Lera prayed.

Her knees hurt. She wasn’t used to praying for so long. It had been hours since the others had departed. She had spent the entire time in prayer, pleading with Úlæ to protect her friends.

She wasn’t usually this devout. Even before the wars she never prayed for more than an hour at a time. There was too much work to do in the nunnery: cleaning; cooking; tending the animals; more cleaning; learning doctrine; even more cleaning. There was always an awful lot of cleaning to do. During the war there was even less time, and more to do: travelling; setting up the infirmaries; tending to the the injured; offering solace to the dying. She was exhausted almost from the moment she woke.

Even though this journey had been hard on her physically, she spent long hours just walking or talking with Falduin. That was a blessed change. It had given her time to think, to ponder her future.

Up until Heric had contacted her, she had no clear direction, now that she was no longer a Sister of Axiom. For months she had wandered the coastal villages and hamlets offering liturgical and clerical services. She earnt a meagre, but sustainable living.

She had been warned about roguish elements that might attack a lone preacher. There were many soldiers that had found life after the wars difficult, and had turned to banditry in order to survive. She had heard ghastly stories of small groups being assaulted, even murdered. Yet she never even witnessed one incident on the road. Clearly, Úlæ was looking out for her well-being.

Then as winter set in, she made for Milardus, and that’s where she had remained. It offered little in the way of work, her small supply of coins disappeared rapidly, but there was always a place to sleep and food to come-by. That was not always the case on the road. However, with her money almost spent, by Spring she would need to return to wandering or find some other means.

She considered selling her arms and armour. It was worth a fortune, and would have given her more time to decide, but that would make her sacrifices worthless.

Then as if delivering a blessing, Heric contacted her unexpectedly (she hadn’t seen him since Adanna’s funereal), and everything changed. She had a purpose, and that felt good. Better than she had believed possible.

Then came The Wondrous Blessing: the eagle crest upon her surcoat. What did that mean? She truly didn’t know.

Ifonsa’s words kept coming back to her: The Sisters of Lera. It was a crass name, and she would never be so egocentric, but the idea was appealing. To create a group of priestesses that could not just tend to the injured, lame and diseased, but defend the weak and downtrodden. Was such a thing possible?

A rustling amongst the undergrowth attracted her notice. The wind? The breeze had picked up over the last hour or so. She could see clouds in the sky. Perhaps rain was in the offing.

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A footfall. Had her friends returned?

No, there was no signal. Heric had made it clear the hoot of a brown owl would announce their arrival. He made all of them practise it before they left. That had brought about several moments of mirth as they rehearsed.

Another footstep. Someone moving closer.

Their camp was well off the road, and hidden within a grove of trees. There was no fire to attract notice, and Ifonsa had made certain none of their own tracks could lead anyone to them. Then how had the site been discovered?

More movement off to the side. Someone else.

“I think I can see it,” whispered a voice not far in front of her.

“Ssssh!” a voice said to her left.

Lera quietly donned her helmet and retrieved her spear. She could see three forms amongst the trees. Standing, she readied her weapon.

“There’s someone there,” came the first voice.

“Sssh!” cried the second voice.

She was more prepared this time. She knew what to expected. She glided toward the first voice, her spear held low. They must have heard her moving. Yet there was no reaction. She struck hard and fast, just as she had been taught aiming for the middle of the silhouette. She felt the point hit. An explosion of breath. She twisted and withdrew the spear, then stepped towards the second voice. Behind she heard the man fall amongst the leaf litter.

“Shut up!” the second one cried.

It led her straight toward him. She struck again, and this time there was no sound beyond his body hitting the ground.

Lera turned toward the remaining man. He stood further back from the others.

“Fellas?” he whispered.

Lera moved towards him.

She saw him scrabble with something in his hand. A beam of brilliant light radiated from the lantern as he unhooded it. The bandit took one look at Lera bearing down upon him, and ran screaming away.

Lera ran after, but the armour weighed her down too much. She realised she’d never catch him.

She halted and listened to his cries as he fled, “Eagle Knight! Eagle Knight!”

Afterwards, she said prayers over the two she had slain. Her spear had punched right through their armour, which felt very thin and fragile to her touch. Much less resilient than even Ganthe’s jerkin.

Then as she dragged the second one away from their grove, she heard a new sound: distant popping followed by a roar.

Both were coming from the direction of the town.