“Make sure you don’t hit any of our people,” Otec said. He met Dobber’s gaze in another of the boats, and the man looked quickly away.
The Idarans noticed them shortly thereafter. They were close enough now, and there was just enough light for Otec to distinguish his people from the Idarans. A Raider in one of the boats stood up. It was Tyleze. “You come near us,” he shouted, “and we’ll start killing them.”
Otec stared at the Raiders in disbelief. He should have realized they would try this, should have planned better. But he’d never imagined men evil enough to kill unarmed women and children.
For the second time, Otec looked into his family members’ eyes. Holla pointed wildly toward the shore. “There are Raiders on the cliffs!” A Raider on the boat jumped on her, but Aldi and Wesson rammed the man in unison. “You have to warn them, Otec. You have to!” Holla shouted.
Otec shook his head. “I have to save you, Holla! I have to save all of you!”
“Otec,” Matka said as she peered through her telescope. “She’s right. There are Idarans scaling the cliffs.”
“What?”
“Hundreds of them.” She handed Otec the telescope so he could see for himself. “The camp is still asleep. If they attack now . . .”
“And the main army attacks from the east . . .” Destin trailed off.
“The effects would be devastating,” Matka finished for him.
Slowly lowering the telescope, Otec gazed at his family. Tyleze held a knife to Holla’s throat. “You decide, clanman. Do they live or die?”
Otec locked gazes with each of his siblings in turn, Storm last of all. She picked something up and gently pulled back the wrapping to reveal the face of a baby.
Otec was an uncle. He still didn’t know if the child was a boy or a girl. “What would you have me do, Storm? You tell me, and I’ll do it.”
The Raiders made no move to stop her from speaking, but they drew their swords and stood over her. “It’s too late for us, Otec. And if you don’t stop them, there won’t be a Shyle for any of you to go back to.”
Her words shattered his frozen heart into a thousand pieces. “Storm . . .”
She gave him a gentle smile. “Sometimes you have to lose a sheep to save the flock,” she said through her tears. The other women in the boat called out similar sentiments, begging the men to go.
From his own boat, Otec heard crying and turned to see tears streaming down Ivar’s ruddy cheeks. Otec’s gaze shifted to his fellow clanmen and came to rest on Destin. “What do we do?”
“Is it not better that the Raiders kill them now,” Destin said, “rather than letting them live on as slaves?”
“No,” Matka answered without looking up from the water speeding past the boat. “For their children will be free.” She met Destin’s gaze. “Besides, could you live with yourself if you were the reason they were murdered?”
He winced and then slowly shook his head. “No.”
“I say we go after them,” Dobber shouted from one of the other boats. Some of the other men roared their agreement. “We might be able to save some.”
“Otec, you must decide now or it will be too late,” Matka said.
“Lose a sheep. Save the herd,” he murmured to himself. Suddenly, he realized he truly was the clan chief. Right now, he had to be a leader. Had to put the fate of entire clans before the fate of a few dozen individuals. Even if that decision tore out his heart and destroyed him.
He glanced up at each of his siblings in turn. “I’m sorry,” he cried, falling to the deck and bruising his knees. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Be a good clan chief.” Storm said through her sobs. “Make it better than it was.”
“I will,” Otec promised as he gripped the edge of the boat, hanging on as if his life depended on it.
Tyleze eased his knife away from Holla’s throat. “I love you!” she cried. “Never forget!”
Tyleze hauled her to Storm and set her down, then ordered his crew to make for the armada. Otec stared at his sisters until the details of their faces were lost to the distance. Stared at them as they lost their distinct forms, becoming indistinguishable from one another. Stared until he lost them—his family.
Then he turned his back on his sisters, on the women of their village. “We need to figure out a way to alert the army. And we need to take out those Raiders.”
Destin rested a hand on Otec’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
Otec could only nod.
“We can handle the Raiders,” Ake said as he and his brother tugged out their bows.
“They’ll make good target practice,” Arvid agreed.
“I can use fire arrows to signal your clanmen,” Matka said. “They’ll see them and know something is wrong.”
Otec grunted in approval. He turned to face the dozen boats following him. “Aim for the men you can hit. When you run out of arrows, use your slings.”
As the cliffs came closer, he measured wind and distance. He’d never shot anything from a boat, but it couldn’t be much different than a moving horse. He’d just fire at the top of the swell.
When they were within range, Otec cast one last glance in the direction his siblings had disappeared. And then he turned away, pulled back his bow, sighted along the shaft, and released. The other men in the boats did the same, dropping Raiders from the cliffs like spiders. But soon the clanmen ran out of arrows.
Halfed ran the boats aground. Otec used the momentum in his leap, landing in the water with a splash that soaked his heavy boots. He sloshed to shore and snatched up handfuls of rocks. He took out his sling and let stone after stone fly—he was a pretty good shot, as one never ran out of stones in the Shyle.
Matka crouched down to gather driftwood. Then she dumped it into a pile and attacked it with sparks from her flint and striker. The moment she had a flame going, she wrapped her five reserved arrows in shredded bark and tied it off in a messy knot. She pulled a small pouch from her pocket and sprinkled the powder over the bark. “If this is the last time I’ll ever see your flames, Goddess, let them burn bright.”
Matka drew back her bow and sent the arrow up over the rim of the cliff, the flames trailing behind like a multicolored comet. “I’d like to see your clanmen miss that,” she said.
When the clanmen saw the arrows, they’d know someone was down on the beach. They would come to investigate and would find the Raiders trying to sneak up on them.
She sent off five arrows in all, directing them over the cliff to burn where all could see. The Idarans on the cliffs began to panic. Those closer to the top continued climbing up. Those nearer the bottom started back down.
Otec and his men continued to send stones at them until the Raiders at the base of the cliffs began firing arrows back. He hauled Matka behind him and held out his shield. An arrow thudded into it, piercing through. Otec almost ordered the boys to go in the boats and stay out of range, but then he remembered what it felt like to be left behind and kept his mouth shut.
“Nice of them to share,” Destin said with a crazed grin as he began picking off the arrows and firing them back.
Otec surveyed the growing gathering of Raiders at the base of the cliffs and knew he had to charge them and wipe them out before his men were outnumbered. “Axes!” he called out.
The clanmen put away their slings and hauled out their axes. This time he did meet the boys’ gazes. “Stay back,” Otec ordered. “Honor to the Shyle!” he cried as they charged.
Sprinting across the rocky beach, Otec sidestepped a thrust and chopped through a Raider’s block to land the axe in his face. He stepped past the man to meet the next. Matka danced beside him, keeping his left flank secure, while Destin took up his right. Otec blocked a swipe of one sword, stomped on the low-swinging second blade, and head-butted the Idaran, who staggered back. Otec kicked him down and buried his axe in the man’s chest.
A cry came from Otec’s right and he turned to see Destin staggeri
ng back, blood gushing from his leg. Otec took a step to help him, but Matka was there first. Gritting his teeth, Otec gave ground. “Tighten up!” A Raider’s sword slipped through his shield, piercing his arm and making it go numb. His blood made the grip slippery.
Another sword pierced his legs. With a roar, he ducked behind his shield and charged, knocking over three men. Matka and Destin finished them off. Otec kicked one in the temple and chopped at the other two.
A man fell screaming from the cliffs, landing on the Raider who was fighting Otec. Now both Raiders lay still and broken. Otec glanced up to see Raiders being thrown or shoved off the cliffs. “Retreat!” he cried to his men, having no desire to be crushed.
He ran over the rocky shore, his boots soggy and his arm numb. When he turned back, his clanmen were cheering from the tops of the cliffs. The men of the Shyle charged back in quickly dispatched any remaining Raiders.
When the last of them were taken care of, Otec turned to Matka. “Do you trust me?”
She turned to see the clanmen tossing down long ropes. He grabbed one and made to tie it around her waist so they could haul her up. “Oh, no,” she said, face going ashen. “Not again.”
He took hold of her hand. “Come on. I promise I won’t let you fall.”
Arms trembling, Otec hauled himself over the cliff and turned to heave Matka up. She staggered a couple steps and then lay face-down on the ground, arms spread as if hugging the rocks.
He watched to make sure their six injured were hauled up safely. He shook out his numb and burning hands and searched the faces around him, his eyes watering at the brisk wind. The Reisen clan chief, Gen, marched up to them, bloody axe in hand. “Where’s Hargar?”
Otec’s jaw tightened at the mention of his father. “I’m Clan Chief Otec, his oldest living son.”
For a moment, Gen seemed incapable of speaking, but then he muttered under his breath, “Cursed Raiders.” He seemed to shake himself as he looked over their ragged band. “Can you fight?”
Otec didn’t have to ask his men to know their answer. “After some rest and food, yes. I’ve six injured who need to be cared for.” He figured most of them would live.
Gen nodded. “I can give you food, and an easy assignment for rest. The Cors and what few Argons we have are holding the front lines, but we need to spell them.”
Matka gasped. “Wait!” She pushed herself to her feet. “The Idarans will have something else planned. They always do.”
Gen looked her over like she was a beetle in one of his barrels of rye. “You’re one of them.”
Otec moved in front of her, and the Argon boys immediately stepped up next to him. “She was their slave,” Otec said firmly. “Without her help, the Shyle would be gone, and possibly the whole of the clan lands as well.”
Gen motioned to his men. “Tie her up. I don’t want her signaling the rest of them.”
Destin stepped up beside the Argon boys. “I suppose you don’t need the Shyle’s help after all.”
Otec shot Destin an appreciative glance and noticed the rest of his men had tightened up and were staring Gen down.
“Fine,” Gen growled. “But she’s not fighting with us. We’ve killed enough Raiders posing as highmen—we’d hardly notice one more.” He took a step back and pointed to a tent. “There’s food and water there. Take what you need. Quickly.”
The Shyle clanmen bunched around Otec, forming a phalanx of protection around Matka. He strode toward the tent, nearly a hundred of his men around him.
“And Otec,” Gen called out. Otec looked back. “Make sure she stays there.”
Otec didn’t respond. They filed through the tent door. It was a relief to be out of the wind, even if it was steamy inside the tent. There was rye gruel, beer, and boiled vegetables. He took a huge helping of each, sat on the ground, and bolted the food down before he could taste any of it.
Matka sat beside him, but instead of eating, she tended to his wounds. “Matka . . .” he began.
“It’s all right. I saw a tent for the wounded, and I’d rather be there, healing instead of injuring. I’ll make sure your clanmen are looked after.”
Otec shifted uncomfortably on the rocky ground. “I don’t like it.”
She tipped her head to look up at him. “They’d be fools to trust me.” She reached into her pack and handed him her telescope. “Find the high ground and keep your eyes open.”
“Matka, could you go after them?” he asked carefully.
“I’ve thought about it,” she whispered. “I am known to many people in Idara. If I go back, it will be to my death. But if you ask it of me, I will.”
Otec closed his eyes. “No.” There was no use, not if she would die.
Gen appeared at the tent flap. “Shyle, time to go.”
Otec pushed to his feet. The ground seemed to pitch under him as he struggled to stave off a wave of exhaustion. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
Matka rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one marching into battle.”
Yes, but she was surrounded by people who thought she was the enemy. He reached back and squeezed her hand before striding outside. It was nearly dawn now. Light enough to see the heated battle in the middle of a field of crushed grain.
As Otec walked with him through the tents, Gen explained, “My men and I will push to the front—the Raiders have been concentrating on punching through our middle—and the Argons and Cors will gradually fall back as we replace them.
“I’ll post you there, on that high ground.” Gen pointed to a steep hill topped by a tumbling of rocks and boulders surrounded by a stretch of trees, the foliage the rusty red of old blood. “Those men have been up there since midday yesterday. The Raiders have been foolish enough to rush it a few times. But they’re easily repelled with slings and bows.”
Otec agreed, grateful his men wouldn’t be thrown right into the thick of battle. He gestured for them to follow and started up the incline.
Gen reached out, taking hold of Otec’s arm. “If you lose that hill, our whole north flank will be exposed.”
Otec nodded and Gen let him go. Otec climbed the rocky ground. In the forest, he noticed the trees had crusty boils across their surface—some type of blight, perhaps. He walked on the corpses of the diseased leaves, feeling blisters starting in his wet boots.
He and his men crossed behind the Reisen holding the front, until they reached the knobby hill, its twin on the other side of a field of rye. The Reisen greeted them gratefully, showed them where the artillery was, and departed with heavy steps.
Otec surveyed the area, which was covered in a scattering of boulders, most just big enough to provide cover for a man to lie behind. They would make it easily defendable.
While the men of the Shyle spread out among the rocks and boulders, getting comfortable and wringing saltwater from their boots, Otec braced himself against the wind on a boulder just taller than a man and perched precariously on two smaller boulders. He pulled out Matka’s telescope. Nervous after her warning, he searched the forest along the sides of the hill, and below that, the field of golden rye that should have long since been harvested. It had already dropped much of the grain. And it was dropping more, leaving the precious food on the ground to rot.
Otec stared at the stalks, which were taller than a man. Something was wrong. They should be shifting with the wind in wave-like patterns. But this looked more like a hail of pebbles scattered across the still surface of a pond.
“Destin!” he called. The man looked up from where he was wringing saltwater from the felt liner of his boots. “Come here!”
Destin shoved his feet in and pushed over to Otec’s side, taking the telescope from his hands. “I don’t see anything.”
“The rye—it’s moving wrong.” Matka’s warning pounding against his memory, Otec took the telescope and rested his gaze on the sickly trees. It was eerily quiet. “And the forest.”
“I don’t see anything there either,” Destin said.
“
That’s what’s wrong. There should at least be birds flitting about.” Otec lowered the telescope. “Send the twins after the men who just left. I want them back here. And send Ivar to the Reisen down the line. We’re surrounded on two sides and we need reinforcements.”
“Gen said his men easily repelled their attack before.” Destin took a step closer. “They won’t pull men from the front lines, not when they’re under heavy attack.”
Otec’s gaze shifted between the trees and the rye, thinking of the cliffs he’d just climbed. “The plan was to position men at our flanks, making our front lines bulge forward. They’ll surround us, cut us off, and finish this.”
It was brilliant. And it would work if he didn’t move fast. Destin was already backing away. “Otec, are you sure?”
He didn’t bother answering but dropped from the boulder, his blisters popping and fluid oozing around his heels. He grabbed the Argon boy’s shoulders and gave orders himself.
Then he moved among his men, saying, “Take defensive positions among these rocks, and set yourself up with arrows and stones. But don’t hurry. We don’t want to push them into attacking us yet—we’ll be overrun if they do.”
Finally, Destin nodded and started gathering up more men. And then they waited.
Ivar came back first. “Gen says to calm down. A hundred men have held this hill for a week.”
Otec ground his teeth. “That’s because the Raiders let him hold this hill.”
The twins came back again, a hundred grumbling Reisen trailing behind them. A grizzled man took hold of Otec’s shirt. “Listen, boy, you might be a clan chief, but my axe has killed more Raiders than—”
Otec shoved him away. “Your men will move into position around these rocks. And you will do it now!”
The man stepped back, glaring at him. “We haven’t eaten since midday last.”
“Now,” Otec said as he eased his axe from his belt.
The man looked at the axe, then back at Otec. The man at his side took hold of his arm. “Ymir, he outranks you.”
Ymir shook him off. “Gen will have you to the beating pole for this, clan chief or not.”