John's luck can't hold forever, can it? He's causing trouble and it's well past time for him to be tested. And what better time to test him then while he's distracted tending to his newest thrall?
You can find Chapter 11
here
, Chapter 1
here
, and the story (Enchanted) that started it all
here
John emerged from the Mayor's house and made his way back to the well. Helleen stood at his side a moment before asking, "What, exactly, do you plan to do?"
The sound of still ringing against steel caused them both to turn. Helleen's hand went to her sword but she did not draw it. Artesia stood in front of a group of men and women, all of them villagers save for Roxanne, and led them in drills. They were armed with spears, swords, and cudgels.
"What in the name of the saints is she doing?" Helleen wondered.
"Teaching them how to fight," John said.
"That's not fighting, that's... that's..."
"That's fighting," John said. "Not the artistry of a gladiator or the skill of a swordsman, but the simple manner of fighting in mass."
"Thought you were a wizard?"
"I am, but Artesia has been spending time teaching me how not to fall on the sharp end of my spear. She's been teaching me how to fight by myself though... this... this I can see how the movements sync with the soldier beside them. It looks clumsy and it would be, by themselves, but can you imagine fighting a line of soldiers like that?"
Helleen fell silent as she watched the villagers drill. It was sloppy and awkward for most, but there was no denying the effectiveness of it. Assuming they all kept from dropping their weapons, that is. "Without flanking them it would take a sacrifice to break that line," she admitted.
Baylee, the man who called himself Sheriff of Highpass, was in the front ranks of the defending group against Roxanne and Artesia. He was sweating in the cool mid-morning air but wore alternating looks of determination and grins as they worked.
"So, that plan?" Helleen asked. "While your woman teaches them how not to piss themselves."
"Oh, I expect a good many might still do that," John chuckled. "But hopefully now they'll live to clean the mess up themselves."
Helleen wrinkled her nose.
"If they can protect themselves better are you thinking they won't need us anymore?"
"I hadn't planned any of this at all. I expect it's Artesia's doing. That woman is something else," John said.
"Is that right?" Helleen mused. "She seems awfully grumpy all the time. Pretty enough, even with her scars, but she doesn't do anything with herself."
"Oh, I don't know about that," John said. "I'd say she does plenty. You just need to look for it. I'd choose a thousand Artesia's over a single beautiful useless courtesan."
Helleen smirked. "What about a not-so-useless beautiful warrior?"
"You fought well against Jennaca," John said. "Almost gave her a challenge, even."
"Almost?" Helleen cried. "Why, if I'd had her measure I would have known far better how to put her down. I've been studying her, you know. If we spar again it will be a different battle, I assure you!"
"Yes, it will," John agreed. "A battle where she defeats you far quicker. Remember, she didn't have your measure either."
Helleen's mouth fell open and she stared at John as he bowed his head, turned, and strode away.
John saw Matthew emerge from the longest building as he walked toward Artesia. He waved and Matthew waved back before breaking into a jogging and reaching him as he neared the drilling recruits.
"We've broken up our patrols, one of my mine or yours with one of theirs. Teaching them the routes and how to keep watch," Matthew said.
"That's a good thing," John said.
Matthew grinned and leaned in. "What's next, then? How's that girl?"
"Aisley is recovering. She woke up and talked to me a bit."
"Oh, what came of that?"
"The end is near, I think."
Matthew drew back. "For who?"
"Depends on how we go about it," John said. He shrugged. "These creatures serve someone... someone that has a goal in mind. It's not just mindless savagery and feeding on the locals."
"I thought not. Why would they bring them game every few days? It's like they want them fed... but not fed well enough to avoid going hungry."
"Aisley said they leave the people at Hawk Hollow alone... mostly. As long as they produce."
"Produce? Produce what?"
"Gold."
Matthew stared at John for a long moment before he asked, "Gold?"
"Aye, that's where the mine is. They mine and smelt it and then it's taken from them. Meet their quota and they live to work another day. Fail and...well... that's why they cleared out Rock Haven. They needed more miners."
Matthew swore.
"I'd wager Highpass here is where the reserves are kept."
"Reserves?"
"Aye, when the folks of Hawk Hollow can't keep up, they'll need a bigger work force. That, or they'll need replacements for the people killed."
Matthew swore again.
"Mind you much of this is conjecture," John warned.
"Conjecture?"
"Yes, I'm speculating."
Matthew stared at him again for a long moment.
"I'm guessing," John tried. "This is what makes sense to me, based on what I know."
"Right," Matthew said and shook his head. "I follow you. Seems you've got the right of it, far as I can figure."
John smiled and turned to address Artesia.
"So, all this gold," Matthew said.
John turned back to him.
"Seems if we were to liberate them and reclaim all this gold, they'd be willing to share some of it with them that freed them, don't you think?"
John smiled. "It's not an unreasonable thing to ask."
"Damn right it's not," Matthew said.
John turned to Artesia. "What's this?"
"Teaching them to protect themselves, my lord," Artesia said while lunging forward and trying to drive the wall of alternating spears and shorter reach weapons back. She drove a spear to the side and blocked a sword with her shield. A club slowed at the last moment as it swung toward her. She took the softened blow on her hip and twisted with it to drive the back of her sword-wielding hand into the man's face.
The defender staggered back and fell, tripping the man behind and beside him. She stepped into the break and kicked the legs out from another defender before slapping a third across his upper back with the flat of her blade.
She stepped back and shook her head at the man who was cradling his sore jaw. "Don't pull your blows. Not for me and not for a true enemy. And you! Yes, you... when he fell back you tried to catch him? Are you daft, mad, or do you ache to see your guts spilled on the ground?"
He gawked at her like a fish freshly pulled from the water.
"Let the man fall. If he can rise, he will. If he can't, then you did not good but cause an opening in your line. When your line is broken, it is weak. You're in too tight to swing properly and anywhere I can go I'll kill your friends, sisters, brothers, and wives. If there's more than one of me, they'll force a wedge and flank you. Then you're all dead."
Her harsh tone and words caused the anger in their faces to drain right along with the blood.
"Now set up and do it again!" she barked and moved back. She nodded to Roxanne, indicating she should attack next.
"Artesia, a moment?" John called.
"Of course, my lord," she said and turned to walk over to him.
"This is... perfect. Thank you," he said.
She smiled. "They're a bit slow, but living like this most of them know how to account for themselves. They've a few hunters too. Possible archers, if they can learn well enough to protect. They know nothing about fighting together though. This seemed like a good way to help them."
"It is," John agreed. "I'm even more impressed to think that a one-time bandit can teach such tactics and command so many people."
Artesia's face colored from the praise. "I wasn't always a bandit," she mumbled.
John smiled. "Tell me, how long do you think until they'll be able to fend for themselves?"
Artesia turned to look back at the drilling villagers. "This is only the first group. The ones on patrol will need to take part and so will the others that are still hiding in their houses."
"I'm not sure they're hiding so much as doing what they've learned needs to be done to get by."
She snorted. "I'd say a week, but that's only if they keep up with it. Otherwise they'll get sloppy and it will all fall apart. Two months would be best."
John winced.
"You had other plans, my lord?"
John tilted his head. "Do you know how very much I respect you?"
Artesia's brow creased. "My lord?"
"I respect all of you, Artesia. Your mind, your skills, and your privacy."
"Have I done something to upset you?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Far from it. You just reminded me of something I noticed before... you always address me as 'my lord.'"
"We discussed that some time ago, I thought?"
He nodded. "Yes, briefly, but I didn't really notice it then. It's not that you call me your lord, it's that you refer to me as, 'my lord,' and not, 'milord.'"
"I always learned to speak it properly," she said.
"Yes. A lowborn person, no matter their personal worth or potential, learns to speak of it as, 'milord.' You do not."