Three knocks rang from the door. Silence answered. Following the silence sounded three knocks more. The door unlocked, and slowly creaked open. The head of an older boy stuck out sheepishly in answer.
“I’m sorry,” said the visitor. “I must have the wrong room.”
The boy rushed to close the door, before being interrupted by a tired female voice.
“Whadaya want?”
“Torva? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Is it important?”
“Yes, very.”
“Alright, come in…”
The man at the door let himself in, making the boy jump out of his way. He was surprised to see the boy mostly naked, and clearly embarrassed. He found two more in the room’s bed, vainly attempting to cover their shame with the bed’s blankets. Torva’s head lay between them, unable or unwilling to muster the energy to rise. The man stood in awkward silence for a few moments.
“Well?” she asked, not bothering to raise her head.
The man gave an awkward cough, before delivering his message.
“The scouts you sent have come back with news. They found a group matching your description heading this way. They will be here within a day’s time.”
“Freaking finally. I thought they gave up,” Torva said to the ceiling. She lifted her torso to face her visitor before speaking again. She gave no attempt to cover herself as her sheets fell off her. “Tell the boss guy to ready the boys. He should know the drill by now.”
The messenger hid a disapproving tone as he spoke. “And you, miss?”
“I’ll be with him in a while,” she replied. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”
The messenger didn’t give a reply. He turned and left. As he did, Torva swung her body off the bed, and grabbed her clothes. Before he exited, he heard her knock on her closet door.
“Get out of here. I’ve gotta get to work.”
He heard two more boys come out from hiding. He shut the door behind him and left the girl to her devices.
Zorael looked down on the town, and found himself impressed. In a few short weeks, the town had become much more defensible than when he first entered it with Torva. A minimalistic, but efficient, fence surrounded the village made of sharpened tree logs, pointed outward. Along with that, simple guard towers rose at the village’s corners, allowing a small group of men to keep watch over weaknesses in the fence, and signal flares allowed them to quickly communicate to other parts of the village. Half of the town’s defenses were at the gate’s only opening, inviting any invaders to their deaths. The rest of the defenders, and the rest of the town’s inhabitants, were in the town’s center. The civilians stayed in the central buildings, where they were most easily defended. The reserve troops surrounded these buildings to best defend them, and to most easily move to a new location should any of their defenses be breached.
It wasn’t the most well prepared village he’s seen, but for the short amount of notice it had, it built up fairly strongly.
While admiring the village, he spotted his body leaving her hotel. Torva walked to the head of defense, dressed in her armor and holding her lance. He whispered to her heart as he walked with her.
“A young woman should be careful with her body. That’s not a safe situation you put yourself in.”
“Those kids couldn’t do anything if they wanted to. Relax, I was safe the whole time.”
She answered more literally. It was a bad habit she picked up who knows when. She could have thought the words, or simply felt them, and Zorael would have picked up on them. But she said them out loud. Maybe she wasn’t sure he would hear her otherwise. Maybe she just felt important when listeners asked who she was speaking to. But at any rate, besides the occasional odd glance, the system they had worked well enough. And they were both used to the occasional odd glance for other matters anyway.
“Those ‘kids’ are older than you are.”
“ ’still kids.”
“And what does that make you?”
“A well seasoned warrior. Relax dad, I’ve got this under control.”
They arrived at the town’s main police building during their discussion. Torva spoke with the sheriff about all last minute preparations. Zorael chimed in when he could, and was mostly ignored. Before long, they finished, and Torva left. She head to the central gates, lance slung over her shoulders.
“You could leave the defenses to the militia. You may be more useful behind lines.”
“Not a chance.”
She arrived at the front gates to see a fair sized squad in waiting. They were geared and on time, but this hardly looked like a battle line.
Torva would fix this.
“Alright boys, line up. Each axe wielding maniac who passes through that gate is one who’ll skewer your mother. You wanna be the one who let him through?”
After a quick glace, the men moved to their positions. They stood in a semi-circle around the gate, and continued their lollygagging. Torva’s eyebrow raised in annoyance.
“For the love of… Eyes forward, weapons ready. Get into your stances. They could be here any second, and they’d have plenty of time to skewer you.
There, that almost looks like a defense line! Hey you, move over. You’re in my spot.”
She shoved someone in the middle aside and stepped in his place. She stood directly in front of the gate, having a great view out into the forest.
“You’re fighting with us, miss?” asked the misplaced defender.
“Yeah. Someone’s gotta show you boys how it’s done.”
She got into a deep stance, ready to lunge forward or back at a moment’s notice. She held her lance loosely in her hands in a thrusting position. Her eyes burned forward, searching the shade of the trees for any movement. Those around her copied her motions.
She whispered into the air: “You’ve got my back, right?”
She was answered simultaneously by the men around her, and from her heart. “Yes”
Bells rang from the guard towers on either side of her. The scouts have spotted movement in the brush. They shouted warnings, but their words were muffled by their distance.
The soldiers next to Torva stood in nervous attention. Torva dropped lower and twisted a smile.
Connect With Us