Hope Sundered

Losigalender made his way around town, watching with mixed emotions as the preparations to defend Chastin continued. No one had taken the offer to flee to Wyndham, though many had answered the governor’s call to build fortifications with the reasoning that safety precautions were a wise addition for any situation. He moved from station to station, offering encouragement or lending a hand from time to time.

A group of pits dug along the northern side of town formed the first line of defense. They were filled with rocks and short wooden spikes and covered with leafy branches. Despite being one of the oldest and most basic of hunting traps, it was still effective.

Rows of longer spikes fashioned from slender trunks provided the next barrier of protection. They were positioned tightly to encircle the main body of the small town. Narrow, pre-determined gaps would provide access to anyone retreating, as well as create a bottleneck against their foes. Whether or not the Azrahterans were on horseback, the ten-foot spikes would provide a significant hindrance to any advancing force.

Lastly, archers would be placed in various trees around town, covering every vantage point. Stockpiles of arrows were placed in the boughs of the most defensible trees.

In the depths of his soul, Losigalender knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Lark had returned a few hours earlier, confirming his worst fears. The invading army had turned toward them, and would make their presence known any day now. And still no one chose to leave.

Father fought Leader on the battlefield of Losigalender’s heart, neither willing to surrender. He longed to flee for Wyndham with Keila and Lark by his side, but the shame of abandoning the rest of his people kept him rooted like one of the ancient wooden monoliths surrounding the remote lakeside hamlet.

As he continued his circuit through town, he came upon a cluster of trees along the northern edge, smiling to himself and nodding his approval. An ideal spot for an archers’ ambush. The many thick and intertwining branches formed a network of pathways between trunks, allowing easy access between stations. Men like Lark Prentice and Ekard could rain down a barrage of pain and death, perhaps dissuading the invaders from continuing their course.

Losigalender’s smile became a frown as Keila dropped from one of the trees, landed lightly on her feet and jogged over to him. Her excited expression both delighted and terrified him.

“I found the perfect perch, Father! It offers the best view, and I’ll be concealed as well. It’s comfortable and maneuverable, and it’ll hold at least a dozen quivers. I can be out in a moment’s notice, if need be, and—”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Losigalender sighed. The hand he held up to stop her argument lacked the strength of conviction. “You know I’d prefer you to be on the ground, next to me.”

He hoped for another pressing matter to rescue him from this dispute. He was prepared to cross blades with a foreign invader and die for his people, but he could barely bring himself to match words with his not-so-little girl.

The gawky, boyish child had dissolved away, leaving behind a capable, intelligent woman. The past twenty years had been as fleet-footed as an elusive quarry; perhaps more so, as they couldn’t be caught or slowed.

“But I’ll be useless that far back.”

“I want you leading the retreat to the lake, if it comes to that.”

“If we cut them down before they get here, it won’t come to that.”

“Please don’t argue with me, princess. You already have a role to play that’s best for the community.” He trusted her, taking great comfort in her natural talent and the training she’d received from Lark and others, but his heart’s commitment to her safety warred against his mind in a tumultuous conflict.

Keila folded her arms across her chest. “It sounds like what’s best for you.”

“What’s gotten into you?” He feigned indignation but deep down he knew she was right, which hurt worse than her challenge.

“I’m not a child anymore. I’ll be a married woman in a matter of months, and I’m as capable a fighter as any man here. I’m the only person other than Lark and Ekard who can shoot two arrows at once. I need to be up in that tree.”

“No!” he thundered back with such intensity that Keila flinched.

Several other villagers looked their way but pretended they hadn’t.

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “You need to live! You need to escape! You’re all I have left.” His voice broke with a raw vulnerability he hadn’t acknowledged in almost two decades. His last statement whispered from trembling lips. “All I have left of her.”

“You don’t think I stand to lose as much?” she replied softly, reaching up and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. A subtle tear slid down the side of her face, betraying the stoic veneer she tried to maintain for him. “You’re all I’ve ever had.”

Losigalender sniffled and shook his head, chuckling he took her hand in his. “You’re as stubborn as your mother was. Fine, you may fight up there. However, when the invaders make it to your position—”

“If they make it to my position,” she corrected with a smile as she wiped a rogue tear from his cheek.

Losigalender conceded with a smile. “If they make it to your position, promise me—swear to me—you’ll return to me as fast as you can.”

“I promise. Thank you, Father. I’ll make you proud.” With that, Keila stretched up on her toes and kissed her father’s forehead gingerly before turning and jogging off.

“Oh, how I wish you were here, Nica.” Losigalender mumbled to himself as he watched Keila stride away with the grace and self-assurance that made him so proud. “I can’t do this without you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d expressed that sentiment. For days he’d been praying for Chastin’s safety. That night he prayed only for the safety of his daughter.