Lyssa knocked out the man wielding the piece of wood, and with a flick of her wrist she made sure his weapon ended up in the river.

The first few men just behind him were easily taken out with broken ribs and a shattered knee.

It was apparent they didn’t know how to fight and they had no weapons to make up for their lack of fighting skill.

The next wave of people had an assortment of tools that they had decided to wield as weapons.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had to fend off a mob and it probably wouldn’t be the last. The blunt objects were easy enough to use against the wielders, especially when they were more concerned with not trampling their fellow villagers than worrying what they hit.

Lyssa ducked a swinging club and everyone in the immediate area had to jump out of the way to avoid broken bones.

The man holding it didn’t have enough strength to stop the swing and redirect the heavy weapon.

It caught another man in the stomach.

He dropped to the floor with all the breath knocked out of him. He curled around his stomach and wheezed as the other man abandoned his attack on her to offer his apologies.

When the people holding pitchforks and other sharp objects joined the attack she had to reluctantly get out her daggers.

Now there would be a much bigger chance of someone dying.

The daggers may have been small but they were made by an artisan. It wasn’t the same one who made Andraste and probably wasn’t made in the same time period either. The styles were much too different, but the one fact that never changed with time was the quality of the Artisans’ work. No one knew how they made weapons, though many suspected magic, but what they made lasted when everything else became dust.

These blades were a blue edged silver and the hilts were a dirty golden colour with flecks of deep red. The red was slowly becoming the dominant colour on the hilt. She’d never been sure if that was something the Artisans’ did to show the age of a weapon, or if the blood of all those they had stolen the life from remained with the weapon. Other Artisan blades were rumoured to do those sorts of things.

The villagers advanced slower at the sight of the daggers. No one wanted to be the first to reach her.

She used that hesitation to her advantage by stepping into their space and breaking as many weapons as she could.

Most people flinched back at her aggression but a few met her in kind.

A pitchfork came a little too close to skewering the warrior, so she used an unconscious body to put distance between herself and the other woman.

Lyssa made quick work of the pitchfork, slicing through the metal spikes like flesh, and leaving little more than a wooden handle.

The woman holding it stopped trying to stab Lyssa and started trying to beat her with the wooden handle instead.

Lyssa grabbed the end racing towards her head and gave a sharp tug. She pulled it free of the woman’s hands.

Before the woman could react Lyssa had broken her nose with the end she had just been holding.

The woman stumbled back clutching her face.

Lyssa didn’t waste time looking to see how much damage she had just caused. She swung the wooden handle around to catch a guy behind her who had gotten too close.

She couldn’t be sure but the squeal he made meant she’d hit something important.

To get the message across she jabbed him again and then swung the wood around making everyone, who thought they could ambush her, jump back.

Now that she had space and a moat of bodies around her she felt more secure, but there were still so many of them, and she didn’t know how much longer she could afford not to seriously hurt anyone. Although the people clutching at their broken and bleeding bodies might argue about her definition of serious.

The fight wore on as the people just became angrier.

She took a few blows that would blossom into spectacular bruises in the morning, but it was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. It was better for her to be hit than they accidentally kill each other.

If she was being honest with herself she welcomed the blows, not just as penance for past sins but so when she did kill some of them it wouldn’t be as bad. Defence she could find a way to justify.

Their ferocity increased as they became more desperate. They tried to crowd in, trampling the people on the floor, and hitting each other more than they were hitting her.

A ripple of silence emanated from the back of the crowd as they moved aside for someone.

Then the man she had fought yesterday appeared with a sword in his hand.

She may have taken him easily then but now she had a lot more to worry about with exhaustion creeping in. It was time to really scare them.

Lyssa changed tactics from using the hilt of her daggers on the people, to using the blade on their flesh.

The warrior was cutting at any limb that came into her reach. She tried to make sure they were only superficial wounds but no one could be that precise in these circumstances.

She just needed them to think twice about attacking her when she was trying to deal with the only real threat. Blood would do that. It made you mortal when you saw your own red fluid leaking from your body.

The big man raised his sword, he had learned from the previous fight and thought he was ready to take her on.

She had a moment of clarity that she was going to have to kill him. Then probably a few of the others too before the rest would get the message.

Even now they may have stepped back to let him fight her but they were still there, ready to step in if he should falter. Most of them hadn’t been here for round one of this fight.

She blocked the attack with both her daggers and let him swing at her a few more times until he was in a rhythm.

She stepped within his guard and pressed one blade to his throat.

He stilled instantly and closed his eyes, waiting for the killing blow.

The crowd that had been previously cheering him on, froze where they stood. They had run out of choices. They were happy to let him deal with her and maybe step in if the fight got a bit tough, but now they didn’t have that choice.

If they attacked and she killed him it would be on their heads.

The shock of his imminent death had somewhat worn off.

He shifted his feet while looking down at her.

She pressed the blade against his neck drawing a thin line of blood that made a trail down his neck. All movement around them ceased.

Lyssa wanted to tell him to drop the sword and she would let him live, but the crowd were already gearing up to attack.

His face was carefully blank. He looked like he was trying to be brave but this close Lyssa could see the muscles in his face twitching and how his chin was trembling.

She pushed him back another step.

The crowd quietened for a moment, only to begin their furious whispering again.

They weren’t going to back off.

She had to kill him.

As her muscles tensed to deliver the cut to his throat a few tears escaped his eyes.

Then the sound of thundering of hooves cut through the tension on the bridge. Curiosity replaced the anger on the faces around her as every gaze moved to look behind her. Some clutched their weapons tighter while others dropped theirs as if they had been burned.

At first Lyssa wondered if the priest had called for backup. She scanned the crowd to find him standing at the back with the woman they were going to sacrifice. The uncertainty on his face told her this wasn’t his doing.

She had to see what this new threat was but didn’t dare turn her back on them.

Lyssa forced the man at the end of her dagger to turn, so his back was to the newcomers and she was mostly sheltered by his bulk.

At least twenty people on horseback erupted from the trees. Despite the dramatic entrance they weren’t mercenaries and they weren’t carrying weapons. The horses they rode were little more than ponies, although around here they were probably considered full grown horses, because no horse ever matched up to Bouda.

They looked similar to the people on the bridge right down to the type of clothes they were wearing. The only one who stood out was the woman riding at the front.

She had a confidence that set her apart, and much darker skin than that of the rest of the riders. Her horse was brown with a white diamond above its nose.

Abi’s face peeked out from behind the older woman’s back. She smiled and she gave Lyssa a little wave, before going back to holding on to her mother, after a particularly hard jolt almost sent her tumbling off the horse.

Lyssa indulged herself with a smile, but made sure her face was mostly hidden because she was still holding a man hostage.

Most of the riders slowed down before they got anywhere near the bridge, but Abi’s mother rode right up to the mouth of the bridge before stopping. She stared right past Lyssa to those behind with piercing eyes.

“You tried to sacrifice my daughter so you could control this bridge.” It wasn’t clear who the woman was speaking to exactly, but none of the people around Lyssa were looking at the woman.

Abi swung a leg over the horse’s back and dropped to the ground with very little grace, enthusiasm getting the better of her. Her mother sighed and looked to the heavens, but didn’t try to stop her.

Lyssa removed the blade from the man’s neck and gave him a shove to join the crowd.

Abi had a huge grin on her face as she ran to Lyssa, who met her half way to stop her from putting herself in danger.

Unfortunately Abi took this as enthusiasm and consent for a hug. She launched herself at Lyssa wrapping her arms around the warrior’s neck. Lyssa managed to sheathe the blades before catching Abi around the waist.

“We had another sacrifice but that girl attacked us and wouldn’t leave.” A man shouted. He wore clothes that were probably too expensive for most of the villagers. He hadn’t been in the fight either so she didn’t know where he’d been hiding.

“Yes, I’ve spoken to that boy and he wasn’t willing either.” The woman’s voice was ice as she stared them down.

“We’re sorry about your people but now we have a willing sacrifice.” A woman at the front tried to explain. All that explanation did was start the angry murmuring at the back again as the family of the sacrifice made their opinions known. The mother of the girl being the loudest.

“That solves one problem but you don’t own this bridge. It is used by many communities and you do not get to decide who crosses and who doesn’t.” Abi’s mother spoke slowly and precisely as if she was explaining something to a child.

“That’s not what’s happening. We needed some time to complete the sacrifice that’s all.”

Unfortunately that sounded reasonable enough if you knew nothing about the gods, and Abi’s mother didn’t look anywhere near angry enough to understand the implications.

“Then the bridge would belong to that god and the people subject to its whims.” Lyssa raised her voice to be heard over the river and the rising voices.

“Stay out of this.” The man in the expensive clothes snapped.

“She saved my daughter when our neighbours were going to murder her. I think she gets to speak.”

“You sacrifice a life to a god and that god is strengthened. They now have a tie to that place and gain control of the area. I’ve seen them use this to force people to worship and sacrifice, until the people are little more than thralls of the god. You don’t want to go down this road.” Lyssa spoke directly to Abi’s mother. The Cahan people behind her hadn’t listened, and they wouldn’t listen now.

“So, if I’m understanding this, you were going to give control of this bridge to a god. The only bridge we have to cross this river, and trade, and get supplies, and help when we need it.”

That shut them all up, and shame coloured the faces of more than a few. Then the priest stepped into their midst and a few hopeful faces turned towards him. They wanted him to make this right, make what they had been trying to do right.

“You don’t understand. The gods are angry and that is why the river is rising and the other bridges have been destroyed. We have to do something. We can’t ignore the problem. We don’t want our land to become like yours, a godless place where…”

“Enough from you priest. This is not your land and as far as I can see you are just a troublemaker. We are not godless, our gods don’t demand sacrifices and we will never offer human lives to them. You look after your side and we’ll look after ours.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s ours to make.”

The priest was standing on his own now, and that space wasn’t out of respect. These people had been shamed by the situation being put so bluntly to them, and he was the cause of it. They wouldn’t be trying this again any time soon.

There were no apologies and no eye contact as they left the way they came. Shuffling off into the forest as fast as their injuries would allow them.

The priest ran after them, but he’d have a lot more trouble convincing them this time, desperation wasn’t a pretty look on con men.

Abi’s mother dismounted with a lot more grace than her daughter and came to shake Lyssa’s hand. She had her hair tied tightly back in a ponytail. It was neat and orderly until the hair tie, where it defied gravity and the curls bounced with every movement of her head. Her clothes were practical and orderly, unlike her daughter who had many rips and mismatched items.

“I’m Kyla. I can't express my gratitude to you for saving my daughter's life.” She gathered both of the warrior’s hands into her own.

“I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Yes, you could have.” Kyla stared into Lyssa’s eyes and let the moment linger. “Come back to our village and we’ll celebrate.”

“I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“You’re traveling along this road and it leads straight to our village. Would you prefer to sleep in the woods than in a soft bed?” Kyla let go of Lyssa’s hands and gave her space, but maintained eye contact.

“No, I wouldn’t. Thank you. I’ll come back with you, but that priest might try something again.”

“We’re going to place lookouts for now. There will be a discussion later on what to do in the long term. We could use some advice.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes.

Lyssa felt like she had walked into a trap again. This woman was as bad as her daughter.

Abi bounced into view behind her mother, she was still smiling and she looked so hopeful. Lyssa couldn’t find her anger when she was looking at Abi. It was a lost cause.

“I can give advice.” The warrior resigned herself to staying in Hulna a little longer than she had anticipated.

Abi made a happy noise that didn’t sound quite human and attached herself to Lyssa’s arm. She had a feeling it would be a long time before the girl let go.