Magistrate of the Dark Land

Part Four

by G. Lawrence

The captive of warrior women

This is a fantasy novel providing high adventure and romance, but there are no dragons or wizards. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: Badly wounded at the Battle of Wagon Bridge, Owen floated downriver until being washed up on a beach. Near death and despairing, he suddenly found himself in the power of his worst enemy.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

CROSSROADS AT VARNA

My eyes opened to a small limestone cave, the entrance sheltered by thick bushes. A patch of morning sun crept through the leaves. My wet clothes were gone. A cooking fire burned, the smell of roasting duck filling the musty air. My senses were not clear. A sticky sweat covered my skin, my forehead burning with fever. Then I realized my wrists were bound with leather before me. I pulled to discover I wore a thick collar, my hands tied close to my throat.

Flat on my back, I twisted to see the furs beneath me were laid on a shallow rock ledge some two feet above the dirt floor. An itchy brown moss was pasted on various parts of my body. I fought to scratch the tortuous irritation but couldn't reach it because of the restraints. Three women were sitting cross-legged before the fire, each wearing hunting outfits of red leather. Broadswords lay next to them, not the massive blades of male mercenaries but just as deadly. Longbows and quivers filled with arrows hung on branches near the entrance.

The blur of my last consciousness returned to me. The muddy road. The freezing grass. The bloody wound torn through my gut that left me food for the vultures. Then Jalana appeared, emerging from a fog, staring at me without mercy. She had denied me the quick death I begged. Now I was her prisoner. I, who had held her captive. Humiliated her. And worse. What revenge would the proud Red Leather warrior have on me? Stories of Farina vengeance whirled through my mind. Hot irons pressed against helpless flesh. Eyes gouged out. Dismemberment. In a panic, I looked down to see if I was intact, relieved to find all as it should be. But for how much longer?

I determined to escape. Better to fate the ravenous creatures of the forest than the terrible vengeance of a woman.

The Farina were eating breakfast, speaking in low tones. Bundled furs lay stacked against one wall of the cave, a shallow stream of water ran down the other. The shelter was not so dark as I wished, my only hope being to dash past my captors into the open and hope a river or ravine lay nearby to aid my flight. Did I have the courage for such an attempt? It mattered not, I had no choice.

Slowly, without them seeing, I rolled on my right side, sliding my feet to the edge of the platform. The moment I sat up, I would jump to the floor and run. Four or five quick strides would get me out of the cave, and after that, only the gods could help me. I held my breath for a moment, my insides trembling. The cave had not seemed cold before, but now I felt a shiver.

One of the women laughed. Why not? Several Farina had been captured by slavers, subjected to brutal uses, and now they had a male in their power. My fearful imagination easily grasped the perverse joy in their hearts. I could wait no longer. It would be all or nothing! Freedom or death! I swung my legs off the ledge and made ready to sit up.

Fruitless were my efforts. Instead of rising from the platform as I expected, my weak body merely tumbled off the ledge to land face first on the ground. Quickly was I surrounded by women.

"What happened? What are you doing?" one of them asked.

"Escaping," I moaned.

"In what manner may you escape by crawling on the floor?" another asked.

"Turn your backs, warriors of the Red Leather, and I will disappear like a summer wind," I assured her.

"You cannot even stand up," the third woman said.

"My aspiration is not without obstacles," I was forced to agree.

They rolled me over and fetched an oil lamp that they might study my wounds, causing me to lay naked before them. I had no spirit for shame.

"What is this?" I heard Jalana say. She ducked under a branch as she entered the cave, a longbow slung over her shoulder. Her suit of dark red leather was well cut, just as Karneseum had promised that night on Walnut Creek. High brown boots covered her feet and a floppy green hat gave cover in the forest. Her long black hair hung loose around her shoulders and fierceness rose from her eyes. She was a warrior once again, strong and proud.

"The male sought to escape," one of the women said, blonde and slim with studious dark brown eyes.

"There will be punishment for that," Jalana said, setting her bow aside and kneeling next to me. Her black eyes ran the length of my body. There was no doubt she was displeased, her face scrunched in a frown. Then she tipped her head and the warrior women lifted me back on the ledge, straightening my legs and tightening the leather around my wrists.

"Feed him," the war captain of the Red Leather ordered.

Jalana went to the cooking fire, stuck half a roasted bird on her dagger, and left the cave again followed by two of her warriors. Only the blonde remained, toiling over a steaming pot before bringing me a bowl. I refused to eat. My insides roiled so badly there was no chance of keeping the food down, nor did I wish strength merely to withstand their torments. Better to die weak and with less pain.

"You must eat. Your body needs sustenance to fight the fever," the young woman said.

She placed a wooden spoon against my lips. It was a yellow porridge of bird entrails and grump root. My stomach heaved but there was nothing in my belly to project. The woman found several folded furs to set me upright and tried again. Some small portion of the liquid seeped down, more dribbling on my chin. She wiped the mess with a soft cloth and dished another spoonful. I watched her movements wondering what she was thinking.

"You don't remember me, do you? My name is Yana. You set me free on the burning bridge. You gave me clothes and a weapon."

The memory was hazy. A graceful blonde, eighteen or nineteen years old. She had been dragged from the town by a fat silk-soaked merchant. Was that where my new cloak went? I found captivity poor payment for the service I had given, but what can one expect of savage forest women?

"Eat something or Jalana will force you," Yana warned.

I ate what porridge would stay down and felt sleepy. My hands struggled against the confining leather as my fingers probed the collar around my neck. I wondered if it was the same collar that had held Jalana prisoner, pondering the justice of it.

I woke again in early evening to find another young woman sitting next to me. Her hair was dark like Jalana's but kept in braids. Her eyes were deep blue. Gentle and intelligent. Her facial features were similar to Jalana's, with wide cheekbones and a small mouth, causing me to wonder if there was a blood relation. She had a bowl of the putrid moss before her and was steadily applying the sticky mixture to my wounds. Her shoulder bore the flame tattoo of a healer. Her motions offered no respect, reaching areas I couldn't see.

"You fare poorly. If you remain still the pain will be lessened," she said, her eyes searching for a reaction. I tried to take a deep breath, but the slightest movement only came with great effort. By the gods how I wished to scratch the hateful moss burning holes in my skin.

"He's awake," my tormentor said to her companions.

"The porridge is ready, Cathe. I put some pork in it," an auburn-haired woman said, coming over with a bowl. Something about her was familiar.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten so soon? I am Obina. You freed us from that waddling silk-pig and kicked him into the river," she said with a laughing dance in her squinty brown eyes. She sat on the log next to Cathe and stirred the porridge with a wooden spoon.

Memories of the battle were disjointed. Vaguely did I remember wanting to break someone's head open, but I recalled shoving him off a wall instead.

"We watched you hold the bridge against the raiders. One against a hundred. I thought only Farina had such courage," Obina said.

"It was not courage," I disagreed. Obina offered a spoonful of porridge. It smelled good but my insides were churning.

"You will eat," Obina ordered, putting the spoon in my mouth. I felt the warm liquid work down my throat and almost threw up. She made me take several more spoonfuls before giving me a chance to breathe. Cathe continued to swab the moss on my skin. Yana came over and suddenly all three were hovering about as I lay exposed before them. Perhaps my energy was returning, for my face now blushed with embarrassment. Jalana's arrival made it even worse.

"What ails him?" Cathe asked, pausing in her efforts to torture me. It took Jalana a moment to discern my discomfort.

"The male is shy. Put a blanket over him," Jalana said.

"Shy? He has no cause for shyness. Well would I like him in my furs if he wasn't so piteously hurt," Obina said.

Jalana suddenly walked away, something in Obina's remark upsetting her. Yana draped a gray blanket over my waist, a finely crafted cloth likely made in a textile mill. A sigh of relief escaped me. The women laughed, thinking my modesty foolish.

I slept soundly through the night. Whatever plans Jalana had for me were beyond my ability to combat, and I was so frail that it was difficult to care. Only when the new light came did my fear return. My wrists remained bound, the collar tight. It gave me a new appreciation of the fright Jalana must have felt in the camp of the Black Axe, though I think her courage sustained her better. I considered in what manner I might beg for mercy, but Farina were known to be contemptuous of cowards. Begging could well lead to things I'd rather not dwell on.

Yana came to feed me and wipe sweat from my brow. Nothing in her demeanor appeared angry, which was confusing. She smiled when I did my best to swallow the porridge.

"The infections dwindle. If the fever lessens, your life may be spared," Yana said.

"Will it?" I asked. She looked at me strangely. I pulled at the restraints.

"You waste strength to fight the leather. Farina know well how to bind a male," Yana said.

"So I've learned," I answered, resting back on the fur in resignation.

I discovered there were five women in all, one usually outside standing guard, several others often hunting. A nearby corral held a small herd of horses, the sort of animals common to tradesmen, but the horses were seldom used. I would not say the Farina were afraid of detection. Rather, they seemed cautious, seeking advantage rather than confrontation. Jalana was the oldest of the group, just past her twenty-fifth year. Cathe was two years younger. The others were still teenagers, energetic and filled with the confidence of youth.

The cave had become their headquarters, though why they lingered so long in the area was a mystery. Certainly they must have plans to free their three remaining sisters, though finding them was going to be a problem. It occurred to me that I was also one of their problems. Unless they wished to drag me behind their horses on the end of a rope, I wouldn't be moving for some time.

As the day wore on there was little talking. Yana said no more to me after the feeding, nor did any of the others. It seemed they had reached the same conclusion I had. Jalana was rarely in the cave, and when she was, never came close to my furs. A creeping suspicion rose that she was gathering the nerve to fulfill her vow. There was no doubt in my mind that my life belonged to her, and that she had every right to take it. I just wished she'd get it over with.

The more I dwelled on Jalana's revenge, the more anxious I became. Small noises caused me to tremble. The sweating, which had subsided, gradually increased again until I felt wrapped in hot blankets. I thirsted greatly but was afraid to ask for water. The cave grew smaller until the confinement was nearly unbearable. Then, with no warning, I suddenly found Cathe sitting next to me, a knife gripped in her small fist! I backed against the wall, biting off the scream that nearly burst from my throat.

"What disturbs you?" she asked.

It wasn't a knife in her hand. It was a wooden spoon. She had come to smear more of the oozing brown moss on my injuries. The realization came too late. Heavy breathing exploded my lungs. My hands clenched so tightly fingernails drew blood from my palms. Tears appeared that couldn't be stopped. Cathe disappeared and a moment later Jalana was sitting on the ledge leaning over me.

"What's wrong, male? Afraid your time of punishment has come?" she said.

I couldn't see the look in her eyes, my vision clouded. Nor could I truly hear the sound of her voice, only the words. My ears were pounding. I felt dizzy. She motioned to her belt and a dagger appeared. It wasn't a wooden spoon this time. The scream which stuck in my throat now choked me. The cave whirled around me in circles. I think I lost my water, but couldn't be sure. As the knife came toward my throat, my heart exploded in terror and everything went black.

The sky was dark. Through the bushes shielding the cave, I saw a half-moon lingering among the clouds. All five women were gathered around a slow burning fire as they drank plundered wine, apparently unaware I had woken. I had thought Farina a boisterous clan, but these women were subdued. Almost sullen.

"I see no malice in the man. If you must slay him, be done with it," Dalena said, tall with golden brown hair that hung nearly to her waist. Her blue eyes were very much like Cathe's, though perhaps a shade lighter. Her shoulder tattoo of an owl indicated a scout.

"We all agree. To torture him lacks honor," Yana bitterly protested.

"Are your wrongs so great that our obligation to him means nothing?" Obina complained.

"Why have we striven to heal him? That you might seek some deeper revenge?" Cathe asked in anger.

"I do not mean to slay him," Jalana said, sitting apart from the others.

Jalana's head hung low, the wine cup in her lap. Her unbound hair obscured her face, much as I think she intended.

"Clearly he thinks you do. Is there reason for this belief?" Yana asked.

"When a prisoner of the axes, I swore an oath to cut his throat," Jalana admitted.

"But now you mean to frighten him to death instead?" Obina said, contempt echoing off the cave walls.

"I did not mean to frighten him so badly. By the Dread Goddess, I only meant to tease him as he teased me," Jalana explained.

"Tease him? Sister, can you truly be so stupid?" Cathe asked. "You were healthy in the camp of the mercenaries. When the one called Owen came, he gave you protection from enemies. This man is racked with fever. His wounds walk a line with death. He knows no sisters who stand his guard. In what manner is teasing him to your liking? Do you find pleasure in such doings?"

"No," Jalana said, raising her cup until it was empty.

"The male is awake," Dalena said, noticing my eyes open.

I rolled back but too late. As Jalana came forward, I tried to pull the blanket over my face but the restraints frustrated my effort. I squeezed against the wall, the rock cold against my skin. Jalana stopped a few feet short of the ledge, showed her hands were free of weapons, and slowly sat next to me.

"Stay calm, Owen. You're in no danger," she assured.

"You promised to cut my throat if we ever met again," I said.

"If that's what worries you," she replied.

Suddenly there was a knife in her hand. She leaned forward, the blade held out. The breath left my body as she pinned me down with one hand, which took little effort on her part, but I did not sense my earlier fear. There was no hatred in Jalana's voice, only impatience. She let the knife slide gently against my throat and raised a finger spotted with a drop of blood. I had hurt myself worse while shaving.

"I have now cut your throat as I once swore. Are you satisfied?" Jalana asked.

I still made no answer. Jalana smiled, sheathed the dagger, and stroked the hair back from my forehead.

"I should have spoken sooner without teasing you, but I was too ashamed," Jalana said. Her cheeks were flushed, the eyes half closed.

"I don't understand," I said.

"The last night we were together in the tent, you would not look at me. I had dishonored myself, begging for death even as you were risking all to set me free. I lost my courage when you most needed my strength."

"I never thought you dishonored," I objected, unwisely rising from the furs.

Jalana pushed me down before the wound reopened, frowning at my carelessness. Even so slight an effort cost me precious energy but I was determined to make myself understood.

"The last night in the tent, I could not look at you. I paraded you around the camp. Betrayed your trust. Hurt you in a way that can never be forgiven. It was my shame that kept my eyes from you."

Jalana remained quiet for some time. I needed a chance to breathe.

"When I reached the river, I heard Golan's call for your blood," Jalana whispered. "A clash of steel rose from the camp. I knew then why you had acted so strangely during the day. Why you had asked about holding a sword. I pictured you cut in half, lying dead because of me. I was angry with you, Owen. A warrior does not let another die in her place."

"I did not die," I pointed out.

Jalana smiled sadly. "I'll wager you did not defeat Golan, either."

"No, Kaska and Charnon came to my rescue. They were your friends, too. Perhaps more than you know."

"You need rest now. Don't be afraid. You have five swords to keep you safe."

I looked toward the fire to see Obina, Dalena, Yana, and Cathe watching our conversation with approval. The sullen mood had lifted.

"Jalana, I must ask. If I am not a prisoner, why have you kept me bound?"

The woman laughed, a smile returning the sparkle to her eyes.

"The moss that fights infection, Owen. The itch is so bad, even Farina are bound to prevent scratching."

* * * * * *

Six days later I was sitting at the campfire, set carefully on furs and wrapped in a wool blanket. Watered wine was in my cup and fresh venison on my plate. The leather had been removed when the infections subsided. Only the wound in my side truly bothered me now.

"Cathe and Dalena were on the Blue Mountain Road as you believed," Jalana said, keeping my cup full.

"We found a drunken group of merchants who thought us easy use. Many were fat and all were lazy. Their swords were soon ours," Cathe said, recalling how they gained arms.

"As was their use," Dalena happily boasted, the lusty young wench laughing as she tied her long hair back into a ponytail.

"So clumsy were the males that it took little effort to seize their treasure," Jalana said, studying me to see if I approved. Magistrates are known to frown on highway robbery.

"They had many horses, weapons and food," Cathe said. She waved her hand, showing the shelter filled with merchandise from their raid. It explained where the stacks of furs had come from, and why the women were dressed in hunting leather instead of rags. In truth, I did not approve, but as Thory had said, law had disappeared. The women had secured themselves in the only manner available to them. I would not criticize their methods. And the wine was good.

"You have lingered long in these woods," I said, seeking insight.

"You couldn't be moved, Owen. What choice was there?" Jalana said, her sisters agreeing.

"I'm but a male. Surely you could have left me behind. Or deposited me on the doorstep of some humble farmer."

"You could have left me with the Black Axe, but instead you sustained beatings to give me freedom. Is your honor so much greater than mine? Is my debt so much less because I am female?" Jalana asked, insulted by my suggestions.

"I'm the last one here to claim honor," I said, rubbing the scars marking my disgrace.

Jalana noticed what I was doing. A warrior, hunter and leader, she possessed a sharp eye and the insight to put small observations together.

"What a foolish man you are," Jalana said, suddenly twisting my wrist so the others could see the slash marks.

"What do you mean, Jalana?" Cathe asked.

"After Owen took me against my will, he cut these bird tracks into his flesh. I knew not the meaning. The first time, I could feel his excitement, though he had not the spirit to sustain himself. After that he merely attempted to perform without spirit or joy. So lifeless were his efforts I was forced to wail in protest so the Black Axe would think me well used."

"You pretended anger?" I asked, shocked by her admission. "You fought and cursed. Called down the Dread Goddess for revenge."

The women were laughing, drinking more from their cups and looking at me with an uncomfortable interest.

"You disappoint me, Owen. Am I a fool? You sought to protect me from the camp. I didn't realize this at the beginning. Only when Golan made clear the fate I could expect did I understand the true nature of the danger. And here you have branded yourself in a sad effort of reproach."

"This is not a sad effort of reproach. It's a reminder that I need to stand judgment for my crime," I said, pulling the blanket down to cover my disgrace.

The women rocked back in confusion. Especially Jalana.

"Crime?" Jalana said, bewilderment in the tone.

"War captain of the Red Leather, I agreed to hold you as my prisoner. The circumstances are but a mitigating factor. I took you against your will. It makes me sick to think of it, but I also experienced a depraved thrill to have you in my power. I have been a magistrate, well aware of the law. When the day comes, I will stand before a lawful authority to accept punishment."

"What punishment is this, Owen?" Yana asked with trepidation. All of the women looked concerned. And curious.

"It depends on the judge. Lashes at the post, certainly. Enslavement in the mines is not unknown. Some magistrates demand a judgment that is more severe. A permanent impairment of certain abilities," I answered, cringing at the thought.

"Your code lacks justice," Cathe said with a dark frown. "You did but save Jalana's life, and we ourselves have taken males against their will. The practice is not uncommon. Are we to be judged in such a way?"

"I cannot answer for you, sister. I only know the evil that invaded my heart. I must be answerable for that or forfeit my soul."

I drank more of the watered wine, wishing it was stronger, but I was too new from the fever. My hands trembled.

The Farina remained quiet for some time. There was little to say. Finally, the task of finding their lost sisters was recalled.

"Fuschia and Mapps left the safety of our forest on a quest. Rotanna followed without sisters to guard her journey. She is First Sword of the Red Leather and should have known better," Jalana explained.

"Rotanna has always been headstrong, with a temper as fierce as her skills," Cathe added.

"Is your forest far from the Cat Mountains?" I asked, unfamiliar with the lands of the Red Leather.

"We abide at the headwaters of the Treabo," Obina said.

"Just a few days ride from the Burnt Leather," I recalled.

"What do you know of the Burnt Leather?" Cathe asked in surprise.

"I was called upon to arbitrate a dispute between the Burnt Leather and Minar of the Vatar. Queen Amara made me her special guest," I answered.

The warriors were quiet, waiting to hear more. It wasn't an experience I wished to brag about. Dalena and Obina laughed. When I shyly smiled at the memory, the other women laughed, too. It helped them to know I was no stranger to their ways.

"I have heard Amara keeps a summer camp among the Grass Islands," Dalena said.

"Just tents and a few straw huts. Much as I would expect," I casually confirmed. The women looked at each other with sly grins.

"Is that how you think we live, Owen? In tents and huts?" Cathe asked, trying not to sound insulted.

"What else? You are creatures of the forest," I answered.

"It is true we love our forest, but we do not live in trees," Jalana lectured. "The Crookback had a great palace and many fine homes near the high lakes. His minions lived in comfortable barracks. When the mothers of our clans overthrew the Crookback, all that was his became ours."

"We of the Red Leather spend the winter months in a fine manor house surrounded by stone walls and lush orchards," Cathe said. "Our children attend schools. Some live at the palace where they study art from the Crookback's books."

"At the foot of Mallard Ridge, we have a town called Tonaba where merchants are allowed to trade. Even males, but only with special permission," Obina said, though I sensed she disagreed with the policy.

"I am sorry to have thought you so primitive. It will not happen again," I promised. "Are there other bands out looking for your lost sisters?"

"Not that we know of," Dalena said, looking toward Jalana. Perhaps there had been a disagreement regarding the search.

"We set out the moment we knew there was trouble," Jalana said. "Dalena is our best tracker. Yana the best archer. Obina a strong sword."

"And Cathe is your healer," I said, looking to her with appreciation.

Cathe lowered her eyes, the braids almost covering her face. She was also the shyest of the group, and certainly the most thoughtful. Obina was the most impetuous, always ready to charge in. Yana stood the tallest and tended to be quiet, though you could sense the sharpness of her skill. Dalena was slightly built, though not so petite as Cathe, with knowledge of the forest that even a skilled hunter such as I might envy. Each bore a tattoo on the left shoulder signifying the oak leaf of the Red Leather and a tattoo on the right shoulder giving their skill. Jalana, of course, was the leader, a dagger tattoo signifying command.

"Our missing sisters were several days ahead of our trail when we ourselves fell into the nets of slavers. Much time has been lost," Dalena said.

"They could be anywhere now. The river land is vast," Obina lamented.

"We cannot go home without them. We are honor-bound to learn their fate, and share it if we must," Yana said.

"Kannae," I abruptly realized.

"What is Kannae?" Yana asked.

"A walled city east of the Fork. With marauders so aggressive, even slavers are seeking Lord Kirkon's protection. Whatever captures were in Arbor will be taken upriver to Kannae. I think I'll find your sisters there."

"You? You will find our sisters?" Dalena said.

"Shouldn't it be we who find our sisters?" Cathe asked.

"Ten thousand people live in Kannae. Such large cities are dangerous for those unaccustomed to their ways. No place for warrior women quick of temper and quicker with their swords. I can use the silver circles stolen... taken from the merchants to buy your sisters out of captivity," I said, already planning a means to that end. And if fortunate, maybe I would find the kidnapped daughters as well.

"It could be dangerous for one in your condition, Owen," Jalana warned.

"No, I don't think there's much danger," I disagreed.

Within a quarter moon our expedition was ready to move. There were eight horses, one for each of us and two to carry supplies. I needed to ride slow. It was too soon to sit a horse but I saw no choice. Once the kidnapped women were taken across the North Reach into Lord Kirkon's lands, only an army would get them back. It would take a day traveling up King's Road to Varna, then most of another to reach Arbor. I hoped to visit the Lost Prince and recover my money belt if the inn hadn't been burned down. If Parasol was still in the stable, I would donate her to the widows and orphans of the raid. It would be a cruel jest but my mood was dark. If they couldn't tame the stubborn beast they could always eat her. If the docks were working again, as I suspected they would be, I could buy passage on a barge to Kannae.

It felt good to be out in the open again after so long cooped up in the cave. I could not thank the Farina enough for the sacrifices they'd made, nor would they let me. The horses were good animals, mostly brown with black hooves, though not the quality of Vatar horses. My saddle was crafted leather. The women choose to ride on shaggy bearskins, as was their way. Packs of furs and fine wine provided us with trade goods, though I intended to keep an account should the original owners need to be repaid.

Jalana rode at my side happier than I had yet seen her. Her sisters were also in high spirits, singing songs and telling tales. I did my best to participate, though I felt each jolt of the trail. I wondered how Arbor fared. Had the town been sacked? Did the women and children reach the safety of Watchman's Point? Did the militia of Rhysem Township or Juniper come to their assistance? Many things were on my mind, making me less pleasant company than I wished.

We looked for a place to make an early camp. Jalana was not blind to my difficulty, nor ignorant of our need to make progress. She balanced the two needs with the experience of a war leader. I thought it best to stop short of Varna, a village at the crossing of Whistler's Creek. Little more than an outpost between the north road and the eastern trail to the iron mines at Kilroy, the hamlet lacked any sort of defense. Five heavily armed Farina suddenly riding into their midst could well start a panic.

For much of the day we had the Great River on our left, tree-covered hills and occasional canyons on the right. A few miles south of Varna, the road turned inland and climbed a shallow hill. A pass at the crest led to Martin's Meadow. I thought the meadow a good place to camp, suggesting it to Jalana.

"There is smoke," Dalena said, scouting forward of our group.

Jalana and Cathe kicked their horses to reach the top of the pass. I could not ride so fast without serious pain. Obina, responsible for guarding our pack horses, stayed close at my side envious of her sisters. None crossed the ridge until we knew the danger.

Dismounted with Cathe holding the horses, Jalana and Dalena crept up into the rocks where they could see the meadow. The smoke was not a campfire, being too large and too black. I guessed it was a wagon or tent, knowing the meadow well. Set in a bowl of craggy rocks with trees for shade and a natural spring for water, it was a notorious gathering spot for young people in less perilous times. Martha and I once spent a marvelous three days there before our children arrived.

"There is trouble," Dalena said as Obina and I approached. "Males have attacked a wagon party. Some men are dead, their women seized. Children sit on the ground in the blood of their parents."

Cathe's fists were shaking in rage. One hand kept going to her sword. Dalena was just as angry, holding violence against children as the deepest of wrongs. Jalana came to join us, her brow bent in thought.

"We count eight of the criminals. There are four wagons, one on fire. Much blood is shed. The women weep," Jalana reported.

"This isn't your fight, warriors. You have lost sisters to find. I'll ask these men to release the women and go about their way," I said, taking the longbow off my saddle and making sure the quiver was within easy reach.

"You cannot mean to face these males alone," Cathe said.

"Something must be done, and I would not see you hurt merely to help strangers. Do not forget that I know the customs of Farina. You have no bond of clan here," I said, finding a tent pole to use as a staff. Sir John's sword hung from my belt, gratefully returned by Yana, but I had no intention of using it.

"And how will one coward persuade eight killers to abandon their looting? You lose your breath when swords are drawn. Your hands shake," Jalana said, standing before me with feet dug in.

"Maybe they'll feel sorry for me," I said, trying to smile.

"It's a poor joke," Jalana objected.

"Perhaps they'll recognize me from my days on the bench. If so, the villains may be reluctant to challenge a king's officer," I hopefully explained.

"How reluctant?" Obina asked.

I shrugged. In truth, it wasn't much of a plan.

"Magistrate, are these people not also strangers to you? Have you bonds of clan with them?" Cathe inquired.

"No, but my God instructs me to aid the helpless. I have an obligation that goes beyond clan," I explained.

My words were brave and truly spoken. I could not walk away without innocent blood on my conscious. How I hated the times my land had fallen into. How great was my fear that, at the last moment, I might drop my weapons and run. Jalana predicted well, my breath already labored. The shaking in my hands was suppressed with difficulty.

"What say you, sisters? Does Owen ride alone while warriors stand and watch?" Jalana asked.

"Not I," Obina said, drawing her sword.

"Nor I," Dalena agreed, hefting a spear.

"We are warriors all. Let us teach these vermin the wrath of Farina," Cathe declared.

"Then we go to battle," Yana said, her eyes blazing with anticipation as she strung her longbow.

"We go, but not to rush forward like fools," Jalana said. "We strike in the manner that brings victory. Are you ready to test your courage, Owen?"

"You have a strategy?" I asked.

"Males are greedy and thick-witted. In this lays their defeat," the war captain said.

* * * * * *

A few minutes later, as I slowly rode through the pass, the wails of newly made widows echoed from the rocks. Behind my horse, Jalana struggled on foot, hands tied before her as she was pulled by a rope. Before me was the scene of a massacre, six or seven men dead on the ground. Two of their draught horses had been killed to prevent the wagons from moving, the rest tethered to a line near the spring. Eight war mounts grazed in the summer grass.

The marauders wore green cloth shirts and brown leather vests, each with a heavy broadsword. Their gray riding pants hung loose around the knees, tucked into the tops of their high boots. All had wide-brimmed hats decorated with black feathers. Clearly they were rough men, four of them large, three of average size, and one rather short but stocky.

The clothes of the murdered men indicated they had been farmers. Furniture in the wagons and the presence of eight or nine children told me they had pulled up stakes in the north, probably immigrating to more quiet lands. Death had found them instead.

As we got closer, I saw seven women in a group, bound hand and foot, their eyes filled with terror. An eighth victim, a shapely blonde teenager, had been stripped and staked to the ground, the attackers preparing to take turns with her. As greatly as I feared to fight these despicable sons of bitches, my anger was even greater. It was an anger I clung to for strength. I looked back at Jalana, seeing her fury, knowing whatever courage I lacked could be found in her resolute spirit.

"Brothers, how fares the day?" I called out, riding within ten feet of them.

"Not so well as yours," the stocky marauder said, taking in Jalana's beauty at a glance. Jalana had reduced herself to short wool breeches and a tattered shirt. Her black hair hung loose about her shoulders. Low leather boots emphasized the length of her bare legs.

"Quality over quantity, brothers. Though your prizes seem not so bad," I said.

Jalana had been right. Perceiving me as one of their own, the marauders grew relaxed, more interested in my captive than asking questions. Such a subtle stratagem would never have occurred to me.

"That's fine female meat, brother. Would you care to trade?" the largest man asked, having dark eyes and skull tattoos on both cheeks. I supposed him to be the leader.

I looked around the encampment as if seeking items of value, dwelling on the staked-out teenager. She was no more than nineteen, with wonderfully creamy skin. I noticed her staring at me in fearful surprise and wondered if she recognized me from a previous meeting. If so, she was cautious enough not to blurt out my name. In the circle of bound women, I saw three that were moderately attractive and four others who were merely acceptable. Beyond the last wagon, two older women lay dead, their heads bashed in. They had been captives without value. Several children were huddled in the middle wagon, their fate undetermined. Only one man had been spared, his clothing fine enough to suggest ransom.

"This slave has great value," I said, slowly dismounting while drawing Jalana to my side. "She is very beautiful, compliant by nature. Her softness in the furs is delightful."

Jalana yanked at the rope and made to kick me in the shin as I jumped back. The marauders laughed, Jalana's feistiness intensifying their desire.

"Her value is obvious, yet we are but poor soldiers of the road. Certainly you can be generous?" the leader said, the threat clear.

I nodded my understanding, for those who trade in female flesh know the meaning of eight to one odds.

"Have no fear, brothers. I will not let you go unrewarded," I assured them.

Jalana moved close to me as if hiding behind my back. I could feel her removing the leather wrapped loosely around her wrists. I shifted my elbow so she would have no trouble drawing my sword.

The marauders had gradually come forward, only one hanging back to keep control of the female captives. With hardly a sound, the guard suddenly dropped to the ground with an arrow in his neck. He kicked and scratched at the dirt, making enough noise to draw attention. The moment the marauders turned to look, I nocked an arrow in my bow and let fly at the nearest target, hitting him squarely in the back from twelve feet away. He spun around, the steel arrowhead protruding from his chest, jaw gaping in surprise. Jalana grabbed Sir John's sword from my belt and was instantly upon them, slashing through the arm of the largest marauder and slicing a gash in the throat of another. The sound of thunder rose behind us as three horsewomen charged down from the pass, spears flying the moment they were in range. Yana stood up from her concealed position in the rocks launching another arrow. One of the marauders was struck through the shoulder as he tried to draw his sword. I let loose a second arrow but missed when my target ducked.

Jalana turned on the leader, steel meeting steel as the big man met her blow. He did not take the challenge seriously until she opened his arm with a bloody stroke.

"I am Bledden, Color Sergeant of the Company Azure. Drop the sword, girl, before I'm forced to hurt you," the leader said.

"I offer you glory, Azure Captain. A chance to die with sword in hand," Jalana said, swinging low.

Jalana's blade cut through a heavy boot before drawing blood. Bledden's sword came crashing down. Jalana raised her sword to turn the force aside, nearly buckling under the impact, and counterattacked with a slash across the midsection. Bledden howled with anger and struck again. Jalana danced sideways to strike back, countering with a short jab to the ribs.

The marauder captain was bleeding heavily. Each time he attacked, Jalana would direct his power away from her and return with quick strikes, negating his superior strength with speed and precision. Finally, Bledden used both hands to swing at Jalana's head, hoping to take it off her shoulders. Jalana squatted at the last second and came up thrusting, her blade driving deep under his ribs. Bledden dropped his broadsword and grabbed Jalana's blade, trying to pull it out. Jalana picked up the fallen broadsword and cut Bledden's throat halfway to the spine. The man died with Sir John's sword still imbedded in his body.

The marauders tried to rally even as their leader fell, one knocking me to the ground and preparing to cleave me in half. Yana put an arrow through the man's arm, the sword falling from his grasp. Though I probably could have picked it up, I crawled backward instead to get out of the way. The mounted Farina charged into the fray, swords flashing in the late afternoon sun, horses snorting and blood spraying in every direction.

Obina and Dalena teamed to run over two of the panicked marauders, dismounting to finish them off. Cathe jumped from her horse to take on another in single combat, striking with a speed no soldier of the road was likely to expect from such a small woman. She was not so skilled as Jalana, but few could be. Sword met sword as the man was pressed back against the wagon. Finally, in a fit of frustration, the marauder raised his sword and charged. Cathe ducked under his attack and killed him with a furious thrust through the body. I would never have guessed that the quiet healer could be such a plucky fighter.

Still on the ground, I looked to make sure the prisoners were in no danger. Thankfully, none of the marauders had a spare moment, so hard pressed were they by the suddenness of the assault. The man in fine clothes stared in awe, the captured women in admiration. Surely none had ever imagined such ferocious warriors whose war cries filled the meadow with hope.

It was a short battle. I had killed one man with my bow, Jalana had killed their leader. One died under Yana's arrows and three more were felled in the melee. Two survivors were wounded, one in the neck and the other in both arms. They were quickly bound, their fates sealed. Only the means of their end remained to be decided.

After regaining my feet, I walked around the final stages of the fighting to reach the young woman staked out near the wagons. I cut her legs free with my knife and painfully dropped to my knees to sever the ropes around her wrists. In an instant she was sitting up, embracing me with tears.

"Thank you, Magistrate. Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated.

I sheathed the knife to hold her as Yana went to free the other prisoners. As the fighting was ending, I took off my cloak and wrapped it around the young women's shoulders.

"What is your name, dear?" I asked.

"Sarah. Sarah Little," she sniffled between tears. "You know my father, John Little of The Commons."

I did indeed remember John Little, a good man and a friend from my days on the bench, The Commons being a township just west of where I was born. To have helped his daughter was a privilege.

"Magistrate, most of the villains are dead. Shall we cut the throats of these others?" Obina asked, victory in her eyes and blood on her sword. I helped Sarah up, guided her to the other women to receive female comfort, and walked to the prisoners. It was a hard move. My side was erupting in pain that was bound to make my temper short.

"You brag of the Company Azure when you are naught but murderers," I said to the two, forced on their knees with hands bound behind their backs.

"We are but a hand, ambusher. Release us now or feel the wrath of our brotherhood," the larger prisoner said, his arms decorated with elaborate sword tattoos. It was he who took Yana's first arrow in the neck. The arrow was gone but blood dripped steadily from the wound over his collarbone.

"I am Yatz, Horse Corporal to the Company Azure. Free us, minion of women, or become a woman yourself," the other said, the stocky man who had wielded a sword until Obina struck it from his grasp.

The surviving man of the wagon party approached, his fine traveling clothes now torn, his long white-gray hair tumbled in masses around his shoulders. I would guess him at fifty years in age, a touch taller than myself, with the attitude of a leader.

"Let us have the justice of it, stranger," the man said, a broadsword gripped tightly in his hand. Sorely was I inclined to yield the responsibility. The prisoners recoiled at the man's rage, but Cathe and Obina stood behind them preventing retreat.

"There will be an accounting," I said, unconsciously putting a hand over my left side where the wound gurgled in protest. "Brothers of the Company Azure, if you are but a hand, where is the body?"

"They ride--" Yatz began to say.

"Nearby," the stocky rogue interrupted.

I glanced at Obina. She put the tip of her sword against Yatz's back and drove it in half the length of a child's finger. The man howled in pain and tried to squirm away. Obina put her boot to him, pinning him face down to the ground.

"You may die easy or die hard," I warned.

"The girl called you Magistrate. My name is Cap, Forage Master of the Azure. We demand trial," the arrogant barrel pusher protested.

"They deserve no trial," the man of white-gray hair said, trying to go around me to the prisoners. When he accidentally bumped me, I cursed in pain, nearly doubling over. Jalana knocked him down and put her sword to his throat, growling with displeasure. The man of white-gray hair dropped the sword and held out his hands in surrender.

"Let him up, Jalana, but keep his weapon," I said. "Dalena, I beg you sister, fetch me a rope. Twenty feet or more."

Dalena took but a few steps before the rescued women, Sarah Little among them, rushed forward in a group. One ran for a rope. I went to a tree by the side of the road, found a convenient branch, and had the rope thrown over. The prisoner who had demanded trial was brought to me and the rope placed around his neck. I personally tied it with a crude slipknot.

"You wish trial, forage master. So be it," I said. "About me I see murder, assault, and arson. Will any here stand witness to my observation?"

"I stand witness," the man of white-gray hair said.

"And I," Sarah Little shouted, raising her hand.

"We all do," said a new widow only twenty years of age. The other women came forward to add their voices.

"What say you, prisoner at the bar? In what manner will you defend the accusation?" I asked, getting close enough to smell the man's fearful breath.

"This is no legal trial," he said, gazing at me in trepidation.

"In a land without law, justice is where we find it," I said, remembering the words I'd read in Hogarth's pamphlet. "Sarah, bring your women here. All who wish may stand ready on the end of the rope."

"No, you can't do this," the prisoner protested. "My brotherhood is but half a day away. Release me and I will tell you where they camp."

"Prisoner at the bar, I find you guilty of the indictment. The sentence is death. Women, draw the rope back until I tell you to halt."

The man of white-gray hair rushed to join the women, yanking on the rope. I had it pulled until the man's toes barely touched the ground, his neck stretched, breathing nearly cut off. Then I ordered the rope tied to a lower branch, leaving the prisoner to strangle slowly by the weight of his own body. So constricted was his windpipe that he could not plead for clemency. Such is what I wanted.

"You have an unsuspected cruelty in you," Jalana said, standing at my side as the man's eyes bulged.

"Does Yatz, Horse Corporal to the Company Azure, also demand trial?" I asked, walking back to the remaining prisoner.

"No, Magistrate. I beg mercy," Yatz said, putting his forehead to the ground.

Mercy he would not have, but I needed information.

"Tie him to a wagon wheel and tend our wounded," I ordered, thoughtlessly usurping Jalana's authority. With the battle over, she appeared not to mind.

"I am Josler, High Deacon of The Commons. We thank you for our lives, Magistrate, and the justice given," the leader said, shaking my hand.

"I am magistrate no longer, and what occurred here today was not justice. Yet I find it necessary. Were these farmers to take up new lives in The Commons?"

"They were, come down from The Angle's tyranny. Now only their women will breathe the free air of a free land," Josler said.

It pleased me to know Arthur County had not suffered as lands in the north had, but I did not envy them, for my life there seemed long ago with little I cared to remember. Suddenly my knees grew weak and I slowly sank to the ground. Jalana took my arms before I fell.

"You strive too much, Magistrate. Now you will rest," she said.

Unwise would be the person who contradicts a war captain of the Red Leather.

* * * * * *

There were too many bodies for us to bury individually, so the slain farmers were placed in a common grave. I said words of memorial just after sunset, wishing their souls swift flight to a better world, and Josler gave a sermon. The bodies of the marauders were stripped and hung by the heels at the mouth of the pass, a black X burned into their foul hides. The brand represented the crossed swords on the royal seal that had once adorned King Tarten's warrants. For those in the region who thought the marauders invulnerable, the message would be heartening. For the freebooters, it was a warning that righteousness yet lived. I added a small OV below each X, my personal mark.

"We would celebrate our victory, but the wagon women are too fresh in their sorrow," Jalana said, sitting next to me at our campfire.

The night had gradually grown clear, the stars out in force. A gentle wind rustled through the trees. The Farina and I made a separate camp, the forest women being much feared. Dalena stood guard at the top of the pass. Sobbing was heard from the wagons.

"To slay such males brings joy to my heart," Obina said, eating a roast chicken donated by a grateful farmer.

"I feel strange. These are but city women with no bonds of clan, yet saving them brought much satisfaction. Are these the feelings you have, Owen, when you set out to help others?" Yana asked.

"Helping others is not always so satisfying, but I rode with pride today, sisters. Because of you. It's been a long time since I've felt so useful."

"What of these other Azures the coward spoke of?" Cathe asked.

"They call themselves soldiers of the road. Normally such are mercenaries, but these are nothing but a band of criminals," I explained.

"How can one tell the difference?" Yana asked.

"It's not always easy. The Black Axe are rough but keep a code. Though what they did to Jalana is inexcusable, I suspect it was a misfortune of circumstances. Even Golan would not consider doing that which was done here today. We need to be watchful and trust none until the trust is earned."

We broke camp at dawn. I convinced Josler to take his people back to Varna until safe passage to The Commons could be assured. The burnt wagon had to be left behind, the women climbing into the other three. Yana and Dalena rode scout for our party while Jalana, Josler and I rode with the wagons. Yatz followed on foot, tied at the wrists by a rope secured to Jalana's saddle. From time to time she would speed up just to drag the man off his feet. Cathe and Obina brought up the rear. A bonus for our victory was the capture of the marauders' horses and weapons, which we would sell in Arbor.

Just past midday we reached the outskirts of Varna, twenty or so brick and straw buildings huddled on a wooded flood plain. It was here that Whistler's Creek spilled into the Great River some half a mile away. I half-expected to see the village in flames but all seemed quiet. Jalana brought her warriors together, spears and swords ready. Josler led the wagons as we plodded down the main road and over the stone bridge into the village square. I noticed a modest church of brown brick, a mercantile, two rough wooden stables, and a tavern. None of the buildings were especially noteworthy.

Thirty townspeople carrying rusty swords and pitchforks stood silently as we entered the village square. Most were grandfathers or teenagers. The women and children of Varna hid in their homes at first, but emerged when they saw Josler's farmers. The wounded marauder, exhausted from the trail, caused many raised eyebrows. The beautiful Farina caused more. That I rode at the head of the column gave me an undeserved preeminence.

"Should you be welcomed, strangers?" an elder asked, coming forward alone.

"We ride north seeking no trouble. Have you a constable?" I asked, slowly dismounting. The elder looked at the Farina before answering.

"The militia is called to Arbor," he said cautiously.

"Have them called back. Freebooters are but a few hours down the road, as Josler and his people will testify," I warned.

"Magistrate, what of this creature?" Jalana asked, pulling Yatz to the side of her horse. The man's wounds were bleeding again. I chose to let them bleed.

"Magistrate?" the elder said.

"He is Owen Vander, Magistrate of Arthur County, and a great warrior," Sarah Little said, running over from the wagon. There was a bounce in her step. Excitement in her expression. Puppy love in her eyes. Given what had happened, I admired her resiliency.

"I've heard of you, though it's been many years," a tall elder said, stepping from the crowd with his sword lowered.

"He saved us from murder," Josler said, bringing the surviving women with him.

The villagers lowered their pitchforks. Four elders surrounded me. I looked to Jalana, for it was she who had saved the wagon party. She read the question in my eyes and shook her head, declining credit. Acknowledgement from villagers meant nothing to Farina. The stories would be shared at the summer bonfires when they returned home.

"We have a prisoner. He has committed murder, kidnap, and arson. He claims his brothers of the Company Azure will come seeking revenge. How would you have him dealt with?" I asked.

The elders studied Yatz before retreating to converse among themselves. They returned of a single mind.

"We would have the villain done with as you see fit, Magistrate," their leader said.

"I am magistrate no longer, nor is there a royal authority available to extend the king's commission," I explained. "You must also know that punishing this villain for his crimes may draw the wrath of his company. Such risk must not be taken lightly."

The village square stood silent. The elders retreated again, but only briefly.

"We claim you as our own, Magistrate, until the day the young king returns. Act in our name that justice may be done," the elder bravely announced.

"Thus shall it be," I agreed, so anxious to see the murderer punished that I had stumbled headlong into Hogarth's dilemma. The merchant in Arbor had argued an inherent right for the people to seek justice. I had disagreed, maintaining justice may only originate from royal authority. Anything else was but vigilantism, and thus not justice at all. I still didn't think the merchant correct. Granting civil authority to the people must inevitably lead to chaos, and yet I had freely accepted the responsibility. The process of reaching a legal verdict would trouble me for some time. The sentence would not.

After a trial of sufficient gravity, I had the freebooter lashed at the post, then bound hand and foot and thrown into the river weighted by stones. He begged for his life to the last but I would have none of it. Having seen the villain's heart, I lost no sleep.

Our stay in Varna proved eventful. Yatz had hardly finished sinking into the depths when Jalana and Cathe came to me with weapons ready. They had discovered what I already knew, much to my concern.

"These village dwellers have no warriors to defend them," Jalana said.

"They've sent a messenger to Arbor. The militia will return the day after tomorrow," I said.

"The Azure may be here by sundown," Cathe protested.

I must admit their attitude surprised me. I did not inquire why they felt fear for the villagers. It wasn't my place to question the motives of warriors. Josler and the village leader, old Hamish, nervously approached.

"We beg a word, Magistrate," Hamish said. "The people are frightened. What if the Azure come looking for their own? Our defenses are weak, the militia gone."

"My women and children are tired, our horses unfit for the road. Can you help us?" Josler asked.

It seemed to me that flight was the best option, though the village would be pillaged in their absence. And they would not be able to take most of their stock animals. Even a prosperous village would find such losses distressing, and Varna was struggling. I was about to offer a suggestion but was interrupted.

"Fear not, city folk. Magistrate will protect you," Jalana declared, a fist gripping her sword hilt.

Cathe stood at her side holding a spear. Yana came running with her longbow, sensing excitement, followed by Obina and Dalena. I should not have been surprised.

"We'll stay until your militia returns," I agreed.

"Thank you, Magistrate, thank you. We welcome your guidance. What should we do?" Hamish asked with relief.

I huddled with Jalana, for I thought it a good question. She had no trouble making the necessary decisions. Though I gave instructions for the defense of the village, having grown up in a small town, Jalana organized the actual fighting force, deploying archers and shoring up weaknesses in our position. We piled hay bales between the buildings in the village square, relying on the animal pens and the creek to impede a mounted attack. Everyone worked hard, especially the teenage boys, who competed with each other for Farina attention.

As we had arrived from Martin's Meadow without incident, I thought it unlikely a raid would come from the south. If the freebooters were north of us, they would have been intercepted by the militia during their march to Arbor. Jalana decided the enemy's probable approach would be from the east where the wheat fields were still drying from the rain. The villagers were frightened, of course, which was to be expected. I would have been obsessed with fear had there not been so many duties requiring my attention. And every half hour, Cathe forced me to rest, drink water, and have the wound inspected. Her demands were not to be dismissed.

Jalana kept Dalena and Cathe with her on the eastern barrier, assigning Yana and Obina to command a smaller group of defenders on the south. Sarah Little and the younger women were given the responsibility of watching the horses, Jalana anticipating a mounted counterattack should it appear worthwhile. Jalana posted me at the tavern which had been made ready to receive casualties, though I crept forward late in the day with my bow, unwilling to be revealed a total coward. Jalana stomped her foot impatiently when she saw me at the barricade but did not send me back.

"What do you think, war captain?" I asked.

Jalana stood on the roof of a grain shed, studying the darkening horizon.

"Riders approach. No less than fifteen horsemen, no more than twenty-five," she said. A wind kicked up from the creek, her hair whipping in the breeze.

"Will they dare attack?" a bald grandfather asked.

"I believe so. They come on quickly," Jalana said. "Archers, take position. Swords to the flanks. Warriors at the point."

By warriors, Jalana meant her own women. Josler and several village men insisted on joining them in a spirit of defiance. I had to take a spot in the middle or lose all self-respect, though I admit staying as low as possible behind my treasured hay bale.

Twenty-two members of the Company Azure approached along the Kilroy Trail half an hour before sunset, spreading out into the wheat field as they got closer. A greenish blue banner flapped in a soft breeze above their chieftain as they stopped to survey the village. Most of us kept low at Jalana's order, not wanting to reveal our strength. Or lack of it. Jalana was bolder, standing at her observation post for all to see. Most particularly, for the Azure to see, for they would be anxious to win such a delicious prize. The war captain knew well how to draw the enemy's attention.

The Azure seemed a typical freebooting society. They wore thick leather vests for protection. A few had steel helmets. The clothing varied in color and quality, though shades of blue were dominant among them. Their mounts were good stock, pawing at the damp ground and ready to move. Each man carried a broadsword, some had spears, and a few held crossbows. They showed no particular concern with the opposition until Jalana waved a torn trophy we had captured at the meadows. Cap's bloody shirt. Even from fifty yards away, I saw the rage in their eyes.

The leader drew his sword, waved it boldly over his head, and the company charged, thinking to panic the village into flight. Between the fearful thundering of the hooves and vile oaths shouted by the attackers, I felt like running for the river as fast as I could. Perhaps a few others felt that way, too, but with Jalana standing ready with her spear, we cowards took heart. Dalena straddled the barricade with her longbow and Cathe quickly joined her. I attempted to pull back my bowstring, but pain suddenly tore through my side with such fury that I gave up the effort. Jalana was still atop the shed exposed to Azure arrows, which greatly concerned me. Everyone else had the protection of the barricade. As I was unable to fight, I decided to take a wooden shield from a burly teenager and crawl up on the roof, kneeling at Jalana's feet with the shield held before both of us. She held up her hand, causing the archers to wait. And wait. As the horsemen grew ever closer, my heartbeat so hard I could barely breathe.

"Now!" Jalana shouted.

As one, the arrows flew followed by several spears. The Azure were suddenly met by a wave of sharpened projectiles and ferocious Farina war cries. At least four of the freebooters were hit with the first flight along with several of their horses, and Jalana had waited until they were too close for an easy retreat. Spears were thrown back at us, one penetrating my wooden shield with such force that the tip cut my forearm. Then shouts of retribution filled the air as the Azure regrouped to charge again, but the villagers were steadfast, unleashing another volley that brought the assault to a disastrous halt.

The muddy field did not help the enemy. As the horses turned and kicked, many suffering wounds, it became difficult for their leader to keep control. I saw him angrily barking at his men, sweeping his big sword back and forth for attention, directing his bowmen to kill the village leadership. Jalana, in particular, seemed to be the object of his ranting. Unless he was pointing at me, which I deemed unlikely given how low I was crouching. The war captain hurled one of her spears, striking a rider through the shoulder. Two bowmen made her their target. I held up the battered shield, tempted to close my eyes. One arrow hit the shield, the other flew wild.

That's when I saw Yana appear out of nowhere. With her were Obina and four intrepid teenage boys. They had apparently crept up on the Azure left flank through a drainage ditch, emerging behind a split rail fence used to keep cows out of the creek, and now they unleashed a volley of arrows at point blank range. The leader toppled dead from his saddle, killed instantly by Yana's first shot. Obina killed the man next to him. Hardly a minute later, the Azure were in full retreat, leaving six dead and three injured on the field. One of the freebooters delayed flight, dismounting to help a wounded comrade. He was quickly slain.

With the greatest difficulty, I prevented the warrior women from pursuing the foe, for the odds were still three-to-one. The villagers cheered from behind their hay bales. Cathe helped me down from the shed, wrapping the wound I had received with frowning disapproval. I saw Obina out in the field finishing off the wounded with her knife.

"It cannot end here," Jalana said even as people were crying tears of joy.

There were only a few injuries among the defenders, none of them serious. Some of the teenage boys dared to kiss the Farina in lusty victory. The Farina showed surprising tolerance, for boys were not to their tastes.

"The war captain is right. The males will rally to seek revenge on the new light," Dalena said, sitting on the wall surveying the battlefield.

"The Azure will use stealth next time. Come from several directions and close with swords. None of these village dwellers are fit for such challenge," Obina agreed.

"There are ten or fifteen raiders left, killers all. What can we do?" I asked.

"We will wait for the moon," Jalana said, glancing toward the setting sun.

"The moon?" Sarah Little asked, standing ready with a quiver of arrows.

"The moon, Goddess to the Stars, young warrior," Cathe indulgently advised.

"And what will you do with this moon?" I asked.

"We will attack," Jalana declared.

An hour after sunset, as the moon rose above the mountains in the east, Jalana led her women out into the darkness with a dozen of the old men and boys. She would not let me go, and I'm not sure that I really wanted to. But the hours grew long, the quiet of the nervous village unsettling. After burying the bodies in a pit near the river and preparing an evening meal, there was nothing to do but wait. No one was sure how far away the enemy camp was, or how well guarded, or how many fighting men remained. In truth, I was very worried, for I had grown extremely fond of my Farina. Jalana had dismissed my fears. She insisted it was harder to sneak up on a hibernating bear than a pack of ignorant males.

When dawn approached, I could wait no longer. Better to risk an Azure spear than tremble in unending suspense, so I strapped on Sir John's sword, had a grandmother boost me into the saddle of my golden-brown mare, and slowly rode into the rising sun over the mist covered fields. The Farina trail would be hard to follow, but the freebooters' trail was not. Wary of an ambush, I took little notice of the morning at first but gradually grew aware of the meadow larks chirping in the trees and fish splashing in the creek on my right. I saw a deer but did not stop to hunt. Dark thoughts invaded my mood, fearing Jalana had taken the Azure threat too lightly.

An hour from the village, I saw smoke above the woods up ahead. Leaving the sword in my scabbard, I pulled the bow into my lap, nocked an arrow, and rode forward slowly, cresting a tree covered slope to find a scene I didn't expect.

"Magistrate? What are you doing here?" Obina shouted, running to make sure I wouldn't fall off the horse.

"Owen, you were told to guard the village," Jalana said, well aware that I lacked the ability to guard anything. She rushed to help Obina get me down.

Jalana's army was eating breakfast. I saw four heavy wagons in a half circle filled with supplies. Six dead freebooters lay piled at the edge of the woods. A small herd of horses grazed in the meadow. They had dozens of chickens, four sheep, and a goat. I sighed with relief.

"I have come to fight at your side, war captain. The village was too peaceful," I answered, only the Farina accepting my declaration as a jest. The men and boys stood up, plates of bacon and cornbread in their hands. All seemed pleased to see me.

"I'm sorry, Magistrate, but it wasn't much of a fight," Cathe said.

"The males were draining their rum kegs when we struck. Some ran toward the mountains," Dalena explained.

"Many did not get that far," Yana said, the bow slung over her shoulder.

I learned the Company Azure, or what was left of them, had fled south without food or wagons. Varna's militia would have little trouble rounding them up, if any survived.

After the meal, we buried the bodies and packed up the captured booty. The surprise assault was so complete that the freebooters' entire season of ill-gotten gains was taken. Thirty horses, barrels of grain and corn, silver plate, a stockpile of weapons, and even a small chest of silver coin. I was careful to inventory the goods pending return to the rightful owners, but most of the spoils could not be held to account. I decided we would divide the goods between the village, the aggrieved farmers, and the victorious Farina. The silver would be used for my journey to Kannae.

Varna celebrated until midnight. The grateful villagers cooked their best food, broke out the finest wine, and feted the female warriors as true heroes, much to their appreciation and expectations, for heroes they were. I was treated with even greater esteem, the people crediting me with their salvation. When I started to object, Jalana grabbed my hair with a painful yank and threatened worse if I tried to cause trouble, saying it was not for me to shatter the illusions of simple folk.

When the moon set and the tired villagers retired to sleep, the Farina made their own camp above a lagoon near the river. Here they purified themselves with soap root and paid homage to the Dread Goddess for their victory, never forgetting the spiritual source of their strength. Jalana said the sacred words of thanks, Cathe burned leaves from the forest, and all sang the ancient songs, stripping off their leathers and dancing around a bonfire in their natural wonder. I was allowed to watch.

* * * * * *

To be continued in part five: Savages in the City