Author's note: While I was going to keep a couple of the bonus scenes only for the hardback versions, I've decided that you, my subscibers, deserve all the bonus scenes. You'll be receiving all future bonus scenes I write.
I appreciate you so much, and I hope this is a small way to show it.
I ignored my aching feet as the dread over raiding an innocent village filled my blood. My muscles tensed as the wooden and stone houses came into view.
They had no idea we were coming. We’d intercepted every news runner and convinced them to hand over letters and cease announcements or face a traitor’s death. Most chose to live.
This war. Saints. It would be ugly. I felt it in my bones.
Smoke dissipated into the air from tall stone chimneys. Children played, villagers worked in their gardens, farm animals made various bleats and snorts.
A little blond-haired boy chasing a dog spotted us first. He stopped, pointed, and shouted to a parent, I assumed. The hound ignored its owner, jumping and running.
Then the medium-sized animal barked and growled in our direction. I hoped the pet returned home before we had to put an arrow in him. I breathed a quick sigh when the pup finally listened to the lad’s pleas and ran to him, herding his friend to safety indoors.
More people discovered our approach and scrambled to their houses. A woman screamed. Then another.
I didn’t blame them.
A sharp gesture from our lieutenant had the troop dividing into three teams. I led mine right to hold the eastern perimeter. Men, women, and children fled when they saw us.
“East secure!” I called as soon as we were in position.
The west team affirmed their placement seconds later.
“Citizens!” Sergeant Zuma projected his voice. “Step out of your homes! Those loyal to King Leonardin are safe. Do not be afraid.”
Silence fell like death. Soft clicks of metal handles were followed by wide-eyed people obeying the order. A baby wailed nearby me and I fought the urge to comfort the wee one. We caused the distress. I couldn’t mend it.
Lieutenant Nagden strode to the center of the village to address the governor.
“What are you doing here?” the gray-haired noble asked with a trembling voice.
My attention to the exchange waned as I scanned the perimeter. We were ready.
A farmer sprinted from his barn, but Privates Ryan and Heston intercepted him and bashed him over the head, knocking him out.
I frowned and adjusted the spear in my grip.
“Do not use force unless assailed,” I ordered.
“Yes, Sergeant,” they replied in unison.
Our lieutenant still conversed with the red-faced noble. The officer and I were friends back in the capital, and I was pleased he requested our leaders to add me to his team during the reorganization. While he asked about the village’s resources, the rest of us ensured the villagers stood outside their homes, ready for the draft.
I pitied them. Our unit’s physician died last week, and while we had the apprentice, he wasn’t able to perform surgeries. Conscripting skilled citizens made most leaders uneasy. But it was a necessary evil.
We’d collect the army's share of provisions as well. While we retained plenty of grain, salt, oil, dried meat and fish, and oxen, we needed local contributions of animals, milk, fruit, and vegetables to sustain the war.
By the code of Laeviin, one fifth of any citizens’ supplies may be commandeered for military consumption. We often paid the farmers, butchers, and bakers a fair rate in Astralind and Lisaire. But here? We’d not allow the king’s levins to support Trestaine.
Sergeant Zuma pounded on the entrance of a home with a mortar and pestle symbol, signifying medicines and doctors. As Lieutenant Nagden exited the main square, a middle-aged woman and two older teens emerged.
I approached the barn where the idiot had run. Several tall lads gathered around the unconscious farmer.
“Please prepare the twenty percent provision from your household,” I said in a firm tone.
The tallest boy balled his fists. “We’ll starve if we do.”
I evaluated the family. Five males, varying from half grown to man.
“Don’t have to give a percentage of everything. Keep what you need for winter, and portion out the rest. If it looks good, I’ll not question it.”
The lad’s expression fluttered between anger and relief. I was too lenient, but I refused to make them go hungry.
I moved on to the next house. One of my comrades was leading a drafted woman away from the buildings. Then a high-pitched scream pierced my eardrums.
I jerked toward the sound to find a male citizen on the ground and Private Henry poised over the body with a knife. Our orders were to contain the village and gather provisions. Had he been forced to defend himself?
“Desist, soldier,” Sergeant Zuma bellowed.
“He assailed me!”
“Warren!” A young woman flung herself over the injured person.
I gestured at my team. “Wait here. Maintain the perimeter.”
Then I headed toward the commotion so I could assist if required.
“What’s going on over here?” Lieutenant Nagden demanded, beating me to the location before I was halfway there.
Several people answered at once.
An explosion of green and gold light brought our attention back to the girl bent over the stabbed individual. He writhed under her touch. Agonized screams filled the air.
“By the divine,” I whispered. “A healer.”
A few moments later, he sat up. Blood coated his tunic, but the wounds no longer existed. A hushed conversation between the lieutenant, victim, healer, and the drafted parent who’d escaped the soldiers ensued.
“That man should hang!” the mother yelled with an accusing finger pointed at Henry.
I knew our leader well enough to expect the harshest lashing he could mete out.
“Please. Don’t take my sister,” the lad begged.
Conflicting emotions swirled in my gut.
“I have to. I’m sorry.”
No. We didn’t. Yes, we faced beheading if the king discovered her existence, but none of us would expose her secret. Our very lives depended on it. Though if an idiot blurted something while inebriated, we’d die.
He must not have considered the possibility of leaving her, because Nagden picked up the limp girl and carried her to a cart near the road. The poor thing looked half dead. Her long blonde hair trailed down, and a breeze made it sway.
My throat tightened at the memory of my daughter’s tresses. How she laughed while skipping in a field of flowers. My sweet Emma. If situations were different, we could be kidnapping my daughter instead of a Trestainian stranger.
I reached him, gathering the courage to argue with a superior rank. But I nearly choked at the sight of him stroking her bruised face. What in the void was he doing?
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Lieutenant, will she be alright?”
He surveyed her. “I think she’s just asleep from using her power.”
“She wouldn’t have had to use magic if our soldiers followed orders,” I muttered in Northumbrian. “We should let her stay.”
He didn’t understand my language, but he commanded in a rough tone, “Watch your tongue, Bernard, and help your comrades.”
I clenched my jaw. This was wrong, and he knew it.
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