Within the span of my perception, I felt every life nearby.

The caravaners in the barn, pulsing madly; those in the yard in front of me, the vision of their movements slightly mismatched from the fires of their life-force; those atop the wagon-wall; dozens upon dozens of soldiers, their slow spread barely arrested according to Tully’s hurled threats. And then small animals, fleeing from the ruckus; the faint lives of insects crawling across trees and under dirt, mindless of human affairs; a bird in-flight in the sky.

For the first time, I mutely comprehended that my sixth-sense had nearly tripled in size since I’d first acquired it, over a decade ago. A matter of ability and practice, perhaps. Or something else entirely. Yet whatever curiosity I possessed was overshadowed by the vast orchestra of life played around me. Its chords, its melody, was the great redeemer. No song could play forever, though, and that truth knotted my guts.

Amidst the fugue of my perception, Kit and Rita exchanged words. The guard gestured towards me, and Kit tersely turned away, then began scaling the wagon-wall. Rita shook her head wearily, glanced my way, and marched over to one of the people assembling the oversized crossbow: Ronnie, Whip, and the nomads among them.

The one she addressed was one of the quiet men, yet seemed far more engaged than the other two dreamy individuals. The guard interrupted the man as he berated Taja – the youngest of the nomad siblings – who scurried into the barn, fat tears falling from his eyes. The man’s large chin tilted towards me as they spoke. A few muttered words I didn’t care enough about to focus on, and they were walking towards me.

“Ey big man,” Rita greeted.

I grunted. Their bodies concealed her movements, but the touch of skin against fabric was barely audible as she tapped her partner on the back.

“C’mon, Vin,” she repeated. “Get yerself together, arite?”

Irritation snapped me into my body. “What? Why’re you- ”

“Everyone here needs ya.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling she was right. “I didn’t agree to fight Baylar, Rita,” I muttered, battling against the shame weighing my words. “I’m not getting involved with this.”

“If you don’t, we’re all gonna end up with our heads on pikes.” Sorrow pierced me at the thought. “Yer team; th’ kids; me guards; all o’ us gone, rottin’ away wit’ th’ rising sun.”

A sudden burst of sadness whipped me back the other way. I felt like a doll on a string, pulled whatever way my emotions demanded.

The notion pulled my eyes onto the man. His protruding chin. His large forehead. The rage that filled me incinerated whatever insidious feeling had crawled into me. Before Rita could react, I surged forward, grabbing the shorter man around the neck and lifting him off the ground.

The guard-captain swore ferociously, and raised her crossbow.

“You shoot me, and I break his neck,” I spat. Lethargy filled my limb – he’d abandoned any pretence of subtlety. I flexed my fingers into the flesh of his throat. “Tell your pet Dolphinblood to stop whatever he’s doing.”

A pause.

I began counting down. “Five; Four; Three- “

“Ox’s bloody balls, alright!” Rita waved towards the man. “Stop, ‘fore he kills ya.”

The man gurgled, and the intruding feelings fell away. I’d had enough of those for one lifetime.

With a heave, I grasped the man’s belt and hurled him a few paces away. “If I feel even a whiff of that, I’ll take your neck off your shoulders. You hear me?”

He looked towards Rita.

“What happened to subtlety, huh?” Her voice was full of anger.

“You said t’make it quick!”

I stepped towards him, and the Dolphinblood scrambled away, back towards the contraption. His two companions watched, blinking owlishly.

The guard’s voice turned me back. “Hard t’find good help, eh?”

“You piece of filth.” I turned my body her way.

She raised her crossbow. “Easy there, big man.”

“Was he playing us the entire time?” I spat.

“He’s just here to direct our Owlbloods. When you get tha’ much Yoot into ya…” She spun a finger next to her head in a ‘coo-coo’ gesture, keeping the other hand firmly on her weapon. “It’s hard t’get you t’do anything. Bit of Wump makes it easier.”

“Oh,” I tersely mused, “so he’s never used his powers on anyone else here?”

A half-beat passed before she could create a response, and that half-beat was all the answer I needed.

“So he has.” I turned my body away from the small woman and swore ferociously. If only I could take the bastards apart, piece by piece…

“I-it’s not like he can control you, jus’ your feeling. An’ believe you me: it wasn’t my idea.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” I spat. “You used us, and even now, when everything’s on the table, you’re still trying to play me.”

She flinched.

I scoffed. “The godsdamned audacity.”

My hands trembled as I imagined all the ways I could hurt her, and how I would delight in doing so. I stifled the feeling, then wondered if it had been stifled for me.

The guard lowered her crossbow. “Look, Vin,” Rita carefully began, “everything I was trying to say is true. We’re goin’ up the hill- “

“What?” I interrupted. “Hundreds of meters along the road, against Spider knows how many archers? You’ll die.”

A pained expression found its way onto her face. “Tully’s got a plan that’ll blunt some of the losses, but…” She nodded. “People will die. But if you’re there, it’ll be less of ‘em.”

Turning away, I shook my head.

“Vin.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “It’ll be all people you know. Your friends. An’ there’s no other way t’run. You’re part of this, like it or not.”

“They haven’t seen my face,” I spat. “And I’m a Lizardblood – I could outpace anyone else here.”

That was truer than she could know. With Dure’s vitality fuelling me, Kani’s dexterity guiding me, and Enn’s power pushing me, I was likely one of the best endurance runners on the continent. Even without having a strong version of either three.

“You don’t know that. An’ even so, you’ll still have t’go up the hill.”

I rubbed my eyes. Breaking their blockade in any other direction would be reckless. With the group taking their attention…

My stomach churned at the thought. It was grotesque, but what else was there to do? Take charge of the entire situation? The last time that happened, my mother had died; I’d turned into a monster; my son had suffered the…

A shudder wracked my body.

“So?” Rita pushed. “Are you gonna leave us t’die?”

“To the town up the hill,” I managed, “and that’s- “

***

“- it?” I said sarcastically.

I… No, Gast nodded, her fleshy neck wobbling. I was somewhat surprised the wagon’s bonnet held her weight. “That is it.”

“I was bein’…” A shallow groan escaped me as I crawled forward atop the wagon, eyes peeking at the army in front of us. “Never mind.”

It was an army. Or whatever it was called – I’d never really absorbed the dozens of names Mother had for a group of angry armed warriors. By Gast’s estimation, there were sixty-four soldiers in-rank, and another seven as a guard around their leader. From what Mother had explained of standard military groupings, that meant four squads. Depending on how much independence Baylar liked, each squad might be further sub-divided into four – meaning they’d work better when their lieutenant got stabbed. I’d asked Davian to double-check the math.

From what I figured, there were probably a handful of other in the trees as well. No way of seeing in the dark.

I shuffled backwards, my legs dropping over the top of the wagon.

So probably around forty footmen, thirty archers, and six or seven Blooded. Versus four guards, Tully, some creepy men, four Strains, and me. Vin was out, and just the thought of our little chat made my teeth grind. I’d lost a handful of minutes trying to pull him from the ditch he’d dug, but only came out dirtier for it.

A faint part of me hoped he’d pull through anyway. Was stupid to expect better, but I did.

He’d made some good points – better than I could’ve known. I’d blustered to Vin, but these were not good numbers. I’d never faced a group this large – twenty was the biggest, and I still thought I’d die. Largest I’d ever run away from was around forty. And from what I could tell, none of the Strains were killers, neither.

They probably had one or two under their belt – I figured only the most sheltered noble’d never killed before; couldn’t really imagine otherwise – but they hadn’t made a habit of it. Which was good in most cases, because murderers tended to be piles of filth, but very bad here. Lack of practice tended to freeze hands when they needed to move.

Tully had a plan. Probably a good one, if she were really a Spiderblood like Vin thought. Right now, the plan looked a lot like having a chat.

“You’ll have no trouble identifying Neelam Heltia as a traitor to humanity, then,” came a distant voice.

Tully, despite laying flat on her belly, managed to project her voice far better. “Neelam Heltia is a traitor to humanity,” she stated flatly. “May we leave?”

The man scoffed. “And your threat of exploding us should be forgotten, then?”

“Absolutely.”

A short pause. Spears rattled as seventy soldiers began moving, arraying their massive power against our untrained and meagre forces. My knuckles clenched around my sword so tightly they ached.

Then Tully grinned widely. “Take one more step closer. Be my guest.”

The sounds stopped.

“A shame,” she stated.

The commander’s response was far more furious than it had been, moments ago. “My men will encircle your position.”

“Just so long as you’re willing to spend most of their lives.”

He was briefly at a loss for words. Another minute or two was bought as he halted; to think, confer with advisors or simply rally his forces. I glanced downwards, noting Vin exchanging terse words with Rita. A clank jerked my head away: Whip, our leech-y guests – minus their kid brother – and the creeps had finished putting together the oversized crossbow. Intricate patterns flared purple, then faded to a duller glow. I tried to look closer, but doing so made my head ache.

“You figure that’s done?” I asked Gast.

She turned around to look at it, then nodded.

My foot shook repeatedly. “An’ they’ll fire it soon?”

“Probably.”

I turned to the rounder woman. “You know that?”

The Strain’s eyes hadn’t left the weapon’s runes. “It will explode if they don’t.”

I paused. “How’d it not blow up when it was in th’ wagon?”

“It wasn’t together.”

“O-kay…” I drawled. Awkwardly, I turned towards Davian, on my other side. His ears were pointed towards Tully’s conversation, one mismatched eye pointed in my direction. The Strain kept trying to butt into their talks, and I’d had to slap him on the back of the head to get him to stop.

“Where’s yer bow?” I snapped.

He startled. “What?”

I scowled. “Yer bow. Where is it.”

“It’s… still in the barn.”

“Blood, why’s it in the barn? Why’s any of yer stuff in the barn? Gast’s got all her kit, and she barely remembers her head in the mornin’.”

“It may not escalate that far,” the old Strain insisted. “I think talks are going well.”

For a moment, I just stared at him, completely baffled. “Go get yer kit.”

Davian stared back, his warped face as inscrutable as always. Then, he looked away and clambered down with a dexterity belying his years. There was a role for his marksmanship. That role had been blown away by his ill-preparation.

I growled angrily. “Man’s fallen apart. Don’t bode well, does it?”

I looked at Gast. She was still looking at the runes.

“You payin’ attention?” My voice quavered slightly. The note was quickly squashed.

“He’s scared,” the fat Strain stated, without turning her gaze away.

“Sure, th’ situation’s bad.” I waved a hand. “Y-you don’t see me fallin’ over it.”

She didn’t respond.

I swore quietly, then rotated my body and called for Whip.

The young woman looked up, crutch tucked beneath her arm.

“You prepped?”

She turned around, pointing to the crossbow slung onto her back.

“They don’t need you?”

“They don’t,” she right.

“Alright,” I said, lowering an arm. “I need you up here.”

The Strain hobbled over and then awkwardly leapt on her good leg, allowing me to clasp her hand with my own. My arms strained as I heaved, but luckily for me Whip weighed little more than a bird. Combined with her frantic scrabbling, our efforts soon saw her laying next to me as we both panted.

“So,” I began, managing to catch my breath between words, “whaddaya think Tully’s plan is, Whip?”

She scrunched her brows. “I can’t read her mind.”

I growled with frustration. “Jus’…” I tried to phrase it how Vin would. “What would your plan be?”

Whip crept forward, head peeking over the lip of the wagon to gaze at the seventy-odd soldiers arranged against her, then withdrew with trembling eyes. They flickered madly, movements driven by whatever calculations occurred behind them.

She mumbled something.

“Bit louder,” I said.

Without looking at me, the small Strain turned around, sternly glaring around the courtyard.

“What’s my goal?” she asked.

I scrunched my nose, thinking. “Uh… Let’s say you needa protect Maddie, escape, an’ keep enough people alive t’make it t’Fort Vane.” Quickly, I added, “Jus’ pretend.”

“Gast?”

The fat woman turned her head, slightly.

“What does the weapon do?”

“Fires something strong.”

Whip continually nodded. “Okay…” She stilled. “Okay.”

I gestured for her to explain.

“I don’t think we can outrun these people,” she said, chewing her lip. “And even if we escape, they’ll get help. Ideally, we kill all of them.”

I looked closely at her. “There a way to do that?”

“Probably not? But to escape, we still need to kill a lot of them.”

“Why?”

“That’ll buy some time.”

“How would you do that?”

“Uh…” Whip swallowed, glancing at me. “It’s not very nice.”

“Pretend yer not nice.”

“Well, um…” The pause extended for far too long, given how any second could make this pot boil over. Though the temptation was there, I didn’t smack her; it wouldn’t help. “Someone pulls a wagon aside, and fires the big crossbow. That gets a few of them, but…” She looked to me. “They’d be a bit confused, right?”

“I’d be.”

She cocked her head. “But what about them?”

I sucked air between my teeth. “…Yeah.” The response was flat. “They’d be confused.”

“Okay. We get the oxen out and scare them towards the other people, and we run towards the place on the hill.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “There’s monsters there.”

“It’s got walls, and they’ll attack everyone equally.”

“Right. So how d’we stop Maddie from gettin’ shot on the way up?”

“Use everyone else as shields.”

I chuckled, half-admiring. “Figured it’d be somethin’ like that. That it?”

“Um.” She looked around. “I don’t really know everything that we have, so maybe if we ask Tully I can make a better plan.”

“S’okay Whip. Good job.”

I slapped her on the shoulder, which she received with admirable stoicism. Or so I thought, until I remembered the Strain was incapable of feeling pain. One of the strange twists of being a Strain – like Gast being the size of two of me but eating half as much.

There was no way that Whip figured all of Tully’s plan. She was a Strain, not a Spiderblood – form without essence. Woman would have a hidden knife anyway, ready to strike when it suited her. But it was enough to understand how the fight would move.

Sure enough, Rita made the rounds moments later, explaining in a whisper that we’d all run to the abandoned town up the hill when ‘the signal’ occurred. Our job was to protect people, and deter whatever monsters slept in the village. Vague instructions, but she assured us that as long as we’d listen to Tully, we’d be fine.

Oxdung. I’d have to keep them safe.

I scowled after the guard as she entered the barn. Then turned to Tully, who at this point had been stalling for over five minutes. I moved to ask her something, but Gast and Whip both pulled me back.

Whip signed something, just like Ronnie usually did.

“What?” I uttered, brows tilted.

She moved her mouth close to my ear. The urge to scramble away filled me, but I steeled myself against such weakness.

“Foxblood,” she whispered.

I swore. “Alright.”

The bloodtech light beaming onto the forces arrayed against us revealed their behaviour as if the sun shone above us. Some shuffled from foot-to-foot, while others’ hands flickered, drumming fingers against the bronze of their spears or shields. A few were incredibly still, glaring straight ahead at our wagon-wall. Whether to keep losses down or to simply play at being a leader who cared, their commander was being excessively cautious. But one thing was clear: if he wanted to keep control over his people, he’d have to order the attack soon. Or they’d do it, just to ease the escalating tension, and he’d lose every ounce of respect they held for him.

And then seventy soldiers would march towards us.

I’d seen it all before, on a smaller scale. We had moments before the jig was up, and Tully’d be forced to flip the table.

I leaned next to Gast’s ear. “Cut your hand down when we’re about to fire th’ big thing,” I breathed. “An’ help Whip’s shot land.”

I shuffled closer to Whip. “When Gast cuts her hand down, try t’shoot th’ man speakin’.”

They both nodded. Gast readied the slab engraved with runes strapped to her left arm, while the smaller Strain slowly unslung her oversized crossbow, keeping it out of the army’s sight.

I drummed my fingers against my upper thigh, while the others clenched around the hilt of my sword. All my talents revolved around hurting people at close range. There was absolutely nothing I could do, beyond stopping any enemies from getting too close.

Were I a different person, I could’ve done better. But all I had to work with was myself. Such knowledge left me empty, and dull. Like one of Vin’s carvings, half-finished and discarded by a frustrated hand.

People would die before sunrise. I had to make sure that amongst them, there wasn’t anyone I cared about.

Then there was a jolt as Ronnie shoved the wagons beneath us aside. Gast drove her hand down, her runestone flaring, and Whip fired a-

***

-glint from the wall of wagons above us, and a purple blur raced towards us, faster than my eye could track. One of the Blooded guards snapped her hand out, face splitting into a wide grin at a far slower pace, and snatched at it, yet met only air when the bolt suddenly changed course and embedded itself into our leader’s leg.

Andros let loose a jagged groan, admirably stifled down from a scream. I opened my mouth to give the order to initiate encirclement – supposed explosives be damned – only to find the wagons that formed our quarry’s makeshift fortifications rolling aside, moving the light that had assaulted us away. In its wake was the darkness of night, only having grown deeper from our exposure to radiance. The only thing I could see was purple.

Then my eyes adjusted. Within the yard of a beaten and broken farmstead was a massive contraption, bristling with runes. Their purple energy grew in intensity.

“All troops,” I bellowed, “split formation!”

And well-trained as they were, our men and women began moving. But we’d been too late.

I covered Andros with my body and then everything exploded.

I-

***

-was pushing our cart out of the barn when the world fell apart.

The wall had been opened and all-encompassing cacophony emanated from the other side, setting all lesser sounds alight and leaving only a dull haze of ringing in its wake, like an endless landscape of tolling bells. Everyone I could see had covered their ears, but even so several lost their balance: Laja and the Owlbloods toppled over next to the device, whatever blood fuelled it now entirely spent, while both Gast and Whip rolled off the wagons to thud painfully on the ground. Kit immediately dismounted after the two to help them up. They were lucky.

Retaliation was immediate, delivered in the form of several arrows. The guards still atop the wall managed to protect Tully, but doing so ensured that no hands remained to protect themselves. Projectiles glanced off helmets, ringing them like beaten pans, and dented their steel armour or sunk into their less protected arms and legs. One of them toppled off the wall, taking Tully with him. He was the broken-armed man who’d stayed with us when the bandits were defeated, and there were arrows in his thighs and chest. There would be no fleeing for him.

I blinked, and recovered from my stupor enough to begin pushing the cart towards the fallen Strains. Neither Whip nor Gast could run fast enough to escape, so pulling them would be the only way for them to keep pace. Yet I wrenched the slab of wood in another direction when movement in the sky caught my attention. A disparate collection of arrows arced above us, on a backdrop of stars and moons. Calculations allowed by decades of experience and Kani’s stolen power told me they’d fall atop Ronnie, Malee, Laja, and the three Blooded men like a falling meteor. Pure coincidence: none of the enemy archers had eyes on the group. Horrible and deadly coincidence.

The giant Strain was too busy trying to help the Owlbloods upright to notice. My screams were lost in the sea of ringing that suffocated us. I strained against the back of the cart, tendons creaking, and wrung more raw power from my body than I had for years to send it hurtling towards them.

Malee looked up, then dove atop his sister. I pounded over the crimson dirt, and Ronnie finally glanced my way, eyes drawn by the cart. They followed my finger upwards, and saw the arrows hurtling towards them.

I wasn’t fast enough. But the cart was, and driven by my titanic push it thundered next to the giant, who used their one overdeveloped arm to heave it over the fallen and huddle beneath. After the projectiles fell, they stood juddering in the cart’s bed like a forest of ravening spears. When I arrived seconds later, the cart had fallen and Ronnie emerged from beneath, tiny arm clutching their massive one. Its skin stood against curling tendons snapped by the force Ronnie had demanded from them. A silent scream lay within the Strain’s gaping mouth and wrenching face.

One of the quiet men – an Owlblood, I’d figured – lay on the ground, large, trusting eyes staring at the sky. A shaft juddered between them.

My gaze flicked back upwards. Yet whatever spirit had compelled our enemies to blindly fire into the night had left them, and no more emerged.

Kit wobbled past me, her dark skin several sickly shades lighter, Whip cradled in her arms. She dumped the girl into the cart, and moments later Gast appeared. The two of us shoved the rotund Strain atop as well. The swordswoman spared me a single, tight nod. I looked away.

“Keep yerselves safe,” she yelled against the ringing.

Gast stood, readying her massive shield.

Ronnie flicked their pained gaze towards mine, and I flicked a thumb towards the cart. They shook their head.

“Whip can’t reload the crossbow,” I explained quickly.

The giant just snorted and glanced at their limp arm. Whip’s massive crossbow didn’t use a crank – only Ronnie and I had enough strength to arm it. One well-placed bolt was usually all Whip needed to solve our problems. At this point, there weren’t enough bolts in existence for that.

They produced a whistle from beneath their scrap armour, then blew it hard enough to make me flinch. A moment later, the Strain’s dog – Yowler – loped from the barn in a blur of greying fur and frantic legs. Ronnie gestured to the dog.

“Alright.” My breath came and went, hard and sharp. “Okay.” I grabbed him under his belly, ignoring his scared yelps and scratching paws, and dumped him into the cart. Ronnie smiled tightly, then rushed off.

Quickly, I checked how firmly my halberd hung in its mount on the side of the cart. Then, I positioned myself underneath the cart’s bar.

“Vin.” Kit spoke close to my ear. I looked at her. “You gonna be… fast enough?”

My jaw ached. “I’ll have to be.”

Rita led two horses – previously hitched to Maddie’s carriage – from the barn. The rest of the caravaners emerged on her tail leading the handful of oxen they possessed, and released them as soon as they left. The animals sped through the yard, eyes rolling, yet they shied away from the mass of people gathering around. Instead, they stomped near the wall. Behind them, Malee and Laja worked to close the gap that’d opened in the wall of wagons. Yet between them remained a gap, and through it caught a glimpse of what lay on the other side.

Screams. Wails. Howls. There was nothing human left in the line of fire. Only pieces, drenching the ground in blood and strings of gore. Beside the remnants stood or knelt or lay the stunned soldiery, faces pale. They either stood entirely still, or clutched the heads and limbs and bodies of their fellows, detached from bodies or pierced with bronze and bone shrapnel. One man screamed, clutching at his upper thigh where a torn helmet cut into him. Past the human detritus was a line of trees, trunks torn from under them to reveal fleshy pink heartwood, oozing crimson. Some stood admirably on whatever small splinters still connected them to the ground, while others teetered and slowly fell onto their neighbours.

And at the end of the line, I saw the weapon’s bolt lay crumpled on the ground. A speartree loomed above it.

With such power, how could Heltia ever be defeated? But then I realised that the pile of white stone at the centre of our yard was carved with runes – that the blood’s magic had been too fierce for human ingenuity to contain. Heltia’s weapon had broken the moment it fired.

The sound of humans attempting to vocalise their agony filled the air. What little sustenance remained within me revolted against my body, beating at the walls of my organs in response to the scene surrounding it. It stood little chance. I’d seen it all before, in another life: entire armies left reeling at my back, broken by my orders and my halberd. I’d left that behind me. To be a better mother to the twins, and…

Orvi.

A jaw clenched hard enough to set teeth aching. Hands trembled where they lay, wrapped around the cart’s bar. The thick taste of bile filled someone’s mouth. Moments could’ve been fractions of a second, or entire minutes; there was no way of knowing.

An impact running up the bar pulled me back to the present. Whatever thoughts I’d held had passed in less than twenty seconds – concepts and images flashing like lightning through my consciousness. I turned around, to find Whip, Gast… Aron, Willow, and Daisy.

“Get out of the cart, Aron,” I growled.

Beneath his beard, he smiled weakly. “Vin, we’ll hitch one of the horses- “

“Get out, or I’ll break one of your legs and throw you out.”

He blanched, then dismounted. His wife quickly followed, but I gestured for their child to stay. The monumental stupidity was beyond baffling. Fear rattled some more than others, I supposed.

“Snapper and Atifi,” I yelled, “Tippi, Crumpet, and whoever cannot run; get in the cart.”

Old Snapper waved a hand dismissively, and was immediately shouted down by Atifi and his daughter Miriel. Reluctantly, he was shoved onto the cart alongside the others I called, to be promptly joined by another child, around the same age as the twins would’ve been. The kid cradled two infants in his arm – all three of them were from the Smiths and Growers.

Plus Yowler, Gast and Whip. More weight than I’d ever pulled before. The trail towards the town was uphill, and poorly maintained. But I’d do it.

“Keep yer head down, Huey,” a worn-faced Grower told the boy from the side. He’d avoided company for most of the trip, while the deep circles under his eyes and clear grief kept others away. After one of my Divinities, the man had introduced himself as Wil.

Huey nodded. Wil lent him a thin smile, then moved to the front of the cart and positioned himself next to me, behind the bar.

I eyed him. “Can you keep up?”

“Fer a while,” he replied quietly. “I’ll roll out if I’m falterin’.”

A familiar voice cut into our brief conversation. “S’not necessary.”

I turned my head away from Wil.

Rita, having saddled one draught horse, led the other over to me. “Tuck this lad where you two are, and push from th’ back.”

“What about the other?” I challenged.

“I’m riding it.”

I stared at her.

“I’m bait,” the short guard stated. “Going t’put on Maddie’s cloak, pretend to be her. One of me boys’ll ride with me.”

They shared similarly diminutive builds, but… “Gods, Rita,” I whispered.

She smiled brightly. “I’m a good rider. Probably got better chances than you lot.”

I tried not to let the doubt show on my face. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”

“She better,” the woman joked. “Now get that horse in place, and get Maddie in the cart.”

Wil took the horses reins and spent a few seconds figuring out how to hitch it to a cart designed for a donkey. While he did so, the man spoke. “D’you have much experience with horses?”

They were far too expensive to purchase, and no Oxblood could ride one without laming it. Back when I’d been one of the Barberfellows, before I’d been blackmailed by Leyden, I’d seen…

I swallowed. “None.”

“I’ll lead it.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll push from the back. The cart cannot get stuck.”

“I figured.” The worn man’s lips quirked suddenly, then fell. There was no time to ask what he found humorous.

When I turned, Maddie and Tully’s two remaining Blooded had found their way into the cart. I would’ve protested – all three had working legs – but Owlbloods were particularly poor runners, and they’d work to keep those in the cart unpierced by arrows. The Dolphinblood was needed to motivate the Owlbloods into doing anything but stare into space – and he’d operate at his best concentrating fully – so he needed into remain.

And Maddie’s presence was just the price of doing business. Her cloak was now donned by Rita, replaced by banded chitin armour, its filagree glowing imperceptibly purple. She wore an open-faced helm, meaning her delicate features were fully exposed. For a moment, I felt like forcing her to stop avoiding my gaze; to make her see me and everything else around her. But there was no time.

A horse’s hooves thundered and Rita was gone, travelling away from the town with one other guard. Tully waited several beats, and then whistled sharply.

My muscles strained, and the cart slowly gained momentum.

At either side of the cart were the caravaners, visibly supressing the urge to sprint. Not all of them would be able to keep up. Herding them in was the one remaining guard, and Tully each holding a crossbow in bloodied arms.

Kit and Davian formed our advance guard.

There was no rear guard.

Then I sensed soldiers slipping through the cracks in the wagons, grief and fury warring in their features even as the oxen ran madly through them and the cart curved and I pushed and it began rattling as we arrived on the road.

The abandoned village loomed above us. Thousands of steps uphill.