“Gather the horses. I want Tannin, Gamon and Elrin to ride ahead and get the ropes drawn over the path. As for the rest—”

“This is stupid suicide,” spat Demtri. The burly man scratched along his shaved head, pacing around the burnt out remnants of the fire from last night. “A royal seal. Yeh must have lost yer mind.”

Corya shot him a hard look. “No. I don’t think so. And this is no time for cowardice. I don’t intend to live in Fort Orric the rest of my life, and neither should you. We hit this hard, fast, and leave in the morning. We’ll be gone before they even know someone has knocked off the carriage.”

Erlin grumbled. “We don’t even know what’s in it!” the heavy-set man bellowed. “Could be stacks of royal papers. And what will that sell for?”

“You’d be surprised,” Corya defended, walking up to the gathered men. “Secrets sell. And they wouldn’t send an escort of knights if it wasn’t worth something.”

Anarra, followed by Deros and Gamon, passed through Fort Orric’s gatehouse and approached the gathered men and Corya. Deros motioned to speak, but Anarra stepped in front, hands on her hips. “Gamon tells me you intend to ransack a royal carriage?”

Deros did not fall in beside Corya, but instead, remained at Anarra’s side. Gamon sat down in the shade, yawning hard and staring off into the distance.

Corya was kneeling, lacing her boots. She was clad in her weapons and gear already: knives at her belts, along her bandoleer, and a rucksack. Her black hair fell to one side, revealing the scarred side of her face and a leather eyepatch. Her one eye lingered on Anarra’s body, before meeting her eyes. “Aye, that’s right. Caught wind of it this morning.”

The redhead spellcaster walked closer, standing somewhat in front of the kneeling Corya. “Well then,” Anarra said, smirking, staring down at the woman, “what are we waiting for? I rather like the sound of this.”

Both Deros and Gamon were taken aback.

A hot fury broke across Erlin’s face. “I ain’t about to let this flaming cunt make decisions for us,” Erlin said, red with anger. “If she wants to do it, it’s ever more reason not to do it.”

“Fat, ugly, and a coward,” Anarra cut-in sharply, glancing at Erlin. “A simply pathetic combination.”

“Bitch!” he roared as he ran at her.

“Oh, I know,” she purred.

Corya rose, but it was too late. Erlin threw a burly fist at the redhead. Anarra stepped back and out of the way, her senses roused and sharp from the earlier sparring.

“That’s enough!” Deros shouted, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Erlin wound up for a second swing, and Anarra sunk a knee into his gut. He groaned and grabbed for her shoulders, and the two went down in a tumble. A crackle of pink energy sparked into life along her left arm. Erlin, on top of her, threw another punch, but his fist smashed into dirt. Anarra had no time to conjure a proper blast of energy—she smashed her energized forearm against his face, and was surprised to find that not only did she hardly feel the impact, her blow carried far more force. The burly man was thrown off her, slamming onto his side.

Corya did nothing. She stood, arms crossed, watching more than a hint of smug satisfaction. Anarra rose sharply onto her feet, glaring down at Erlin. “Oh, this flaming cunt will be making decisions for you,” she said, her words dripping with scorn. She stepped on Erlin’s throat, pinning him down, the heel of her boot digging deep as she ground her foot down. She aimed her crackling arm down at him, swirls of scarlet energy dancing with the bright pink flows of magic. “I’ll blow your fucking head off if you don’t obey me,” she said, her eyes full of menace.

Erlin fought, struggled, his balled fist smacking into her leg again and again, but Anarra did not buckle. Erlin noticed the bright energy dancing along her arms, and he grew still, a pale fear washing out the ruddy color of his face.

“I give, I give,” he slurred out, “I give. Yeh made yer point!”

Her heart raced again. She felt a shiver of pleasure run through her, through her thighs and ass, up her spine, in her mind; she felt it within her, a feeling of power, of satisfaction, of dominance. She continued to grind the heel, watching him sputter and choke, foam at the edges of his lips. But she dismissed the gathered magic from her arm and took her boot off his throat.

“Do you think a few paltry knights intimidate me?” she said, standing tall, her eyes tense. “We can have that carriage. You need only obey,” she finished. Then, she lowered her hand, offering it to Erlin. The man was breathing hard, sweat along his bushy brow, and he reluctantly took the hand as she helped him stand.

“So. As you see,” Corya said, arms outstretched, to call the attention of the gathered men. “We have quite an edge. Something they will hardly expect.”

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The men, those especially who had not seen the corpses of the men on the bridge, looked at Anarra with fresh eyes. Erlin brushed at his beard, the hairs burnt and singed where she had struck it with her magic-infused forearm. He kept his eyes well away from her. Tannin, who had already feared her, seemed ever more nervous of her. Demtri loathed her as well, but even he seemed cowed at the raw power of her magic. Or, at the very least, wary.

“You.. you ain’t the first spell-slinger we’ve fought,” Erlin said, bothered by the part of his face which was burnt by her magic. “But… one on our side? Ain’t had that. I, uh, I won’t be causin’ no more problems. I’ll fight with yeh,” Erlin finished, swallowing hard. It was clear to Anarra that this man did not wish to lose face before his fellow bandits.

“You’ve much to gain by falling in line,” she said, drawing her red hair from her face. “Very much. If you’re wise enough to obey.”

She saw a curious glimmer in his eyes, at that—he was bottling down no hatred for her. No, it seemed if anything, the violence had broken his hatred. As if her attitude, her harshness, her severity had garnered his respect. He would have never been won over with sweet words or convincing. He respects those who can defeat him. And something else… though what, I cannot say.

Deros had been watching—her, and the others. The fact he remained by her side spoke much. It seemed as if he was curious to see how she would handle herself, how Corya would respond. Whatever he had seen, it had clearly pleased him.

“We have little time to continue dallying like this,” Corya said. “Get ready. Gather the horses; they’re tethered a little ways out. Tannin and Gamon will ride ahead, tie ropes across the road. As for the rest…”

Anarra did not let her finish. “I want Deros, Tannin the archer, and Elrin with me.”

The eyes of the group fell upon Corya. The one-eyed woman chewed over Anarra’s words. “Aye, go ahead, take the front with that group. The rest of us will split up, flank either side.”

A quiet murmur filled the group of men then, a sense of surprise that Corya had let herself get interrupted by Anarra, and had even gone with her direction. Corya seemed ever so small in that moment, her sense of leadership tenuous.

“Four knights,” Anarra said, “and a woman in robes.”

“Mage, most like,” Deros said, arms crossed. “Says what’s in the carriage must be more than mere coin. Could be aurichalcum.”

Varlin, the calmer twin of Demtri’s, and Kem, the hooded man of faith, both came now to the gathering, leading horses. Kem hitched his horses to one of the nearby trees, and bowed his head at Anarra, his fingers steepled. Varlin glanced at Erlin’s face and then towards Anarra. “I’ll get the rest of the horses,” Varlin said, marching off.

“Aurichalcum, should I know what this is?” Anarra asked. She was annoyed that she had to have asked the question; there was much she did not know, and that bothered her.

“Mage metal, so it’s called,” Corya said. If the woman was frustrated at Anarra’s plays for power, she did not show it easily. “Lighter than steel and much better at holding a magic charge. Hard to work with, though, so I’m told.”

“I am sure you will learn more about this metal in due time, Mistress Deimos,” Kem said. The sly look on his face annoyed her, but he gestured to her arms in a small, hidden motion. “Those with talent at spellcraft have a way of being drawn to it.”

How would he—she stopped herself, glancing down at the bracelets of Echia she wore, that Kem had gifted her the other night. She examined them, running her fingers along the runic design. She thought back to smashing Elrin across the face with her forearm, how her arm held the pink scintillating energy so easily. Did he plan this confrontation, in some way, or simply know it might come to this? Or did some god show him the future?

The Steel Ravens continued busying themselves in preparation: blades sparked across sharpening stones, crossbows were tested and winched, boots laced, armor drawn tight, hoods, scarves and bandanas to hide their faces, and any fires and torches at Fort Orric were smothered. In total, the bandit gang had seven horses. These were not breeds built for war, but rather common saddle and packhorses, only a step up or two from a farmer’s mule. With nine people (herself included) and seven horses, most rode alone, but Gamon rode with Kem. Anarra was not surprised when Deros rode up to her and held his hand out. Wordlessly, she took it, and he tugged her up so that she sat in front of him on the horse. His hands found her wide hips, and he squeezed, pulling her snug against him, her large ass pressing against his groin. She wiggled until she found a good, comfortable position, which made the man groan softly.

“Can’t imagine you know how to ride, eh?”

“I could ride you just fine,” she said, smirking.

Deros’s voice caught.

Anarra chuckled. “Horse riding? No, I’ve never the chance.”

“I’ll show you a few things on the way there, Mistress Deimos.”

“My my, you continue to serve me well.”

He cleared his throat. “The honor is mine.”

“It certainly is an honor to serve me. Never forget, Deros.”

The bandits on horseback mingled about one another, murmuring and chatting. Corya shouted back across the group, interrupting them, spinning her horse to face them all. “Based on how quick the carriage was moving, we should be able to head them off at the Hartling Pass. The groups are as follows; remember who you’re with, what you’re doing: Anarra, Deros, Tannin and Elrin are taking the front, securin’ ropes across the paths to cut off the carriage, then, taking the fight straight at em’. Then, two groups on either side, flanking them: Gamon, Kem and myself, then the twins Varlin and Demtri on the other side. Once the front group has taken the fight to em’, we come in strong. I’ll call the shots with the flanking groups, and Deros will—”

“Nay,” he spoke up. “If Anarra is leain’ the attack, then she should be leadin’ us as well.”

“Aye, agreed,” Erlin added quickly. “She’s earned that.”

Tannin said nothing, but rather, softly noddled.

Anarra suppressed a smug smile. She had taken a calculated risk, here: Deros was Corya’s second, but his loyalties were swiftly changing. She had put Erlin in his place, and knew well that Tannin trusted Deros, and feared her as well. She had a strong feeling that Corya would appoint a second leader on this assault, and a strong showing of support would not only undermine Corya, but uplift her as well.

“Very well, then—Anarra it is. Let’s move,” Corya said, spurring her horse. Before she turned out about and rode out of Fort Orric, Anarra could see that look of unease on her face.

The Steel Ravens moved out, horses moving in file, with Corya at the front followed by Deros and Anarra, then the rest, the overgrown old road from the fort to the traderoad pounded by the hooves of the bandit gang. The thought of violence aroused Anarra once more; she felt her blood quicken, the magic yearn to be unleashed. A royal carriage—it was too tempting a target to refuse. She wanted to cause chaos. She wanted to hurt people.