WIDA

Chapter 8: The Oracle's Warning

Her heart raced at the old woman's words, though she kept her expression calm. Her mind quickly calculated what this oracle's warning could mean. If the Gadir chieftain wasn't coming for peace, then Kadir's visit had been a distraction, a prelude to something far worse.

Obis stepped forward, his voice low and tense. "How do you know this?"

The old woman's eyes flicked to him, and then back to Wida. "I have walked many lands. I listen where others cannot, and I hear whispers carried on the winds. The Gadir chieftain seeks to expand his territory. Your defiance, young chieftain, has caught his attention. He will not let this land slip from his grasp without a fight."

Wida clenched her fists, her chest tight with the weight of her decision. She couldn't afford to ignore this warning, yet she also couldn't be paralyzed by fear. "How long do we have?"

The woman tilted her head, as though listening to something distant. "He will strike in the next moon cycle. His warriors are already gathering. You must be prepared, or this village will fall."

Obis's jaw tightened. "And what do you gain from telling us this?"

The old woman smiled faintly. "I have no stake in your village. But I have seen too much blood spilled over land. I will not see it happen again if I can help it. I offer you this knowledge as a gift."

Wida studied the woman's face, trying to discern if there was more behind her words, but the elder's expression was unreadable. She had the feeling this woman knew far more than she was letting on.

"Thank you for the warning," Wida said slowly. "We will take it to heart."

The old woman nodded, turning to leave without another word. She moved slowly, her figure disappearing into the twilight as though she had always been a part of the shadows.

Obis watched her go, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "I don't trust her."

Wida sighed, glancing at the gate where the old woman had stood. "Neither do I. But we can't afford to ignore what she said. If the Gadir chieftain is truly planning to attack, we need to be ready."

Obis folded his arms, the weight of leadership clear on his face. "We don't have the numbers for a direct confrontation. We need to gather allies."

Wida nodded. "Agreed. There are other tribes nearby who are no friends of the Gadir. We'll send messengers to them, offer them a stake in our success. If we stand together, we might be able to repel the attack."

Obis's expression remained grave. "And if they don't answer?"

"Then we fight alone," Wida said softly, her eyes hardening with resolve. "This land is ours now. I won't let anyone take it from us."

They spent the next few days preparing the village for the worst. Messengers were sent to nearby tribes, and Wida prayed that some of them would respond. In the meantime, Obis organized defenses, training the villagers day and night. Spears were sharpened, traps laid along the valley's entrance, and watchtowers built to keep an eye on the horizon.

But the tension in the village was palpable. Everyone knew that their lives were hanging in the balance, that the freedom they had fought so hard for could be snatched away in a matter of days.

On the third night after the old woman's warning, Wida sat in her hut, unable to sleep. She stared at the flickering firelight; her thoughts heavy with the weight of leadership. This wasn't what she had imagined when they had fled the palace. She had thought they would find peace here, a place to build a new life away from the shackles of royalty. But peace, it seemed, was always out of reach.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Obis stepped in, his face as weary as she felt.

"I've sent the last of the messengers," he said, sitting beside her by the fire. "But I don't think we'll hear back in time."

Wida nodded, staring into the flames. "We'll fight, Obis. No matter what happens, we fight."

Her brother gave a short nod, his jaw clenched. "We will. But it won't be easy."

Wida leaned back, her mind racing through possibilities, strategies, outcomes she couldn't control. She thought of her people—the settlers who had entrusted her with their lives—and she felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on her chest.

"We didn't leave one cage just to step into another," she murmured. "This is our home now. If they think they can take it from us, they'll be sorely mistaken."

The next day dawned with an ominous sky, clouds gathering on the horizon like harbingers of the battle to come. Scouts kept watch along the valley's edge, their eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

It was mid-morning when the first smoke signal appeared, rising from the hills to the east. A scout rushed into the village, breathless and pale.

"They're coming," he gasped. "The Gadir. Hundreds of them."

Wida's heart leapt into her throat. It was happening—sooner than they had anticipated. She grabbed her spear and hurried to the front gate, where Obis was already organizing the villagers into defensive positions.

"Hold the line!" Obis barked, his voice steady even as the air crackled with tension. "We may be outnumbered, but we have the advantage of knowing this land."

Wida stood at the front, her spear gripped tightly in her hand. She could see the distant figures of the Gadir warriors approaching, a dark mass moving across the landscape. Her stomach twisted with fear, but she pushed it down. She couldn't afford to be afraid now.

As the Gadir force drew closer, Wida's eyes caught sight of a single rider at the head of the army, dressed in gleaming armor, his banner flying high. The chieftain.

Her grip tightened on her spear as she steeled herself for the battle ahead.

There was no turning back now.

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