These Old Bones

21-1

21

The raider gurgled as she clutched him to her chest, his blood flowing from his throat onto the arm she used to hold him. Her other hand still covered his mouth as she stared through the gap in the crates and barrels she hid behind. His limbs jerked in unnatural spasms as life left him, his eyes, staring up at her face, glazing over as the last spasm fell away.

Other raiders wandered around beyond her hiding place, unaware of the fate of their colleague, an unfortunate time for the man to choose to empty his bladder. She laid him down in silence and backed away, keeping low, her eyes never leaving the movements beyond.

Upon reaching the corner of the alleyway, Tiera rose to her normal height and slipped down the street, back to the sheep pen with it's sturdy lean-to, bales of hay and Viriili awaiting her. Tucking herself behind the bales, she wiped her thin knife and her blood covered arm upon the hay. She settled back onto the straw, reaching out to pull Viriili close.

"There's no way out of the gate. Not yet, anyway." She kissed Viriili's head then leaned her own back against the rough wood of the lean-to. "I don't know what to do, Vee."

"You killed one of them." It wasn't a question and Viriili picked up some more hay, scrubbing at the drying blood on Tiera's arm. "Will they find the body?"

Since Viriili had killed the man in the guard house, she had returned to the cold, emotionless expressions that Tiera had seen when they first met. She had continued to show those expressions to Grey, with the odd burst of emotion in-between, but, with her, the girl had always seemed more warm. Open. Now she had closed herself off again.

"Probably." Tiera ran a hand over her mouth, turning her eyes upward to look into the starlit sky. "We should move further away, back into the city proper. They don't seem to want the city now they've secured the gate."

She had watched the lines of Gaeradine march through the gates, heading who knew where. From memory, she recounted the maps and charts she had never shown much interest in as a child. Her father, the Chaffti of her String, insisted she know the terrain of the Graatfeld and beyond, but she always had fighting games upon her mind.

Now, she struggled with those memories, searching for the landmarks and the contours in her mind. If she remembered right, Maraki led to the Graatfeld. The only way to get there for the Gaeradine, unless they sailed north and either passed through the Hissing Marshes or, further, reaching the Hraalfeld, passing through the Steppes, to reach the Graatfeld.

There could not be any other reason. But why the Gaeradine would want to reach the Graatfeld eluded her. The Pony Riders had had their skirmishes with the Gaeradine, for the most part in protecting Maraki, but never out-and-out conflict. But the thousands of troops now moving beyond the Southern Gates were a strong force. Enough to sway the tide against the Pony Riders in the war with the Steppes. The Kingdom of Turszdava.

She groaned. Of course, Turszdava and the Pony Riders seemed of an even match. As she had seen on their journey, no clear winner seemed apparent in the war. Each side appeared able to meet the other in equal numbers. A stalemate. With the Gaeradine at the Pony Rider's backs, that would be the end. A war on two fronts would be a disaster for her people.

"What's wrong?" Viriili touched her arm and regarded her with those piercing blue eyes. So bright and intelligent, missing nothing. "If we're moving, we should do it now, while it's quiet."

"You're right, little one." She brushed that vibrant, burnt red hair from Viriili's face and smiled. "I'm just worrying about my people."

"Worry about ourselves, first." Viriili pulled away from Tiera's hand and began preparing to move out, slinging her pack over her shoulders.