”Rosethorn, do me a favor”, Hellrien said fervently.
”Take Rose out of here... now. Before morning. Go to Bree, and don't come back until late afternoon the earliest. We will take care of this. We're paid to do so.”
”You are asking a lot”, Rosethorn replied by the window where he was standing next to Rose.
It was still dark. The moon shone like a silvery disc amid the starry sky. The broken window shutter kept banging behind the house. Everyone remained silent. Rosethorn was bothered by the idea that Hellrien and Ingrandor would wage battle against overwhelming numbers to protect Rose and the farm – alone. No matter what they said about being paid to do so, the matter involved Rose and himself too, and Rosethorn wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to let other people fight his battles. On the other hand he wanted to get Rose out of the harm’s way as much as Hellrien. He didn’t want to risk her getting hurt or killed in action.
But would Rosethorn be able to take Rose Thornley to Bree as Hellrien requested before the massacre began? What if they bumped into the murderers on the road?
Rosethorn squirmed nervously.
Hellrien opened and closed her fists in quick succession. She kept herself in constant movement to keep her racing thoughts at bay.
”No, I can't do it”, Rosethorn said.
Ingrandor crossed his arms and turned his head to look at them. ”Stay and die, or leave and return when all is safe”, he said.
”If necessary, I will use my swords!” Hellrien snarled. ”I want you two out of here!”
Rosethorn stared at the swords in Hellrien’s hands. She had opted to replace the parrying dagger with a full set of two one-handed swords. Rosethorn had never seen a dual-wielder of two swords before. He had heard of the style, but it wasn’t very common, as that sort of combat required special skills and special training. Not everyone could swing two weapons simultaneously.
”Alright, damn you!” Rosethorn gave in. ”I will do it.”
”I think this is the time to think with reason”, Ingrandor said. ”Not emotions. Go.”
Hellrien sheathed both of her weapons. ”Wait for us in the Prancing Pony. We will come for you there. Do not come back before you see us.”
Ingrandor nodded in agreement with Hellrien and fell into silence. Rosethorn swallowed and grabbed Rose by the arm. The woman tried to protest and resist a little too for show, but without much conviction. Then she stood up, and the pair shuffled out of the patio.
Hellrien waited for a few minutes to see them really ride out of the farm before she sighed in relief. ”Alright, now that that's out of the way, what will we do?”
”The same”, Ingrandor said. Hellrien stared at him for a moment in disbelief until he burst out a laugh. The laughter died out quickly and Ingrandor grew serious again. ”You counted seven, right?”
”Seven, aye.”
”That's not too many but I think if we could isolate the ones in charge it would make things easier.”
”Seyton is the boss now that Toadflax has fled and we have Crampbark, that's for sure”, Hellrien speculated.
”We need to isolate him somehow then.”
”Do you prefer this house or the worksite? We could attract their attention there too. They're after our blood, after all.”
”I think that we should stay around there and observe them”, Ingrandor opined, ”see if he gets alone at all.”
”They're gonna burn the farmhouse first for sure if they don't see anyone there, then come for the worksite.”
”That is true. Oh…” Ingrandor smirked for a moment, daydreaming, before he came out with his idea. ”We can always go and meet them halfway. But instead of watching we can attack them head on, on horseback.”
”I suppose…” Hellrien considered the idea. ”I can't think of anything better either, but that still spells like suicide. Oh well, maybe we'll get lucky.”
”We have a few moments. Give it a thought.”
”Or we could just wait for them here or at the worksite, in the middle of the yard. Maybe they will be men enough to dismount at least.”
”Let's do this then”, Ingrandor said.
”So where?”
”At the site.”
It was beginning to dawn. The rising sun was still hiding beneath the eastern horizon, but it had already begun to paint the sky with crimson red color. The color of blood, Hellrien thought. The Bloody Dawn.
”It’s dawning”, she said. ”Let’s go then.”
Ingrandor nodded and put his helmet on. ”After you.”
The two sellswords walked down the stairs onto the yard and headed for the worksite. The wind raged unchanged, and whirlwinds swirled leaves and debris on the corners of the buildings. There was no sign of life or movement anywhere to be seen. Hellrien pulled her plumed hat deep over her eyes and peered into the south. They were there somewhere – amidst the wind and rubble. Would they come all together or one at a time?
The terrible fear started to gradually release it’s hold from her, and her bitter mouth twisted into a smile. Slowly, as if in trance, she walked out of the worksite and ascended a low grassy knoll looking over the Greenway. She would see anyone approaching from afar, as would they see her silhouette against the sky and the worksite behind her back.
”We’re a little in the open”, Ingrandor’s voice suddenly said from behind her, startling Hellrien out of her trance. ”Aren’t we?”
”How about right here, so they can see us as they approach? We'll have a small advantage there.”
Ingrandor turned to look at her and frowned, surprised. Had Hellrien lost her mind? ”How are we going to have an advantage if seven men see us two in the open alone?” he asked.
Hellrien shrugged. She had thought that the sloping high ground gave them a small advantage, but perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps it didn’t even matter. What was the point of taking this stand to begin with? They could have just taken their horses and fled to Trestlebridge, letting the thugs burn out the farm and then disappear to Ost Forod or wherever they were going. Was it the money? The tears in children’s faces, having to bury their parents? Or did she have a need to prove something to herself? Perhaps she did have a death wish after all.
”I don’t know”, she finally said. ”I thought that's what you wanted? Take them head on?”
”Come out of nowhere on horseback”, Ingrandor replied, shrugged and grabbed his mace. He let the mace rest against his right shoulder. ”Oh well. We're here now.”
”There's still time to get horses. I don't see nobody coming yet.”
”It's bad luck to go back and forth”, Ingrandor countered. ”We came here. Let's stay here. Enjoy the dawn, the fresh breeze. It might be the last time!” He laughed. ”It won't though.”
”You sure?” Hellrien said, unable to share Ingrandor’s confidence and optimism about the situation. Did he really see them walk out of this battle unscathed? ”Oh well. I guess it's a suicide either way.”
”We'll see. They are common bandits. They can threaten farmers as much as they want. I am – was! – a soldier of Gondor.”
Hellrien stretched her back and filled the chamber of her pipe. The hilts of her heavy swords thumped against her elbows. Calmly smoking her pipe she kept staring at the road incessantly. Sooner or later they would spot one or more men – they would surely not bother coming round the back. Ingrandor yawned.
”I could use some sleep. After we kill them I will. And we will kill them. I'll finish them off even if they are wounded. Then I will drag the other bastard among the corpses and finish him off too.”
Hellrien began to feel all the more confident. Soon they would come along the Greenway straight towards them. Perhaps on horseback, perhaps on foot.
There they were. A big crowd of horsemen.
”There they come…”
”Good.”
Like evil spirits summoned from another realm they suddenly appeared in the middle of the Greenway. Seven men. Agonizing silence surrounded them.
Hellrien put out her pipe and glanced at Ingrandor. She wanted to meet them in the middle of the Greenway. If she was to die today, she wanted to die like a warrior. No tricks could help them here. Not anymore.
Slowly and deliberately Hellrien walked down the slope, stopped in the middle of the road and turned to face the men. Ingrandor walked behind her and stopped at a distance to the side of the road, a little ahead of her. He held his helmet in his right hand and casually leaned on the mace in his left.
”That’s very clever of you”, Ingrandor muttered, apparently disapproving of Hellrien’s decision to forego what little advantage the higher ground might have given them. It would have been easy for the killers to overrun Hellrien with their horses – too easy, Hellrien hoped for the brigand chief to think. She remembered the man now, as she had seen him in the Soot & Stain tavern. Looking into his eyes she had seen a flash into his soul. It had been like a mirror where she had seen her own fears, her own pride and jealousy, and she thought she understood him. A man like Seyton would not turn down an obvious challenge and a chance to reap revenge with his own hands, especially when it came from such distinctly outnumbered opponents. He had something to show for, to his men if nothing else, if he wanted to stay the leader.
”They deserve an honorable death for their courage”, the wind carried a soft voice to Hellrien’s ears, and the men dismounted. Hellrien noticed how their horses immediately took cover from the wind by the trees on the roadside.
”And what would someone that terrorizes farmers know of honor?” Ingrandor asked in a loud voice, having heard the brigand captain’s words as well.
Hellrien felt the wind whipping her ears. Her fists kept opening and closing, and her blue eyes grew darker until they were almost black.
The band of brigands came closer. Hellrien recognized Seyton in the middle, holding a mace. To his right there were two men with maces and the one closest to the road had a sword. The man to his left was wielding two daggers, another one had a spear and the last one carried a war axe. They advanced no more than a yard’s distance from each other, for the width of the road wouldn’t have allowed them to spread out any further.
”I don't give a rat's ass about some dirty farmers”, Seyton Redweed said. His words were a response to Ingrandor’s comment, but his eyes were fixed on Hellrien’s. ”This is different. I want to be able to look you in the eyes as I kill you.”
”Then come and see them”, Ingrandor smirked, put the helmet on with one motion and beckoned the man. ”You'll have to get a little too close for comfort though.”
But Seyton didn’t care about Ingrandor’s taunting. He could only see Hellrien, that woman who had challenged him on the road, and his men followed by his captain’s side. She hadn’t even drawn her weapons yet.
”No one at me? You're that afraid? I can take my armor off if you want”, Ingrandor said.
That stopped them for a moment, and Seyton exchanged glances with four of his men, nodding towards Ingrandor. The group separated into two, and now only Seyton and the two macemen were approaching Hellrien while the others went towards Ingrandor. Ingrandor assumed his fighting stance and slowly walked diagonally to the left to cover Hellrien as much as possible.
Hellrien now drew her swords. She was satisfied with how the events were turning out. Her intention was to take out Seyton and the man to his left first. The third man, the youngest, she estimated to be fast but inexperienced fighter, even at risk.
The fear wrenched her again fiercer than before, with the kind of force it almost made her cower. She held her breath until her ears hummed, then released the air hissing through her gritted teeth.
Twenty more yards… She could already see Seyton’s white hair and the lines on his face.
The man to his right was throwing glances to his sides.
Hellrien noticed that he was visibly scared.
Seyton kept staring at her. His gait was slightly odd, like flank ahead. The man to his left tiptoed lightly and vigilantly, like a sabertooth preparing to leap.
Hellrien noticed that too.
When they reached the striking distance Hellrien couldn’t wait any longer: the command was already on it’s way from her brain along the nerves to her arms. Seyton Redweed reacted in the same fraction of a second, and so did the third man, even if in a less controlled manner.
Hellrien’s blades swung from inside out diagonally upwards, slicing the flesh of Seyton and the man to his left, who toppled into the grass. Seyton lurched backwards, still standing, while the man to his right sent a shattering strike with his mace to Hellrien’s chest. A short sound like groan emitted from Hellrien’s throat. She cowered, still clenching her swords, unwilling to fall.
Ingrandor looked at the four men attacking him and took a step back, then feinted a motion to his left but charged right. He lifted the mace to defend against a sword, pushed it back and slipped next to a man wielding an axe. He leaned to his left to avoid the sword that was coming at his face and sent the pommel of his mace right back, crushing the same nose he had broken once before already. The twice broken nose sends shrapnels of cartilage into the thug’s brain and the man fell down, gurgling.
Hellrien felt another crushing blow in her chest and a cruel, excruciating pain exploded in her chest. She saw the other man standing and Seyton as well, bleeding profusely from the gaping wound in his chest but still holding his grip of the mace in his hand.
Hellrien fell on her knees and felt yet another blow of a mace in her flank. Her swords dropped from her numbed fingers. Finally Seyton’s legs caved in beneath him too and he fell on Hellrien. From the corner of her eye she could see how the other maceman prepared to finish off the job and crush Hellrien’s head like an egg, but she didn’t care about that. Her hands hit Seyton, they rolled around and Hellrien kicked the man on his face. She managed to get a hold of Seyton’s right arm while his left hand hooked around Hellrien’s face.
Ingrandor dodged one or two attacks by moving left and right and kept his distance from the weapons of the attackers. Every now and then he glanced at Hellrien and the others. When he saw what was happening he ran towards Hellrien and aimed a well-balanced hit at the face of the man who was just about to crush her skull. The face caved in and the man flew off the road like a ragdoll. The three behind Ingrandor charged at him and tried to hit him from the back.
Seyton’s scratching fingers ripped Hellrien’s mouth. She clenched her teeth on them and wouldn’t let go. She lifted her other knee against his face and pushed it with all her remaining strength, his fingers still in her mouth. Seyton’s left-hand fingers clawed into the fleshy part between her thumb and index finger, and she had to open her mouth from the pain and release Seyton’s right hand. She managed to wrap her fingers around Seyton’s thumb and wrenched it. Seyton screamed.
Ingrandor turned around just in time to push away the man with daggers and ducked and turned away from danger. He faced the man with the axe and parried his attack, then kicked him in the chest, which made the axeman lose his balance. As he stumbled backwards Ingrandor, holding his mace with both hands, pommeled him from downwards, crushing his jaw. Before the disfigured thug could realize what had happened to him, Ingrandor pommeled him again, this time to his chest. Then Ingrandor turned the mace swiftly in his hands and slammed it onto his head, crushing it like an egg.
The spear was coming at him with great speed and Ingrandor just swung the mace in response, breaking the spear in half. The sellsword used the momentum and the energy of the motion as the mace went all the way to the left. Ingrandor lifted it slightly and turned it around, and the mace flew to the right and collided with the man’s face, dropping him dead as blood spurted from the ugly dent that had once been his face. The last opponent slashed his dagger against Ingrandor’s back. He turned around, swung his mace and hit the man to his right hand, disarming him from the dagger. Ingrandor pommeled the surprised brigand to his chest and continued slamming him over and over until he wasn’t moving anymore.
Hellrien was trying to crawl out from beneath Seyton, who grasped her legs. She tried to kick him, but missed. Finally the loss of blood from his gaping wound overcame Seyton and all strength escaped from his dying body. Rolling to his side he opened his mouth into a soundless scream. His head fell on his arms, he gasped his breath for a couple of times, and a gush of blood spurted from his severed lungs.
Hellren rolled arduously on her back. The ground beneath her was stained red with blood. Blood was spurting on her legs too.
Somewhere far, through the red mist and rushing of blood in her ears, a voice called her:
”Hey. Are you alright?”
Hellrien couldn’t respond. She was pale as death and her breathing was shallow and arduous. She could feel her broken ribs tearing through her lungs. Was that Ingrandor who had spoken? She opened her mouth and coughed, and droplets of blood covered her chin.
She was drowning in the sea of red.
