Soldiers.
Ferene sat back in her chair, glad to be out of the center of the room. The tavern at the crossroads had been built expecting more visitors than it got. The main room was mostly empty, several long tables in the center of the room, dwarfed by the size of it. Ferene's small table, pushed against the wall, gave her a good view of the room as she ate, watching people come and go. Some of the transient patrons rented rooms, but most would save money by sleeping in their wagons outside.
Her plate was empty now, and she watched as eight soldiers walked in and took over the largest table. They carried spears, wore chainmail under maroon red, unbuttoned jackets and metal helmets on their heads.
Ferene had seen plenty of city guards before, but this group was different. The way they wore their armor, the way they sat down, several of them looking around the room. One of them removed his helmet, placing it on the table, revealing short-cut brown hair. They laughed and yelled at the serving lady to bring them food.
Soldiers didn't belong here.
The independent lands, as it was called, was a vast plain dotted with city-states, crisscrossed with roads bordered by farmsteads. There were no soldiers here, just city guards, sometimes a militia. It was bandit country, the spaces between the cities open for anyone to do whatever they liked. No kings making rulings, no soldiers marching out to stop criminals that pillaged the lands, since nobody owned the lands outside of the cities. Farmers paid for protection to groups just as lawless as the thieves they offered protection from.
Kingdoms existed to the east, to the west, and to the south. The emptiness to the north held nothing. The eastern kingdoms were closest. Perhaps the soldiers were from there. Ferene watched them as they ate and drank, showing off money as they paid. Confidence. She waited, watching them.
An old man entered, eventually, and walked up to the group. All of their talking stopped as they turned to look at him. The man stared back. Silence filled the room as the few people left at the other tables quieted.
“Problem, old man?” One of the soldiers asked.
“The whole lot of you are a disgrace.” The soldiers laughed as the man stood there, arms crossed.
“You want to do something about it?”
“I'm not going to give you an excuse to hit me. Not in this town. You have to behave here, but I know what you do outside. Stealing, bullying, beating up anyone who tries to fight back. The king's men, acting like that. Shameful. Completely shameful.”
“Hey Lebb, did he say anything that sounded odd to you?” The man who took his helmet off said, looking to one of his comrades.
“He said a few things that sounded odd to me. Which one in particular were you talking about? The part where he said we're the king's men?”
“Well, that part was odd, since the King sent a whole bunch of his men away. But I was more thinkin about the part where he thinks we have to behave since we're in this shithole of a town. They've got what, ten guys as the town watch? Half of 'em older 'n this guy, the other half too young to know how to fight.” He laughed, and the others followed. The old man suddenly looked nervous. The people at the other tables looked away.
“You're right about that, Cap'n. This guy comes up, callin' us names and all, I think maybe we could hit 'im a few times, show 'im what's what about what. Can't 'ave any old geezer talkin' 'bout fine free citizens like ourselves that way, can we?”
“You're right, Lebb. Why don't you knock some manners into him?”
The one called Lebb stood up, and the old man took a step back. Lebb lurched forward, grabbing the man by the shoulder as he turned to flee. Smiling, he punched the man in the gut, folding him over.
Ferene slammed into Lebb, lowering herself and sending him tumbling with her shoulder. She turned, holding her sword in one hand, facing the group at the table as she pushed the old man towards the door with her other hand. Two of the soldiers stood up, picking up their spears. The captain remained seated, taking a pull from his drink.
The spacious tavern and sparse, spread out tables left plenty of room for movement. The two standing soldiers moved to surround Ferene. She ran at one, swinging her sword down, attempting to take him out of the fight before she was surrounded. He parried her first strike with his spear, then blocked the second, trying to stall for time. Her third swing cut his spear in half.
His eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards. Ferene pursued him, swinging again. He tried to stop her attack with half of his weapon, but her attack took him in the side, her sword biting through his armor. Putting her leg on his chest, she pushed him down, pulling her weapon free. As he lay bleeding on the floor, the other patrons started to flee, the reality of the situation finally settling in. Ferene turned to the other soldier.
He attacked, stabbing at her with his spear. She batted the hit away, but he thrust again, and again. She found herself driven backwards, stepping over the body of the man she had already cut as he writhed on the floor, smearing his blood over the floorboards. The other soldiers stood up, grabbing their weapons, but didn't advance on her.
Ferene parried again, then spun forward, making an attack of her own, thrusting her sword forward. He pushed the attack to the side, but Ferene continued forward. He attempted to trip her as she moved past him, but she hopped over the butt of his spear, spinning around and attacking again, taking the center of the room for herself and pinning him against the wall. She didn't let up her attack, striking over and over again, knocking his weapon from his hands before stabbing straight through his armor, the tip of her sword snapping one of the ringlets as she rammed it into his stomach.
Turning to face the group at the table, Ferene paused. Several of them were pushing the table back, making a space. The rest of them stood, facing her, the captain in the middle, smiling at her. Lebb was beside him, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glared at her.
Running, full speed, Ferene swung at the captain. He brought his spear around, tapping her sword to the side. She almost ended up hitting Lebb, who stepped back, then swung his own spear up at her, slamming the butt into her side. Twirling backwards, out of their range, Ferene paused, holding her weapon upwards. The strike hurt, but he could have stabbed her. She watched as the six of them started to spread out, moving to surround her. They were already between her and the door. Retreat wasn't an option. She feinted towards one of the ones moving to surround her, and he immediately brought up his weapon, ready to defend himself. Re-centering, Ferene glanced towards the others. They were grinning. She wasn't going to defeat one before the others attacked her.
“Want to give up?” The captain asked, seeing her hesitate. “Might be able to fight again, if you live, rather than ending up dead on the floor.”
She lunged forward again, swinging her sword at him in a wide horizontal arc. He pushed the attack upwards, and she stepped into the space created, holding her sword with one hand as she shoved her shoulder into him. Pushing him aside, she tried to run for the door, but was caught as someone swept her legs out from under her, dropping her to the ground. Immediately, a blow landed on her wrist, her gauntlet shaking under the force, causing her to drop her sword.
Ferene kicked out, once, trying to bring someone down, but after taking a blow to the stomach, she curled into a ball, trying just to protect herself as they swung repeatedly at her with the blunt ends of their spears.
Pain.
Pain.
In the end, was it all hopeless? She couldn't fight them. She didn't know how many outlaws she had killed, but a single group of trained soldiers, working together, was too much for her. Was she anything more than a girl with a sword? She had survived and won not with skill, but with speed, brutality, and intimidation, fueled by anger.
The blows stopped. She lay still, curled up, her arms, legs, and back hurting. It all hurt. Someone tied her wrists together, and dragged her along the ground. More pain. Voices, talking. She couldn't hear over the pain. She needed to kill them, but she couldn't.
Someone pulled her to her knees, and ripped off her armor, then her boots, then her shirt, slicing her sleeves from behind. She opened her eyes. She was in the center of town, the soldier captain sitting on a wooden box in front of her, Lebb standing behind him, glaring at her. The others stood a bit back, and behind them, peering out from doorways, were the townsfolk. There might be a few travelers behind her, but she couldn't see them.
“You killed two of my men.”
Ferene stayed silent, staring at him, shivering in the cold air. To her left, the sun was setting, making the small, dirty town red. A few houses, centered around the tavern, situated on a major road. She figured this was where she was going to die.
“I say my men, but they were really Lebb's friends. He and those two joined up with the rest of us recently. He's more upset about it than I am. I like good fighters, I can respect you for trying. He's mad you killed his pals.”
As she attempted to push herself to her feet, the man behind her shoved her back to her knees. The captain ignored this, and kept talking.
“I know a person who is interested in buying people. Figure someone like you might be worth a bit to him. So we were going to take you there. Thing is, Lebb thinks you haven't been punished enough for what you did. Thinks we should let him do whatever he wants with you for a night. Can't say I'm too fond of treating prisoners badly, but, none of us are the soldiers we used to be.”
Lebb was still glaring at her, so she turned and glared up at him. Her attention made him smile. She wanted to kill all of them, but she wanted to kill him more.
“So here's what I figure. I let you and him fight it out – hand to hand, no weapons. Just wrestling. If you can make him yield, we'll keep him away from you. If you can't, we tie you back up and leave you together for the night. You try to run, we kill you. I figure that's all fair. He gets a chance at revenge, you get a chance to defend yourself. Rest of us get some entertainment. You want a fair fight?”
Ferene kept her gaze on Lebb for a moment, then looked back to the captain. “He just has to say he yields?”
“Yeah, just that.”
“I'll do it.”
Lebb smiled. The captain smiled. The other soldiers immediately started talking. The one behind her pulled her to her feet, and she felt the ropes drop off her wrists. She stood up, bare feet on the dirt, wearing only her leggings and a chest wrap. Lebb took off his shirt and stepped forward, falling into a fighting stance, legs wide, arms out, hands open. Looking around, Ferene saw the man behind her dragging his foot along the ground, making a circle in the dirt around them. It wasn't much space, but it was enough.
“Go ahead then, get on with it.” The captain said, and clapped his hands once.
Ferene took a step to the side, and watched as Lebb stepped the other way, circling her. He was shorter than her, giving her the advantage in reach. Stepping forward, she threw an experimental punch. He ducked under it, stepping in, grabbing her shoulders, shoving her down and backwards. Her feet slid on the dirt for a moment, then she toppled backwards, barely managing to land on her rear. Lebb didn't push his advantage, instead stepping back, smiling, waiting. To him, this was just sport, entertainment, the kind she'd seen in larger cities. Fake fighting, sometimes someone might get injured but nobody was truly trying to hurt each other.
Since she was a child, Ferene always fought to survive. Losing meant less food at best, and death at worst. Every single fight was serious, and completely real.
Also, this was a perfect opportunity to kill another one of these soldiers.
She dashed forward, ducking under his hands as he attempted to grab her, and hit the ground. She kicked out, driving her foot into his knee. He took the hit, his leg sliding back, putting his weight on the other leg. She kicked at his ankle, and he dropped to the ground next to her. As he grabbed her arm, she drove her hand into his neck. He gasped for air, letting go of her. She tried to hit him again, but he pushed her away. Both of them scrambled to their feet.
One hand on his chest, Lebb breathed loudly, slowly, staring at her in shock. Ferene rushed him again, knocking him to the ground as he was still recovering. She knelt on top of him, raised both her hands up. He opened his mouth, starting to form words, and she brought both her hands to the side of his head. Whatever he was going to say turned into a wordless noise as she dislocated his jaw. He kept making those noises as she wrapped her hands around his neck, strangling him. Lebb kicked, tried to bring his hands up, tried to push her off, but she slammed his head against the ground once, then again, pressing her thumbs into his throat. The man clawed at her, then at the dirt, squirming, his eyes wide, his mouth open, but unable to speak.
Some of the other men stood up, but the captain raised his hand, waving them back. They all watched, some grinning, some horrified, some just frowning, as she killed Lebb.
When he stopped moving, she stood up, turning to look at the captain. Panting, covered in dirt, half naked, she smiled at him. He nodded to her, then waved a hand. One of the other soldiers stepped forward, cautiously, holding a rope.
“I can promise you that none of us will be hurting you, but we're going to have to tie you back up. Looks like you might try to kill the rest of us, and I can't have that. These are all members of my squad, and I'm responsible for their safety.”
She looked at the man on the ground, holding out her hands to the man with the rope.
“Oh, don't worry about Lebb. Him and the other two, we didn't really like them. Not trained the same. New recruits that followed us. No sense.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“You're all just thugs.”
He laughed as the man tied her arms together, then her feet, then pushed her over. She fell to the ground beside the body. Three of the eight was a good number, especially if they weren't going to kill her. She'd find a way to kill the others. She thought, before, that it was over, but she had been given another chance. They all deserved to die, and she would kill them. Ferene just needed to figure out how.
The first night, she sat on the floor in one of the rooms of the tavern, her arms tied over her head, her ankles tied together. The captain threw a blanket over her and slept in the bed. If she could free herself, it would be easy to kill him, take his knife, and then go hunt the others. The ropes did not loosen no matter how much she struggled, and the pain got worse. Everything hurt, and she found she couldn't even sleep in the uncomfortable position.
The first day, they gave her Lebb's shirt and jacket. His chainmail, helmet, and other belongings they threw in a wide, wheeled wagon. The bed was divided into two sections, one with all of their spare weapons and gear, and the other with various sacks and boxes, and finally Ferene herself. Reduced to luggage, her arms and legs still tied, she lay on her side, the wooden planks under her, her forehead pressed against a crate. They had two donkeys, which pulled the wagon as most of them walked. If she rolled halfway over, she could see the captain on his horse, riding alongside them. Lebb's shirt was too short for her, leaving a gap at her waist, but the jacket covered that. At the very least, she wasn't cold. Eventually, she found herself falling asleep.
Ferene woke up laying on the ground, a sharp pain in her side. Possibly better than the dull pain she had been feeling, and the soreness of sleeping on the hard wood. One of them had dumped her out of the back of the wagon, onto the dirt. Looking around, she saw the captain leaning against a fence, holding his horse's reins. They had apparently come to a rest at a farmstead. Struggling to her knees, she turned towards the house, watching as two of the men approached.
“Are you robbing these people?”
“Ah, so you can talk. You've been silent for so long I thought you had forgotten.” The captain smiled at her. “We aren't robbing these people. We are simply asking them for what they owe the local government. Taxes, protection money, whatever. We tell them it's time to pay, and stand there looking intimidating and official, and they hand it over. If you have well cared for armor, uniform, and a weapon – you know, basically the opposite of your outfit – and people tend to do what you say. Gives you an air of authority.”
Instead of replying, Ferene rolled over, getting her knees under her and pushing herself upright so she could sit on her ankles. The captain watched her, still smiling. “Would you like to answer some questions for me? If you're in the mood to talk, that is. I was wondering about that sword of yours. Where did you get it?”
Continuing to ignore him, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and did her best to stretch. Flexing one shoulder, then the other, and rubbing her hands along the backs of her legs. Everything hurt, and it was not getting better. The captain watched her for a moment, then sighed, mounting his horse again and riding towards the house.
Ferene waited, taking the time to try to ease her soreness as the two men returned, meeting the captain and tossing him a sack, which he placed on the wagon. At his signal, Ferene found herself picked up and placed back on top of the wagon.
That night, she was tied to a tree. The five men made camp off to the side of the road, pulling dried meats out of the sack. The captain stared at her, apparently considering, before shoving a piece at her face.
“Eat.”
She glared at him.
With his other hand, he held up a canteen. “You haven't eaten or drank anything all day. A human would be begging for water right now, if they were capable of speaking at all. You aren't human, but you must have limits. Do what you need to survive.”
It was easy to focus just on her pain and soreness and ignore the rest, but her mouth was dry and her stomach was empty. Jerking against the ropes, she pulled herself upwards slightly. “Hands.”
He laughed at her. “I saw you kill a man with those hands. You're a wild animal, and I'm going to keep you restrained like one. You're going to have to be fed, and if you bite me I'm going to remove your teeth. Now, drink.” He opened the canteen, holding it in front of her at an angle.
There was nothing more she wanted to do than to kill him. Ferene leaned forward, sticking her head out, tilted back, and opening her mouth. He poured water down her throat. She swallowed, and opened her mouth again. The man was smiling at her as he did this, and she could hear laughter from the others. With how good the water tasted, she didn't care. Already, she wanted to kill them, embarrassing her like this didn't change that. After her third mouthful of water, he stopped, and held out the dried meat again. She bit down on it, pulling it into her mouth and chewing.
“Seeing that you are an animal, my men and I have been discussing what we should name you, for the short time you'll be with us. They aren't very creative. Filth is the most popular, followed by Maddy.”
Swallowing, Ferene leaned back against the tree, her eyes falling to the ground. She wasn't tired, after having slept in the wagon, and probably wouldn't be able to sleep with her arms tied above her head again. At least she was less thirsty now.
“So. Filth, or Maddy? Or do you have another idea?”
With food and water, she needed to think of a way to escape. Tomorrow might be a good time for it, depending on if they relaxed around her or not. She could have, potentially, been more talkative, but talking was difficult even when she didn't want to kill the people around her. She had to keep thinking, though. The moment in the town when she had thought it was all over haunted her.
“Stinky.” The captain said again, watching her. “How about we call you Stinky?”
“Ferene.”
“What was that?”
“My name is Ferene. I'm going to kill all of you.”
He laughed at her. “Filth was close, then! We'll go with that.”
Once more, Ferene glared at him, and he walked back to the others. At least she had been fed.
The second day, she was no longer allowed to ride on the wagon. After untying her feet, they took that end of the rope and tied it to one of the posts on the wagon, and slapped the donkeys. Ferene found herself walking behind it, her hands in the air in front of her. On one hand, it meant she had a chance to stretch her legs. On the other, she had not gotten any sleep while tied to the tree, and planned to sleep on top of the uncomfortable wagon. As the day wore on, she found herself struggling against exhaustion.
Eventually, her mind broke through the haze and started working. She slowed, letting herself be pulled forward, stumbling. She trotted for a bit, getting as close to the wagon as possible, then slowed again, the rope quickly going taut and pulling her forward again. Ferene made an even bigger show of stumbling forward, letting her feet drag for a bit. None of the men cared, and she almost lost a boot in the act before she scrambled to her feet again, hopping on one foot to stomp the boot back into place.
Her hope had been to get them to lengthen the rope, and potentially use it as a weapon. She might be able to disable one of them by running sideways and wrapping the rope around him, taking him down and using his weapon in both hands. Possibly kill one or two more of them, but they ignored her, ruining her plan. Clenching her jaw, she matched pace with the wagon, accepting defeat, for now.
Halfway through the day, they stopped. Once again, the captain gave her water and a piece of dried meat. Two of the soldiers left, coming back after several hours, carrying a large bag and laughing. She could make out several buildings in the direction they came back from as she sat on the ground, panting.
“Problem, boss. They didn't believe the story.” One of the men said, as the other placed the bag in the wagon.
“You still got paid, didn't you?”
“We did, but we had to stab one of them. Left the man bleeding on the ground, the others begging us to leave. Don't think he'll be surviving, without a doctor.”
The captain cursed. “It's unfortunate, but sometimes that is going to happen. We should avoid this place next time. They might hold a grudge, or set a trap. Not worth the risk.”
The men nodded, and the captain swung himself back up on his horse. Ferene was pulled to her feet as the wagon started to move again.
For the third night, they stopped at a sort of camp ground, and set up a fire. Ferene was tied to a post, her arms over her head, and an extra rope around her waist. Once more, she had water poured down her throat and food shoved into her mouth. The captain did not talk to her this time, sitting around the campfire, talking with his men. Long, low stone benches made a circle for them to enjoy the heat as Ferene watched from a distance. She found herself dozing off this time, staying up all day and all night, and marching the entire day, leaving her exhausted.
A sudden lack of chatter, alongside some footsteps, made her fully alert. She tried to stand up, but just pulled against the rope around her waist. Someone had walked into the circle, and the men had gone silent.
Ferene had never met a woman as tall as she was. She stared upwards at the woman who walked into the circle and sat down across from the captain, placing her spear across her lap. With both of them sitting down, she was taller than he was, and he was only a bit taller than Ferene. She wore no jacket, her metal breastplate exposed, polished steel reflecting the light of the fire. A long knife hung at her belt.
Ferene's eyes were drawn upwards, though. Her short-cut, dark red hair did nothing to conceal the brown flesh of ears jutting outwards from her head like spikes. That one detail took her entire focus, a singular point drawing her vision towards it, until she spoke, breaking the spell.
“Sergeant Niffrem, while it was not difficult to track you down, it was very annoying to do so. You have left quite an impression behind you, everywhere you stopped.”
The captain – the sergeant? - sat up straight, his back stiff. “I'm a very memorable man.” His voice was the same as usual, with just a hint of mockery in it.
“You are a soldier of Olentor, and I expect you to act like you are representing the King's honor.”
His voice changed with this. “The King gave up his honor, and the honor of the whole country, the day he married that woman and took the crown. You'd know that, if you hadn't ran away before it happened.” Ferene hadn't heard him speak with such anger before. The older soldiers were looking back and forth between the newcomer and their leader, nervous.
“I am willing to not regard you all as deserters, given the changing political situation stressing your loyalties. However, theft, impersonation, and racketeering, in a foreign land, while wearing the king's colors, is something I can't ignore.” Her voice was low, hard, full of anger. The Sergeant bent over, seeming to shrink away from her.
“I'm doing what I can to care for my men. That's what's important.”
“You are terrorizing the people living on this land.”
“We're soldiers.”
“You were soldiers. You left.”
They both went silent. Ferene watched the others. Five against one, but none of them were reaching for weapons. They sat, watching her. She watched them.
Eventually, the woman noticed Ferene. “Kidnapping, too?”
“She killed three of my men. One of them while she was unarmed. Something isn't right with that one.”
“I can only assume that you were the ones who started the fight. I hope that...” She trailed off, staring at Ferene. They held each other's gaze, and Ferene saw recognition in her green eyes. “You captured a Hatharen.”
“We did, but there's something wrong with her. She's feral. She attacked us, in town. Surely you heard about that.”
“I heard about a fight, I didn't realize...” She stopped speaking, slowly standing up, spear in hand. “Enough of this. You are all criminals. Free the girl, return what you stole, and come with me.”
“Or?” He stood as well, and the other men followed suit, picking up their weapons. They were already in a half circle, surrounding her.
“Do you really want to fight me, Niffrem? You said you wanted to take care of your men. I will kill all of you.”
“We aren't going back.” His voice was tight, he fell into a fighting stance. His men followed suit, five spears held at the ready, the furthest two stepping outwards, moving to surround her. Ferene watched, remembering herself in the same position.
The woman stood at ease, holding her spear tip-down, waiting, waiting, before lunging sideways, stabbing at one of the flanking men. He stepped back, staying out of her range, but she was already turning, spinning, thrusting her spear with one hand towards the opposite man. He parried the attack, his weapon clashing against hers. The first man, opposite him, fell to the ground, making a wet gagging noise.
At some point during her second movement, she had thrown her knife and lodged it in his throat.
The other three exploded into motion. The sergeant, Niffrem, rushed forward, swinging wildly, yelling. One of the others moved over the fallen man, taking up the flank position, moving to attack her from the other side. The last one stepped beside the man currently being attacked, bringing his weapon up to force her away.
The Hatharen pushed the man away from her, and spun, twirling her weapon, knocking aside two attacks in a single motion, her feet sliding backwards, keeping herself from being surrounded. She sidestepped towards the man standing in front of his downed companion, blocking an attack from him with her armored shoulder, shoving him aside as she ducked to retrieve her knife. The four men quickly rearranged themselves into a curved line again, though now Ferene was behind them all.
Both sides stood apart, for just a moment, before the woman charged forward. She swung her spear in a wide arc, forcing the middle two men back. Niffrem tried to counterattack, but she easily parried his attack, then in the same motion slammed the butt of her spear into the other man's stomach as he reacted too slowly. He fell to his knees, and she stepped over him, twirling her weapon as the three men formed a line again, this time facing Ferene.
There was another moment of hesitation, when one of the men brought the wounded one back to his feet. The newcomer took this moment to step backwards, right beside Ferene's post, and slam her knife across the rope tying her hands upwards, then drop her knife. Ferene immediately grabbed it, flipping it over in her double-handed grip, sawing through the bindings on her wrists.
“I'm not sure you want that one helping you out, Linara. She doesn't seem to be entirely there, in the head. Might turn on you.”
“I'm outnumbered, I'll take the risk.”
Ferene freed her hands, then slashed the ropes around her waist and ankles. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around. The wagon was on the other side of the campsite, four men and a lot of ground between her and it.
Ferene, as it happened, specialized in running.
She turned and ran away from them.
Behind her, there was a short laugh, but she didn't pay attention to that. Her legs hurt. Her entire body hurt, but she ran. Away, then turning, to swing around. Fire in the distance. She came to the wagon, and found her sword and armor in the pile of other weapons and gear. She grabbed the sword, and turned to look back at the fight.
The four men were advancing on Linara again, more cautiously this time. She parried attack after attack, no longer making offensive moves of her own, her spear spinning in her hands as she redirected attacks from multiple directions. There was something to how she fought that caused Ferene to pause. Every movement was so precise, her feet planted on the ground, not a single step wasted when she adjusted her footing, even with four people attacking her. There was beauty in it, a contrast to how Ferene felt every time she fought, brutally attacking whatever was in front of her.
There were, however, times when brutality was all you needed.
Leaping off the top of the wagon, Ferene hit the ground running, her sword held out in front of her. Niffrem must have heard her footsteps, her scream as she advanced, as he turned towards her, his eyes going wide in surprise. Her sword pierced through his chest before he brought his weapon up, the impact sending a shock wave up Ferene's arms as she tore a hole in his armor.
The rest of the fight turned into a blur.
One of the remaining three turned to run. Ferene yanked her sword out of the sergeant's body and ran after him, her first swing knocking him to the ground, her sword not getting through his chain mail, but the metal shirt did little to protect his neck after he was down. When she finished with him and turned to look back at Linara, the other two men were on the ground at her feet.
The woman stood in the light of the fire, spear in one hand, breathing steadily, calmly. She nodded to Ferene, then walked over and held out her hand, palm up.
After several seconds of them staring at each other, she blinked once. “My knife.”
Ferene had shoved it through her belt. Belatedly, she drew it, flipping it over and handing it to the woman. She had her own, in the wagon. As she took her first step back there, she found her entire body heavy. She dragged her sword along the ground as she retrieved her things. The various pieces of her armor were in the pile of gear, and she grabbed them, slowly putting them on. Lebb's jacket was still too short for her, but it would have to do.
“Do you know who all of this belongs to? We need to return it.”
“Weapons and armor from the soldiers I killed.” She said, shoving her knife back into her boot and fixing her short sword to her belt. “Don't know the rest.”
“We can re-trace their route, stopping by the farmsteads, giving things back.”
“Dump it all at the first place, let them sort it out.” Ferene opened one of the packs that she knew to contain food, pulling out a lumpy travel biscuit. She bit into it, crumbs falling from her mouth.
The other woman walked away from her, towards Niffrem's horse. The animal had been panicking during the fight, trying to pull free from the post it was tied to. It calmed down at her touch, sniffing at her. Ferene shoved more of the hard biscuits into the pockets of her borrowed jacket before she put it on over her armor. Briefly, Ferene remembered the woman mentioning the king’s colors. Lebb's jacket, like those of the other men, was a deep maroon color, with some fancy stitching around the collar and shoulders.
“They ruined my shirt.”
“What was that?”
“They ruined my shirt, so I'm taking the jacket. Don't kill me for it.”
“What's your name?”
“Ferene.”
Linara walked over to the campfire and sat down, pointing at a position across from her. “Sit, and tell me what happened.” Ferene hesitated. She wanted to run, but she didn't think she could. “My name is Linara of Aesuthal. Sit, Ferene, and tell me what happened.”
She sat, and she spoke. A simple story of hearing about what the men were doing, attacking them, killing two, being taken prisoner, killing a third, and then being a prisoner again. Green eyes watched her, glowing in the light of the fire.