Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 5-8 (Patreon)

Chapter 5

Caius reached down and snatched Lys’s bow off the ground. Her heart sank as she realized she had dropped it in the scuffle.

“Give that back,” Lys demanded, her voice shaking with anger. “It belongs to me.”

Caius sneered, holding the bow just out of her reach. “You won’t have any need for it.”

He stomped on her training arrows, the sound of cracking wood filling the air. Lys watched in horror as her arrows splintered beneath his boots.

Caius took another step forward, and Lys instinctively stepped back. He laughed, turning to Brug. “Now she’s going to learn not to run her mouth.”

He took Lys’s bow and started bending it backwards.

Lys’s eyes widened in panic. “Stop!” she shouted, lunging forward.

But Caius just laughed, handing the bow to Brug. The huge boy grinned, his massive arms flexing as he bent the bow further. The wood gave way with a sickening snap, splitting in two.

Lys groaned inwardly, her heart sinking. The bow had cost several silver pieces, and now it was ruined.

“You’ll pay my family back for that bow,” she said, her voice trembling with rage. “It wasn’t yours to break.”

Caius looked around at the other boys, a mocking smile on his face. “Look at her, the poor, impoverished girl worrying about her broken bow.”

He turned back to Lys, his eyes glinting with malice. “It was just an accident,” he said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. “But don’t worry. Once my dad starts doodling your mother, he’ll pay for a new bow.”

Lys’s vision turned red, her fists clenching at her sides. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off Caius’s face. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Stay back,” Lys said, her voice low and dangerous.

But he ignored the warning, reaching out to grab her. Lys reacted on instinct, her fist connecting with his face in a satisfying crunch.

Caius stumbled back, his hand flying to his nose. For a moment, Lys thought she had won. But then he lunged forward, his hand clamping down on her upper arm in a bruising grip.

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Caius said to the other boys, his voice strained with pain. He put on a brave face, but she could see the anger burning in his eyes.

She tried to hit him again, but he shoved her backward against the house, pinning her with his body. His breath was hot on her face as he leered at her, his eyes filled with a sickening mix of anger and lust.

“I might as well check out all her assets,” he said to the others, his voice dripping with malice. “Make sure she’ll be worth having once we’re married.”

His hand shot out, grabbing her chest and squeezing it painfully. Lys gasped, panic rising as she tried to headbutt him, but he was too tall. She pulled away, but his grip was like iron, holding her in place as he squeezed her breast again, harder this time.

Desperate, Lys leaned in and sank her teeth into his forearm, biting down with all her strength. Caius shrieked, his grip loosening as he yanked his arm away. She seized the opportunity, slipping past him and darting towards the gap in the circle of boys.

They closed ranks, blocking her path.

She spun around wildly, searching for a way out, but there was none. They had her surrounded, their faces twisted with cruel amusement.

“We need to teach her a lesson,” Vern said, his voice cold and calculating.

Caius turned on her, his forearm bleeding from her bite mark. “You bitch,” he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. “I’ll make you suffer for that.”

“You attacked me first, asshole!” Lys hissed back.

He lunged at her, and she moved to dodge, but he was too fast. His hand clamped down on her arm, yanking her towards him. She struggled, but he was too strong. With his free hand, he slapped her hard across the face, the impact making her see stars.

“Maybe we should strip her clothes,” Vern suggested, his voice thick with anticipation.

Caius looked around at the others, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “What do you say, boys? Want to see her naked?”

Lys clung to his arm, trying to regain her footing as his fingers dug into her skin.

Her mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmare. And then it hit her - the obvious attack to make. She glanced down, her eyes locking onto the vulnerable spot between his legs.

She tensed, preparing to kick him where it would hurt the most. But suddenly, her vision blurred, and the world around her seemed to fade away.

In her mind’s eye, she saw another girl—herself—kicking at Caius’s groin. He twisted at the last moment, and her foot connected with his thigh instead. With a snarl, he slammed her to the ground, pinning her beneath his weight. The other boys descended upon her like a pack of wolves, their hands tearing at her clothes.

Vern’s voice cut through the chaos, a sickening suggestion falling from his lips. “Let’s make sure she’s not a whore and will bleed properly.” He held up a wooden spoon, a twisted grin on his face.

Terror gripped Lys’s heart, the vision so vivid she could almost feel their hands on her skin. As suddenly as it had come, the vision vanished, and she was back in the present, still held tightly by Caius as he laughed.

Lys’s gaze fell to his knee, and a strange instinct whispered to her.

She noticed how he leaned all his weight on his right leg, the joint locked in place. It was as if some unseen force was guiding her, showing her exactly what she needed to do.

Lys raised her foot. She couldn’t let them do that to her. She had to escape, no matter what. Channeling all her strength, she brought her foot down on Caius’s knee at the perfect angle, stomping with every ounce of force she could muster.

A sickening crack echoed through the air, and the laughter died instantly. Silence fell over the group, broken only by Caius’s agonized shriek as he toppled to the ground, his leg giving way beneath him. He writhed on the dirt, his screams piercing the air like those of a stuck pig.

Lys stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest as Caius’s agonized shrieks filled the air. He clutched at his leg, which was bent backwards at the knee joint, bone piercing the cloth of his trousers. A brown stain began to soak them—blood.

Panic gripped the other boys, and half of them, including Brug, ran away in terror.

Vern cursed, jumping the fence and screaming for help.

Lys blinked, her mind reeling with a mix of panic and worry. She knew that an injury like this could be deadly if Caius didn’t get help right away.

She turned to the nearest frozen boy and shouted, “Give me your belt!”

He stared at her blankly, unmoving. Lys moved to take it off him herself, but another boy nearby quickly removed his own belt and handed it to her.

“Here,” he said, his voice shaking.

Lys snatched the belt and knelt beside Caius. “Hold still,” she commanded, but he thrashed in agony, refusing to listen.

“Help me hold him down!” she yelled to the remaining boys.

Several of them rushed forward, pinning Caius to the ground. Lys slipped the belt around his thigh, cinching it as close to his groin as she could. Blood poured from the wound, the bone jabbing into the dirt.

“Someone bring me a stick!” Lys called out, tightening the belt.

One of the boys handed her the broken half of her bow. She cursed under her breath but quickly used it to wind up the tourniquet, twisting it tightly to stem the flow of blood.

Jhon and Gaius arrived on the scene, their faces etched with shock and fear. Jhon immediately knelt beside Caius, his hands moving swiftly as he began to administer first aid. Lys backed away, her heart hammering in her chest.

Gaius looked at his son’s gruesome injury, his eyes wide with panic. “What the hells happened?” he demanded, his voice trembling.

One of the boys pointed at Lys, his finger shaking. “She kicked him,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Gaius whirled on Lys, his face contorted with rage. He grabbed her, his fingers digging into her skin as he screamed, “You’re under arrest!”

*

Chapter 6

Gaius dragged Lys through the inn, his grip on her arm unyielding.

She stumbled, trying to keep up with his furious pace. The patrons turned to stare as they passed, their voices going silent at the sight of the scene.

He hauled her down the cellar stairs, the damp air hitting her face. Lys’s heart raced as Gaius unlocked the cell door with a heavy iron key. With a grunt, he shoved her inside, sending her sprawling onto the cold stone floor.

Pain shot through her hand as she caught herself. The punch to Caius’ face. She hadn’t felt the pain because of the adrenaline. Her knuckles were split and bleeding, the skin already starting to bruise.

Gaius slammed the cell door shut with a clang that echoed through the cellar. He locked it quickly, his hands shaking with rage. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” he snarled.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out, his footsteps receding up the stairs. She was left alone in the dimly lit cell, the only sound being the dripping of water somewhere in the darkness.

The stone floor seeped the heat from her body, and she shivered, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a sob tore from her throat. She buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking as she wept.

How had everything gone so wrong? She had only been trying to defend herself, to stop Caius from hurting her. He should have been the one locked up in the cell!

Would they exile her from the village? Or worse, would they execute her for assaulting the headsman’s son?

She thought of her family, of the shame and hardship her actions would bring upon them. Her mother would be devastated, and her little sister and brothers would be left to take up her share of the burden.

Lys curled up tighter, pressing herself into the corner of the cell. The stone was rough against her back, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was the ache in her chest and the throbbing pain in her hand.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of her situation. But the tears kept coming, and she sobbed until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen.

She had never felt so alone or so afraid. Things would never be the same again.

Some time later, the cellar door slammed open startling Lys from her fitful sleep. Gaius stormed in, his face contorted with rage. “You little bitch!” he screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “My boy will never walk again because of you!”

Before she could react, Gaius grabbed her by the front of her shirt and hauled her to her feet. His hand cracked across her face, snapping her head to the side. Pain exploded in her cheek, and she tasted blood.

Lys struggled against his grip, but Gaius was too strong. He slapped her again, and her vision blurred. She could hear shouting from above, but it seemed distant, muffled by the ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, the angry hand released her, and someone scooped her up into their arms. Lys’s right eye refused to open, but through her left, she saw Bran’s grim face as he carried her up the cellar stairs.

As they reached the top, Lys’s head began to clear. “I can walk,” she mumbled, and Bran nodded, setting her gently on her feet.

Lys looked around the inn, taking in the scene before her. Dozens of men filled the room, many of them lumberjacks wielding their axes. Others, opposing them, clutched clubs and barstools, their faces tense with anger.

One of the men with a club stepped forward, pointing at Bran. “What did you do to Gaius?” he demanded.

For a moment, Lys’s heart stopped. Had Bran killed the headsman in his rage?

Bran merely tossed the man the cell key. “He’s down there, locked up,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled fury.

The room ignited into a commotion of shouts and arguments, the men’s voices rising in a chaotic uproar. Lys leaned against Bran, her head throbbing and her cheek swelling.

Several men descended into the cellar. Moments later, they emerged, dragging a disheveled Gaius with them. The headsman sported a swollen black eye, and his face contorted with rage as he pointed an accusing finger at Bran.

“Arrest him!” Gaius bellowed, his voice hoarse with fury. “He assaulted me, the village headsman!”

Lys tensed, but a group of lumberjacks stepped forward, their axes held firmly in hand. They stood beside Bran, their faces set in grim determination.

Gaius’s eyes widened at the sight of the armed men, but he quickly regained his composure. “You want to be locked up too?” he snarled, his gaze darting between the lumberjacks.

Bran’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere. “Your boy assaulted my sister!” he shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. “She only defended herself while surrounded!”

Gaius scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. “I got the story from my boy’s friends,” he spat. “She accosted them and then assaulted Caius, shattering his leg forever! Everyone knows how angry she can get!”

The two sides erupted into a cacophony of shouts and accusations, their voices rising in a chaotic din. Lys leaned against the wall. She watched as the men argued back and forth, their faces red with anger.

Finally, Gaius backed down, his eyes narrowed in hatred. “The Magistrate will be called,” he threatened, his voice low and menacing. “She’ll be branded and sold for her crimes, and don’t think you’ll get off for assaulting the village headsman!”

Bran’s eyes flashed with defiance. “You won’t be the headsman for long after this,” he retorted, “not without the lumberjacks’ support!”

With that, Bran led Lys out of the inn, the burly lumberjacks forming a protective escort around them. She stumbled along, her mind hazy with exhaustion and pain. The men’s voices faded into a distant buzz as they walked, their words lost in the fog of her thoughts.

As they reached the top of the hill, Lys’s legs gave out, and she nearly tumbled to the ground. Bran caught her, his powerful arms supporting her as they made their way inside.

A cry of anguish filled the air as her mother enveloped her in a tight embrace. Tears streamed down the older woman’s face as she guided Lys to a chair, her gentle hands examining the bruises and cuts that marred her daughter’s skin.

Elena fussed over Lys, gently wiping away the blood and dirt with a damp cloth. Bran paced back and forth, his brow furrowed with worry and anger.

After a few minutes, things were calmer. Elena sat down beside Lys, her eyes filled with concern. “What happened?” she asked softly, taking her daughter’s hand in her own.

Bran stopped pacing and turned to face them, his arms crossed over his chest. “I want to hear the story too,” he said, his voice tight with tension.

Lys glanced over at the bedroom door, where her younger siblings peeked out, their faces pale with fear. She sighed and turned back to her mother and brother. “Can I have some water first?” she asked, her throat dry and scratchy.

Bran nodded and quickly fetched a cup of water from the clean water barrel by the door. Lys took a sip, wincing as the cool liquid burned the cut on her lip where Gaius had punched her.

“Your friend ran all the way to the logging camp to tell us what happened,” Bran said, setting the cup down on the table. “But his story wasn’t very clear.”

Lys’s eyes widened in surprise. “Emil?”

Bran nodded, his expression grim. “Yes, Emil.”

Lys felt a surge of anger rise inside her, and she let out a tense breath through her nose. She couldn’t believe how Emil had betrayed..

With a deep breath, she started to tell her mother and brother what had happened. The story started with her archery practice in the woods and progressed to how Emil had approached her with a story about Elie needing help. She described following him to the edge of the village, only to be ambushed by Caius and his cronies.

Lys’s voice shook as she recounted the fight, how Caius had broken her bow and groped her, and how she had bitten his arm to escape. She told them about the sickening crack of Caius’s knee when she stomped on it, and the way his screams had filled the air.

By the time she finished her story, Lys was trembling with exhaustion and emotion. Her mother wrapped her in a tight hug, whispering soothing words in her ear. Bran’s face was a mask of fury, his fists clenched at his sides.

“We’ll figure this out, Lys,” he said, his voice low and determined. “I won’t let them hurt you more.”

Lys nodded, leaning into her mother’s embrace.

She didn’t know how he would keep his promise.

*

Chapter 7

Lys woke as light angled down on her face. She groaned and placed her hand over her face for a moment before rolling to put her feet on the floor. Her entire body hurt like someone had beaten her—which was what essentially had happened.

She slowly made her way out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her left eye. Her right hurt too much to open. She found Bran deep in conversation with her mother. A lumberjack she didn’t recognize stood by the door, his axe leaning against the wall.

“What’s going on?” Lys asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Bran turned to her, his expression serious. “It’s good you woke up,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Lys glanced around the room, noticing the sunlight streaming through the windows. It seemed like it was well past morning. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Elena replied, her face etched with worry.

Lys’s eye widened in surprise. She couldn’t believe she had slept for so long. Bran motioned for her to sit down at the table. “Things are tense.”

Lys nodded, her gaze drifting to the unfamiliar lumberjack. “What’s with the lumberjacks?” she asked.

Bran let out a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “They didn’t go to work today,” he explained. “They were afraid that Gaius’s men would try to break in and grab you.”

A surge of fear set her heart to racing. Bran gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “We won’t let them take you,” he said firmly. “But the Magistrate is on the way, or will be once the messenger Gaius sent gets to him.”

Bran and Elena shared a distraught look, their eyes filled with concern. Bran turned back to Lys, his expression grim. “The village boys are telling a different story from yours,” he said. “And Emil’s story only goes up to bringing you there.”

Lys frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “They ambushed me,” she said, her voice rising with anger.

Bran nodded. “We believe you,” he said. “But most of the boys won’t even admit to being there.”

Lys felt a wave of panic wash over her. “There were over a dozen!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with emotion.

Bran sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “The ones that admit to being there all say you attacked Caius for tricking you,” he said.

Lys tightened her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “That’s a lie,” she said through gritted teeth.

Elena looked at her daughter, her eyes brimming with tears. “We think you should leave the village,” she whispered. “Go north to Silverpines, stay with your Uncle Aldric and Aunt Elara.”

Lys stared at her mother in disbelief. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Lys watched as Bran paced back and forth. After a moment, he turned to face her, his expression serious.

“We can’t protect you forever, Lys,” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Gaius is likely to send his men after you again, regardless of what the Magistrate does.”

Lys felt a surge of fear course through her veins. “What will the Magistrate do?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Will I be sold off as a slave?”

Bran shook his head vehemently. “No, there’s no way,” he assured her. “Even if Gaius bribed the man, it wouldn’t fly. Branding is reserved only for murder or treason to the prince.”

Lys bit her lip. “Will they come after me in Silverpines?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “But you would be safer there. Silverpines has a constable and sheriff, and Uncle Aldric is a council member of the town. He’ll have the resources to help.”

Lys nodded, trying to process the information. She felt numb, as if her body had gone into shock. The thought of leaving her home, her family, everything she had ever known... She had wanted to go travel and explore the world…

But not like this.

She looked around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. The worn wooden table where they ate their meals, the fireplace where they gathered on chilly nights, the shelves lined with her mother’s cooking supplies. It was all so familiar, so comforting.

But now, everything had changed. Lys took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew Bran was probably right, and if leaving was the only way to ensure her family’s safety, she would go. But the thought of starting over in a new place, with new people, was suddenly terrifying.

She looked at her mother, who was watching her with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to leave,” Lys said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Not like this.”

Elena came to her and hugged her. Lys fought back the tears. She knew she had to be strong.

Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at Bran. “I’m so afraid for her safety,” she said, her voice trembling. “What if they come after her on the road?”

Bran placed a comforting hand on Elena’s shoulder. “One of the men can go with her,” he suggested.

Elena shook her head, her gaze fixed on Bran. “You should go yourself,” she said, her tone insistent.

Bran considered her words for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “I need to watch Gaius.”

“How can you do that while up at the logging camp?” Elena demanded.

Bran sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll just have to take a few days off work,” he said. “We can handle that.”

Lys frowned, considering the journey. What she would need.

“I don’t have the things necessary to travel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And we can’t afford them. I’m not even sure if we can go buy them.”

Bran turned to her. “I have some savings with Elie,” he said. “I’ll go buy them.”

Lys felt a surge of panic rise in her chest. “Then you won’t have enough to go to Heartlehelm,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Bran shook his head, his eyes softening. “We can delay a little while,” he said. “It’s more important that we outfit you well.”

Footsteps echoed, drawing Lys’s attention. She turned to see her younger siblings entering the room.

Thom’s eyes widened in shock as he took in her battered state. “Is Lys leaving?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Cora clutched her dress, looking afraid and confused, while Silas burst into tears, his sobs echoing through the room.

Lys’s heart broke at their reactions. Leaving them behind would be one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she had no choice.

Her mother tried to comfort Silas, picking him up and bouncing him gently in her arms.

Bran turned to Lys with a serious expression. “We’ll prepare for the trip the rest of the day,” he said. “You’ll leave in the morning.”

A sinking sensation settled in Lys’s stomach. Before she could respond, a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. The lumberjack let in a young boy who stepped into the room hesitantly.

“Gaius sent me to ask for the rolls,” the boy said, his voice small and timid. He was obviously expecting a reaction.

Elena’s face contorted with rage, and he got one. “I’ll never cook for that bastard again after what he did to my daughter!”

Bran rushed to hold her, trying to calm her down. Lys was overcome by a rush of anxiety. The Inn was the family’s primary source of income, and if her mother stopped cooking for it because of her, the family would face even more hardship.

Lys stood up and gently tugged on her mother’s arm. “I’ll help bake them with you,” she said, her voice trembling.

Elena shook, torn between her anger and the need to provide for her family. Bran turned to the boy and said, “Come back in an hour for them.”

The boy nodded and quickly left the building. Elena looked at Lys, her eyes filled with tears. “You hate baking,” she said weakly.

Lys fought back her own tears and replied, “I still want to do it with you.”

Bran cleared his throat. “I’ll leave Jorg to watch you while I go out to purchase supplies,” he said, gesturing to the lumberjack.

Lys followed her mother into the kitchen, her siblings filing in behind them to help. As they began to prepare the dough, Lys tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing away the thoughts of leaving her family and the uncertainty of her future.

*

Chapter 8

Lysandra woke with a sense of dread, Cora and Silas still asleep, snuggled around her.

A candle flickered in the living room, hinting that someone had been up already, even before dawn. The faint sound of work reached her ears.

Rubbing her eyes, Lys slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her siblings. She tucked the blanket around Cora and Silas, letting them snuggle closer together. With quiet steps, she made her way to the living room.

Bran looked up from the leather backpack he was packing and met her gaze with a solemn nod. Lys returned the gesture, a silent understanding passing between them.

She retreated to her room to get dressed, choosing a pair of trousers and her best shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, she left her skirt behind. An extra pair of underclothes and a shirt joined her meager belongings. Glancing around the room, she realized there wasn’t much to take.

Tears threatened to spill as childhood memories flooded back. The realization that she might never return home hit her like a physical blow. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lys gathered her things and brought them to the living room.

“Good,” Bran said, eyeing her bundle. “I wasn’t sure what to pack for your clothes.”

Elena stepped out of the kitchen, a large knife sheathed in leather in her hands. She approached Lys, holding out the weapon. “That’s father’s hunting knife,” Lys whispered.

“I want you to have it,” Elena said, pressing the sheathed blade into her daughter’s hands.

Lys took the knife, feeling the weight of it, the weight of her father’s memory. She nodded, a silent promise to carry it with honor.

She took a moment to compose herself, then started gearing up, with Bran helping her with the pack. The scent of new leather filled her nose as she shouldered the unfamiliar weight. Bran went over the contents with her, pointing out the small tent, bedroll, and heavy wool cloak nestled inside.

“This must have cost a fortune,” Lys said, her eyes wide with shock.

Bran brought out a bow, quiver, and a bundle of arrows and set them beside the pack. Lys picked one up, realizing the tips were made of metal, not the field points she was used to. “It’s too much,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the generosity.

Thom emerged from the bedroom, his face somber. “Promise you’ll write to us and send word when you can,” he said, his voice cracking.

Lys pulled him into a tight hug. “I will. And please, tell Cora and Silas that I said goodbye.”

With Bran’s help, she finished adjusting her pack and slipped her new bow onto her back. The pack had a neat loop that held it steady.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should string it, but decided that she’d worry about it later. The string went into its own little protected pocket.

Elena stepped forward, wrapping Lys in a fierce embrace. Lys could feel her mother’s body shaking. She hugged her back just as tightly, memorizing the feel of her mother’s arms around her.

Bran and Lys stepped outside, where Jorg was waiting.

Her brother took her aside, his expression grave. “Listen, Lys, the road can be dangerous. Bandits are rare, but if you encounter them, don’t listen to their demands. Just run.”

Lys nodded.

“And if you see blood-colored men,” Bran continued, his voice low and urgent, “run. Don’t engage with them.”

“But man-eaters don’t come down out of the mountains,” Lys said, frowning.

Bran met her gaze, his eyes intense. “They are dangerous if provoked. Avoid them at all costs.”

He slipped a pouch into her hands. Lys looked down, her eyes widening as she realized the contents. Silver and copper coins glinted in the early morning light, more money than she’d ever seen in one place.

“Bran, I can’t take this,” she whispered, trying to hand the pouch back.

He shook his head. “It’s enough for you to live on for a little while, in the worst case. Or if you need to purchase things to survive. It’s not too much.”

Lys hesitated for a moment before slipping the pouch into her shirt, securing it in the internal pocket and tying it closed. The weight of the coins felt strange against her chest.

Bran sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Avoid people as much as possible until you get to Silverpines and find Uncle. People aren’t always as nice as they are in the village.”

A choked laugh escaped Lys’s throat. “The people in the village aren’t nice.”

“I know,” Bran said.

Jorg approached them, his pack already slung over his shoulder. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking between them.

“I have to do something first, give me a few minutes,” Lys said, turning to walk around the cottage.

She climbed the hill to her father’s grave, kneeling beside the weathered stone. “I’m finally leaving,” she whispered, “just not how I ever expected.” She traced the letters of her father’s name, etched deep into the rock.

With a last glance at the grave, Lys returned to Bran and Jorg.

“Ready now?” Jorg asked, his voice gruff.

Lys nodded, squaring her shoulders.

“We’ll cut through the fields to avoid going through the village and drawing notice,” Jorg said, gesturing for her to follow.

“If anyone asks, you’re going to Heartlehelm,” Bran added. “That’s the story.”

Lys nodded again, committing the lie to memory. They had just started into the long grass when the sound of running footsteps made them turn.

Lysandra turned to see Elie running towards her, looking frantic. Relief washed over Elie’s face as she came to a stop, puffing from the exertion. She threw her arms around Lys, hugging her tightly.

“I can’t believe what happened,” Elie said, her voice muffled against Lys’s shoulder.

Lys hugged her back, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness at the unexpected farewell. Elie squeezed her once more before pulling back, holding out a small wooden amulet.

“Take this, for protection,” Elie said, pressing the amulet into Lys’s hand.

Lys looked down at the carved wood, feeling the smooth surface beneath her fingers. “Thank you,” she whispered, closing her hand around the gift.

Jorg shifted impatiently, and Lys noticed his restlessness. She hugged Elie again, whispering, “Please, take care of my brother.”

Elie glanced up at the cottage where Bran stood watching the exchange. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she met his gaze. “I will,” she promised.

The light of dawn grew stronger, threatening to break over the horizon. Jorg cleared his throat. “We should go,” he said.

Lys nodded, stepping back from Elie. “Goodbye,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

She turned to follow Jorg. They made their way around the village, which was still quiet. Partway around Jorg veered left, cutting towards the outer road that led into the village.

And out of it.

Lys followed slightly behind and to the side, adjusting her pack as they walked.

“It will take us at least a week to get to Silverpines,” Jorg said, glancing back at her.

“Do you think the weather will stay good?” Lys asked, looking up at the sky.

Jorg grunted. “During the spring, there’s no telling what it will do. It could even snow us in.”

Lys swallowed, nodding. She silently thanked Bran for the supplies he had packed for her. “I have some dried meat rations,” she said, patting her pack.

Jorg grunted again. “Good.” He eyed her pack, a hint of surprise in his expression. “I’m surprised you can carry a heavy load like that.”

“I’m used to carrying things everywhere,” Lys said, shrugging.

Jorg nodded. “And going up and down hills.”

“That too,” Lys agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the circumstances.