Between Dark and Light (20 page)

“Please, don’t let them see what’s out there. None of you need to see that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Yes,” Molgheon said.

“I want to see them. I hate them.”

Molgheon reached out and stroked the young dwarf’s cheek. The girl flinched from the touch but didn’t pull away.

“Please, don’t let the little ones see this.”

The girl nodded and sat beside them. She pulled a blade of grass from the ground and showed them how to tie it in a knot without breaking the blade. Molgheon stepped onto the road, where the human and dwarf lay dead, their dark blood pooling around their bodies. She walked over to the child still struggling against the net and knelt.

“You’re safe, now,” Molgheon cooed.

“Let me out of this thing,” the girl sobbed.

“I will, but please stay calm. The little ones are safe, but I don’t want them to see these bodies.”

“The youngest is my brother. Did they hurt him?”

“No, they’re all okay. When I let you out, go to them and keep them in the woods until I come get you.”

The child nodded, stifling her sobs, so Molgheon undid the knot and freed her. The girl wrapped her arms around Molgheon’s neck and hugged her, sniffling on her shoulder. Molgheon patted her back and whispered that she was safe. After a few heartbeats, the girl pulled back, her tears subsiding. Molgheon pointed to the woods, and the girl wiped her face before walking in that direction. Molgheon climbed into the bed and checked on the boy who had been struck by the human. He was dazed and had a large lump on the side of his head but didn’t seem seriously hurt.

“Can you stand?” Molgheon asked.

“I think so,” he replied. From his thin beard, Molgheon figured he was at no more than fourteen.

“I need you to help me move these bodies before the young ones come out of the woods.”

They climbed out of the bed and dragged each body from the road into the brush where Molgheon had come down the hill, and she managed to salvage two of her arrows from them. After they were moved, Molgheon had the boy clean as much blood from the seat as possible. As he cleaned, she removed the door from the cage and dragged it to the bodies. The children would have to ride in the cage, but she didn’t want them closed up. She then gathered the two nets from the road and tossed them on top of the door. She covered the bodies, door, and nets with as many leaves as she could scrape from the forest floor. The camouflage wouldn’t hide them long, but she hoped it would buy enough time to get the children home safely.

She stared towards where Torkdohn had run and burned to chase after him, but she couldn’t leave these children alone, especially if a sentry happened by and saw the carnage. He was likely heading for Sturdeon, and after the children were home, she would find him there. Then, she would finish this. If she had learned anything during the Resistance, it was to maintain patience when hunting a foe. He was lucky she had lost her balance. Otherwise, he, too, would be laying in that pile. As she stared at the woods, the boy moved beside her.

“It’s as clean as I can get it,” he said.

Molgheon nodded, barely hearing.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” the boy asked, gazing at her in awe.

Molgheon turned and looked at him but didn’t answer. When she was his age, she had already been fighting in the Resistance for a full year. She had learned to shoot because she had to, and she happened to be good at it because of her eyesight and steady hands. Over the years, she had killed hundreds with a bow and arrow, but she felt no pride about it. War had been thrust upon her. Given the choice she would’ve chosen a peaceful life, and here was a young pup who had just barely escaped a lifetime of slavery admiring her ability to kill. He knew nothing of what it meant to take another’s life, and even if she spent the rest of the day trying to explain, he wouldn’t grasp the gravity. Finding her patience, she took a deep breath and asked where they lived.

“About a mile from here,” he said. “We live in a small village just off the main road.”

“Go get the others,” she said.

He ran to the woods and returned shortly, leading the younger dwarves. Molgheon helped them into the cage, explaining that they had to hurry. The two oldest girls resisted climbing into the cage, but when Molgheon showed them she had removed the door, they relented. Molgheon told the boy to get in the seat with her to show her the way. He nodded and rushed to the front. Molgheon checked the four horses to make sure they had calmed down from the commotion and climbed into the seat, laying her bow beside her. She undid the brake and snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward, and she worked the team into a steady trot.

After a half mile, the boy showed her the path to turn onto, and within a few minutes, they reached the village. Dwarves working in their fields looked up from their harvest and followed the wagon to the boy’s house. By the time Molgheon stopped the team, more than a dozen dwarves were walking towards her. She latched the brake and hopped down, leaving her bow in the seat. The boy jumped down, too, and ran to the dwarves who were approaching.

“What’s going on?” one Ghaldeon asked, his face weathered from years in the sun.

“We got jumped down at the stream by slave traders,” the boy replied excitedly. “But she saved us.”

As the dwarves questioned the boy, Molgheon helped the children from the bed. The women came from their houses and gathered around, asking what was happening. The children ran to their parents and wrapped their arms around them, and everyone talked at once. Molgheon whistled sharply to silence them.

“None of you are safe here,” she said. “Four slave traders are dead, and when the soldiers find them, they will come looking.”

“I know you,” one of the women said. “We served together some twenty years ago.”

Molgheon studied her face but didn’t recognize the dwarf.

“We need to listen to her,” the woman said. “She’s a member of the Resistance.”

“Where do we go?” one of the men asked.

“Do any of you have kin in the mountains?” Molgheon asked.

“I do,” another dwarf said. “It’s a couple day’s walk.”

“How many of you live in this village?” Molgheon asked.

“This is just about all of us,” the one who recognized her said. “Maybe five or six more.”

“Do your kin have room for all of you? A barn or something?”

“I suppose,” the dwarf said.

“Gather your things and get moving,” Molgheon said.

The crowd began squabbling, some saying they couldn’t leave their crops and others saying they weren’t scared. Molgheon whistled again and spoke sharply:

“Those of you who want to live, get moving. The rest of you, if you’d rather watch your family die, then stay here and wait.”

“Gather what you can carry,” one of the older men said. “I’ve seen enough death in my time.”

In groups of three and four, the dwarves went to their homes, leaving Molgheon alone at the wagon. She went to the front and rummaged under the seat, searching for rations. She found a box of dried meats and gobbled down three pieces, barely tasting the food. As it hit her stomach, she realized just how hungry she was. She located a waterskin and took a long drink. The water cooled her parched throat, and she leaned against the wagon, exhausted from the weeks of walking on barely any food. She needed a good night’s rest before resuming her hunt.

“I just wanted to thank you,” a woman said, walking towards her with a basket full of food and clothes. “One of the girls you saved is my only child.”

“It’s just lucky I happened along when I did.”

“Can I do anything to repay you?”

“Do you have any arrows,” Molgheon asked.

“My cousin might. She’s a hunter. Let me check.”

The woman hurried off, and several more of the families returned to the wagon to wait for everyone. One by one, the children she had rescued came to her and hugged her, and each of their parents thanked her and offered her gifts. Molgheon politely turned them down, but then she asked if anyone had a barn she could sleep in.

“You can sleep in our house,” one of the fathers said.

“If they come tonight, they’ll search the houses first. If I’m in a barn, I have a better chance of hearing them before they find me.”

“I reckon that makes sense,” he said. “I’d be proud if you’d stay in my barn.”

He pointed to an old building on the back side of the village, one the farthest structures from the main road.

“That’s perfect,” Molgheon said, shaking his hand.

“Here’s a dozen arrows,” the mother from before said. Her cousin was beside her and handed Molgheon the quiver.

“That’s all I have.”

“This’ll do,” Molgheon said, taking six arrows from the quiver.

“Are you sure?”

Molgheon nodded and thanked both women.

“What happened to your face?” the dwarf who had served with her asked.

“Just battle scars,” Molgheon muttered, turning away.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude,” the dwarf said, touching her arm. Molgheon recoiled from the touch. “It’s just that those are fresh scars.”

Molgheon turned and faced her, trying desperately to remember the woman, but no memory would come.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I shouldn’t have blurted that out.”

“I guess I look hideous, huh?”

The dwarf held up her right hand, revealing that her index and middle fingers were gone.

“I was an archer, too, before they caught me.”

Molgheon stared at her hand and thought about Torkdohn waving the bolt cutters in her face. She touched the dwarf’s shoulder and smiled.

“We all have scars,” the woman said.

One of the men called out that everyone was accounted for and that they should get moving. Molgheon reminded them to stay off main roads and cut cross country. The dwarf whose family they were going to led the way, and the group started out, waving goodbye and thanking her as they passed. The former archer remained beside her until everyone had passed and hugged her goodbye before falling in line. Molgheon watched them leave, hoping they would make it. Once they were beyond the last field, she unlatched the brake and led the horses to the barn. When the wagon was inside the main stall, she unhitched the team and led them outside to roam free. When the horses were all in the pasture, she searched through the barn and found fresh vegetables that didn’t need cooking. She ate until her stomach ached and then curled up in the bed of the wagon and fell asleep.

***

She awoke with a start and sat up. The morning light shone through slits in the barn, and she realized she had slept at least twelve hours. She strained her ears for any sound, but all was quiet. Slowly, she climbed down from the wagon, stiff from sleeping on the hard wood, and crept around, looking through the slits for any sign of soldiers. Once she was satisfied no one was there, she packed as many dried meats as her pack would hold and retrieved her bow from the seat. She counted the arrows in her quiver to make sure none had spilled out while she slept, but all ten were there. She crept to the stall door and opened it enough to squeeze through.

In the pasture, the horses grazed on the dew damp grass, and the deserted village was eerily still. She scanned the area for any motion, but other than a few chickens running around, all was calm. Using the sun as her guide, she walked in the direction of Sturdeon. Like the villagers, she would have to avoid main roads until she reached the city. Then, she would have to sneak into town during the night. During the Resistance, she had done it several times, so she wasn’t too concerned with getting into the city. Once she got there, however, searching for Torkdohn would be another matter.

She used to be acquainted with a few tavern owners, dwarves who might know where to find him, if any of them were still there. Her biggest concern was that as a slave trader Torkdohn probably knew more people in Sturdeon than she did, and the kinds of dwarves he would know were an unsavory lot, thieves and murderers and thugs. She had no money to bribe them, so she would have to be on her guard to navigate the places she would have to search. But she would find him, and when she did, he wouldn’t get away again. As she entered the forest at the end of the pasture, she adjusted her pack and bow before stooping beneath a low-lying branch. Her body ached from the hard sleep, and she didn’t look forward to struggling through the dense brush for three or four days. Focusing on her training, she picked her way through the forest silently and ignored the stiffness in her joints and muscles. They would loosen up soon enough. The important thing was not to get caught before she made it inside the city.

Chapter 12

Darkness Spreads

Bordorn and Krondious crouched at the bridge just outside Horseshoe Bend. Behind them, Roskin sat on the ground, shivering and shaking even though the temperature hovered in the mid-fifties. Lorac stood behind him, gazing into the distance, his aged face expressionless as it had been for most of the trip. They had decided to enter town under cover of darkness, in case the king had sent troops to watch for them, and as they crouched, Krondious peered through the dark to look for any sign of danger. After a few moments, he signaled all clear to Bordorn, so the Ghaldeon rose and led them into town.