The town was abuzz with last-minute preparations and necessities remembered in the final hours—an ever-present aspect of long journeys made only grander by the scope of the trip. The people's excitement and anticipation were palpable. It would be a three-day journey to the Holy Grounds, and even with the full force of the village gathered in arms for an escort, fear held a foothold in the people's hearts.

  Despite the promise of safety, no one could deny the risks. The village held no treasure in higher regard than the young, and few of the local beasts valued any treasure more than food. No matter how many precautions they took, the fear of losing anyone to an attack, let alone children, was pervasive.

  The final plans for arranging the caravan made up a large part of the commotion that morning. Few groups brought anything of real value that wasn’t necessary for their relocation. The craftsmen, of course, needed their supplies just to keep the village functional. Between that and the provisions needed for the trip, while planning what perishables would need to be consumed first and what foods would weather the journey to sustain them at the Holy Grounds, the beasts of burden were all but at capacity.

  The elders finally intervened and curtailed the burgeoning arguments between cattle drivers. The top priority, in their eyes, was to plan proper spacing between any food stores and areas allocated for families. It stood to reason that any attacks would be focused on these areas, but consolidating the food stores would give the best chance at predicting where an ambush might fall and properly placing garrisons of guardsmen. No place would be left undefended or inaccessible to a quick response team, which would patrol the length of the caravan.

  Goods could be replaced, even at great cost, but the people and the provisions needed to make the trip were invaluable. Anything else could be put in the buffer zones, with the owners of the goods taking charge of those zones. Temperance fell into this group, gladly accepting a supporting role in the defense of his zone. He was never one to bear the mantle of leadership, but neither would he shirk responsibility. Men like him would hold the line for their loved ones. Everyone, even the most disagreeable, ornery curmudgeon, was cared for in a village such as this.

  The Moors were a cruel place; its tribes had to be better to survive their harsh homeland. How intertribal politics would play out, that was a tale of many endings. In an age of chaos, the people had high hopes for a gathering of peace, but that was a problem to be addressed after they arrived intact.

  Anilith, Olina, and Willett were late, but no later than expected of a group housing a whimsical young child. While they weren’t taking much with them, nor even owned much to begin with, Olina had particular difficulty deciding exactly what she wanted to bring.

  It wasn’t only a matter of what she wanted, but rather what Wiggums needed for such a journey. After no small degree of back-and-forth, she settled on a simple blanket for comfort and a hat to keep the rain off his head: exactly what she’d chosen when they initially set out.

  Anilith, a patient smile on her face, asked, “Found everything you need, Lini dear?”

  “Yeah, Wiggums just really wanted to make sure he had the right quipments for the trip is all. His favorite hat is just too broken to bother wearing outside, but he just hates to leave it, y’know? I told him, ‘Wiggums, some day you just gotta give things up, even if it’s hard. That’s what Lolly always says, she says part of growin up means knowin better what you need.’ Took some convincing, but eventually he got it through his thick head.”

  Willett rolled his eyes at her antics but couldn’t keep his lips from turning upwards. “So, you’re ready then?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re good….unless…”

  “No! Let’s get going before they leave us behind, crazy head!”

  Anilith chuckled, “I believe Temperance is waiting for us so we can stay close. He wants to help keep an eye on you two, after all. Best not keep him waiting.”

  “Yeah,” Olina said pensively, “Yeah, let’s go find Tempy!”

  “You know he hates when you call him that, Olina,” Willett said pointedly.

  “Oh, c’mon, he hardly knows what he likes,” she countered, full of the jubilance of youth.

  The walk over to the village outskirts, where the militia worked at organizing the caravan, was brief and uneventful. Signs everywhere along the way told a different story for countless other villagers. Anilith found herself silently thankful for Olina’s indecision, which may, in fact, have saved them time in the long run.

  The traffic on the first roadway Anilith would have normally taken the kids down had ground to a halt after two drivers misjudged the distance between them. The cart was left with mostly cosmetic damage while the other, a slightly older-looking wagon, sat lopsided after the spokes on its rear wheel splintered from the impact. This, naturally, left the road an impasse as now neither driver had the space to get through, and they had to wait for repair teams to come and clear up the mess.

  Nothing was more damaged, however, than the pride of the first driver. Bristling at the inconvenience and absolutely agape at the delay, he let everyone know he was clearly in the right here and gestured animatedly at the “ghastly” damage to his mode of conveyance.

  The other driver seemed more concerned with whether or not anyone was injured in the incident and genuinely thankful that neither cart nor wagon suffered any major structural damage.

  “Boards and wheels can be replaced, but a broken frame would damn the whole venture,” Anilith heard the second driver say as they passed the road by.

  “But do you have any idea what the artistry on those boards cost?”

  Ushering the kids along swiftly, Anilith chuckled at the display. Even among such neighborly people, vanity and arrogance found their foothold.

  “At least it keeps coin flowing to the artisans,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What’d you say, Lolly?”

  “Nothing, Lini dear, keep hold of your brother’s hand and watch where you’re walking, now.”

  Hurrying on their way, Anilith carved a careful path down the road until a bout of carelessness up ahead ended with an apparent injury. Trained as she was in basic first aid, she stopped and offered assistance.

  Taking a moment to examine the man’s ankle, she noted that the discoloration and evident range of motion most likely indicated a sprain: painful and ill-timed but not debilitating.

  A small crowd gathered in concern in those passing moments, but she dispelled their worry saying, “Don’t worry it’s just a sprain. A quick wrap and he’ll be right as rain. I’ve got my hands full with these two,” she gestured to her siblings with her thumb, ”so he’ll need some help getting to the caravan, though.”

  Olina stuck her tongue out rudely at her sister as those gathered laughed at the touch of levity. Two brothers, not much younger than Anilith, quickly offered their assistance, to everyone’s relief. In hardly any time at all, everyone was on their way, albeit some at a more reserved pace.

  Having seen the ankle-breaker in the road as they slowed, Anilith couldn’t help but think the man’s misfortune had saved her careless sister from a similar, if not worse, fate.

  In this way, the trio made decent time despite the general commotion of a large village mobilizing en masse. The gods appeared to smile on them, as all serious delays fell either just behind them or led to a fortunate detour. Fickle as divinity could be, Anilith gave a silent prayer in thanks.

  “Well now, Ani,” Temperance said, jumping to his feet, “it’s about time! I was beginning to think you all slept through the excitement!”

  From the parcels precisely loaded onto his perfectly sized cart, it was clear to Anilith that Temperance had arrived early, as always.

  “Not all of us are compulsively punctual, you big lug. You try getting these two out of the door in the morning!”

  “I’m sure they were just helping you find your go-bag. Always ready but never prepared.”

  They all laughed, used to this vein of ribbing between the old friends.

  “Seriously, seeing you takes a weight off.” Temperance let out a breath. “I was starting to worry. The village is on edge; it doesn’t take clairvoyance to feel that. It’s best to be with the ones you know have your back.”

  “Lini, why don’t you go set Wiggums up to watch over Temperance’s gear? And Will, make sure she doesn’t break anything, please.”

  Olina happily ran over to find the perfect place for Wiggums to keep an eye on Temperance’s livelihood, after all, it was the least she could do.

  “We can talk about that when the kids aren’t around, but I’d have to be insensate not to see the signs. Master trained us better than that.”

  “Master trained you, Ani. I just learned by proxy. Do you think I’d have ever been graced with master’s presence were it not for you?”

  “Temperance, the only reason Master hasn’t taken you under his wing is because your calling lies elsewhere. You’re an artist with a hammer, but that doesn’t make it less impressive that your shield stands solid as an anvil before anyone foolish enough to try and break through. Iron will splinter like so many fragments if it underestimates your mettle.”

  “We both know I can’t hold a candle to your talent. You’re all but Chosen already; they just need to make it official.”

  “You could be, too, old friend, you just need to stop standing in your own way. What does Master always say?”

  “‘Greatness comes to those brave enough to take the risk.’ But, Ani, we both know Will and Olina will need me if anything goes wrong in the trials…”

  “Stop. Will and Olina are stronger than you give them credit. Sure, she needs a watchful eye every now and then, but she has a knack for avoiding the worst trouble. Like master says, ‘Luck is a talent all its own.’”

  “But…”

  “You know I’m right. So, assuming I’m chosen in the first place, the best thing you could do for them if I didn’t come back from the trial, which isn’t a remote possibility in my eyes, is to work on your own future.” She went on with a glint in her eye, “Forge your path!”

  Shaking his head, Temperance replied, “Gods, Ani, some days I think your sense of humor will be the death of me. Reminds me of your father.”

  “Yeah, his jokes were the worst,” she said in jest, her jovial attitude a little more forced than before.

  Silence filled the space between them, the nearby sounds of Willett and Olina getting settled belied the somber air.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “They would be proud of you, Anilith. They always were, but the strength you’ve shown these past few years honors them beyond words.”

  Breathing deeply for a moment, Anilith muttered, “She hardly remembers them, Temperance, even I’m losing their details. Sure, she knows some stories, but it’s not them. She knows the ghost of a memory, and I’m losing the memory of a ghost.”

  A span of breaths passed in the companionable way only old friends can share, a brief repose in a turbulent world.

  “Sometimes I see them in my dreams. I know I do, clear as anything, but I wake up and they’re already fading into the ether, gone to the edge of memory like the dreams they are; there but just…gone. And every time I’m just left without the chance to say goodbye.”

  “I know that eats at you. I wish it didn’t, but it’s the world we live in. The Moors are cruel to take those we love, swallowing them whole without a trace, but they live on in our thoughts, in our actions. You three are their greatest legacy.”

  Whether she heard him or not, she went on, “Will handles it the best of us. He keeps me grounded, really. Kid’s smarter than he has any right to be with his thick-skulled sister raising him, doesn’t forget a thing either. For all the details I forget, he’s got an answer and then some. The only thing better than his head’s his heart, and I know he got that from ma.”

  Giving her a moment before breaking the silence, Temperance put his arm around her and softly said, “Come on, Ani. Let’s get you settled in. I managed to snag a place just ahead of one of the ‘safe’ zones. We can stick together the whole way, keep an eye on those two.”

  The two walked unhurriedly over to where the children stood, making themselves at home.

  “The militia is still scouting ahead and clearing a path. It’s not going to be a quick trip with so many people, but they’re doing everything they can to make it a safe one. Feel free to store your things in my wagon, Owen won’t even notice the extra load.”

  Two days in, and the trip so far had been uneventful, if nothing else. The militia was doing an excellent job of keeping the beasts away, whether baiting them away from the path they set or repelling creatures directly. Nothing had come close to the caravan itself, and injuries were kept within acceptable margins. No one expected this to be a bloodless journey, after all.

  Anilith and Temperance had volunteered to patrol their section of the caravan in case anything made it that far. The militia appreciated the opportunity to reallocate a few men to better protect the people under their charge. While they weren’t the only patrol in their area, the most experienced warriors made up the advance teams that paved the way for everyone else. The Blade Weaver’s apprentice and her companion were a welcome addition to any defense effort, while their master himself played an important role in organizing the quick response teams in the event of an emergency.

  All in all, it was a boring job so far, and the pair couldn’t be happier about the fact. Exciting events are tainted when innocent lives are at stake. A day and a half more of boring patrols, and they could leave this whole ordeal behind them.

  Willett and Olina gladly took charge of the wagon while Anilith and Temperance made their rounds. Willett loved sitting in the driver’s seat; Olina was simply enamored with Owen, Temperance’s lowback. He was a simple, blubbery beast of burden: slow, but powerful. Temperance had raised him from an eggling, and he knew the children well. Olina had a longstanding tradition of sneaking Owen whatever snacks she could find, and he was not a selective eater.

  “Back in a few,” the two called out as they set out for their next patrol. “Keep your eyes up and trust Owen! He has a good sense for finding a path.”

  The swamp lands weren’t known for long stretches of solid ground, making long treks like this even slower than solitary forays. The militia gladly used this to their advantage, allowing their smaller teams time to scout and handle potential threats while the caravan just mucked along, one plodding step after another.

  More than a few wagons and carts needed to be rescued when their wheels got bogged down. Even designed as they were for traversing these lands, with enough movement, even the “solid” ground tended to destabilize and return to chaotic mire. This, of course, added even more time to the already slow journey as the people worked together to fashion a way forward.

  The two worked in silence, well aware of the importance of their task. As much as they hoped for another peaceful day, they knew their home better than to tempt its ire needlessly. The better part of an hour later, Temperance disrupted their silent vigil.

  “I can’t help but think that Owen is going to be impossible to deal with after this,” he sighed, shaking his head. “He loves it when Olina comes to visit, always pestering me for extra snacks for days afterwards. He may never be the same after this.”

  The two shared a laugh, even as Temperance’s uneasy gaze spoke to the truth behind his words.

  “Well, at least he’ll be even more difficult to stop with a few extra pounds. I’m already not sure anyone but you could stop him when…”

  An outcry of birds taking flight shattered the moment, the cacophony causing a cascade of events. Every head scanned their surroundings for any sign of a disturbance while a distant cry from ahead called out, “Ambush! Defensive formations!”

  The sounds of steel escaping leather confines whispered up and down the line as the order was relayed. Shock kills more people in these moments than one can ever prepare for. Even coached as they were in what to do in the event of an attack, no amount of planning can overcome that basal fight-or-flight response. It is these moments that define the heroes from the prey.

  Anilith and Temperance shared a look before she took off down the line, rousing the shell-shocked and sounding the alarm. Temperance made haste for Olina, Willett, and Owen to ensure their safety. Neither knew what shape the threat would take, but each knew their role and would perform it to their last breath; such is the character the people foster in their warriors. When the very land wants your head, indecision means disaster and hesitation, death.

  Both took up the cry, “Get in position, guard the woman and children!”

  Anilith moved with uncommon speed, racing down the line, head on a swivel, keeping an eye for any weak link in the chain. Every person she touched meant a chance to save their own skin, and she couldn’t bear the thought of failing even one of the people, her people.

  Even knowing she couldn’t save them all if fated misfortune reared its head, she pushed herself to the limit. Seeing the next defensive line ahead, with no stragglers in the intervening space, she doubled back to check on those behind them.

  She hardly paused to spot Temperance shepherding her family, and so many others, into their designated shelter amid the largest of the wagons, his hammer steadfast in his grip and his shield a bastion of security for those behind him. The other defenders took up positions around the civilians, giving a buffer zone to those shaking in fear. The day turned sour in an instant.

  That was not Anilith’s role. She was the wind that spread the seeds of safety, a blanketing presence sowing calm. Wherever a beast might show itself, she would be among the first to reach it. Her blades sang in her hands, each giving her strength and comfort after years together, each a promise of violence to those who threatened her people.

  Nearing the next defensive line, she saw a handful of people, men, women, and a child, struggling to drag a man along to the barricade. He clutched at his chest, his age and the panic too much for him. He needed a healer, but the guards were spread too thin here, and they couldn’t break formation to help.

  Terror and helplessness filled the eyes of the onlookers; none were willing to leave safety and add more bodies in need of saving.

  A small voice reached her ears. “Mommy! Daddy! I’m scared! We have to get Poppa over there! They said to be there if anything happened.”

  Anilith reached the group and slowed down, her mind keeping pace with the events.

  “You two,” she said, gesturing to the women, “take the child and run. I will do everything I can, leave them to me.”

  The child resisted, but the women pried him from the huddle and raced to the hastily established barricades with what speed they could muster in their state.

  It seemed so slow to Anilith, too slow. Every second dragged by like molasses in her eyes, dripping agonizingly slowly as she heard the sounds of battle break out at multiple points along the line.

  A roar and a splash resounded, too close for comfort. Turning to face the disturbance, she put her back to the men and said simply, “Go. You can do no more.”

  “We won’t leave him!”

  “Would you leave your women and child then?! GO!”

  Before her, thirty yards away, stood a rare beast. An ape-like creature, with arms like tree trunks and small but powerful legs, lichen growing in its fur, had launched itself from a distant copse of mangroves. The Aligo, something she only knew from stories, of which there were few due to how rare survivors were, stood threateningly, beating its chest. Behind her, sobs and rapid splashing marked the sound of the men retreating.

  If this were happening up and down the line, today would be a day of mourning. Anger burned in her chest, fueling her mind and speeding her perception. She steeled herself for what was to come, and then a second Aligo landed.

  For a moment, fear gripped her heart, and she glanced towards her garrison where a third embattled the defenders, Temperance at the fore. That momentary distraction gave the first beast confidence enough to rush at her, causing her master’s lessons to flood her with a sense of calm. She would be a Blade Weaver, and she would not let these beasts win.

  The second followed suit, lagging slightly behind the first, larger Aligo. Together, they rushed at Anilith, the cries of the men and women behind her giving her strength. They were fast, with a power to their limbs she couldn’t refute, but she was faster.

  She ducked the first haymaker and countered with a single slash. The blade sliced through the tough skin, meeting resistance she overcame through years of practice. Still, the damage was negligible, and the beast was entirely unfazed. It was well known that creatures of this land were so accustomed to pain that they seldom reacted to its bite.

  They weren’t the only beasts, though.

  Weaving through attacks, she left cut after cut on the beast, bleeding it as much as possible before the second joined the fray. Seizing a brief opening, she sliced behind the first beast’s ankle, hamstringing it. It crashed to the ground, splashing into the muck: disabled but far from neutralized.

  The second Aligo swung low, attempting to take her out at the knees in retribution. She jumped, vaulting away from the first creature and positioning the second between them. She fell into a rhythm: dodge, duck, slice, dip, jump, cut. Fast as the beast was, it couldn’t keep up with her, but she didn’t let her focus slip.

  She knew that one moment, one mistake was all it took to end even the greatest warrior. When you live life on the blade’s edge, each step must be calculated. That was master’s first lesson, a lesson she still struggled to embody due to its all-encompassing nature. To live by that mantra required a diligence seldom seen in the first decades of anyone’s life.

  Wounds built up on the second Aligo, mentally dubbed Aligwo, with an occasional blade directed at the first Aligone. The blood rushing through her veins kept her alert and focused, its cadence keeping her grounded in time. She knew she could win, even against two such dangerous monsters, unless something changed. The ground soaked up their blood by the ounce, becoming increasingly unstable. Already, pools of bloodied water marked places where their heavy feet split the earth.

  The fight was going so well, although it was doubtful many other defenders could say the same, and then the flow changed. It was minute, almost unnoticeable, but undeniable to her senses. The beasts were slowing down, becoming more cautious. Was the blood loss finally adding up?

  In an instant, they moved with such haste, she was simply unable to react. Aligwo linked hands with Aligone, swinging him around with such acceleration, Anilith hardly had time to raise her block. The beast’s hand moved her blades aside, losing several fingers for the maneuver, before its feet crashed into her. She flew fifteen feet, skipping across the water like a child’s plaything, before coming to a stop.

  Agony coursed through her body, each heartbeat identifying a new injury. These beasts were unexpectedly…smart, something she hadn’t factored into her calculations. Pushing herself to her knees, she already knew the fight had turned for the worse. She wouldn’t be able to move at speed any time soon. At least one rib had broken from that hit, and she considered herself fortunate she wasn’t in worse condition.

  They advanced.

  She was now closer to her garrison than the other, but she’d taken the attention from them and guaranteed them at least a moment’s reprieve. Firming her resolve, she prepared her final stand. While diminutive compared to Temperance, she would be the wall that kept her people safe.

  The beasts were noticeably showing the effects of the blood loss, finally, and their movements were sluggish by comparison. It was a small saving grace that let her almost keep up. Still, she was being pushed back an inch at a time. She pushed and pushed, draining herself of every bit of willpower in order to overcome the pain and hold the line.

  A brief opening in Aligone’s guard let her sidestep and thrust a blade through the beast’s armpit and into its heart. It collapsed, wrenching the blade from her hand, but she was halfway there.

  Seeing its mate fall, Aligwo let out a scream of such primal rage, Anilith froze for a moment. The monster grabbed her, its grip crushing, before throwing her bodily towards her garrison.

  “ANI!”

  She landed mere feet from the barricades, and an earth-shaking crash marked the arrival of her foe, blind to any other opponent.

  In that strange trance of awareness, fueled by her pain, she saw Temperance struggling to break past the barrier and reach her, hopelessly too late. She saw Aligwo raise its fists above its head, ready to pulverize her failing body. She saw these things, but had no strength left to even smile at meeting a warrior’s fate.

  She felt a breeze, a current of air she knew intimately, though she’d never seen it as such. A presence comforted her even as her consciousness began to fade. In a blink, the Blade Weaver was there, swords dripping blood like so much rain.

  Aligwo’s head fell free as its body met its fate.

  In her fading moments, she heard the soft voice of her master.

  “Oh, my student, how you overreach. To defend at such cost against that for which you are not ready, you do this old man proud.” Tears fell from those ancient eyes. “In a cruel land, the law of truth stands inescapable; ever the flame burning brightest falls silent before its time, its crackling light extinguished. Oh, my student, how you overreach. Sleep and know…”

  Anilith knew only darkness.