Victor

This piece is the last of the Tadyel series for now. It's been an interesting experience, putting out part of a sequential story each week, and I'm kinda surprised I succeeded. I did intend to have two going at once but 'Wandering Eastward' is too much of a world-building exercise/indulgence - it might be entertaining but it also takes more time, since I don't want to have to 'retcon' derpy stuff out.

            Back to the point, this was an experiment to see if I could write an extended piece that holds together - basically a novel in parts. It's not quite as long as a novel (I think it's around sixty thousand words) but I'm pretty sure it's the longest single story piece of writing I've done (even if each chapter is more or less a self-contained piece).

            I've succeeded, and although I might start up another of these soon (Sable's story is very tempting - I'm fond of that character) my next big thing will be editing and properly proof-reading a compiled version of this story - it's something I need practice in. (for the record, the previous two things were working on the volume of writing I do and working on a long, single work instead of just connected stories (aka the Tadyel series))

            Mild rambling aside, I've had a bit of fun doing this and I'm really happy that I've reached the end. Thanks anyone who has read them (if this is the first you've seen, head to the Series page and go from the start >_>) and hopefully you've found them enjoyable.

            Time for me to buckle down and actually write this last piece - keep in mind, it's really an epilogue.

Victor

                Three days later the townsfolk of Green Creek had - of all things - a celebratory barbecue in a 'park' area just outside town. The everyone in town and even a few of the refugees in the camps were invited, sausages were cooked en masse and the bakery worked overnight to provide all the bread.

                For Tadyel, who'd never seen a celebration (or a barbecue) the sheer amount of food and happy people was enthralling. The sense of joy, success and happiness in the air was insuppressible. The threat to Green Creek was gone - and a few symbolic gestures from the leaders of the remaining refugees had calmed down some of the anger that had spilt over.

                Tadyel was sitting beside Vanna at the table set aside for the 'guests of honour' - the three known Magi agents, quite a few of the guard, and various rich or otherwise important townspeople. Other tables were occupied by the rest of the townsfolk though many (especially the children) were standing, wandering about with a piece of bread holding a sausage in one hand and usually a drink in the other. In the case of the adults the drink was usually an alcoholic one.

                It was hard to talk over the din; in fact, Tadyel hadn't said much so far. Vanna was frequently in conversation with someone who'd wandered over or Frennet, who was on her left. The man on Tadyel's right was mute and deep in discussion with his own right hand neighbour using sign language Tadyel didn't understand. Dot was elsewhere, catching up with all her mates and getting noisily drunk. Tadyel was pretty sure she could hear Dot's voice over the din, so she was probably hammered already.

                That left only Ilwinne, who was sitting across the table from Tadyel and honestly looking really pretty. Out of her armour and in a dress Tadyel was pretty sure she helped make a couple of weeks back she looked completely different. Her muscles were obvious yet didn't noticeably detract from her femininity. Her pale brown hair changed a lot as well - no longer cooped up in a helmet, it dangled around her neck enchantingly.

                What Tadyel would do about Ilwinne was a difficult thing to figure out. According to Vanna things would calm down for a bit; and with the secret out they could train openly. Tadyel would have free time and had been encouraged to 'put down some roots'. But did she like Ilwinne? Ilwinne was cute and having her interested felt nice but Tadyel was pretty sure she liked the idea of being with a bloke more. Probably? It was complicated, and not something she wanted to deal with for a while. She'd convinced Vanna to let her have a few days off, so she had time to think about it. Right now though... It was too... Complicated.

                Luckily Ilwinne didn't really seem to mind - she'd accepted Tadyel's brief "I'm sorry, but I need some time to think about... Everything, after all of this," with good humour. It was a step up from being awkwardly off put by her interest, which likely pleased her.

                Further awkward sitting with no-one to talk to was cut off by the loud blowing of a horn that brought everyone to silence. Frennet had climbed onto the table and was looking out over the assembled crowd. Unlike many of the guard she was still in armour - she was, after all, in charge and still technically on duty. She had set her helmet on the table, revealing her short-cut black hair.

                "People of Green Creek," she called out, "and those who stood with us against the threat, thank you for coming to this celebration of our victory. The surviving Followers are under guard while their history is pieced together and checked to detect any remaining Thrath; and once that is complete they have no desire to continue being puppets. The Followers of Ormgus are no more!"

                A cheer went up from the crowd. Frennet wait for it to die down before continuing. "There are many to thank for this. Firstly, those who gave their lives - townsfolk, refugee and Magi - in the battles against them and in the secret fighting before then. They valiantly fought against those who would leave us weak to the Thrath, and against the Thrath themselves. Their deaths will be remembered."

                There was a couple of cheers but the crowd mostly remained solemn. After a few moments of silence, Frennet continued again. "Those who fought to protect us and lived must also be thanked - the members of the guard, those who volunteered, and also the three Magi agents who came forward with the truth." Vanna rose and pulled Tadyel to her feet, then pushed her into a bow. There was more cheering.

                "Finally, we owe thanks to every person in Green Creek, and every refugee, for refusing to shelter the Followers when the nature of their leaders became common knowledge. We cannot allow the Thrath to gain a foothold in our town; nor in any of our fellow towns. We have heard so much of the horror they inflict on the peninsula - it must not be allowed to come here.

                "With aid from the Magi we have defeated the first of the Thrath. But more will come - an army, not agents. We must aid the Magi in turn, despite their methods. When the Thrath come north they will be stopped; as together we will be strong. For Green Creek!"

                The crowd echoed Frennet's call and began cheering. A few chanted 'Green Creek' for quite a while, but most quickly returned to conversation. Tadyel wondered whether they all agreed with Frennet's sentiments - there were certainly some who felt the threat of the Thrath wasn't as great as it seemed or that the refugees deserved no thanks (despite many dying after the inheritance of the Thrath became known).

                Actually, the current treatment of the refugees - still the same as it was at the height of the paranoia - bothered Tadyel. Many seemed happy to almost force them to move on, despite the large amount of unused land near Green Creek on which they could easily settle. It was kind of weird; as if a few individuals breaking trust once permanently tainted an entire group.

                "Smile, Gel," said Vanna, turning back to her. "We're a big part of this celebration."

                Tadyel smiled. "Maybe," she said, "but I've got stuff on my mind and no-one to talk to."

                "Dot is supposed to be sitting with us," said Vanna. "Although given how much she's had already it's probably for the best."

                Looking over at Dot, Tadyel was inclined to agree. One of Dot's friends was puking in a bush. "Oh, ew," said Tadyel.

                Vanna chuckled. "What's bothering you? The Followers will be out of lockup soon and we let that mercenary go," she said.

                "The refugees," said Tadyel. "They're getting the shit end of the stick."

                "That's something we'll work on," said Vanna. "A repeat of the Followers would be a severe problem. Especially if it wasn't led by Thrath."

                "I know," said Tadyel. "I'm just - I'm more bothered by how people are acting, rather than what happens to them next."

                "That's people," said Vanna. "It can be kind of horrible, but at least if you notice it you can stop yourself from doing the same."

                "Except for the Thrath," said Tadyel.

                "Yeah," said Vanna, "except for the Thrath. Hey, do you want to go for a walk? There are a couple of things we need to talk about."

                "Sure," said Tadyel, grabbing a bit of bread and nabbing a sausage as she rose, "I could use a walk." Hopefully Vanna was going to say something interesting - she'd had a couple of drinks.

                Vanna rose as well, and turned to Frennet. "I'll be back soon," she said.

                Frennet nodded. "I'll keep your seats clear," she said.

                Tadyel and Vanna wandered a short distance from the park, heading further away from town. There were a few other people around - mostly on walks themselves. A couple seemed melancholy; one of whom was someone Tadyel knew had lost a relative in the fight with the Followers.

                "So, the first thing," said Vanna, "is that Eden's bosses are thinking of granting you honorary 'least' Magus status. 'Least' Magi are those, like Dot and I, who can't really use our magic. I have honorary 'Lesser' status, so technically I'm due respect from Least Magi and equal to the Lesser Magi. For me the honorary is a silly title, but for you... It would mean you are one of 'us'."

                "Oh... Kay," said Tadyel, stuffing the rest of her sausage into her mouth. "I don't think I really want that."

                "I didn't really expect you would," said Vanna, "but think about it. It should grant your people full freedom and potential honorary status themselves. And, holding the title doesn't mean you need to obey or work for us more than you already do - probably less, actually."

                Tadyel frowned slightly. "I don't... You're alright, Vanna, but I don't want to be responsible for what you do," she said.

                "I know," said Vanna. "The second thing is about that, actually. We imply that people die or are consumed or something when we make the constructs, but it's not exactly that."

                "What is it, then?" asked Tadyel. "It can't be anything good. The people you take aren't ever seen again."

                "They can be, though," said Vanna. "They're inside the constructs in a kind of... stasis. They're inside the constructs but that's it - they're completely alive and intact. If we remove them or the construct is destroyed they'll wake up. They won't have aged, either - there'll be a big blank gap in their memories of the time they spent inside. Once the Thrath are gone the plan is to release everyone."

                It took Tadyel a little while to wrap her head around it. "So rather than killing people outright, you're, what, conscripting them? Shanghaiing them into construct duty?" she asked.

                "You could look at it that way," said Vanna.

                "And then they go off and fight for you and die and this isn't really much better," said Tadyel. "Why the hell isn't this common knowledge? It'd certainly go down better with the anti-refugee crowd."

                "The Thrath can be scared, and scared Thrath is more important than hopeful refugees or more support from the towns. Every month they stay away is another month we have to prepare," said Vanna. "When the Thrath start moving we'll let the truth out. But I thought you should know."

                Tadyel shook her head. "I guess it helps, but... I still don't want to talk about it," she said. "Couldn't you ask people? There have to be plenty who'd love to fight against the Thrath."

                "The secret would get out. We do tell them the truth before we seal them, but there's no option," said Vanna. "Apparently some are willing after the truth is revealed, but only a fraction."

                Tadyel balled up one of her hands and waved it about a little. "I guess just... Give me some time to think about it," she said. "That's another thing to obsess over."

                "That's fine," said Vanna. "I thought you should know. I don't really like it either, but I'm a Magi - I was raised to look at the big picture."

                "I can see it too," said Tadyel. "The Thrath... are worth fighting. But is it right to? Ugh."

                Vanna smiled. "There are some books on the subject, if you ever learn to read properly," she said.

                A couple of minutes passed, Vanna remaining silent while Tadyel worked through her thoughts a bit. Eventually Tadyel said, "Let's just go back to the barbecue. I'm still hungry."

                "Alright," said Vanna. She smiled. "Whatever you decide on, or figure out, things are going to be quite different."

                "Yeah," said Tadyel. "Hopefully better."

*****

                Three years and two months passed before word finally came that the Thrath were preparing for war. Word came with the last of the refugees to pass through the desert - quite suddenly, there were none. Rumour said that the Thrath had slaughtered the rest for a while, but the truth eventually emerged. The Thrath were using them as labour in the harshest possible conditions - finally treating them as slaves rather than serfs.

                In this time, the anti-Magi groups in each of the desert-border towns were dissolved. Some were run out from the towns they had attached too, others discovered Thrath agents within their number and in revulsion dissolved after casting the Thrath out. Known Thrath were hunted down, other agitators captured and - more often than not - sent to the Magi to be made into constructs. Such was the fate of the Followers of Ormgus whose parentage was unclear, as well.

                The Magi's counter-espionage was successful, and through the years their army grew large. Thousands of constructs, and agreements with the towns not just at the edge of the desert but also further north to provide troops and prepare to face the Thrath. Yet the Thrath army numbered in the tens of thousands - or more. When the time came they would all head north; an uncountable swarm that would spill across the land.

                Soon the war, long prepared for, would begin.

*****

                At about the same time, in the town of Far Passage, a solitary trading ship came into port late in the evening. It had travelled from further to the east, where there were other lands the Thrath had yet to ravage. It was carrying a great amount of cargo and also a handful of passengers, including an oddly attired warrior who seemed very pleased to be no longer at sea.

                "Hey there, traveller," said a man waiting at the dock. "Looking for lodgings for the night?"

                "That would be good, actually," said the warrior. She was tall - probably two hundred and ten centimetres tall. "I didn't get a wink on that boat."

                The man chuckled. "Excellent! I'll guide you to the Beached Whale, although I'll wait for the other passengers to disembark to make them the same offer. Say, what's your name? I might have heard of a warrior like yourself."

                "Dytja," she replied.

                "The blue blood?" asked the man incredulously.

                "Yep," she said, "Heard of me?"

Vin Gents

Vin Gents

                It took a while for Protagonist to wrap her head around it, but apparently Witch was able to hear – if she wanted to – what people called other people. Sort of. Everyone had different names for everyone, or something like that, except you could always tell who meant who. Witch was able to tune into the words actually being said, instead of what she was meant to hear, so she could tell what people thought of each other. Though apparently it was more complicated than that.

                For example, Narcissist called himself ‘the great and mighty’. Yet Commander called him ‘annoying prat’ and to Witch he was ‘self-obsessed villager’. Hero and Heroine called each other ‘love interest’.

The complications began with the stranger names. Traitor was apparently called ‘traitor’ by everyone except herself. Witch claimed that this was a bit of the future – that Traitor would, eventually, turn traitor. Protagonist wasn’t really sure why it was weirder than people referring to each other by different names all the time.

Names would also change from time to time. In particular, Witch was hoping that Traitor’s would change to something less ominous. Protagonist didn’t even try to wrap her head around how that would work. Witch unfortunately had no examples of it actually happening – she’d only learnt it from her master.

“So what do you call yourself?” Protagonist asked after Witch finished her explanation.

“Extensive training allows me to use only my true name,” said Witch. “But you will not hear it – neither part is an ordinary word. The closest to saying it one can come is ‘magic’.”

“That seems appropriate,” said Protagonist. “If we’re all running around calling each other traitor and narcissist and so on.”

“I have my suspicions that there is a similar, hidden effect upon our true names,” said Witch. “Though I have only heard one other – my master’s, which was very close to sorcery.”

“This is a bit too complicated and silly for me,” said Protagonist.

Witch smiled at her. “It flies further over the heads of most of my companions. Except for Heir,” said Witch. “He is a promising heir.”

“Hey, do I call Heir heir? That’d be funny,” said Protagonist.

“Strangely enough, yes,” said Witch.

Protagonist laughed a little, and then noticed that Witch was looking at Protagonist with rather intense curiosity. “Um, does that mean something?”

“Perhaps,” said Witch. She stroked her chin thoughtfully, and stuck her pipe back into her mouth. “Protagonist,” she muttered; as if saying Protagonist’s name to herself alone. “Yes, it might just. Excuse me a moment; I wish to talk to my companions.”

Witch’s smoke-beast stirred and almost leapt forward, jumping her ahead to Hero and Heroine instantly. Immediately they struck up a conversation – Protagonist was pretty sure it was about her. What had Witch called her that she’d just heard as Protagonist?

After Witch hurried off Protagonist didn’t feel like starting another conversation. The world’s – well, region’s according to Witch – naming being anything but ‘this is a person’s name and I call them it’ was kind of a mind blowing concept. Especially since no-one knew or noticed. It could just be a joke if Witch had a sense of humour. She might have one, somewhere.

The group rode, and rode, and rode. Protagonist was really getting the hang of keeping in time with the up and down motion of the horse, which was making the ride comfortable and a little dull. The fields and trees they made their ways through were mostly empty; only the occasional animal hiding away before they passed. They were still relatively close to Town so the countryside was boringly similar to what Protagonist had seen many times before. The occasional raider tracks Protagonist spotted weren’t really enough to liven things up.

Watching Witch bustle around, talking to the other members of her party and then the villagers, mildly entertained her. She couldn’t really be checking what everyone thought of Protagonist, could she? The conversations were too short for them to be about the strange, complicated name thing, though.

The sun was getting low in the sky when the group finally finished travelling cross-country and reached Bridge Road. Witch was chatting with Hero and Heroine again after making her way through the entire party.

“Slow up,” called out Hunter, quickly bringing the party to a stop. “That’s their camp just over the bridge.”

Up ahead Protagonist could barely see what Hunter was pointing out. Just past the bridge there was a faint blob of light and a scattering of shapes that looked like tents – or at least more like tents than trees.

“Have they seen us?” asked Commander, sidling his mount up beside Hunter.

“No scouts that I can see,” said Hunter. “But we have to cross at the bridge – if we get seen crossing the river we’re dead.”

Commander nodded. “I have a plan, but we need to get to the bridge first,” he said. Raising his voice, he added, “Gear up everyone – armour and shields.”

Hero, who had joined Commander and Hunter at the front of the party said, “Oh, so you do have armour?”

“Of course,” said Commander. He seemed to be fighting back a sigh.

Protagonist zoned out of their continuing conversation as she headed to the rear of the party, where the packhorses were tied up behind Blacksmith. The rest of the villagers also converged there – Swordswoman took it upon herself to distribute the leather armour and shields out to everyone.

“Sorry it’s not quite one size fits all,” she said, “but there should be something close enough for everyone. There might not be a cap large enough for Narcissist’s head.”

The armour Protagonist was given seemed too big and bulky for her, but with a padded under layer and a few straps tightened it was just about a perfect fit. She felt well protected, which was a good enough reason to wear slightly ill-fitting armour. She hadn’t realised before, but a couple of parts of the jacket had patches of thin metal scales sewn on the inside to provide additional protection.

Protagonist remounted her horse before taking her shield, and sat with shield and spear in hand. She felt kind of like a badass. Charging in would probably be fun, as long as nothing went horribly wrong. Thinking of the fight itself set her heart racing.

Once everyone was armoured and back on their mounts the entire party converged on Commander. He looked each of them in the eye slowly and said, “I hope you’ll all make it through this.

“We’re going to make our way through the trees off to the side of the road so we can get a bit closer without getting seen. When we’re close enough, Witch will fill the air with smoke. That’s our cue to get onto the road and start travelling along it. We’ll have about two minutes until the smoke clears, so that’s how long we have to cross the bridge.

“The raiders aren’t stupid so some of them may head into the smoke to fight us. Don’t get caught up for too long, and keep your shields up in case they take some potshots at us. Hero and Heroine – you guys are in front. My men and I will be with the rest of your party, and the others will take up the rear. Witch will join us after she’s finished making the smoke.

“You guys”- Commander indicated Protagonist and the other villagers -“try not to get into the thick of it. The prisoners are on the camp edge against the river – get to there and release everyone. We’ll find the Good Harvest Bringer when the raiders are dead. Any questions?”

“Yes,” said Narcissist, “Why can’t I fight up the front? I’m a damn good-“

“Because you’re far less armoured,” said Commander. “If you had plate mail I’d stick you in the front as well, regardless of skill.” Narcissist made a sulky face but didn’t say anything else.

“Sounds fine to me!” said Hero, breaking the momentary silence. He pulled his helmet from between his knees and stuck it on his head.

Heroine did the same. “Shall we start moving, then?” she asked.

Commander nodded. “Alright. Follow me into the trees,” he said, nudging his horse into motion.

                Making their way through the scattered trees didn’t feel very stealthy. They covered only half the distance to the bridge before Protagonist could see the raider camp again. Now that she was closer she could see the tents, and even some little raider blobs wandering around. How Hunter had seen enough to know where the captives were from so far mystified Protagonist – even this close she could barely see the cluster of tied up individuals and the obvious guard-blobs.

                Despite the party feeling very visible, no alarm was raised in the raider camp until the party had reached much closer – almost four fifths of the way to the bridge. Faint shouts came from the raider camp as the little blobs began to rush about. “To the road!” ordered Commander – the first words spoken since the group had entered the trees.

                Everyone except Witch quickly guided their mounts onto the road and the majority (including Protagonist) raised their shields immediately. Protagonist snuck a glance back at Witch – the magician had her pipe out of her mouth and seemed to be coughing. Probably clearing her throat for a spell, thought Protagonist.

                Then, amidst the coughs, came a puff of smoke. A larger one followed, and then Witch puckered her lips around her pipe and took an incredible breath in. When she began to breathe out her breath came out as a huge cloud of smoke – and she didn’t seem to be stopping. Within moments a huge cloud of smoke had obscured Witch and was coming straight for the road.

                Holy crap, thought Protagonist. That’s amazing.

                The smoke swept across the road, hiding the raiders and everything else from sight. Protagonist gave it a sniff – it’d didn’t smell like anything. It certainly acted like smoke, though, rather than fog or anything else. It obscured everyone else almost completely.

“Be damned, get your shield up!” yelled Commander. Protagonist couldn’t see the culprit, but someone had definitely not raised their shield.

                “Shouldn’t we charge?” asked Hero loudly.

                “They’ll be shooting arrows just ahead – we need to wait until they can’t see at all,” said Commander. He was whispering to Hero, but the sound was carrying well. “And be quiet, or they’ll know where to shoot anyway.”

                Protagonist was pretty sure she caught Hero grumbling something rude about Commander getting intimate with goats in reply. A handful of clattering noises as arrows hit the bridge just up ahead served to underscore Commander’s point.

                The edges of the bridge came into sight on both sides through the smoke as fuzzy black shapes. It was really weird; the smoke had darkened the sky but enough of the sun’s light was coming through to illuminate the smoke as a mass of grey – and everything Protagonist could see nearby was a darker, black shape.

                About halfway across the bridge a new dark shape came into view up ahead – a person sized, and person shaped, one. “Now we ride!” yelled Hero excitedly, kicking his mount forwards and surging ahead. Heroine did the same a moment later, letting out a whooping war call. A shadowy blur of Hero’s sword tore through the dark shape. The shape tumbled to the ground, dead.

                Just up ahead Swordsman turned his head to Commander. Probably a quizzical look; he did those well. “Yes, this is part of the plan,” said Commander. He turned his head forwards, and two moments later yelled, “Charge!”

                The militia and the rest of the hero party kicked their mounts into action, as did Narcissist and Obsessive. The rest nudged their mounts into a canter as the charging group disappeared into the smoke. Sounds of battle could already be heard up ahead – and yelled numbers. It seemed Hero and Heroine were having a competition.

                Protagonist realised that the smoke was clearing – she could faintly see the charging group heading into the raider camp proper. Raiders seemed to be everywhere, charging towards those entering the camp. She could faintly tell who was who – Commander and the rest of the militia were holding together in a tight group, and the heroes were…

                The heroes were incredible. One of them – probably Heir – was knocking aside the blades of two opponents at once with a rapier. Traitor and Ruffian had hopped off their horses and were fighting side by side, two raiders already dead at their feet and the three attacking them on the defensive all at once. Further on she saw a dark female shape approach another and fell it with a single stroke. Heroine’s yell of “Three!” came right after.

                As the smoke continued to clear up the target of the four villagers came into sight – the captives and handful of raiders who’d held back to guard them.

Suddenly and arrow flew past Protagonist – from behind her. “Sorry about that!” said Hunter immediately. “I’ll stay here and take some shots; deal with the guards!”

Protagonist levelled her spear and kicked her horse into a gallop. Immediately it became very hard to stay mounted – but she didn’t need to stay on long. Blacksmith and Florist rode alongside her, spears levelled as well. The raiders up ahead split rather than taking the charge, scattering away from the horses.

                Rather than rein in her horse to stop as the other two villagers did, Protagonist guided hers around the prisoners – spotting and smiling at Spouse as she went – and charged one of the raiders on the other side. He hadn’t been expecting her to come right around but he still got out of the range of her spear – or so he thought. Protagonist hurled her spear with all her strength right at him.

Her spear tore right through him, killing him instantly. Protagonist slowed her horse as much as she could and leapt off, rolling to her feet beside her spear. With a satisfied smile she pulled her spear free, a bit of raider coming with it.

Looking around she caught sight of a raider rushing right at her, sword in hand. Her attacker looked absolutely furious and also oddly similar to the raider Protagonist had just killed. Perhaps they were brothers?

Taking advantage of her attacker’s rage, Protagonist dropped down and stuck the base of her spear into his path. He couldn’t stop himself in time and ran right into the spear, toppling over onto the ground. Protagonist was back on her feet immediately and buried the sharp end of her spear into the raider’s back. He screamed in pain and writhed on the ground. A follow up jerk made stilled him.

No other raiders were coming at her yet, but back on the other side of the prisoners Blacksmith and Florist had wound up outnumbered. They were just barely holding back three of the raiders despite being on horseback. As Protagonist took the scene in, an arrow suddenly appeared in the flank of one of the horses.

The horse reared up with a pained whinny. Its legs lashed out wildly as it reared, and iron-clad hoof caught one of the raiders on the head, knocking her out. Protagonist snorted in amusement, and moved on to a giggle as she heard Hunter’s voice call out, “Sorry!”

Still lacking an opponent Protagonist ducked in amongst the cluster of prisoners. Immediately she began cutting the ropes tying their hands and feet to stakes hammered into the ground.

“Oh, Protagonist!” said Spouse, leaning in her direction. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Working, Spouse,” replied Protagonist. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

Spouse nodded, and immediately started looking around for trouble. It was probably kind of adorable; Spouse got that way in awkward situations when he tried his hardest. Protagonist felt a pang of regret at missing it but she had to keep cutting.

“Thank you so much,” said the woman whose bonds she’d cut first. Protagonist didn’t know who she was – she’d just been the closest.

“Grab a weapon and-“ began Protagonist, as she shuffled over to the next captive.

“I can’t fight!” said the woman emphatically.

“And help me cut everyone free, for fuck’s sake!” grouched Protagonist.

“You best do what she says, she can be a bit nasty when she’s angry!” added Spouse.

“Not now, Spouse!” replied Protagonist, almost cutting herself when her spear slipped through part of the rope. Distractions and knifework… thought Protagonist.

Sufficiently chastised, Spouse kept his mouth shut as Protagonist quickly sliced through the rest of the bonds. The woman she’d freed had acquired a sword from one of the raiders Protagonist had killed and then made a complete mess of cutting someone else free – they weren’t cut free until the woman Protagonist had freed second showed up with another sword.

Protagonist cut Spouse free last. He leapt on her immediately, wrapping his arms around her and almost wrapping his gut around her spear. Cutting him free last had certainly been the right idea.

“Thank you!” he said, hugging her tightly.

“Maybe hug me after the rescue is done?” said Protagonist awkwardly. “There’s a guy who wants to stab us both to death less than ten metres away.” Protagonist indicated the two raiders who were still fight Blacksmith and Florist with her head.

“Oh, right,” said Spouse. “I’ll cheer you on!”

Smooth, thought Protagonist. After checking behind the prisoners – none of whom seemed very inclined to join the fight – for raiders, Protagonist charged forwards to help Florist and Blacksmith out.

“No help?” asked Blacksmith, incredulous. Protagonist shrugged briefly, then brought her spear to bear as one of the raiders turned to take her on.

The other raider dug her sword into Florist’s horse, killing it instantly. “Fuck!” yelled Florist, falling to the ground. Blacksmith immediately moved to help Florist, leaving Protagonist facing the other raider alone.

Her opponent was a scrawny man of about her height. He was wielding two weapons; an axe in one hand and a short sword in the other. His mouth formed a grin as he ran at her, swinging the axe wildly.

Protagonist took a step back and then a step forwards, positioning herself on the side the man had left open with his wild swing. Having recognised what was coming she dodged his sword as it sprung from beneath his arm in a stab.

With his arms foolishly crossed the raider was in no position to stop Protagonist from jamming her spear into his guts. After piercing the leather the spear just kept on heading in – the raider had obviously elected not to wear anything under his armour at all. With a confused look and a grunt, the man dropped his weapons and went limp. Protagonist’s spear came out just as easily as it had gone in.

Blacksmith had managed to dispatch the raider she and Florist had been fighting; although somehow her horse was dead as well. The air around them had cleared almost fully, allowing Protagonist to see the entire camp. Dead raiders were everywhere, and dead non-raiders… Nowhere. A couple of the militia seemed to be tending to wounds (in particular, a lightly wounded but hollering Narcissist), but no-one was dead.

“You’re a beast with that spear,” said Florist. He stared at Protagonist’s spear in admiration. “I saw you stick those two raiders – that was an amazing throw.”

“It was kinda stupid, though,” said Blacksmith. “You only have one spear.”

Protagonist smiled awkwardly. “You’re right,” she said.

“You were amazing!” yelled Spouse, hugging Protagonist from behind.

“Thanks dear,” said Protagonist.

Commander’s voice cut clearly through the diminishing din. “Prisoners to me, everyone else look for the artifact now!” he yelled. “That includes you hero types!”

Protagonist detached Spouse’s arms from around her waist. “You better go see him before he gets grumpy,” she said. “And I better start looking for the artifact.”

“’k,” said Spouse, bustling off with a smile. He waved his arm forwards and called out to the other prisoners – who had been hanging around aimlessly – to, “Come on!”

                “So. We recovered the artifacts and there were no deaths, a couple of minor injuries, and the raiders weren’t of the Terrible People,” said Commander. “This has gone very well. If I retired today I’d retire well.” He smiled and straightened up. “Mostly thanks to your help.”

                “We are honoured by your thanks,” said Heroine. She was smiling as well – Protagonist found it kind of off-putting how radiantly beautiful she was. Especially given how deadly she’d been in the fight earlier – apparently she and hero had killed six raiders each. “We thank you in turn for helping us recover what we were after; and for your cunning strategy.”

                “Any fight’s a good fight. Uh, if you’re in the right,” added Hero. “I mean, it was great to fight beside you for a good cause. You and your fellow townspeople make great warriors.” Traitor and Ruffian nodded along with everything the heroic duo said.

                “Especially you,” said Heir, pointing straight at Protagonist. “I’m impressed! I only got two of the bastards.” Protagonist smiled.

                “You have my thanks as well,” said Witch. She pulled her pipe across her mouth, shifting it from one side to the other so she could hold it in her other hand. “You have done the entire land a service in aiding us; a greater service than that you thank us for.”

                Commander looked at his fellow villagers, mounted alongside him (mostly on horses retrieved from the raiders). “I think we’re all honoured to have helped,” he said.

                “Make sure we’re in the story when a bard writes it!” interjected Narcissist.

                Commander sighed, and most of the group chuckled. “It is time for us to part ways – we hope to reach Big Farm before midnight,” said Commander.

                “And we wish to reach Neighbouring town tonight or in the morning,” said Hero. He held out his hand. “Perhaps I’ll – or even we’ll – come visit when our quest is over!”

                “It would be a cause for celebration,” said Commander. He took Hero’s hand with a smile – he was probably thinking of the excitement most of the village, and especially the children, would get out of such a band of heroes visiting.

                “Then we shall!” said Hero enthusiastically. He gave Commander’s hand and firm shake and then released his hand. “Well, goodb-“ he began, only to be interrupted by a smoke ring slapping into the side of his face. It exploded into a large cloud, and made Hero cough. Huh, thought Protagonist, so it’s not always breathable.

                “Forgetting something?” asked Witch, pointedly.

                “Oh, yes! Protagonist, you fought well today. Would you care to join us on our journey? Witch thinks you’ll accept for some reason,” said Hero.

                Taken by surprise, Protagonist looked to Commander. “We’ve done what we came to do,” he said, “so It’s up to you.”

                “Protagonist?” said Spouse. He’d been sitting quietly beside her on horseback, waiting until the two groups split up to chat.

                “Um,” said Protagonist. “Do you mind, Spouse?”

                Spouse looked right at her. It was one of the few times he ever had; and it made her feel highly conflicted. After a little while, he said, “If you love them let them fly.” He sounded kind of sad.

                Protagonist looked over at Hero. “Sure,” she said, “why not.”

Manhunter

Manhunter

                Riding a horse at a gallop was a vastly different experience to the handful of other times Tadyel had ridden. At least she didn't have to control the horse - she spent the ride with her arms tightly around Vanna, holding on for dear life. The speed and the bouncing and everything terrified Tadyel. It felt like she'd hurtle off at any moment and slam into the terrain as it raced past.

                It was also hard to hear the discussion that was taking place. The wind whipped past her ears fast enough to obscure what was being said, and she completely missed a lot of it. From what she had caught one of the guardswomen in the group was concerned about the horses running this fast for so long - they weren't bred for endurance at speed. Frennet had said something about the head of a snake, too.

                Time flew by like the ground underfoot as Tadyel tried to calm her near panic. I've been in fights where I could have died! Calm down! she thought. It was true; but in those fights her nerves had been quashed by adrenaline and the immediate threats. A constant state of high nervousness about falling from the horse wasn't treating her well.

                One of the guards yelling "There they are!" cut through her mental mantra and soothed her nerves with the relief of the imminent dismounting (or at least slowing down).

                "When we get closer, archers off horses! Vanna, Dorothea and Ilwinne - circle around behind and take down anyone who flees! For Green Creek - charge!" yelled Frennet. Tadyel's stomach lurched as Vanna turned their mount off to one side, separating them from the dozen horse strong main group. Dot and Ilwinne, each with another guard behind them on their mounts, split off as well.

                Peering around Vanna let Tadyel see the fleeing Followers and their 'mercenary' assistance. All told there were probably twenty of them, six Followers and roughly a dozen others. They were making their way up a small hill that had just come into view through a patch of trees, and it didn't look like they had noticed their pursuers. Tadyel wondered where Vanna intended to take them - the other side of the hill, maybe?

                Tadyel's guess proved right - once the six mounted archers were a fair distance along the trees they turned again, moving parallel to the other group. It would take them around the hill far quicker than trying to charge over it.

                The fleeing group had noticed their pursuers. A handful stopped and begun readying themselves for a fight; the rest had begun to run.

                "That's weird," muttered Vanna. Tadyel just barely caught it.

                "What's weird?" yelled Tadyel.

                "A couple of the Followers are getting ready to fight as well. Also that they're running - they can't hope to get far, even if the rest slow the guard down," said Vanna.

                The distant battle was joined halfway up the hill just as the three archer pairs came around to the far side. At the base of the hill sat a small camp, reasonably well hidden amongst a copse of trees. A dozen horses were standing around, mostly tied to one another. They were kept under control by a pair of mercenaries who were busily untying them.

                Vanna muttered something that Tadyel was fairly sure was very rude under her breath. She turned their mount again, moving directly towards the camp. "Nail the horses!" she yelled. "They'll bolt!"

                Somehow Vanna made the horse go even faster. Isn't there a maximum speed horses can travel at? thought Tadyel, gripping Vanna tighter in shock. Vanna coughed politely, and Tadyel loosened her grip embarrassed.

                Only a few moments had passed when Vanna pulled the horse to a halt and pulled Tadyel's arms apart. Immediately after she vaulted off gracefully and said, "Fall off."

                Tadyel obliged, tumbling sideways off the horse into Vanna's waiting arms. On her feet in moments she levelled her crossbow towards the mercenary camp, Dot and Vanna doing the same. The guard archers had already fired, their bows sending arrows flying towards the two hundred metre distant camp.

                Shouts came from both the camp and the fleeing group who had just crested the hill. The first volley of arrows missed, but one of the crossbows that were fired moments later found its mark. The struck horse whinnied in pain, causing the rest to edge away nervously as the mercenaries tried to calm them.

                "Can you hurry the fuck up?" yelled one of the mercenaries, his words somehow catching on the wind and reaching Tadyel clearly. The fleeing group ran down the hill at full speed, moving remarkably fast with gravity on their side.

                Two more horses were hit, one catching an arrow across its throat. It panicked, rearing up as its blood sprayed out over one of the others. The faster thinking of the two mercenaries started splitting up the horses, but she only managed to keep three - one uninjured horse ran, followed immediately by the others. Two horses were dead - the one with the cut throat and another from several hits. The group of fleeing horses split up just as Tadyel finally sent her second bolt flying.

                To her great surprise the bolt found its mark - the male mercenary crumpled. The female ducked behind the horses, dragging the three of them towards some trees despite their protests. One took an arrow to the flank and reared up, forcing the woman to release it.

                The Followers and their companions reached the camp, running through it towards the remaining two horses. They ignored the tents and the rest of the camp completely - whatever was in them was far less valuable than their lives.

                Four people mounted the horses, two mercenaries and two Followers. They started galloping away immediately as the rest huddled up behind some trees to plan their next move. "Mount back up!" yelled Vanna, cupping her hands for Tadyel.

                It took an embarrassingly long time for Tadyel to mount the horse - she managed to fall off the first time in a rush - so her and Vanna's horse was a fair distance behind the other two when they started to move. It had taken them long enough that the combined force in the camp had started rushing towards them, only to split up and head towards the various spooked horses that had now calmed down enough to stay put.

                As she looked back Tadyel spotted the rest of the guard force cresting the hill themselves, archers beside sword-wielding riders on horseback. It was an impressive sight, and the charge even more so.

                "Eyes forward, Gel," said Vanna. "Grab the lance and level it on my right side; I'll swing to the left." Vanna had taken her sword in her left hand while holding the reins in her right. Tadyel did as instructed, lifting the lance out of the saddle's holder.

                "How do I do this?" asked Tadyel. She'd seen mounted lancers before - the Thrath had some - but she had never had any mounted combat training herself.

                "Hold it steady and point it at them," said Vanna. "If we come up behind them, stab with it."

                "Okay," replied Tadyel. A large bump in the ride made her realise that she was now only holding Vanna with one hand. "If I stay on."

                Tadyel peered around Vanna again. They were gaining on the other riders slowly - they seemed unwilling to push their mounts quite as hard. Dot's rear rider held a lance as well, whereas Ilwinne's was taking wild bow shots that missed quite broadly.

                Shortly after the fight behind them went out of sight - Tadyel had been sneaking glances - the two enemy riders wheeled around. The back rider on each hopped off, spear in hand, and the remaining riders charged with swords in hand.

                Ilwinne and Dot took on the riders and Vanna guided her horse between them to charge the two on foot. Initially it seemed as if they'd go wide around both of them, but Vanna gently nudged the horse over until they were right on target. All Tadyel had to do was hold the lance steady-

                And it stabbed right through the spear-wielder on the left, tearing itself from Tadyel's grasp as it did so. A last minute bump had made the lance dip low and the mercenary woman had ducked down in an attempt to get close enough to use her spear. She crumpled and dropped her spear, probably dead already.

                Tadyel didn't see what happened with the spear-wielder on the other side, but as they came about she saw that he'd been cut lightly in the shoulder. He glared at them and hefted up his spear, and threw it as they charged towards him again. It missed, and Vanna cut him down with ease.

                Vanna pulled the horse to a stop and Tadyel took in what had happened to the rest of the fight. The woman mercenary rider - she looked like the one who'd been handling the horses - had her hands up, Dot's sword at her throat. Thinking back, Tadyel had caught something like a woman yelling 'surrender!', although she'd figured it was a request rather than a forfeit.

                The other rider was dead, but so too was the guardsman who'd been mounted behind Ilwinne. Ilwinne's horse was injured as well, a huge gash in its side. The guardswoman had already mounted her dead opponent's horse. Vanna guided their horse over to the prisoner.

                "Get off the horse," she said. The woman went to nod, then remembered that there was still a blade at her throat.

                "Uuuh," she forced out.

                "Drop the sword, Dot," said Vanna. Dot smirked and complied, and the mercenary hopped off the horse.

                She started talking immediately. "I'm just in charge of the horses and I'm very sorry for helping these miscreants and I'll tell you what-"

                "I only care about whether you're Thrath," said Vanna.

                "Thrath?" asked the woman. "The people who invaded the south? No, why would I be?"

                "The Followers of Ormgus were controlled by the Thrath, and here you are - with others - rescuing their leaders," said Vanna. "It is likely that those you were fleeing with were Thrath, unless they were hired for the same purpose as you." Vanna's words made Tadyel remember something - the mercenary that she'd hit had reminded her of someone.

                "Um, well," said the woman. "I was, um, paid a lot not to ask questions."

                Tadyel carefully dismounted, whispering, "I want to check something," to Vanna.

                "Tell me everything," said Vanna. "Dot and you"- she pointed at the guardsman mounted behind Dot -"help Ilwinne with the bodies."

                As the mercenary started to babble - initially trying rather hard to figure out where to start - Tadyel headed over to the mercenary she'd impaled. They were definitely dead, still lying exactly as they had fallen. Tadyel wedged her right foot under the body and heaved her over.

                The face that stared up at her was one she recognised. It was the traitor, the Thrath, from her village - Unthun. Tadyel had only talked to her a handful of times, as their families had a couple of links. Primarily, their mothers had been friends. Unthun had kept herself apart from others, but Tadyel had done the same. It was considered a good idea given the frequency of killings or injuries dealt by the Thrath.

                Tadyel smiled. Of all the people she could've killed, killing this one Thrath made her happy. Her treachery had caused her village to lose several people to the Magi's fell needs as raw material for their constructs. This was revenge and justice, for them and in part for everything the Thrath had done. Or it felt like it, at least.

                "Do you recognise her?" asked Vanna, coming up behind Tadyel on her mount. A glance backwards let Tadyel see Dot binding the mercenary woman, the bodies already gathered up.

                "Yes," said Tadyel, "It's Unthun."

                "The traitor from your village?"

                "Yes. I guess this is what she's been doing after she turned traitor."

                Vanna smiled. "It's good that we got her."

                "Yeah. What's next, though? Have we won? Will the Thrath come for us?"

                Vanna shrugged. "Probably. They've turned Green Creek against them, so they won't come for us. There might be struggles in the other towns, but really, we just need to wait for the war. A lot of admin work and keeping an eye on things, training. It'll be good, or better. I can get married now that my secret is out, and you'll have time to settle in properly, maybe even start a relationship of your own with Ilwinne or so-"

                "Shutup and help me get on your horse."