“Don’t do it, Clarice,” Vasily said, approaching her with slow but deliberate steps.

  Igor was crouched low. He was scared and injured. Blood trickled from his foot. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t help. And besides, he was terrified. As far as he could see, and as far as he understood, Clarice was holding the bow correctly. He had only seen real archers twice in his life, both times in the forge in Chernoval, where he had once served Visnia.

  Once, a stranger had come to him and asked for three specially crafted arrowheads. Just three. He had wanted them to be hollow. Igor had tried to ask him why, although he had an inkling, but received no answer. Later, Zorina, the blacksmith’s daughter, with whom he was in love, told him about this man. His name was Zuk, and it wasn’t the first time he had come by. He was a skilled archer who made his own arrows but had come to them for this particular request. He didn’t know how to craft hollows. Neither did Igor, but he was good with iron, so he made them anyway. Right there in the forge, Zuk had pulled out a small glass vial, which he poured into each of the three. When he saw that nothing leaked out, he smiled, pulled out a golden bear, and left it on the table. That was almost three times more than Igor had ever received. Zorina told him that it was all for him and not to leave a share for the forge. But he left all his coins anyway and kept the golden bear. He bragged about it for a few days and then lost it or it was stolen. And once again, he was left penniless.

  The second time he saw someone holding a bow, it was Zorina. The forge was in the yard of Visnia’s house and his daughter. One day, Igor accidentally stumbled into the garden between the forge and their house. And he saw Zorina. She was in a light white dress, probably the one she slept in. She was tall, with black hair and black eyes. And she was beautiful, something he couldn’t appreciate in the dark forge where the only light came from the fire. He stood there and watched her. Watched her shoot at a tree. She had only two arrows. She would shoot both, then find them and do it again. The interesting thing was that she always hit the tree. He stood there until she realized he was watching. When she saw him, she yelled at him. And somewhere in there, he fell in love with her. And somewhere there began their love, which provoked her father to chase him away, sending him into the mouth of the wolf. Or rather, the wolves were three—Vasily, Stepan, and Ivanek.

  Now was the third time. If he judged by the previous two, Clarice held the bow well. One hand gripped it tightly, her knuckles white. The other pulled the string, and the arrow there trembled slightly. If she stayed like this much longer, she wouldn’t have the strength to aim. She had to shoot soon if she wanted to do something. Igor hoped she would reconsider. Apparently, Vasily was hoping the same, as he slowly approached her.

  “Think, Clarice!” Vasily extended his hand. “If you want to shoot, go ahead. How many will you kill? You’ll kill me. Maybe one between Stepan and Ivanek. Igor won’t jump at you, he’s injured and a coward. But for sure, one of us will reach you before you reload a new arrow. If you even have another.”

  Clarice’s hands trembled even more. Igor knew she was doomed. And she knew it. Everyone knew it. Even her small son, Fabian, who cried and clung to his mother’s leg, knew it. In his eyes, she was the good one, pointing a weapon at the bad guys. Bad guys who advanced toward her.

  “If I kill you, they’ll flee. None of them can live without you.”

  Clarice’s response wasn’t particularly convincing. In fact, it was something she probably didn’t even believe herself.

  “Maybe so,” Vasily took another step toward her, “but each of them had a life before me. And each survived before we met. Now they just see me as protection. Something I offered to you, too.”

  “I don’t want protection from anyone.”

  “What’s your goal, Clarice? What do you want from life?”

  Clarice’s eyes darted around. She looked at Valeris, then Stepan and Ivanek behind him, then at Igor, lying on the ground clutching his foot. A foot that really hurt, but a wound that wasn’t too deep. Igor had removed his leather boots and was rinsing the wound with the dew from the grass. The arrow hadn’t gone in too deep and had pierced the top part of his leg, but hadn’t gone all the way through. The boots, which the blacksmith Visnia had given him, had saved him from losing his foot. And while his problem wasn’t that serious, soon one between Clarice and Vasily would have one.

  Clarice’s hands trembled so violently that if she didn’t shoot soon, she would simply drop the bow. Igor was sure Vasily saw this too.

  “My goal was to reach Chernoval,” she finally answered him.

  “And?”

  “To marry some lord who wouldn’t mind taking care of Fabian, and for Fabian to learn to fight with a sword.”

  “And that’s your only dream? To bury yourself in some corner of Chernoval, raise children, and become a servant to some lord who’ll grow fat over the years, treat you poorly, and eventually, if he doesn’t die, just treat you like a servant?”

  “I prefer that to wandering these roads, staying dirty and wondering if someone’s going to kill or rape me. And even that’s not my biggest fear. My biggest fear is that Fabian will take this path. That he’ll become like one of you.”

  “The last part is a valid reason. No mother wants her child to become like one of us. Even our mothers didn’t want us to turn out like this. But it happened. Still, without the bow, we can talk better.”

  Igor saw the fear and hesitation in her eyes. Soon it would all be over. The wound on his leg started bleeding again. He tried to stand, but couldn’t hold himself up and fell to the ground again. The noise of his fall made Vasily turn. Whether it startled Clarice or she had already decided, Igor never understood, but the arrow she had drawn shot through the air, passing by Vasily’s head, over Igor’s, and embedding itself somewhere behind them. Igor froze. If he had stayed upright, that would have pierced his skull. But no one noticed this. Everyone stared at Clarice in shock. For a moment, there was silence. Only the sobbing of little Fabian could be heard.

  Vasily stood up slowly and walked toward her. Clarice was on the ground, crouched low, her head buried in Fabian’s shoulder as if he wasn’t a child, but older than her, trembling. Trembling with sobs. The bow lay at her feet.

  Vasily didn’t rush to her. Perhaps he was right. You never know what a wounded woman might do. Igor, in his place, would have done the same.

  “Stay there!” Vasily halted the advancing Stepan and Ivanek. Both froze. Vasily crouched down next to Clarice.

  Igor felt a hand under his shoulder. He looked up. It was Stepan. Igor stood slowly, leaning on him. He managed to balance on his good leg, keeping the injured one slightly lifted.

  Vasily did the same with Clarice. And she was entirely under his control. She stood on her feet and leaned on his shoulder. Fabian was still crying around her, though the tears were gone, only his sobbing remained.

  “It’s getting too feminine here,” Vasily told her and pulled her along. She followed him, no longer the defiant woman from moments ago, but a whimpering puppy Vasily had just kicked. But he hadn’t hit her. “I suggest everyone stop crying because I’m starting to get irritated.”

  “What are we going to do with them, Vasily?” Ivanek pointed at the dead bodies.

  “I’ll deal with them in a bit.”

  They continued toward the strangers’ cart. Vasily left Clarice near it, drew his sword, and cut the ropes of the two horses pulling the cart. He slapped one, and it bolted. Frightened, the other did the same and followed.

  “These horses…”

  “Quiet. I know what I’m doing,” Vasily was more irritated now than when the arrow was pointed at him.

  The cart had no roof and was much worse than the one Clarice had been riding in earlier. It mostly contained hay and a bit of leftover food from the now-dead people who had attacked them.

  “They rode the horses. One of them was in the cart. Probably the big one.” Vasily pointed. He now looked like a big ball of lard.

  “They didn’t come for us?”

  “No. Most likely, that fat one was in the back, and they were giving him a ride. I don’t believe there’s a horse that could carry him. But two could pull him easily.”

  “What do you think they are?” Ivanek also approached the cart and began scattering the hay with a knife.

  “I have a guess, but I’m not sure.” Vasily was feeling around the outer edges of the cart.

  “The Scarlets?”

  “You know about them?”

  Ivanek and Vasily talked as if they were meeting for the first time.

  “Who doesn’t?” Ivanek raised his hands, then sheathed the knife.

  “I don’t think they’re coming back. They’re probably remnants who believe in their ideas. I’ve seen such before, and I’ve killed such before.” Vasily turned to Igor as if he wanted to speak only to him but did so loudly so everyone could hear. “I believe in the Pact and the kingdoms, but I’ve been with them too.”

  “You’ve been with them?” Apparently, no one knew this part of Vasily’s story.

  “I have. But without donning those red rags. Although they tried. They even paid me well.”

  “They really must pay a lot if they want someone to wear that.”

  “You’re right, Ivanek, and you’re not. Such a badge brings you peace. But besides privilege, it’s also a burden. These people go from house to house, taking everything they like. If someone tries to stop them, they’re killed. But not right away. Usually, if they’re in the mood, they torture their prisoner. But they’re also hunted and killed by every kingdom. For them, prisons don’t exist. And if they go East, the Blacks chase them.”

  “The Blades? No, Vasily. They don’t exist.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “They don’t show themselves. Should I remind you of the Battle at the Eagle Bridge and who started it?”

  “Those are just rumors.”

  “There’s a grain of truth in every rumor.”

  “Have you witnessed such tortures?” Ivanek was rummaging through one of the corpses, while Stepan was stripping another. By their expressions, Igor could tell they found nothing.

  “I’d rather spare you that part. It’s a past I don’t want to return to.”

  “Why are they in our lands now?” Igor decided to join in. He felt like he had asked the dumbest question, though judging by the expressions of the others, he didn’t think that was the case.

  “They never left.”

  “I know them too,” Clarice’s voice sounded different. It was still her, but she sounded calmer, more composed, though there were still traces of earlier sobbing in her tone.

  All three turned to her. She stood upright. She was like an apparition. Her red hair fell along her blue dress. Her face was expressionless and pale. She held Fabian’s hand. Her feet were sunk in the mud at the side.

  “When I was little, I had a sister. We lived in Chernoval. That’s where we were born.”

  “The sister you wanted to go to?”

  “No. The first time I spoke of my mother’s sister, but I don’t even know if she’s alive. My plan was the one I told you earlier. I wanted to marry some lord and live my days peacefully.”

  “What have you been doing until now?”

  Clarice looked at Vasily but didn’t answer him.

  “My sister was lured by them.”

  “She became one of the Scarlets?”

  “She was black-haired and tall. She was wild, not like me. We weren’t a poor family. Our mother and father worked for the king. My father was his stableman, and my mother a servant in the kitchen. Lord Zoran, and later his son of the same name, who still rules there, paid them well. Most of the time, we also lived in the Black Castle.”

  “The Black Castle… How it sounds from a woman’s mouth.”

  “I don’t know how my sister met them. She started disappearing and coming back late. And each time, she came back dirty and behaved more and more like a man. In the end, my father couldn’t take it, decided she had shamed him, and kicked her out.”

  “The old man was right. Women are women. And sneaking out at night with other men…”

  “I was the only one who knew what she was doing.” Clarice continued talking without listening to the others. “And I didn’t betray her.”

  “So, the Scarlets have been in these lands for a long time?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them. I’ve only heard about them. From her.”

  “And where is she now?”

  Clarice finally changed the direction she was looking and stared at Vasily, who had sat on the cart of those they had killed and leaned against the hay. Stepan and Ivanek were still rummaging through the dead bodies. They had stripped them naked and piled up everything valuable from them on one side.

  “She came back just before I left. She said she had nothing to do with them anymore.”

  “That’s a lie. No one associated with them just leaves.” Vasily burst out.

  “And how did you leave them?” Igor interjected. Vasily shot him a vicious look. He hadn’t expected him to be so direct. Igor hadn’t expected it either, surprising even himself by asking such a question.

  “I wasn’t part of them. I worked with them. I helped them, and they paid me. And when I needed them, they helped me. Before I had you,” he pointed to Stepan and Ivanek, but not to Igor. “They were my family. Well, family might be a strong word, but they were the only ones I could trust.”

  “My sister managed to escape with the help of a man. She had fallen in love with him. A man of noble birth from the eastern lands.”

  “From Blektor?”

  “No.”

  “There’s no other kingdom there. Just lands, mostly peasants.”

  Clarice glared at him.

  “He was from a great house. Heir to lands. Owner of ships.”

  “And he ran away with your sister?”

  “All I know is that they ran away from their lives. She from the Scarlets, and he from his inheritance. He had money to take her through the roads back, and she had the strength to hide. Not everyone can join the Scarlets. And if she was there, it means she could do something.”

  “Something no one from you had realized she could do.”

  “Yes.”

  “It always happens that way.”

  “Vasily, these turned out to be a bit useless,” Ivanek pointed to the naked bodies on the ground and the small pile of items.

  Vasily jumped off the cart and joined them. He kicked one of the dead bodies.

  “This one will start rotting soon.”

  “Are we going to bury them?” Igor gathered the courage to ask.

  “No. Let them hang as a warning.” Vasily spoke confidently. He took the ropes that had held the horses to the cart and pulled them by hand. They seemed sturdy to him. “Tie them naked to the trees and hang their rags. Let it be seen how we treat enemies of the Pact.”

  Clarice bent down and picked Fabian up in her arms. She turned her back on them and began to walk away. Stepan almost immediately ran after them.

  “Stop, Stepan. I think Clarice understands she has no other choice but to stay with us right now. She’s not likely to run.”

  The woman didn’t even look back. But she wasn’t running either. She moved the child a distance away from them, sat on the ground, and held him in her lap. She watched them from afar. There was no trace of the defiant woman from yesterday. It seemed the attack had broken her. Or the realization that she had no choice. A person without choice and rights slowly dies. That’s something Igor knew from his grandmother. She often repeated it. Only now did he understand it. Though Clarice had a right. She had a right to stand up and walk away. And probably none of them would have stopped her, although that wasn’t very certain.

  “What did you find?” Vasily leaned over the naked bodies.

  “A few coins, two or three knives, some strange stones, and a bit of food. That’s it.”

  “Where’s his sword?” Vasily stood up and looked around.

  Stepan went to the nearby tree and reached behind it. From there, he pulled out the white sword the giant with the Scarlet cloak had carried earlier. The sword was large. Of the three, Stepan was the smallest, and such a weapon didn’t suit him at all. But in Vasily’s hand, it seemed to find its place.

  Vasily held it by the hilt and swung it in the air. The blade gleamed. Only the tip was slightly dirty with dried blood. It was an unusual craft. As a blacksmith, Igor had never made anything like it, but he had heard of such swords. Both the hilt and the blade were made from special white iron found in very few places in the world. It was almost strange how a fat man like this had come into contact with such a sword, but considering his strength, Igor could understand why they had given it to him.

  “Were you trying to hide it from me?”

  Stepan shook his head.

  “I think we’ve struck gold, gentlemen.”

  “It’s ordinary in strength,” Igor interrupted. “Only the metal is different.”

  Everyone turned to him, which made him a little nervous.

  “Aren’t you a good blacksmith, Igor?” Vasily smiled. “Don’t you see what kind of sword this is?”

  “It’s beautiful. And I’m still wondering how it ended up in this guy’s hands.” Igor pointed.

  “Try again.”

  Igor stared at it. He sensed where Vasily was going, but it couldn’t be possible. Not in the hands of a random bandit.

  “This is one of the ten.”

  Ivanek approached. Slightly hunched over, he stared at the sword in Vasily’s hands.

  “Are you sure, Vasily?”

  “Pure iron, silver accents on the white hilt, three rubies. I may be simple, but I know weapons. This is Gleam.”

  “In this fat guy?” Ivanek asked what Igor was thinking.

  “He stole it from someone. Or killed someone for it.”

  Ivanek kicked the dead man again as if trying to wake him up to tell them.

  “What luck, huh?” Vasily continued. “And the fat man used it well until you killed him from behind.”

  “If we hadn’t killed him, he might have attacked you,” Ivanek tried to defend himself.

  “He had already attacked me. And I think I could have handled him myself, Ivanek, but that’s past now. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Stand up.”

  Ivanek looked at him, and Igor stepped aside.

  Vasily grinned widely and, with his new white sword in hand, pointed at Ivanek’s.

  “You want to…?”

  “Yes, Ivanek. What’s unclear?”

  Ivanek slowly drew his sword. He did so with eyes full of fear. His sword wasn’t small, but it was nothing compared to the white one in Vasily’s hand.

  Ivanek assumed a stance and pointed his sword at Vasily. And Vasily was ready. Their small dance was just beginning. Stepan stood beside Igor, laughing. Laughing. That was the interesting part. He even nudged Igor on the shoulder and pointed at them as if he couldn’t see what was happening in front of him.

  Before they started, Igor glanced behind them. Clarice still sat on the ground, watching them from afar. Fabian was in her lap. What was she thinking? Another male whim. Or maybe she was thinking about her chance to kill Vasily. But Vasily was right. She could kill him and maybe one more. But then she’d face an even worse fate. And she wouldn’t achieve much. It was better that she hadn’t succeeded, though he sometimes wished he could kill one of these three. Especially Vasily.

  And Vasily slowly stepped toward Ivanek. It wasn’t long before the first clash of the two metals echoed through the air, cutting everything around them. Vasily smiled so widely. For him, fighting was everything. At least that’s how Igor interpreted his smile.

  Ivanek attacked, but it seemed like he wasn’t giving it his all. And Vasily only parried, not attacking back. He made just one strike, but he did it so skillfully that Ivanek dropped his sword. And just when Igor thought it was all over, Ivanek’s face changed. From surprised and mostly scared, it became more fierce. His gums bared, and his features wrinkled. He reached into his belt and pulled out two more blades. Smaller, but perfect extensions of his hands.

  Vasily laughed and casually wiped his apparent new sword.

  Ivanek leaped. His jump was so good that, for a moment, Igor thought he was flying. He slashed while still in the air. And when he landed, he managed to scratch Vasily’s shoulder, even though he defended himself.

  Vasily’s smile froze for a moment, then reappeared. He stepped back and looked his friend in the eyes. Ivanek still bared his teeth and breathed heavily.

  Vasily assumed a new attack stance, and it was clear. He stopped defending. He started pressing Ivanek. He struck from the left, from the right, and then again. He pushed Ivanek, who seemed better with the two blades, but the weapons were weaker than Vasily’s sword.

  Vasily kept pushing. The two slowly headed toward the wooden cart of their earlier enemies, who now lay peacefully dead on the ground, naked and with nothing. Wherever they were now, they probably didn’t need anything.

  Ivanek’s chances were slowly fading. All he could do was back away and use his last strength to meet Vasily’s blows. Until his back hit the cart. Then Vasily struck the final blow. The large sword, as big as an arm, came down swiftly on Ivanek.

  Vasily’s friend quickly stepped aside, and the sword split one side of the cart.

  That seemed to snap Vasily out of the trance he was in. He left the sword stuck in the cart and stepped back. For a moment, Igor saw surprise in his eyes. But then the smile reappeared. Ivanek lay nearby, close to the dead bodies, breathing heavily. He quickly got up and was ready to attack again. But Vasily left his sword embedded in the cart, turned to him, and extended his hand. He was happy.

  “I think I’ve found a new toy,” Vasily slowly looked around. No one responded. He glanced at Clarice in the distance. She looked back with the same empty stare.

  “If you want to kill me, you’d better do it now.”

  Vasily looked at him with a gaze that seemed more analytical.

  “What nonsense, Ivanek?”

  “The look you gave… You wanted to kill me.”

  Vasily laughed.

  “I’d only kill you if you were in my way.”

  “Like now?”

  “Enough. This was just a practice. Haven’t we trained before?”

  “You’ve never looked at me like that. There was something in your eyes.”

  Igor had seen it too, but he thought he was imagining things.

  Vasily swept his black strands from his eyes and tossed them back into his wet hair. He didn’t reply immediately, and perhaps that was for the best.

  “Call Clarice!” he pointed. “We’re leaving.”

  “Do we have a destination?” Igor decided to ask.

  “While I was sparring with my friend Ivanek, I thought of something,” Vasily pointed to him. “Something you’ll all like.”

  Everyone waited for him to continue without asking more questions. At least, that’s what Igor did. Vasily smiled as before and said just one thing:

  “We’re going to Shilan. And I think you’ll like my plan.”