---- An impenetrable army. An insatiable vanguard. Eternal stalwarts. All eight of them. Sons of the
smith, all as tall and toned as any young man could hope to be, made half of her force. None were
quite as old as Ash, though all overlooked her. The rest stood before her too; a miller, a gouty
baker, a foreign merchant, and an old knight.
"It's not enough fighters," Ash grumbled to the old knight.
"No," He agreed. "But it's all we have."
"What about the women?" Ash asked.
--- "The women?"
--- "Yeah, there must be at least ten more women of fighting age."
"Women aren't safe in battle," Caro awkwardly protested, fully aware of who he spoke to.
"Nobody's safe in battle, it's a bloody battle. Women are in no more danger than men," Ash
grunted.
"Yes... You are," Caro sighed. "A man may face his death, be it quick or slow, but they will not be
so merciful to the women."
"They will face that same fate if we lose. The men will all die, and the women will face their
'mercy'. Should they be denied the right to fight?" She asked.
--- "It would make no difference in the end. Fight or no, they are simply too many and we are
simply too weak."
--- "But we don't need to beat them, we simply need to hold out until the Baron arrives."
--- "That could be two days. The walls won't hold."
"Then we let them fall and put our faith elsewhere." Ash turned from the line up and looked out to
her village; the hillocks and the houses set into them.
"Elsewhere?" He asked, trying to match her gaze but finding nothing of note.
A thought found Ash, fleeting and almost silly but one that clung to her mind.
"Tunnels," she muttered. "We dig out tunnels."
"And flee?" Caro guessed.
"And attack," Ash corrected.
--- "We haven't the time to dig out any great network. They will attack tonight at the latest."
"Sai-Weleg, I may have a suggestion," Vamet bowed from his place in the lineup.
"By all means," Ash said, her mind still focused on some far-flung plan.
"Well, it is simply that, within my modest remaining stocks, I have a measure of infernal powder. I
would be willing to donate it to your cause," he said in his ever-elegant sales tone.
--- "Infernal powder?"
"Indeed. Yellow and foul as the hells for which they are named. Not to mention, noxious as it
comes," Vamet bowed.
"Noxious?" Ash dumbly asked.
--- "Is this not the word? I apologise, I know I am inadept in your tongue."
"It is the right word, master Vamet," a little voice giggled from behind her. "She just has a bare
grasp of her own language."
Ash turned to meet little steel eyes. Her sister stood there, no longer in her dresses or frills. She
wore huntress' garb. Leather padded armour, barely fitting on her tiny frame. A quiver of
quarrels strapped to her thigh and a light crossbow slung over her back. She was ready for war.
"Ev?" Ash questioned. "What are you doing here?"
"Fighting for my life," he said with an innocent smile.
"No," Ash quickly cut off. She stormed over to the young girl. "You're fourteen, Ev, you aren't
going to fight."
"She can't fight?" Carolet said in a strange tone. "Your father can't fight. What about your
mother? Why do you expect everyone else to fight and sacrifice their families when you won't do
the same?"
"I amfighting," Ash insisted. "But she's too young."
"What about him?" Carolet pointed to the line of men. The furthest of them, the smith's youngest
son, looked at her with a hopeful shine. He masked his smile well, but it was blatant in his stance –
and fidgety bounce – that he was excited. "He's not a year older than her. Is he to die, but not
her?"
"You said it yourself; she's in more danger," Ash protested, subtly moving closer to Caro.
--- "And you said it yourself; it doesn't matter."
"Ash!" Evara shouted as Ashtik instinctively squared up to the old knight. She stepped between
the two and looked to Caro. "Our father cannot fight. The cancer has spread too far, he will be
useless," she said, and it was final. Then she turned to Ash, with a hand on her shoulder – pushing
her back. "I am here to fight, with or without your permission, but I offer more than a few bolts
from my crossbow." She shoved Ash back half a pace before storming over to Vamet.
"Your infernal powder, it is what we call phoenix ash."
"What?" Carolet gasped. She ignored him and turned to the eldest of the smith's sons.
"How much peat and pitch do you have?" She demanded.
--- "I... Err..."
"Child, it's a war crime!" Carolet protested.
"It's a crime because it works," Evara insisted.
--- "It's a crime because its evil. You don't know what that stuff does."
"Yes... I do," she slowly, and coldly, stated.
--- "No, you don't. You might have read of the alchemy and its effects; but war fire sticks to the
flesh. It melts the eyes. It boils your blood while you still stand and scream. It burns the air from
within your lungs. It is evil."
"You have faced this before?" Ash realised.
"Yes... My liege used it to win a losing battle. It is the reason I left the life. It is the reason I came
here." He spoke with shame, with regret. He spoke as though his answer was half a truth he had
sworn to himself never to speak.
"And your liege... Was he tried for his crime?" Ash mercilessly pressed.
"I-" he stammered. He wanted to lie, to stop her; instead, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes
filled with dread. "No, he was made a king."
Ash made up her mind. She stood to Evara's back. "You can make this war fire?"
--- "We have all the ingredients. It will not be as potent as the real stuff, but we can substitute
the cave salt easily enough."
"You will not forget this action, Evara. Not so long as you live," Carolet seethed.
"But she will live to regret it. That is more than your 'noble' path offers her," Ash snapped. She
dismissed him back to the lineup and turned her imperious gaze to the eldest smith.
"As she said, smith. How much peat and pitch?"
"Much, white hair. Twelve kein at least," he answered in a tone much too timid for a man of his
size.
--- "Is that enough, Ev?"
"Plenty. I will get to work. Tell the big one to bring the barrels to the Elder's house," she said,
already bouncing away to her new laboratory.
"How does she know of war fire?" Carolet whispered once the younger was out of earshot.
"It must have been in one of her scrolls," the thought disquieted her mind from its strategizing.
The idea that she had unknowingly given her ward the recipe to a war crime was not one she
cherished. "It doesn't matter right now."
"Very well," Caro nodded. "What is your plan?"
"I- I-" Ash stuttered. Her strength and voice quivered as she looked to her lined men, and they all
looked over her.
--- "You do have a plan, right?"
"I- I think so," she said, too quietly for the others to hear.
"But you lack for the voice," Caro sighed, realising in an instant that Ash was shrinking away. "I
suppose I thought a life-or-death battle might conquer your shyness."
"I- I have a plan," Ash said with as determined a whisper as she could manage.
"And I will relay it," he said with an almost fatherly patience.
---- "Gentlemen," Sir Carolet announced after hearing her out. "We have in this moment, an
opportunity. For each man, we offer a task. Miller, strip the houses for wood and pile it up around
the Elder's hut. Do it quickly and well. Baker, go with him."
Caro paused for a moment, looking the man in the eyes with impatience. It took a second, and a
directed cough, before the miller realised that he was dismissed. Then he dashed away with a
limping bounce.
"Smiths," Caro continued. "Take the wood and build a wall around the Elder's home. Make it
solid... Our lives will depend on it. And you boy-" he stepped before the eldest son. "Take all the
barrels inside."
"Aye," the eldest grunted, and he was off without another word.
"C'mon boys, let's get to grafting," the smith bellowed before storming away.
"And me, Sir Knight?" Vamet inquired.
"I- I would ask another favour," Ash chirped as all others left them. "I don't suppose you have
anything more for us, beyond your infernal powder that is?"
"I am afraid not, White-Hair. Unless, of course, you intend to win the day through well-seasoned
meals?" Vamet said with a strained laugh.
--- "Right... Then I ask that you speak with the women of fighting age. I ask that you convince
them to fight."
"You ask me to do this?" Vamet said in protest. "I am a stranger here!"
--- "You are more charming as a stranger than I as a neighbour. Convince them, I beg you."
It took no more than that. The heart in her eyes brought purpose to Vamet's tongue, and with her
plea, he made away – already practicing his sales voice and most flirtatious of glances.
"And of me, 'Champion?'" Carolet asked with little effort in masking his distaste.
"I would ask your advice, Caro," she meekly said.
--- "My advice would be to stop this course of mad action."
Ash could say nothing back but to grunt in frustration, but he heeded her disapproval as much as
she heeded his.
"Maybe Temujin was right," Caro sighed after a tense moment. "Maybe this is a day sent by the
gods. A lesson... or a choice."
--- "A choice?"
--- "The gods offer you death, a release from their servitude and a good path to be a good
woman. Or they offer you victory, and all the blood that comes of it... Corruption, or death."
--- "So, I can be a slave or a corpse?"
--- "You can be a hero... or you can live. If this war flame is the first choice you make as a holy
Champion: What will you look like when you truly ascend?"
"I'd look alive," Ash scoffed.
--- "I wouldn't be so sure..."
"Look," Ash snapped. "I need your advice, not your philosophy."
"Then I am here to advise, my good lady," he sardonically bowed. It took an effort to ignore his
tone and simply return to her plan.
"Where will they attack?" she sighed.
"Everywhere," he answered, though he caught the truth of her question after a half second. "The
main gate," he corrected. "They are arrogant and out for blood."
"Will they climb the walls?" She asked.
--- "If we man them. They will face our challenges gladly."
--- "So, if we man the gate wall. They will climb over instead of breaking the gate?"
--- "I believe so."
She looked at the gate. Its rusty old bars had stood for nearly a century. Each rivet was original,
there from the days of the first villager. It was the first thing she could remember of the village.
It was so unnatural. So man-made. The villagers lived in holes in hills, ate from the nameless
forest and walked among barefoot grasses. Then there was this massive mound of forged iron
that held the world at bay.
It dripped with grease and oil even in the middle of a rainstorm. It had rained none-stop all day,
yet if she ran a finger across it, her finger wouldn't have a drop of water on it; only a layer of
black oil. She always imagined a single spark would set the entire wall alight, though Evara had
told her that it was a different kind of oil that could be lit... An infernal kind.
She always imagined a single spark would set the entire wall alight...
"Then we burn the wall," she whispered.
"We what?" Caro coughed. "The wall is our only advantage. We can't burn it!"
"But if we lose the wall; when we lose the wall. If we cover it in your war fire, how long would it
burn for?" she pondered.
"A long... long while," he whispered, a hint of hope finding him.
--- "A day?"
--- "Or more..."
--- "Then we douse the walls, and light them as they cross."
"Then we retreat to Temujin's house. Hold them back for however long we need." He even
seemed to smile, though it lacked much lustre. His new hope was tempered with a lifetime of
agony and disappointment. He couldn't muster the vigour and excitement of youth, of
inexperience.
--- "Then we must work quickly and hope the gods are on our side."