Axiom ~ 3!

  Double chapter Monday! Woo!

~ Three ~

Past the bend of the nearest birch forest, a rather sizable caravan waited near a hastily hidden raider encampment. Lit torches hung from the cart’s sides as several bulky, scarred men tended to the horses. Hakan raised a disappointed brow at the number of her men who were patting and paying attention to the hooded cart; rather than the watch duty they had been assigned. The scarred force almost sounded like babies talking to the beasts. Hakan’s reaction was so reflexive that she heard the slap to her forehead before she felt it.

They were children. Worthless, dumb, children. Still, this provided her an excellent ‘teaching’ opportunity. A thin dagger slipped from her bound thigh; her malicious grin returned to her lips as she silently charged at them with serpentine tactics an adder would find impressive. 

Only the spooked jump and loud whinnying of the horses caused some of the lookouts to turn around, while the rest snatched reigns and attempted to calm the animals that have just experienced the chilled, discomforting warning of a rapidly advancing predator. 

*Shing*. The slice of steel accompanied a shrill, unmanly scream as one of the scarred men gained yet another ‘failure’ mark on his face. He clutched it in panic, trying to keep the skin together while an unsympathetic boot crashed into his ribs. 

*Hurk*! The airy sound exploded from the man who had just gotten the wind kicked right out of him. 

“Pathetic!” Decried Hakan as the swift *swip* of a bloodied dagger vanished back into a sheathe against the side of her thigh. “I leave you to safeguard the caravan from surprise ambushes, and you all just let me run right up to it? Shame! All of you, shame!” 

Enraged, another kick beat the breath right back out of the fallen man’s lungs, right after he’d managed to take a solid one. “Pick this meat up and send him to Needle. I don’t want yet another failure in my band losing their heads. Again.” 

Her deadly gaze snapped to a random member tending the horses, letting him feel a dab of murderous intent. This emphasized that this could happen to someone else if they failed to pay attention to their appointed tasks. Fear instilled itself into the actual caretakers of the animals, who were suddenly very invested in their tasks. The fright remained with them while the others hurried to jog off and warn the remainder of the raider camp.

This particular leader of theirs was impatient. Their supplies were short, and she wore her temper on her knife-clad sleeve. Scars tended to be added to people who failed to work according to the plan. Or whatever Hakan decided was the plan, at least. Her voice hissed out her demands. “Where is Boro, the Traitor?” 

“You mean the Trader?” A confused reply came from the bulky raider, who ducked for cover as a throwing knife flew through the air where his head had previously been. Her aim was dangerously accurate. 

“Fetch my knife, and by the abyss you’d better hope that my mood has improved when you return it, recruit.” Hakan’s words were a whiplash, and the scuffling movement told her that at least the burly recruit was rushing to retrieve her property. At least he was trying to be useful. “Fool.”

The sound of flourishing robes and jingling accouterments invaded her aural space. “I am where I always am, mistress Hakan. Anywhere there’s a profit.” 

Hakan sneered. Without looking, she could feel Boro wring his hands together with a greedy, half-lidded smile of his own playing across his features. Hakan could hear him do his customary bow of welcoming, the flourish of his heinously rich robes fluttering behind him as he performed a mocking greeting. “You called for me, Raid Leader?” 

She detested how his willingness to debase himself somehow brought him prosperity instead of death. “The pleasant news is that the old toad has the hatred for Lapis that we thought she did. Is the item we discussed ready?” 

Her impatience was clear, and Boro wasted no effort in smoothing over his response. “Ready, folded in a pristine box, and paid for. It must only be delivered.” 

The Trader folded his hands together to bow once more when he was close enough. “Mistress Hakan, you must grace me with your insight on why you believe a colored robe will force the hand of that old toad. I feel that Elder Switch, while... unreasonable at times, still would not go against the rules of the Fringe.”

Hakan sharply turned on her heel and blessed Boro with an unnerving smile that ran from one ear to the other. Boro and surrounding raiders felt an unpleasant shiver clench their spines at the sight. “Because, my dear trader who sees only glittering coin, it is not what is being delivered, but who it is being delivered to. After what I heard today, my only regret is that I cannot be there myself to taste the very moment she snaps and betrays the community she serves.” 

Hakan’s vigor slowed, and she took a deep, relishing breath as she imagined the internal torture that aged bat would feel. “We will have our coin. You will deliver the conversions, and then… then I add new prospects to my family. It has been Far. Too. Long. Since I’ve had unmarred faces to cut.” 

Boro’s muscled cramped beneath his lavish robes as he shivered in horror, but he kept his footing. A single step would show weakness, and he knew that this blade crazed lunatic would only relish in taking the opportunity to sate herself with his suffering. Especially since his face was an ‘untouched canvas’. Not tempting Hakan, who saw herself as a bit of an artist, was a stressful prospect. One poor for the business, he thought. Very poor for business. 

The deal with the Reapers was lucrative, so he held his ground. For many a season, he’d been ‘in bed’ with Hakan. Converting the natural resources of a village into silver coin which the raiders could take and spend back at the very source that had handed it all out in the first place. Boro considered himself a monetary genius for creating the system. Even if it left fewer villages to trade with in his wake once they had been… expended. The survivors added to Hakan’s raiding party, and she only liked them young.

The rest? Well... Boro had developed a learned hatred of the smell of burning flesh, and now purely subsisted on fresh vegetables where he could afford to do so. The occasional feast still had him indulge in meat after enough cups of fermented fruit in liquid form, but the constant experiences had soured his tongue. He shook off the disturbing line of thought. Salt would be merely another casualty in a long string of villages yet to come. That, however, was not his primary concern right now as he hesitantly asked what was bothering him. “Have the pursuers relented?”

Hakan’s mirth vanished in an instant. Her smile bled into a frown, and her fingers curled around the hilts of considerably larger blades on her person. “You take this moment to end my pleasant thoughts, Boro?” 

Boro said nothing and stood his abyss-blasted ground. He only repeated his question. “Have they?” 

Silent for a moment, Hakan leered into the watchful eyes keeping silent in the forest, doing absolutely nothing as even the accidental sound of interference was grounds for flying daggers. Dejected, she spat on the ground and groaned an unpleasant *Ugh*. Hakan flagged a hand at the general group for someone to approach and inform her. She didn’t know the answer, and was obviously unhappy about that. 

An idea winked into her thoughts, and she stepped up to a decently sized hazel tree. Picking off a branch and stripping the excess, she decided that she preferred hazel over birch based entirely off the aesthetic from the swing. As Hakan waited, the scouting party came forth. 

“It’s not good, M’um.” A wicked, loose snap of a switch struck the scout. It silenced him after a yelp, and that pleased Hakan greatly. Her voice oozed pleasure. 

“Ooh, that’s nice. I like that. The old toad may not be of great value, but I certainly appreciate her style.” A few more wayward swings of the trimmed branch snapped through the air. “I’m not your mother. Someone give the report properly.” 

The wounded scout was sent off and another took his place. Hakan considered striking this one just for the fun of it, but noted it was a girl. She stayed her hand, having an extremely easy tell on the preference of who she preferred to hit. The lightly armored woman saluted before speaking. “Mayu reporting. The clerics are gaining ground every day. The loose ends we’ve left out are running dry, and they found one of the villages we sacked this morning. A messenger corvid came in with information that it was the third Village we sacked while in the Fringe, and that’s maybe a few days away.” 

“Per instruction of Raid Leader Majorca, we’ve sent a bird back to have them relocate camp to the second village we sacked. Both to throw the clerics off our trail, as well as to have them search in the wrong direction. We... will be losing that raid group when the clerics find them.”

Hakan grit her teeth and quipped in irritation. “Well, that’s not too…”

The raid leaders’ words cut short when she saw the urgency in her scout’s eyes. There was more, and it was unlikely to be good. “What is it?” 

The scout kept her spirit strong. She knew this was bad news. “The clerics received reinforcements. It’s no longer the novices and common flock anymore. The… weird ones are here.” 

Hakan tensed with the intent to cleave someone. “Speak plainly, scout.” 

The scout nodded obediently, swallowed hard, and did as she was told. “Cultivators, raid leader.” 

Hakan’s snarl was the definition of fury. “Abyss.” 

“What do the clever ones think we have left to work with?” The leader spat, hoping there was more detail from the scout about this point. The scout took the hint and unfurled the vellum to read directly from the source. If someone was going to get punished for reporting this information, Mayu was going to send it straight down the command line to save her own scrawny butt. 

“We have a handful of moons, at most, before they find this encampment. If we don’t fully move camp within two moons, the other raid leaders have suggested a full withdrawal from the region. They said we have a lot of muscle, but not… enough.” 

Hakan’s eyes were full of wanton fury at the report from her scout, fingers tensing and twitching around the wooden punishment tool. “Over nine hands worth of strong men and we don’t have enough?” 

The scout nodded at her leader’s displeasure to confirm it, forty-five and a few extra was a low number for raiders. 

“Aargh!” A muffled thud resounded as the raid leader angrily punched a tree to vent stress, still holding the switch in her off hand. Her eyes snapped to the trader as she spat out orders. 

“Boro, go today. Pretend you’re early and take all the gold with you–just keep it covered. We’re taking the gamble, and we need the old toad to take the bait. I had wanted to do this tomorrow, but it seems time is against us. Take the package. Make sure to deliver it. Everything relies on that dumb little box being opened at the right time. Can you wring your way into their ridiculous town meeting today? It will be in the longhouse. The building had preparations already in place well before I left.” 

Boro merely smiled with the calm demeanor of a practiced salesman having made a very expensive sale. “It will be done.” 

He bowed with a flourish, then fully took advantage of this opportunity to make himself scarce. A few of the people he flagged over quickly followed suit. While they didn’t want to load up his cart for him, it beat out the possibility of a random stabbing due to inactivity. None of them liked being stuck under this raid leader, but there was no chance in the abyss anyone was going to defy her or tell her that fact.

Hakan waltzed deeper into the camp and slumped into a seat that had swiftly been vacated upon her approach. A cup of fermented juice was handed over with great deference. The raid leader sipped it, sneered at the taste, and longed for something more pleasant to think about. She pulled out a small, secret potion bottle and tipped it into her drink, shivering as she sipped the potent healing syrup. The image of the pliable, gentle, playful children in the Salt village came to mind. She whispered huskily to herself and closed her eyes. 

“Soon.”