- The Rule of the Road
The sharp, clean smell of pine needles swept into Lyrianna's tent along with the first pale streaks of dawn light. Now the work began.
Everything that had allowed her to be comfortable the night before, the thick under blanket, the soft bedroll, the heavy fur over blankets, the tent itself, all had to go back on Radek's little cart. The leather and canvas felt stiff with morning dew as she folded them.
Around her, others began to rise, the sounds of their wakefulness a chorus of groans, yawning, and the rattle of chains as they started the similar process of dismantling and moving everything back onto wagons.
She quite understood why many of them chose to sleep in their wagons rather than go through the whole rigmarole of building and then dismantling again.
Despite this, Lyrianna was finished ahead of most others and so went around offering a hand to anyone still trying to move things. This ended with her standing behind the smith's cart, her shoulder braced against the rough wood, trying to push it past the deep divot the wheel had got caught on, the muffled crunch of loose stone audible beneath the tire as she strained to get it back onto the road.
Soon after, they were underway. While Radek mixed with the middle of the pack, Marinus took Lyrianna to the front of the line alongside Alaric on his mount, a hardy northern breed whose coat was a more muted brown than Marinus's rich glossiness.
The air was now filled with the rhythmic creak of leather and the constant, dull grind of fifty or more wheels moving over the gravel track.
"Have you come this way before in your training?" Alaric asked, his voice rough against the cooling breeze.
"No. I've only been north before." Lyrianna adjusted her grip on the reins, finding the rhythm of the march comfortable.
"How far?"
"Wolfsong."
"Ever faced any foes?" Alaric glanced at the forested land flanking the road, his eyes sharp and assessing.
"A couple of times."
"Clanless?"
"Yes."
"Did you have to kill?"
"No. We drove them off before it got bad." She kept her voice even, the memory distant but clear.
"It's better when it's like that. How many others did you have with you?"
"Nine others."
Alaric smiled, a thin, cynical curve of his lips. The sound was a dry, rasping noise. "Ah yes. In training they still pretend the rule of ten is a thing."
"Is it not?" Lyrianna frowned, confused by his tone.
"I've never travelled these roads with more than three other Brothers outside of training."
Alaric looked at her kindly. "You'll learn sooner or later, so why not now. All those rules. They're aspirations. The only rule that matters is the rule of the road."
"What's that?"
"Survive." Alaric's tone was flat, absolute, and carried the weight of experience.
"What about protecting others?"
"Yes. If you can. But you can't do any good from the grave." He shrugged, the slight movement causing the leather of his shoulder pads to creak faintly.
Lyrianna looked away. While there was a kind of logic to his words, she was not ready for that kind of retreat yet. She focused on the earthy smell of the horses and the rhythmic jingle of their harness bells.
"Where are we trying to get?"
"The next refuge. We made good progress yesterday and got going early today. That's good. We should make it before nightfall, particularly at this time of year." He paused, adjusting his position in the saddle.
"And beyond?"
"Get to Dayhold in as few days as possible. We've been lucky so far. Maybe too lucky. I could never protect them all on my own. With you, it's better. But we need more Brothers."
"It's not that many wagons."
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"No. But they're rich now. The moment the swine who prey on travellers get scent of that, they'll be flocking." A cold edge entered his voice, a hint of genuine worry overriding his earlier cynicism.
"You think other Brothers will help? What if they have other duties?"
"They'll help for the same reason we'll be hunted. They need gold too." The finality in his voice was chilling; everything, even Brotherhood, boiled down to commerce and survival.
"I didn't think we prized gold so highly." The sound of the cart wheels grinding on the gravel track dominated the short pause.
"It's not that simple. We offer to protect, but given the choice, do you risk your life for people who can barely pay for your daily food, or do you work with people who can ensure you don't need to work again all winter? People who make it so you can sleep in soft beds and have a bath after days on the road."
The movement of the caravan had settled into a steady, hypnotic rhythm, the horses' breath momentarily visible in the cool air.
"It's not what the Order teaches."
"It's what the Order runs on. How do you think we pay for everything we do?" Alaric looked at her. "Where did the money for your glorious armour come from?"
"Brother Larian and Brother Shu..."
"Used the coin made by fools like me on the road that we turned over to the Order. Remember that." He tapped his own worn pauldrons with a gloved finger.
"No one ever said that." Lyrianna's grip tightened, leaving slight crescent indentations on the soft leather of her reins.
"No? Well, if you ever feel bad about taking a big payload, the Order will be happy to receive your donation. And somewhere down the road, that money will pay for a Brother to have a bed or pay for the medicine for a Brother who's sick."
Somewhere in the middle of the caravan, a dog barked twice, a sharp, momentary distraction.
"So taking gold can be noble?" She tilted her head, the sun catching the highly polished silver on her shoulder guard.
"As long as you give something back." Alaric smiled. "I reckon you might be the type to do a lot of that."
"That's a good thing," she retorted.
"Good things happen to people like you." He lifted one hand slightly from the reins, a non-committal gesture that encompassed her and her horse.
"What does that mean?" Lyrianna was offended for the first time. She straightened abruptly in her saddle, her gear shifting with a quiet rasp.
"It's not a bad thing. People will take one look at you and fight over the chance to give you a bed for nothing. People will give you gifts because it will be an honour for them. They'll give you clothes because they just want to see how good they look on you."
"You think I've had it easy? Try seeing your mother butchered in front of you. Try being the only girl the fucking Order." Her voice rose, sharp and sudden, cutting abruptly through the ambient noise of the caravan.
Alaric held up his hand. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to suggest any of that." The leather of his glove was worn smooth in the centre of the palm.
"Then what did you mean?"
"I meant... If you live. You might be someone who can give back."
"Just as well I'm going to live then, isn't it?" Lyrianna said with a wink. She nudged her horse forward, its trot immediately becoming sharper and more determined.
The daylight was still strong when the refuge came into view across the stone valley. It resembled halfway houses she'd encountered on the way to Wolfsong. Where the strongholds had high walls and watchtowers made to resist a determined assault, the refuges had just enough defences to mean raiders couldn't simply charge in like they could with a camp.
This one sat on a high outcrop above the road and had a four-foot-high wall of bricks and stone above another two feet of supports, meaning those on the inside stood higher than those on the outside. Not enough to keep people out. Enough to ensure getting in at least took some concerted effort.
There were a little more than a handful of buildings in the refuge. A food hall, a smithy, an infirmary, stables, and two dormitories of twenty beds apiece. Each building had two people working in it, keeping it clean and offering services.
All of it paid for by the gold donated by merchants such as the ones they travelled with. She noticed they were quick to drop coins in the donation box. Gold really was the lifeblood of survival on these roads.
One thing the refuge did not offer was armed protection. Alaric checked the food hall straight away in the hope of finding an errant Brother kicking up their heels. It was fruitless. No one had seen anyone from the Order in several days.
The wagons pulled in around the refuge walls while valuables, people, and animals continued inside. The smell of woodsmoke and roasting meat began to drift from the food hall, mixing with the scent of pine.
"I'm going to scout the area. It looks good for now, but it's worth checking still." Alaric ran a gloved hand over the hilt of his sword.
"What should I do?"
"Walk among them. Be reassuring. Give them what they need so they sleep well tonight."
"Why's that so important?"
"If they eat and rest well here, they will be full of vigour tomorrow," Alaric explained. "Foxfell is another thirty miles from here. We can do that in two days if everyone is hale. Tired bodies will take three or four."
"And that gives more time for luck to run out."
"Precisely."
Be reassuring, that was the task. Lyrianna walked from the food hall and through the dormitories, quickly selecting a bed for herself before walking outside again to show her presence.
Most of the party remained here for now, enjoying the last, soft sunlight while it lasted. At the point it started to fade, they made use of the multiple fire pits the refuge provided, filled with chopped tinder and drenched in oil.
The massive flames roared to life with a satisfying whoosh, casting deep orange and flickering yellow light across the faces of the travellers. This was a far cry from the short-lived pyres of wet twigs from the night before; the heat here was generous and constant. The smell of pine and smoke hung heavy and comforting in the still evening air.
As she passed from one small gathering around the flames to another, nodding and offering brief, calm words, she noticed she was being trailed. Turning on the spot, she confronted her pursuers.
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