It was an incredibly windy day, and their fourth in the town of Logren. The sandstorm relented after noon and Vaenuth sent Crann with two of their wagons and most of her workers in the direction of the lead quarry. They had carefully planned instructions to deposit the contents of those wagons near the horizon-obstructing boulder two hours out of town. And then they were to return.
Everything went according to plan. Vaenuth and Elli hosted a feast for the inhabitants of Logren. As soon as Vaenuth saw Hawth enter the house they held the meal in, Vaenuth exited out the back door and met Tagg in the street nearby. Banno and Pressip were both staying with their hosts to alleviate any suspicions. Tagg led the way, though they both knew it well—two rights, straight through, a left, and another straight stretch to the smithy. Crann had already brought the two wagons through the most deserted stretch of town and he stood with them, waiting anxiously for Vaenuth’s arrival.
They found a wheelbarrow at the side of Hawth’s workshop, and quickly began removing white lead from the unlocked storehouse. It was slow work, and they all got a score of scratches and a chalk-like dust all over them.
They finished loading up one of the wagons and Crann tossed a canvas over it. They had set aside some of their original trade goods in a nearby store that had been long abandoned, Tagg started carrying those over to top up the wagon and conceal the lead beneath. Vaenuth continued running the wheelbarrow with Crann, filling the second wagon.
Tagg appeared, walking around the edge of the small stone smithy with his sword out, when Vaenuth was on her return trip with lead. “I heard Banno’s voice,” he said. “Coming down the main street.”
“Curse it,” Vaenuth said, lowering the wagon. “Crann take this back. Tagg make sure all of the lead in the wagons is covered and wheel it away—any direction!”
She followed him, at a jog, back to the wagons, and it was bad.
Hawth, Mae, and four other townsfolk stood around the wagon, and Banno stood several paces away, his hands on his hips. A few of the offended party held spears, and Mae was armed with his bone-grip blade.
“That’s enough of this,” Mae barked, when he saw Vaenuth coming around the edge of the building. “Gods shame you and your descendants.”
Vaenuth glanced at Tagg, who’s sword hung by one of his legs, still drawn. She muttered, “Won’t have any of those,” to the words Mae had cursed. She had been sterilized long ago, in the whorehouse. Before her freedom.
“You and all of your group can leave now,” Mae said. He trembled with anger, even from ten paces. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. His other hand clenched in a fist. “And you’ll be leaving this wagon.”
Vaenuth stepped toward the wagon. Mae and his men stood to her right, and all that white lead to her left. Hawth stepped closer. She reached under the ore and gripped the sword hilt concealed there.
“Vae, no!” Banno shouted, but it was too late. She yanked out her sword and slashed the blacksmith from shoulder to hip. Blood splattered against her hands, and across the sand. Mae shouted incoherently and yanked out his bone-hilted blade. Banno rammed into him from behind, and the two smashed into the wagon. The sword skittered across the ground.
Tagg ran past Vaenuth’s side, his own sword flailing at the nearest villager. The man Vae had killed fell to his knees as his innards reached the earth. He didn’t croak a word. She stepped toward the next of the villagers and shouted, “Crann, get to the feast! Tell everyone to get out of town!”
The townsman she approached didn’t wait for her to finish. He yanked a knife out of his belt, though he already held a short sword. With a flourish, the knife zipped past Vaenuth, and her reacting dodge almost slid her into the dirt. She stopped her slide with one hand. Her attacker charged at her, and she shoved herself up with as much strength as she could muster. He swung from her left, but it didn’t matter. Her sword thrust through his side, and she spiraled around the right side of him, forcing his body to the ground.
She glanced up. Crann had collapsed in the dirt, blood all over his face. The throwing blade lay nearby. Lurro, having dropped the wheelbarrow he had been using, scooped up the blade and followed Vaenuth into the skirmish.
In front of them, Tagg finished off a man he had driven to his knees, dragging his sword across the man’s throat from behind and splashing crimson across the wheel of the wagon and Vaenuth’s sandals. It felt warm, but didn’t change her balance.
“Honourless dogs!” bellowed Mae, sending Banno rolling away from the wagon. Blood streaked where he rolled.
“No,” Vaenuth cried, and took a stretching slash at the big warrior. Mae stepped out of the way easily, smashed her sword down into sand and grabbed her around the throat with one hand. The skull on his chest, black and white ink, was slick with sweat. “No—” she tried to gasp, but her voice was too hoarse.
“Let her go!” shouted Lurro, and stabbed Mae in the arm with the knife.
The steel grip around her neck released and Vaenuth collapsed onto her legs, still staring heavenward. Mae turned his anger on Lurro, grabbing the man’s shoulder and stabbing him with his bone-handled blade. The sword went in once, twice, thrice—blood splattered all over the three of them, added to by Mae’s wounded arm.
Vaenuth’s small iron sword lay on the ground in front of it. She slid her fingers around it, and then, quietly, stabbed upward. The point pierced Mae’s torso above his rippling abs, sliding up into his ribcage.
He cried out, and looked down. Lurro’s ravaged corpse collapsed with the bone hilt still poking out of him. Mae’s mouth still hung open, and his eyes were full of shock. He raised his hand to strike Vaenuth, but another massive hand grabbed his forearm and a man stepped between Vaenuth and the dying leader. Banno grabbed the hilt of Vaenuth’s sword, and lifted Mae off his feet with it. When the large man stopped fighting back, Banno released the body into the dirt beside the wagon.
By the time that Vaenuth stood up, Banno was leaning on his hands, gripping the side of the wagon. He was bleeding from a surface gash on his shoulder, and his face had old bruises and new distorting its shape. “What was that?” he asked, quietly. He didn’t look at her.
“We’re taking this lead,” Vaenuth said. “Tagg…”
He was cleaning his sword on the second villager he had killed. “Yes boss?”
“Get to the feast. Even if it comes to a panicked retreat, get as many of our people out of there. Quickly,” she said. “Banno, help me load up the second wagon.”
Banno turned to look at her, while Tagg dashed away. “Load it yourself,” he said. “We’ve done questionable things on the job before, Vae, but this is…”
“This is the worst,” Vaenuth said. She was soaked, with sweat and blood. Thankfully, she hadn’t been wearing her sand robe. It would hide the red stains on the front of her white chest-wrap. “I’ll get to work then,” she said. She began rolling lead rocks into the second wagon from the wheelbarrow that Lurro had brought. It wouldn’t take much longer, maybe two or three more loads.
“What about Crann? Lurro?” Banno asked. “Have you even seen their bodies? These men just died because of your fool—”
“Of course I have,” Vaenuth said. In this mood, she had no time for Banno’s inhibitions. “Fine, if you won’t help me with the lead, put those two bodies on top of the other wagon. We’ll give them the same funeral honour we gave the ones the Slithers killed.”
He scoffed, and stared at her for a moment longer. Then he knelt to collect Lurro’s bloody remains. Vaenuth ran to fill the next wheelbarrow load. There were two hundred people in Logren, and they could easily avenge the six that lay dead here. Within ten minutes, the second wagon was loaded, and their slain were picked up.
Banno grabbed the horse’s reigns of the wagon he had been working at, and Vaenuth took the one with unhidden lead, after donning her beige outfit. They road toward the gate of the rock-walled town. There were no guards, but there were also no others from her group. Banno climbed down from his wagon bench and opened the wooden door for them to wheel the wagons out. Belmyre and their horses were already saddled outside, ready to go.
“Come on,” Vaenuth whispered. “Make it out.”
Banno said nothing, as they waited for Tagg or anyone to emerge from the town. The wind began to pick up again, and Vaenuth raised the veil of her robe to protect her eyes. Her oldest friend began cleaning the blood off of himself with a damp cloth. He tossed it to her after he looked better.
“Where are you, Tagg?” Vaenuth asked.
Pressip stepped out of the gate, leaning on a spear. He was followed by one of their hunters, and then one of the washing women. One by one, a group of wounded or dazed people emerged, and Tagg was the last of them. Vaenuth counted nine, including Tagg.
“Is this it?” she asked.
Tagg looked up at her. He had more blood on him now, but none of it seemed to be his. “They had them all tied up before they came to get us at the smithy… Had to kill a few more.”
“And all the rest of ours?” Banno asked.
“A few dead before I got there. Many just weren’t there.” Tagg started to clean himself off. “Could be they moved some of them. Like hostages. In that case, I reckon they’re dead already.”
“And you’re fine with that?” Banno questioned.
Vaenuth and Tagg turned on him. “No, I’m not fine with that,” Tagg said. “You want to come down off that wagon and I can tell you how I really—”
“That’s enough,” Vaenuth said. “We’ll sort this all out on the road. Let’s get out of here.”
Banno shook his head, then shook the reins of his wagon. Vaenuth handed off her wagon to one of the others, and mounted Belmyre. Her horse shook and pranced as she neared, ready for action. She scratched behind his ears and followed the wagons without saying a word to the survivors. After Logren, they were only eleven. Thirty had left Rainrest.