7 
A LORD’S ORDERS
“I don’t know why we have to go tonight,” Uwen whined, kicking a pale pink blossom from its stem. “I want to sleep.”
Uwen, Drest, Thorkill, and the twins were gathered outside Wimarca’s hut, waiting for their father’s order. It was almost dusk, and their last order had been to rest but be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Uwen, lad, you know it’s not safe for us here,” sighed Thorkill. He was on his knees in the grass, carving the bark off sticks and giving them sharp points: simple arrows for his bow. Emerick was leaning against the doorway behind him, swathed in a trailing blanket.
“I say we go up to the huts and take whatever beds we want and slay the villagers who try to stop us.” With a swift kick, Uwen sent a heavy purple blossom tumbling.
“I say we put your head in the healer’s pot,” muttered Gobin, “and let her turn it into stew. A great deal of good your mind is doing us.”
Thorkill sighed again and began to carve another stick.
Drest nodded at her youngest brother. “Why don’t you sleep in Emerick’s bed? He’s not in it now.”
“You sleep in it, you lazy feathered slug.”
“Insult her again,” snarled Gobin, “and I’ll break your face.”
“And I’ll break the back of your neck,” added Nutkin.
Uwen reddened. “I’ll break you, you boar-witted toads! I’ll break your heads together!”
Thorkill slammed down a half-sharpened stick. “If I hear one more word from any of you, I shall take him to the river and dunk him until I’ve drowned sense into him. This unraveling of control makes men fail on a battlefield—”
“But we’re not on a battlefield!” Uwen burst out. “We’re in a stinking village in a filthy hut, and we’re about to go traveling for days and—”
“Look, you’ve done it now,” crowed Gobin.
In seconds, Thorkill had Uwen’s shoulder in one hand and Gobin’s in the other. “I warned you both. So it’s time for a bath, lads.”
Drest ran to Thorkill’s side. Both Uwen and Gobin were struggling in his grip, but neither was any closer to getting free.
“There’s an easy way to solve this,” Drest said. “Let me strike Uwen once. Then we’ll be even, and we can all rest and—”
“I’ll strike you so hard you’ll want to go hide in a real maiden’s shift!” howled Uwen.
“Stop it!”
The voice—sharp and low, fierce and noble—came from the door.
All the Mad Wolf’s children froze.
Emerick was gripping the frame to keep upright, the blanket now pooled at his feet. But even though he stood there in his torn, dirty tunic with bare legs, there was majesty in his figure, and power too.
“We cannot have this. Every one of our lives is in danger.”
Thorkill dropped his grip on his brothers. None of the four moved.
“Uwen.” Emerick pointed to the boy. “Go sit by that white shrub. Don’t kick it. And don’t speak like that to Drest again. She’s the only one of you who’s had the courage to meet the enemy alone.”
Uwen shuffled quickly to the white bush and sank to his knees.
“Gobin and Nutkin,” Emerick went on in that hard, cold voice, “go over to those trees in the opposite corner. Sit quietly.”
As if in one body, the twins silently retreated and settled onto the ground.
Thorkill let out a long laugh and went back to his weapons on the grass. “Well done, lord.”
Emerick’s mouth twitched. “Thank you.”
Drest drifted to his side. “That was a fearsome voice.”
“Ha. I can’t keep that up for long. It’s what my father called ‘the lord’s voice.’ My sister, Celestria, was brilliant at it. I never could do it as well as she.”
“Nay, lord, you did it well,” said Uwen from his knees. “I was so scared I nearly wet my hose.”
“It’s a fine voice,” Gobin called over his shoulder, “like your own battle cry.”
“You really are all exceptionally trained,” said Emerick. “Better than knights.”
The twins twisted around, smiling. Thorkill grinned. Uwen beamed.
And even Drest felt warm: Only a week ago, Emerick had been telling her how much her family deserved to hang.
A black whir shot through the sky above them, circled, and Mordag landed in the thatch.
Tig came striding down the path. “Your father wants you now. And Emerick, he wants you as well, but only if you can walk.”
“To the mill?” Emerick’s hand tightened on Drest’s shoulder. “I made it to the castle like this. Let’s see what I can do.”
It was dusk. Grimbol and Wulfric were kneeling on the grass by the mill, looking over the sacks of food that had been set there for their journey. As the rest of the war-band drew near, Emerick leaning on Drest, Grimbol stood and dusted off his knees.
“What do you think, lord? Are you feeling young and strong? You’ve walked all this way from the healer’s hut. Have you rested enough to walk farther?”
Emerick was pale. “I doubt it. My ribs—the wound from Maldred’s sword—”
“Nay, lord, if you’re feeling it after that short walk, you cannot come with us. That’s what I was afraid of.” Grimbol sighed. “I don’t like leaving you here alone. I do not trust the villagers to obey me when I am gone. Aye, one of us will have to stay behind.”
“I want to stay,” said Uwen. “Leave me, Da, and I’ll protect the lord.”
Drest scowled. “You only say that because you want to sleep. As soon as Da leaves, you’ll curl upon the floor with a blanket and let anyone with a blade walk in. Nay, Da, leave me. I’ve protected Emerick before. And I’m friends with Arnulf and Wimarca and I can make friends with the other villagers—and I’ll be safest here.”
She waited, her heart pounding.
“Nay, lass,” murmured her father. “We’ve been parted too much of late; I want you with me this time. Lads, which one of you will it be? Not Uwen, but of the rest?”
Silence but for the river’s gurgling and the creaking of the mill wheel.
“Should you not ask me who should stay?” Emerick said slowly. “I want Drest.” He paused. “And that is my order.”
Grimbol slipped free his dagger, examined the blade, and tested it against his thumbnail. Then he sheathed it. His lips were twitching.
“You sound so much like your sister, lord, like my wee lady Celestria.” Grimbol’s voice was strangely light. “Is Drest who you really want, out of all of us?”
“Yes. She’s saved my life enough times that I will not feel safe without her by my side. And she can protect herself as well. You can trust her, Grimbol.”
The old warrior gestured for his daughter to come near. “Don’t take risks, lass. If you see any castle men, call the village guards to take the lord into the fields and pretend he’s a farmer. Draw off the castle men. Use your skills to lose them in the woods. Then go back and take the lord to the woods, and hide until they’re gone. No fights, just running and hiding. Understand?” He turned to his sons. “Everyone, put a sack on your shoulder.”
Drest skipped back to Emerick and ducked under his arm.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
It was dark with a faint glimmer of the moon when the war-band reached the edge of the village laden with their supplies. Emerick had gone back to Wimarca’s hut, and Drest was with them alone. Each of her brothers embraced her. A lump came to her throat as she hugged them back.
“Remember: If you’re attacked, duck and parry,” said Gobin.
“And make sure you have a stick,” chimed in Nutkin. “Blast. We should have made her a spear.”
“Our wee Drest can make her own spear,” came Thorkill’s gentle voice. “But make sure you run before you fight; I don’t want to come back and find you hurt, lass.”
Wulfric leaned down and kissed her cheek, his corded beard brushing against her. “Just be yourself, Drest, and all will be well.”
“I wish I could stay with you, you bladder-headed squirrel’s bottom,” muttered Uwen in a choked voice.
Grimbol snapped his fingers. “Hunt formation, lads.”
The twins slipped to the front of the group. Thorkill swung the longbow from his back as Uwen charged to his side, and Wulfric marched between the two pairs.
Grimbol nodded at Drest. “Take good care of our lord. And yourself. We’ll be back in five days, maybe sooner.”
Was his jaw trembling? She didn’t have a good look; her father joined the lads at the end of their formation, and soon they were in the woods and, in moments, they were gone.
Drest waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps. Then she pivoted and headed back to the healer’s hut.