Chapter 1
Munira kneeled in the burned husk of a small home, pushing aside a loose plank to reveal a stuffed rabbit. Ears long and floppy, half its face burned away to expose its cotton packed insides, once pure white, now browned by soot. Heavy air blackened by dying fires burned her nostrils, and townspeople coughed on the smoke. Many picked through the skeletal remains of wood-built structures along a trampled, muddy road. Shovels cut the earth in the distance, sending crows cawing to the trees, where they waited to scavenge any morsels left behind.
“Nasty business it was. You’re lucky to only see the aftermath.”
Munira turned toward the voice. An elderly man stood in the road, a bag over his shoulder, likely holding all he owned. He spoke continental in an old dialect befitting his age. She made the mental adjustment before responding. “Did you witness what happened?” She let the child’s toy drop to the rubble at her feet.
“It was Bahadur’s raiders. They came, took what they could carry, and burned the rest. Few survived.”
“These people remained. Will they rebuild?”
“Nah, this place is done. The ones here will salvage what they can and move to the next town. Get a fresh start. It’s what I’m doing. I suggest you don’t linger too long here alone.”
“Why is that? These people don’t seem threatening.”
“Not them, but the ones who would prey on their weakness.” The old man adjusted his bag on his shoulder and walked off, heading out of the ruined town.
Munira stepped into the road, boot squishing in mud. Her hand went to the hilt of the longsword at her hip. She doubted anyone who would prey on these people posed a threat, but the weapon comforted her.
She walked the road. A group of villagers labored under a large overhanging tree. As she got closer, what they struggled with became clear. Corpses of two men, a woman, and a boy of maybe ten, hung by their necks from a branch over the road. Stripped of their clothing, lines of blood drew down bruised skin and dripped from their toes.
Without a ladder, the villagers groped at the dangling legs. Munira fought down a wave of nausea and removed her bow. “Gentleman, prepare yourselves.” The group turned to her, saw her stringing a bow, and understood. She loosed four arrows, each finding their marks, severing the nooses from the branch. The villagers caught them as they fell, guiding the bodies respectfully to the ground.
“Thank you, ma’am,” a man said as she passed. “Are you from The Legion?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh, I just thought, since you’re Keshenne and can shoot like that, you must be from The Legion. It’s too bad they couldn’t make it here in time to save this village.” He returned to help the others before she could ask further questions.
On a hill near the town, men dug graves for a row of wrapped corpses while loved ones watched, weeping. Munira clenched her jaw and looked away. Why hadn’t anyone defended these people. Where was Emperor Gosen’s defense forces. In Keshenne, a man like Bahadur would get dealt with decisively by imperial forces.
There was a scream followed by laughter. An odd sound amongst the human tragedy. Four boys snickered at an elderly couple who lay on the ground, clutching one another. A boy held the harness of a horse attached to a cart filled with the couple’s meager possessions. Two more picked at the cart for valuables while another threatened the couple with a dagger.
“Perhaps I am mistaken, and you boys are just helping this couple with their belongings. For your sakes, I better be,” Munira said, approaching the group.
“This doesn’t concern you missy, move along.” The one who spoke appeared oldest but couldn’t be over twenty. The youngest looked sixteen at the most. Boys, close to her own age and just street rats. This would call for restraint on her part.
“I won’t let you rob these people. You can continue what you are doing and risk pissing me off or you can move along… missy.” The couple didn’t seem injured too badly, but the man bled from a cut above his eye.
The four turned to her. “I see you got a nice sword on your hip. Even if you can use it, there are four of us. What makes you think you can demand anything?” The boys formed a half circle around her, each brandishing a knife.
Munira undid the buckles that fastened her scabbard to her belt. “This old thing. I don’t know where I found this. Don’t let it scare you off.”
The oldest stabbed. She swept his arm to the side with her scabbard, his momentum bringing him forward, where his nose met her sword’s cross guard. He fell back, blood pouring down his face. She jabbed with her scabbard-tip, catching another in the throat. The next boy approached, blade pointing. She bent, avoiding the attack, then poked hilt first, blade sliding from its scabbard, pommel striking the third in the forehead. The last boy came in, blade glinting. She snared his arm, and rammed her cross guard into his jaw, until his dagger clattered behind her. A front kick sent him to the ground to join his friends, who spat blood into the dirt.
Munira pointed to the leader with her still sheathed blade. “Huh, guess I do know how to use this. I wonder what would happen if I drew the blade. Unless you want to find out, I suggest you consider this a lesson in humility and go lick your wounds.”
“Who are you?” The leader said, blood pumping from a shattered nose.
“I’m an Imperial Ranger representing the Keshenne Empire.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a wood token the size of a coin and flicked it at the leader. The token bounced off his forehead. “That’s for you, something to remember me by.”
“You’re a freak lady,” the leader said as he and his friends ran off.
Munira helped the couple to their feet. “Thank you for your help. We are in your debt, but we have little to offer in payment,” the man said.
“Please take this at least.” The old woman handed her a sack of apples. “We picked these from our tree just before Bahadur’s men showed up. The tree got burned. Now these are all that’s left.”
Munira saw the low sun over the horizon. If she made it to the next town early enough, she could get a room and a bath. Not to mention she’d rather not camp outside near this place. “Tell you what, keep the apples. Let me hitch a ride to the next town in your cart and we’ll call us even.”
