12 #2

The collectors began marking wagons. They chose sacks of grain, strong animals, metal, and any tool they could sell. One pointed to the blue door.

“Oak.”

Neris put her rod in front of it.

“That door is mine.”

“It was part of a house subject to seizure.”

“It was in my wagon when you signed our departure.”

“Then it will be included in the compensation.”

The collector wrote a figure.

Isolde watched the pattern. They were marking enough food to leave the caravan dependent on the next post. There, they would search, charge, and recruit again. Ordel’s documents directed the families along a route where every stop diminished their ability to choose.

“What happens to anyone who can’t cover the debt?” she asked.

Halev looked at her.

“Name.”

“I’m traveling with them.”

“Name and place of origin.”

“The road and I are recent acquaintances.”

The captain signaled. A soldier lifted the cloth covering her hair. The dye had faded. Her red braids were exposed.

Halev knew the notice from Nydel. His eyes moved down to her left glove and gray cloak.

“The charcoal woman,” he said.

“Today I’m walking with a caravan.”

“That makes the arrest easier.”

The soldiers blocked the way ahead. Others went around the rear. The families were trapped between the slopes.

Halev read a second list.

“Eleven people are of service age. Ordel’s quota requires eight. They can enlist now and reduce the outstanding burden.”

Aren stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

Bel caught his arm.

“No.”

“With eight, we get the grain back.”

“They get some of it back,” Isolde said. “The rest stays on the debt.”

The collector smiled.

“The fugitive can read.”

Isolde took the document before he could move it away. The recruitment quota had a clause: service reduced debt at a rate set by the receiving office. No figure appeared on the page.

“There’s no value per person,” she told Neris.

“They’ll put it in later,” she replied.

“They can put zero.”

The families began talking. Halev tried to take back the paper.

Isolde held it out of his reach.

“This caravan decides who travels with it,” she said.

“The regency decides who serves.”

“Under what decree?”

Halev pointed to Darian’s seal.

“Border emergency.”

“This is the third summer you’ve collected on it.”

“The border is still at war.”

“Where’s the enemy?”

The captain looked around.

“Right in front of me.”

The words gave the soldiers permission to ready their weapons.

Isolde heard Kaoran behind the second wagon.

“Three breaths.”

She could set the slope alight and cut off the road. The families would be caught in the smoke. The wagons carried dry cloth, oil, and children. The narrow terrain favored a barrier and would turn any mistake into a trap.

“Neris,” she said, “I need your decision.”

The woman looked at the eleven young people, the marked food, and the blue door.

“We take our people with us,” she replied. “If they want food, we negotiate in the open.”

“Then bring the wagons into a circle when we reach the plain. Children under the axles. Water and blankets in the center. No one attacks until the way out is ready.”

Neris repeated the orders, directing with her rod. Every family knew its wagon. They began moving without running.

Halev raised his hand.

“Halt!”

Kaoran released the rope on the third wagon. A pile of furniture fell across the road between the Guard and the caravan. No one was hurt. The chest of drawers burst open, spilling clothes, spoons, and a portrait.

“That was my mother’s!” a woman shouted.

“We’ll pick it up,” Kaoran replied.

The first wagons reached the plain. The drivers turned inward. The wagons formed an uneven barrier. The blue door stood on the north side, still lashed on top of the load.

The soldiers pushed the furniture aside and advanced.

Isolde stayed outside the circle with Kaoran, Neris, Bel, and Aren. They carried sticks, tools, and a short sword. The other ten young people remained inside. Aren had followed his father to the opening and gripped a shovel in both hands.

“Hand over the fugitive and the quota,” Halev ordered. “Everyone else keeps half the food.”

“That half will last four days,” Neris said.

“The post at Meral sells provisions.”

“The bridge is closed.”

Halev knew. The route ended at another checkpoint before it reached the river.

“Then you’ll go back to Ordel.”

“The houses have other names on them now.”

“That’s a matter for the office.”

Neris planted her rod in the earth.

“These people chose me to keep count. My count says giving you eight young people and half our food kills us more slowly. We reject the offer.”

Halev lowered his hand.

The soldiers advanced.

Isolde threw three flares taken at the beech pass. They landed in front of the horses and released red smoke. The animals stopped. Several soldiers dismounted and continued on foot.

Kaoran struck the first spear with his staff. Bel used a rope to catch the second. Neris defended the gap between two wagons with her measuring rod.

Isolde moved within the captain’s reach. He carried a sword and shield. He struck with the shield’s edge to drive her toward the circle. She deflected it, turned along the shield side, and cut one of the straps. The wood fell.

A soldier tried to get through to the young people. Aren came out to face him.

“Inside!” Bel shouted.

The boy ignored the order. He swung his shovel and took a spear shaft to the chest. He fell, winded.

Isolde crossed the gap. She stopped the point before it reached his throat and struck the soldier’s knee. The joint gave way. She dragged Aren behind a wagon.

“I can fight,” he gasped.

“You can breathe. Start there.”

The Guard was surrounding the circle. The families threw water, dirt, and objects to keep them back. No one had lit a fire. The smoke from the flares was beginning to clear.

Halev ordered the archers up the slope.

From there, they could shoot inside the wagons.

“We need to get out,” Kaoran said.

Isolde studied the ground. To the west, a dry channel led toward the hills. Two wagons could enter at once. If they opened the circle on that side, the Guard would try to block it.

“The door,” she said.

Neris understood.

They lifted the blue door from its hinges. The frame stayed tied on top of the chest of drawers. Four people raised the oak slab between two wagons to cover the drivers as they lined up toward the channel.

The archers reached the first rock.

Isolde lit the trail of oil Kaoran had laid well away from the wagons. The flames caught the cut grass they had piled alongside it, sending smoke between the archers and the circle. The first arrow struck the blue door.

Isolde gauged the wind. She held the heat for three breaths and let it fall when the smoke reached the rocks. The archers shifted to regain their view. The first two wagons entered the channel while the door shielded those behind them. Halev gathered the soldiers to attack the opening.

The blue door advanced toward them.

Neris and Bel held it with two other adults. It took spears, blows, and an arrow. The oak held. The stain around the lock looked like an old wound.

Kaoran attacked on one side. Isolde on the other. Every movement sought to push someone aside, bring them down, or break a strap. A soldier got up behind Isolde and gripped his spear again. Kaoran held him off long enough for the next wagon to turn.

The sixth wagon entered the channel.

The pregnant woman cried out inside the circle. Mava had doubled over her belly.

“Contractions,” Leya said. “Very close together.”

Enna was days away. Fleeing over dry ground might bring on the birth.

“Put her in the mattress wagon,” Neris ordered. “Tila, bring water. Leya, count.”

Halev saw the opening.

“Hand over the fugitive!” he shouted. “We’ll let the pregnant woman through.”

The families looked at Isolde.

She could accept. The Guard would concentrate the pursuit on one person, and the caravan would escape. It might also be a promise designed to stop the wagons.

“The decision is yours,” Kaoran said.

Isolde looked at Neris.

“If I give myself up, will you keep going?”

“We accepted you into the caravan,” the woman replied. “That agreement still stands.”

“They could lose food because of me.”

“They were coming to take it before they knew you were here.”

Isolde looked at Aren behind the wagon. Halev kept demanding the quota, one hand raised toward the archers. Neris pressed her shoulder against the oak and waited for her to take the other edge.

“Let’s go,” Isolde said, lifting it.

The last wagon turned. The Guard charged.

Isolde let the fire on the slope go out. She brought the flame to a stone in front of the horses and enclosed it in a circle. The animals refused to cross. The foot soldiers had to go around them.

The blue door took another blow, and a hinge broke. Isolde held the edge with her left hand. Her stiff fingers kept their grip thanks to Doven’s glove.

Kaoran knocked Halev down with his staff. He set the tip beneath the captain’s chin.

“The caravan is leaving,” he said.

“There will be more posts.”

“Then you’ll need a horse that still trusts you.”

Kaoran cut the reins of the nearest horses and drove them off with his staff. The Guard lost speed.

Isolde and the last defenders entered the channel. The door remained in front. When they reached the first bend, the slope hid them.

The caravan had kept its people and its food. It had left furniture, a damaged wheel, and a trail that was easy to follow.

“They’ll catch us before the spring,” Neris said.

“The channel forks in a league,” Isolde replied. “The left branch has a stone bed. If we get there, the wind will cover the tracks the wheels leave coming out.”

Neris looked west. A wall of dust was advancing across the Plains.

“What if it gets there before we do?”

Isolde watched the red line crest the hill. She had counted on the wind to erase their tracks; the storm was moving faster than she had reckoned.

“Cover your mouths and eyes,” Neris ordered. “Tie every child to an adult. Link the wagons with one rope.”

The sky turned red.

The storm struck before they reached the fork.