She opened her mouth to snap out the number, but then she processed it. Her stomach clenched, and she looked back to the gate.
Her answer was a mere whimper. “Not enough.”
They stood in silence for a few moments longer, listening. It had been a while since the last call, but long enough that the danger was gone? The rest of the market seemed to think so as it gradually returned to normal.
Tension bled from her body, and Iryana took a few steps away from the man. The dakii must have passed by them. The only way up to the well-hidden entrance to the post was a long switchback path that led up to the hanging valley. It was difficult to climb, especially with the waterfall obscuring parts of it. And this time of year, it would be slick with ice and mud.
Sweet, glorious relief flooded her. Her family was safe for the day. Her beautiful sisters would laugh and braid each other’s hair before bed. Cousin Tonhald would rock his baby girl to sleep. The rest of her cousins would bicker and arguethe way only those who truly loved each other could. They would be there for each other, supporting each other. At least for one more day.
Iryana took another step, and just as her heel landed in the dirt, two quick, shrill calls sounded through the air.
Chapter Three
“No,” she gasped.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion.
It was like a horrible dream. A nightmare.
The guards on the wall jumped down the stairs to slip through the gate. Another guard was already running for the gate, sliding through the muck, ready to seal it shut once reinforcements made it out. Her uncle would race for the gate as well, if he could get his armor on quickly enough.
Those not trained for combat would be preparing in other ways. Her sister would be readying to take on the injured; the kids would be gathering fresh towels and water. The air-forged messengers would be warning the settlement that the Dovaki post was engaging with the dakii.
Two calls sounded again.
Most of the villagers raced to pack necessities in case the post had to be abandoned. The wall had stood for twelve years, but if the call to abandon it was made, they wouldn’t have much time before the dakii ripped it apart. The villagers that could fight, and all the guardians, would do what they could to slow the dakii,to give the rest of the villagers a chance to escape. And to give those connected to this valley, the towns at the base of the peaks, time to get out.
Iryana blinked, immediately shuffling the remaining guardians and volunteers still fit to fight in her mind like pieces on a map. The last time they’d made two calls, there were far more warriors to jump in to help—and they’d still lost three guardians and a few volunteers. In comparison now, their numbers were laughable.
Her family and the other guards wouldn’t be able to fight them off. They would die trying. The wall would fall. The Dovaki post would be overrun. The valley would be lost.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Iryana dropped her basket and was running before it even hit the ground.
She didn’t race for the gate like the others; she couldn’t let them see what she was going to try to do. She ran straight for the stream that flowed toward the wall.
“What are you doing?” she heard Pyetar calling after her.
Iryana ignored him.
With one leap, she mostly cleared the quick-moving stream. Her left foot landed ankle-deep, freezing water splashing up onto her pants and skirt, but she didn’t slow.
She raced up the path toward her cottage, legs and arms pounding. The door slammed against the wall as she threw it open, grabbed her bow and quiver from beside the door, and was off once again.
As she neared the top of the ridge, the incline grew steeper. The wall protecting the post had ended lower down, tucking into the steep valley side where passage was impossible. As she neared the edge of their valley, the forest below now in view, Iryana found the narrow ledge that hung over the steep drop. There was a way down from there, though it was treacherous.
It was the only other way into the lower valley. The only way to reach it without going through the gate. The only way to get behind the dakii that threatened the post.
Her bow and quiver banged against her back as she tore down the cliff side, slipping and sliding, rocks and clumps of jagged ice tearing into her palms. It was like everything was moving at double speed. She jumped down the last drop,her knees barely absorbing the crash. Dirt was still tumbling from the ledge from which she’d leaped as Iryana darted into the trees where the snow was still halfway to her knees.
None of the other Kleesolds or villagers knew this path besides her.
Iryana knew the forest like it was her own garden. Every fallen branch, every hill, every stream. It was easy to make her way quickly toward the watchtower, one hand on her bow, the other itching to grab for an arrow.
This part of the forest wasn’t too dense, besides the occasional pine, so the snow wasn’t as deep. The sun had more chance to melt it. Most of the trees were slender, white-gray birches and aspens, not yet wearing spring buds. Still, her eyes strained to see far enough for comfort.
She’d considered all the things her clan had tried in the past, all the things she’d heard them even consider. There was only one course of action left that might make a big enough difference. One tactic that might give the post a chance, but it was forbidden for a non-metal-forged, let alone someone unforged, to attempt. But she knew there was no one on watch that could manage it or would even attempt it.
