Taking a deep breath, Wren embraced the Source, feeling power flood her body until every part of her skin was tingling with unspent energy. On her left Danoph didn’t react, but on the other side she heard the others shifting uncomfortably. They could sense it coursing through her and thought it meant that conflict was imminent. Wren was nervous, but as their leader she was trying her best not to show it. With a small amount of effort her eyesight sharpened until the blurry landscape ahead came into focus.
Gillen’s Jaw lay before her in the valley below. It was a quiet fishing village located beside a lake that had once been a popular place for anglers seeking a challenge. On the outskirts were a few large houses, the largest of which belonged to the previous Queen of Shael. Since her only surviving daughter, Olivia, had taken the throne the summer home and those surrounding it had mostly gone to ruin. Queen Olivia didn’t have money to waste on such frivolities. So the buildings sat idle and became a once-glorious reminder of a better time for the country and the village.
“Why here?” asked Kimme, scratching at her armpits. Wren tried very hard not to wrinkle her nose at the girl. She didn’t have fleas, just poor personal hygiene, and would only wash when others insisted the smell kept them awake at night.
“It might not be here,” said Wren, which was why she’d sent four groups of students, each under the guidance of a teacher, to watch for trouble at other villages. She didn’t have enough people to cover every community, but then again neither did Boros, which was what she was counting on. One raider on a horse demanding a tithe would be chased away from a village, no matter who’d sent him. Boros would have to choose his next target wisely.
“So, can I go to sleep?” asked Kimme.
“Only if you don’t snore again,” said Wren.
Kimme grunted and turned away. She’d been elbowed awake at various points during the last three days for dozing off. This was the fourth day in a row Wren had been waiting for Boros to strike. She knew it was tedious and required a great deal of patience, which was why she’d rotated those who visited a different village each day. Everyone needed to know what they were fighting for, but it was difficult to remain focused all day with nothing to do.
The first few hours were always tense, with those beside her expecting raiders to come pouring out of the surrounding hills to attack the village. When that didn’t happen, the adrenaline began to fade, tiredness crept in and muscle cramps and boredom took its place.
Danoph always came with her. He remained a steady presence that helped her maintain the appearance of being calm. She also insisted on regularly bringing Kimme, despite her pungent aroma, as she was one of the strongest students to arrive. As a farmer’s daughter she’d regularly lifted cows and even horses above her head, moving them around like toys, and ploughing fields using only her willpower. If not for a nosey neighbour who’d rallied the village against her, Kimme would have continued doing the work of five people on the farm. Her parents had been distraught at seeing her leave, which was a rarity among children with magic.
“There’s movement in the main street,” said Wren, watching as a crowd of adults started walking down the middle. Ahead of them was a woman dressed in ragged leather armour dragging a man along by his hair. The raider had a bloody dagger in one hand and Wren could see splashes of red on the man’s face and chest.
Something flickered briefly in one of the windows of the old abandoned mansion on the hill and a frown creased her brow. She gave Kimme an order and the girl happily complied, scuttling away to the west of their position before circling back to the village. The two other students with her she sent to the east, just in case, while Danoph would come with her. He still had an ongoing struggle holding onto power when he could embrace the Source, but she didn’t need him for his strength. His instincts for people were especially useful in tense situations.
Maintaining her grip on the Source, Wren started running towards the main street of Gillen’s Jaw. Slowly the conversation between the raider and the villagers reached her magic-augmented hearing.
“You brought this on yourself,” the raider was saying, brandishing her dagger. “And every time you refuse Boros it will cost you another life. Maybe next time it will be one of your children.”
Even though she was still quite far away Wren was able to reach out and wrench the blade from the raider’s hand. It flew across the street and buried itself in the front door of a nearby building. There were gasps in the gathered crowd but the raider didn’t seem alarmed. It was almost as if she’d been expecting Wren. Instead of releasing the injured man she drew another dagger and pulled him tight against her chest, pressing the blade to his throat.
Wren stopped a short distance away from the raider and her captive. Danoph stood next to her, silent and watchful. His eyes drifted up to the roof of a nearby building and then back to the street. The gathered crowd were clearly scared for their friend, but none of them said a word.
“Want to try that again?” said the raider. She pressed the blade to the front of the man’s throat, wrapping both arms around his neck, almost as if they were lovers. If Wren tried to yank it free it would slice open his neck.
She had thought the raider would be older, perhaps a veteran of the war like many of the others she’d seen. Instead she was facing a young woman from Seveldrom who hadn’t seen thirty summers. With wild straw-coloured hair and gentle features, she might once have been pretty, if not for the void behind her wintry blue eyes. Much like other raiders the woman lacked compassion. Her language was violence, used as a club to get what she wanted. Just as Danoph had predicted Wren thought it might be the only thing she understood.
“I could make you drop it, or I could just make your head explode,” said Wren, making herself smile.
The raider paled slightly but quickly recovered. “This village isn’t yours.”
“It doesn’t belong to Boros either,” said Wren and the raider twitched at the mention of his name. “Leave these people in peace and never come back.”
“Or what?”
It seemed as if a show of force was necessary. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Much to Wren’s surprise the raider grinned, but somehow the smile never made it to her lifeless eyes. Pursing her lips, she let out a sharp whistle and Wren sensed movement on both sides. Looking up at the buildings she saw three archers on either side, but instead of aiming at her they were pointing at the crowd.
“You might be able to stop me, but I doubt you can save everyone,” said the raider.
It was a good idea and it showed both forethought and caution. If Wren hadn’t showed up Gillen’s Jaw would’ve become yet another village paying a tithe to Boros. But now the raiders had the opportunity to get rid of her at the same time as scaring another community. With so many people witnessing her defeat the raiders wouldn’t need to work as hard at intimidating other villages in the area.
Wren thought it might even have worked if they hadn’t underestimated her.
“Your move,” said the woman.
Never one for dramatics, Wren simply focused a trickle of the power she was channelling on her throat. “Now,” she said, the word reverberating down the road. Kimme struck on the left and all three of the raiders on one side of the street were suddenly left clutching a collection of kindling in their hands. A moment later the raiders were thrown into the street, one of them landing badly and breaking an ankle. The other archers followed suit, landing without their bows in the street while people in the crowd dodged the falling bodies.
While everyone was distracted Wren reached out and shattered the dagger then wrenched the raider’s arm to one side where she heard it pop out of joint. The villager scuttled away back to the relative safety of the crowd who huddled together like frightened sheep. In other communities the people had shown some defiance, but here it seemed as if they were downtrodden and willing to submit to whoever came along.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said the raider between gritted teeth. Her right arm hung down at her side. Her men were all lying in the street, bruised and battered, but she remained defiant. “You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“Neither can Boros.”
“Something is wrong,” muttered Danoph. “She’s too calm.”
The raider gritted her teeth and gestured at the villagers. “Tell her.”
A sturdy woman with grey hair stepped forward from the crowd. A creeping sense of dread crept up Wren’s spine when she noticed the woman was constantly wringing her hands.
“You need to leave and never come back. We’re fine. We don’t need your help.” She was clearly terrified of something, but Wren didn’t know if it was the raider or something else.
“Why are there no children in the village?” whispered Danoph.
Scanning the crowd Wren noticed there wasn’t a single child. “What have you done?” she asked. “Where are all the children?”
The raider gave her an awful grin. A mix of pain and triumph. “They’re around here somewhere,” she said, vaguely gesturing at the surrounding houses. “A few of my friends are keeping them company. To be honest, they’re depraved men and more than a little twisted in the head. They have a thing for young flesh and are difficult to control. Right now it must be like a bear finding a whole hive full of honey.”
The raider’s words carried around the street and there were a few wails of agony from the crowd. Far too late to be of any use, Wren realised their fear was not for themselves. All of this had been carefully orchestrated for her benefit.
“You might be good at pushing people about, or breaking weapons with your magic, but you’re not too bright, are you?”
“What do you want?” asked Wren.
“Take your group of freaks, crawl back to whatever hole you came from and pack up. I want you gone. What was it you said?” she asked rhetorically. “That was it. ‘Leave and never come back.’”
For a moment Wren considered killing the woman and the other raiders lying in the street. After that, with help from the villagers, it wouldn’t take her long to find the children being held captive. The problem with her plan was that if even one of the children was hurt the villagers would never forgive her. It wouldn’t matter that she’d been trying to protect all of them.
“What happens to the children after we leave?”
The raider cocked her head to one side. “Whatever I want.”
The message was clear. She was in control. It didn’t matter if Wren stayed and fought or walked away, the raider would decide the fate of the children.
“We’ll leave,” said Wren.
After all of her planning, shame at such a defeat burned but Wren knew this wasn’t the end. Her community was only a few months old and their numbers and reputation were growing all the time. She hadn’t come this far just to give up now.
Even as she and Danoph walked away from Gillen’s Jaw a plan began to form in the back of her mind. This had been a defeat, but it had also proven revealing in its own way about the challenges ahead.
The others joined her back on the ridge where they gathered to look down at the village. The crowd in the main street had dispersed but one figure was still standing in the middle of the street, their face turned towards Wren and the others. Even without embracing the Source she knew who it was. The raider stood alone and unafraid in defiance to send a clear message to her.
“What do we do now?” asked Kimme. “Are we really going to leave?”
“No. You and the others are going to go home. Danoph and I will join you soon.”
“Where are you going?”
Wren made herself smile. “To face the enemy.”
They walked back to where they’d tied up the horses and together she and Danoph watched the others ride away. When they were out of earshot he turned to face Wren.
“For someone who was just outwitted, you seem unusually calm.”
Around the world the Drassi were known as peerless warriors who were without fault, but even for the most skilled among her people, victory was not guaranteed. Drassi warriors had been defeated in the past, and there would be more in the future, but the way they maintained their reputation was to adapt.
“Every defeat is a chance to learn,” said Wren, quoting her grandfather. “Besides, the raiders revealed a lot more about themselves than they realised.”
“Such as?”
“I know a lot more about the tactics Boros is willing to use. I will not stoop to that level, but it doesn’t mean I have to keep thinking in straight lines. The normal response would be to retreat as we’ve been told, and perhaps mount an attack on Gillen’s Jaw, in force, at a later date. The last thing the raiders would expect us to do is follow them back to their camp.”
Danoph understood what she was planning and smiled. It wouldn’t make sense for just two of them to follow the raiders home. So far they’d been able to keep the location of their community a secret and Boros had done the same. Once she had an idea of where to find their camp, Wren could start making a different kind of plan.
“What else did they reveal?” asked Danoph, raising an eyebrow as Wren grinned at him.
“I know more about their leader as an individual. What they’re capable of and how far they’re willing to go to get what they want.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because we just met Boros,” said Wren.