A/N: Hello! I am sorry for the wait, but expect similar ones. I feel guilty, but I am a huge procrastinator. About the only consolation you may have is that this is my favourite book at the moment, so it will be finished—eventually—and that there are sequels to it. Enjoy. Feedback is welcome, esp. criticism.

Chapter Two

They stood there for one last brief moment of peace, then Xate shook his head slightly. “We must wake her up…send her to hide. It is her only chance.”

“I know,” Dlami told her pledged softly. “But…is there really a chance for her?”

Xate looked at her, his eyes bleak. “Very little. It is highly likely that she will be discovered and killed…you may thank the gods that she is too young to be violated. That even such demons as the Red Wolves do not allow creatures like that amongst them.” Everyone on the planet knew instinctively that to rape a child, beloved of ALL gods, no matter what, was wrong. There was no possible redemption for a man that tortured a child. So the Red Wolves—who did not like to leave anyone alive after they took a village—killed children quickly, without torture.

He stepped up to Srae’s bed. “Srae, honey, wake up,” he said softly, but forcefully. “Wake up.”

Srae woke up quickly, with none of the grogginess that one would expect from a small child. Even if she was just in her fifth year, Xate and Dlami had begun training her to follow in their footsteps—and little woke a small child up so quickly as a bucket of ice water. She quickly learned to wake up when they told her to.

“Momi? Popa? What’s wrong?” Srae knew that there had to be a reason they woke her up so early—and by the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a good one.

“Annibali is under attack, Srae. We need you to hide, so they won’t find you. Come on,” and Xate held out his arms. She climbed up into his arms and hugged him. He hugged her back, quickly, tightly. She was his beloved daughter, and he would do anything to protect her, as would Dlami. They would die to protect her—and tonight, they would.

“Are they going to kill us?” Srae asked him solemnly, eyes unblinking. Few things are as direct as a small child.

“I hope not, sweetie, but you have to hide. You have to hide somewhere that no one will find you. Don’t let anyone see you, and don’t come out, no matter what.” Srae nodded acceptance. Xate handed her to Dlami, after one final, tight squeeze, and spun around at the sound of a scream, sounding extremely close. He hugged Dlami tightly then ran off to try to help. He was attacked barely two steps out of the front door.

Dlami hugged Srae just as tightly as Xate had. “I love you, my beloved daughter. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you if I could. Your father and I love you very very much, and we are going to do our best to see that you survive. Now go hide, darling. Don’t let anyone find you.” Dlami hugged her as tightly as she could, then set her down and whirled away, tears falling from her eyes. She ran out to help her husband, viciously wiping the tears from her face. They would impair her vision and lessen her chances of being able to fight and keep her daughter alive.

Srae, left rather abruptly alone, sniffled slightly, and began wandering, looking for a hiding place. She knew that her room would not do, so she left and went into the living room. No-where to hide there either. She went into the kitchen.

There were a few cabinets, but too full of things for her to hide in. There was a pantry, but it didn’t have a door. There was a large barrel marked APPLES that she knew was mostly empty, having been forced to help can them. Finally, there was a small cold closet, but it had things in it as well, and she didn’t know it she could fit, or open the door from the inside.

Srae walked over to the barrel, only slightly shorter than she was. Uzume the farmer had paid Dlami and Xate his farm debt with it. She heaved the heavy top off of the barrel and peered in. It was maybe a fourth full of apples. She stood next to the wall and barrel and used it as a climbing ladder to help her into the barrel, remembering to drag the lid with her. She managed to get the lid wedged tightly on, and curled in a little ball at the bottom of the barrel. There was a very small knothole, but since it was very dark in the kitchen without a light, she couldn’t see anything. She could, however, hear the screams of battle coming from outside.

H’Shi woke up with a start at the sound of the door to her house creaking open. It needed to be oiled, but she had suspected that Iana was sneaking out, and so she left the door unoiled to wake her when it was opened. She stood up and grabbed her staff. It had been used as merely a walking stick for many years now, but she was still able to use it, and she would whap Iana upside the head for sneaking out.

She crept quietly into the main room of the house, and saw a man. Despite the fact it was dark, she had had a spell put on her eyes to allow her to see in the dark. It had made her a valuable spy when she was a Hiresword, and it served her well now. She walked noiselessly over to him, and brought the staff down on his head with a sharp CRACK! The man let out a queer gasping sound and fell to the floor. She bent down and looked at him, felt for a pulse. She had broken his neck with the angle of the blow. Good. Now that she was awake, she heard slight sounds of battle coming from outside, as if they were coming from the other end of the village.

Her eyes narrowed, and she inspected the man closely, searching his clothes for some sign of insignia to tell her what he was from. She found it—a small wolf, in red fur, stitched to his tunic. He was a Red Wolf. She walked into Iana’s room, lit a candle, and snapped at her, “Wake up, Iana! You have to take Sime and run.” She was busy getting a couple of things for Sime—a new cloth for when this one was soiled, a small thing of food—and tucked it into his blankets. Iana rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“Why, mother? What happened?” she asked, confused.

“The Red Wolves are here.”

Iana paled in fear. “Yes ma’am. But what about you? What will you do?” Iana stood up and pulled on a pair of breeches that she kept for working in the garden, and a short tunic. She could run best in these.

H’Shi stood and kissed Sime, still asleep, and hugged her daughter. “I will die here and try to keep them from coming after you. Run fast, Iana, because if they catch you—“

Iana paled again. She had always loved her looks, but now she cursed them. If they caught her, they wouldn’t just kill her. They would have a little “fun” with her first. They might even take her as a slave. She picked up Sime and tied him in a sling, knowing that she could not carry him and run. She looked at H’Shi. “I love you, mother. I’m sorry for—“

H’Shi smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. Just run. Go out the back and across the fields. Maybe they won’t see you.” Iana nodded and went out, crying soundlessly.

H’Shi sighed and turned, walking outside. She wasn’t nearly as good as she used to be, but hopefully she could force them to kill her and not do anything else. Hopefully, Iana and Sime would escape. All she had was hope. She noticed Xate and Dlami fighting outside their house, and went to help them.

Iana panted, trying to keep quiet, but needing air. She had made it out of the house and into the first field undiscovered, but she had heard some men in the field—probably more Red Wolves, trying to make sure no one got away. She was just thankful Sime hadn’t woken up, but if he had, she had a sweetball that had sleepy mushroom in it to make him go back to sleep quickly. It was safe, and used for sick children.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she keep going, try to make it to the next village? She doubted that she could make it in any time to help, but she had to do something…. Besides, she had to make it somewhere safe. She nodded her head, decisively. That was what she would do. She would run to Litas and hope that somehow they could make it to Annibali in time to help.

Iana stood still for a moment, taking in another deep breath, before resumeing running again. She had to be careful, quiet…because if she was found out here, there was no way she could be saved.

And Sime would die. She couldn’t let that happen.

“H’Shi! No!” Dlami cried in shock, as she saw the kindly woman cut down in front of her, barely ten minutes after she joined the fight. There were seven of the Red Wolves, and only the three—the two of them now. And they were being pushed back into the house. She only hoped that Srae had found a hiding place, a good one…

Xate grunted as he blocked two swords, both striking at him with great force. He heaved and threw them back, and came in for a lightning fast strike, watching in satisfaction as one of the men dropped with never a sound as his throat was cut. He blocked again, an again, being forced back several steps, now just inside the door, Dlami behind him. He knew they were losing, but he refused to quit, to give up, to just die. He felt the distant pain hitting him every time one of his villagers died. He ignored it, blocked, stuck and missed, blocked, was forced back again. Now he was entirely in the house and the enemy could come in. They did, six of them, not really excellent swordsmen, but when they are so many, they didn’t really have to be—just careful, and persistent. Which they were.

Xate let out a gasp as he failed to completely block, and one sword slipped past his guard and nicked his collarbone. If that had been just a bit higher…. He blocked, parried and was blocked, blocked and struck! He successfully hit another man, sliced his wrist, not deep enough to kill immediately, but he would die within a matter of minutes. He couldn’t fight anymore, that was certain. Xate ignored the man and struck at another—then gasped as a cold thing struck his back, slid between ribs and past his spine, and straight into his heart. He had been wrong, and the man took him with him when he died—leaving Dlami against five men. “Sorry.. shouldn’t have.. turned my back,” he gasped out—and died.

Dlami’s eyes filled with tears of sadness and rage, and she pressed against the men in a whirlwind of fury they had not expected. She managed to kill two of them, and was wounded—but she took no notice of it. She was completely berserk now, and would not stop until they were all dead—or she was.

She could not manage to do anything but block, now that her initial burst of energy was through, and they pushed her back, into the living room. The fire had long since died, and they fought in the dim light of its coals. She could feel that she was about to fail, and let out a scream of rage, like a cornered lioness, and rushed them again, managed to kill another, but was hit in the right arm—thankfully not her sword arm—and lost strength in it.

Srae shrank against the walls of the barrel, hearing a scream coming from very close—it sounded like it was inside the house. She was very quiet, barely breathing.

The two remaining men, sensing that the end for Dlami was near, grinned starkly and circled her like sharks. She watched them warily, trying to sense their weaknesses… but it had been so long… One of them charged her, and she blocked him, keeping aware of the other man—then whirling and blocking him, once more being sliced on her right arm. She was losing a great deal of blood now, and seeing small grey spots before her eyes. She spun again, taking her predators by surprise, and slashed the man in front of her in a daring move that left her open, but allowed her to kill him. The man behind her came in for a strike, but Dlami somehow managed to turn just in time, bringing up her right arm and catching his sword on it. “NO! I-will-not-DIE!” she yelled.

Srae, hearing her mother, whimpered very softly, and curled up into a very small ball, fingers pushed into her ears.

The man laughed coldly. “You will die, bitch. You are about to just die from blood loss, forget me killing you. But I will. Don’t worry. You’ll join your pledged soon enough.”

Dlami gritted her teeth and forced herself completely upright, holding her sword. She looked at it, covered in the blood of her enemies, then at him. She grinned, a tired, frustrated grin, then lunged. He brought his sword up reflexively, and watched in astonishment as it went straight through her—she had left herself wide open. Then he felt her blade—warm with the fight and the blood of his fellows—slide across his neck, sending his head across the room. In the last couple of seconds left to it before it lost all life, it heard her say, “Maybe so, bastard, but you’re dying too.”

Dlami staggered back, the sword of her enemy stabbed straight through her. She slipped and fell into a chair—one of her new ones, she noticed with rapidly fading amusement. She took one last breath, and died, having done her best to protect her daughter.

Srae remained curled up in a ball, her eyes locked on the seamless dark, waiting for a light to come in through the knothole. She heard men come in, walking through the house, taking things. One of them had even kicked the barrel in disgust when he discovered there was nothing of value in the kitchen. She had been so frightened she had almost scream, but she was so tense it came out as a tiny squeak, muffled by the barrel.

She had almost given up hope when she saw the warm orange yellow of flames… of flames?! She pushed against the barrel lid in a panic, gasping in fear when it wouldn’t move, then sobbing in relief as it finally gave way to her desperate pushing.

She climbed out of the barrel, knocking it over in her haste to get out, to escape from the house. It had been set on fire. She ran out of the kitchen and into the living room, coughing from the smoke, and hazily seeing her mother, sitting in a chair. “Momi? Momi, come on, there’s a fire! We have to go!” She walked over and tried to pull her mother up, and then she saw the sword sticking out of her. Srae let out a pitiful whimper, then hugged her mother tightly, one last time, her hair getting soaked in Dlami’s blood. She continued on her way to the door, then saw her father’s body on the ground. “Popa…” Srae started crying, huge, heaving sobs, all the more painful because they were soundless. She kneeled on the floor and hugged him too, getting more blood in her hair, on her clothes.

The fire spread more into the room, licking at the walls hungrily, catching the furniture, with its fresh varnish and reed padding, on fire. Srae felt the increased heat on her skin and stood up reluctantly and went out the door. She had been told to hide, but she couldn’t stay in the house anymore or she would be burned alive.

Srae stopped outside her house, amazed at the destruction of her village. All was lit by fire, for all the houses that could burn, were. There were dead bodies in the street, and a few shadowy figures all heading toward the east part of town, the opposite end of where her house was, arms full of a heavy load of plunder they had taken from houses. One looked back, and she shrank against the doorway, trying not to be seen. Her dark clothing helped her blend in with the smoke and doorway, and the man turned back around and continued on his way.

She crept down the steps and into the street, and walked a few steps before seeing the body of H’Shi. She knelt there by her body, then, at the sound of someone coming, threw herself down next to the body into the small pool of blood there, hoping to look dead.

Overwhelmed by the emotions and traumas of the night, Srae slowly, calmly, passed out, her body losing the tenseness it had held unconsciously against the fear of discovery, naturally becoming loose, like a newly dead body would. The man, who was making sure everyone was dead, walked past the two without a second glance, believing in the obvious wound in H’Shi and the blood liberally coating Srae as proof of their deaths. One was indeed dead, but the other would awaken in a few hours.

Iana had made it across four more fields, mostly of wheat, almost ripe in the late autumn. She was almost out of an apple orchard, owned by Uzume. The last of the apples were hanging from the trees, and mostly-filled barrels were there to catch them.

She was walking now, knowing that there was little danger of being caught now. Sime had woken up, but she popped the sweetball in his mouth and he fell into a deep sleep. He would sleep for at least seven candlemarks since he ate the sweetball.

She arrived by a barn that was between the orchard and a large, open pasture. There was a horse slowly ambling around the pasture, for whatever reason, not in the barn. She made a silent apology to Uzume for stealing his horse, but she would bring it back to him soon. Iana walked up slowly to the horse, clucking gently. She had always gotten along with animals, including horses, and she had ridden a little. The horse came up to her trustingly, and she spent a few minutes petting its muzzle gently and speaking to it in a soft voice, making friends with the horse. After she thought that enough time had passed, she led it by its halter over to the fence.

Iana left it there and went into the barn to get reins. She knew she couldn’t saddle a horse, so she didn’t try, but she had to have some way of controlling it, and she was pretty sure she could attach the reins to the halter.

She had a few problems, most arising from not knowing the reins were supposed to be attached to a bit, but she managed to tie them to the halter, and it would work well enough for the short journey to Litas from Uzume’s farm. Uzume’s farm was a quarter of the way there, and with the horse, the journey would be that much shorter, and she could send help back.

She managed to climb onto the horse’s back by using the fence as a step up. The horse was fairly old and patient, and stood still as Iana tried to get on its back. Once up, she kicked it gently and it walked to the gate, which she had unlatched to get into the pasture, and walked out. She turned it down the road, towards Litas. She would get help there.

Even if no one was left alive, they could take care of the dead. It was only proper, after all.

After a candlemark’s ride, the east growing perceptibly lighter, she finally rode into the outskirts of Litas hot, tired, uncomfortable, and unbearably sad. Litas had been further away than she had thought, and she knew she had not reached it in time. There was no way anyone would still be alive in Annibali now, but they had to go and take care of the dead. Weary, both in body and soul, with Sime, still deeply asleep from the sweetball, she rode up to what she knew was the mayor’s house and practically fell off of the horse. She went up and pounded on the door, and in a few minutes, a half-asleep bear of a man threw open the door, nearly smashing her with it, and bellowed, “What do you want, waking up decent people from their sleep at this hour?” then he looked at her a bit more closely, and stepped back from the door, gesturing for her to come in. “Good Gods, girl, what happened to you?”

Iana stepped in and sat in the chair next to the door. “Annibali was attacked by the Red Wolves. I managed to escape, with my brother, and we came here for help. I think it’s too late now, but…my friends, my mother…they are there, unburied. Can you please send some people there to take care of them? A proper burial? And find a place for us?” She had started holding Sime tighter and tighter while she spoke, and when she finished, she buried her face in the hair on top of his head. Her voice came out muffled. “We don’t have anyone, not now….”

The mayor was deeply shocked by her story, and felt very sorry for the girl. “Of course we will send people to take care of Annibali. But you, girl, you need to sleep. You are going into shock. What about the boy, why is he still asleep?”

She looked up, crying silently. The fact that virtually everyone that she knew, her mother, her friends, even the storeowners, everyone, was now dead, seemed to have just sunk in. “I…I gave him one of those sleep sweetballs that the healers make for sick children, so he would be quiet and sleep on the way here. He will sleep for at least another five candlemarks or so. But…I don’t think I can sleep.”

The man gently patted her on the back. “I know. I’ll give you a sleep potion, and take you to the guest room. You’ll sleep for about eight candlemarks, and then we’ll have a Healer here for you, alright? Come on now.” He led her to the kitchen and gave her a small bottle, and told her to drink the whole thing. She did so, and then he took her to the guest room, helped her take off the sling that Sime was in, and laid him beside her on the bed. “The potion will keep you from dreaming. Don’t fight it anymore, child, just sleep. You’ll feel a tiny bit better when you awaken.”

Iana nodded, and finally closed her eyes, sinking instantly into a deep, almost coma-like sleep. The mayor stood there for a second, watching the poor girl, then left to wake up his wife and the rest of the village.

The volunteers from Litas walked into the still smouldering ruins of Annibali about a candlemark after true dawn, whispering quietly among themselves, quietly—and ashamedly—grateful that it hadn’t happened to them. They slowly began bringing the dead to the former centre square, in front of what would have been the Meeting Hall.

They heard a distant scream and, fearful that perhaps they had stumbled on a remaining Red Wolf, ran, weapons drawn, to the scream.

Tirei, a young man who had just recently become a warrior, was walking down the roads of Annibali, pulling a large cart in which he was placing the dead bodies. He came upon the last couple houses on the road. In the road between them, there was a woman and a young child. Tirei gently picked up the woman and set her in the cart, then bent and picked up the child. Poor thing; she was still warm. He was just about to put her into the cart when her eyes blinked open and she looked him in the eyes. They stared at each other for a brief second, then they both screamed, each of their screams sounding loudly in the quiet ruins of Annibali.

Tirei dropped the child and jumped back, leaning on the cart, and Srae fell to the ground, managing to land on her feet. “Who-who’re y-you?” she asked fearfully. “Are you going to kill me?”

He looked at her in astonishment. “Why would I kill you?”

“B-because y-you ki-killed everybody e-else!” Srae gasped, out shaking with fear and sobs.

“Me?! I didn’t kill anyone! I’ve come from Litas to help take care of the bodies here after the Red Wolves attacked!” Tirei said in astonishment.

Srae calmed down slightly and looked at him a bit more closely. She was only five, but she was an intelligent child. He didn’t have the tuft of red fur that the Red Wolves supposedly always wore. Perhaps he was telling the truth. She stood up, still crying—after all, her parents had been killed, and regardless of how smart she was, that was not something that a little girl could get over in one night. She took his hand.

“My Momi and Popa died here…and so did H’Shi….Can we please leave?” She looked up at the young man pitifully.

Tirei’s heart melted with pity for this tiny girl. “Of course. Come on, let’s go,” and he picked her up and carried her back, meeting with the running warriors on the way. “She is Srae. Her mother and father were killed here. She needs to leave.” He handed her to one of the few women that had come along, but she squirmed to be put down.

“I wanna get something from my house….Please, can I?” Srae asked, looking up at the people pitifully. They could not resist her, and Matin, the mayor of Litas and the head of the people who came to Annibali to give the people a proper burial, nodded.

“Yes, of course you may. But please hurry, child, we need to get back to Litas.” Srae nodded and ran quickly back to her house. The mayor’s house had been made completely out of stone, excepting the thatched roof, to indicate the importance of the people living there. The people from Litas allowed her to go on her own, respecting her privacy and her sorrow.

She walked in and stopped by her father’s body. Srae picked up his sword, still coated with the drying (congealing?) blood of his enemies. She knew how much he had valued his sword, and he had always told her, ever since she was born, that eventually when she became a Hiresword, he would give it to her. She took it, and its hand-tooled sheath, and walked over to her mother, still sitting in the chair where she had fallen, pinned to the chair. She set down the sword and sheath, and knelt next to her mother’s body, crying silently. She had loved and adored her father, as most young children do, but she hadn’t seen him very often. He had spent about half a year, every year, in the capital assisting Lord Temis with his recruits. He had been trying to cut back, but it was difficult for a man still in his prime to give up the career that had been his second love for most of his life. Her mother, on the other hand, had always been there.

Srae had never spent a night further away than the house across the street from Dlami at any time. Srae would miss her mother more than anyone or anything in the world—at least for the next few years. In actuality, she was only five years old. While she would greatly miss her mother, in a few short years she would barely remember Dlami. Time eases wounds more than any would expect. However, now the pain was fresh and intense, and she cried, her tears all the more heartbreaking for the silence that surrounded her. After she had managed to get control of herself (aside from the occasional sob), she stood back up and removed the small dagger on a leather thong around Dlami’s neck. It didn’t hold an edge very well anymore, and it was slightly rust-spotted, but it held the spell that was the mark of Dlami’s being a member of the Hiresword guild, and it was very special to Srae. She slipped the thong around her own neck, picked the sword back up, and walked out of the house, never looking back, the sword barely an inch above the ground.

The quick trip to Litas went uneventfully. The horse knew the way, and the woman that was taking Srae back was light and knew that Srae wanted to get away from Annibali as soon as possible. Once they were there, the woman, Madam Tris (Triazara) took her to the mayor’s house. “There is another girl here from Annibali. I’m not sure of her name, but she is a very pretty blond girl. She brought her little brother. They are both there sleeping. Do you—“

“Iana and Sime! They’re my friends! Please, can I go with them? Please?” Srae looked beseechingly up at Madam Tris, who smiled down at her.

“Of course. If you would have let me finish my sentence, I would have asked you if you wanted to stay here with them. However, tomorrow you three will most likely come and stay with me at the orphanage.” Srae looked unhappy at this reminder of her parents’ death, but nodded anyway. M. Tris opened the door to the mayor’s house and took her to the bathing room. “Let’s clean you up before you go to bed, alright? You’re all messy,” M. Tris said, diplomatically neglecting to mention just what she was dirty with. Srae scowled, but agreed. She didn’t like baths. M. Tris took the very large kettle of water that was constantly kept filled by the servant from the fire and poured some into the washtub, then pulled the rope twice to let the servant know that he needed to bring up more water in a bit. She then helped Srae undress and climb in.

Once Srae was in the tub, M. Tris poured water on her hair, then took soap and rubbed it in. Srae’s hair looked dark brown with dried-up blood. M. Tris scrubbed her hair clean, then rinsed it off. But the odd thing was that Srae’s hair was now the bright scarlet of fresh blood. It was not a natural hair colour, to say the least. However, Madam Tris didn’t say anything, just continued scrubbing Srae. After washing Srae’s face, she discovered that Srae’s eyes were the same colour. Once again, she remained silent, though she planned on saying something to the priest in town.

After Srae was clean and dry, M. Tris found a clean shirt in the washroom and gave it to Srae. It probably belonged to the mayor, since it was far too large for the small girl, but it would work as nightclothes. Srae had become very passive and quiet throughout the entire process of bathing, going into shock from her parents’ death. M. Tris led her into the room where Iana and Sime lay sleeping, and handed her a sweet ball like Sime had had. “This will give you dreamless sleep, for tonight, alright? Pease eat it and then you can sleep.” Srae put it into her mouth and ate it, with a blank expression on her face, then she climbed into the bed beside Iana and clung tightly as she fell asleep. Iana turned slightly so that she was holding both Sime and Srae, as if even in her sleep she was protecting the two.

M. Tris watched over them for a moment, then left to speak to the priest, and prepare beds for them at the orphanage.