“Your home was attacked by De’Unnero!” Diamanda exclaimed.
“He did not say that he followed the man,” Elysant cut in.
“Need it be one or the other?” Thaddius said. “Perhaps there is good in what Father Abbot Braumin is trying to do…”
“But perhaps there was truth in De’Unnero, too, yes? And in Markwart before him?”
Thaddius stared at her but didn’t respond.
“It galls you that we are in the Church now,” Diamanda asserted.
Brother Thaddius didn’t reply, but did glare at her.
Elysant hopped over to sit on the fallen log beside the man, and put her arm about him. He looked at her with a shocked expression, and she kissed him on the cheek. “You will come to love us, brother,” she said with a grin.
Thaddius didn’t reply, but this time because anything he tried to say would have been stammered gibberish. He was quite relieved when Elysant moved away again, to the laughter of the other two.
“We will prove ourselves,” Victoria said then, and in all seriousness. “That is all we ever asked for, brother, a chance to prove worthy of the Church we all love.”
“And does loving the Church count for nothing with you?” Diamanda added.
Thaddius looked down into the bowl of stew, and lifted another steaming bite to his lips.
Diamanda started to speak again, but she was overruled then by a gruff, unexpected voice.
“Yach, but there ye are, ye blasted monks,” came a call from side, through the trees, and the four looked over to see a group of squat and square figures coming their way.
Short and powerful warriors wearing distinctive red berets.
“Powries,” Diamanda whispered.
Elysant moved as if to reply, but she really couldn’t get any words past the lump in her throat. She looked to Thaddius, as if expecting, hoping, praying that he would launch some lightning of fire, or some other enchantment to blow these monsters away! But he sat as wide-eyed and dumbstruck as she.
“Be ready,” Victoria whispered harshly from the side. “We have prepared for this!”
“Ye said ye’d be meeting us in the morn, and so ye was nowheres to be found!” the powrie grumbled.”
“Yach, but never could depend on weakling humans,” said another, and he spat upon the ground.
There were five of the dwarves at least, moving in a tight but disorganized bunch straight through the trees toward the camp. They all carried weapons, an axe, a spiked club, a couple of long and serrated knives, and the one in the middle, the primary speaker, held something that looked like the bastard offspring of a double-bladed axe and a handful of throwing daggers, all wrapped together into a long-handled weapon that seemed like it could do damage from about ten different angles all at once!
To the side, Victoria slowly picked up her short bow.
“They think us allies,” Thaddius whispered.
“Well, see, then, what your words might do,” said Victoria, who appeared very calm through it all, more than ready to fight. He hand held steady the bow, her other eased an arrow from the quiver she had set upon the ground against the log she used for her seat. When she got that one out, she stuck it in the ground beside her foot, in easy grasp and began subtly reaching for the next one.
That movement, so calm, so practiced, so mindful of the lessons of Pagonel, proved infectious for the other two sisters. Elysant moved off the log, but stayed in a crouch, quietly bringing her quarterstaff up before her, while Diamanda slowly shifted around the back of Elysant, putting the defensive Disciple of St. Belfour in the middle, between herself and Victoria.
“Quite far enough,” Thaddius said, standing up. “What do you want?”
“Eh?” the powrie asked, and he stopped as did the four flanking him.
“We said we would meet you in the morning, at the appointed spot,” Thaddius bluffed. “Tomorrow morning!”
“Not what was said,” the dwarf replied. “And not said be yerself, either.”
“Yach, who’s this one, then?” asked another of the powries.
“Ain’t seen him before,” said yet another.
The one in the middle, clearly the leader, patted his thick hands in the air to quiet them. “In the morning, meaning tomorrow morning, eh?” he asked, his voice conciliatory and reasonable.
“Yes, when we join with the others,” Thaddius replied.
“Where might they be?” asked the dwarf. “Over in the farmhouses, then?”
Thaddius looked around at his allies, searching for some answer. “Aye,” he blurted. “That’s where we were to meet them, and with important news from the west. And in the morning, tomorrow morning, we’ll all gather and talk.”
The dwarves looked around at each other, a couple mumbled under their breath, too low for the monks to hear.
“Ah, but I’m losing me patience,” said the leader. “Right at dawn then, and don’t ye be late!” he spun about and slapped the dwarf near him on the shoulder, and the group started away.
“By God,” Elysant breathed a moment later. “Bloody cap dwarves!”
“We should move, and quickly,” Thaddius advised, and the two women nearest him nodded.
“No,” said Victoria, surprisingly, and when the three looked at her, they noted that she had set an arrow to her bowstring, two others stuck into the ground in easy reach. “They will be back,” she quietly and calmly whispered. “Ready your gemstones, Brother Thaddius. Diamanda, slip off to the side and put that cat’s eye circlet to use.”
“How can you know?” Elysant asked, but Victoria held up her hand to silence the woman.
On Victoria’s lead, the three slipped back a bit, to the edge of the low glow of the campfire.
And waited. Their hearts thrummed, but every passing moment seemed an eternity.
“You will stay close, but behind Elysant, Brother Thaddius,” Victoria reminded.
“I am the leader,” Thaddius replied.
“Elysant, dear sister, fall back on your training,” Victoria quietly encouraged, ignoring Thaddius. “Remember the arena. Those brothers were formidable, yet not one got a strike past the swift movements of your quarterstaff. We are ready, sister.”
“We are ready, sister,” Elysant echoed.
“Right, southeast!’ came Diamanda’s call from the side, just as the dwarves appeared again before them, four this time, weapons high and charging through the trees.
Victoria stepped forward, right before Elysant and leveled her bow, pointing out in the general direction Diamanda had indicated.
“Two fingers left,” Diamanda corrected, and Victoria shifted and let fly.
“They come!” Thaddius warned, but Diamanda noted movement in the woods and knew that her arrow had not missed the mark by much. She reached back and grabbed a second, and that, too, flew off, and this time, they heard a grunt as it struck home!
“They are here!” Thaddius cried. “Swords! Swords!”
Victoria ignored him altogether, reaching for the third arrow, trusting in her sisters.
Elysant leaped past her, back by the fire, and smashed her quarterstaff across it, launching a spray of embers into the faces of the charging dwarves. The two to the left fell back in surprise, the next in line to the right stumbled and grabbed at his stung eyes, and the one furthest right lifted an ugly knife and leaped in at the woman.
But coming behind it, beside it, and past it, with a great malachite-aided leap, came Diamanda, and she swept her hand across the side of the powrie’s face as she went, only her hand wasn’t a hand, but a great tiger’s paw. The dwarf howled, grabbed at its torn face and stumbled right into its nearest companion, who was also off-balance.
Diamanda landed and side-stepped fast as Elysant cut before her, sliding down to her knees and thrusting her staff into the midst of the tangled legs of the two dwarfs. Up she came immediately, the tip of her quarterstaff planted, and she used the leverage to pitch both the dwarves to the side.
Into the fire.
At the same time, Victoria saw her target clearly, the powrie racing in at them, an arrow sticking from one shoulder, its axe up high over its head. She shot it in the face and it fell away.