Chapter Three

Baedren

There was a ritual to how each Ithilian woke, in those early stretches of dawn. First the rising of each man and woman from the floor of the Great Hall. Then there was the preparation of fitting swords into sheaths and tying leather armor. Little words were spoken between each person, and each expression was somber, knowing what lay beyond the walls of their stronghold.

Baedren went to his sister, who was already fitting leather braces over her arms, hammer at her side. Nearly as tall as he was, Ildris was no less formidable in presence. Baedren tested the weight of his axe, swinging it slightly to the left, the right, twisting and turning like an arm.

“You keep swinging that thing ‘round, and it will hit you one day.”

Baedren laughed. “My axe will hit only what I want it to hit.”

Off a few paces were the Caidonians, fitting on armor. It was fine armor too, Baedren could see; engraved with the blues and golds of Caedon which could block the sharpest swords and swiftest arrows, and was hand crafted from the finest steel of the Caidonian smiths. Baedren stepped forward, so that their faces were beneath his great shadow. Half of them backed away, so it was only Haidara who walked towards him, raising her palm in greeting.

“Good morn’ to you as well,” Baedren said, smiling. “though you should take off that armor.”

Haidara’s brow creased. “I thought we were fighting with you.”

“Indeed you are, but not with that fancy armor; you can’t move around like that.”

She looked down, turning her arms to study the metal plates.

“And how will we be able to protect ourselves if we don’t wear armor?”

“You will wear leather armor,” Ildris replied, walking over to them. “You can move faster in it.”

“Can we at least take the horses?” Valharad said.

Baedren shook his head. “Horses will slow us down, and they’re too easy to spot.”

Ildris stood beside Baedren, resting her hands on the handle of her hammer.

“And you could lend a few good weapons to our people; Spirits know we need them for ourselves."

Haidara smiled thinly. “Of course; we will give them out now.”

Not far ahead, Ellod and Brae stood, talking quietly to each other. They already wore their armor, the braces and shoulders carved with intricate patterns and swirls across their shoulders and chest. Bhaedren looked at Yldris, who rolled her eyes and pulled him forward.

“Good morn’ to you both,” Bhaedren looked from Ellod to Brae, eyes catching their boots; they were new as well, laced up and not a scratch on them.

“Good morn' to you as well,” Ellod said, turning himself to the left and the right. “I feel like a true warrior in this.”

“And ya haven’t been before, eh?” Ildris said. “Perhaps you just wanted some fancy armor of your own.”

“It does suit him.” Brae answered, glancing at his new quiver stocked with arrows, courtesy of the Caidonians as well.

“You’ve been noticing?” Ellod grinned, and Brae swatted his shoulder.

Baedren looked at her. “Have you spoken with Haidara or Valharad on this day?”

She shook her head. “It seems they’re busy giving our people fine armor and decent weaponry.”

He laughed. “I might have had a hand in that, I’m afraid.”

“Whichever of you did it, I’m happy enough to wear something other than threadbare cloth and worn leather.”

“Good; we’ll be moving out soon, so you best be putting that armor to good use.”

Around them, Ithilians walked with their new finery, no longer the ragged group of farmers and masons and herders turned fighters. Now they were men and women that once guarded passage to the Old Harbor, fought back against the men of the Outerlands, and now defended their land against monsters. Perhaps that strength was there still.

Baedren looked at Ildris, who raised a brow in response, balancing her hammer against her shoulder. Baedren did the same with his axe, and they both walked forward.

They almost didn’t see Brae walk past them, going to the front of the line to face Ithilians and Caidonians. Her mouth was set in a tight line, her gaze piercing like a hawk, focusing on the Caidonians first.

“Do you know what is out there?”

The Ithilians looked to the Caidonians, who looked to them and Brae, hesitation written across their faces.

Brae walked to them, stopping just a single pace away.

“Do any of you know?”

Every Caidonian stared back, but did not answer her.

“The daemon you saw was only one, and an injured one at that; the others are far more dangerous. They will tear you and your people apart, if given the chance.

“I have heard many stories of Caidonians and their fighting skills. Today, you shall show them.”

She tipped her chin to Haidara and Valharad.

“Who are your finest soldiers?”

They turned and gestured to a group of soldiers who stepped forward, forty in total. Brae looked at Haidara and Valharad, nodding.

“They shall fight with us in the First Legion. The other sixty will go to the Second Legion. Stay close to our hunters, and do not stray off the path.”

Thirty Caedonian soldiers went to the Second Legion, and thirty more to the Third. The forty Caedonians went aside the First Legion, standing in front of the great stone doors.

“Open the gate!” Baedren said, his voice a great bellow which made more than one Caidonian flinch. Slowly the gates were pushed inwards, the iron creaking with each movement. When they were lifted, Ithilians and Caidonians walked through the narrow passage out onto the foothills of the forest.

The great doors of the Ithiliden were opened, their hinges creaking as Ithilians and Caedonians walked through it to the courtyard beyond. The Caidonians stopped first, Haidara and Valharad at their front. She held a sword hilt in its scabbard, filigreed with inlaid gold, and he with his spear glinting in the light of the early morning.

As they left, the Ithilian people raised their hands in farewell, tears streaming down their faces. Whether it was with sadness or hope, Baedren could not tell.

The hill itself was a steep climb, the grass still fresh with dew. He took great strides with his legs while Ithilians trotted and Caidonians lumbered up the expanse, shields strapped across their backs. As the hill became steeper, some dropped their shields entirely, leaving them to fall on the ground. Ildris walked beside her brother, keeping pace with him.

“Do you think they should get their shields?” she said.

Baedren shrugged. “Some might not return to fetch them.”

She frowned. “I did not take you for a Doomsayer, brother.”

“Caidonians have seen one demon, my sister; that does not make them hunters.”

Ildris looked up towards the forest. “They’re about to find out.”

When it came into view, Brae raised a hand that stopped every Ithilian and Caidonian in their tracks. They looked up towards the trees which grew taller than ten men, and the leaves darker than shadows. The air around it had a deep stillness, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for its new visitors to enter.

At the top, Brae turned to all who were present. She surveyed the band of hunters and soldiers, studying their faces. There was courage, yes, perhaps even some blind bravery, but there was also fear, one that grew with every glance to the forest which stretched back as far as the eye could see.

All at once, the Ithilian archers jumped to the low branches of trees, climbing up trunks with bows in their hands or across their backs. Ellod climbed up with only a few well placed leaps, crouching in the nook of a sturdy branch.

Valharad signaled a few soldiers forward. They walked to either side of him, forming a line. With one movement they pointed their spears forward, poised to strike. Archers walked behind them, knocking arrows into strings. Those above watched the shadows, looking for any signs of what might appear.

Here even Baedren, a mighty man as he was, felt small under the trees and their branches. He looked to the darkness beyond and tightened his hand around his axe. It was Yldris who placed her hand over his, and gazed with him into the heart of the forest, waiting.

A cold wind rose above them all, stirring the leaves and setting gooseflesh upon their skin. It passed through the narrow path, but no demons appeared. Caidonians looked from Ithilians to the shadow of the forest, a gaping maw of darkness that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

At once, there was the sound of something moving in the ferns a few paces away. Ithilians turned their heads, and Caidonians moved their spears towards it, each one poised to strike. Baedren kept his axe close and his eyes trained on a shadow, one that shifted as the mist concealed it from view.

He held his axe higher as the shadow drew back.

“Where are they?” a Caedonian said.

The shadow leaped, landing on the back of that same soldier. He screamed, his arms flailing as he tried to reach behind him, the daemon clinging ever tighter around him as it bit and clawed at his armor.

“Get it off, get it off of me!”

Valharad struck his spear, the point going through the daemon’s shoulder. The beast arched back, howling in pain. He struck a second time, his spear piercing the back of the daemon’s neck. Its body seized, and it fell. the soldier stumbled back, large tears in armor. Baedren pulled him back while Yldris went to the soldier, checking for any signs of wounds.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

The Caidonian was dazed, but remarkably unscathed.

More shadows emerged, followed by more growls, more than Baedren could count.

“Form a line!” Brae shouted, Ithilians going to her side. Baedren and Ildris did as well, weapons raised. The Caidonians formed a circle around them, edged with spears and closed tight to not give a single inch. He held his axe tightly, and waited for the beasts to attack.

Twenty daemons rushed forward, jaws snapping and claws drawn out to strike.

“Advance!”

Haidara spoke the words, and the Caidonians struck, impaling the daemons in the eyes and head and throat.

“Hold!” she said.

As quickly as they had attacked, the Caidonians drew back their spears. Twenty daemons were dead before they even fell to the ground.

Baedren saw the relief upon the Caidonians faces, ones that fell just as soon as they heard more daemons coming forward, now forty or more before them. The monsters circled them, roaring and snapping their jaws.

When one moved too close, Ildris struck with her hammer, caving in its chest and sending the beast back into the shadows.

“Advance!”

Caidonians stepped forward once more, drawing swords that glinted even in the faint light. When the daemons’ claws tried to cut through armor once more, sharp blades went through them, fresh blood spilled into a dark river upon the ground.

Seeing their courage, Ithilians went forward, moving between the soldiers with swords and axes. Brae looked up to the trees and signaled to Ellod. The archers nocked their bows, ready to loose their arrows.

When they fired, Baedren saw from the corner of his eye the thin shape of an arrow, the sound of it whistling past his ear quickly as the point found the brow of a daemon. He looked up and saw a grin on Ellod’s face. Bhaedren raised his palm in gratitude before rejoining the fray.

Ithilians and Caidonians held the line, some Ithilians even brave enough to move to the front. Bhaedren swung his axe, sending daemons reeling back and one unlucky brute with a deep gash along his jaw. He pulled the axe out, the sound of meat and bone making a loud crunching sound. The daemon fell, and several Caidonians looked at him, both astonished and frightened. He met the eyes of one, giving a small nod; the soldier nodded as well, then turned back into the fray.

Ildris smiled at the scene, standing close to her brother to keep the line strong against the daemons that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Brae herself remained near either soldier, not letting them out of her sight.

“Advance!”

Caidonians moved to the left, pushing the demons into a small cluster of trees. The beasts pushed and pulled, trying to escape the hold the soldiers had upon them. As soon as the daemons were pressed up against that line of trees, they struck out with teeth and claws, trying to make space between them. A few tried fleeing to the right, but the soldiers reached them before they could escape. All the while the Caidonian soldiers pushed the daemons back inch by inch.

Baedren saw as Haidara stepped forward, her sword cutting through the air and a daemon with just a few turns of her wrist. The beast stood for a moment, looking forward as if dazed, then fell into pieces before her feet. She kicked away its remains with the heel of her boot.

Five daemons went to Valharad. He looked at each of them, eyes darting from side to side. The curved blade of his spear found their necks, their eyes or the thin junctions of their arms and shoulders.

The other daemons pulled their fallen brethren back behind them. In their eyes Baedren could see fear, a look he never thought he would live to see. Ithilians saw this as well, and their voices became a roar that rose above their heads as they pushed ahead of the Caidonians entirely, cutting down every daemon in sight. The archers up above had ceased firing their arrows entirely, moving down from the leaves to stare at the scene below them.

Ildris was with them, her hammer coated in blood and spattered across her face, yelling with every man and woman present. Faced with old enemies, the daemons ducked their blows and stretched out their long claws. One daemon’s hand reached out and caught the throat of an Ithilian, sinking fingers into his flesh before he could cry out.

The Ithilian fell, blood flowing as he tried to plug the holes with his hand. Ildris saw this, drawing herself back from the line towards the fallen soldier. As she did, the daemons followed, circling round to attack her and the boy.

Baedren swung his axe; it split open a daemon’s head clean through. With his free hand he seized a second demon by the throat and threw it towards the Caidonians. Valharad struck its chest with his spear, removing it before turning back and catching another demon in its stomach.

“Drosto ve,” Ildris said to her brother.

“You are welcome, sister.”

*Thank you, in Ithilian.

She smiled and pressed a cloth to the lad’s neck, his skin turned pale from the loss of blood. As she tied a bandage across the wound, Baedren stood guard over them both, striking down any demon that came too close to his axe. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Ildris had lifted the soldier onto her soldier, handing them over to an Ithilian that placed him on her back, running swiftly across the trees towards the Ithiliden.

Just ahead of them, Haidara was attempting to close the gap the daemons had made when injuring the Caidonian.

“Hold the line!” she said.

Valharad answered by pushing himself and five other soldiers to the right, sealing the space with their bodies. Their swords and spears wavered, now that their kin’s blood had been shed. The sight had caused a wave of fear, one Baedren could see it in the way they held their weapons, how they raised their shields in front of them thinking that would keep them safe.

A daemon seized a shield from the hands of a soldier, the sounds of its claws grating the metal in a sound higher than any Baedren had heard before. Caidonians and Ithilians flinched, some dropping swords and spears to clap their hands over their ears. The daemon with the shield took the chance to strike the soldier on the head with its edge.

She fell back, helmet knocked off her head and blood streaked across her mouth and brow. The hunters rushed to fill the space she had left behind.

“Ivra!”

A man ran to Ivra, dropping his sword and crouching down beside her body. She looked back at him, smiling a thin smile of pain.

“Avros…"

“Bring her up,” Baedren said, placing a hand at the small of her back, Avros at her right shoulder. She winced at the touch; Baedren noted this, and held her steady as Ildris knocked daemons back with her hammer, pushing and elbowing past Caidonians and Ithilians to reach her brother.

“Will she live?” Avros said as Ildris turned her head gently to examine the wounds made by the daemon’s strike.

“Her nose is broken,” she said, stuffing a cloth inside to stem the bleeding. “I’ll have to set it back.”

Ivra winced, though whether from Ildris' words or the pain, Baedren did not know.

“Please, My Lady,” she said, eyes no longer dazed, fear written plainly across her features.

“The bleeding will get worse if I don’t.”

“Is there no other way?” said Avros.

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“Not if you want to do it yourself.”

Avros fell silent at those words.

“Hold still,” Ildris said, placing her hands on either side of her face.

“Will it hurt?” Ivra said in a voice just soft enough to hear.

“Only for a moment, love.”

Baedren turned his face away; what he heard was a dull snap and a yelp of pain from Ivra. When he looked back, she was embraced tightly by Avros, his face a mixture of tears and relief.

“Thank you, thank you,” he kept saying; Ildris nodded politely as she wound a bandage across Ivra’s brow. Baedren stared at Avros sitting there, Ivra in his arms, tears spilling down his cheeks and onto Ivra’s own.

“I’ll take her back,”

Avros and Ildris both looked at Baedren.

“We will stay here; I can fight enough for the both of us.” Avros said.

“You cannot protect Ivra and fight daemons at the same time.”

“And you are the strongest fighter we have,” Ildris said, balancing Ivra’s weight on her shoulder. “if we lose you, we are all lost.”

Baedren looked to his sister, then reached down to the ground for his axe. With his other hand he held his palm out, slightly turned in farwell.

“Be safe, my sister.”

Ildris smiled and hoisted Ivra onto her back, running towards a narrow path between the trees, the safest road from the melee. In a moment, the daemons had pushed away the Caidonians and Ithilians; a daemon went towards Avros.

Baedren swung the blade of his axe into that daemon’s face. It split the beast’s face in two, as the rest of its body fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Are you all right?”

Baedren said these words to Avros, who stood dazed but unharmed.

“Thank you,” he murmured, then turned to the right, back into the fray.

Baedren followed close behind Avros, moving towards where Brae and a few Ithilians stood where the daemons were at their thickest.

“Took you long enough,” she said, ducking her head when a beast swung its arm.

“I was a bit busy,” he replied, striking the same daemon back.

Brae looked at him, smiling; her expression changed just as quickly when she looked at Avros.

“Who’s he?”

Before he could answer, Avros cut down a beast and leaned forward to Brae.

“Avros Daldanon, My Lady,” he said. “his sister saved my own.”

Her brow raised. “Where is she?”

“Back at the stronghold.” Bhaedren answered.

Brae frowned. “We needed her here.”

All around them Caidonians and Ithilians held the line still, pushing and pulling against the tide of daemons. Baedren and Avros stood at the outermost left, hacking with swords and axes alike. A clawed hand reached out between them and Baedren moved away out of instinct, Avros following suit.

Just as quickly, one daemon hooked its claws into his shoulders, then pulled the soldier forward. Several other daemons pounced on them, ripping away at his armor to reveal the skin beneath it.

It was only when they began to tear into his flesh that the lad screamed.

“No!” Avros said, lunging forward.

Baedren caught him first, pulling him back to the line. Across turned to him, anger and fear in his eyes.

“He is already dead.”

They looked again, and saw the feather tip of an arrow lodged in the soldier’s neck, a few others in the backs of the demons. Baedren could see the pale tips of his ribs exposed, mouth open and still caught in a scream.

“Hold the line!” Baedren said, even as he could not move his gaze away from the sight before him.

That small gap was enough to make the daemons flood through, splitting the Caidonians and Ithilians in two, driving one to the left and the other to the right. Baedren stumbled for a moment, pushed by the tide of people and beasts towards the trunk of a large tree.

Several daemons lunged toward him, seeking blood. He struck the first two, sending them sprawling back onto the ground.

The third ducked his strike, claws seizing the handle of his axe. The tip of its claw caught his ear, and Baedren cried out, clapping his hand over the wound. His other hand seized the demon’s neck and wrung it; the body went still, and he flung it behind him.

The third dodged two of his blows, weaving around and past his arms with twists of its thin body. When it moved to the right, Baedren turned his own body to the left, avoiding its blow and crashing back against the tree.

The daemon lunged, then remained still as the point of a sword emerged from its chest.

“Baedren!”

A hand reached out, pulling him forward. For a brief moment Baedren looked down at the sun bronzed arm of Avros before he regained his footing.

“Thank you.”

Avros smiled, and turned back into the fray. Baedren followed close behind.

Up ahead Caidonians were surrounded at their front by a horde of daemons, pushing and snapping them towards a gap in trees to the left. Avros joined their rank, rushing forward to slice off a daemon’s arm at the shoulder. It screamed, then with its free hand tried to wrap his claws around Avros’ throat; he struck it off as well, pushing the beats back to the ground.

Baedren swung his axe at the arm, and it fell to the ground with the blood of daemons and hunters alike. He swung his axe again, and struck the blade into its chest. When it fell, the Caidonians surged forward, moving themselves as a single line, pushing the daemons back.

Baedren was at their helm, Avros at his side, sword moving as swiftly as he walked. To the right the Ithilians still held sway; Bhaedren could see Ellod and other archers down on the forest floor. He was standing with Brae, his quiver emptied, a knife gleaming in his hand as he cut through a daemon’s hide fast as an arrow.

They went forward, forcing the daemons out towards the trees; Avros stayed at his left, even as the space became thin and the beasts became desperate for an escape.

Baedren felt their claws nick his armor and he ignored it, planting his axe into their flesh. The daemons fell against the trees, digging their claws into the trunks, trying to climb up them for safety. He swung his axe and cut off a daemon’s arm before it could climb any higher.

It screamed, but still held on with a single hand, trying to pull itself away; Bhaedren cut the other arm, and the daemon fell back into a bleeding, writhing mess. Avros slit its throat for good measure.

Baedren looked as Ellod swung up to a branch, balancing himself as a beast snapped at him and tried to throw him off. He leapt forward, planting his knife in the beast’s chest, sending it reeling on the ground. Another beast jumped to Ellod, trying to seize him. Valharad planted his spear between the beast’s ribs, throwing it against a nearby tree.

Avros and daemon fought; the beast knocked his sword from his hand, and he struck it across the jaw. The beast snarled and lunged at him, teeth and claws bared. Avros drew a knife, but turned his head when Baedren swung his axe, splitting the skin of the daemon’s chest. It fell, clutching itself and writhing in pain.

Avros knelt down and drove the knife into the beast’s jaw. It tensed, then lay still. He pulled the knife out and turned back to Baedren.

“Thank you, for saving my life.”

Baedren stepped forward and placed his hand on Avros’ shoulder, smiling.

“You are welcome.”

Bhaedren turned away from him to see the rest of the daemons laid upon the ground, Ithilians and Caidonians walking through with the wounded and dead among them. Ithilians were silent, while the Caidonians looked about them, astonished at those beasts and their carnage. Avros walked over and lifted a wounded man to his feet, letting the weight of him rest on his shoulders. Bhaedren took two Caidonians in his left arm and two Ithilians in his right, lifting them up like sacks of wheat. Avros saw this and looked on as Baedren went to him.

“Are you a god?” he asked.

Baedren laughed, almost letting one of the Caidonians fall down onto the ground.

“No, that I am not.”

“Can you carry all those people?”

Valharad looked to Baedren, who held onto a soldier with a deep gash on her leg.

Bhaedren stood up, his great arms around each soldier, holding them fast.

“I can.”

“We need to move fast,” Haidara called to them. “Where is the quickest way out?”

“This path, over here.”

Ellod pointed to a small clearing between two trees.

They walked, Bhaedren slow but steady, making sure not to jostle the bodies he had in tow. Avros was at his side, watching Bhaedren as he ducked his head below branches and turned his body to avoid hitting Ithilian and Caidonian soldiers who passed him. Baedren looked as Avros opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Ellod and Brae running up to them.

“Bhaedren Sorn Hurin is still alive, I see.” Ellod said. “And he has company.”

“Avros Daldanon,” he replied. “His sister saved mine from the daemons.”

“She went back to the Ithiliden with her,” Brae said, looking at Avros. “I hope they’re both safe.”

Bhaedren smiled. “Ildris is as fast as she is strong, and she knows the quickest paths to the stronghold.”

“Then at least let us take some of the wounded from your shoulders.”

Baedren knelt down on the narrow path, placing the hunters gently onto the ground. Brae and Ellod tried to lift them, but the weight of their armor was too heavy. They were about to lift one soldier together when Avros stepped forward.

“Let me help you.”

He hooked his arms beneath the shoulders of one Caidonian, while Ellod went to the soldier’s feet. Baedren hoisted the two hunters on his back once more, grateful for the lessening of weight on his shoulders. They began to walk, Avros shifting his body every so slightly to avoid tree roots and stones. Bhaedren looked back to Haidara and Valharad, who carried other wounded on their soldiers, moving slowly forward.

“How bad is she?” he said, gesturing to a soldier with a deep wound on her right shoulder.

Haidara looked at her. “She’s one of our own; she tried to help Malros before…”

“Before he was killed,” Valharad finished for her. “killed by one of those monsters.”

At the end of the clearing was the steep drop down towards the stronghold. Avros and Ellod went first, turning to the side so they carried the soldier between them. Bhaedren shifted the soldiers on his back and went towards Avros, his feet making the strides of two men as he approached.

“Are you sure you’re not getting tired?” he said.

Avros smiled; Baedren could see the sweat on his brow, the way he looked down at his feet to not stumble backwards.

“When we trained, we had to carry a stone on our backs up and down the high hills in Caidon, then run back to learn sword-fighting.”

“I suppose that helped you inside of the forest; you are good with a blade.”

“All Caidonians must be good with a blade, a bow, a shield and a spear.” Avros said, lifting the soldier higher, his teeth gritted from the effort.

“You could always lift this burden from us both.” Ellod said, giving a look to Bhaedren.

“If you get tired, Avros can run the soldier down for you.”

Avros gave a small chuckle, but continued on, not faltering with the soldier. Bhaedren could see the gash on the soldier’s head, a few nicks and cuts on their face and neck. He looked again toward the stronghold and heard the watchers call out to open the gate.

“We better get a move on,” Bhaedren said.

Ellod looked to Baedren and placed the soldier on the ground. She groaned, but did not resist when Avros hoisted her on his back and ran down. Baedren followed, keeping pace even with the soldiers on his back.

“Will those monsters catch us?” Avros said.

“Not if we keep moving.”

They ran together into the gate. Brae and Ellod followed close behind, Haidara and Valharad arriving last with a whole band of Caidonians at their side. The portcullis opened once more, and they stepped inside the high walls of the Ithilden, safe from any enemies lurking beyond its protection.

Ellod looked back to the forest. “We’re still alive.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Brae answered.

Baedren looked in the crowd for Yldris; she was wrapping a linen bandage across Ivra’s head, speaking to her in soft tones. Her head went up at the sight of Baedren and a smile grew across her face. Baedren and Avros walked forward and placed the wounded hunters at her feet.

“More customers, my sister.”

Avros went to Ivra, taking her hand in his and letting her rest against his side.

“Bless the Goddess,” he said softly, tears pooling in his eyes. “You are alright, you are safe…”

Avros knelt down to Ildris, bowing his head. “Thank you, My Lady.”

Ildris laughed. “I am no Lady, but your sister will live to fight another day.”

She pressed a bottle into his hand. “This will help with the pain.”

Avros stood Ivra up, then walked slowly away, her frame leaning heavily against his.

Baedren set down two wounded hunters, deep cuts on their legs, the blood staining deep marks on their clothes. They were pale, and their breaths were soft and shallow.

“Are those cuts from daemons?”

Baedren nodded, peering down at them. Had they come later, their flesh would have already begun to rot.

“I will take care of them now.”

She moved to examine their wounds when two Caidonians stepped forward, one holding their arm and grimacing in pain.

“Please help him.” his companion said, her brow creased with worry.

Ildris looked up at her, already applying a salve to a hunter’s leg.

“How bad is it?”

The soldier did not answer, only held their arm. Bhaedren could see it was bent at an unnatural angle, though it did not appear to have an open wound.

Ildris looked back at them. “A broken arm is not dire; I have two of my own people here who are badly injured.”

Bhaedren pointed a finger to his left. “Go to Venya Ovren; she will help set his arm.”

The Caidonian soldier frowned. “He needs help now.”

“Which he can get from Venya,” Ildris answered. “Or you can wait until I have finished helping my own people.”

Slowly, the two Caidonians walked away, talking softly to themselves. Brae and Ellod appeared, looking from Ildris to the bodies at her side. She cut away at the soldier’s trousers to gently place a poultice around her wound. The soldier cried out in pain and tried to move away, but she spoke soft words to her, and she quieted, allowing Ildris to do her work.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Valharad stopped in front of Ildris, the injured soldier at his side. He had a simple splint on his arm, though more crude than what she could have fashioned.

“Why are you not treating my people?”

“I have hunters who are more gravely injured than your people.” She replied.

Valharad stepped closer to Ildris.

“Are these soldiers less important than your own?”

There was a dark look in his golden eyes.

Ildris stood, nearly dwarfing him.

“When my people are injured, I treat them first.”

Valharad stepped closer. “And who gave you the food, clothes and armor which you wear with so much impunity?”

Baedren stepped between them, axe in hand.

“Be careful how you talk to my sister.”

Valharad brought the blade of his spear a hair’s breadth from Baedren’s head.

“We did not come to the West for this.”

“What is this then?”

Brae and Ellod stepped forward, looking from Valharad to Ildris.

“You can ask your friends why they refuse to treat my people.”

“Is this true?” Brae said.

“I was only trying to help these hunters with their wounds.” Ildris answered.

Brae and Ildris looked down to the two Ithilians, both stark pale, skin already beginning to fester.

“If we wait any longer, they’ll be dead.”

She turned back to Valharad. “Venya is a good healer as well; she can set the soldier’s arm.”

“Come,” Haidara said, leading the injured Caidonian away.

He stopped her.

“No.”

“Valharad, please-”

“If you do not help us, we will take our soldiers and return back to Caidon.”

“Do you think we survived this day because of you?” Ildris said. “Our people have been fighting those monsters far longer than yours.”

“Ildris,”

Brae tilted her head back to the injured lad and lass.

“Take care of them.”

Ildris nodded, then turned to Valharad.

“The next time you keep me from healing, I’ll let my brother crack open your skull.”

“Is that a threat?” Valharad answered.

Baedren leaned down.

“It’s a promise.”

Haidara went in front of him.

“Threaten him again, and I will not hesitate to strike.” she said.

Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword.

“Enough.”

Brae stepped between them.

“Go help your sister, Baedren.”

“We lost our people this day, just as you have.” Valharad said.

Brae stepped closer. “We have lost far more than yours, Caidonan; remember that.”

He was about to answer when Haedara stopped him.

“We are fighting a war; don’t be our enemies.”

“Don’t make us yours.” Brae answered.

Haedara turned away, pulling Valharad alongside her. They spoke in hushed tones, occasionally looking back at them, faces stern.

Baedren walked back to Ildris, who was sewing the wound of a hunter’s leg. He lay there, gritting his teeth and not looking at her careful but bloody work.

“How is he?” Bhaedren said.

“Any longer, and we would have had to cut off his leg.”

Baedren glanced down to the second hunter, paler than before.

Ildris sighed. “She’ll last the night, maybe more if she’s lucky.”

She cut the thread with a pair of shears, then slowly wound a bandage around it.

“I meant it when I said I’d let you kill them if they kept me from healing.”

He looked at her, smiling.

“Never doubted you for a moment, my sister.”

He looked back to the Caidonians, eyes searching.

“What is it?” Ildris said.

“Where is Avros?”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you care about him?”

“He does speak for his leaders.”

Baedren looked at a group of Caidonians standing, talking in a language he could not understand. He walked towards them, and saw them flinch as he drew closer. Brae and Ellod were talking to Haedara and Valharad in the New Tongue, the men and women ‘round them responding angrily.

He saw Lonell smirking, a few men with him talking loudly, Valharad stepping towards them.

“I should cut that smile off your face.”

Lonell laughed. “I would like to see you try that, Gravna*.”

Valharad lunged forward; Avros caught him first.

“Stop this now!” He said, holding a few other Caidonians back.

"We will when these sons of dogs stop provoking us!”

Bhaedren went to Lonnell, towering over the small man. The arrogant smirk on his face disappeared, a twinge of fear appearing there instead.

“They started it,” he said, slowly backing away. “It was no fault of mine.”

Baedren did not answer, but instead grabbed Lonnell by the collar of his shirt, then threw him back. Lonnell landed on his arse. no longer angry but humiliated. He slinked off, a few friends following suit, murmuring words between each other.

Avros spoke softly, holding his sister to his side; from where he stood Baedren saw that the bandage around her head was stained with blood. He walked closer and saw Avros’ face meet his, a grateful smile on his face. Bhaedren noticed that Ivra stood a bit taller, her eyes no longer lost in confusion and pain.

“Good tidings, Baedren Sorn Hurin.”

“Good tidings, Avros Da..Dal..”

“Daldanon.”

Baedren felt his ears burn with embarrassment.

Avros laughed. “It is all right—mine is not a common name, even with my people.”

He turned his gaze back to Ivra. “His sister is the one who saved you, sister.”

She smiled, small but sweet. “I remember, Avros.”

“How are you feeling?”

Ivra touched the bandage, wincing a bit from the pain.

“If your sister had not been there, I would have been worse, I would have…”

She was silent, her hand dropping down, eyes rolling back into her head.

“No!”

Bhaedren caught her before Avros could, her body limp in his arms.

Haidara and Valharad rushed forward.

“I thought your sister healed her.” Valharad said, anger still in his eyes.

Haidara unwound the bandage, seeing the deep cuts underneath.

“Where is she?”

Baedren gave a sharp, quick whistle; Ildris saw him and walked forward, quickening her pace as she saw Ivra in his arms.

“What has happened to her?” Haidara said.

“The wounds have opened up again.”

Yldris opened up a pouch at her side, taking out a small green vial before uncorking it.

Valharad’s brows furrowed, while Haidara looked on with curiosity.

“What is that?” she said.

Ildris looked back at her. “Something that will help.”

She placed a thin salve on the deepest part of the wound; Ivra cried out, clutching her head. They looked on as she gritted her teeth in pain, then all at once relaxed. Avros stood her back up, looking towards Ildris.

“Thank you, My Lady, for your help on this day.”

Ildris smiled. “I am no Lady, but your sister will need more care.”

“Where shall we take her?” Bhaedren asked.

Ildris looked at her brother, then back at the vial.

“This can hold her for a few days, but after that she will need to see her own healers.”

“The road to Old Harbor is a fortnight, and the daemons will take her first.”

“I will go with her.”

Bhaedren and Ildris looked to Avros.

He had his hand on Ivra’s shoulder, looking determined.

“If they try to touch her again, I will strike them down.”

“The road is far too dangerous now; you will need more of your people with you.” Ildris said.

“We cannot sacrifice more of our people for one woman.”

Avros went to Valharad, his jaw set and sea green eyes flared with anger.

“That woman is my sister, and I would gladly sacrifice a hundred of our people for her, as you would for your own.”

Valharad glared back, but was silent as Yldris lifted Ivra and let her lean against her side.

“Where are you taking her?”

“To the Healing Rooms,” Ildris answered Avros. “I can take care of her there.”

He started to walk toward her; Baedren stopped him with his hand.

“Let her go."

Avros looked at him. "I haven't been apart from my sister on this journey, and I intend to stay by her side."

"I promise she will be safe; I have seen worse wounds.”

Baedren's eye caught a small wound on Avros' hand.

"You should see to that before it worsens.”

Avros made to speak, but was instead pushed by him towards a small door at the side of the Ithilden. Baedren pushed against the heavy stone, opening up to a narrow hall inside.

“I smell...cooking?”

Baedren laughed. “Just through here.”

In the kitchen was Mella, slicing onions into a pot. She looked up once to Bhedren, then again as she dropped her knife and went to him.

“My son!” She said, seizing his great face in her hands and kissing him on both cheeks. Her brow creased when her eyes saw Avros.

“Who’s this?”

Avros bowed to her. “My name is Avros Daldanon, My Lady, your son fought valiantly today. I am grateful for his-’’

“Ay-what a wound that is!”

Avros looked at his hand.

“It is a scratch, really, I only wanted-”

“Enough of that! Where is my good medicine?”

Mella went to where dried herbs sat on a table, taking a small bowl of paste with her. The smell alone was enough to make Baedren’s eyes water.

“What is that?” Avros said, stifling a cough.

“Boneroot, Lady’s lace and a bit of honey; helps heal most wounds.”

She began to spread the thick paste on his cut.

“Many thanks, My Lady.”

Mells scoffed. “Not a lady, but thankee.”

“Ildris is in the Healing Rooms with his sister, Ivra.”

Mella gave a quick glance to Bhaedren.

“How bad?”

Baedren looked at her. “There’s been worse.”

“It was my fault,” Avros said, his face growing dark. “I swore I would protect her, and I failed.”

“You did not fail her, not while she is still alive." Mella said, adding more salve.

“But I should have—ah!”

The sting of the medicine nearly made Avros take his hand away. Mella stopped him before he did.

“Just a bit more now, love.” She said, using the soothing tone she had taught Ildris. Avros grimaced at the pain, but let Mella do her work.

"How long will your sister take?"

"As long as she has to." Baedren answered.

Mella tied a thin piece of cloth around his hand. He flexed and unflexed it, testing the strength. Mella stood and smiled.

"There-good as new!”

She clapped him on the back; Avros tried not to wince.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Mella waved her hand. “Anything for my son- just stay out of trouble for me then!”

Avros stood, bowing. “I thank you again, Mella.”

Bhaedren went to her, a giant to her squat frame.

“I’ll make sure to bring him to his sister.”

Mella looked back at Avros. “By my truth, your sister will live-you hear me now?”

He nodded. “Evei-kine*.”

Outside, the Caidonians had gathered on one side, Ithilians on the other. No one spoke, a few quick glances and glares were the only thing shared between them. Avros suddenly sat upon the ground. His head bent down as a small sigh left his lips, shoulders, a hand running through the ringlets of his hair. Baedren followed suit, sitting at his left. A few people stared, hushed words moving from their lips. Bhaedren ignored them and placed a large hand on Avros' shoulder.

"Are you alright?”

Avros looked over at him.

"How long have you been fighting those monsters?”

Bhaedren was silent for a moment, then spoke.

“Five years.”

“...You are all very brave, then.”

Before he could reply, Brae and Ellod walked over to them; she had a deep frown on her face, jaw tensed and blue eyes crackling with anger. Ellod turned to her and made to speak before he was silenced by her gaze.

“Those bloody fools, thinking that they decide what happens here; to us, to my people.”

Avros cleared his throat before speaking.

“I apologize, My Lady, my people did not mean disrespect to yours, only-”

Brae turned her head to him, for a moment confusion appearing on her face, then softening ever so slightly. She sat down beside Avros, loosening the belt to her sword and letting it fall beside her. Ellod gave a quick look to Bhaedren, then moved to his side.

“How is she?”

Brae did not look at Avros but instead held Baedren’s eye, gaze unwavering.

“It is too early to say, but there is no better healer than Ildris.” He said.

She nodded. “If only those vraten* understood that.”

“Then what do you think we should do?”

Brae was silent, face turning the thought over in her head, lips pursed in thought. Minutes passed, with Avros, Bhaedren and Ellod glancing long looks at each other without words.

“We let them stay.”

Avros bowed his head. “Many thanks, My Lady. I promise my people will be faithful to your cause.”

“I am not doing it for your people, Avros Daldanon; I do it for mine.”

He nodded, looking back at Baedren with a meek expression on his face.

“We did not survive this day without them, Brae.” Baedren said.

Her head turned sharply towards him.

“If you think I am going to kiss their pompous, fat-”

She would have continued, had there not been another commotion in the courtyard. There, Lord Othalom walked swiftly towards the gate, a trail of his people behind him, speaking words Bhaedren could not understand.

“I demand you open these gates at once!”

For a moment, everyone there was speechless.

*Evei-kine: Thank you, in the language of Caidon, known colloquially as Cailin.

*Vraten (pl. for vrata) : Ithilian word for idiot, or more commonly jackass.