Instead of taking the winding road out of the village, Lyssa decided to cut through the forest beside the lake and then find the road again.

They jumped a fence, this time there was enough room to clear it completely, and disappeared into the trees. This close to the village the undergrowth between the trees was almost non existent, so they didn’t need to slow down too much. Just enough so Lyssa didn’t lose her head on a low branch.

Once on the road Bouda sprang into a gallop. They didn’t have to go far down the road to find the ambush.

The mercenaries the trader had hired were doing an admirable job of fending off the bandits, but they were outnumbered and more poured from the trees all the time.

One horse lay dead, struck with multiple arrows and laying at the side of the road, still attached to the covered wagon and stopping the second horse from running.

The wagon had big wheels and high defensible wooden walls, but the structure was straining under the pressure of a panicked horse and a dead horse.

Some of the bandits weren’t even joining the fight, instead they were stealing from an unprotected side of the wagon, where it looked like a bandit had cut open the leather, and running back to the protection of the forest.

One of the mercenaries fell with a sword through his shoulder and blood dripping between his fingers.

This left an older woman, who must have been the trader, with no protection. She was the only one not fighting, and she didn’t even have a sword. Her hair was almost completely grey with a few black strands left and her makeup did nothing to hide the wrinkles on her face. Despite this she stood her ground as the bandit advanced on her.

Lyssa didn’t have time to dismount. They charged into the fight knocking bandits flying on their way to save the woman.

Bouda reared up and kicked the bandit in the chest.

He hit the ground hard and skidded along the ground to lay at the foot of a tree.

He didn’t get up.

Lyssa drew a dagger and took aim.

She buried it in the throat of another approaching bandit. She fell with blood spewing from her mouth and around her fingers that clutched at her throat.

Bouda shifted under Lyssa to deliver a kick behind them.

Her hooves took out two bandits who had been charging them from behind.

They lay on the ground groaning and clutching their chests.

They wouldn’t be getting up either.

Lyssa offered an arm to the trader and hauled her up onto the horse’s back.

The trader wrapped her arms around Lyssa’s waist and buried her face in the warrior’s back.

Once the trader was settled Lyssa grabbed the reins again to direct Bouda away from the bandits who were already injured and to those who were still a threat.

The trader’s mercenaries had been bolstered by Lyssa’s arrival and were rallying behind their leader with the wagon at their backs.

They were dressed like the typical mercenaries she had fought on the bridge days earlier. Their armor was a mismatch of stolen and borrowed items. Mostly worn leather but a few had chainmail and even plate armor.

The leader wasn’t your typical mercenary though. His armor looked worn but expensive, as did the clothes underneath it. The sword he held shone in the sun and looked to have an edge, instead of the dull edges of the other mercenaries. He had long blond hair that was tied back from his face at the nape of his neck.

Lyssa maneuvered Bouda so they were next to the wagon and encouraged the trader to take a leap to the driver’s seat.

“You’ll be safer there.”

“I feel pretty safe here.” Her voice was high and trembled like her hands.

“Really. I’m about to charge those bandits.” Lyssa nodded to the stand off happening a few yards away.

The trader looked at the bandits and then the wagon. “Sure.”

She almost didn’t make it, but Lyssa grabbed her arm and helped swing her up. The older woman landed badly but she was alive, and probably had no broken bones.

Lyssa drew her sword and kicked Bouda into a canter.

The mercenaries cleared the way at her war cry.

Initially the bandits pressed forward as one but their consensus of staying in a group didn’t last long. They realised just how big the horse was and that Lyssa wasn’t a mercenary. That was a warrior with a greatsword and she was going to cut them down.

They scattered.

A few ran to their injured friends but most ran into the trees.

Only three stood to face her.

She killed the one closest outright with a sword to his head.

The other two ran and she only made a token show of chasing them. They were quickly swallowed up in the density of the forest.

When no bandits remained Lyssa took a breath and turned in her saddle to face the mercenaries watching her warily. They had yet to put their weapons away, and only a few were tending to the injured, instead they waited for their leader to tell them to stand down.

“When did Hulna get a warrior?” A heavily muscled mercenary whispered to the blond man who she had guessed was their leader.

“I’m going to say when the bandit problem got this bad.” He indicated the dead and injured bodies lying around them.

He sheathed his sword, a scimitar with a curved edge that was mostly used on horseback. On his other hip there was another sword that looked like a cutlass. Up close he looked older than she had first taken him for. His skin was heavily weathered by the sun and wind, and he walked like he had just stepped off a ship.

The muscled mercenary who stood beside him also sheathed his sword, another scimitar, and studied her as she studied him. He had a mostly shaved head with a long strip of black hair running down the middle. His skin was golden brown and it looked natural, not like he had spent too much time in the sun. His accent was heavy but he spoke the Cahan language well, or at least much better than she did.

“I’m not their warrior. I’m just helping.” Lyssa said, feeling it was important to make this distinction.

She would be leaving soon. Hulna was not hers and they owed her nothing.

“Sure.” He agreed, but still eyed her with wariness.

The blond turned his back on her altogether, trusting his partner to have his back, so he could address his men.

“Get our injured accounted for.”

The mercenaries scattered with haste, much like the bandits had. He had the respect of those he led and that was enough for Lyssa to leave the situation in his hands.

Lyssa dismounted and led Bouda to the wagon where the trader was trying to help the surviving horse. He was a dark chestnut colour with a scattering of white spots over his hindquarters.

There were no open wounds and nothing appeared to be broken but the horse was reluctant to put pressure on one leg. There was no way he could pull the wagon in this state.

“There might not be much you can do.” Lyssa said.

“I’m not giving up on Tril.” The trader snapped. The desperation clear in her voice.

“Not what I’m saying.” Lyssa took a deep breath and tried to soften her tone. Her blood was still pounding in her veins and she itched for another, more challenging fight.

Behind her Bouda shifted restlessly, tugging on the reins. The warrior settled herself and stopped her childish fidgeting, making sure she had a good grip on the reins. She couldn’t expect the horse to relax if she was still raring for a fight.

“Let Bouda pull the cart back and give your horse a rest.”

The trader’s gaze left the warhorse and studied the warrior. She nodded, mollified that Lyssa wasn’t suggesting her horse was useless and needed to be destroyed. The warrior left her to tend to her horse with Bouda hitched up to the wagon.

She found the mercenary leader handing out supplies to those treating the wounded.

“How many injured do we have?” Lyssa asked the mercenary leader.

“Too many. We might have to make camp and bring the medicine to them.”

“We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.” Lyssa surveyed the surrounding woods. Anyone could be in there watching them, and they wouldn’t know it until they attacked. “We’re asking for another ambush. We need to move now before they regroup.”

“I’m not leaving them behind.” He didn’t snap at her like the trader had, but there was a hardness to his voice that said he wasn’t going to back down on this issue.

“I didn’t say that.” Lyssa tried to keep her voice neutral, but she was going to start taking it personally if everyone thought her solution to every problem was death.

The sound of hooves on the path echoed around them.

Everyone put their hands on their weapons.

The tension diffused as Abi trotted up on a small brown horse. Lyssa berated herself for not noticing the girl’s approach.

Abi handed the reins to a confused looking mercenary and ran over to them with a pack in her arms.

“I told you to stay behind.” Lyssa didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of her voice. It seemed like nothing would scare Abi off.

“The fighting’s over, and I brought bandages and supplies.” She held up a bag as if they couldn’t see it in her hands.

Lyssa didn’t point out that Abi had no way of knowing if the fighting was over when she had left, because it would be pointless. What’s done is done.

She left Abi helping to patch up the mercenaries and took a closer look at the wagon. They could fit some of the injured men in the back if they moved a few things around and made people carry some other things. Abi’s horse would come in use after all. No one would be riding back but at least they’d get back.

“I’ve made space in the wagon. Get the injured in the back.” She told a passing mercenary, who set about following her orders after taking a moment to look startled at being addressed by the warrior.

“Your horse is going to pull that much weight on her own.” The mercenary leader wandered over to inspect her work.

“You think she can’t?”

His eyes flickered to Bouda and back to Lyssa. “I didn’t say that.” He said with a smile.

She hitched Bouda up to the wagon, and set Abi to loading the other horse up with supplies while the injured were carried into the back, some on makeshift stretchers, but most were hoisted over shoulders.

Lyssa held the reins tight as she clicked her tongue to get Bouda to move. The horse almost reared up but Lyssa waited her out, while eyeing her hooves so she could avoid any kicks coming her way.

Trained war horse she might be, but pulling a cart was a whole different game. She kept bounding forward with spurts of energy that had the wagon creaking and the trader protesting. Eventually they arrived at a steady pace as Bouda calmed. At least now there was less chance of the wheels falling off.

The injured horse kept up admirably, but that was only because the trader was encouraging the gelding with food.

When they sighted the village Bouda sped up at the excited people cheering them on. She practically pranced into the middle of the crowd, as if she wasn’t pulling a wagon behind her.

When no one produced the tasty fruit she liked she became less tolerant of the crowd, and nipped someone who tried to give her a pat. They tried to complain, but Lyssa silenced them with a look and they quickly disappeared back into the crowd. Nipping was the best they could expect from Bouda, no one had been trampled and they still had all their fingers.

Once the wagon was pulled into the village proper and Bouda was unhitched, Lyssa left the crowd, who were talking about celebrating the trader’s arrival, and headed back to the stable with Bouda.

She wouldn’t be escaping Hulna today and probably wouldn’t try again for a few more days. No matter how much she didn’t want to become attached to these people, and take on their problems, she feared she already had.

Even if her position of warrior here wasn’t official, and she hadn’t accepted responsibility for them, she couldn’t leave them in this much danger. She couldn’t leave Abi alone, to try to blindly save her people, and put herself in danger in the process.