A light breeze. Her hair swaying along with it. She listened to the children. Playing. Laughing. Chasing one another. Tag, you're it! Oh no, Ramon's the
monster. Run! Run! Ha, ha! Look out, Jamie! He's coming for you! Ah! Tag, you're it!
The water. Licking her boots. Warm. And red.
Birds. Flying out from the trees across the lake. A dozen of them. A hawk. Diving from far above. Catching one in its talons. The prey struggled. But it stood no chance.
The setting sun. Even farther beyond the lake and the trees. Like an eye. Whose light was fading. Succumbing.
A scream. From back in town. And then, suddenly, many more.
Anima turned around. The children stopped playing. Their mothers and fathers standing up and looking on with rising worry and mounting fear.
Flickers of orange. Of fire.
Anima drew her sword and sprinted up the beaten path. Running as fast as she could for half a minute to reach the town proper. And she emerged onto the singular dirt road from between two houses. Skidded to a stop. Eyes scanning.
They had come, their total number uncertain. And they came into town from all sides, torches and swords and bows in hand. They had silently and carefully gotten into position to surround and invade the town in unison without being detected until it was too late. As if they knew well the terrain around Iron Lake.
Anima knew what she would do. Where she would go. Who she would bask in now.
The door to Anima's left burst open. A woman, collapsing out of it. Reaching for her. "Please! Help me!" she said. Before a bandit approached from behind and ran his sword through her back out her chest. The woman's husband, limping and with blood coating his shirt, stumbled from behind the bandit and punched him. They fell. And fought.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
A torch sailed overhead. Tumbling end over end in the air. Landing on another house. Setting flame to the thatched roof. The family inside ran out. A man, a woman, two sons. Staying low and running behind and past Anima. The children whimpering with fear.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
A miner ran up toward her from up the road. Gestured wildly. Said, "For the love of the gods, lass, run! Run! R--" And an arrow hit him in the neck. He fell down. Convulsing. She stepped over his body. His hand gracing the back of her boot. Fingers sliding away.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
Arrows streaked past her. Close. Very close. Tails of furious air in their wake. Deadly whistling. Shrill. As each missed only just. One brushed her hair. Flapping the lot of it violently backward.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
A growl of rage. To her right. A slight glance. A bandit, drawing his sword, brandishing a deep scowl. "You're mine, you bitch," he said. Taking a few steps toward her. But a burly miner tackled him from the side. Landed on top of him as they hit the ground. Punched down hard into the bandit's face.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
Some of the fires were small. Others raged. A man, bursting out of his house, to her right. The door and the roof and the man, all on fire. He shrieked in agony as the flames consumed him. Waving his arms around in panic. He dropped to his knees. And then flat on his face in the dirt road. Fire rising from the back of his shirt.
Anima walked. She knew where to go.
And she saw him then. Peter. Coming into her field of vision and hurrying up the steps to his tavern. He burst into the tavern and threw the door shut behind him, but it bounced and was left ajar. She hurried. Her walk becoming a jog becoming a run. Closed the rest of the distance to his tavern fast. And she hopped up the steps and stood by the door, the sound of voices from the inside arresting her. Her ear to small opening of the ajar door, her eyes out on the road.
Messer. His voice inside. Saying, "...of a bitch, don't act so surprised."
Peter: "This isn't justice. This is murder."
Messer: "You were our friend!
My friend! And you sold us out! You betrayed every man who worked in Kessel Mine!"
Peter: "I did no such thing."
Messer: "How much did the Baron pay you? Hmm?"
Peter: "How much were you all demanding for the life of an innocent boy? Hmm?"
A laugh. The sound of spitting. And Messer said: "Here's what I know. Your time's come, old friend. Yours and the Baron's. This is for Christoff, for Yorick, and for all the rest of the lads. You may've betrayed them, but now...now I'm here to avenge them."
* * * * *
And they ate.
The mercenary
Udalof didn't have much to say, and he had even said so himself. So Regis, as he usually did, filled the time with talk of his dealings with other
towns in the Reach and with the merchants and ironworkers and steelmakers of
Alliria. Serena would nod and give her input and advice here and there, as she was want to do. Derrin, usually much more active and curious and questioning, was silent as he ate. The poor boy. If only Theo hadn't faltered in his duty to Michael. A single lapse, and now, Derrin would have to live the rest of his life deprived of his brother. A tragedy, all around.
And something happened as Regis began to feel full and satisfied.
A scream. From outside the manor. And then, suddenly, many more.
Regis narrowed his brow. Derrin froze in mid-bite of his meat. Serena glanced about.
And she said, "What do you--?"
The glass behind Regis shattered and came crashing into the dining room as a man, rough-looking and with his wooden round shield in front of him, leaped through the huge window and inside. He charged the Baron's seat. Shield raised.
Another two bandits came into view outside the window. Bows in hand. Arrows nocked and drawn. Taking aim on the fear-frozen Derrin and the shrieking Serena. The one aiming at Derrin noticed Udalof, and quickly readjusted his aim to the mercenary.
The smell of smoke from outside, now that the glass had been broken.
The attack on the manor one part of the abrupt bedlam erupting in Iron Lake.