KGWrites

Iona

Oakworth, Hunter’s Haven Forest, Northern Realm of Aldiron

The winter winds had mercifully decided to take a break as the group trudged forwards along the thin track. Iona walked at their head, taking her turn at the front. Her fingertips impatiently tapped on the pommel of her sword as she walked, taking in the same surroundings they’d seen for the past three days. Forest on the right, fields on the left, path in front and behind. Hour after hour. Day after day.

Iona’s stomach twisted and grumbled. That morning at breakfast they’d eaten the last of the mutton they’d gotten from the ambushed caravan. But that had been hours ago, and the now familiar pangs of hunger were beginning to set in.

As she walked, Iona’s hand went to her belt, absently touching the stuffed bear she had picked up at the ambush site. Ignoring the hunger beginning to pull at her, Iona instead closed her eyes and recalled the silent promise she had made the people she’d laid to rest in the cart. No more.

The trail of the soldiers that had ambushed the caravan was still leading ahead of them, and for the past few hours, it had been getting fresher. At least, according to Alyx, it had been getting fresher, Iona wasn’t sure how the woman was able to tell from footprints in mud, but she wasn’t about to disagree either.  

The others had all put themselves solidly on alert, heads constantly turning as they watched the treeline and the horizon. Even the slightest change in sounds from the forest had James drawing his bow. Everyone had even strapped on their full armour for the first time since Aldiron’s fall.

Iona didn’t share their anxiety. Instead, she had spent the past few hours practically wishing for the murderers to try and attack them. Her sword arm felt almost itchy as she shifted it again, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. She had promised their victims justice, she would deliver it.

Which meant when she heard the sounds of people screaming echoing across the forest from around a bend a short way ahead, she immediately drew her sword and moved into a run.

“Iona!” She heard Alyx’s voice from behind her, followed by the woman swearing and her heavy footfalls as she hurried to follow. She didn’t slow, she knew that Alyx and the others would try and stop her, like they had the last time. But she’d made a promise.

Rounding the bend Iona saw that a short distance away, backed up against the forest, was a small hamlet of roughly forty buildings. The path led towards it, passing by a lumber mill and crossing a small river next to it over a small bridge. The river fed a still turning water wheel that drove saws and machinery inside the mill. Logs were piled up around the building and a raft was docked, still loaded with logs carried from further upstream.

The town itself was a wide space of homes around a central square of larger communal buildings. Paths rose up from the town centre into the forest, following the little river. On the other side of town, wide fields and animal pens stretched out from scattered farmhouses.

Mentally, Iona ran quickly through the many maps of the kingdom she had been forced to study growing up. This must be Oakworth, a lumber and farming town that provided lumber used in construction within the kingdom.

But it wasn’t as peaceful nor quiet as a town like that should be. Instead, smoke rose from a few of the buildings, and Iona could even make out the orange licks of fires building up from inside some of them. The distant figures of people scattered between the burning buildings, fleeing in fear from whatever had started the fires.

It didn’t take Iona more than a second to spot the source.

Legionnaires of Aldiron, their armour showing signs of rust and damage from the cold and the once rich green cloth of their tunics and tabards stained near black with mud and blood, stalked through the village, bearing down on the fleeing people like predators with wounded prey. Iona felt cold dread and rage replace the hunger in the pit of her chest as she saw their weapons carve bloody streaks through the villagers.

At the near side of the bridge to her, their backs to the road, were two more legionnaires, one a black-haired woman and the other a tall olive-skinned man. At their feet was a pile of crates and bags. The spoils of their raids. Iona thought to herself as she continued to rush forwards. The two held longbows and chatted back and forth to one another, keeping watch on the raid as they guarded their supplies.

But they remained entirely unaware of the princess bearing down on them from behind, her flaming orange hair flowing behind her in a blaze of vengeance and rage.

No more.

Iona collided with the man with a snarl, knocking him to the ground with a grunt and causing the arrow he had half drawn on his bow to slip from his grasp.

Not wasting a second, Iona planted her knee on his back and stabbed downwards with her sword, the blade punching deep into his neck above the collar of his armour. With a gurgle and splash of hot red blood across her hand, he fell still. Iona though kept rolling forwards, carrying the momentum of her movement into a roll that brought her back to her feet.

And staring straight down the arrow of the dark-haired woman’s bow.

The legionnaire gave her a sick smile, her eyes lit up with anticipation as she drew back the bowstring.

Iona froze, able only to wait for the end.

Then a rose of scarlet bloomed on the woman’s shoulder as a blue-feathered arrow pierced deep into her back, spinning her around and causing her arrow to whistle past Iona’s ear, missing by mere millimetres.

The legionnaire completed her spin, her mouth opening to cry out in pain, when one of Alyx’s throwing axes buried itself deep in her skull with a wet crunch. The force of the blow took the legionnaire off her feet and slammed her down hard into the bags she had been guarding.

Panting hard, Iona rose to her feet again, prepared to sprint across the bridge and towards the enemy beyond.

But just as quickly as she had risen, she was driven off her feet and into the ground as Alyx tackled her down. Her sword dropped from her grip and her left arm was pinned to her side.

“What are you doing? Get off me!” Iona growled at her, pushing with her free hand at the woman, but Alyx held strong, unwilling to release her.

“What am I doing? What the fuck was that?” Alyx replied through gritted teeth, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper as she glared at Iona.

“We need to help!” Iona spat back, kicking her leg up into Alyx’s chest and pushing her off. Alyx sprawled back in the mud with a hiss of lost breath. Iona rolled in the dirt onto her stomach, getting her hands under herself and beginning to push upwards.

And then all her muscles froze into immovable iron and a boot fell into view. Straining, Iona found that the only thing she could do was lift her head to see the boot’s owner. All her other muscles were completely rigid, held like she was beneath the weight of a mountain.

Meghan Whiteoak stood above her, one hand reached out and splayed open in the air above her, like she was pushing down on Iona. Pale white light shone from within the sleeve of her furred coat. Iona growled at her in anger, pushing against someone like Alyx, a physical opponent, she could manage. But Meghan had caught her off guard, and she hadn’t had enough to time to raise any of her own magical defences to stop the spell that the sorceress had cast on her. Not that I’d have the energy to hold her back anyway.

“We need to be smarter than this.” Meghan told her, her voice stern and commanding, like it was whenever she taught Iona magic. Meghan’s head then turned to look towards something Iona couldn’t see, off to her left somewhere.

“No-one’s spotted us yet.” James’ voice came back, replying to Meghan’s silent question. “But we need to get to cover.”

“The river dock, by the mill.” Alyx’s voice replied as Iona heard the sounds of the woman standing back up. Alyx and James slowly came into view, with Alyx reaching down and grabbing Iona roughly by the arm while James lifted her sword. Alyx crouched down close to Iona.

“We’re going to help. But if we rush in, this goes wrong fast. There’s more of them, and all the people running around won’t help either. Work with us here, yeah?” She told Iona, her hazel eyes locked to Iona’s. Iona glared at her again. The Cobalts had survived so long by avoiding conflicts like this, by letting others get hurt. And yet, there was an honesty to Alyx’s words, a solemness, that she found herself trusting.

So, she nodded.

Alyx gave her a slight smile before turning her head to Meghan and nodding. Meghan dropped her hand, taking a long, steadying breath as she did so. The iron weight on Iona’s limbs faded, leaving the tickling sensation of pins and needles spreading across them.

Alyx rose to her feet, pulling Iona with her as the group hurried in a crouch to the small shelter that overlooked the river at the mill’s edge. Crouching behind the wooden half wall within the shelter, Iona leaned forwards and began to massage feeling back into her clumsy, tingling legs.

James, meanwhile, moved to the wall, peering slightly over the edge and counting under his breath. After a moment, he ducked back down.

“Alright, I count at least thirteen more in town. There could be a few more that I haven’t spotted but they don’t know we’re here yet. Means we can move slowly, take them out one by one.” He reported. Iona shook her head, as yet another terrified scream echoed across the river.

“We move slow, more people die. I’m not letting anyone else down today.” She said firmly, fixing James with a hard stare. He matched her with an equally stubborn one back.

“If they get time to raise the alarm, then the entire deserter unit’s on us in seconds. We can take them out separately, but together? We’re as dead as everyone else here.” He objected.

“My job is to protect my people. I will not slink in the shadows while these cowards slaughter them like cattle!” Iona growled back, pulling her arm from Alyx’s grasp to advance on James.

“Your job is to survive until we get the sword and kill Draconeus. Not to die for some farmers because you got impatient!” James told her, his damaged hand tightening on the hilt of her sword. Iona’s lip curled. Why can’t he understand?

“James. She’s right. The longer we wait, the more people die. No point in saving a kingdom if there’s no-one to save.” Alyx’s voice was firm as she appeared at Iona’s side. Iona felt her heart flutter as Alyx stood by her, but she ignored the feeling.

James stared at his sister, then Iona, and finally to Meghan. The sorceress’ mouth shifted into a thin line and she gave him a little half nod, communicating quickly to him without the need of words.

“Fuck it. Fine.” James said, shaking his head slightly as he looked up over the wall again. “Move together, watch each other’s backs. No-one takes risks we don’t need to.” He turned back to Iona, lifting her sword with a gentle hold on the blade and offering her the hilt.

“Lead on princess.”

Iona gave him a grim smile of thanks as she closed her fist around the sword. Her heart beat with anticipation as she rose to her feet, looking across the river towards the burning town.

“Move for the town square, make sure people see us. This is a lumber town, maybe a few just need some encouragement to get their axes swinging.” She told them, looking over her friends.

Meghan’s face was focussed, her curved sword held tightly in her right hand as her left flexed, prepared to use magic. Iona knew it would be a last resort for her, even without the exhaustion and hunger, Meghan’s distaste for her own power often led to her choosing not to wield it when possible.

Uncertainty and doubt clouded James’ features, even as he expertly nocked an arrow to his bowstring. He looked more to his sister than anyone else. Iona wondered if he’d run if things went bad. If he’d grab Alyx and flee rather than stand at her back.

Alyx though gave Iona a steady, ready look as she spun her sword expertly within her hand. Her left hand held one of her three throwing axes, already bloodied from the woman she’d killed earlier. Where Iona had doubts about James, she knew with absolute certainty that Alyx would follow her here. She’d sworn to her father that she would protect Iona with her life, and Alyx treated her promises like sacred oaths.

Iona shifted her arm, stretching the muscles as she twisted her grip on her sword, moving it to a more useful angle. Then she looked back at the others once more and nodded.

As one, they moved, bursting from their hiding place and dashing across the bridge. Heat and smoke choked the air on the far bank and Iona felt her footing slip on the slick, churned mud as they turned and began moving through the streets.

She quickly adjusted her footing, recalling advice from Marius during their training months before. Stay standing, that’s the sure thing. If you’re standing, you’re fighting.

Ahead of her, a terrified older man rounded the corner, sprinting in panic away from a legionnaire who chased only a few steps behind, spear raised ready to stab through the man’s back.

One of James’ arrows shot through the air with a low whistle, passing cleanly over the old man’s shoulder and driving deep into the deserter’s chestplate. The warrior stumbled and cried out in pain and surprise, but it seemed his armour had taken most of the blow.

It didn’t block Meghan however, who cleanly passed her sword into her other hand as she ran and whipped it outwards. It sliced across the deserter’s throat with barely a whisper, and he spun, blood fountaining from his sliced neck, collapsing into the dirt.

A moment later and the group charged into the wide communal square, all four bellowing out battle cries. Heads turned, both of the townsfolk and the ambushed legionnaires. One legionnaire holding a knife to the throat of a young woman dropped instantly, James’ blue feathered arrow buried several inches into his eye socket.

Another fell to Iona, cutting her sword across the backs of their knees, dropping them with a cry of pain as she stood behind them. She gripped their chin with her free hand and their forehead with the other and wrenched her arms apart. Their neck broke with a crack that echoed even over the snap of the burning wood around them.

As they fell forwards, Iona lifted her sword and pointed it directly at the deserter at the square’s centre. She’d recognised him immediately. The sick one that had thrown the spear through the woman’s back during the ambush, that had laughed as she desperately tried to crawl away. He held a sobbing boy by the hair, the child couldn’t be more than a teenager as he struggled in the soldier’s grip.

“Enough! Let these people go!” Iona yelled at the soldier, who tilted his head in wonder at her. He stared at her for a moment, then his bearded face split into a grin.

“Well, well, seems we’ve got some heroes amongst us. Lads, show ‘em how the real world treats heroes.” He spat with a cruel laugh, one echoed by the other legionnaires as they closed in on the square, brandishing their weapons. Iona counted quickly, coming to the realisation that James had missed a couple of enemies in his count as she made out fifteen armed soldiers now advancing on them.

“Worth a try.” Alyx muttered as she stepped up next to Iona’s side. The princess only offered a quick snort in agreement. Again, her mind went to Marius’ training.

If an enemy outnumbers you, most times they get confident. Stay patient, defensive, let them give you an opening.

Reaching down, Iona lifted a battered shield from the hand of the soldier who’s neck she’d broken, holding it tight in her left hand. Then she shifted her gaze to the nearest soldier and cocked her eyebrow in a silent dare.

Come on and have go then.

The warrior took the bait, lowering his head and charging straight for Iona. Which left him open to one of Alyx’s throwing axes biting deep into the side of his head as he charged. His body slid to a stop in front of Iona.

One.

She didn’t have time to gloat though as another deserter swung a mace at her head. Raising her shield she felt the blow connect, causing her arm to shudder beneath it. Pushing her shield upwards, Iona threw the soldier’s arm off and followed up with an arcing upwards cut from her sword. The legionnaire barely stepped back in time to avoid it.

The two of them dropped into fighting stances, facing off with one another as the others all engaged with their opponents across the space.

A deserter archer dropped as they took aim at Alyx, James already shifting backwards as he reloaded his bow.

Two.

A vengeful legionnaire stepped forwards to try and cut the retreating James down, only to be deftly parried aside and disembowelled by Meghan in a series of lightning fast cuts.

Three.

Next to Iona, Alyx used her sword to parry away the swing of a flail, though her blade wrapped in the chain between the weapon’s hilt and the spiked head. Never one to be left unarmed though, Alyx delivered a quick punch with her free, gauntleted hand to her opponent’s face, bursting their nose in an explosion of red. The legionnaire lost their grip on the flail as they stumbled away. One of James’ arrows found them as they did and they too dropped as Alyx took the flail into her left hand, untangling it from her sword.

Four.

Iona returned her attention to her own opponent though as they swung their mace in a wide arc that she turned away with a flick of her wrist, parrying it off of her sword. The speed of the motion caused the deserter to stumble, and Iona stepped forward, ready to make use of the gap she’d created.

With her sword arm still recovering from the parry, Iona instead swung her shield arm around. The metal rim of the shield caught her opponent in the temple, and she felt their skull crack as their head rocked backwards from the blow. Not dead but certainly stunned and likely dying.

Iona couldn’t afford to let any threats come back to haunt her though and so with a quick stab of her sword, she ended the dazed deserter’s life.

Five.

As they fell away, Iona noticed that her thought about people perhaps getting involved to help was coming to fruition. The old man they had saved earlier had reappeared at Meghan’s side, driving a pitchfork into the chest of a deserter with a scream of vengeance.

Six.

Further back, another legionnaire began quickly trying to retreat as a massive man with a broad chest and long beard hammered blow after blow into their shield with an axe.

Next to Iona, Alyx kicked a legionnaire’s shield, causing them to stumble backwards a few steps. She advanced on them, her left hand twirling the flail in the air in wide spinning arcs that whooshed through the smoke and ash. The legionnaire swung their sword in a wide swing intended to create distance from Alyx, but she quickly parried it away with her own blade.

And then the flail came down, that long series of arcs swinging low and catching the legionnaire in the face with a crunch. As the swing continued, trailing red behind it, not much of the legionnaire’s face remained.

Seven.

When yet another of his comrades crumpled before Iona’s group, the man holding the teenager took a step back, doubt creeping across his features as he watched his men fall.

Which is what the kid had been waiting for.

Grabbing a blackened piece of wood that was sticking out from the building next to him, the boy twisted and jammed the end of it upwards. The still ashen hot wood struck the deserter in the left eye, and he screamed, both hands going to his face. The kid dropped, a chunk of his hair tearing out in the man’s fist.

The kid began scrambling away, but the man recovered faster than Iona expected, shaking his head to clear his vision, his eye blackened but clearly still working. He fixed the kid with a terrifying glare, reaching down to a broad headed war axe at his belt. The kid stood frozen, terror clear on his face.

“Run!” Iona yelled.

The sound broke the kid from his stupor and he took off at a sprint, dashing between two houses and disappearing from the square.

With a snarl of fury, the legionnaire leapt after him.

Iona’s legs were moving before she even realised what she was doing. She heard Alyx call out her name somewhere behind her. But she couldn’t stop, she knew from what she’d seen before that he wouldn’t. A few seconds after the deserter had dashed from the square, she was right on his tail.

Ahead of her, the kid sprinted down the hill from the village, crossing the bridge and dashing towards the main building of the lumber mill.

Smart, Iona thought, big building like that has plenty of hiding places.

The legionnaire was closing the distance though, only a short ways behind the kid and closing in fast.

Iona was too far behind, having taken longer to cross the square with all the fighting. The smoke and exhaustion burned in her lungs as she forced herself forwards, moving as fast as she possibly could.

The legionnaire disappeared through the wooden door of the lumber mill ahead of her as Iona skidded in the mud at the end of the bridge once again. This time she didn’t adjust quick enough though, and tumbled over, landing with a grunt on the corpse of the legionnaire she’d killed on the arrival to town.

“Fuck!” She grunted as she scrambled back to her feet and sprinted to the lumber mill. She caught sight of Alyx, sprinting down the hill on the other side of the river after her just before she reached the door to the mill and charged inside.

Exploding through the door into the centre of the mill, Iona was instantly surrounded by the smell of freshly cut sap and the creaking of the pulleys moving the mill’s wicked saw blade up and down repeatedly. She skidded in the saw dust that coated the floor as her eyes strained to adjust to the darkened space.

Her sight cleared just in time to see the deserter legionnaire as he swung his war axe towards her head.

With a gasp and sudden movement, Iona lifted her shield into place and was driven to one knee as the axe embedded itself deep in the thick wood.

With a grunt of exertion, the soldier wrenched his hand to the side, pulling Iona’s arm away from her body as he dragged the shield along with his axe. Then his fist came up, slamming into Iona’s chin and rocking her head back.

Light exploded behind her eyes, and she tasted copper as she sprawled on the wooden floor, her head smacking into the ground with a thud that reverberated through her body. Her ears rung, taking away all other sounds. Her grip slackened, the shield and sword dropping from her grasp.

Iona began blinking rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision.

And then the breath was driven from her chest as the legionnaire kicked her in the stomach, leaving her spitting blood onto the sawdust covered floor as she gasped for air. He kicked again and again, sending waves of pain through Iona’s body.

Suddenly though, Iona’s hearing was clear again as she heard running footsteps and Alyx calling her name. The soldier stopped kicking as he too, heard the approaching woman and he smiled a smile that sent dread through every part of Iona’s body that she could still feel.

Straining with effort, Iona pushed herself upwards and tried to call out Alyx’s name, to warn her. But all that came out was a strangled, breathless gasp.

The legionnaire chuckled and leaned down to Iona, lifting the axe, still embedded in the shield, into his hand.

“You brought ‘em here, little hero, now you’ll watch ‘em all die. Then… maybe I’ll kill you too.” He chuckled. Iona coughed as she struggled to catch her breath. Then she spat blood at him.

A few seconds later, Alyx burst into the darkness. And in that same moment the legionnaire swung the shield through the air, wrenching the axe free and sending the wooden disc spinning towards Alyx.

But her reflexes were clearly faster than Iona’s.

The shield embedded itself into the wood of the wall next to Alyx as she threw herself sideways, avoiding it by a hair. She stumbled against the wall, shaking her head as her sweat coated hair stuck to her face, blocking her vision.

The legionnaire stepped close and swung his axe and Alyx ducked, the axe sinking into the wood above her head. She stabbed out with her sword, but the legionnaire sidestepped and reached down. Gripping Alyx’s wrist with his free hand, he twisted suddenly. Alyx cried out in pain as her arm twisted at an odd angle, forcing her to drop her sword.

Reacting on instinct, Alyx punched out with her free hand, catching the legionnaire in the cheek and causing him to spin away from her, releasing her hand.

But he quickly counterattacked, swinging his arm wide in a backhand that caught Alyx in the cheek and sent her stumbling away.

She hit the pile of logs ready to be loaded into the chute that led to the saw blade and tumbled over. Her ankle twisted and there was a loud popping sound as she slammed down into the wood with an agonised scream.

Iona, who had just managed to catch her breath again, froze as Alyx rolled in pain, one hand clutching her leg to her chest. Every instinct was screaming at her to move, and yet she felt as heavy as she had when Meghan had pinned her with magic earlier.

The legionnaire threw his head back with a sinister laugh, brushing his long dark hair from his face. His grin revealed teeth splashed with red blood from a split lip as he bent down and lifted Alyx’s sword into his hand.

Then he strode slowly over to the log pile. Iona internally screamed at her aching muscles to move, slowly rising from the floor.

But it was too agonisingly slowly.

The man reached down and seized the writhing Alyx by the throat, his hand tightening around her neck. Her hands began clawing at his fingers, trying desperately to pull him free even as he squeezed her throat. His other hand lifted the sword.

“Nice try little girl.” He sneered.

But the gloating was just long enough.

Iona crossed the space between them in a few quick steps with a snarl of primal rage and gripped his sword arm with both hands. She drove her left palm down onto his elbow and pulled back with her right, bending the arm back on itself until it snapped beneath her hand.

His scream of agony was almost musical.

Alyx’s sword dropped from his hand as Iona twisted and threw him to the side, sending him tumbling along the wood pile until he reached the end.

Unexpectedly however, his vice grip on Alyx’s throat remained and she was dragged along with him as he rolled.

She was quick to react though, and as he came to a stop, she lifted the last throwing axe from her belt and, with a viper quick swing, embedded it in the man’s wrist. He screamed in agony again and his grip slackened on her throat, allowing Alyx to pull away from him, gasping for air as she tumbled to the floor.

And also allowing Iona time to plant her boot on his chest and kick him backwards, sending him tumbling over the edge of the mill chute with a terrified scream.

There was an ear-piercing screeching sound as the man’s armour was rent asunder by the rapidly moving saw blade. Then the most horrific, strangled screaming echoed from within the pit as the saw’s teeth bit deep into his chest. A fountain of scarlet sprayed out from the pit as the man’s body rose and fell, actively stuck onto the saw blade itself. 

Mercifully though, the weight eventually proved too much for the mechanism, and, with a snapping of ropes, the saw blade dropped to a stop. A second later, the mostly bisected corpse of the legionnaire fell free of the blade accompanied by a series of wet squelches and thumps as his organs evacuated his ruined body.

It was all Iona could do to hold onto the mutton from breakfast in her stomach as she doubled over, taking deep heaving breaths and spitting a glob of red blood into the sawdust.

Silence descended over the mill, with the only sound the pained breathing of the two women left standing.

After a moment, something shifted deeper in the mill and Iona straightened immediately, mentally preparing herself for another fight. But she relaxed when the boy that had fled here emerged from the shadows, his wide eyes staring into the now blood-stained lumber chute.

“Don’t look at it kid. You’ve seen enough bad today.” Alyx’s strained voice came from behind Iona, causing both Iona and the boy to jump in surprise. Absently the kid nodded, instead gingerly crossing the space towards the two of them. Iona turned to face Alyx, who was propped against a wooden wheelbarrow. The colour had drained from her face and the leg that she had twisted was stretched out gingerly before her.

“Are you alright?” Iona asked her, knowing the answer to the question already. Alyx scoffed.

“I’ve had worse.” She replied, flashing a cocky smile that Iona knew was meant for both her benefit and the kid’s. The fact that Alyx hadn’t moved since the man had let her go was proof enough that she was very much not alright. Iona reached down and gripped her arm.

Slowly, she pulled Alyx to stand on her good leg and guided Alyx’s arm around her shoulders, holding her up. Then she looked to the boy.

“What’s your name kid?” She asked, forcing a friendly smile, despite the blood she could feel trickling from a cut on her temple.

“Randall.” The boy replied, his voice shaky and hoarse from sobbing.

“Randall.” Iona repeated. “You’ve been very brave, but I need you to be brave just a little longer. Could you grab my sword and pass it to me please? And then can you carry my friend’s sword and get the door for us?”

Randall nodded slowly, seemingly pulled from his stupor by the task. Moving quickly, he did as he was told, even guiding Iona’s sword back into her scabbard.

Once he had opened the door, Iona and Alyx made their way out from the mill into the light again. The sounds of fighting from the village had stopped and instead, Iona could make out the calls of people moving to put out the fires. She relaxed even further when she made out James and Meghan moving down the hill towards the bridge, accompanied by a few other villagers.

Alyx hopped along, held up by Iona and made a strange humming sound when she caught sight of the others. Iona looked up at her, wondering what the sound meant.

“If you thought James was annoying before about things, I can only say brace yourself once he sees me.” She told Iona through gritted teeth and an apologetic smile.

They reached the pile of crates and sacks that made up the deserters supplies and Iona carefully lowered Alyx into a sitting position against a crate, her leg stretched out before her. Alyx winced as she did so and a pang of guilt shot through Iona’s chest.

If I hadn’t rushed in.

She didn’t have time to think deeper though as two figures burst from behind James and Meghan and sprinted across the bridge, calling Randall’s name. The boy almost immediately dropped Alyx’s sword and sprinted towards them, colliding with them in a mess of limbs and sobbing as who Iona assumed to be his parents hugged him tight to them.

James and Meghan moved straight past the family reunion, striding quickly over to Alyx and Iona.

“What happened?” James asked, his eyes lingering on his sister even as he addressed Iona. Meghan moved past the two of them, crouching down next to Alyx’s leg and taking in the injury.

“The leader went after the kid, I chased him down. Alyx followed. He was waiting in ambush for us.” Iona explained as behind her, Meghan eased off Alyx’s boot and sock, earning a string of colourful curses from the woman.

James’ mouth became a thin line, and he shook his head slowly, his gaze moving away from them all.

“I rushed in, it’s my fault. If I’d waited…” Iona began, wringing her hands behind her back.

“If you’d waited, the parents over there wouldn’t be holding their son again.” Alyx chimed in from her position behind Iona. Iona’s gaze moved to the family, still wrapped in a tight hug. She relaxed somewhat. Then Alyx’s voice sounded again with a hiss of pain. “Keep fucking poking at it Whiteoak, see what fucking happens.”

Meghan chuckled, but it was a mirthless sound. “No broken bones, but a bad sprain at least. This’ll take time to heal.” She said, gently laying Alyx’s leg down. In front of Iona, James took a long deep breath.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have rushed in. We all agreed to wait, to have each other’s backs. Now look at the state of the two of you. We can’t take risks like that. You least of all.” He told her sternly, his gaze like iron. She lowered her eyes, knowing the truth of his words.

“But Alyx is right too.” James continued with a deep sigh. “If you hadn’t gone, then things could be a lot worse.”

Iona looked up at him in surprise, a smile beginning to spread on her face. Pride lifted at her shoulders. But James’ face remained grim.

“Still though, we’ve done a good thing for these people.” He said, his voice still grim and quiet, so that no-one from the village would overhear. “But we’re worse off than ever now.”

“Oh sure, all these lovely supplies. We’re totally fucked.” Alyx replied sarcastically, wincing as Meghan helped her guide her boot back on. James fixed her with a serious glare.

“Stand up then Al. I’m sure you’ll be carrying all this to Blueholdt with us.”

Alyx stuck her middle finger up at him and raised herself slowly from the ground. Before nearly collapsing again immediately.

“If word gets out about us. If anyone finds out we were here. Then we’re now slow and easy to track.” James said, turning back to Iona.

“How would they know?” Iona asked, slightly confused. “The deserters are all dead, and we just saved these people’s lives. They wouldn’t turn us in.” James looked at her, sizing her up. Then he lowered his voice again.

“Winter’s closing in, and they just had some of their homes burned down. If they thought it would earn them a reward to tell that we were here… some might consider it. I might have done.”

Iona looked past him, towards Randall and his family. They were now talking quietly with each other, and every few words, they lifted their heads and looked towards the group.

In fact, Iona couldn’t shake the feeling they were looking straight at her.

“We’re far from the city, it’s unlikely they know who we are.” Meghan replied quickly, her voice equally low as she reached them. James nodded slowly, conceding her point.

“But if any of Draconeus’ men stop by. Four people, led by a young woman with pale skin, red hair and the fanciest accent any of them had ever heard? Not difficult to put two and two together there.” James retorted and Meghan shrugged. Iona pulled her head back in surprise.

“What’s wrong with my accent?” She asked, half joking. She understood James’ point perfectly, but the mood needed an injection of levity.

“Oh nothing, your highness. Aside from the fact that you sound like you’re here to collect their taxes.” James replied quickly, flashing her a quick smile. Iona giggled, glad he had taken her joke. He couldn’t be too mad then.

“Nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just gather what supplies we can from these packs and move off. The less time we’re here, the better.” Meghan stated, already moving to the packs. James and Iona exchanged quick glances, with both of them trailing their vision to Alyx. Iona tried as best she could to contain an apology in her glance, for getting Alyx hurt. James’ response was steely, but he shrugged in a clear message. While not happy about it, he could do nothing about it now, and he just wanted to move on.

Iona was about to also start searching the supplies when someone tugged at her elbow. She turned to find Randall stood behind her, flanked by his parents.

“Excuse me. I want to say thank you. For saving me, for saving all of us.” The boy said, not quite making eye contact with Iona, instead awkwardly staring somewhere past her ear.

“We don’t have much to offer as a reward.” Randall’s father began, clearing his throat as if he could cough out the awkwardness of his words. Iona smiled kindly at them as the others began looking through the supplies behind her.

“There’s no need for anything. You needed help, and we could give it. It’s what I… what we all have a duty to do. Besides, we’ve gotten plenty of rewards from the raiders, we wouldn’t want to take anything more from you.” She explained. The parents’ shoulders sagged with relief. But Randall seemed annoyed by this and chewed at his lip for a second, before he tugged at his father’s sleeve and whispered something into his ear. The father drew back and looked at his son with a surprised expression, then his gaze shifted past Iona to something behind her, then he looked back to Randall and nodded once.

“Randall would like to give you something all the same. A… gift, for saving his life. If you don’t mind waiting a little longer?” The man said, smiling at his son with a mixture of surprise and pride on his face.

Iona turned back to look to James, who shrugged, a curious expression on his face.

“It’ll take time to go through these bags anyway.” He said with a warm smile towards Randall. The boy beamed and took off running, pulling his family behind him as they rushed up into the forest along the paths out of town.

It was nearly a half hour later when they finally returned, but when they did, even James gasped in pleasant surprise.

Randall walked ahead of them, guiding a horse by the reins. A mare, Iona quickly realised, and a beauty at that. She had a dark coat, mottled in places by a dusting of white. Tall and well-muscled, she walked confidently and calmly at the boy’s command. Attached to her by a harness was a small cart, a lumber cart with an open back and two benches running down the insides that doubled as either seating or shelving as required. Randall’s mother sat in the driving position, while his father walked beside the cart.

Randall brought the horse to a stop just short of the group and passed the reins to his father before hurrying over to Iona.

“This is Moondust. She’s been mine since I turned ten, but she’s mostly been taking carts to market from the lumber yards. But Ma says her pa was a soldier’s horse. If that’s true, she should be helping you help people, not stuck pulling logs. She can help you get where you need to be, and she can carry your hurt friend in the cart too.” He explained hurriedly. Iona’s eyes widened in shock, looking from Randall to Moondust and back.

“This is… this is a very great gift, Randall. A mare like her is a rare thing. Are you sure?” She asked after a moment, stumbling over the words and overwhelmed by the kindness the young boy was showing.

“I think still being alive and safe is a better gift. And I want to help you help more people.” Randall replied earnestly, pulling at Iona’s hand and guiding her to the horse. Iona laid her palm on the horse’s nose, stroking it gently and looking the mare over more closely. She had deep, dark eyes that watched Iona calmly and steadily, totally unfazed by the stranger, even covered as she was in the smells of ash and blood. Good, calm temperament. Iona thought. Maybe there is some truth to your sire being a warhorse then.

She looked down to Randall again and smiled.

“Thank you, Randall, she’s beautiful. You’ve helped in more ways than you know today. When this awfulness is over, I’ll repay your kindness here, I promise.” She told him and the boy beamed and swelled with pride.

Iona turned her head back to the others.

“Forget searching the packs, lets get them loaded up on here.” She called out and James and Meghan grinned at her, James moving to lift packs while Meghan lifted Alyx and helped her over to the cart.

“Give them a hand you two.” Randall’s mother said as she clambered down from the driving bench in front of Iona. As Randall and his father hurried to help, the woman pressed a folded paper into Iona’s palm. Iona unfolded it just slightly and her smile grew wider as she recognised a map, with markers showing the location of Oakworth and tracing a network of roads and tracks in the area.

“To get you where you’re going. Merchant guide your paths dear.” The woman said, holding Iona’s hands in hers. Iona smiled kindly at her, bowing her head at the blessing.

“Thank you, and may the Soldier ever protect your home.” She replied, offering what little blessing she could in return. The woman smiled in thanks and patted Iona’s hand before she moved off, helping load the cart.

A short while later, the cart was loaded with their packs and supplies, with Alyx nestled amongst them with her leg elevated. James and Meghan sat on the driver’s bench, with Meghan tracing their route along the map and discussing with James. Iona stood on the bridge, leaning on the railing and looking up towards Oakworth as the people gathered to wave them off.

Ravellans all have our destinies. Mine is to stand with Aldiron. Yours is to save it.

Iona smiled sadly as her father’s words once again crept into her mind.

“I’m trying father. Our people still endure. I will protect our legacy.” She told the babbling water and winter wind. The breeze lifted her hair in response and she smiled.

Then, as Meghan clicked her tongue and Moondust started forwards, Iona turned away from the now saved town and hopped up into the back of the cart as it moved away down the road.

Leaving behind her a small stuffed bear, now resting peacefully on the edge of the bridge.