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The peasants below were pitiful, scurrying like bugs against the ground.
This was the terrible rebellion they had been ordered to put down.
She ought to have seen it coming.
“What do we do, Commander?” It was Heath. He was a good kid—no, a man now. A good man. As stupid as wyvern feed, sometimes, but kindhearted if nothing else. She supposed there was room yet in the world for people like that.
Vaida didn’t spare a glance for him or his precious wyvern. Tension in the sky grew thick as her men stared at the ground. Uncertainty hung around them like fog.
These people were helpless.
“A rebellion!” Isaac shouted from somewhere behind her. She let his insolence escape her judgment, just this once. “A rebellion, I say! And a grand rebellion it is—armed to the teeth, they are, can’t you see?” He patted his wyvern’s neck as if to reassure it, the sound lost to the wingbeats of the other beasts. “Vaida’s Raiders were called in to deal justice, but what kind of justice can we possibly deliver against cornstalks and rusty garden tools?”
Belminade frowned from her other side. “What mighty foes, indeed.”
“Commander Vaida?” It was Heath again.
His words barely tickled her ears. Bern was not an especially wealthy land, especially away from the castle grounds; King Desmond did little to better the lives of the peasants despite the fact that many of his best soldiers came from common stock. She supposed that said all it needed to about him.
“What is it, Boy?” she finally asked.
“I…” He paused as the wind caught his hair. “I don’t…” Suddenly, he straightened in his saddle and held his shoulders level. There was pride in his voice when he spoke, and trust. “What are your orders, Commander?”
Vaida had never been the thoughtfully insightful sort, but it was hard not to feel something as she watched the people below her. Most of the men and some of the women were gathering pitchforks and rakes and hoes while a few of the women and all the children and elderly were sent into buildings—barns and homes and sheds.
They thought they would be safe there, but they were mistaken.
Vaida’s Raiders could swoop down and destroy the village in a matter of hours—much less if the wyverns themselves felt up to the challenge of assisting.
Umbriel alone could tear the roof from a building in one fell swoop, sending shingles and logs and rocks raining down on the people hiding inside. Wyverns were powerful creatures, and smart enough to earn fear and respect the same way the aristocracy did: through intimidation.
Her mouth set itself in a grim line as she watched a young woman duck into a cellar.
Foolish wench, she thought. It wasn’t safe there, either; nowhere was safe and no one would be spared—not even the red-faced, wrinkled little child she held secure to her breast…as if an unarmed peasant girl had any hope of protecting anyone.
As the cellar door closed, Vaida turned to Heath. “We can’t quell an uprising that doesn’t exist.”
“I trust your judgment, Commander,” Lachius finally piped up, “but if we don’t follow our orders…”
“C’mon,” Isaac said, “don’t tell me you’re prepared to see those orders through!”
“No, but—”
“They’re less than a day behind us by now,” Heath said firmly. “General Ritter and his men, I mean.”
“Vaida’s Raiders, hanged for treason.” Belminade sighed, but did not argue.
Vaida smirked. “If massacring a helpless village makes me a hero, I’d rather die a dog.”
Most would not fault them for following orders, but the judgment of others had never meant much to Vaida; the only person she had to live with was herself and so the only judgment that mattered was her own.
“We can’t do this,” Heath said.
Isaac grinned. “Let’s go, then.”
Lachius looked doubtful, eyes scanning the horizon. “Where can we go?”
“Who cares?” Isaac asked. “Away from here—anywhere.”
“You’ll all be found and hanged within a week, if you even live long enough to see the noose.” Vaida knew her expression was severe but did not hide it. “How do you expect to hide a flight of wyverns?”
“We can’t leave them behind!”
“But if you take them, you will be found.” She knew she was right; wyverns were large, cumbersome creatures whose forms could be seen miles away—dark, angry blots in the sky—and whose wings could be heard beating from the ground.
Horses sensed their coming and even the calmest of them tended to prance skittishly toward shelter. Rabbits and foxes dove into their burrows. The birds grew silent.
The men argued amongst themselves for a few minutes, but Vaida finally put a stop to it. They didn’t have time for lollygagging around.
“Go,” she said.
They stared.
“Are you deaf and dumb, you bunch of bloody moppets? I said go!”
“What about you, Commander?” Heath asked, concern in his voice. She had known the boy most of his life, and she could say with complete honesty that he had turned out well. A fine, upstanding man.
But still as stupid as wyvern feed.
“There is strength in numbers,” Isaac told her. The others hadn’t dared to move from their positions in the sky.
She snorted. “Don’t make me laugh, fool. Strength in numbers? When the general and his men arrive and see that this bloody village is still standing, our numbers will mean nothing!”
“You intend to stay behind.” Heath had not spoken loudly, but by the way the others held their breath, they had all heard him.
“Come with us, Commander.”
“Yes, come with us!”
“Who, then, will stay and protect these people?”
Everyone turned their gaze down to the villagers below. They were afraid, standing down there with their pathetic excuses for weaponry, knowing damn well they didn’t stand a chance. There was probably something heroic about that—about knowing their fate and fighting against it anyway.
“General Ritter would never sully his own hands,” Isaac said.
“Can you say that with certainty? Does he not have a regiment at his disposal?” Nobody could argue with her; she was, as usual, in the right. “Leave Bern,” she said. “Do not come back.”
“But—”
Her response was swift. “Leave Bern and do not come back!”
They obeyed, leaving only Heath by her side. She watched them head west. The direction was too obvious, she worried, but they were men, and men could take care of themselves. She had taught them everything she knew…and had to trust it would be enough.
“Go, Heath,” she said, turning to him. “If you’ve got half a wit of sense about you, you will leave now.”
“I will,” he answered, “but…”
“I’ll be fine.” She met his gaze. “And you will be, too.” Reassurance was not something she felt comfortable giving; most of the time it felt too much like lying, and it felt like that now, too.
But it was necessary.
Heath smiled. “Has anyone ever told you that you were beautiful?”
She glared at him. “What are you blathering about, now? Fool, you need to get—”
“Answer me!”
He needed to leave, and she needed to ensure that he did. “Long ago,” she answered, her words stiff but not dishonest.
His eyes softened. “Good. You really are.” He sat up straight again and offered her a crisp salute. “Commander! Take care of yourself! I will see you again.” With a kick and a sharp tug of the reins, Hyperion angled down and then headed north.
The wind from his wings tousled Vaida’s hair, and she watched them go with the smallest bit of pride tingling in her veins.
He would be fine.
“Umbriel,” she said when her subordinate was no longer even a speck against the sky, “let’s go.” She turned them in the direction of an open field a few miles from the village.
She had planning to do.
Vaida hovered in the skies over the little Bernese village before dawn, waiting for General Ritter and his men to arrive.
She was ready, or as ready as she could ever feel. What was death but the inevitable end of any person’s life? Framed as such, it did not seem so terrible now.
“My last lesson to you all as your commander,” she murmured as she watched the first rays of light spread across the dewy grass below, “is to do what is honorable.”
The sound of a hundred men marching reached her ears in the distance. She could see them when she squinted, little specks that they were. They were miles away, yet. Umbriel let out an angry hiss.
“We will do what we can,” she said to him.
As the sun hefted itself over the eastern mountain range, Vaida sent Umbriel into a dive. She imagined they made a glorious sight as they spiraled down to meet the approaching regiment, and found satisfaction in the idea that General Ritter couldn’t hear them coming as long as Umbriel’s wings were tucked against his side.
At a flick of her wrist, her mighty wyvern spread his wings wide and they landed in front of the surprised general with a loud roar, the ground shaking from the impact. Sunlight streamed behind them, their combined form shadow against the watercolor sky.
Vaida’s calloused fingers ran over the smooth surface of her spear and she smirked.
She was ready.