by Brandon Barr
“Yes M’lord,” said Jax.
Justen shot Jax a long, humorless glare before finally speaking. “Here’s what I’m thinking: we break up into groups of two, go out to the village squares, start spreading the news that we’re forming a resistance group. I think we have two selling points. First, I think we need to let them in on Payetta. It’s time they found out a mage lives amongst them.”
“How’s that going to go over well?” said Jax. “They think all mages are evil, and they already don’t like her.” He frowned, “Sorry, Payetta, it’s the truth.”
“So they don’t like me speaking my mind,” smirked Payetta. “They’re as thin-skinned as mice and can’t handle my smartass tongue. I blame it all on my upbringing. My tongue and my temper.”
“Don’t tell them about her magic,” said Daeken. “Not yet. They need to fight for the right reasons. Not because we’re going to win with some trick, but because they want to stand up against men who killed friends and neighbors to the south, stole land, raped, and pillaged. Men who will soon be coming to do that to them and their own families whether they stay in North Meadow or run. We tell them that if they don’t make their stand now, Titannus and his raiders will find them, and by then, it will be too late, for they will be weak and spread out. Make it known that the time to fight is here, now, while we are still together, strong and united. We tell them it’s time to put Titannus to rest.”
The room vibrated with the powerful words for several moments before Jax said softly, “Damn. Did somebody write that down?”
Old Ferren stood, his chair scraping against the wood floor. “That’s what they need to hear,” he growled excitedly. “That’s the truth of it!”
“Then it’s settled,” said Justen. “We go out to the villages in groups of two or three. Give them the call to fight. Tell them we meet before sundown here, at Ferren’s house.”
“You boys have fun,” said Payetta, her voice dark with annoyance. “I’ll not ruin your chances with my smartass tongue.”
Justen glanced sideways at his wife. It was not like her to back out of anything. He certainly didn’t think she cared about beating some of the farmers up with a few words. It must be something Daeken had said, or her irritation over his ill-timed laughter. Either way, her pride had been hurt.
“We need you, darling,” said Justen. “I’m sure you can control yourself,” he crooned in a humorous tone.
“No, I don’t think I can.” She stood. “I’ll meet you all back here tonight. I look forward to seeing how many farmers you wrangle up.”
She walked over to the door and left without glancing back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Daeken gazed out at the ornately crafted buildings of Sumarice in wonder as Justen led him down the thin dirt street. Shepherd rode on his back, quiet as usual. He seemed to be enjoying his perch as he squinted forward, chin resting on Daeken’s shoulder. Throngs of people hung about outside the buildings speaking in low voices. The mood was heavy, and Daeken sensed in them a desperate need of direction and hope.
There were six buildings total in the tiny village, each separated by a small field occupied by an assortment of wooden booths. Most of the merchants in the flimsily erected structures were selling various crops or types of meat, and a handful had animals tied up for sale. There was also a furniture booth and another stall with a mix of tanned hides and anything and everything you could make out of leather—shoes, rugs, curtains, strings and ties, horse equipment and children’s toys. The fact that there were such villages, North and South, fanned the fire in Daeken’s heart.
He longed to see places like this spread across the land. It was in communities like these that life and peace could be found. If his long trek from the ashes of his old life to this marvelous discovery of the Meadowlands taught him anything, it was that the good and beautiful places, and the people that lived there, had to be protected at all costs.
Justen stopped and shouted above the hum of voices. “I’ve come with news about South Meadow!”
It was as if food had been offered to the starving masses, and instantly everyone milling about the street hurried over to him and Justen, gathering in a large circle around them. Daeken looked over the faces, spotting dozens of capable men he’d like to see fight at his side.
Justen waited as the news of his announcement reached the outskirts of the little street. “As you know, South Meadow was attacked yesterday. What you haven’t heard is that our Heroes Brigade, with the help of this man, took out fifteen of the raiders. It wasn’t without cost though, we lost Kirk, the miller’s apprentice.” Justen paused, as if paying respect with a moment of silence to let the news sink in.
“I’ve come here today to ask for help. South Meadow is under siege. Yesterday, Hargstead was surrounded, and whether its gate has held through the night, I can’t say, but we must come together and fight. Are there any men or women willing to help us retake South Meadow?”
There was but a moment’s pause before Daeken heard a combative voice call out from the crowd. “I see you’ve come without your fire-tongued wife. Where is the fearless leader?”
Daeken looked the man over. He had a stout frame and a rugged face that had a large burn mark under his right eye.
“Glad you’re here, Aryn,” replied Justen calmly. “She stayed home. Considering her history with everyone, it’s probably for the best.”
Another man shouted, “Last time she came here she called us all piglet pissers.”
A woman holding a baby in her arms yelled out, “She told all the women to grow balls not babies! And the time before that, she…she,” the woman blushed, “she made some improper reference about sexual positions!”
Daeken could only shake his head. Were they going to let a few insults stop them from saving their own farms? “Forget the words,” said Daeken, “Are you so offended that you won’t take up the fight to free your land?”
The crowd’s eyes fell heavy upon him. He was a stranger they didn’t yet trust.
“That sounds like my wife,” related Justen, with a note of humor. “I’ll say this—if you could have heard her father speak, you’d understand how wildly Payetta has improved upon his vocabulary. For the better that is. But let’s put the past in the past for the sake of dealing with what’s at hand. She’s not here, and you’ll receive no insults from me.”
“And where is Payetta?” asked Aryn. “As the leader of your group, if she’s going to ask us to risk our lives following her, she needs to tell us why we should.”
Justen gave a slow nod. “She didn’t want her temper or her rhetoric to get in the way of your decision to join the fight.”
Aryn’s chin lifted an inch. “I might respect that if we weren’t talking about fighting a mage and his entire army.”
Daeken was left frowning over the exchange. He knew Payetta’s powers gave her an elevated position in the Heroes Brigade, but was she the one calling all the shots? He leaned in towards Justen and whispered, “Payetta’s not the leader of the Brigade, is she?”
“Yes and no,” whispered Justen. “But mostly yes.”
Daeken sighed. He had nothing against a woman being in charge, but a girl of eighteen? And not just any girl, one with an attitude as big as a damn mountain. It wasn’t his place to change or fix things. Maybe she did a decent job taking charge—he hadn’t been around long enough to know if she had what it took to lead—but he did know he wasn’t going to put up with any crap from her. He walked a straight line and so did his mouth. As his grandmother always told him, Why follow someone through a field of horse pucky when you know a way around it? If you don’t speak up, the horse shit you get into is your own fault.
Truer words were seldom spoken, thought Daeken.
He looked straight at Aryn. “We’re asking you to join and fight because it’s the right thing to do.”
Aryn considered the words for a moment, his eyes evaluating Daeken. “Have you considered that the right thing to do might be to drop o
ur pride and run?” Aryn pointed to the north. “There’s hope out in that direction. Many of us have families to care for. Life is a precious thing, not something to throw away lightly. Certainly not over a vain notion of suicidal heroism. There’s plenty of land north of here. I for one plan to leave and find a new place to put roots down for my farm and smithy. Unless you can convince me there’s a good reason to stay and fight, the right thing to do seems clear.”
Daeken could tell instantly Aryn was an honest and good man. He valued his family, and he viewed his own life in the context of those who needed him. Aryn’s plan to go north was logical to a point.
“I used to think as you did,” replied Daeken. “My life was too valuable to risk joining the resistance movements in my land to go fight against mages and raiders, or the drooling raver packs or the clans of brutals that terrorized the Boundary Lands. For years there were men and women who tried to gather large groups to defend against the mages. Some even suggested we should attack first, before they grew too strong. I paid them little attention because my life was secure and good, and my wife and I wanted a family and we had our farm to keep us busy.”
Daeken took Shepherd off his back and set him on the ground. “Some of you might think this boy is mine. He isn’t. My wife and I had a child and for five years we cherished him. We worked our farm, we lived in peace. And then the mage and his forces came while I was off hunting. When I returned, my town had been burned to the ground. My farmstead a smoldering ash heap with the charred remains of the woman I loved inside. Then I found my son’s corpse. He was lying in the trampled fields behind the ruins of our home.
“Since that day I’ve been traveling west, searching for another place to call home. I tried to go to the other farmlands nearby, only to discover they had all fallen that same day. The mages are on the move under the direction of a man called Krolan. I suspect even your mages here bow the knee to him. Titannus. Zarith Smith. It’s my guess they represent his regional power in your land. For months I’ve traveled west, and I’ve seen the devastation. Krolan is expanding his empire. If you go North, how long will your peace last? Will you wake up in five years to see more raiders storming toward your home, or smashing down your door in the middle of the night?
“Our greatest hope is to band together now, while we are still strong. If you disperse, and your numbers thin out over the land, are the mages going to leave you alone? Will they ever? The greatest warrior our land ever knew once said, ‘We are the barrier between what's out there and civilization.’ That man was Terry Henry Walton, a hero who lived before the brutals came to exist. A man who it is said was built like an ox—a head taller than the tallest man, and who when faced with injustice could fight harder and fiercer than any man alive. I am a descendant of that man, and his blood runs through my veins, but to my shame, I was once eager to avoid a fight for fear of what I could lose. Now I fear what I and others will lose if I don’t take a stand. I ask you now, will you fight? Will you band together to drive this evil out of the Meadowlands?”
No one spoke for a time, as if waiting for Daeken to continue. Justen put his hand on Daeken’s shoulder and shouted, “If you want to stand with us against Titannus, meet tonight outside Ferren’s home at dusk. I don’t think the mage and his soldiers expect a fight. They’re counting on fear winning the day, and I for one am eager to disappoint them.”
“What of weapons for the fight?” called a scruffy faced young farmer.
“Gather what you have—a sickle or scythe would be sufficient, or an ax—whatever you can find that’s sharp.”
“I’ll be there," said the scruffy faced farmer.
“And I,” said another man beside him.
Daeken noted several heads bobbing in agreement, eyes distant, as if in thought of what weapon they might take.
The crowd slowly began to disperse and discussions broke out, some in whispers, some turning to shouting and arguments.
Daeken put his hand on Shepherd’s head. His heart grew heavy with the thought of what he needed to do next. What he must do. It was best for the boy. “One last thing!” he shouted. “This boy lost his mother in South Meadow. Can anyone offer him their home?”
***
“What do you think about Payetta,” asked Justen, slightly concerned by Daeken’s comment earlier. Clearly he’d been surprised when he found out she was leading the Heroes Brigade. “She’s rough around the edges, I’ll admit that. And she can be as mean as a porcupine with a quill up its you-know-what, but I believe her power comes with a divine purpose.”
Daeken gave him a strange look as they followed the dirt path out of town. “Let me get this straight. She’s how old again?”
“Eighteen.”
“And you’re how old?
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in the fall.”
“And you’ve been married how long?”
“Four years.”
Daeken’s entire face was a frown. “I want to know what madman married two kids off at that age?”
“Well,” responded Justen slowly. “I suppose the answer is, I did. Or more accurately, God did.”
Daeken’s eyebrows shot up, forming a swarm of wrinkles across his forehead. “You mean you…?” his words trailed off and one eyebrow spiked.
“My father was a preacher, so I knew the words. I wanted Payetta and I to have God’s blessing.”
“I see,” replied Daeken, his lips stretching into a wide grin. “You’re a good man Justen, and I doubt that will be the last time you’ll hear me say that. I have nothing against your wife. In more than one way she reminds me of myself when I was her age. I could have matched her stubbornness head to head. I have to admit though, I’m confused why she’s the one leading the brigade when it’s made up of a group of older, and presumably, wiser men.”
Justen understood why Daeken would think it strange. A few more weeks around Payetta and he would understand better. “We formed the Brigade, Payetta and I, but really it was her idea. She’s the one who wanted to gather Meadowlanders together to fight Titannus. It was her vision and her passion that stirred the men we have to join with us. I’m not sure how much of her charisma comes from her…strong personality, or from her power over magic, but it’s both of those things that make people pay attention. The farmers only know half of her. When they see her magic, I believe they’ll see that our side is not as weak as they think. Either that or they’ll think she’s a monster.”
Daeken’s strong hand came down on his shoulder and Justen felt warmth in the man’s purple-flecked eyes. “You’re a good man, Justen. You are wise beyond your age and more level headed than I was even at thirty-years-old. Just keep yourself alive until Payetta grows out of a few things. She needs you, and you need to speak up when she does, because you married a young woman who could change the world. As her husband, you play a vital role in that future.”
Justen nodded in awe of Daeken. The man’s words were the exact vision he had of his own life. Payetta, the judge of God, just like his father read of in the old tome. And Justen’s own role as her husband…he was to protect her, and guide her when necessary.
For just as Daeken had said, Payetta was a woman who could change the world.
“I’m glad you found us here,” proclaimed Justen. “Our valley needs a man like you. We’re too soft.”
“It’s about balance,” responded Daeken. “Maybe I was sent here for a reason, too. Providence often has a way of making everyone uncomfortable sooner or later.” Daeken looked east. “I want to have a word with your wife, if that’s all right with you?”
“Have as many words as you like,” smirked Justen, “but here’s a tip. If she gets really mad, don’t get too close to the skunk.”
“She’d do that to me?”
Justen frowned in thought. “Maybe a better piece of advice would be this: Don’t get her really mad.”
“In that case, have a bath drawn for me at Ferren’s house. I’m going to reek when I return.”
&nb
sp; Justen laughed, but inwardly he felt concern. Though he’d come to respect this man, he worried about what he might say to Payetta. After her run-in with Titannus and losing Kirk, her emotions were as volatile as a summer storm. Whatever wisdom Daeken might give her, he still feared a little for his wife. Most of the time she held her true emotions deep inside, but the past few days there’d been a crack in her defenses. If Daeken wasn’t careful, he could push her emotionally into unchartered territory.
A strong urge to protect his wife surged in his chest as he watched Daeken depart east toward the distant woods where Honey Hideout lay. Justen wanted to trust that he’d say the right things, but as much as he liked what he saw of the man, he still didn’t know him.
To know someone took more than a couple of days.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Payetta stroked the back of She Grunts, stopping with each stroke to scratch roughly at the base of her tail. Her skunk stood on the lip of an old stone hearth at one of the ruins close to Honey Hideout.
She Grunts chortled and smacked her lips as Payetta dug her nails into all the best scratching spots. Three other creatures stood obediently before them. A sparrow, a bull elk, and a lynx.
She’d never controlled three animals at once, especially maintaining control of the sleek predatory cat while managing the other two. Something inside her had switched on, driving her magic skills to leap forward in a way that shocked her.
What exactly it was that expanded her capabilities was a mystery, but she sensed it had to do with her ravenous desire to see Titannus dead at her own hands. Especially now, after he’d made a fool of her. The slightest memory of her confrontation with the mage caused her face and neck to burn red hot.
Perched on the back of the elk was the lynx, and on the elk’s massive antlers was the sparrow.
Payetta was split between each of the three and herself. It was as if her capacity to hold the animals had more than doubled. She didn’t fully understand how, but she knew it was connected to how she felt inside. Embarrassment at her failure to match Titannus’s skill. Anger and grief over Kirk’s death. Frustration and annoyance at her being called out by the newcomer in front of the entire Heroes Brigade.