Oranges

Oranges

                Protagonist sighed. They had work to do, and Spouse was late (again!). That he thought it was an honour to do the cleaning work at the shrine bamboozled Protagonist. It was hard, boring work, and nobody cared! Well, the caretaker was pleased, but it wasn’t like spouse was the next caretaker in line.

                Oh, no, that was it. Spouse was probably late because the monthly ceremony was today. The caretaker would rub the ‘belly’ of the artifact (the central blob), then it would shine blue, and everyone who bothered to show up would cheer. Spouse liked to watch the ceremonies so he’d probably stayed back.

                I may as well get on with what I can do, thought Protagonist, looking around her lounge room. She and Spouse were supposed to be rearranging everything today, moving the old heavy ‘couch’ (it was more of a bench) out so the nice cushioned one Protagonist had bought could be moved in. Then she and Spouse could lounge about comfortably when they had guests, instead of sitting on the hard bench.

                Spouse had rejected the idea of buying two cushioned chairs – he wanted to cuddle up to Protagonist. Protagonist figured that if their relationship got any more strained she could saw the new couch in half and nail some legs to the middle for balance.

                She’d married spouse a couple of years ago when he’d asked her to. It was the way things were done in their village – you asked, and if they said yes you got married; if not, … generally you asked someone else after a little while. There was no courtship or anything fancy like that, although those who married had often known one another for a long time. Protagonist had known Spouse all her life, a friendly acquaintance.

                Being married to him was okay, sometimes good, sometimes bad. Annoying, more often than bad. He wasn’t interested in making her happy, so in turn, she didn’t really care about making him happy. Which didn’t bother him, which rather annoyed her. He was nice and sweet and they discussed the house and stuff fairly, but his time was all him time. And there hadn’t been a blossoming of love in Protagonist’s heart, either.

                Honestly she wanted some time away, to think. She didn’t want to leave Spouse – she didn’t know if anyone else would ever want her, and she liked him a bit, maybe… It was one of the things she had to think about. But going somewhere else for a bit, clearing her head, maybe going on a trip to the neighbouring towns…

                A knock at the door made Protagonist realise that she’d been standing with one hand resting on the shitty old couch for at least ten minutes. “Coming!” she called out, heading to the door. Couldn’t be Spouse – he’d just have wandered in.

                Protagonist opened the door and found a very worried looking militia captain on her doorstep. She couldn’t remember his name off the top of her head – she did recognise him from around town, though.

                “Protagonist?” he asked.

                “That’s me,” replied Protagonist.

                “Captain Militia Captain, captain of the second militia division, Ma’am,” he said. “You may want to take a seat for this.”

What could it be? “I’ll stand,” replied Protagonist. She wasn’t particularly frail – that was Spouse’s thing.

“There’s been a raid on the shrine. Your husband, Spouse, has been taken,” said Militia Captain, “Along with the artifact and numerous others.”

“Oh no,” said Protagonist. “Who attacked us? Why?”

“We’re not sure. We think it was a warband from across the sea – how they got this far inland before attacking anyone we aren’t sure,” replied Militia Captain. “If you’d like to help the rescue operation out, we’re meeting in the town hall in a few minutes.”

Protagonist nodded. “Of course!” she replied. She kept a spear somewhere for emergencies like this – she wasn’t part of the militia, but she felt that being ready for anything was a good idea.

The captain gave her a smart salute and said, “Excellent. We need all the hands we can get – there weren’t many raiders, but it will still be a tough fight. I have other houses to visit, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I’ll see you at the hall,” said Protagonist.

“Ma’am,” answered the captain, before taking his leave.

                Almost everyone in town seemed to have assembled in the hall. Many were carrying weapons, makeshift or otherwise. Protagonist wondered whether it might have been a better idea to assemble in the square outside – it was larger and could actually fit the whole town. Despite the hall being larger than most (by virtue of the prosperity the artifact ensured them) it wasn’t that big.

                Despite the squeeze, she managed to find a nice spot to stand up against a wall. Someone with a bit of foresight had move the seats that usually occupied much of the hall outside, which was nice, although some of the older townspeople probably weren’t having a good time.

                The village mayor appeared on the balcony at the far end of the hall, flanked by his guards. “Thank you all for coming!” he called out, silencing the crowd. Protagonist suspected that Mayor had been elected due to his booming voice; it had certainly drowned out the competition during the debates.

                “I see that… A lot of you have just come along anyway,” continued Mayor. “I asked the militia captains to get the strong or well-armed, um. Nevermind! You have all likely heard of the attack on the shrine. Bystander and Another Guy were killed“– there were some shocked murmurs in the crowd –“and many who were there were taken captive. The raiders also took the artifact.

                “We must chase them down immediately to save our friends and family. They number only a few – barely enough to take those who were at the shrine this afternoon. A full sortie by the militia and those of you here should easily defeat them; they are not far, and their captives cannot walk fast. Note that I mean those of you who were asked to come here.

                “Please assemble in the square with the militia; you will head out as soon as possible. Good luck!”

                With the mayor’s final words the roar of worried conversation overtook the hall. Protagonist began making her way outside along with many of the others. A few questions were shouted at the mayor – who was taken, which direction did the raiders go, was anyone hurt – but none were particularly interesting.

                Getting back outside was similarly squeezy as the townspeople flowed back out into the square. All three of the militia divisions were already assembled; sixty people in total, each armed and armoured. Their captains and commander stood in front of them.

                “Alright,” yelled out Commander. “Those of you who are coming hang around over there, those who want to gawk like idiots over there.” He pointed to two opposite sides of the square. Protagonist headed over to the ‘coming along’ area.

                A minute or so later, when the hall had emptied out, he continued. “When we head out follow behind us. We have to leave one division behind and we believe there are sixty or so raiders so you guys are going to be fighting. If you can’t keep up, make your way back in small groups,” Commander said. He looked over those who were coming along, seemingly counting them. Protagonist was pretty sure they outnumbered the militia by a little – maybe seventy people.

                “Alright, should be enough,” said Commander. He balled his right hand and slapped it into his left. “Move out!”

                Two of the militia divisions and their captains set off at a jog, and the mob of townspeople followed behind. I wonder if they’ll make it to the edge of town before we start walking? wondered Protagonist.

                They didn’t stop jogging until they were quite a bit out of town, just past the shrine, when they ran into a lone hunter. She seemed to have been waiting for them; after a brief chat with the commander she led them onwards.

A couple of dozen townspeople had already given up after the jogging. Several more seemed to be on the edge of giving up. Protagonist was fine, though. She was one of the tougher villagers – when she was younger she’d won some of the sport contests in the yearly fair. Anything to do with endurance or strength; even now she threw a mean javelin. Her job kept her fairly fit, as well; assisting wagon repair involved quite a bit of heavy lifting.

The direction the raiders had fled in was unfortunately quite chaotic – a mix of hills, light woodland, streams and small lakes. No-one knew if the quick pace they walked at was helping them catch up or causing them to lag further behind the raiders. The hunter seemed to have no trouble finding their trail, though, and even Protagonist could see a lot of things that indicated the recent passage of quite a few people.

Worst case, we’re going around in circles, she supposed.

About an hour out of town they suddenly stopped. Commander and the hunter had some kind of discussion, then the walk resumed. Scattered chatter slowly spread what had happened through the group – the trail had split. The trail they were following now consisted only of people on foot and was headed straight to the coast. Apparently the hunter (known as Hunter) was almost certain this group included the captives. It also seemed like the more likely choice to Protagonist, though a few disagreed. She recognised one of the disagreeing voices as Grumbler.

I think I’ll just trust Hunter’s opinion.

                It was growing dark when they first heard voices coming from up ahead. By then, the non-militia contingent had been reduced to about thirty, Protagonist included. The walk so far had left her and the rest tired, mostly too tired to talk, which made the immediate ‘shhh’ superfluous.

                Hunter crept on ahead, disappearing over the crest of a hill. After she had returned and conversed with Commander they were given orders. One militia division would circle to the left, the other to the right. Commander would lead the remaining townspeople over the hill and directly at the raider’s camp to get their attention; then the militia would strike.

                Protagonist wondered if the plan was intended to keep the militia alive… But if what Commander said Hunter had seen, there wouldn’t be much trouble. Only about twenty of the raiders were present, guarding all of the fifty or so captives (though Hunter was unsure if all were there). Twenty raiders didn’t stand much chance against a force three times their size, with double their number well-trained and armed as well.

                After the two militia divisions had snuck off into the woods Commander raised one hand and gave a ‘follow-me’ gesture to the quiet townspeople. They moved behind him slowly and as quietly as they could. Protagonist noted that Hunter had made herself scarce – hopefully just getting into a good spot to shoot her bow from.

                When they crested the hill the voices of the raiders got a lot louder. It was hard to tell exactly what they were saying but what Protagonist did catch was quite unpleasant. She was certain she heard a suggestion about cutting off someone’s fingers one at a time just for fun…

                The raiders had made camp beside a lake, and were bustling around busily. There were no watchmen in sight; if there were any they were hidden well. But it was more likely that the raiders figured that no-one would be foolhardy enough to chase after them. Each and all of them were armed to the death; chainmail, axes, furs, swords and a few bows. If it wasn’t for the sheer number the townspeople had brought to face them Protagonist would have been worried.

                It was a few minutes later, as the townspeople were carefully making their way through the trees, that the raiders spotted them. “Attack!” shouted a lone voice, followed by several echoing the same cry. The raiders threw aside what they were doing, and all but a handful charged towards the townspeople.

                “Hold steady!” yelled Commander. He held his bastard sword in a tight two-handed grip. “Fight them two on one amidst the trees!”

                Right on cue Protagonist spotted the two militia divisions emerging; one east and one north of the townspeople. Arrows from all three positions flew at the raiders, a couple finding their marks. Yet despite the appearance of new foes, the raiders did not slow their charge.

                They scrambled up the hillside towards the waiting townspeople, axes drawn and screaming incoherently. Protagonist was pretty sure it was meant to be scary, but it wasn’t. A few of them were making noises more akin to gargling than anything bloodcurdling.

                Some of those she stood beside were affected. They visibly wavered, breathing heavily and eyes widening. “For HOMETOWN!” shouted Commander. His brave call steadied only a few.

                Protagonist’s focus tightened. No longer was she looking at the charging mob of raiders – only at those headed straight for her. The townspeople beyond those right beside her seemed to fade away. There was just her, a couple of ill-equipped others, and a trio of charging, screaming, armoured lunatics.

                She levelled her spear at them and waited for them. Charging up a hill was slowing them down considerably, and tiring them. It couldn’t be that hard to stick one.

                The first raider to reach them was a weedy man wielding a curved blade. He advanced on the woman to Protagonist’s left, giving Protagonist and opportunity to stab at him. The raider dodged backwards, and Protagonist turned her attention to the second arrival. This one was small woman swinging a surprisingly large hammer – she immediately swung it at Protagonist with surprising speed and force.

                Rather than block or duck, Protagonist stepped backwards then used the reach of her spear to slash at the woman. The spear nicked the raider’s shoulder lightly, causing the woman to gasp as she prepared her hammer for another mighty swing. That swing forced Protagonist back again, limiting her to going for another nick. Or perhaps…

                Screw it, thought Protagonist. As the woman rotated her hammer around for another swing, Protagonist leapt at her and knocked her completely off balance. The hammer continued rotating as they fell, tearing itself out of the woman’s hands and flying off useless. The woman’s empty hands shot towards the dagger sheathed at her belt – it was time for close combat.

                Unfortunately for her Protagonist had seen the dagger before she made her move, and had already taken it. The raider barely managed a curse as Protagonist pushed her head back and slammed the dagger through the floor of her mouth right to her brain. She struggled a little before she stopped moving, killing herself as she inadvertently caused the knife to wriggle.

                Back on her feet and glancing around Protagonist noticed that things were going well. Most of her fellow townspeople were engaged in fights, but many were two on one and barely anyone seemed hurt. Part of each militia division was charging up the hill behind the raiders; the rest of them were clearing out the few who had stuck with the camp. If the raiders had a capable commander of their own, they were not present.

                A sharp scream from her left dragged Protagonist’s attention back to her immediate surroundings. The raider she’d swung at before had managed to cut the townswoman he’d been fighting deeply; the cut was already gushing blood. Protagonist picked up her spear and charged at him, managing to catch him off guard with a sudden thrust.

                It didn’t connect, but it did make him leap back again. He shot a glare in her direction as he landed… Only to lose his footing completely and fall backwards. Protagonist rushed to her fellow townswoman rather than gawk, but she did catch the man starting to roll back down the hill.

                The woman had collapsed onto the ground, half-heartedly holding her wound. She seemed to have pretty much given up, and was surprised when Protagonist appeared.

                “Keep fighting,” she said. “Don’t worry about old Mayor’s Maid.”

                “I’m pretty sure we’ve won,” said Protagonist. She tore the remains of the woman’s shirt off, and used it to staunch the bleeding.

                After a quick glance around, she added, “The militia are here now. They’ve got this.”

                Mayor’s Maid nodded. Protagonist peeked down the hill, trying to spot the clumsy raider. He’d slid pretty far, and had just been stabbed through by one of the militia. Serves him right, thought Protagonist.

                “Wow, that’s pretty bad,” said a militiaman, arriving and looking at Mayor’s Maid. “I’m Medic, one of the medics. I’ll handle it from here.”

                Protagonist nodded. “Okay,” she said. She stood up and looked at her hands. They were covered in Mayor’s Maid’s blood.

                Eh, Protagonist thought, and nonchalantly wiped it off on her pants.

                                                                             

                Every last raider was caught and killed in the attack on the camp. Only four of the townspeople died, including Mayor’s Maid who tragically succumbed to her wounds. It was a tactical masterstroke, and Commander was quite chuffed with his work.

                Protagonist was more worried about Spouse. He wasn’t amongst the rescued townspeople – in fact, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. She did manage to find Caretaker, the caretaker of the shrine, however. Surely Spouse had stuck to him like glue – he’d certainly know what had happened to her husband.

                “Caretaker, where’s Spouse?” asked Protagonist, worried.

                “Huh? Oh, Protagonist! I should have expected that you’d be here. The other group has him – and a couple of others. They were going to take me but Spouse claimed to know more about the artifact than I did! He shouldn’t have… It is my duty to take care of it, wherever it goes, for two more years,” said Caretaker.

                “The raiders still have him?”

                “Yes. I have… Worse to say. The raiders are of the Terrible People. They’re sick. They took those other than Spouse with them to, to torture.” Caretaker looked as if he was on the edge of tears. “I can’t bear to think about it!”

                “We have to save them. And the artifact,” said Protagonist.

                “Yes,” said Caretaker. “We must. But first we must return to Town, and choose those who will go.”

                The journey back to Town was uneventful; yet it did not feel dull. Calming down after the evening’s excitement left Protagonist unable to think of much except her soft bed and perhaps a warm fire… For once, she wouldn’t have minded cuddling with Spouse.

                Despite her desires, she found herself amongst those assembled in the town hall upon their return. The freed captives, their friends and relatives and the militia were also present. The mayor had launched into a speech as soon as everyone was there, of course.

                “People of Town,” he boomed, “It is good to see our friends and family returned safely, and with few losses. But the artifact – and several of our fellow townspeople – remain in the hands of these raiders!

                “They must be rescued, and the artifact recovered. The militia cannot go after them – they cannot leave the town behind for so long. More so; the raiders are mostly on horseback, and we have few horses. Only a dozen of our bravest can go. But they shall be given all that we can give to aid them in their mission!

                “Several of you I am sure will go. Protagonist, whose husband Spouse is amongst the captives. Commander, to lead the group. Blacksmith-“

                Wait, WHAT? thought Protagonist. I mean, I might go, but… I… Well, why not.

                Wondering a little if she’d regret going along with it later, she tuned back in. “-o those who wish to volunteer as well please see me. If you are going, prepare yourself tonight. You leave at the crack of dawn!”

                There was a scatter of cheering. Protagonist, like most others, headed for the exit. A handful went to speak to Mayor, however. And Commander intercepted Protagonist on her way out.

                “I know Mayor volunteered you, but coming or not is up to you,” said Commander. “You don’t have to. Blacksmith and Florist don’t need to either, for that matter. Captain and Other Captain are talking to them, though. I wanted to talk to you myself.”

                “Why?” asked Protagonist.

                “You’re quick with a spear and well known for being tough as nails. I still hear the story Friend tells, about how she broke her leg a few years back so you carried her all the way back to town. Or the one Mate tells where you single-handedly pull him back up from a roof edge. And a few other stories besides,” said Commander.

                “So you want me to come, then?” asked Protagonist.

                “You’d be a valuable addition to the group. I’m kind of glad I never tried to convince you to join the militia, actually. It means I can take you and three militia. That’s the limit Mayor set for me, unfortunately. Otherwise I’d just take the militia – we’ve sworn to defend Town. But Mayor’s worried about more raiders showing up. These Terrible People raiders tend to come several groups at a time.”

                Protagonist blinked sleepily. “Don’t worry, I’m coming. Um, if you want to do me a favour make sure I have some armour. But right now I really just want to sleep.”

                “Sure. I’ll get your measurements off Tailor, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Good evening.”

                “Good evening.”

                Protagonist never could clearly remember making her way home after that.