The Runner

Just a little note: While this story is free from any explicit language or gore, it does have a suspenseful theme and does mention death. If that may be triggering for you, I suggest not reading or at least proceeding with this warning in mind.

The horn sounded through the village in a unique sequence of one long note and three quick, short ones. Raiders. Etta knew it would only be a matter of time. This winter was proving to be one of the hardest she'd seen in her twenty years. If the stories from the elders proved right, that meant Valers, savages from the mountains to the north, would be leaving their territory.

She could already hear the yelling of the rest of her people springing to action outside. They were prepared. Or at least, as prepared as they could be given their likely much smaller numbers and inferior weapons. Everyone had their role, and had practiced it as much as possible.

Etta knew her role - to warn the next villages the Valers were coming - and this wasn't her first run. Still, dread and fear welled inside her as the babe in her arms let out an unaware and unconcerned babble and smiled up at her. No time to waste. She had to get ready. Stay or die. She wrapped the baby tightly to her chest with practiced precision, then put her overly large wool coat over the two of them. It'd have to be enough to keep them warm in the cold. Over the wool coat, she put on her mottled grey cloak, though it would serve more to help her blend into the snow-laden forest than to provide warmth.

On the north end of town, she heard swords and shields clashing from the north end of the village. Time to go. She grabbed the already-prepared saddlebags, slung them over her shoulder, and quietly stepped outside. The bright light of the morning sun reflecting off the snow caused her to squint and made it difficult to see for a moment but she pushed on, so familiar was she with the walk to the small stable out back that she could've made it out there in the dead of night without light.

Whether by luck or coincidence, her father must have been preparing to go on a scouting run this morning, only for the horn to be blown right before his shift. His horse, a swift grey bred for speed and hardiness named Cadoc, was tied to the hitching post already tacked up. She tried to ignore the passing thought of her father perishing in this raid, or her mother, or sisters. It was hard not to though. Her own husband had died in a small raid last winter, when she was still with child.

Just before mounting up, she had the passing thought of letting the rest of the horses loose. She did just that, opening the five stall doors and the pasture gate, yelling at them and waving her arms furiously to get them running. If her idea worked, the Valers would at least lack horses to steal quickly to speed their pursuit. The loose horses might even cause confusion and chaos should they go into the village proper rather than make a break for the open quiet of the woods.

Knowing she had no more time to waste, Etta swung herself up into the saddle with practiced ease, careful not to squish her daughter, and spurred the horse forward and out of the paddock's open gate. The last house on the south end of the village, she simply had to take a left at the road to ride through the open gate and out into the dense forest beyond.

A quick glance at the two guards standing in the southern watchtower told her the scene behind her wasn't a good one. Though the guards, her cousins, looked as though they wanted to join the fight, they knew to stay put. She could see their bows in hand, ready to start volleying arrows at the raiders the moment they came into range. Leaning back slightly in the saddle, she reined Cadoc in slightly and yelled up at them, “Darren! Chase! How many?”

“I estimate five hundred up front and there's a lot more coming down the hill,” Darren called back, his tone dire. “This is more than just a raiding party! Go, get you and the babe to safety! Before they have a chance to catch up to you! And tell the other villages that they best run rather than stay and fight!" Just as she let the reins up to let Cadoc move forward again he added, "They aren't flanking yet!” Good. An assurance that she'd have a safer start to the run.

She risked a quick look over her shoulder to see chaos unfurling just five houses up from her family's. At least one building on the edge of down was already aflame. In that quick glance, she saw the street filled with Valers, their crude hide-and-fur clothing making it clear they were not her fellow Erlundians. A few bodies already lay strewn in the street but the ever-growing distance and the importance of her task kept her from looking long enough to be certain who had already fallen. Etta also noticed that the loose horses were following Cadoc. On the one hand she knew that, should Cadoc get injured or tire from carrying herself and the babe, she'd be able to catch one of the others without issue. On the other hand, it may mean that she was easier to track. In the deep snow, one horse's tracks might disappear after some midday sun or a little fresh snowfall, but tracks from ten horses wouldn't. They could have absolutely no delays on this run if they wanted to survive this. She looked ahead of her once more as they crossed the small bridge marking the end of town.

Cadoc picked up speed, confidently familiar with the road and eager to stretch his legs. He'd done this run many times, though with far less at stake. As the icy wind slapped Etta's face, a gut feeling settled in that she didn't like. They weren't going to have a home to come back to. The Valers were still holding a grudge from their defeat last year. They wouldn't lose a second time. She felt a knot form in her chest but fought it back. A life on the edge of civilization had made her too tough to cry. She could've left this place several years ago, made a life for herself somewhere safe. She'd chosen this though. All of them had. They knew the risks.

In the end, it didn't matter whether her home survived, she told herself. She and her daughter would find a safe place to settle. That much was certain. If they could survive this. Ahead of them was a day, night, and another day's hard ride through the snow and dangerous, beast-ridden forest to reach Drystan, the nearest village. But even then, it wouldn't be much respite. Drystan was no bigger than her own village of Dolent. If her cousins were right about the Valer's numbers, Drystan would face the same fate as her home. True sanctuary wouldn't come until they reached the Valley, and the small city Fort Brumous. The entrances to the valley were easily defensible and Fort Brumous had served as a base for Erlund's armies to train soldiers year-round since the last war with Valers many years before Etta's time. But Fort Brumous was ten days away at best this time of year, and they were not equipped to travel that long. True, once she reached Drystan one of their messengers would take over, and Etta and her daughter would get a night's sleep in a warm house, and there were more villages and hamlets along the way. She couldn't be sure how long it would be before the Valers caught up, if they even would. Valers rarely rode horses, favoring the animals more as meat than mounts, and that would slow them down. However, these cold winter conditions were practically balmy compared to what they were used to and that might be where they got ahead.

Etta glanced down at her now-sleeping daughter, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the horse's gallop. Despite being several months away still from her naming ceremony, she'd already spent many hours in the saddle strapped to Etta like this. Shifting the reins to one hand, Etta removed her glove and placed a finger behind the baby's neck to see how warm she was staying. Fortunately, she was so warm she was nearly sweating. Good, Etta thought. Because it's going to be much colder once the sun sets.