She poked her head around the stable door, careful not to be spotted by the stable master, who had banned her many times from the stable for disturbing the horses, or the stable hand who would be obligated to report her so he didn't get into trouble.
Neither were present, only Lyssa, who was attempting to pack while Bouda harassed her. The white horse was probably after the Maro fruit, but there wouldn't be any more until the harvest when it fell from the tree signalling harvest time. Then they would travel through the forest gathering seeds and planting everything they could in gratitude for what they received.
Abi couldn't help bouncing over to Lyssa, who only briefly acknowledged her with a nod before going back to packing. She had short blond hair and the lightest skin Abi had ever seen. Even trader Rithrin wasn’t this pink.
The warrior fascinated Abi in a way that no one else ever had. She'd met other warriors who came through the village now and again but they had all been ferocious up front.
She had watched them from a distance, with the same wariness that everyone else had for them. They were quick to anger if not shown enough respect, and expected to be treated like lords, or what she imagined Lords to be like, because she had never met one. All she knew was that they existed in other countries, and owned the land despite not working the land, and then expected the people to keep them fed.
The warriors who had passed through expected the same as lords, but at least they did vow to protect them against attacks in exchange. The only problem was, that had been years ago when there were no attacks.
They had done nothing and still expected to be rewarded. They would also get drunk and get into fights over nothing.
Abi had yet to see Lyssa drink any alcohol and she avoided the people Kyla told her to avoid. Even when confronted with someone being disrespectful she held her temper. Although the cold stare she gave was enough to frighten most people off.
If Abi hadn’t seen her in battle she wasn’t sure she’d believe the warrior was capable of the violence she commited. Lyssa was soft spoken and calm on the surface, until she leapt into action with surprising ferocity. There seemed to be no middle ground.
Her quiet nature had probably been what made people think they could confront her when they had avoided other warriors. The clothes she had worn around the village were little more than rags. They had been ripped and fixed to provide her with relief from the heat but people had begun calling her the beggar warrior.
Now she looked like a proper warrior. She wore leather boots that laced up her legs and breeches that had strategically placed padding and metal pieces to stop arrows. Chainmail covered her torso, but stopped at her shoulders leaving her arms bare for freedom of movement.
The great sword hung at her back, its golden hilt with its fanged beasts almost glowing in the light, while two smaller, less grand, swords hung from the belt at her hips. Abi had no doubt there were more weapons hidden within easy reach. She wondered just how many weapons the warrior had, and how many different types of weapons there were.
She was interrupted from her thoughts by Lyssa saying something and frowning at her in concern.
“Sorry, What did you say?” Abi blushed and focused back on the woman in front of her.
“You know this is going to be dangerous?” Lyssa gestured to the armour she was wearing.
The warrior was picking up their language at a bumpy rate. She knew the language of those across the river and spoke it well. There were enough similarities between the languages that if you knew one you could figure out the other with time, but it also meant most of the time she was speaking a mix of both, that only sort of made sense, and would probably be incomprehensible to those who only spoke one or the other.
“Of course.” Abi tried to still her movements and focus on Lyssa, but her hands still wanted to wander so she put her fingers in her belt. “I just want to help.”
“As long as you’ve thought it through.” The warrior tried to move past, but Abi hugged her from the side trapping one of Lyssa’s arms between them. Lyssa sighed but there was a smile on her face. “You know I can’t stop you from going where you want.”
“Yeah, but people don’t usually trust me to make decisions.” Abi hadn’t meant to be quite that honest, but she didn’t seem to be able to help it around Lyssa.
“We need to get moving.”
Abi let go and happily walked beside the warrior asking her questions, but getting very few responses. It seemed Lyssa wasn’t a morning person.
The carpenter had worked all night to get the wagon back into optimal shape. It had made it from the ambush to the village, but the roads and terrain would only get rougher from here. The roads were only maintained a few times a year unless there was an urgent need, and that was mostly the ones closest to the village. There had to be something really wrong for people to venture out into the wilds.
The Trader’s chestnut horse was already hitched to the wagon and contentedly chewing on a nearby bush. The second horse was a dappled mare, who appeared to be the center of an argument not far away from the first.
Mayor Drulhond held the reins, with her mother standing next to him facing off against stable master Cloade, while a few spectators gathered around to watch the show.
“What are they saying?” Lyssa asked.
“Cloade doesn’t want to lend us any horses. My mother is implying he’s selfish and doesn’t care about the community.” Abi said.
When there was a lull in the shouting Abi went to stand by her mother. Lyssa followed and placed herself as a looming presence behind Kyla, one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword and the other on her hip.
Cloade’s face turned red spreading up across his bald head, as it always did when he was about to lose his temper, but the warrior’s presence only made him more determined to argue.
“You can’t just take my horses!” The Stable master shouted, his voice booming around the green.
More people on the green turned to watch, but most people went back to their tasks fairly quickly. This wasn’t exactly an unusual event in Hulna.
“They’re not yours, they belong to the community.” Kyla replied, not bothering to raise her voice at all, but standing tall against him and letting her body language speak clearly.
“Which means this should be a community decision.” Cloade said.
“There’s no time to call everyone to vote and this has to be done.”
“Because you say so.” The stable master stepped forward, towering over Kyla, who’s only reaction was to glare back.
Abi worried that Lyssa might try to intervene, but the warrior’s only reaction was to shift her weight from one hip to the other and continue to watch.
“No,” The Mayor forced himself between Kyla and Cloade, “because I was chosen to make these decisions, and represent the community’s interests, and this is what's best for all of us.” The Mayor finally managed to get a word in edgewise and he levelled his glare at both of them. “We are giving the horse as a gift of thanks to the trader for coming here at all.”
There were grumbles throughout the watching crowd as their entertainment was stopped before it could really get going. Her mother and the stable master had had some truly epic fights over the years.
The mayor put up a hand to forestall any complaints. “That is all I will hear on the matter until it’s time for the next meeting. Now get to work.” He sharply clapped his hands together like he was shooing away stray animals.
The crowd retreated with speed, but the stable master threw one last look of contempt at Kyla, who returned it in kind, before stalking off towards the stable hands waiting for his orders.
The Mayor turned to Kyla. “Thank you for making that so easy, I look forward to more of your diplomacy.”
“There was only one way that conversation was going to end.” Kyla sounded confident, but her gaze avoided the mayor.
“When you two are involved that’s true. You can’t take the high road?”
“It doesn’t work with that man, he sees it as weakness.”
“Are we going to have any trouble from him?” Lyssa asked, her gaze fixed on the stable master taking his anger out on his underlings not far away.
“No, or at least you won’t. He’s a coward at heart.”
“Kyla!” The mayor snapped. “Lets not spread your feud to visitors.”
“It’s not my feud and I won’t let him run roughshod over everyone.”
The mayor handed the horse’s bridle to Abi who was startled at being given a job to do and almost dropped it. “Hitch the horse to the wagon, and please leave before anything else happens.” The mayor pleaded, before turning around and walking away.
Abi led the horse to the wagon and hitched her up. She came back from the wagon to tell them they were ready to go.
Kyla kissed her daughter and hugged her. “Be safe.”
Soon Lyssa was mounted on Bouda at the front of the group. With the way the horse was dancing in place Abi could see there would be no way the warrior would be able to make the horse take any other position. Not for a while at least.
Roland and Glinada, the two villagers who had volunteered followed behind the wagon, with the mercenaries in position behind them. Abi hadn’t spent much time with either of them because they were recent additions to Hulna, marrying into families, but still concerned with their birth families in the other villages.
The scouts, Lyssa had ordered to monitor the woods around the village, had reported no sightings of bandits during the night. So they headed out with weapons sheathed, and only the excited wariness of starting a long journey.
Vat, the lead guard, walked beside the wagon on the same side as Abi. He had replaced his damaged clothes with almost pristine clothes in a similar style. A beige shirt with billowing sleeves that he had secured above his elbows, probably because of the heat, and a leather waistcoat that was very decorative but looked thick enough to be armor.
She had been told that people in the cities didn’t have to make their own clothes, but to see someone be so casual about having a set damaged, she had to hold her tongue for all the questions she wanted to ask.
Abi had also been told many times that asking questions wasn’t polite, but she could only hold herself back so long before she found herself steering the conversation that way.
Luckily Vat didn’t seem to mind, and he smiled at her as he answered. His husband Shira even interrupted him, and added his own teasing answers of Vat’s vanity in between watching the forest for any sign of attack.
Shira was bulky, but shorter than his husband, and seemed to have a better idea of how to dress for the heat. He wore a leather doublet that was only done halfway up his chest with no shirt underneath. It was still a fancy piece of armor, but looked a lot more practical.
Eventually Vat and Shira left to attend their guard duties, and make sure the mercenaries were where they were meant to be.
Abi sat next to Rithrin in the wagon, asking the trader questions about the places she’d been, and what it was like to be a trader. She didn’t get many answers, Rithrin was too nervous about leaving the village and being ambushed again, but her questions eventually served as a distraction and the trader relaxed a little.
When the trader became fed up of Abi’s chattering she told her to go talk to someone else. Abi had always like Rithrin’s honesty the few times they had interacted over the years. Other people either said nothing and got angry, or avoided Abi altogether.
She lowered herself and jumped from the wagon to the ground, then ran and caught up with Lyssa, who dismounted to walk beside Abi. They talked for a while, with Abi providing most of the conversation as usual, until Bouda tried to nip Abi’s shoulder when she got too close.
“She’s not friendly at all is she?”
“She’s better when she’s had a run.”
“A bit like me?” Abi meant it as a joke but it hung too close to the truth.
“Yes, you make terrible workers, but excel at anything you put your mind to.”
“You think I can be useful?” Abi stared up at Lyssa.
Lyssa hesitated. “That’s not what I’m saying. Where I come from we have a word for people like you. It is hard to translate but it means devoted or skilled. We don’t expect them to work the same as others, because it is useless to try to change your nature. They chose their path and put everything they have into it. Usually surpassing others and creating their own place in the tribe. Don’t waste your energy, or yourself on trying to be like the others. It’ll never work. Find what you’re good at and spend your life there. Understand?” Lyssa glanced over at Abi while a small smile played on her lips.
“Yes.” Abi said, very aware of how eager she sounded.
“Good.”
They fell into silence until they came to a flat piece of land where the trees fell away. They would be safe here with the open landscape, able to see anyone coming miles before they got to them. In the distance another forest waited and beyond that steep hills that would be hard to navigate with a wagon unless they followed the road.
“I’m going to scout ahead and find us a camp for the night.” Lyssa shouted back to Rithrin and the guards as she jumped onto Bouda’s back.
Bouda was already tense like a bow string with the anticipation of flight, so the second Lyssa gave the horse her head she leapt forward.
Abi gasped as they took off down the road leaving a trail of dust behind them.
They gained speed at an incredible rate.
Bouda’s hooves thundered over the ground and Lyssa gained the forest before the wagon was even halfway across the plain. Abi longed to be with her, to help her scout ahead, to learn everything the warrior had to offer.
She wanted to help people so badly. Maybe a warrior could be what she could devote herself to. She could be a warrior just like Lyssa was and actually help people, instead of the self serving ways of those warriors who had come to her village to take what they could.
Abi reclaimed her seat next to Rithrin, but left the older woman in peace, instead her mind whirled with all the possibilities and the places she could go. The only problem was she needed training, and that meant convincing Lyssa she’d make a good apprentice.
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