Storms May Come – Chapter 6
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“Less than three weeks to be ready for a battle against thousands?!” a villager named Bartram exclaimed. He was a lean middle-aged man with a hooked nose who was distrustful of everyone, especially the Sirens.
“We have already finished the walls, and we have the aid of the Sirens,” I replied. “We can be ready.”
“This is what aligning with the Sirens has gotten us,” Bartram continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The King would have never sent this many men against our small town before.” He crossed his arms and glared at me.
“But he did send men against us, or have you forgotten? It wasn’t even a contest then, and now we are far better prepared,” Fina spoke up.
“That was only a few hundred men. Now it is thousands. And they know of the Sirens. They will be better prepared as well,” Bartram argued.
“What do you propose we do then, Bartram? Surrender? Firth and Fina can tell you what the dungeons are like,” I said.
“I for one will not surrender,” Firth declared. “I know what it is like to live in poverty in Zorin, handing over what little I have to that King. I know what it is like to carry my son out of Zayin’s dungeons, beaten and broken,” Firth’s voice thickened at the last words, as if holding back a sob. “I would rather die than allow them to take him again.”
Firth’s words hung in the air. The words of the villagers from Zorin carried much weight with us. They were the only ones who knew exactly what fate awaited us if we did not win this battle.
A man put a hand on Firth’s shoulder. “I for one will have your back, Firth. I’ve a boy of my own, and I won’t let those bastards take either of our sons…any of the children in Calder.”
Cries of “Ay! Ay!” and “They won’t take them!” rang out in the town hall. Bartram scowled, but he knew we had no other choice but to fight now. We had made our decision back when we took off Dreven’s hand, and there was no going back now. I knew Dreven and his brother the King wouldn’t stop until we were all dead or imprisoned.
“Thanks to Fina, we now have almost three weeks to make final preparations. Let’s not waste it,” I said. “Ailsa,” I turned to the little girl who insisted on attending every council meeting and had proclaimed herself the Ambassador to the Sirens. “I have a mission for you. Would you alert the Sirens that we will be attacked in three weeks? We need them to be prepared, as well.”
“Right away, Miss Aelesia,” she answered, before running from the room. The girl seemed much older than her 7 years. I supposed a hard life could do that to a child.
Once she had left, I heard a throat clearing and looked toward the sound. It was Julien, Firth’s son. He stepped forward and glanced nervously at his father. “I request permission to fight. I know the council decided that only boys of 15 could join the battle, but I’ll be 15 in just 3 months and I fight as well as the other boys, just ask Fina. Now that I am well, I can begin training. I’ll be ready when the soldiers arrive.” The boy finally paused, lifting his chin.
“He does have a natural talent for the sword,” Fina responded, glancing at Firth. “He joined the other boys for the first time this morning. He was able to hold his own with no training, as of yet. I think he could be a fine fighter, but I believe the decision should rest with his father.”
To Julien’s credit, he didn’t whine or beg his father, like a child would have done. He stood straight and tall as a soldier awaiting orders from his general. Firth held his son’s gaze for a long moment. He gave one sharp nod of his head.
“I suppose I cannot protect you any longer. You’ve been through hell, my boy,” Firth’s eye welled up, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “And you deserve to get your revenge as much as I do, more so even.”
Julien didn’t smile when he got his way. Fighting wasn’t something he wanted, it wasn’t a game, it was something he had to do.
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We expected the army of Zorin to arrive any day now. Fina and her Shadows kept a constant watch, so we would be alerted at the first sign of the soldiers’ presence. The Sirens kept closer to shore for the time being. They seemed almost too eager for the battle to come. It was times like these that I remembered that Sirens were designed to be predators of men.
Tensions in Calder were high, between fear of the army closing in and those who were uncomfortable with the constant proximity of the Sirens. Men like Bartram weren’t stupid enough to pick a direct fight with Sirens, but they stopped going out on their boats and instead spent their time grumbling and complaining. I did my best to keep them busy with battle preparations.
By now we had stockpiled food and supplies inside the town walls, and every villager with the ability to fight had a weapon. Days consisted of training in the mornings before the sun reached its peak, and making more arrows and musket balls after the mid-day meal. Those who weren’t training to fight made bandages and ointments and cooked the meals. Every villager aided in some way.
It was about an hour after dark, as we were meeting to discuss strategy once again, that one of the Shadows pushed through the doors. “They’ve camped for the night about 4 miles out,” he said at once. “Dreven will be here with the King’s army by morning.”
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What do you think of the story so far? Are you looking forward to the final battle? Let us know in the comments! Check back in 2 weeks for Chapter 7!
Thanks so much for reading!
-Clever & WTF
