The Neranthian military did not formally categorize its soldiers by sex. This was not, as later historians have suggested, a matter of progressive thinking. It was a matter of practicality: that elf women who chose the profession were, on average, faster, more precise, and considerably harder to kill than their male counterparts.
The allied Cindorian command spent the first year of the War of the Shattered Spears attempting to understand why. They eventually stopped asking and simply noted it in their field reports as a known variable.
The one quality their accounts consistently failed to explain was what one Cindorian officer described as "a capacity for stillness in the middle of violence that has no equivalent in human soldiers and that I have no military language for."
— The War of the Shattered Spears: A Military History. Compiled for the Cindorian Royal Archive.
The crowd flowed around them as if to swallow them, while they, in turn, swam against the current. At the head walked Harrik with eight or ten men beside him, cleaving through the waves of people and opening a small pocket behind them. Ravah walked just behind them, her batons already in her hands. Veylith came last of all, at the point where the crowd closed in again, keeping them all in her sight. Kaelin was in the middle, as though flanked by an escort, trying to catch up to those in front. The strangeness of the situation seemed to strike no one but her.
A woman in her arms, blood on all of them, a group of people with no connection to each other making their way through open streets in broad daylight. Of course some noticed them, but the city seemed to take no interest. It saw them, and after a brief moment turned its head back to its own business, as though it had more important matters. Until they had entered the building, the streets had been chaos — everyone moving in different directions — and now almost everyone was heading for the same place with the same thoughts. Those who hadn't joined the walking crowd still seemed to be trying to absorb what had happened. Men lost in thought, children who still hadn't grasped what had occurred, women sobbing and holding each other, old men shouting as if to whip the crowd into a frenzy…
Harrik was leading them east, winding through different streets. They could have gone in a straight line, but Kaelin understood he was trying to stay clear of the places where fighting was happening. Moving without getting caught in the middle of any of it was in fact much safer. But the unevenness of the roads, combined with Vaelra's growing weight in her arms, was wearing her down. Vaelra was aware she was drenched in sweat. Even so, there wasn't much she could do beyond trust her.
Though they tried to avoid the fighting, when they turned a corner they nearly walked into the middle of one. Harrik immediately signaled those behind him to halt and directed them into the side alley beside them. He and his men took up position at the mouth of the alley as though guarding a fortress. When Kaelin finally found a crate to set Vaelra on, she brought her down out of her arms, out of breath, and then sank down beside her. Darian and Tivver had come to stand over them and held out the waterskins they'd pulled from their satchels. Ravah watched the other end of the alley. Veylith stood next to Harrik, looking out at the fighting in the street.
Kaelin took the waterskin from Darian and without a thought tipped it back and drank half of what was inside. Vaelra glanced at her with a faint, guilty expression, then reached for the flask Tivver was holding out to her. She took a sip, pulled it from her mouth, and grimaced.
"What the fuck is this, gnome?"
"Rum," Tivver said, in a perfectly even tone. "Would you have preferred water?"
"Of course not," Vaelra said, and tipped the flask back again.
"Whoa, slow down — you'll finish the whole thing."
Vaelra lowered the flask and for an instant widened her eyes, as though a small shiver had brought her back to herself. "Hey — don't I have to drink all of it for it to heal me?"
"This isn't a healing potion, you idiot. Give it here," he said, and took the flask out of her hand.
"Feels like one to me."
Kaelin, hearing the two of them bicker, had leaned her head against the wall with her eyes shut, and smirked. Then Veylith's voice pulled all their attention the other way.
"We can't keep going until this mess is cleared."
"The street's no different from a battlefield. Forget clearing it — even getting into it right now is hard," Harrik answered. It was more or less plain he didn't want to put his men at any further risk.
"I don't have to go all the way in," Veylith said, reaching for the weapons at her belt.
"And how much do you think the sound of gunfire helps us get out of here unnoticed?" Harrik snapped, stepping toward her. With a grunt, Veylith let the weapons drop back onto her belt.
"I can go in alone," she said then, in a lower voice. "But I need two swords, or long daggers."
Harrik knew it was madness, but they needed to get out of here somehow. He stood a few seconds looking into her face, then turned back to the chaos of the street. He laid his hand on the shoulders of the two men in front of him and, bending close, whispered something to them. At that, the two men stooped and drew daggers nearly two hand-lengths long from their boots. Harrik took the daggers by their grips and, tossing both into the air at once, caught them again with a quick, deft motion by the sharp tips. Then he held them both out to Veylith.
Veylith ran her eye over the daggers she had caught by the grips. They were thin, sharp-pointed, double-edged. The hilts, which had looked almost small in Harrik's hand, fit hers perfectly.
She took the daggers and was starting to move for the street when Harrik suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Veylith, not understanding what was happening, had to stop short. Then Harrik drew the sword at his belt and fixed her with a frightening look — or so it seemed to her. "You're not going alone," he said, in his heavy voice.
"Dying out there won't do anyone any good, old man," Veylith answered. It wasn't her actual aim to anger him.
"I've said my piece."
Veylith let out a sigh, half irritation and half weariness, and with a displeased expression said, "Fine. But you come up behind me and cover me. Running in like a madwoman and diving into the middle of the soldiers is my job."
"I know," was all Harrik said. "Because of course you can't help making my job harder," he added, and then turned and signaled his men to make an opening.
Stepping into the street and turning right, he got a better look at the Warden soldiers who'd set up what was almost a barricade in front of the demonstrators. The Wardens in front held the line with their shields, while those behind them struck at the protesters with spears. A simple tactic, but one that had always worked against a scattered enemy. Without turning, he leaned toward Veylith beside him and began, "What we need to do is break the defensive line—" but he didn't get to finish. Something shot past him like an arrow, and the wind of it struck his face.
"Damn it," Harrik swore at once, turning with something close to a roar and starting to run toward the fighting. Veylith was far ahead of him — she had almost reached the defending soldiers already.
Before the oncoming spears could reach her, she picked up her speed still more and dropped to her knees. Then, sliding on her knees, she leaned her back toward the ground until she had brought herself to foot level. Sliding like this, she avoided every spear coming down on her and every shield in front of her, and slipped between the legs of two defending men into their position. As she passed between them she cut both their legs deep enough to nearly take their feet off. While the two men sank to the ground behind her in pain, Veylith rose again on her knees and drove both daggers into the chest of a spearman who had moved to attack her, then pulled them out. With a fluid motion she came to her feet and took position against the other soldiers who had noticed her inside their line.
Harrik came up from behind and began driving heavy sword-strokes down on the two soldiers she'd brought to their knees. Though they writhed in pain and kept hold of their shields, Harrik struck them with tremendous force. When he finally put the men down, the first hole in their defense opened. Taking the opening, he ran another soldier who hadn't yet had time to turn against him through, full-length. Now, with a three-man gap, the rest of the demonstrators on Harrik's side charged with him into the Warden line. Out in front, defending herself alone against the other soldiers, Veylith had taken some wounds. Most of them were from spears coming in at a distance. Just as more Warden soldiers were closing in around her than she could handle, Harrik and the others reached her. While Harrik pushed forward, cutting down unshielded soldiers nearly with a single blow each, the other demonstrators opened a safe space around Veylith.
"Good move," Harrik called out, breath coming hard, setting his back against hers.
"Still not enough," Veylith returned. She wasn't as winded as he was, but the weariness in her voice gave away how much effort she was spending. Then she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. For an instant she calmed — it was almost as if she slowed her body down. When Harrik turned to look at her he saw her eyes were closed. Even for a few seconds, to do this in the middle of a battlefield — to his mind there could be no explanation for it other than madness. The instant Veylith opened her eyes, she sprang forward again and called, "Come on!" as she dove into the Warden soldiers beside her. Even if Harrik's voice didn't reach her through the noise, Veylith was nearly certain what he was shouting.
Veylith began to push her way between the sword and spear soldiers, cutting at their bodies as she went. With agile movements she glided along parallel to the defending soldiers, slipping through the enemy's line. She didn't deal killing blows to the soldiers she passed, but she broke every one of their stances — some of them she even brought to their knees. Killing them wasn't her aim in any case. She was only setting the stage for what was coming behind her.
Harrik came through the path Veylith had opened, scything down soldiers whose defense was already broken. Because their weak points were practically laid out before him, he put most of them down in a single stroke. There were moments when one swing of his sword took down two men at once. By the time they had advanced a visible distance, he saw Veylith change direction and turn left. Toward the defensive line.
Slipping between the soldiers coming at her, taking some of them down as she went, Veylith continued on. She closed in from behind on the soldiers who were thrusting spears at the demonstrators from behind the shields. But here she checked her speed and with hard dagger-strikes killed two of the spearmen. When the others turned to position themselves against her, she went on the defensive, but didn't stand still — she kept moving in between them. Taking wounds here and there, she began to land lethal blows one by one. When Harrik caught up, he too attacked the spearmen and eased her load. Taking the chance, Veylith finally reached the soldiers defending with shields. In the opening Harrik had made for her, she drove both daggers at the same time into the backs of two shielded men's heads. Then she pulled them free and made two full turns around her own axis, moving parallel along the line. At each turn she did the same thing to another soldier. Within a few seconds, four men collapsed one after another where they stood and died without being able to even cry out. With four shielded men fallen in front of the demonstrators, a wide gap had opened. As the crowd poured through this opening into the Warden ranks, the demonstrators filled in around Veylith and Harrik. While the protesters fell on the soldiers, the two of them could at last catch their breath.
The Warden defense had finally broken, and the demonstrators had begun to push the soldiers back. Some of the soldiers went on fighting; some had scattered into the side streets; some had turned and begun to flee. Catching their breath in the crowd, the two of them finally came together.
"Still some use in you, old man," Veylith said, wiping the blood that was seeping from the cut on her cheek.
"You're even more suicidal than I'd thought," Harrik said, still breathless. "But I've never seen anyone move or fight like that on a battlefield."
"That's exactly why the biggest thing you lack is women fighters," Veylith answered. Without waiting for him, she turned back toward the alley where the others were hiding. Harrik, unable to say anything to her back, watched her go, and then he too started walking in the opposite direction from the crowd.
The men guarding the side alley watched them approach now with different eyes. They knew Harrik, but they hadn't known he was this good on a battlefield. Veylith, as she passed between them, they watched as though she were some altogether different kind of creature. "Get yourselves together, we move in a minute," Harrik said, passing between them and into the alley. The first thing he saw was Darian healing Veylith. When their eyes met, Darian said to him, "You're next," but Harrik made a gesture to say there was no need.
"No one asked your opinion, old man," Tivver cut in at once. Then he moved with a cloth to bind up the cut on Harrik's arm.
"I said there's no need," Harrik snapped this time.
"Hey!" Vaelra called at him from where she sat. "Be quiet and let them help you."
Harrik met Vaelra's eyes and, after looking at her for a few seconds, stretched his arm out toward Tivver with a grunt. While Tivver bandaged his wound carefully, Darian came over and quickly began to heal his worst injuries. While they were busy with Harrik, Veylith came over to the others. She leaned her back against the wall and sank down beside Kaelin to catch a little more of her breath.
"Are you in much pain?" Kaelin asked at once, taking her wrist almost by reflex.
"No, I'm fine," Veylith said, flinching for an instant. "I just need to catch my breath."
Kaelin didn't pull her hand back all the same. She held her wrist gently, and the same glow appeared in her hand again. She knew she was in pain, and it was no surprise to feel that. But what really gave Kaelin pause was that she was also feeling guilt. It was as though, somewhere deep, she was mourning the men she had killed. The time before, she hadn't felt this. Probably because she'd been trying to save her own life then, Kaelin thought. But this time…
"The road's clear at last," one of the men watching the street called out.
Hearing this, Harrik said, "That's enough," and waved Darian and Tivver off of him. Then he turned to the others. "You've rested enough." He said nothing more. As everyone began pulling themselves back together, the glow in Kaelin's hand stopped and she opened her eyes. Veylith, for her part, looked at her for a short moment as though she'd understood what she had been doing — what she had been trying to ease. Then, as Kaelin stood up, she slid her hand down from Veylith's wrist to her hand and gripped it tightly. As she rose, she pulled Veylith up with her.
When Veylith, without letting go of her hand, stood in front of her, she looked at her for another few seconds. Because of the difference in their height, Kaelin was looking up at her now. "That… did me good," she said, not taking her eyes off her. Kaelin said nothing, only smiled at the corner of her mouth.
"Ahem, ahem," Vaelra cut in suddenly. At that, the two of them pulled themselves together and stepped apart. While Veylith straightened the belt and weapons at her waist, Kaelin bent toward Vaelra. She lifted her carefully into her arms, and was ready to walk again. Through all of it, neither of them looked at Vaelra. Vaelra, with a sly smile on her face, went on watching them.
When Harrik called "Come on!", they all moved together and came out of the alley. The crowd had filled the street again, but there was no sign of the Warden soldiers. Other than the bodies on the ground. Harrik and his men were out in front, this time moving along the side of the road, and the others followed behind them. As they passed the Warden bodies the demonstrators had piled in the middle of the street, every one of them glanced at the sight — except for Harrik and Veylith. When they had gone a little further, the street grew emptier and emptier. With the fighting in this area resolved, the protesters had turned either toward the nearest source of noise or back toward the center. No one was going their way.
At last the end of the road came into view, and beyond it the walls rising up. Taller than a three-story building, the walls were five paces thick, and they wrapped around the city and stretched all the way to the sea. They were built of great stone blocks almost as tall as a dwarf, and in some places, where the ground beneath them had given way, they had an uneven — even wavelike — look.
There was only a single block left between them and the wall, but instead of continuing on, Harrik turned left again. It was a move the others hadn't been expecting, but they went on following him without making a sound. When they reached the end of the street they had turned into, Harrik raised his hand and signaled them all to stop. They came to rest at a corner in front of a large workshop. It was a big workshop that produced wooden barrels, and in front of it stood a platform nearly as tall as Tivver. On the platform were pieces of wood left to dry and barrels waiting for varnish. Harrik had crouched behind the platform, his head poking out around the corner and looking to the right — he seemed to be watching something.
After watching the street leading to the city walls for a while, he turned to the others. "Looks like we'll have to wait here a little."
"Here? Why?" Tivver asked impatiently.
"Just go in, come on," Harrik answered, pointing to the workshop's door, raised above street level and reached by a short flight of steps.
As they all moved quickly into the workshop, the smell of wood they'd been breathing outside was joined inside by the smell of hot iron and resin. It was like a blacksmith's shop, but with much less scent of soot. The smell given off by the resin was more fruit-like than woody. There was also much less dust than in a tanner's workshop. Almost all of them ran their eyes over the wood waiting to be cut and the shaped pieces of iron inside. Kaelin lowered Vaelra onto the first sturdy barrel she found. Harrik was the last one in, and shut the door behind them.
"Looks like no one's home, but if anyone comes we could be in trouble," Tivver said, sniffing at the resin on the workbench.
"Relax — I know the owner of this place. If he were here he'd help us anyway," Harrik said, walking past him. He went straight to the window that looked out onto the other road. On each of the broad workshop's street-facing sides there were two large windows and one door. Besides the doors, goods could also be passed out through the windows onto the platform outside. When they were all open, the windows lit the interior completely, but they were shut now. Only the light slipping through the slats of the shutters was lighting the place. Harrik pushed one of the shutters open and started watching the road leading to the walls again.
"How long are we waiting?" Veylith said, coming up behind him.
"Doesn't look like it will be very long," Harrik answered, not taking his eyes off the outside.
"How are we getting out?"
Harrik scanned outside for a few more seconds, then opened the shutter a little wider. "Through there," he said, pointing with his hand. When Veylith looked where he was pointing, first she saw the city walls, and then, a little further back, the building at the end of the road. A Warden outpost, with soldiers gathered in front of it.