Twelve Realms

Chapter 3

Aerid

I crouch high in the trees, as high as I can go without having to worry about the branch below me failing. I cling to the tree trunk and turn my eyes skyward and try to ignore the sound of screams below me. 

This is the fourth raid this month. The king must be irritated at something, because he's taking it out on us. He always does. 

I take a deep breath and try to reason with myself, to quash the fears that always rise in me during raids. 

Calm down. They don't usually cut down trees during raids. This tree is far enough from the village that they won't suspect you're in it. The closest tree is near enough that you can jump to it without them realizing you're here.

The most logical thing to do right now would be to jump from treetop to treetop, as far from the village as I can get. It's dangerous, sure, but I'd much rather be taken to the next realm after being crushed and bloodied on the forest floor than after what those soldiers will do to me if they catch me. But I can't leave the village. They need me, and after the soldiers are done raiding the village, they'll ride into the surrounding forests, trying to catch any stragglers. 

These constant raids are one of the many things that make me glad that I'm already halfway through my first segment. The Realm of the Forest didn't use to be this bad. It's only after the Trickster managed to escape from his fate to sleep eternally in the River of Winter that the king started punishing us. 

The Trickster was born in this village, and most suspect that he's hiding around here somewhere. That's why we're subject to these raids. Every time they come here they leave empty handed, but I suppose the king hopes that one time he'll get lucky. As if there's a person in the Cursed Village who wouldn't march the trickster to the Temple of the Winter River themselves if they so much as saw him. 

I focus on the sounds below. There seems to be less noise now. Maybe the soldiers are starting to move out? Still, even if they're all already gone, I'm not getting out of this tree. Not yet. It's still too risky. 

What I will do, though, is work my way closer to the village in the treetops. If the soldiers intend to cut down trees around the village they will return with axes and wagons to haul off the lumber. They never bring axes with them on raids. They are far too mellow of a weapon. I still have an hour at the very least. 

I pick my way through the treetops, listening carefully for footsteps and the brutish laughing of the soldiers. As I near the village, I hear the villagers trying to put things back together, conversing in hushed voices, fearing that if they're too loud the soldiers will return. 

I wait in a tree just outside the village and scan for signs of damage. Two things indicate a particularly bad raid- burning or burnt houses, and puddles of muddy blood outside homes. Luckily, I see neither of those two things. I also don't see any smashed glass in the street- though that's no longer as important of a sign as it used to be. The Cursed Village is only getting poorer, and there are only so many times that windows can be smashed before the villagers can no longer afford to replace them. 

After a while, people start to come out of their homes, tend to their wounds, embrace each other, and weep. When I hear a muffled drum beat, I know it's safe to come down from the trees. 

The mayor used to ring a bell, and people used to call the all-clear, but that sometimes made the soldiers return. After some trial and error, we discovered that a quiet drumbeat was loud enough to signal to the villagers and those hiding in the surrounding forests, but not enough to alert the soldiers. 

I climb down and brush the pine needles from my clothes. People are beginning to file into the center of town to hear the brief on how bad the raid was. I fall in line next to Ava, who used to be a hunter until a trapping accident left her with a bad limp. 

"Aerid! You're okay!" she says, her voice wavering. "You disappeared right after they came, and I thought-" 

Her voice falters.

"I went to the trees like I always do. I was fine, Ava." 

"I wish I had that option," Ava laments. "But I do alright in the cellar. I don't think the soldiers know it's there." She says that last part in a hushed voice, as if afraid that they're still listening in on her. 

"Settle down, please," Mayor Arfrid says in his tired voice. Being the mayor of Cursed Village has taken a significant toll on him. 

The mutters of the crowd die down.

"This was thankfully a very mild raid. No one was taken. There were only a few injuries, and the majority of the damage was done to property, not people."

Sighs of relief ripple through the crowd. 

"As always, the injured will hang red cloth on their door so the healthy can assist them. Please stay safe and alert."

With that, everyone files back to their homes. I help fix the more minimal property damage before going to help Mama Dulci. Soldiers raiding her home shoved her aside and she cut her arm on her bedframe. 

"When are you going to leave this village, Aerid?" she asks me as I wash her wound. 

"What do you mean?" Her question confuses me. "Why would I leave?"

"Aerid, you're young and strong. You have talent, potential. Don't spend your life cooped up here. It's not fair to yourself." 

I shake my head. "If all the young and strong people left the Cursed Village, who would help repair the damage? Who would help build new houses? This village prospers because we're a community. We help each other. I'm not going to abandon you. Don't be ridiculous." 

Mama Dulci winces as I rub just a little too hard with the washcloth. "You don't want to stay here."

"Sorry. Of course I do," I tell her. "I need these people. And they need me."

She lays a hand on my arm. "You don't owe us anything, Aerid."

I set down the cloth. "What do you mean?" 

She gives me one of those knowing smiles of hers. "I know what you think. The people of this village may have raised you, but they don't want you to be shackled to this place. You've done enough for us, Aerid. You can't throw your life away constantly rebuilding something doomed to be destroyed."

"The raids will stop eventually. The king can't blame us forever."

"Maybe not," she says, though she doesn't sound like she means it. "This is my last segment, Aerid. I've seen a lot of kings. Kings don't like to take responsibility for things that are within their control. And you may not like to hear it, but I don't think the raids will stop until the king moves on to another Realm." 

"I don't think-" 

I stop. I hear something outside that is all too familiar. But it doesn't make sense. 

The soldiers just left. But somehow, they're back.