by R D Wolfe
“Wha—?”
“What skills do you have?” she repeated the question sounding annoyed. “I heard you were found with a sword. Do you know how to use it? Can you use a bow? Can you track an animal? Do you know how to stay hidden from your enemies? I’m asking you whether you can be useful to me or not.”
“I still don’t understand. I mean, yes, I can use a sword. But the other stuff… I’ve built a fire once in the woods a few times, but…” Darien paused, realizing that he might be giving away too much. How could Darien know what this woman’s relationship to Totra-Dal was?
“But I’m not really sure. Like I told Totra-Dal, I don’t remember much from before I woke up. Flashes of memory. I do know how to use a sword though, I remember that for sure.” Darien refused to let his deception claim the one skill he had spent his life mastering.
“Hmm…”
The troll woman made no other sound. Darien was the one who finally broke the new silence.
“Why? I mean I’m a worker here. That can’t mean much to you.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she responded. “But I just lost a member of my raiding party on our last ride, shot through the chest by a caravan guard, and I need a replacement. My options are you, or someone Totra-Dal chooses from Kort’s party, and frankly, I don’t want any of that idiot’s friends riding with me anymore. I don’t trust any of them. If you’re up for it, I’m going to talk to Totra-Dal and try to get you assigned to my party. We have the last scheduled raid tomorrow before we leave. Think it over, and I’ll ask you in the morning before I go and talk to him.”
Darien stared back at her, his tired mind struggling to respond. He did not want to return to manual labor, but the thought of riding with her group wasn’t particularly pleasant either, given how the spot he was filling had been emptied.
“You’re too tired to answer me now,” she cut into his muddled thoughts. “Go get some sleep. Regardless of whether you go with me tomorrow or not, you need rest. That’s obvious just by looking at you.”
Darien thanked her and began walking in the direction of his tent, his aching body struggling to stay standing. A few steps away, he realized then that she had not once mentioned her name. Turning around, Darien began to ask what her name was, or at the very least what he should call her, but she was gone. He looked around but couldn’t find any sign of her against the backdrop of the forest.
Deciding he would deal with it, and her question, in the morning, Darien returned to his tent. Thankfully, he had left his bedroll open and ready from the night before. Having no regard for his cleanliness, he collapsed on his bedroll, not even bothering to climb between the layers.
Chapter 9: The Raid
Darien woke up earlier than most of the camp. He stretched out gingerly, muscles still aching from the labor of the previous day. Slowly getting to his feet, Darien attempted some basic stretches to loosen up. Feeling a bit better in his joints and extremities, he picked up his pack and found his way to a nearby stream. Being careful to stay within sight of the camp so that no one would think he was trying to leave, he stepped behind a tree. Darien stripped to his underwear and stepped quickly out from behind the tree, his dirty clothes crumpled in his hands.
The stream was cold, but it helped to thrust the rest of the sleep away from his lethargic mind. He went about washing his clothes, getting as much of the grime out as the cool water allowed. When he was satisfied, Darien set them on a rock that jutted from the bottom of the bubbling water. Once he was sure they wouldn’t get carried off by the current, he set about rinsing himself off, submerging his head in the crisp, clear water, and tousling his hair, shaking loose any remnant of debris that had been caught in it. He then went about rinsing the rest of his body and swishing water around in his mouth as he had when he was traveling that first night with the centaurs. He felt a pang of sadness thinking of them. He hoped they had safely made their way to the city. Maybe they were with the others, looking for him by now.
After a few more minutes in the stream, he climbed on the gravel bank and shook as much water as he could from his body. Lacking a towel, this was the best he could do. Once he was dry enough, he went back around the back side of the tree where his pack lay and quickly changed into his secondary pair of clothes that the centaurs had given him and went back to his tent. The grey-skinned woman was waiting for him, arms crossed, leaning against a moderately-sized tree.
Darien was able to see more of her this time. She reminded him oddly of Chorrun, but in a feminine way. Her face was soft and her eyes, though black, seemed to pierce into Darien. She wore leather armor, rigid enough to be protective, but light enough to let her move smoothly and quietly. A short sword was tied at her waist and a bow sat unstrung across her back, sitting in the quiver of arrows.
“I’ve talked with Totra-Dal, he has given his permission for you to ride with us today. Apparently, you made quite the impression. I expected him to reject me outright, but he was eager for the idea.” She eyed at him quizzically. “Why do you think that is?”
“I have no idea,” Darien shrugged. “All we did was have dinner and I convinced him to not let Kort kill me. He seemed to like it. I thought you were going to ask me first?”
“You weren’t here when I came to ask, so I decided for you.” Stepping forward, Darien noticed that she was slightly shorter than he was and had to look up at him while she spoke.
“Well, you’re part of my raiding party now,” she said sternly. “That means you’ll do as I say. Any stupid moves, any attempt to run away, trying to give away our position, anything other than full-throated obedience and loyalty, and I’ll do to you what Kort only wishes he could. Got it?”
The harshness of her words ran counter to the tone she used. This was a warning, threat, and promise of death all mixed into one, but she said it as gently as though she had asked Darien what his name was. Jolting, he remembered something from the night before.
“Yeah, I understand,” Darien paused a moment to be sure she was satisfied by his answer. “By the way, I never got your name last night.”
“Evatra.”
Darien bowed his head slightly. “I give you my word that I won’t do anything to harm you, your mission, or anyone that rides with us but…” An eyebrow rose on Evatra’s angular face as he spoke. “Well, I’ve never raided anyone before. I can use a sword, and I’m good at it, but raiding isn’t really my… style.”
“Lucky for you, you won’t need to do any battle today. You’re just our pack mule and a spare set of hands. Totra-Dal gave me permission to take you along and give you a horse, but you’re a fool if you thought I would arm you on only your second day here and your first day under my command.”
Darien felt his cheeks go red at the rebuke, but kept his temper in check, remaining silent.
“We leave in a few minutes. Grab some food and head to the stalls. You’ll find a horse ready for you. Be sure to fill your water flask. I don’t need you dying of thirst on your first raid.”
Evatra headed towards the stalls that Darien had spent the previous day cleaning. He quickly got to work preparing his pack, though there wasn’t much to prepare. Hanging his clothes over the top of his tent to dry, he set off to get some food. There was an assortment of dried meats, fruits, and nuts laid out on a large table that various marauders were taking from. Darien grabbed a few of the things he recognized, putting a couple in his pack for later, and made his way to the stalls He found his new steed, a palomino horse, smaller and lighter than the one he had ridden with Chorrun and the others. Mounting it and turning it toward Evatra, who sat atop a black horse, he heard her cry out over the sounds of the camp, now awake.
“Let’s go!” Evatra cried, spurring her horse forward.
As they trotted out of the forest, Darien bounced around uncomfortably. Watching the other riders, he noticed them alternating a standing and sitting position. He tried with some success to mimic their movements but couldn’t quite perfect the rhythm.
After some time, they came out into the open air and stopped at the base of a small hill. Evatra sent another of the riders, a goblin who Evatra had called Drack, to the top to scout the area. Pulling out a telescope, Drack quickly scanned the surroundings before coming back down, speaking in hushed tones to Evatra. She considered their conversation for a few seconds before deciding, pointing them along the edge of the forest.
The group rode on. Darien looked up, and noticed the moon chasing the sun across the sky. This moon was different than the one he had seen before. It was smaller, reflecting a slightly orange tint as opposed to the off-white of its counterpart, and it appeared to have rings around it. Darien stared up at this other alien moon for several minutes before bringing his attention back down to the landscape around them.
Not much had changed. They still followed the edge of the forest, and the hills around them obscured their view of the landscape. Periodically, Drack would mount another hill and look around before giving another report to Evatra, who would pause a moment before deciding their next heading. This went on for several hours, and Darien began wondering if they would be turning back, when on his next foray up a hill, Drack called Evatra up to his vantage point. She looked through the spyglass. They exchanged a wordless glance before returning down the hill. Evatra called on the group to surround her.
“We have something up ahead, but it doesn’t look good,” she said, an odd note in her voice. “There’s a caravan, looks like it was headed east off any of the main roads.”
The group began to murmur excitedly. After a day of riding, they would finally have something to break the monotony.
“Don’t get too excited, it looks like they’ve already been raided. We’re going to go scout it, but whoever attacked it could still be in the area. Keep your wits about you. Ride on. Drack, take lead.” Evatra pointed at Drack, who moved to follow the orders.
The company of riders began to move, angling their movements away from the main body of the forest and out amongst the rolling hills. As the rest of the group rode out in front of Darien, Evatra came riding up next to him.
“Look, you’re going to be pretty useless here,” she said. “You don’t know what to look for, and you definitely don’t know what you’re dealing with, so stay back, and pay attention. You may be pretty useless to me right now, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you ended on your first raid.”
“What do you think is gonna happen?” Darien asked, feeling a tinge of fear. He had never been in any actual danger before. Sure, the arena back at The Academy had its dangers, but no one had ever died while sparring.
“Likely nothing, but there’s no way to know. The group who attacked the caravan probably moved off by now. But if what I saw back there on that hill was any indication, I’ve never seen an attack like this before.” Evatra paused, glancing at the group in front of them. “We’re not exactly the most civilized people in Olympus, but this… this isn’t anything I’ve seen before. Just—” her voice stalled for the briefest of moments. “Just don’t do anything stupid, and if you see anything, yell.”
Darien nodded, curious about her pause, but kept riding on.
Evatra rode silently beside him until they came into a flat area. Groves of trees scattered through the golden sheen of the grasses like tufts of hair, growing in uneven patches. Eventually, Darien could see a small column of smoke rising into the air. Whatever was burning had an acrid smell that grew more intense as they approached the site. The group lined themselves around the terrifying scene of a scattered caravan.
Mangled bodies were strewn about, expressions of pain warping their faces. Each body had been somehow desecrated. Horses lay with numerous black-feathered arrows sticking out of them in all directions. In one horse, Darien counted at least ten arrows. The bodies were likewise desecrated. Some had limbs contorted at odd angles, and some were missing. Darien leaned over the side of his saddle, and what little contents his stomach held spilled over the side of his horse and onto the ground. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he sat up and looked around. No one had seemed to notice. They all held expressions reflecting the nature of the grisly sight. The smell that Darien had noticed came from a smoldering wagon. Inside, he could just see the outline of a figure, lying motionless.
“Alright,” Evatra called out, “let’s go through everything, see if we can find anything useful. Darien, Nardo, and Bertryn, make a perimeter and keep an eye out for any movement from beyond this… just yell if you see anything.”
Darien followed the other two, both trolls, and was directed to keep watch back the way they had come. The rest of the party got to work digging through the remnants of the caravan. Before long, a pile of scorched armor and a smaller pile of weapons sat just behind him. Evatra came over and began to dig through the piles her team was making, sifting around for anything valuable. The things she found were placed in another, even smaller pile. Everything else was aggregated into a growing mound, which he guessed would be left behind.
As the work went on, Darien kept his attention pointed outward, scanning the surrounding forest lines every few minutes. He thought he had seen movement in the trees a few times but couldn’t resolve anything which he could warrant calling the others’ attention. He didn’t want to be the new guy who cried wolf, when in all likelihood, it was nothing but a bird.
“Darien come give me a hand,” Evatra called. She was trying to move a chest that was clearly too heavy for to move alone.
Darien dismounted and walked over, feeling the unpleasant soreness that came from being saddled for the majority of the day. Trying not to let Evatra see him complain about the ache in his legs, he walked over and lifted one side of the chest, moving it away from the piles. Once they could set it down, Evatra walked to the front, and using her sword hilt, beat at the lock several times. Finding no success, she walked over to the pile of weapons, finding a particularly sturdy broadsword. She leveraged it against the chest and was finally able to pry the bolt of the lock open, letting it fall to the ground.
Darien took a step back as she lifted open the chest to reveal a small pile of papers and other stationery. Moving that aside, Darien gasped as he saw a small pile of gold and glittering gemstones set into jewelry. Necklaces, rings, brooches, and more. Darien expected Evatra to be pleased, but instead she just looked confused.
“What’s wrong?” Darien asked. “I thought you’d be happy to find something like this.”
“Why would they leave this behind?” she whispered, not looking up.
Darien paused, looking down at the chest and then back up at Evatra. “Maybe they didn’t know it was here?”
“It was sitting at the edge of the burning wagon,” Evatra scanned the remnants of the caravan. “They knew it was here, they just chose to ignore it. That doesn’t make any—”
Before Darien could even think to move, he saw a steely expression come over Evatra’s face, before being thrown to the ground.
“Riders!” Evatra cried from the ground. He heard the pounding of hoofbeats rush past them, the twang of taught bowstrings reverberating through the air.
“Stay down!” Evatra commanded, rushing off towards her horse.
Springing into action, she crossed the distance quickly, gracefully arcing her leg onto the horse’s back, turning towards the enemy riders. Pulling the bow from her back which she had strung before moving into the camp. She fired rapidly into the group that had just ridden past her. Evatra’s horse moved in sync with her body and legs. Darien stared in awe at the coordination between her and the animal before dragging himself behind the chest they had forced open, placing it between him and the ensuing skirmish taking place just beyond. He heard cries of pain, yells of anger, and the general clamor of battle.
Unwilling to simply hide, he peeked around the end of the chest. Evatra had discarded her bow and run straight into the battle. She exchanged blows with a rider who was nearly twice her size, black armor covering his entire body. His face was obscured by a solid metal helme
t. The rider was clearly stronger than Evatra, but she had the advantage of speed.
With some deft sword work she worked her way past the brute’s defenses and thrust her slim blade through a gap in his guard, sending him toppling from his horse. Rearing, the horse let out a loud cry and galloped out of the perimeter, spilling the body of its rider onto the ground, making an audible thud as it hit. Everywhere Darien looked, he saw the same sight: members of his company engaged in battle with their attackers. Darien wasn’t able to determine at this point which side had the upper hand, but he knew he couldn’t just sit idly and watch people die.
Glancing back to where he had been keeping watch, Darien examined the pile of armor and weapons from afar. There was no way he could find armor that would fit him quickly enough; he would have to fight without it. The weapons, on the other hand…
Taking a few steadying breaths, Darien crawled towards the mound of equipment. Halfway there, one of their attackers noticed him in the grass. Their eyes met, and the hulking beast turned towards him. The black clad monster stepped off his horse, and drew his sword, eyes never leaving Darien’s. He raised his curved blade above his head, and released a blood curdling battle cry, running to where Darien sat in paralyzed panic.
Scrambling to his feet as fast as he could, Darien ran to the pile of swords, daggers, bows, and axes, quickly grabbing at the weapons, deciding which he could use. Feeling his hand wrap around the cool metal of a sword, he pulled.
Nothing moved.
Cursing, Darien pulled harder, but it wouldn’t give way. The black beast was nearly to him now. He reached down again, grabbing the first thing he could—a lance. No longer thinking, he raised it, seeing the behemoth of a man running directly at him before shutting his eyes, preparing for the blow he knew was coming. He felt the ground thunder, the lance lurch, then… nothing.
Opening his eyes, Darien saw that he had raised the lance just in time and, unable to stop his momentum, his attacker slumped over, expressionless, the lance protruding from his chest. Darien stared in shock for a moment. He had just taken someone’s life. Steeling himself against the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm him, Darien pushed the lance aside. The weapon and its victim clattered to the ground, revealing the battle progressing just beyond. There had only been ten riders, but they had clearly overwhelmed the smaller trolls and goblins of the raiding party. Darien saw only nine of the riders he had come with still engaged in the battle. He had felled one of the warriors, Evatra another, which left eight trading blows with the marauders in the camp.