“You’re going to let us leave now,” Wilmot says. “We’re going to take the harpies and, hopefully, get them relocated before their parents attack all of us. Remember that—the longer this takes, the more likely they’ll return. Follow and interfere with us…”
“And you’ll be dealing with seven angry people and a flock of angry harpies,” Alianor says.
“Wait!” I say. “The dropbear.”
“Oh no,” Geraint says. “If you take those harpies, we’re keeping the dropbear.”
“That isn’t—”
One of the men lunges at Sarika. She’s walked too close to him, paying too little attention. His dagger plunges into her side. Alianor’s scream matches her sister’s, and in a flash, arrows and steel fly.
Geraint shouts for his men to stand down, but they’re like guard dogs kept on short chains, those chains now snapped. They attack in a frenzy as Alianor drags her injured sister away. Then two more villagers rush from the woods. They’d realized the captives were gone and come after them.
Geraint goes straight for Wilmot, identifying him as the leader. Two men come after me, but they don’t get within striking distance before Kaylein is on them, sword flashing as she fights both at once. Another villager, seeing her occupied, dashes toward me, grinning, cudgel raised as he sees himself taking down the princess of Tamarel.
Malric’s on him before I can blink. There’s another man, though, right behind, and Malric decides I can handle him…probably because he’s armed with a wooden pike. My blade slices through that in one blow. Then he yanks a knife from its sheath, and at the same moment, two more villagers come at me from either side. Kaylein backs up to help me, but she’s still fending off the first two men, both skilled fighters.
Wilmot orders retreat.
Take the harpy boxes. Take Sarika. Then retreat as fast as we can. We could still win this battle, but there’s no need—we have what we demanded. Except for Dain’s dropbear. I try saying so, but no one’s listening, and when I catch Dain’s eye, he only meets mine with a grim look and shakes his head.
We cannot stay for the dropbear.
I want to say he’s wrong, that I will get that dropbear for him, just as he rescued Jacko from drowning for me. Yet that places the safety of my people below that of a single beast. I can only make a mental promise that I will get his dropbear back, even if it means a year’s worth of allowances to buy her.
That makes me retreat faster. There’s nothing more to be gained here. This is the difference between hunters and warriors. Warriors would need to stand firm and prove themselves. Our concern is the monsters, and we have—almost—all of them safe. I’m carrying both boxes of harpy fledglings while Alianor protects her sister.
We fight to injure, not kill. That, too, is the difference between hunters and warriors. We only need to escape, and most of these men seem like little more than farmers with bows and daggers. We hold them off and inflict just enough injury for them to stop pursuing us.
That’s not the only thing that makes them decide we aren’t worth the trouble. The distant scream of a harpy says the parents have returned. Returned and found their nests smashed, babies gone. Harpies might be far from my favorite monster—even less so after our encounter in the woods—but the guilt at hearing their anguish is so sharp I have to bite my tongue to keep from calling out and returning their young.
Thankfully, I don’t do that. Even more thankfully, as we’d been retreating, I’d fed the waking juveniles more sedative-infused meat. They’re asleep, and only twitch at their parents’ distant cries.
We pause long enough to make sure Sarika can continue on. The stab wound is more than a mere scratch, and she’s in pain, but with Cedany and Kaylein supporting her, she insists she’s able to walk.
We’ve left the villagers behind. Which also means leaving Trysten behind. Now I realize he’d warned us with good reason. I’d have liked to talk to him more, to make sure he was all right with Geraint and the others. There’s no way to do that now, though. Just something to discuss with my mother later.
We continue on for another couple of miles, moving along the top of the Michty riverbed. When we think we’ve gone far enough, the others find a safe spot on the cliffside while Kaylein and I gather moss and leaves, and make the broken box and the intact one into the best nests possible.
We place the boxes in the new spot and hurry to the forest. We’ve barely done that when a couple of the fledglings wake and begin screeching, and soon their parents’ answering calls tell us they’ve been heard.
After the harpy fledglings are reunited with their parents, we get deeper into the forest and find a place to rest. Our first thought, of course, is for Sarika. Both Alianor and Cedany examine her more carefully. The wound will require stitching. The dagger didn’t seem to have injured any internal organs, but it is clear she cannot continue on this trip with us.
“I’ll take her back to my cottage,” Cedany says. “If you don’t need Kaylein, perhaps she could accompany me.”
Kaylein brightens and then pulls back, shaking her head. “My place is with the princess.”
A look passes between them, Kaylein turning away quickly, gaze lowered.
Cedany nods. “Understood. Alianor? You were willing to forgo the adventure to help your sister earlier. Perhaps you could assist us.”
“Of—of course,” Alianor says, though she stumbles on it, and shoots me a furtive glance before straightening. “My place is with my sister.”
The corners of Sarika’s mouth lift. “I do appreciate you coming to find me, Ali. In the past, you’d have sent someone else, while you continued on your adventure.”
Alianor squawks. “I’d never—”
Sarika lifts a hand to cut her off. “All right. Perhaps I only felt as if you’d
