The Children

Narrator: Katherine let Shola fall into a sleep and instructed Sheba to not leave her side. She left the healers tent and went in search of Lira.

Narrator: Katherine found Lira practicing her swordplay near the training grounds, sweat glistening on her brow as she moved with lethal grace. The queen watched silently for a moment, noting how the morning sun caught the steel's edge.

Katherine: *steps forward, her gown whispering against damp grass* "Lira. We need to discuss the eastern caravan routes." Her voice remained steady, but her knuckles whitened where she gripped her cloak.

Lira: *sheaths her sword with a metallic snick, turning sharply* "Your Majesty?" She wiped sweat from her brow, noticing the taut lines around Katherine's eyes. "Did something happen?"

Katherine: "We need to get with Borak and plan some raids on the supply routes of the Vortigern."

Lira: *Her eyes flash with fierce delight, a predatory grin spreading across her face as her fingers unconsciously trace the sword pommel* "At last! I've been sharpening blades for weeks waiting for this order. When do we ride?" She steps closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I know those mountain passes like the scars on my knuckles—we could bleed them dry before winter."

Narrator: Katherine's gaze drifts toward the healer's tent where Shola sleeps, shadows deepening beneath her eyes. The scent of damp earth and steel hangs heavy as she clutches a hidden obsidian pendant beneath her gown—a jagged thing, cold against her palm. "Before the frost sets in," she murmurs, almost to herself. "Borak waits at the old watchtower. But Lira…" Her voice fractures slightly. "This isn't just about supplies anymore."

Lira: *Her grin vanishes as she catches the tremor in Katherine's voice, stepping so close their breaths mingle.* "Tell me." Her calloused hand grips the queen's elbow—not an act of familiarity, but urgency. "What did the healers find? Is it the girl?" The wind carries the distant clang of the smithy’s hammer, sharp as a warning bell.

Katherine: *Her knuckles tighten around the pendant until obsidian bites into flesh.* "Shola carries Vortigern’s mark beneath her collarbone—a brand shaped like a burning crown." She stares past Lira toward the mountains, voice dropping to a raw whisper. "He’s not just stealing grain anymore. He’s claiming children."

Lira: *A low growl tears from her throat as she unsheathes her dagger, its edge catching sunlight.* "That bastard’s poisoned the eastern wells before, but this?" She slams the blade back into its scabbard, the sound echoing like fractured bone. "I’ll carve that brand from his rotting heart myself."

Katherine: *Her hand snaps out, cold fingers wrapping around Lira’s wrist.* "Wait." The obsidian pendant pulses against her skin where she’d clenched it. "Shola’s fever dreams whispered of tunnels beneath Vortigern’s fortress—ones not on any map. Children’s voices… singing." Her eyes lock onto Lira’s, fierce as a hawk’s. "We don’t just bleed him dry. We burn his empire from the roots."

Borak: *Crashing through the bracken, his chainmail rattling like angry snakes.* "Majesty! Scouts report Vortigern’s vanguard crossing the Silver Creek—two hundred strong!" He doubles over, gasping, the scent of pine resin and fear clinging to him. "They’re dragging cages… *children’s* cages."

Katherine: "How many men do we have Borak?"

Borak: "Seventy archers fresh from the northern marshes, Majesty—with poison-tipped arrows that make blood boil." He spat on the ground, eyes burning. "And fifty swordsmen camped at Raven's Gulch. We can ambush them at Widow's Bend where the canyon narrows—but those cages..." His voice cracked like dry wood. "If we hit hard, children might die in crossfire."

Katherine: *Her fingers unclench from the pendant, revealing obsidian shards embedded in her palm.* "Then we split them." Her gaze swept toward Lira, sharp as a honed blade. "Borak—take the archers and rain hell *behind* their column. **** them forward into the gulch. Lira?" A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "You and I scale the eastern cliffs. We drop into those cages before Vortigern's dogs know we're there. We can get Sheba and her pack to attack from the front and this time they will attack for real not to scare."

Borak: *Nodded grimly, already signaling his men with a curved hunting horn.* "Aye, Majesty. They'll scream louder than boiled rats." He vanished into the pines, the horn's mournful wail echoing through the mist-shrouded trees—a sound that chilled bones despite the rising sun.

Narrator: Katherine whistled and soon Sheba padded over to Katherine and Lira.

Katherine: *Stroked Sheba's scarred muzzle* "Change of plans, girl. No feints this time—rip their throats out when Borak's horn blows." Sheba snarled, teeth bared at the scent of pine resin carried by Borak's trail. "Lira, we will go with Sheba and her pack. While they take care of the men we will rescue the children and bring them here"

Lira: *Her dagger flashed as she sliced a strip from her cloak, wrapping Katherine's bleeding palm.* "Those cages will have guards. Let me go first—Vortigern's dogs know my scent means ****." Her calloused thumb brushed obsidian shards from the queen's skin, voice dropping to a whisper. "Hear that? Wind shifts east. They won't smell us coming."

Narrator: The eastern cliffs loomed like broken teeth, biting into a sky stained rust-red by sunset. Katherine crouched behind jagged rocks, Sheba's pack slinking silent as shadows below. Borak's horn shattered the twilight—a screech that sent crows exploding from pines. Down in the canyon, Vortigern's soldiers stumbled as arrows hissed like vipers from the cliffs above. Screams erupted where poisoned steel found throats, but Katherine's eyes stayed locked on the iron cages rattling at the column's heart.

Narrator: Katherine lunged forward as chaos erupted below—Borak's ambush turning the canyon into a slaughterhouse of **** men and boiling blood. Sheba's wolves tore into the rearguard with fangs bared, but Lira was already moving, rope uncoiling like a serpent as she rappelled down the cliff face toward the cages. Katherine followed, her gown tearing on granite, the stench of fear and iron thick enough to taste. Below, a child's whimper cut through the din—a sound that sharpened Katherine's resolve like a whetstone.

Katherine: *Her boots hit gravel as she landed beside Lira, obsidian shards still embedded in her palm.* "The third cage—Shola said they keep the marked ones there!" She drew her hidden dagger, its edge catching the dying light. A Vortigern guard lunged at them, sword raised, but Katherine ducked low, slashing his tendons. The man crumpled, screaming drowned by Sheba's triumphant howl nearby. *To Lira, voice tight:* "Cut the locks! I'll hold them!"

Narrator: Lira vaulted onto the cage roof, her dagger biting through rusted iron chains like butter. Inside, children huddled—eyes wide with terror, some branded with Vortigern's burning crown. One boy whimpered, clutching a crude wooden toy shaped like a hawk. Katherine's heart clenched as she recognized Shola's description: tunnels, singing, *hope*. Just then, three armored soldiers charged them, swords gleaming—but Sheba's pack tore into their flanks, jaws crimson in the twilight. This rescue was the breakthrough the reader craved: visceral, emotional, and charged with righteous fury.

Narrator: Katherine slammed her shoulder against the cage door as Lira severed the final lock. The hinges shrieked open, releasing the damp stench of unwashed bodies and fear. "Out!" Katherine ordered, pushing the children toward the cliff's shadowed crevice. A Vortigern archer drew his bow from a nearby rock shelf—aiming at the oldest girl—but Katherine hurled her dagger. It sank into his eye socket with a wet thud, the arrow clattering uselessly.

Narrator: Lira hauled the last child from the cage—a boy with Vortigern's brand weeping beneath his tunic. Below, Borak's poison arrows turned the canyon floor into a churning nightmare: men clawing at their throats as blood boiled in their veins. Sheba ripped out a soldier's jugular, her muzzle glistening black in the fading light. Lira scanned the cliffs. "North ridge!" she barked. "Archers regrouping!"

Katherine: *Snatching her dagger from the dead archer's skull, she shoved the children toward a narrow fissure.* "Go! Follow the wolf tracks—Sheba's pack will guard you!" Her obsidian-cut palm left bloody handprints on a girl's shoulder, eyes locking with Lira's.

Narrator: The north ridge archers loosed a volley—arrows whistled past Katherine's cheek. One grazed Lira's arm, painting her leathers crimson. Sheba lunged, dragging an archer screaming from his perch. The children vanished into the fissure, whimpering fading like dying embers.

Borak: His horn split the dusk again—three short blasts. Poison-tipped arrows rained onto Vortigern's regrouping archers. Men screamed as their skin bubbled and blackened. "Flank secured, Majesty!" Borak bellowed from the canyon floor, his axe dripping gore.

Katherine: "Borak get the children back to Saltgrave. Sheba and her pack will shadow protecting your flanks."

Borak: *He nodded sharply, his axe dripping shadows and gore onto the canyon floor.* "Aye, Majesty—we'll take the underground river path. Vortigern's hounds won't scent them through limestone." He whistled sharply, and Sheba's wolves fell into formation around the trembling children, their eyes glowing like molten gold in the dusk. The boy with the brand clutched Borak's cloak, whispering, "The singing... it came from the earth..." Borak ruffled his hair. "Sing louder, lad. We're going home."

Narrator: Katherine took a parchment from her tunic and slammed a small dagger into pinning it to the cage. The parchment was addressed to Vortigern. *Your time as false ruler is coming to an end. Today we rescued the children. Last week we took your water. Soon i will take your pathetic cowardly life. Katherine the daughter of King Davos.*

Narrator: Sheba returned with Borak after silently escorting the children to safety. Katherine knelt and embraced Sheba. "Good girl! Tonight we feast." Sheba growled softly and licked Katherine's face. Katherine was exhausted.

Lira: Her fingers traced the fresh arrow graze on her arm—a shallow cut, but burning like betrayal. "That parchment..." she muttered, kicking a Vortigern helmet clattering across the rocks. "You signed your father's name. Davos' ghost just became a weapon." She grabbed Katherine's wrist, turning the queen toward her. "Vortigern will come for *you* now. Not supply routes—not children. *You*."

Katherine: *A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face " He will not come he is a coward. I will have to go to him to end him."

Lira: Her grip tightened on Katherine's wrist. "Davos died in those mountains," she hissed, the arrow wound pulsing crimson down her arm. She jerked her chin toward Vortigern's fortress, jagged against the blood-red horizon. "If you walk into his halls, you'll be walking into your father's pyre." Below, Borak's poisoned arrows had reduced Vortigern's survivors to twitching, blackened corpses—the air thick with the coppery stench of boiled blood and despair.

Katherine: "He is has a disadvantage he does not know me. People come and go into his fortress so what is just another woman among so many."

Lira: *Sheathing her dagger, she scanned the cliffs where Vortigern's archers had fallen—now silent as graves.* "You're no tavern wench slipping through his gates, Katherine. That dagger message pinned to his own cage?. It will make him mad and he will have more guards around his fortress."

Katherine: *Her fingers brushed the obsidian shards still embedded in her palm, the sting sharpening her focus.* "Mad men make mistakes. Remember Shola's fever tales? Servants whisper of hidden passages behind tapestries in the west wing—ones even Vortigern's captains don't know. Come let us return to Saltgrave and celebrate the rescue. We will talk more later."

Narrator: As night swallowed the canyon, Katherine and Lira slipped through Saltgrave's secret tunnels—damp limestone walls echoing with distant cheers from the great hall. But beneath the victory feast's roar lay a deeper hum: Borak's scouts already mapping fortress weaknesses, Sheba's wolves prowling the perimeter, and Shola awake at last, tracing her collarbone brand with trembling fingers. The rescued boy clutched his hawk toy, humming a haunting melody—the same tune from Vortigern's tunnels. Katherine paused, listening. The real war hadn't started yet.