A Whisper of Night

10.3 || ASTNORDEN 💫

Lord Denling's men arrived. In their hands were the rope and sacks she'd asked for, and on their faces were expressions of pure confusion.

"Cut all these rushes down," Astna ordered. "I want them tied and bundled before me, in the size and shape of that scarecrow. Don't worry about perfection - just hurry. Go!"

The men set to work, a few giving her confused looks. Still, her victory seemed to have secured their trust in her...for now.

"Lord Denling," she said, "are all of our communications sealed from Gofrae and Ormina?"

"Yes," he said, "I think so."

"No - make sure of that. Nobody leaves this camp before we set out - we can't risk letting the cities learning about this now."

He nodded and headed off once more.

"Get a new horse, too!" she called after him, but she wasn't sure if he heard.

The men were busy cutting down the grass, chopping off long strands, tying them with rope, and tossing them at Astna's feet.

When the first bundle was down, she picked up a burlap sack and secured it clumsily over the grass. It looked like the lumpiest, messiest cylinder ever made...but it would do.

Two bundles, then three and four and five, were tied together. She assigned ten men to placing them in the sacks and went to help in the fields. The smoke still hadn't left the skies - she hoped that they'd have at least a few more hours after the sun came up....

Ten, eleven, twelve. Still her men chopped. She herself tried to handle a blade, although the funny look Elsking gave her was enough to stop her. She contented herself with tying together the bundles of rushes instead.

Fifty-three, fifty-four...someone had started counting out the number of bundles. When they reached seventy, Astna grinned - even if they didn't make it to a hundred, they'd be safe.

"A hundred!" called one of her men. Astna glanced up at the sky - the smoke was still thick, the night still black. They'd have time for a few more.

"Go for a hundred and twenty!" she shouted back.

By the time they were finished, Astna's hands were red and raw, her legs sore from squatting.

"Take these down to the port," she commanded, "and find some more rope. Come on!"

Her men sprinted towards the harbor, each of them lugging one bundle of straw. A few of them still looked confused.

They passed the camp on the way to the ships. Astna's men cut a path through the camp, shielding from the men of Nyclein, but she could still feel their eyes on her, burning, accusing. It didn't matter how many hollow promises she made - she'd never be able to give back what she'd taken.

Nyclein Port stood at the north shore of one of the Sister Rivers. Lord Denling's men already occupied the boats, laughing and talking and eating. It seemed strange that they'd be so happy when the men just a few paces behind them had lost everything.

"Your Majesty!" shouted one of them, standing up. "All hail the Queen!"

The rest of her men shot to their feet, bowing their heads, their faces awash with easy joy. They've earned a rest, she thought, but there are too many battles yet to fight....

"You may sit," she said. She nodded at the bundles. "I want each of these bundles secured to the foremasts of the boats. Two or three to each cog, five or six to the longships. I want the entire front of the boat to be concealed."