Gerald motioned to her to move further to her left. Sherie nodded and ran over to the boulder that was a few yards away. Gerald sprinted out to the tree she had been behind a moment ago, and Thedo took the rock. All the men had arrows knocked in their bows now.
“Just some ale. You want a barrel? I'll give you one, hell I'll even give you two. I can't give you the women, though." Gerald yelled back.
“Two barrels and two women. I think I can live with that.” The voice laughed.
“You ain't gettin' the women," Gerald yelled.
“I’m sorry man, but I gotta have the woman with the bow. She’s got a spirit, and me Sorcerer needs it. If you don’t say yes, We’re gonna kill the lot of ya and take it anyway. Don’t die for nothin’,” the voice yelled, sounding a bit regretful.
Sherie was stunned. Out there, in those woods, they have a Wizard of some kind? “Fuck, I couldn’t blame Gerald if he traded me,” she thought. “There isn’t a hell of a lot we could do against a Wizard. Wait,” she thought, “Did he say I have a spirit attached to me? Spirits are what Wizards use to fuel their Magik, but how did I get one?” She wondered.
“Nice bluff, but I ain’t gonna fall for it!” Gerald yelled. “You can take the deal I offered, or you can come down here and try to take ‘em!”
Sherie drew her arrow to her cheek and waited. She couldn't see into the woods, but they would have a hard time seeing her as well since the moon was a sliver. The small fire was the main source of light and she was away from it now.
Boom! The lightning sliced through the woods, leaving a blinding trail along Sherie’s vision. She took aim at the source with the afterimage still burned onto her eye. She heard a cry from the woods after she loosed.
She took cover behind the rock face and saw that Gerald was down; the man had smoke rising from him, and he lay on the ground twitching. The tree he had been hiding behind was ablaze. Thedo couldn’t even raise his head, there were so many arrows flying by him.
Even with the lightning etched over her vision, she could see a pair of barbarians wearing skins jump down from above Halog on the other side. They dropped from the top of the carved wall. Sherie looked up just in time to see another pair of barbarians drop down from above.
Sherie dropped her bow and drew both of her short blades. One man yelled a battle cry when he landed, only to have it cut short by her. The other one tried to strike her with a poor man’s spear; it was a steel dagger tied onto a slender pole with leather cord. It was a far higher quality weapon than the spear she used to fight Kryss with when they had set Vox ablaze.
She blocked it, and the man tried stabbing her again. She wasn’t getting anywhere with him, not with his reach advantage which he knew well how to capitalize on. After she swatted his weapon aside for the tenth time he tried to stab her, she dropped the blade in her right hand, and tossed one of her daggers.
It found its mark right in the man's throat. The man didn't fall, though, he actually rushed her with the last of his strength. She barely twisted aside in time; it sliced open the side of her tunic and her body. She grabbed the makeshift spear's shaft with her right hand and chopped at the man's hand.
He let go of his spear before he fell to his knees. Then he tipped over with his vital fluids leaking from his mouth.
Sherie grabbed the short blade she’d dropped and sheathed them both.
She saw Baxin finish the barbarians that had fallen upon Halog, and cheered him quietly.
She was looking for her bow when she heard the galloping hooves. She looked up to see Brina riding her horse and coming at her. She could hear Baxin yelling, "Not that way!"
Sherie saw arrows slice through the air in Brina’s wake. She couldn’t believe that they had missed her horse with that many arrows. They must not have been prepared for her mad dash across the open area.
Brina slowed when she was by Sherie, and cried, "Get up here!" hoarsely. She could see a foot of wood sticking out of Brina's side.
There was no tack and harness on the animal and no saddle. Only the saddle blanket Sherie had put on her to keep the cold off. Sherie hopped up onto the animal and yelled, "Go, go, go!"
She put her arms around the woman as she put her heels to the animal, and it took off at a dead run.
Sherie didn’t look back.
* * *
When they had put the sounds of the life and death struggle behind them, Sherie told Brina to stop the horse. Slowly, the former slave brought the mare to a halt.
Sherie had felt the warm wetness along with the arrow shaft in Brina's side while they rode. She didn't stop her before now because she wasn't going to risk getting caught and raped by those primitives.
The sky was just beginning to lighten; if all of this hell hadn't broken loose, she would be waking Baxin right now for his watch. She wondered how the others fared; she was pretty sure that Gerald was dead, though.
Dead, and precooked for those savages.
Brina whimpered as she tried to bring her leg up so she could dismount. Sherie stopped her, by saying, “Just stay there, I don’t want to make it any worse by moving you.”
“Thanks,” Brina breathed raggedly.
Sherie could see the arrow sticking out by the dim morning light. This made the wound on her own left side look like nothing. A good dagger's worth of wood was sticking out of her. Sherie guessed that there could be that much wood in her. She looked through her pockets and found her pipe; she packed it as quick as she could by the dim light and lit it up. Under the flare of the match, she could see that Brina's blood wasn't flowing at least. Sherie pulled one of her four remaining daggers and cut open her shirt around the wound. She sucked on her pipe, making the coals glow bright enough to see a bit better.
“It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding now, that’s good,” she told her while she sucked on the pipe and thought about what to do next. “Can you take it out? It hurts… a lot.” Brina whispered hoarsely.
“If I try to take it out, I might yank your guts out with it," Sherie told her grimly. She pulled her whiskey skin off and said; "Drink it. Don't be shy, this is all I can do for you right now. We have to get moving, though," she said as she pushed herself up onto the horse's back. She wrapped her arms around Brina and took a hold of the horse's mane.
“I’ve got the horse. I can’t believe you got hit, and the horse didn’t. I think I’ll name her Lucky, what do you think?” She was truly worried about this woman that had literally saved her life, but she tried to push that aside and do what she had to, to increase both of their chances at living. She struck Lucky’s flanks to urge her forward.
Brina coughed and said, “Lucky is a good name.” She took a deep gulp of the whiskey, and said, “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
Sherie didn’t know what to say; so she defaulted to the truth.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
Brina wept quietly as they continued down the carved rock road.
* * *
Sherie was exhausted from riding, being short on sleep, and having no food. All of her food and her horse’s food had been in her saddle bags, which she had no chance to get before everything happened last night.
It was late in the afternoon. The only time they stopped had been so she could relieve herself. Brina told her she didn’t need to. This worried Sherie, but at least she wouldn’t have to try to get her back up onto the horse.
Sherie was pretty sure the horse wasn't feeling very lucky right now, though, since she hadn't been fed or watered all day. There was no way she could take her to the river without risking breaking her leg, the path was too steep and slick.
On the brighter side of things, it was nice and warm right now. Sherie chuckled.
“What is so funny?” Brina asked her weakly.
“I was just thinking about how warm it was. I’m not sure what’s funny about it, but I laughed anyway,” she told her.
“I'm cold," Brina said, shivering.
“I don’t know how you can be cold w
ith all the liquor you’ve drank, especially when the weather is like this,” Sherie replied. Her worry about this woman grew. She pulled her cloak off and wrapped it around Brina while they rode.
“Is that better?” Sherie asked.
“Not really,” she said.
They rode in silence except for the sounds of the river. Then Sherie heard the drums beating a steady marching rhythm in the distance.
She stopped the horse. Brina woke up and murmured, “Are we there yet?”
“No. Save your strength,” Sherie told her. She listened to the drums. They beat regularly; she was sure it was a Legion marching rhythm. There was either a contingent of Legionnaires or House Guard. For a group large enough to need drummers to hold their marching rhythm, they had to have medics.
“Hear the drums?” She asked Brina.
“Yes,” she rasped.
“That’s the sound of help,” Sherie told her.
“Okay.”
Sherie kicked her heels into Lucky. The horse obediently picked up the pace. Brina groaned painfully.
“Bear it, we need to get to them as soon as we can,” Sherie said sharply.
Lucky trotted quickly. Brina moaned in agony as the horse bounced them along. Sherie worried that this might make the wound worse, but the arrow had been in her more than half of the day already.
After more than an hour, Sherie saw the first Legion scouts. She slowed Lucky and raised her hands in the air before calling out to them; "Hail! Do you have a medic?"
A pair of them rode forward, one stopped and drew her bow. The man rode forward and yelled, “The other rider needs to show themselves!”
Sherie called back to him, “She’s wounded! She was hit by an arrow before dawn. She can barely move!”
“Fine then, you get off the horse and walk it forward woman!”
Sherie didn’t care for this. She knew it was to keep the soldiers safe, but it didn’t feel so good being on the other side of it. She slid off of the horse’s back. She kept one hand on Lucky to guide her forward, and the other she showed so they would know she held no weapon.
She saw the soldier using a speaking rock to call the situation in as she walked the horse forward. She wondered what he was reporting.
“That's far enough!" He said the soldier dismounted and walked forward. He had a hand on a dagger. "Leave the horse, walk forward, and get on your knees!" He commanded.
This was the part Sherie really didn't like. Putting herself completely at their mercy. It was time for her to get used to it, though, she wasn't a part of the Legion anymore. She walked forward and went to her knees slowly. She put her hands on her head just as he was about to command it. They did this so the archer could keep an eye on her, while he checked the horse.
Sherie couldn’t see what was happening behind her, but she knew what he saw when he exclaimed, “By the spirits!”
She could hear him calling it in now. She was gratified to hear the words “medic” and “immediately” in his report. She just hoped it would be in time to help Brina.
* * *
Sherie sat at the campfire beside the Legionnaires and drank her whiskey. Night had fallen now, and she had gotten food for herself, and for Lucky. The Corporal that talked to her was adamant that he couldn’t give her any supplies, but he did concede that she could fill her belly while she was here.
That suited her just fine. They took care of her wound. They told her it wasn’t too bad. She had already figured that out for herself.
She was still worried about Brina though. The medics were aghast at her condition, but they seemed to be doing their best. She hadn’t seen Brina since before her surgery. Soldiers had ushered Sherie away from the medical wagon more than an hour ago. Now all she could do was wait for morning.
After that, she had to give a report directly to the platoon’s Commander. Sherie unconsciously stood at attention, and he seemed to notice this.
“What is your name, and when did you serve?” He asked.
“I am Jirai Sonom, I served in the tenth platoon of Vox until last year sir.” She replied crisply. “I guess I served until more recently than that, but that’s none of your business,” she thought.
“Well, Miss Sonom. Lieutenant Briggs tells me that you said the wagons you were guarding were attacked by bandits. I need to know everything you saw,” he said.
Slowly, Sherie recounted the attack of the bandits, the Wizard that had struck down Gerald, and how Brina had saved her in the end. She had no illusions that everyone else with a brain took the other horses and bolted north so that they wouldn't have to travel through the archer's field of fire. She wondered if any had died besides Gerald.
“Thank you for the information, Miss Sonom. I would like for you to go to our tower, south of this pass here,” he told her.
“Um… why sir?” She asked, not caring much for this detour.
“That isn't important. Just accept that you must go and that you have no choice in the matter. Lieutenant!" He called.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Does he know I'm lying about my identity or age? Oh shit, oh fuck, oh damn!" The thoughts ran through her head like wind whipping up a torrent.
“Yes, sir?” The Lieutenant saluted him, fist to heart.
“Take this woman, and make certain she does not leave us. Arrange for a squad to escort her and her companion to the tower tomorrow, when we break camp. When you have arranged this, send the squad leader to me. Understood?” The Commander asked.
“Yes sir, I do! Come with me, woman." The Lieutenant grabbed her arm roughly. Sherie walked with him without resistance. The camp was huge since it was roughly twelve hundred soldiers camped along the roadway and into the woods alongside it. They had their horse lines set up in the woods, with a standing watch posted.
She was left at a fire with four men and a woman. One of the men was a Corporal. “It is your squad’s responsibility to make sure this woman doesn’t leave, do you understand?”
They stood up and saluted. “Yes sir, we do.”
“Good. Where is your squad leader?” He asked. The Corporal remained standing while the others sat. He saluted again and said, “I’m the Squad Leader, sir!”
“Come with me Mister,” the Lieutenant said.
The two men left, and she just sat down by the fire eyeing the other people there.
“What’s your deal?” One of the men asked her.
“The Commander wants me to go to the tower in the morning with you and tell them about the bandit raid my friend and I survived,” she said.
“Huh. Seems like a waste sending a squad out for something like that,” the woman said.
“Maybe the Commander suspects she did something, that she isn’t saying,” one of the men said.
Sherie was afraid of that. It wouldn't be an issue if she was just going to be interrogated by a regular Legionnaire, but what if they had a Legion Wizard interrogate her? She knew it was impossible to lie to a Wizard. She quickly took a drink of her whiskey. She was really glad that she'd filled two skins now.
They eyed her with suspicion. The woman asked her, “What’s in the skin, woman?”
“Whiskey. And piss off, you can’t have any,” Sherie said irritably.
“What, you think you can fight us all off?” she asked, standing up and stretching in her spotless scale armor.
“No, but I know I can kill you if you try to start shit with someone you don’t even know,” Sherie told her, watching her eyes for commitment.
“What the hell? Both of you just need to be calm and quit your bloody stupid behavior,” one of the men said.
The armored woman blustered, “She told me to piss off!”
“No one gives a shit what she told you. Grow a thicker skin, this isn’t a tavern Gren. If you start something here in camp, the Lieutenant will have your ass,” one man said, standing up.
The woman, Gren they had called her sat down heavily and glared at her. One of the other men promptly re-ignited her by saying, “
Now you two should kiss and make up!”
Gren promptly nailed the offending man with her helmet from across the fire pit. The soldier fell over with a grunt to the laughter of everyone, including Sherie.
“Alright, you earned a drink for that one, Gren,” she said with a laugh.
“Piss on your whiskey woman, and don’t you dare call me by name!” She yelled.
There was something of an "Ooooo" sound that issued from all the men here. Sherie stood up and looked down at this woman. Sherie knew she out-massed her by quite a bit and intended to take full advantage of it.
“I’m not going to tolerate your disrespect woman. If you want to fight me unarmed, I’ll be happy to show you your place.” Sherie undid her weapons belt and set her whiskey and water skins on top of it.
“Who the hell are you to demand respect from me, house-whore? I’m a woman in the Legion, do you know how hard it is to prove yourself as a woman here?” Gren yelled. Sherie could see some people at the other campfires were getting up to see what was happening.
“I do. I served too, bitch, and I’m still wearing my issued boots. I’ll bet you a gold coin that this is gonna end badly for you.” Sherie pulled out her coin. This was completely foolish, but she was too angry to care right now.
“Look at her Gren, she ain’t no housewife,” one of the men said in warning. Gren stopped where she was and looked at her. Sherie took the opportunity to egg her on. “What, don’t you make enough coin to cover that? Oh right, you’re only getting paid two silver marks a month, I forgot.”
The woman came forward, and said, "I don't care about the coin, I'm just gonna pound your face in."
By this time a circle had formed around the two women and the fire. One man came forward and put his hand on Gren's shoulder from behind. She went to elbow him and he stepped back quickly. "Calm, Gren. Everyone will pitch in coin, we're almost there. You have some silver?"
Sherie’s temper had calmed some by the time they had counted out the fifty silver it took to equal her gold coin. She knew this wasn’t the best thing in the world she could have done. But win or lose she had to put her money where her mouth was, or she would have to sleep with her only eye open tonight.
Fugitive: A Prequel to Spirit of Magik Page 8