Joan couldn’t help but stare at the group of five men blocking their path. Of all the issues that could have arisen on the trip, this was certainly not one of the ones she’d expected.
“Well? Get down from there,” the man in front yelled again.
“You’re actually trying to rob us?” Joan asked before glancing back at the three behind them.
“Joan, please, not now,” Bauteut said softly.
“But it’s just so--”
“Joan!” Bauteut yelled, turning to glare at her. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” Joan said with a sheepish smile. “It just hasn’t happened in so long. It’s kind of silly.”
“Get off your horses. All of you,” the man yelled again, lifting his spear and pointing the tip at her. “That includes you, little girl.”
“You really don’t want to do this,” Joan said before glancing down to her swords. Both were now secured to the side of the horse, the one that Searle had retrieved for her and the one that she had been gifted by Ywain. “He’s the chosen, you know,” she said, motioning to Searle. “Of the shield.”
That earned a reaction. A few of the men stepped back, quickly distancing themselves. The man in front merely shook his head. “Of course he is, and I’m a chosen myself. Can’t you see my nice pretty chosen spear?” he asked.
“You’re not Andreas,” Joan said with a roll of her eyes. “For one thing, his hair is a nice red. And he’s a bit taller than you, likely…” She trailed off when she tried to remember how old he would be about now. He had only been a little older than her as the hero, so she imagined in his late teens by now. “Younger than you, I think? How old are you?”
To her surprise, they didn’t look alarmed anymore, instead just confused. “Andreas?” the man asked.
“Chosen of the Spear. You said you were him. You really want to do this?” Joan asked before shaking her head. “Searle, can we?”
“Joan, my job is to protect you in case--” Searle said, before she cut him off.
“Fine,” Joan said before slowly sliding out of the saddle. She could see the relief on these would-be bandit’s faces and felt a small wave of glee at knowing they’d be gone soon. She waited for Searle to climb down from their mounts before talking again. “You take the five in front, I’ve got the three in back. Bauteut, watch the horses.”
“Wait, what?” Bauteut asked, but Joan ignored her and flung the reins to the side, towards the confused healer. She then ran at the three behind them, her hand reaching out. The spell only took a moment to cast and then her sword appeared in her hand. More importantly, she had the element of surprise and the three obviously hadn’t been expecting a child to charge them. Her magic washed over her body, strengthening her before she slammed her shoulder into the nearest one, hitting him right in the stomach and sending him flying back to crash to the ground. She then turned her attention to the other two.
The first strike seemed to have washed away some of their confusion, but now she was far closer than she had been. One was trying to bring his spear down on her head, wielding it almost like a long, narrow club. She stepped to the right and let the weapon fly past her before lifting her foot and stomping down on the shaft. It tore from his grip and she pulled her blade back, stabbing it up and through the bottom of his jaw, up into his skull. She pulled the blade back a moment later, letting the body fall.
Movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her attention to the last of her three. She slashed her sword down, narrowly deflecting the tip of the spear with her blade, though the edge still grazed along her arm. He pulled it back and then thrust again, struggling desperately to get a good stab on her.
The range advantage was annoying, but his stabs were inexperienced and awkward. She backed away a little, watching each thrust and waiting for him to over extend just a little before--
Her thoughts were broken when suddenly an arm wrapped around her neck from behind, nearly yanking her off her feet.
“Stab her!” the man yelled. She realized who it was a moment too late. The man she had shoulder charged. How had she not noticed him getting up? Why hadn’t she been paying more attention? She felt a moment of panic when she saw the spear being drawn back and about to thrust.
Joan focused her magic and cast a quick spell, three shards of ice formed in the air in front of her and launching straight at the man. He pulled back, letting out a startled cry when one of the shards of ice embedded in his arm, the other two going off wildly. She reversed the grip on her sword before plunging it back into the man holding her. His grip loosened and she managed to pull herself free, rolling away from him and pulling her sword from his side. The wound wasn’t fatal, but it had done more damage than she would have normally hoped. A second swing of her sword caught him just beneath the chin, cutting open his throat.
Joan then turned to the last man who stared at her, his eyes wide and his grip on his spear shaking. She took a single step forward and he, in response, turned and ran. For a moment she considered chasing him before she shook her head. She glanced towards Searle who, unsurprisingly, was standing over three bodies, the other two running. She ran a finger down her sword blade, using her magic to wash away the blood from it. “That went better than expected.”
“You killed them,” Bauteut said, her eyes locked on the two men.
Joan blinked a few times before glancing back at the pair. She then shrugged. “Yes, I did. They tried to kill me, too. I was just better at it.”
“But you killed them. They were just--” Bauteut said, unable to take her eyes off the corpses.
“I’ve killed lots of people,” Joan said. “They’d have killed me if they’d had the chance. They certainly never--” Her words were shattered by sudden memories flooding her. The screams as their guards struggled to fight off the ambush the bandits had laid. Her father offering them gold, but being denied. Kneeling before her father’s body, tears in her eyes, before she took up her father’s sword. How old had she been, then? The event that had first signified her coming as the ‘Hero’. The lone survivor. The memory washed over her, a thousand different iterations of the same event, linking in her brain while she struggled to process it. When the wave of memories finally relented, she was sitting on the ground, Bauteut over her, a hand against her forehead.
“Joan? Are you okay? You’re so pale,” Bauteut said softly.
“Bad memories,” Joan mumbled gentle before shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. They’d have killed us, I killed them first.”
“You don’t know that,” Bauteut said before reaching down. “Here, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s not that bad,” Joan said before glancing down at the small cut where the spear had nicked her. If she was still the Hero, the wound would have already healed. At least it had stopped bleeding. “I’m fine, really.”
“For you, it’s not that bad,” Bauteut said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Still, best to take care of it now before you make it worse.” The healer’s hand went over the wound and, a moment later, she could feel it close. “Better?”
Joan nodded. “I probably could have done that myself. I know a few self healing spells.”
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“You don’t need to tell me you’re competent, I know,” Bauteut said with a roll of her eyes. “Just say thank you.”
Joan’s cheeks turned a little red and she nodded. “Right. Thank you. Sorry. We should move the rest of the bodies off the road.”
“They’re not dead,” Searle said, motioning to the three he fought.
Joan glanced over to the three on the ground before sighing. She wanted to be surprised, but she really couldn’t be. He was a chosen, they would have had a hard time even hurting Searle, let alone killing him. Now that he had the shield he was far stronger than they could ever hope to be. She glanced down to the sword in her hand and gave another soft sigh. She couldn’t have won without killing them, even when she hit that first man full force he had only been down for a few seconds. On top of that, she’d lost focus on him entirely. In the end, those who were truly strong didn’t have to kill. She had such a long way to go before she’d be ready. She walked to her horse and sheathed her blade. “We should leave them.”
“What?” Bauteut asked. “Shouldn’t we at least tie them up or something first?”
“Not much point to it,” Joan said before glancing back. “Once we’re gone, the others will come back and untie them. Hopefully they’ve learned their lesson. Alternatively, we can just kill them. Though, if I can be completely honest? I’d rather not.”
“Oh?” Bauteut asked. “Not so bloodthirsty now, then?”
“It’s one thing to kill someone who is trying to stab you,” Joan said. “It’s another to kill someone who’s unable to fight back.” She paused for a moment before glancing around. The words had just come out without her thinking, but now that she did she couldn’t help but consider them. When she had been the Hero was that how she had felt? The Hero had often taken prisoners, but that was because he was powerful. If they should be spared or not hadn’t even entered into her mind back then, it was just what the Hero did. Because she had been the Hero. But now those words felt different when she said them. Could she afford to live by that rule now?
“Joan?” Searle asked.
“Nothing, sorry,” Joan said before quickly shaking her head and trying to clear her mind. “We need to get going.”
“Yeah, need to rush off to our deaths, right?” Bauteut asked with a small shake of her head. “Wouldn’t want to be late for that.”
“It’s really not that bad,” Joan said with a smile before climbing back into her saddle. “We won’t have to go very far into the woods at all before I can get us to the fae.”
“Fair enough,” Bauteut said. “So all we need to do is sneak through the front lines, first.”
“That won’t be too hard,” Joan said. “We just have to wait in camp until nightfall. We’ll have to go on foot, but sneaking along will be easy and they might be able to give us a distraction,” she said before lightly nudging her horse forward.
“They?” Bauteut asked.
“Our forces,” Joan said with a small smile. “We just wait for them to draw the focus of the demons and--”
“Why in the world would they do that?” Bauteut asked.
Joan opened her mouth to answer, only to pause a moment when the thought occurred. Why WOULD they do that? There had been more times than she could count where they’d depended on such distractions to help them get to where they needed to go. The first trip into the demon lands had been using that method. But she had been the hero then.
It had always gone so smoothly in her past lives she’d never even considered it not going well this time. Worse than that, she already knew the prince opposed this plan. She glanced to Searle for a moment. He could invoke his authority to try and force his way through, but there was no guarantee that would work. Especially if they believed that she might be leading them right into a trap.
Joan mentally screamed at herself and barely resisted the urge to smack her head down into her mount’s mane. What was WRONG with her? How could she already mess everything up so badly? Just because it was easy before didn’t mean it would be easy now.
“Damn it,” Joan said softly.
“Joan?” Bauteut asked.
“I’m an idiot,” Joan said.
“You’re not an idiot,” Searle said before speeding up his horse a little to ride besides her. “You know what we’re going to suspect, right? So let’s just start from there.”
Joan nodded and tried to focus on what was to come. When she saw the front lines, she’d come up with a plan, for now she just had to focus on what she did know. “When we get to the fae, they’ll test us. Well, they’ll test Searle.”
“They will? Why me?” Searle asked.
Her memories of her encounters with the fae filled her mind. The Hero and all of the chosen walking into the woods. All eight of them. Discovering the ritual had been a pain, but at least hadn’t required much magic or been very hard. Anyone could have done it and as she was she was certain she could finish it in a few minutes if need be. All it would take was a simple incantation and a little blood.
Of course, getting the boon of the fae hadn’t been easy. The Hero had been pulled away from the others and trapped for days in one of their glamours, facing a ‘challenge’ as they called it. Obviously as the strongest of them, challenging him was the proper choice, but it hadn’t been his strength that was tested. The challenge was simple enough, ‘defeat that which you have never overcome’. Back then it had been an older man who he had played board games with. He’d tried to find a way out, any way out, even killing the old man. But, in the end, he’d just had to play and play, over and over, until he finally beat him. It had been a close game and even now she wasn’t sure she could win if she had to do it again.
“You’ll be taken into one of their glamours,” Joan said to Searle. “As the strongest of us, they’ll test you to a challenge to ‘defeat that which you have never overcome’. What the challenge will be, specifically, I can’t say. It might be a fight, a game, it might even be riddles.”
“What happens if I fail?” Searle asked.
“You just keep trying,” Joan said. “You can give up, but if you do, well, then that’s it. It could take days, weeks, I don’t know.” Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Bauteut clenching her reins tightly but, mercifully, the girl didn’t say a word. She couldn’t help but appreciate that. She suspected the healer wanted desperately to know how she knew all that. “If you fail, I think you’ll just get an opportunity to try again.”
Searle nodded slowly. “What if it’s a different challenge?”
“It never was before,” Joan said before cringing.
“Before?” Bauteut asked.
“Nothing,” Joan said, shaking her head.
“When you say stuff like that, it only makes it more confusing. I wish you’d just trust me already,” Bauteut said.
“Even if I’m not entirely a seer, I kind of am,” Joan said. “In a way. Please, just trust me for now. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? Really?” Bauteut asked.
“Mostly,” Joan said before glancing back to Searle. This was going to be even more dangerous than she thought, though. Getting past the demons would have been hard enough, but sneaking through both lines might be impossible. She lifted a hand to her throat. If the prince found them, would he have her executed rather than risk her leading the chosen astray? Possibly. “Searle?”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Here,” Joan said before reaching back into her saddlebag and rummaging through it for a moment before she found her book. Locked and secured, just like she liked it. She then reached up and pulled the chain and key off her neck, lifting it out from under her tunic. She then held both out to him.
“What?” Searle asked.
“If anything happens to me I want you to read everything in this. It has all the information about the other chosen I have, about what’s to come. It also has the ritual for the fae,” Joan said. “Make sure all of the chosen read it, then. It’s not perfect and there’s a lot missing still. But I think if you all work together, you’ll be able to use it to fix everything.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Searle said before sitting up straight. “I promised Hardwin I would--”
“If the choice comes between me or the world, Hardwin knows which is more important,” Joan said, cutting him off. “Besides, nothing will probably happen. But just in case something does, this is the best option.”
Searle looked torn, but very slowly he reached out and took the pair before staring at them. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Joan. I promise.”
Joan stared at him for a moment before glancing away and nudging her horse a little faster. She really wanted to believe that, but she knew it wasn’t likely. If something happened to her, it wouldn’t be because he let it. The longer things went the more dangerous they would get and, no matter how much she wished she could stand with the chosen forever, the fact of the matter was that it was only a matter of time before she’d have no place besides them. “I know, Searle.”