《REDCROWN – A post-apocalyptic western fantasy》 1. Battle at the Gully 1. Battle at the Gully - Friday January 9th, Year 216 Four figures, all similarly dressed in cotton shirts and pants with open leather jackets marched up a dusty hill, rifles swaying with their steps and pistols jostling likewise in their holsters. Between the four of them, a dozen sheep trotted merrily along, unaware of their role to play this day. Cresting the top, the late afternoon sun greeted them with a spiteful glare shining straight into their eyes. The view ahead was a familiar one. It was the third time this day they saw it and the fourth day they¡¯d been here. In front of them, downhill, there was an arroyo surrounded by sparse and dried out looking bush, tree and grass vegetation, feeding off the residual water retained from the previous spring floods, now three-quarters of a year past. Following the dry riverbed left and upward there was a wide gully or small ravine between two hills. The one on left side ¨C their side ¨C of the river was as barren and earthen as the one they stood on, while the other only had a smattering of dust atop a tiered, rocky mount, like a mesa buried in haste. Beyond them were more dusty and rocky hills, stretching onwards until they become dusty and rocky mountains. The gully between the hills was bathed in shadow caused by the low-hanging sun, making the rocky hill overlooking it a perfect place to stage an ambush. Or, in their case, to be ambushed. Sally herded the sheep over and slightly down the hill, setting them to graze while her mentor and senior Warden, Niall, remained at the top and pulled out his compact telescope to scout the rocky hill. Marcy and Tarak, the other two Wardens, moved off to the side a dozen or so feet away, taking out their own monocular to scout the other. After settling the sheep and making sure they stopped trying to eat her pants ¨C to their disgruntled beeeh¡¯s ¨C she walked back up the hill toward her mentor. ¡°So, what is it? Shykes? Bloodfiends? Skinners?¡± Sally asked, before leaning in, back of hand beside her mouth, wiggling eyebrows and whispering in faux-conspiracy: ¡°Erlings?¡± She¡¯d made her opinion quite clear the past three days. The grump of a man ¨C grey of beard, hair and mind ¨C gave her an unamused grunt and a stink-eye, lowered the compact telescope and passed it to her. Taking care not to look straight into the sun, Sally scanned the hill, looking for any sign of their predators. It didn¡¯t take much to catch them. Two skinny, pale skinned, long-limbed and eerily humanoid figures she knew to be taller than they looked were bunched up behind a rock and a bush much too small to hide their frames. Their long claws bore an unnaturally sharp edge, capable of slicing all along the edge rather than tearing with the tip. Although unseen behind their hiding spots, she knew from previous encounters their faces bore little feature beyond two holes for eyes and a circular, lamprey-like mouth. ¡°Skinners? Really?¡± She said, both annoyed and surprised. They¡¯d gone through this much effort just for skinners? The Palters Villa ¨C which Niall and her called home ¨C and the Guha Villa ¨C the home of the other duo of Warden¡¯s ¨C had both lost a number of sheep and goats the past weeks. This was a common enough occurrence, there were plenty of predators haunting the Grand Circuit, even in their own little corner in the northwest. That they had done so without leaving a trace was rarer, true, but not so much as to be alarming. What was, though, was the fact that the Guha had lost a farmer last week without a trace. No screams, no body, no blood, no trail at all to go by, and all within line of sight of the villa itself. That spoke to something more than base animal cunning. That was why they here. Because while lost herd and even lost kin was unfortunate, it was part of living in the communities making their home around the Circuits. To lose someone within throwing distance of their most guarded places, without alarm or even a trace? That was not just dangerous, but an active threat. Hence, Erlings. They might not be human, but the vicious furballs were definitely intelligent, belligerent and resourceful enough to pull it off. They also often sent scouts in advance of their raiding parties, attempting to gather intel on whatever defenses the Villas had built for their arrival. It would not be impossible for them to pull something like this off, though for what purpose was anybody¡¯s guess. It was not like they could interrogate their victim for information. The other thing to cast doubt was the timing. It was the beginning of January; winter had barely started. Normally, they would descend in the latter half of the season, when food and water were scarce and a supply raid on the Villas would be a success no matter the outcome; either they gained resources, lost mouths to feed, or both. They were intelligent enough to build up food stocks, she knew, and unless something had happened to their farms these past months ¨C which Warden¡¯s would and had scouted for ¨C the timing was strange. But it could easily be that the Warden¡¯s had, in fact, missed something that set them off. Either way, Erlings made the most sense. Not skinners. ¡°Was sure it was Erlings,¡± she grumbled, lowering the monocular and moving to hand it back. ¡°Should be Erlings.¡± ¡°Look again,¡± he chided. ¡°Carefully this time.¡± Accepting the critique with grace and only a slight roll of the eyes, she did. The same lanky forms, pale skin, sharp claws and pathetic skills at hiding. Twisting the dials, she zoomed in on one in particular, and once properly looking, it was easy to see what her mentor alluded to. What she assumed was pale skin mottled with dust, in fact, fur, and while she still could not see their heads, a pair of irregular patches she had not noticed changed slightly as she looked. A set of ears, twisting ever so slightly in an attempt to catch sounds. ¡°Skinner-wolves,¡± Sally said. Damn, she didn¡¯t say. ¡°How many do you see?¡± Niall replied. She zoomed out a bit, looking more carefully at other bushes, rocks and trees. Beside the two obvious ¨C were they even hiding, or purposefully visible in order to misdirect? ¨C she spotted two more, and maybe a third slightly behind the hill. Perhaps not so pathetic at hiding, then. ¡°Five. Expect around ten?¡± ¡°At least.¡± He rumbled, gesturing for the monocular, and moved toward the other two wardens. Sally followed. It explained his dour mood, and soured her own. When a skinner catches an animal, it sometimes, well, skins them ¨C thus the name ¨C and attaches parts of it to themselves to assume some of its characteristics. In the case of wolves, skinners transform from near-solitary individuals only hunting larger prey in small groups of up to four, into large packs ranging up to twenty individuals. They also become cannier, more tactically minded, more coordinated and much more cautious. They were rare. Not only does a skinner need to catch a wolf, it needs to catch and kill a whole pack and somehow convince other pre-wolved skinners to follow them. Which meant that at least one a particularly intelligent skinner was leading the pack. Considering the feats the skinners pulled so far, including evading them the past four days¡­ This was worse than a few Erling scouts. Much worse. X ¡°So, what, we leave?¡± Marcy said, barely controlling her temper. ¡°We still have the initiative, and the plan is solid.¡± The plan being: sheep in the gully at the front, two Wardens behind them deeper inside and two on the hill opposite that of the skinner-wolves. ¡°And then what? We cannot hunt them quickly. Nor without risk. We simply do not have the firepower,¡± Niall argued. ¡°Patience is key. We can come back later with more people, more rifles, a better plan and do this cleanly.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°We¡¯re dealing with skinner-wolves here, they¡¯re cowards,¡± Marcy countered ¡°There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll attack such a large group. Hell, they¡¯ve probably been observing us for the past three days, if we change behavior now the leader will know somethings up. And they won¡¯t stop hunting us and ours till they¡¯re dealt with.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll die here, and the Villas would be without Wardens. Better double our watch, maybe reach out to the Zjevik-Ong and lay down a better trap, one with a fallback.¡± Sally sat on the ground, rifle in front of her and idly petting a sheep as the back and forth went on and on for minutes. It was pointless anyhow. She was all in favor for the bold-and-daring approach, but she knew Niall. He¡¯d made up his mind and would rather walk away on his lonesome than participate in what he sees as a doomed plan. She¡¯d leave with Niall regardless of her own wants and there is no way Marcy and Tarak would do this on their own. As Marcy got more heated and Niall grew a cold anger, she got more ticked off by the second. She hated pointless debates like these, where continuing wouldn¡¯t make a difference besides more hurt feelings and such. In fact, she should make their stupidity clear. The quicker she did, the quicker they could- ¡°I-I brought explosives,¡± Tarak mumbled somewhat sheepishly. Sally, Marcy and Niall near snapped their necks to stare at Tarak. Their gaze prompted something within him and he opened his jacket. Strapped on either side of the jacket with leather bands were two times four odd-looking rods. Marcy sighed and rubbed her forehead. ¡°Tarak¡­¡± ¡°W-well, Sally kept talking about Erlings yesterday, and I still had this from when that trader ¨C remember, with the excess ammunition-¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say this earlier?¡± Niall questioned incredulously. ¡°We could¡¯ve been-¡± ¡°Alright, new plan.¡± Marcy interjected. ¡°Me and Tarak on the hill with six of the bombs, you and Sally in the gully with two, just in case. You-¡± Marcy grabbed the bombs from Tarak¡¯s jacket and tossed them over while continuing ¡°-lure the skinner-wolves in with the sheep- wait, are they still-¡± Marcy quickly grabbed her monocular ¡°good, still there. You move deep into the gully with the sheep, we watch them sneak up, throw our bombs and shoot who we can. Either they die or become too frightened and run away, hopefully for good. Any questions? Objections? No, okay let¡¯s get going.¡± The bullheaded woman grabbed Tarak by the arm and stomped away, Tarak practically being dragged in her wake. Sally watched her mentor as he stood silently, somewhat wide-eyed at Marcy¡¯s momentum, before sighing and looking at Sally. She shrugged, slung her rifle over her shoulder and began herding the sheep towards the gully. From behind she heard another sigh, before he too began guiding the sheep into the gully. X They walked into and toward end of the ravine, before the bend turned around the rocky hill. Niall took position near the wall of said bent while Sally went to a larger rock stranded in the riverbed. It, along with a wall of sheep, would hopefully protect them from the explosives. Niall gave Marcy a hand sign, the image of nonchalant stoicism while Marcy nodded back before disappearing from view. The wait was grating on her nerves. The darkening shadows cast by the setting sun, the shuffle and bleating of the sheep and her own impatience playing tricks on her mind. Any one of these shuffles could be a skinner-wolf missed by their overwatch, rush toward them and slice them to bits. And she could not wait before it actually happened. There was no place she¡¯d rather be. While the anxiety was annoying, it made her feel like a strung bow, taut, waiting to be pulled and then, finally, released. That release was why she was here. Why she used to do the kind of stupid stunts from atop the Villa that made her parents clutch their hearts. Why she would, as a teen, sneak out during the night with her father¡¯s gun to hunt monsters by the river. Why she quickly become angry, was quick to pick a fight, and wished to leave and run the Circuits in her early adolescence. Why her parents convinced her to become a Warden, rather than go elsewhere to seek that thrill. To get that feeling, yet still contribute, still belong somewhere. After about ten minutes, she spotted something moving at the mouth of the ravine. Beyond the sheep, nearly hidden behind their mass, she a different form. One longer, lower to the ground and moving with purpose. With humanoid limbs ending in knives. With a wolf¡¯s head. She unslung the rifle, checked her belt for her sidearm, knife and gifted explosive and turned toward Niall. He¡¯d done the same and gave her a nod. The silence lasted for a minute longer, more shapes creeping down from the covered mesa and into the gully. They were quiet and difficult to spot, clearly ambush predators, but eventually one of the sheep poked its head up from the grazing herd and gave out a single warning bleat. The heads of the rest snaped up, glanced at the skinner-wolves before scarpering away. ¡°Fire in the hole!¡± Marcy yelled and Sally took cover behind the rock. A deafening series of dual explosions cascaded along the wall of the ravine while it rained pellets, sand and rock. The sheep screamed and began running in earnest panic along with pained howls and yowls of the false wolves. Once, twice, thrice this happened, the cacophony lasting for what felt like minutes, though was likely less than half of one. Then, the explosions stopped and all she heard was the buzzing in her own ear. Five seconds passed in near-silence before being broken by the return of the soft cries in the distance from running sheep, the skinner-wolves unheard. Before long a few cracks of gunfire sounded from up the hill and a skinner-wolf howled in pain. Sally took that as her que. She poked her head up steadied her rifle on the rock, making a quick survey of the field. A series of six small holes in the dry river bed was dotted with five forms of dead sheep and seven dead skinner-wolves. An eighth was wriggling on the ground in its dying throes. Five more remained upright, some on two legs while others remained on all fours, and were hunched up and looking around disoriented by the loud noises and dying pack members. Sally took aim with an anticipatory ¨C predatory ¨C grin, ready to vent her irritation of the past four days. She targeted the chest of one of them, fired and scored a hit. She pushed the lever of her rifle, chambering another round while two other cracks sounded, one from her left and another from above. Both hit the same target and was enough to put it down, joining the other eight. Only four more to go, and with more than enough ammo between them, what once looked overwhelming was quickly turning into an easy butchering. I should thank Tarak for this. Without his grenades this wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve turned into target practice. But, as if hearing her thoughts, a yell came from above. ¡°Behind!¡± Tarak warned. In one fluid motion she went from a crouch to facing the new threat, rifle at the ready. Erlings. I fucking knew it. She hated being right sometimes. They were between three to four feet in height, covered in fur colored anywhere from bright reds to dull browns and their foxlike heads ended in a pointed snout. About twenty of the creatures were sneaking up from behind, roughly fifty feet away, having probably hidden behind another hill further up the arroyo. Clad in simple belted tunics reaching barely past their hips, they were armed with metal knives and spears of mostly simple make, though a few were clearly loot from previous raids. This wasn¡¯t just an advance scout, it was a full raiding party. If there was time she would¡¯ve spat on the ground and curse at them, and then herself. It didn¡¯t make sense they were here, not with the discovery of the skinner-wolves. Did they plan the ambush around them? She knew Erlings were smart, but not like this. The creatures, realizing the jig was up, began their charge. Their lips curled and mouths full of overly large and sharp interlocking teeth emerged, a predatory grin. Yips and snarls were added to the battlefield chorus of growls, bleats and rifle fire. Sally scowled and fired her second round, quickly pushed the lever, shifted aim and fired a third. Both shots hit, though only one of the Erlings fell. The other only briefly stumbling before running on. She heard five more shots, but only three more fell. At least sixteen others were still rushing them, distance shrinking fast. The fifty feet gap had shrunk to less than thirty. Soon they¡¯d be on them and their numbers would see them dead right quick. This day¡¯s quickly gone to hell, but perhaps she could turn it around. With Tarak¡¯s gift, she could- ¡°Duck!¡± Sally only saw a glimpse of the thing, a precious second wasted trying to comprehend what was happening. Niall had been quicker on the uptake, having grabbed his grenade after firing only a single shot. Nerves and neurons firing on all cylinders, Sally did a mad flip over her new favorite rock and landed painfully on her back behind it, pebbles and rocks digging sharply into her spine. An explosion quickly followed and the familiar rain of sand, rock and pellets descended amongst the yelps of foxes. Behind her, she heard the shrapnel digging into the rock. Good rock, she thought, taking quick breaths at the close call, the best. She sat up and before her mind could digest what she saw, instinct took over. Pushing the lever, chambering the round, Sally fired once more, her fourth. The bullet slammed into the head of a charging skinner-wolf. Its body slid the remaining few feet between them, coming to a stop at her outstretched legs. They were still here?! She¡¯d hoped Marcy and Tarak had taken care of them, or that they¡¯d run off like the cowards Marcy professed them to be. She had a sinking feeling as the thought passed through her had. How many shots had she heard? How many skinner-wolves were left? How many Erlings? What happened to the other Wardens? Why didn¡¯t she hear any more shots? Were they still fighting? Were they even still alive? Dread turned to panic, threatening to overtake her, her breaths becoming shallow and quick. She¡¯d been a junior Warden for five years and had trained to become one for three more. Since age thirteen she¡¯d hunted and killed many things, from mountain lions to corrupted alligators and devil-eels from the poisoned rivers, to skinners and all their variants, like skinner-snakes and harpies. Bandits and batkings, sheepstealers and shykes and all manner of demon inhabiting the Circuits, be they human or beast, she¡¯d hunted and killed. Yet she always had the upper hand, always a sense of what was going on and even at her most daring, Niall was there, a safety net ready to catch her when she slipped. And she¡¯d slipped numerous times, each adding a number of scars on her chest, legs, sides and one even biting off a piece of her left ear. But not here. She had no information, no knowledge of how many remained or where they were. No Niall nor either of the other Wardens. She might well be alone for this, the burden of responsibility solely on her. Perhaps this was her trial by fire, the culmination of all that effort. Survive this and she might confidently state she was a full Warden, ready to protect her community. Her final exam. I can do this, she told herself. This is what I trained for, what I was made for. The thought was calming enough, and a sense of self returned. I am where I¡¯m meant to be. She pushed herself up on her feet only to be presented with another crisis. An Erling war cry came from behind. She turned around to see one of the creatures leap from her rock with knife in hand. Her newfound calm remained and she hit him with the butt of her rifle. The Erling cried and dropped to the ground. A quick push of the lever chambered her final round. Another Erling had rushed her, this time from the right ¨C where Niall should¡¯ve been, something whispered ¨C with a spear in hand. She took aim and shot, but the Erling timed its dodge and she missed. Without lingering on it she let the rifle drop and drew her pistol, switched off safety and put two rounds in its chest. She turned around, instinct guiding her and was faced with a bipedal skinner-wolf rushing toward her, right arm mid swing and knife-like claw heading toward her head. She leaned into the attack with her shoulder. Although she didn¡¯t have to mass to throw off her attacker, it interrupted the swing and surprised the beast enough to send both of them tumbling to the ground, it on top of her. Before it could recover and take a bite Sally dumped the rest of her rounds into the beast¡¯s chest, the gun slipping from her blood-soaked hands. An Erling spear came from an oblique angle and she shifted accordingly. Rather than pierce the center of her chest and into her left lung, it hit her right ribs protected by her leather jacket, glancing off and hitting the ground. Ignoring the blossoming pain, she grabbed the spear¡¯s haft and leveraged it to slide out partway from under the body of the skinner-wolf. The Erling growled and yanked the spear in an attempt to get it back. She allowed it for a fraction of a second, causing the Erling to stumble back out of balance before she yanked it, making the creature fall toward her. She let go of the spear and grappled the Erling, succeeding in putting her right arm around its throat and turning on her side, positioning the thing in front of her body. Other Erlings had begun to surround her, though with a dead skinner-wolf covering the lower half of her body and the thrashing Erling covering the rest, they seemed unsure of what to do. Still, it was but a matter of time. The thrashing of the Erling became wilder and began tearing into her arm with its nails. Her position didn¡¯t allow her to get a good enough grip to reliably hold it. Sooner or later she¡¯d be forced let it go. Not that it mattered, its comrades would begin stabbing soon. She was already dead, she realized. She had heard no other gunshots since Niall threw his grenade and Erlings had approached her from both sides of the gully. There was no rescue forthcoming. Still, she had one last play to make. With her left arm, pinned half underneath her own body, she reached for Harak¡¯s grenade on her belt and pulled whatever it was that passed for a pin. With a final heave and grunt and cry of pain ¨C the spear had hurt her more than she realized, apparently ¨C she twisted her body to the right, squishing the thrashing Erling in her hold. Grenade in hand, she thrust her left arm upward to the sky, a vindictive smile as three spear-bearing Erlings jabbed their spears into her. A final explosion and a brief searing pain passing from hand to body to head was the last thing she remembered. Until she snorted a nose-full of water. 2. Villa Guha Grenade in hand, she thrust her left arm upward to the sky, a vindictive smile as three spear-bearing Erlings jabbed their spears into her. A final explosion and a brief searing pain passing from hand to body to head was the last thing she remembered. Until she snorted a nose-full of water. 2. Villa Guha - ??, Year 216 The sharp pain woke Sally up faster than the ice-cold temperature of the water itself did. She tried pushing herself up to hands and knees in order to catch some air, but barely got an inch before losing her balance and falling on her left side. Instead, she turned it into a clumsy roll and situated herself on her back. Thankfully, the water was shallow enough that this was enough for her head to be above the water. After taking some greedy gulps of air, coughing all the while, she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The overly bright sun seared straight through her eyes and into her head, activating the pounding headache that had been lurking unnoticed. Her whole body was both aching like a torn muscle and completely numb, her lungs were burning like she¡¯d inhaled smoke and her head was throbbing like it was ready to leak out of her ears. She felt like she was dying, which she might well be, and her body began to quickly give way to a deep lethargy. Unable to hold them open, she closed her eyes and instead focused on not falling asleep. For a couple of seconds ¨C or minutes, or hours even for all she cared ¨C Sally remained on her back, her breathing calming and deepening with each breath. Death seemed not yet ready to claim her, and the lure of the deep sleep lessened by every moment that passed. Both the ache and numbness subsided and she felt the cold water glide past her body, hearing it flow by her ear. With her focus returning, she attempted to figure out what was going on. Replaying the memory of their doomed hunt didn¡¯t help. The last thing she remembered ¨C the grenade ¨C should¡¯ve killed her one way or another, either through sheer force or by shrapnel. Even if that hadn¡¯t done her in, she blacked out after being stabbed any number of times by the Erlings. She should have bled out before even the idea of rescue could have materialized, let alone arrived. And she clearly hadn¡¯t been rescued, or she wouldn¡¯t be lying in a river ¨C which made even less sense. How would she end up in a river? The arroyo had been dry and the closest ever-flowing river was at least two miles away. Furthermore, these were poisonous and who would bother dragging a still-living body that far just in order to get rid of them? Every thought brought only more questions and no answers. So, better stop thinking and start planning. The Guha Villa was nearest, roughly seven miles from the gully ¨C if that was indeed where she was. If any of the others survived that was where they would go, and at the very least she should inform the Villa about what happened while trying to figure things out. Plan now set, she should really try and get out of the river. Despite the water¡¯s cold temperature, she felt rather comfortable, but she shouldn¡¯t trust her body right now. Her headache was all but gone, her breathing was steadier and the lethargy was replaced with energy, but her memory said this should not be. So, better to get out while she still could. She sat up, experienced a brief bout of vertigo before wiping the water from her face with her left- She didn¡¯t have a left arm. Sally stilled in confusion before turning to look at her left shoulder. There was nothing there, not even a mangled stump as there should¡¯ve been after having a grenade explode in her hand. It was as if someone had cleanly detached the arm from its socket, shoulder blade and collar bone unharmed. Well, at least it is healed, somehow, she thought. For a moment, she thought about what it meant to lose her left arm. Rapid fire images shot through her mind about things she couldn¡¯t do anymore, things that would be substantially more difficult, before deciding to ignore all of it. She didn¡¯t have time for this. She¡¯d see things as they come. Sally wiped the water off of her face with her right arm and stood up. A quick check revealed that her clothes were in tatters. Her jacket was practically gone, its remains barely clinging to her right shoulder and extending over only half her ribs, leaving her arms bare. Her shirt was better, covering her whole body and right arm, though it was riddled with holes from Erling spears and grenade shrapnel. Her belt was still attached, thankfully, and though her gun holster was regrettably empty, her knife was still there. Her pants and shoes were best off of the bunch, presumably because the body of the skinner-wolf protected it. Another thing that was curiously missing: the bodies. She did a quick look around and found that, indeed, she was still in the same ravine as yesterday ¨C favorite rock and all ¨C but no sign of the battle remained. No bodies, no pits from the grenades or red patches of blood. Nothing remained, as if washed away with the arrival of the miracle water. Her unease kept growing. Thankfully, aside from the arm, the rest of her body looked and felt fine. There were no wounds, nor cuts, and not even blood stained her anymore. She felt remarkably good all things considered. ¡°Miracle water indeed,¡± her voice sounded hoarse and was barely above a whisper. Then why couldn¡¯t it heal her arm? She ignored the bitter thought. Gift horses and all that. She bent and spooned some water into her mouth. It was fresh and cold, rejuvenating to her parched throat. Tastes like spring, she thought, not liking the implication. She kept drinking. Before long, she was sated and looked southward. Seven miles, she thought, three hours, give or take. She looked toward the sun, high in the sky though not directly above. Should arrive before dusk. Without any baggage to worry about, she set off. In three hours, she would know more. X Sally crested another hill, one of dozens along the way, though this one would be the last for now. The sun hung lower than it had before, though higher than she expected. The orange glow and long shadows of a setting sun were yet to come. Despite the rough terrain, her pace had apparently been great despite her dark mood. During the journey, questions had kept plaguing her, and while she remained firm in her refusal to let them consume her, it had certainly worn her down. She felt like she walked on the thinnest of ropes, held together by only a few threads that were rapidly fraying. If the questions kept haunting her, she¡¯d collapse sooner rather than later. Though the answers might be worse, she thought. But the answers would come, and soon at that. In front of her, within shooting distance was the Villa Guha. Its cube-like grey stone structure should be a sight for sore eyes to all living in the Villas, and its tower jutting from the top a welcoming beacon. It, along with the extensive works underground, had housed the Guha family for generations, ever since the Days of the Long Sun. All thirteen Villas had this same structure, the same layout, making it easy for everyone to feel at home even in whilst a guest with different families. No such feeling came to Sally, unfortunately. Because ¨C of course ¨C something was wrong. The tower was more of a nub and she could see a quarter of the structure had completely collapsed in on itself. Furthermore, surrounding the Villa itself were a large number of tents which, in turn, were further surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Two more small wooden towers served as an entrance to the newly constructed base. Within its confines were men in dressed in appropriately brown-colored army fatigues. They were marching, training, maintaining arms and armor, cleaning or shoveling dirt, or watching others perform these things. It was a bustle of activity normally unseen outside the Villa itself. Further out from the base, farmers in clothing very different from the usual Villayet wear were tending fields that weren¡¯t theirs, herding sheep and goats that might be theirs and driving cattle that were definitively theirs, though equally unwelcome. These were Grandies, people from the Grand Central Union, the large state west of the Circuits. Relations with them were usually good, at least relative to other communities outside the Circuits. Their caravans, entering from Gadeon and travelling the Gold Circuit before reaching the Villas, brought them much needed supplies in greater abundance than the Anteer cities around Lake Prior to the south and east. And usually at a lower cost, too, for the western Villas at least.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. But relations were certainly not good enough for an army to host itself in front of a Villa, let alone allow them to use precious farm- and grazeland so freely. That the Villa was ruined implied the worst. She felt anger, sadness and confusion at the sight. She¡¯d been here recently, it couldn¡¯t have changed this quickly. Another layer of dread was added to the pile, her tightrope a degree narrower. Sally marched up toward the entrance. The guards at the entrance and up the towers spotted her with ease, but made no moves yet. They become more wary as she approached, perhaps suspicious because of her shabby outfit, and one of the ones up in the tower drew a bead on her with his modern-looking automatic rifle. ¡°Halt,¡± one of the two guards, a woman, at the entrance commanded Sally. The other flicked the safety off of his rifle, though did not raise it. ¡°This is military property. State your name and purpose for visiting.¡± ¡°And who are you to ask that?¡± she replied, unwilling to keep the indignation out of her voice. ¡°Where are the Guhas?¡± The two guards shared a brief look, the man raising an eyebrow. ¡°Once again, state your name and reason for visiting Station Guha.¡± The woman said, a bit harsher though also somewhat confused, putting an emphasis on the final two words. The guard in the second tower also began aiming at her. Sally doubted the name Guha would remain if they had conquered the Villa. They would probably name it Fort Victory, or something, she thought, though the humor fell flat even to her. Still, she decided to remain diplomatic. ¡°Sarah Olivia Palters, junior Warden of the Villa Palter,¡± she stated. ¡°Me, my mentor Niall, and Tarak and Marcella Guha ¨C you know, this Villa¡¯s Wardens¡± she couldn¡¯t help but add acidly ¡°were performing an investigation into a missing Guha farmer. Now, shit¡¯s gone to shit and I would like to at least inform their family of their loss.¡± Anger was getting the best of her. So much for diplomacy, she thought. I should be better than this. But her control was shot. ¡°Now, what is your reason for barring my entry?!¡± She all but spat at them. There was a long moment of silence, neither side really knowing how to continue. Meanwhile, they¡¯d begun attracting attention. Men and women had left their duties and were watching her from behind the barbwire fence, murmuring and pointing at her. She felt herself begin to shake and flush red from the anger, the anxiety, the shame at the loss of control, the weight of the stares and the ever-mounting feeling of terror. Thankfully, before she could either curl into a ball or begin yelling again, a voice came from the back. ¡°Now, what is going on over here,¡± a man, small in stature but apparently large in rank, said as he moved through the crowd. His voice was smooth and calm, but authoritative all the same. Sophisticated, maybe. It was at least very unlike the regular tones of Circuit dwellers. He looked at the crowd, before focusing briefly focusing on Sally, then shifting to the gate guard. ¡°And who is she?¡± ¡°A ¡®Sarah Olivia Palters¡¯, sir. Supposedly the junior Warden of Villa Palters,¡± the female guard replied, skepticism clear in her voice. Sally scoffed in indignation, ready to tear into them again. ¡°Hmm,¡± the officer scratched his chin, ¡°badge number?¡± The comment caught Sally off-guard. Ironically, the non-sequitur snapped her out of her spiraling, and calmed down. Still confused, but calm ¡°What?¡± She replied. ¡°Your badge number, your identification as a Warden,¡± the man answered. ¡°We don¡¯t have those. We are known to the community,¡± she stated in a somewhat bewildered tone. She had no idea where he was going with this. The man gave her a nod and turned back to the female guard. ¡°Grab Ensign Zjevik-Ong, would you.¡± The woman gave him a salute, before marching off. Sally blinked at the name. The Zjevik-Ong were the third family occupying the western part of Villa territory. It was not exactly rare for a member of the Villas to leave and do their own thing ¨C she considered doing much the same when she was younger ¨C and not strange for some to end up joining the army of the Grandies. She doubted that even after they left, a member of the Villas would join in warring against their former community, nor be stationed in their ruins there after a hostile takeover. They waited in silence, not exactly tense but neither engaging to talk, before the female guard returned with a man in tow. ¡°Yes, Major?¡± The man said with a salute. ¡°Ensign, do you recognize this woman? Or the name Sarah Palters?¡± Sally doubted he would. While the man wasn¡¯t old, he wasn¡¯t young either, early thirties she guessed despite his somewhat pretty-boy look. She¡¯s only been a junior Warden for five years and doubted he had been with there when she was announced, let alone later during the times when she visited their Villa in the course of her duties. Thus, it came a surprise that the man did, in fact, recognize her. By name at least. ¡°Yessir, I¡¯ve heard the name. Came up during the defense in talks with the other Wardens. She and the other Guha and Palters Wardens had supposedly disappeared sometime before the Erlings descended. To investigate disappearance of a farmer and some herd.¡± Disappeared sometime before, she noted. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. ¡°That¡¯s consistent with what she told me, sir¡±, the female guard jumped in. The guard¡¯s gaze then shifted to Sally, a look of pity in her eyes. ¡°More or less,¡± she finished quietly. Sally liked that even less. ¡°Very well. Warden Palters, if you¡¯d please follow me to the command tent. Ensign, tag along.¡± He turned to face the crowd. ¡°The rest of you, return to your duties,¡± he commanded with a raised voice before walking away. The crowd complied with a mumbled chorus of yessirs. Sally began to follow, the ensign walking beside her. ¡°It¡¯s good to hear someone survived, you know?¡± The man began with a smile. ¡°We feared that-¡± ¡°Wait until we¡¯re in the tent, Makilas,¡± the major interrupted. The ensign looked oddly sheepish, tugging at his curly hair before giving her an apologetic look. The signs were painting a very bad picture indeed. It wasn¡¯t long before they arrived at the center of the camp, an unlit firepit surrounded by seven large tents, three to either side and one in front of them. The command center, no doubt. They entered the one in the center, the ensign holding the entrance flap open for her. Inside was a small office complete with chair and desk front and center, with a number of racks with shelves occupied by miscellaneous equipment to her left and a duo filing cabinets to her right. ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± the major said, gesturing toward the chair in front of the desk while he went to the filing cabinets. The ensign went to stand in front of the equipment racks instead of seating himself beside her. Sally didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Why all this¡­ secrecy?¡± She asked, frustrated and suspicious. ¡°Not secrecy, Sarah,¡± the ensign replied, ¡°Empathy.¡± She looked at them and was, again, met with a pitying gaze. It seems everyone knows but me, the bitter thought rang. ¡°Indeed, Warden, the privacy is not for us.¡± The major finished fishing in the cabinets and pulled out a file from the bottom drawer before moving toward the chair behind the desk. They were apparently well-organized. She hesitated for moment before moving the chair in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s Sally, by the way,¡± she said. ¡°Not Sarah.¡± She received a nod from both men as she sat down on the chair. ¡°You may refer to me as Charles, and that is Makilas, as you probably heard earlier. Or Major Frelik and Ensign Zjevik-Ong, if you prefer the formalities.¡± She wasn¡¯t in the mood for anything. The major opened the file and asked: ¡°It states here that you and your group went on an expedition, starting on January six and were last seen on the ninth, correct?¡± She nodded, though found the word ¡®expedition¡¯ a bit too grand. ¡°And is that Friday the last day you remembered?¡± She nodded again, bracing for the news. ¡°Today is July seventeen.¡± July seventeen, the word echoed in her mind. She¡¯d been gone for over six months. Her first instinct was to deny it. She knew by now that she¡¯d been gone for longer than a day, but six months? That was beyond insane, it was simply impossible. If it were true, she would have been beyond deader than dead. Even her bones would have been eaten by some beast and that beast would have likely been eaten in turn by that time. She wouldn¡¯t be here, couldn¡¯t be here if six months had passed. But even it was just a day, let alone a whole week ¨C the maximum she could imagine being realistic ¨C she should not be alive, and the longer timeline fit her other observations better. The warmth, the spring¨C or rather, summer meltwater in the arroyo, the brightness of the sun, its position relative to the time of day. The fact that the Grandies had finished setting up shop in the Guha¡¯s home and had filled up at least one whole filing cabinet already¡­ Her vision began to darken at the edges and she felt a mug being pushed into her hand. She took a sip of the water. It steadied her somewhat. ¡°Sally,¡± Charles said. She didn¡¯t look up at him. ¡°Can you tell me what happened?¡± Thankful for the distraction, she began telling them of their days searching, their plans for baiting their prey and the discovery of the skinner-wolves. She explained the revised plan and how their ambush, in turn, counter-ambushed by the Erlings. She told them of her final act ¨C the one she¡¯d presumably lost an arm for ¨C and her blacking out before waking up, apparently, six months later. They¡¯d remained quiet as she told her story, the water and retelling helping her come over the shock. ¡°The mysteries of the new world are boundless and unpredictable,¡± the major mumbled once she finished. It sounded almost religious the way he said it, but when she looked up he looked at her only with compassion. Before a dark look took over his features. ¡°Unfortunately, your encounter was not the result of circumstance. Somehow, the Erlings, led by some form of shaman-figure, had managed to either tame or create packs of skinner-wolves. A couple weeks after your encounter, they went down the mountains not to raid, but to migrate.¡± Photographs, the first time she¡¯d seen such things, were picked from the file and shoved toward her side of the table. They depicted familiar bodies of skinner-wolves and Erlings side by side. ¡°They struck hard and fast, and with the element of surprise at their side. The Wardens had only just begun to set up defenses, but were not prepared for the scale of the incursion. By the time they figured out what was going on, the Erlings had already penetrated deep, deep toward the south, up to and including parts of the Gold and Red Circuits.¡± More pictures, this time of dead horses and people along with wrecked carts. Trading caravans, most likely. ¡°It eventually took the combined forces of the Wardens, the city of Gadeon, a number of the Anteer cities and a detachment of our own Frontiersmen to halt their advance. Thankfully, after the Wardens managed to track down and kill their shaman, they splintered and we managed to drive them back completely. But not immediately, and not without cost.¡± New photographs, depicting familiar buildings in familiar places. ¡°Now, being the most northwestern Villa and the first to be struck, Villa Guha was quickly overwhelmed. The Wardens attempted to halt the tide at the Villa Palters, but as they were the next to be struck they did not yet know the full scope of the problem.¡± Her home, in ruins. Destroyed by a threat she¡¯d been investigating. A threat she¡¯d faced on the field, hoped to face, even, these Erlings. She had teased her mentor with it, spooked Tarak with it, and she had gotten her wish. They should¡¯ve listened to Niall when he told them to retreat, to create a better plan, to ask for reinforcements from the Zjevik-Ong Wardens, to create a fallback plan. But they hadn¡¯t, because she spooked Tarak into bringing his homemade explosives, which convinced Marcy to go ahead. They were just skinner-wolves after all, right? A rare and dangerous threat, but manageable. They¡¯d lost not only the battle ¨C something to be expected considering what she now knew ¨C but had failed to survive, failed to deliver a warning. When she had gained the inkling she might be the last alive, instead of trying her hardest to run away, she¡¯d doubled down in pride and lust for battle and revenge. But the major wasn¡¯t done yet. ¡°Now, we¡¯ve searched both Villas, every corner, every closet, behind every door and under every bed from tower to basement,¡± Charles said. Sally raised her head and looked into his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sally. We¡¯ve found no survivors.¡± She¡¯d failed her community, her parents, her siblings, all those baring the name Palters and beyond. And now they¡¯re all dead. That was the final straw. X ¡°What¡¯ll you do now?¡± Makilas asked. ¡°Return to your Villa?¡± It had been a few days since Sally broke down into an embarrassing blubbery, teary mess. The now-dubbed Station Guha had been a kind host, more than kind. Beyond food, water and shelter, they¡¯d given her clothes ¨C the legacy of the Guha, she winced at the unfair thought. There would be more to their legacy than the clothes on her back. They¡¯d even gone ahead and given her a pistol similar to her previous one, equally capable of firing .45, along with a good amount of spare ammo. Apparently, it was not standard for most of their firearms and was instead used for visiting Wardens needing resupply. Which was what they saw her as, she supposed, although in her heart couldn¡¯t agree. ¡°No,¡± she replied, a bit tersely. He didn¡¯t deserve it, he¡¯d been nothing but kind, but he kept trying to convince her to return to that ruin. To mourn or get some sort of closure, he¡¯d said. But she won¡¯t, she couldn¡¯t handle it. Not yet. ¡°Will you return to the Wardens? I could probably guide you to the Zjevik-Ong at least. Maybe even further if I convince Charles, make it sound like some kinda relationship-building thing with the Villas and Wardens.¡± He offered. It was kind of him. It was clear he was worried to let her go alone, but that was exactly what she wished to be. ¡°I have a brother in the Arcanist guild in one of the Anteer cities,¡± she said, though she couldn¡¯t recall which. She finished packing her stuff and slung the bag across from left hip to right shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll try to find him, I suppose. Let him know that there is another Palters.¡± She walked out the front gate, the same guards that greeted her three days prior giving her a solemn nod. ¡°Do come back sometime, alright? I¡¯ve yet to show you all the things we¡¯ve done around here. The defenses we built, the plans we made for the region.¡± Sally turned back one final time. Makilas was looking at her with concern. She deliberated for a second, looking skyward and scratching her throat. ¡°Maybe,¡± she replied, unsure of anything right now. The past days had been tough, and despite the kindness she was shown, this place would likely turn into a bad memory before long. She could only hope it wouldn¡¯t remain that way.