with his left hand and went through each ward’s pack, placing dried meat and anything he wanted into his. He picked it up and weighed it in the air, moving the pack up and down.