Learning how to manipulate the enchantment turned out to be remarkably quick, only a few minutes in total, mostly just practice. Thankfully the magic translating speech for me covered the keywords and the mental image, literally what I’d seen on the blade when I drew it, that controlled the transition from sword to stick and back again. A moon emerging from clouds transitioned stick to sword and the reverse held true as expected.

  While we waited for breakfast, Cailleach started relating what I quickly recognized as basic intelligence and counter-intelligence practices. By the time we broke camp that morning, she and I had gone back and forth a number of times, mostly me trying to save us time by highlighting what I knew and her filling in the gaps as we went along. That conversation continued off and on for the rest of the day whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  Over the next several days, the convoy stopped only for a meal while the sun remained high in the sky. Time slipped by and I found myself spending more time off the cart than on, either going forward with Cailleach or simply walking alongside the convoy to free up space for others to rest. It didn’t take long for Tomas to quickly follow suit.

  Every night, the forward element would find a place the convoy could circle up into, pickets would get posted, and I’d turn in a little earlier than everyone else. Cailleach would join me some time afterward, and we’d mentally unspool by talking over whatever came to mind. Eventually, sleep would take us.

  I woke on the sixth day much the same as I had all the others, save I knew today was the last day I’d know the comfort of having a wagon waiting for me if I needed respite from the walk. In a few hours, we’d arrive at the rim and shortly after that Fiddler’s Green. Still, as eager as I was to see this leg of the journey done, I was in no hurry to stir. Cailleach’s presence against me had become comforting in its own way, but more than that, I still ached from the last few days.

  Most forward elements simply paced the convoy a decent distance off to the sides, but the lead element served triple duty as screening force, pathfinder, and trailblazer. Not being a stranger to machete or hatchet use, when I realized what was going on I had quickly volunteered to help, which meant more eyes peering forward and fewer pointed at the trail, worrying how the convoy would navigate it. Though somewhat hesitant at first, the militia certainly came to appreciate the help.

  Not long after I woke, Cailleach stirred. Once she finished her morning stretches, she offered to take another look at my hands and feet, both of which had been accumulating spots that would become blisters if given half a chance.

  The first time she’d done this, she had eyed the little moleskin patches I’d used and asked what they were. Mildly amused at my answer, she’d removed them and applied some sort of ointment that smelled heavily of mint and a fresh spring rain. Each application left a tingling sensation for several minutes, but by the time the feeling ebbed little evidence remained of the thick, oily substance.

  Unlike the previous times, instead of packing the jar back into her pack, she handed it to me.

  I looked at the jar in my hands for a few seconds before she added, “Just in case you have to leave quickly. It’s only effective before blisters form, so don’t waste it. Your little strips of skin would be the better choice then, whatever these supposed moles of yours are.”

  We both smiled at the same time. I’d tried to explain it wasn’t made of real skin the first time, but it stuck as some sort of inside joke between the two of us somehow. As appreciated as her thoughtfulness was, it made me realize that if I didn’t ask now, I might not have the opportunity to ask a question that had been floating about for days at that point.

  “Cailleach, who is Lady Badb?”

  Her fingers momentarily paused on the belt strap she was tightening. “Depends who you ask.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Her head came up and the fact she checked to see how many people were up was unmistakable. Focused as I was on her face, I almost missed the intricate finger movements she made with the hand she normally kept free. The damp morning air suddenly stilled.

  “When Neit sacrificed himself to end the Age of Dragons, he left duties behind, unfulfilled. Some, new gods became and took on. Some, His brothers and sisters shouldered. Lady Badb was one of us. She tread the same paths, had the same worries, the same dreams as all of us. One fateful day, she came across a remnant of Neit’s last fight against the skyward host. She lifted that dagger and found some part of Neit had remained part of it. When she accepted its power, she became burdened with terrible purpose.

  “Ever since, she has served the Syr, guiding us through shadow and storm, across the riverlands and mountains. Wherever our feet tread, so does Lady Badb. Wherever our enemies lurk, so does Lady Badb. When the Syr need her aid, they have but a simple task: ring the bell of Duty. Her servants will answer the call. Some duties can only be glimpsed by the light of the moon, not borne by those who walk in the comfort of day.”

  Cailleach’s fingers twitched once more, the air clearing as she tilted her head, smiling. “So the stories claim, anyway. They were myth when my grandfather’s grandfather was still a boy, so who can say? If any knew the truth, they’d not speak it under the light of day where needless ears and careless mouths could repeat it.”

  When she turned back to securing her pack, I sat there transfixed by the clarity, the absolute certainty that had filled her voice, filled her eyes, right up until she dispelled whatever effect she’d cast. Deciphering that non-answer would have to wait. There were too many possibilities, some of which I could no longer rule out off-hand as the insane rantings of a cultist now that gods well and truly existed. Only one thing was amply clear: I’d get no more from her, at least for now. Maybe Aoife might know more?

  We finished preparing in silence, ate our fill when the cooks called, helped clean and stow everything, and then set off like we had the last few days.

  So focused on clearing a path for the wagons as I had become, when I emerged from the forest’s edge at the start of the scree at the crater rim, I could do little bit shield my eyes and blink at the comparatively barren rise.

  “Won’t be long now,” Aoife said as she came up beside me.

  I glanced behind me and scanned our surroundings. Spotting the skyway I had descended from on our first visit only took a few seconds. Our screening elements had all stopped at the forest’s edge and showed no indication they intended to continue onward.

  It took a second for things to slot into place in my head. As commander, Aoife wouldn’t leave the convoy unless absolutely necessary, but we were not far from our destination and an armed force would likely be received poorly without some sort of introduction.

  I turned my attention to Aoife, who was looking at me expectantly, smiling. “So it seems.”

  She cast her eyes to the top of the rise. “Just focus on what we’re here for and all will be fine.”

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  “Like some passable mead?”

  She barked a sharp laugh. “Passable mead, indeed. From your lips to the Goddess’s ear, so let it be.”

  We set off together.

  Just short of the crest, an errant breeze picked up from the direction of the Green and blew down into the crater. Both of us stopped in our tracks, eyes narrowed. Aoife cast a glance in my direction I acknowledged with a nod. I pulled the strap holding the rifle against my shoulder as I took my next step and we doubled our speed.

  The wind can carry many scents around human settlements. Considering it would certainly be far more common for villages in this era, the scent of death of death alone was no great cause for concern. Mixed in with everything else, many people could miss it or simply not identify it for what it was. Veterans, on the other hand, know the scent of dead people all too well and can pick it out from much further than most would believe.

  As we crested the rise, I canted off a little and brought my rifle up. At 4x, standard ACOG magnification wasn’t a complete replacement for a good set of binoculars or a drone overhead, both of which I had back with the rest of my gear on the convoy, but it certainly was better than nothing.

  It took me a few seconds to parse what I saw. As strong as death had been on the wind, I’d expected to see bodies, lots of bodies; maybe the eighty I’d left over a week ago, but possibly those of the townspeople as well. Instead, my eyes were greeted with several dozen people and the palisade wall they were building along the outer edge of the Green. Several carts of clean logs sat waiting to be unloaded from the cart they’d been piled onto.

  Once recognition set in, within a heartbeat I saw one of the workmen point in our direction. Heads turned and the crew scattered. Some picked up weapons, pikes that had been clearly laid out earlier, but as a whole they retreated to the edge of their construction with the bulk of them running into the Green.

  “What do you see?”

  I lowered the rifle to find Aoife looking back at me. “Someone’s building a stockade around the village.”

  Her face darkened. “Are they friendly?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t tell. They spotted us and retreated. Some are definitely armed now. Looked like villagers, but it’s not like I’m an expert on that.”

  Still walking, Aoife turned her eyes to the Green. “Well, this is a wonderful way to start the day, isn’t it? Rowan told me about that weapon of yours before we left. Could you hit people from here?”

  I checked the view through my ACOG before answering, comparing how tall they were to the reticle to get a precision guess at the range. “I’d prefer to be closer, but I could, yes.”

  After a few more steps, Aoife came to a halt with her attention directed off a little to one side. “Great.”

  My eyes followed to where I presumed her attention lay and for a second I saw nothing. Then motion drew my eye. Not terribly far from us, a single stake had been hammered into the dirt, barely visible against the surrounding scrub. The short length of thin, red cloth fluttering atop it in the breeze had given it away.

  “Fuck,” I blurted out, my feet now firmly rooted to the rocky soil. It took me several now-rapid heartbeats to dismiss what my brain initially identified it as, a few more to force myself to calm, and a another handful to come up with a better explanation. Not a minefield, those are ranging stakes.

  “Did you happen to see any sort of construct deeper in?” Aoife asked calmly, almost nonchalantly. “Something not a shed or house?”

  “What? Like siege equipment?” I asked, hefting my rifle to my shoulder once more to scan the village. “I can’t see anything beyond the wall other than roofs. If these stakes aren’t a bluff, it’d be something relatively short when loaded, like a catapult. Trebuchets are way too fucking tall to hide.”

  Aoife snorted and surveyed the area behind us. “Too tall? Not the ones I’ve seen. Rowan said the citizens of the Green were mostly farmhands and retired mercenaries.”

  “Maybe some formerly well-paid siege engineer decided to fuck off out this way when the money stopped being good?” I asked. “Could still be a bluff.”

  Aoife grunted and shook her head. “I see at least eight stakes, uniform spacing coming from the center of the village if my guess is close. I’m not going to take that bet with that many stakes laid out. How about we wait right here until the welcoming party comes out.”

  “I’m perfectly fine—” Motion in the optics caught my eye. I spotted a head low over a roof. Whoever it was had something akin to a spyglass. “Yeah, perfectly fine with that idea. I don’t think it’s a bluff anymore. They have a spotter.”

  After sinking to a kneeling position, I kept a wary eye on the village as the seconds passed. After a minute, a handful of people emerged from the gap in the wall and started moving the lumber-laden carts inside. “On the plus side, almost everything that comes to mind isn’t terribly accurate at this range.”

  Aoife chuckled. “They only need to be accurate enough, once.”

  “Fair. Probably not a good idea to volunteer as a practice target.”

  Minutes passed.

  Dark figures emerged from the gap in the wall. “I’ve got movement. Looks like a dozen people. Chain, mostly.”

  “Weapons?”

  “A few of them have swords. At least one has an axe on their belt. Pair of archers, maybe?”

  A few seconds passed while the new arrivals came our way.

  “Sam, if things turn for the worse, fall back to the rim and alert the convoy. Don’t stay for my sake.”

  It was my turn to snort as I assumed a proper prone firing position. “And leave you here? It’ll be a cold day in hell. I’ve got enough ammunition to take the whole crew down in half a magazine, maybe eight seconds, tops. Once they’re down, we’ll both fall back.”

  Sounding almost bored, Aoife added, “If they’re hostile.”

  “Yeah, if they’re hostile,” I echoed, snugging myself up behind the rifle. As much as I hate dangling shit off my rifle, when this is over I’m digging the bipod out.

  Eyeballing each person in turn, the one in the middle seemed a little familiar, if only because of the way he walked. When the entire group stopped and the man raised his helmet’s faceplate, I knew exactly who he was. “Aoife, they’re friendly. Guy in the middle is the mayor.”

  I looked up to see Aoife standing over me, hand extended. “Praise be to the Goddess, Samuel.”

  I grinned and got up enough to take her hand. Once I got my gear squared away and the rifle back in its stirrup, I waved to the other group. When they waved back, we started forward.

  Once we were maybe thirty yards away, I raised my voice. “Mayor Adermann, it’s been a while. I hope you don’t mind if I brought a friend.”

  The old man chuckled. “So it has. I almost didn’t expect to see you again, and we certainly would never turn down guests. It’s been some time since we’ve had the honor of a visiting Harvester. I’m Albert, Miss, and you are?”

  Aoife responded with a polite nod. “Aoife.”

  The mayor made a short bow and gestured to the village behind him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Aoife of the Lonely Glade. Both of you are welcome to join us. Please excuse our recent construction. Things have changed since your last visit, Samuel.”

  While I joined the mayor as he turned about, I noticed Aoife’s knife hand didn’t stray terribly far from the hilt at her belt. “Do tell.”

  “Well, not long after you left we had some rather stuffy visitors who laid claim to those bodies you left us. Seemed rather put off by the matter. Not terribly attentive to their duties, either. I know I promised to retain the spoils for you, but sadly they got most of them. Not all, but most.”

  “Anything you could use?”

  The mayor glanced over at me with a wry grin. “Perhaps, but they’re yours by right.”

  “Only technically. Aoife is here to see what can be done about that. Speaking of which, we have some friends who should be navigating the rim soon. They’ll wait a healthy distance out until called, so pay them no mind.”

  The mayor nodded and as we passed through the gap, he said, “No sense beating around the bush. What does the Glade intend to do with us, Harvester Aoife?”

  Aoife didn’t even try to hide the fact she was eying every inch of the village as we passed by. “I’m told Samuel made a rather passionate case to Lady Rowan concerning the loyalties of the Green. I’ve been ordered to take stock of what I find here and see if we can’t come to some sort of understanding. Assuming we do, I’m to use the men assigned to me to prepare what defense can be accomplished, but honestly, it seems you’ve got that well in hand from what little I’ve seen so far.”

  Our pace slowed as we approached the first set of side streets.

  “Sergeant, go tell those lazy gits to get back to work,” Albert ordered. “Everybody else, back to your posts. Oh, and Tarl? Go tell Irrik he should expect guests shortly. If he asks how many, tell him two for now, but be ready to clear out the regulars if need be.”

  As the rest of the group dispersed, the mayor turned to us with a smile. “Well, if you’ve brought men, I suppose I should show you to the former Lord’s garrison. It still stands, though the gateworks could use some repairs.”

  The memory of the remains of the gate after reality carved a sideways Dodge Dakota out of it brought a smirk to my face.

  Not long passed before I recognized the side street we were on. It joined the main street leading to the garrison up ahead. “Uh, Albert, a question if you don’t mind.”

  “Feel free, Mr. Byrne.”

  “The wind shifted while we were climbing the rise, and I got a nose full of some remarkably foul business.”

  “Oh, that. You’ll see here in a moment.”