CHAPTER 880: RAEK VILLAGE PREPARES FOR WAR

Within the walls of Raek Village, Sir Rhodri Belvin sat astride his aging horse, wearing armor he never thought he’d don again as he shouted orders to the common people of his village.

"There is still room in the manor for women and children younger than twelve," Rhodri shouted as he waved for more villagers to enter the rambling home that served as the knight’s manor in the village. The central hall was large enough to hold close to fifty people during a feast, and more than a hundred could be packed in if they removed the tables.

Removing the tables and placing them in the village square as an improvised barricade had been one of Sir Rhodri’s first orders when a farm boy came running not long after first light, claiming that a caravan of demons was marching toward the village. Word had slowly trickled in from other farmers who had spotted not only the demons, but humans who might be captives.

"There’s no more room in the great hall," a heavily pregnant woman with long, straight hair the color of straw said as she directed mothers and their children as they approached the manor. "There is still room in the east wing, don’t mind who the rooms belong to, just find a place where you can take shelter and stay quiet. If we run out of room there, then there are the storehouses and root cellars under the west wing, but it’s cramped and dark in the cellars, so start by going to the family chambers on the east side," she said.

Olwyna moved through the crowd like a stiff-limbed puppet with one hand always resting protectively over her swollen belly as she guided families toward safety. A few weeks ago, every time she touched her belly, her eyes lit up and a smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the day she would welcome her first child into the world. She thought of how wonderful it would feel to hold her baby to her breast while Carwyn cradled both mother and child in his strong, muscular arms.

It was a simple dream, one that any expecting mother might have, but the demons had snatched it away from her. She’d barely slept since the caravan failed to return, and when she did manage to drift off, her dreams were filled with images of her beloved Carwyn lying broken on some distant battlefield while creatures with claws and fangs picked over his remains.

The strange, bitter cold that had settled over the village yesterday only made it worse, as if all the light and warmth of the world had been drained away along with her husband’s disappearance.

"Your ladyship," a young mother said, stepping close enough to Olwyna to offer her a steadying hand. She was carrying a small child who had just been born at the beginning of summer, but she looked at Olwyna with eyes that said they were the same, despite the difference in their stations.

"You shouldn’t be out here in the cold like this," the young woman said as she took in the deep shadows under Olwyna’s eyes and the stiff, unsteady way that she moved about the village square. "Let one of the others take over for you..."

"It’s fine, Sidra," Olwyna said hollowly as she gave the young mother a reassuring touch on the small of her back and guided her toward the manor. "Carwyn isn’t here, so Father-in-law has to take his place. Since Sir Rhodri can’t tend to this, then it’s my place to step up."

"Now go. My little one is warm in my belly," she said as she stroked her stomach, feeling the faint movements of the child in her womb. "Yours can’t be out for long in this cold. So go," she said, giving the young mother a small shove before turning to look at the figure of her father-in-law as he sat atop his horse, projecting an aura of confidence that few could match in the face of a demon raid.

"Anyone who can fire a bow," Sir Rhodri called, standing up in his stirrups to get a better view of the men of the village as he directed them. "Climb a watch tower and take as many arrows as you can carry with you. If you can’t hit a bird in flight, keep to the towers on the south and east sides of town. Men on the north and west, you better have the strength to hit a target on the other side of the wall!"

The men he was sending into the watch towers weren’t soldiers. Some of them were boys barely fourteen summers old. But each and every one of them was good enough with a bow to put food on their tables, and if they could shoot from the watch towers, then they were almost as useful as a soldier in light armor.

"Sir Rhodri," a burly villager said as he dumped an armful of axes, hatchets, sledge hammers, and mauls on the ground before the armored knight. "This is all I could scrounge up from tha workshops. How should I pass ’em out?"

"Find the biggest men you can and send at least one with a maul or large ax to each of the watch towers to guard the base," the aging knight said as he looked out over the men who had gathered to form a last line of defense around the manor. "We don’t have enough to go around, so make sure our strongest men get the best. The rest can stay here with whatever they have."

The men of Raek Village made for a motley group. Most of the ones who lived in the village were skilled tradesmen, many of whom had come to the village at Carwyn’s invitation in order to bring new opportunities to the village.

Carwyn had given away plots of land in the village that were large enough to build both a house and a shop as long as the tradesmen agreed to take on at least two apprentices from among the villagers who were between the ages of twelve and seventeen years old.

At the time, Rhodri thought his son was giving away too much, shorting the village of the money that new settlers were generally required to invest in order to receive a deed to their lands, but a few years on, he had to admit that he’d been wrong. They’d long had a blacksmith who could care for most of the village’s needs, but now they boasted a skilled ferrier as well as a cooper who had both more than paid back the village with the impact they had on everyone else.

But now that they were facing an attack by demons, Rhodri wished his son had put more effort into recruiting trappers, furriers, fletchers, and other men who knew more about ending a life than making one more comfortable.

As it stood, no matter how much he appreciated the unique ciders and ales produced by the brewer who had built his shop beside the new bridge, he would have preferred to have even one more man who could wield a blade, and Master Kraki resembled his kegs far too much to be of use in the fight to come.

Of course, he wasn’t in much better shape himself. He cut a dashing figure in his gleaming armor, sitting atop his well-trained horse. But underneath the polished plates and intricately woven mail, his body had grown soft with age, and his bones ached in the cold. He’d left his sword behind in favor of a long-handled hammer with a wicked spike on the back side because he wasn’t confident that he could display the skill required to use anything else from horseback.

"One last ride," he said softly, tapping his horse’s neck and leaning forward to whisper directly into his steed’s ear. "We get one last ride, old friend, so help me show these young lads how it’s done."

Sir Rhodri didn’t expect to survive this raid, not when the demons were said to number in the dozens, but that was all right with him. As long as he was able to lead the men who had stepped forward and they were able to protect the women and children behind them, including his daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild...

Then it was worth giving it one last charge, not because he thought he could survive it, but because he hoped that the last of his family would.