"Drynwyn?"

What?

"Just checking, we're both on the same page if things need to go all Operation Stabby-stabby-hack-hack here?"

We're not calling it that.

"Let's give it a few minutes to see how things play out. But you know what to do if things go south. This guy has one strike already."

"To whom are you talking?" The voice of the big man was a deep baritone. Of course it was. What with his build and his clothing, he was the most blacksmithy blacksmith ever to smith the black.

"I think the more pressing question is who are you, and what's with all the attacking lone women in the woods and tying them up?"

I had prepared myself for any number of responses. This guy had laid me out with one punch, after all: even though I was totally unprepared, that felt like it was probably a significant thing to achieve against a cultivator. Particularly one that ripped the head off a dragon with her bare hands. So, I was cycling my Qi everywhere I thought it could be useful, and if he so much as looked at me funny, I was opening a [Can of Whoopass]. If that didn't decide things, I was sure Drynwyn was dying for an opportunity to re-establish its destructive credentials.

Thus, as far as these things go, I felt I had most of the bases covered. It all depended on how the big guy was going to play it.

I was, therefore, somewhat thrown when he sank to the floor, put his head in his hands and began sobbing.

"I know. I know. I don't know what came over me. I thought you were one of them, but when I realised you weren't, I didn't know what to do. Sǣþrȳð said to leave you here until you woke up."

That sounded like a whole new host of letters I wasn't going to seek to learn. "Dude, you'd tied me up."

"You're a wizard!" His voice was now less a baritone and more a castrato wail high enough to attract passing bats. "Everyone said you'd kill us as soon as you woke up. I thought if I tied you up, it would give me time to negotiate. Please, it was me that hurt you. None of the others. I am the one you should punish."

This wasn't going quite the way I thought it would. I let the Qi slip away from my hands and told Drywyn to keep a close eye but hold back on the flaming death for now.

"Let's all take a beat here. I'm not going to kill you." I paused; no need to give up the initiative. I quite liked being the sort of person big, bear-like men wept in front of. "Yet. But I need to understand more of what's going on here. What's your name?"

"Beocca."

"And you're a blacksmith, right?"

For some reason, that set the big man off sobbing again. "It's true what they say. Wizards know everything! You can read my mind!"

The man's clearly a simpleton. Maybe some sort of traumatic head injury. Be a kindness to kill him, really. I felt the sword start to leave its scabbard.

"Stop it!" I bent down to kneel next to the wailing giant. "I am a wizard, but trust me, I don't know everything. And I'm not reading your mind. You just look like a blacksmith. And you're wearing a massive leather apron. And, yes, you have a series of small hammers in a belt around your waist."

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He wiped his tears away with his massive, calloused hands. "Honest truth?"

"Honest truth, Beocca. Why don't we look to start again? Let's begin with who the 'they' are you thought I was, and then we can try to fill in some blanks from there."

Still think it'd be easier to kill him.

*

We'd relocated to the smithy, and Beocca had poured himself a glass of something lethal smelling to calm his nerves. He sent a small boy to 'bring everyone,' which was initially alarming until it turned out 'everyone' was five or six women of various sizes and ages.

One of them, Sǣþrȳð apparently, wrapped her hand around his the second she arrived, giving me some epic stinkeye. Honestly, she couldn't have marked her territory any clearer than if she'd pissed on him.

She was welcome to it, though. With the size of Beocca, we'd have needed to fashion up some elaborate pulley system to make it work. At least without endangering some bits of me I was pretty fond of. Mind you, as a blacksmith, he would probably be able to produce all sorts of exciting mechanisms that might make a dabble viable ...

I quickly shut down that line of thought. Rhyddrech Hael seemed to be rubbing off on me. Which I imagined he'd have enjoyed immensely.

Of course, even before the tale of woe was delivered, I'd already worked out what was happening. The complete lack of men and the generally tense atmosphere, plus Beocca's weighty mention of 'them,' made it all pretty clear what was going on.

"The fyrd passed through a week back. Most of the young men joined it; we don't see many raids this far from the border, so, as you can imagine, it was pretty popular."

"Beocca tried to talk them out of it, but boys will be boys." Sǣþrȳð chipped in.

"Not just the boys. Any man who could carry a spear tagged along," a sour-faced woman added. "My Heard went with them happily enough."

There was a moment of silence as everyone thought about those who had been lost. Even whilst they still held out hope of seeing them again.

"We started seeing fires at the end of that first day. Columns of smoke in the sky from the direction of the other villages hearabouts. At first, we didn't pay them no mind. You get wildfires this time of year. But then, on the fourth day, with no sign of the men returning, we began to get nervous. A few of us rode out over yonder to see what was occurring."

I could see where this was going. "And?"

"We're surrounded by death, and worse, on all sides. Men, women, children. Even the animals. It's a slaughter. As far as I rode - and I went as far as I dared - I didn't see another living soul. Not until I heard you singing, in any event." Beocca didn't need to say much more. His eyes told the story of the horrors of his journey. I could almost forgive him clocking me first and asking questions later.

Almost.

"So, if you know what is coming, why are you still here?"

Sǣþrȳð eyes flashed, and she raised her chin at that. "And where should we go, wizard? The fyrd has clearly been defeated, and our friends and neighbours lie dead for as far as we can ride. Who will protect us? Who will give us shelter? At least here we have roofs over our heads and walls we can defend." She obviously read the scepticism on my face. "What's to say we won't walk straight into whatever force is out there? We're as safe here as we would be on the road."

That sounded like giant, sweaty bollocks, and judging by Beocca's complete lack of poker face, there was another story here. These people were staying here for a reason that had nothing to do with worries about the road. But I couldn't blame them if they didn't want to confide in the wizard they thought was about to massacre them.

But what was I supposed to do now?

I'd been looking for people, and here people were. But I'd been hoping for, you know, a village with an inn, a spa, maybe a travelling circus. You know, just your basics. But the whole vibe here was a bit too French Resistance for my taste. And I fucking hated Allo, Allo.

I had no desire to watch anybody else whose name I knew die, but neither did I have any illusions that I would fare any better on my own against an entire army than I did last time.

I still had no idea what made them evacuate in their moment of triumph - General Tarkin would not have approved - but it seemed unlikely it would happen twice.

I looked around at all the grim faces. They were hiding something, but it was their lives, and they could do whatever they wanted. I just needed to decide if I was willing to risk having more arrows fired at my face for people I barely knew - one of whom had punched me in the face, and another kept looking at me like she'd like to.

On the balance of things, and with surprisingly little regret, I thought not.

Ignoring Drynwyn's cries of protestations, I stood and wished them all the luck in the world.

But then, who would have guessed, the decision was taken out of my hands. A small boy appeared at the door to the smithy, sweaty and with a face white with fear.

"Riders. Lots of them. Coming from the East. They're blocking the road."

Awesome.