“It is uncommon for Hatharen to have siblings.”

  Ferene looked across the room at Grathen. “Really?” They had finished cleaning, and Ferene’s armor sat in a pile on top of her bed, her sword by the door. Grathen’s gear was similarly arranged beside his bed.

  “Compared to humans, yes. Your sister likely never expected to be in her current position.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  He frowned at her, then sighed. “Come on, let’s go talk to her.”

  Ferene followed him out of their dwelling and saw Tilhana already walking towards them, two others following her.

  “Good timing. Come with us.”

  “Where are we going?” Grathen asked.

  “I want to see how you fight.”

  Ferene silently followed, eventually finding herself in a circle of dirt, surrounded by several wooden posts. A few Hatharen loitered nearby, all of them turning to look at Ferene. Tilhana entered first, stepping to the center, then turning to look at Ferene. “If you want to claim you are a member of this stronghold, you must prove yourself strong enough to be one of us. Your father left because he was weak. Show me you aren’t like him.” She lifted her left arm, and one of the watching Hatharen tossed her a wooden pole. She held it by one end, mimicking a sword.

  “I have a family in Yonthal.” Ferene said, stepping into the arena, Ferene saw one of the audience held another pole. She raised a hand towards the woman, and caught the thrown stick. “I proved myself to them.” Taking her makeshift weapon in two hands, she assumed her stance. Just like the wooden swords she used in Yonhal, there was a weight to the pole.

  Tilhana smiled as she rushed in, starting with a large overhead swing. Ferene blocked it, the two pieces of wood cracking together and bouncing apart. Tilhana used this momentum, spinning backwards to deliver another strike.

  Ferene backed away, avoiding the second attack before thrusting forward, only for Tilhana to intercept the strike, knocking both of their weapons out of position before she stepped forward, swinging her fist at Ferene’s face. Leaning to the side, Ferene blocked with her upper arm, feeling the pain of the impact.

  “Don’t let the practice weapons trick you into thinking this isn’t a real fight.” Tilhana pressed her advantage, slashing high with her sword before launching a kick at Ferene’s knee. Blocking the upper attack, Ferene intercepted the kick with one of her own, shoving Tilhana back.

  Not wasting a moment, she surged forward, attacking with a diagonal upwards slash. Tilhana moved to parry, but Ferene let go of her stick, sending it into her sister’s shoulder before she grabbed the weapon in front of her, using both hands to pry it from Tilhana’s grasp.

  A fist hit her in the face, smashing her nose - Tilhana’s free hand. Pushing the pain aside, she swung her wooden pole into her sister’s ribcage. She wasn’t able to build up much force at that range, but she could still hear a gasp, right before another punch hit her in the stomach.

  She kicked out, trying more to push Tilhana away from her than do damage, only to have her leg grabbed. Ferene felt herself falling and leaned into it, lifting her other leg off the ground as she swiped at Tilhana’s knees, bringing them both crashing to the ground. Pulling herself free, she rolled away and came to her feet, seeing her sister do the same. Ferene raised her stick, and Tilhana brought her fists up.

  “I think that’s enough.” Grathen said from outside the ring.

  “You’re an outsider!” Tilhana snapped.

  A woman - the one that provided the practice weapons - stepped forward and spoke sharply.

  For a moment, Tilhana remained motionless, but then she dropped her hands to her side, spun, and walked away from the training ground.

  The Hatharen that told her to stop broke the silence first, saying something Ferene couldn’t understand.

  “Give her some time, then talk to her.” Grathen said, and Ferene nodded. Her heart was pounding, and her hands shook. Something about that fight felt different, not just in how Tilhana fought, but how Ferene herself responded. It was unlike fighting on a battlefield, or her previous sparring with Hatharen, or even her duel with Ilraghen.

  Taking a deep breath, she handed her practice sword to the Hatharen who gave it to her before leaning against one of the posts marking out the arena. Reaching up to her face, she felt her nose, already pulling itself back together. She wiped at the blood on her face, staining her hand red.

  “It looked like she was trying to kill you.”

  Ferene shrugged in response to Grathen’s comment.

  “It really doesn’t bother you?”

  She could only offer him another shrug.

  The Hatharen of Aesuthal were eager to join Taradira at first, but their leader, Helrithran pushed his way forward through the crowd, drawing stares and stirring up more speculation.

  “Explain the humans you brought with you. What do they have to do with your plan? They cannot join the fight. They are useless, so why are they here?”

  “The humans cannot fight the creatures of the north directly, but they are not incapable of joining us, helping us. Armies in the south are more than just soldiers. The front lines will be the Hatharen, and we will need as many as we can gather for that role. Behind us will be humans. They will carry supplies, craft the tools we will need, and watch over our homes while we are away.”

  “You would allow them to live in our strongholds? To take our place while we fight and die?” The elder raised his voice and his hand, pointing accusingly at Taradira. She stayed calm.

  “There are not enough of us to tend to our farms, our forges, our daily lives while still forming an army. We normally have a small percentage of our people in the north, patrolling for any sign of an attack, while the rest of us live our lives. I intend to reverse that. The humans won’t take our homes, but assist those we leave behind to watch over things. You do not need to worry about them taking over, as they have their own homes they will want to return to.”

  “You still intend to allow humans to live here, inside our stronghold, a place for us.”

  “The humans have had Hatharen living among them for years. Not just me, but others as well. We can welcome them just as they welcomed us. We have more than enough space for them, even before we form an army.”

  “You have this all planned out, then? A supply of human caretakers?”

  “I do.” Taradira said. “Humans from multiple nations, displaced by wars. They want peace.”

  “Wars you waged, I take it. You exploit the situation you caused for your own gain. Do you worry about what will happen if your plan is discovered?”

  Holding back her anger, Taradira simply frowned. “I was not the one who started the wars. Human leaders sent their armies into each other's lands. I am offering a solution for the circumstances I contributed to, the horrors I saw. They understand I am doing my part to help them, not exploiting their position. I offer and they accept.”

  The elder laughed. “Tell yourself what you want. Just know that I will hold you responsible for any actions the humans you bring to us perform. That is my condition for allowing them in. If you will accept this, let us talk of the details elsewhere.”

  “Why not talk right here?” Taradira replied instantly. She stepped down from her rock, walking through her people to stand face to face with Helrithran. “There is no need to keep it secret.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  His face twisted for a moment, then steadied. “Fine. You want an army. Give me numbers. How many will you take, how many will you leave behind to deal with the humans you bring in?”

  “Exactly how many Hatharen are here? Ignoring the very young and their mothers.”

  “One thousand two hundred and fifty three.” He responded immediately. “There are twenty four that are too young to fight.”

  “Give me a thousand.”

  He had no immediate response, only stiffening at her words, looking around at the audience. “You ask for too much.”

  “I ask for what is needed to give you everything. How many have you ever sent north at once? A hundred to scout? Maybe three hundred to mobilize against a large threat? I told you, I want to fight a war. This is the largest stronghold. Give me a thousand. I don’t expect the others to be able to provide more than four hundred each, less from Helrare. If I’m very lucky I’ll have an army of three and a half thousand at the end of this, going by my estimations. Three and a half thousand Hatharen to buy freedom for our people, forever.”

  There was a slight waver in the Hatharen nearest her. She saw it. Doubt. They would be going into the unknown. She didn’t wait for Helrithran to respond, instead pushing forward. “Our enemies rarely ever send large groups at us, instead slowly wearing us down with small conflicts, yet they are clearly growing stronger, aren’t they? The groups are growing in number, their tactics are increasing in complexity. We’re on the breaking point, aren’t we?”

  He looked away from her, his gaze sweeping the audience. “Defense is always an option. One we never tried. If the scouts ever found an army of monsters too large, we could always defend the stronghold entrances. You will leave us without that. An open clash with an unknown number of foes.”

  “As soon as we stop intercepting them, they will go around us. I’ve seen armies do it again and again. We will be trapped in our strongholds, useless as they pass through the mountain wall. The humans you trade with will be wiped out. This valley might sustain you for a time, but what of the other strongholds? Can they survive in isolation? Time is working against us. We must act or we will become extinct, with our only choice in the matter if we do so before or after the humans. Our best chance to avoid that outcome is now, with as many of our people as we can.”

  Helrithran clicked his tongue. “One thousand, then.”

  “Thank you.” Taradira said, smiling.

  Ferene sought out Tilhana, finding her at the water’s edge, standing and staring out at the central lake. Taking a place beside her sister, Ferene remained silent, unsure of what to say. Tilhana spoke first instead.

  “I enjoyed it.”

  Ferene blinked.

  “I get carried away. I don’t want to stop. It happened with you. I wanted to keep fighting, to throw myself at you until one of us couldn’t keep going any longer. I would have, if Veltihen hadn’t stopped me.”

  It took a moment, but Ferene remembered her fight with Linara. The anger of the other woman, the way she fought without thinking, her lack of awareness causing her loss. “It happens sometimes.”

  “To you?”

  “To someone I know.”

  Tilhana nodded. “I’m like him, aren’t I? Selveren. Just in different ways.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You can say yes,” she let out a short laugh. “He does his medicine, I fight. We need people who fight. We don’t need medicine. If he fought, he’d be more useful. When…” Tilhana trailed off, looking down.

  “When my mother died, that’s all I could think of. He couldn’t protect her, and then he couldn’t heal her. She died because he wasn’t good enough. She needed him and he failed. I fought harder after that. Pushed myself more. That’s when it started.”

  Ferene waited. She could feel the tension coming off of Tilhana, the anger in her words.

  “The next time I went north, I fought a Cahire. I…I kept hitting it, even after it was dead. I saw it as if it was the one that killed my mother. Salrahas had to pull me away from it. It wasn’t even recognizable at that point. I thought that was the end of it, but the same thing would happen when sparring. I’d lose control, and just keep going until someone else stopped me. I couldn’t control it. When I think about it now, it scares me.”

  Tilhana fell silent, and Ferene realized that she was waiting. “I wanted to protect people. To help people. There was someone I thought I had saved. A young boy. A child. He stabbed me when I looked away from him. I killed him, trying to push him away from me. I didn’t want to, it just…happened. I was hurt, but I had to keep fighting. The anger was more than the pain. I could hardly think, I just had to stay alive so I could keep killing. I didn’t want to die like my mother.”

  Tilhana laughed at that, snapping Ferene out of her memories. “You’re a good sister, Ferene.”

  “You said I wasn’t.”

  With a sigh, Tilhana turned to look at Ferene. “I hate Selveren. You aren’t him. I said before he failed you more than he failed me. He isn’t your father any more than he is mine. I can accept you as my sister. I’ll help you deliver your message. You go get your friend, I’ll go gather the council of elders, and you’ll talk to them as my sister.”

  The boulder she gave her speech from became Taradira’s base of operations in Aesuthal. With the humans allowed inside, Thoms joined her, along with Nenhal, Selveren, Zasthagel, and Faltare. The short man looked out of place, but stood confidently at Taradira’s side.

  They set up a table beside the boulder, and Taradira spread a map across it. It showed the entire mountain range, with each stronghold marked on the crescent of peaks.

  “With Aesuthal already on our side, I won’t need to make such a large demonstration. Just a few of us can travel northwest, through each stronghold, to rally them to our cause. If Ferene was successful, Yonthal and Treventhal will be prepared to move out. While we are doing that, I need two messengers to go back south. One to Ettsgras, and one to Celngi, to start moving humans north. Thoms, I’ll need you to take care of that. The letters are already written. There’s a third one, for Linara. She’ll be able to get Olentor to provide guards.”

  “I’ll see it gets done, General.”

  She didn’t bother correcting him - he’d probably see her that way forever.

  “Zasthagel-“

  “I can’t go to Valerahal.”

  “-you will stay here, with Nenhal. I’m leaving her in charge of the humans for now, since they know her, and I’m leaving you in charge of her.”

  “I don’t get to go with you?” Nenhal spoke up.

  Taradira looked at her and nodded. “I didn’t ask what stronghold your people were originally from, and I don’t want you there when we visit. I’ll be taking Selveren with me, and Faltare - if you’ll agree to it.”

  The dark-skinned Hatharen’s eyes widened, and she grinned. There was something very Linara in her smile. “Of course I’ll help you. Linara can’t, so I’ll have to take her place, won’t I? Is just the three of us enough, though?”

  “For Helrare, Ravthal, and Valerahal? No, but-“ her hand fell to the map, landing on Aesuthal and then sliding northwest. “Our first stop is Vilventhal. Where I’m from. The easiest of them all. They know me better than anyone else, and more than that they owe me. We’ll be picking up some support there before moving onward.”

  “Go over the plan logistically,” Thoms said, looking at the map. “Are you gathering your army here, or in the middle at Helrare?”

  “Helrare is the smallest of the strongholds. They couldn’t hold half the army I plan to assemble. It has to be here. I’ll visit each stronghold, and deliver my message. They will accept - I’m sure of that - and start preparations as I move on. When I reach Treventhal, I’ll turn back and pick up the assembled army from each, leading them all here. Ferene being at the opposite end helps with this, as they will already be prepared if she was successful. If she wasn’t, we’ll be delayed but the plan will remain the same.”

  “And how many do you expect to have, all told?”

  “I only have rough and out of date estimations of the populations. One thousand is a good start. Valerahal, Ravthal, and Vilventhal can provide maybe five hundred. Yonthal slightly less, Treventhal slightly more. Helrare possibly only two hundred.”

  Thoms frowned at that. “Some three thousand, all together? Not looking like a very large army, General.”

  “It is going to be all I have, and you’re missing the context. Faltare, you’re the oldest here. Tell me, what’s the largest group of monsters that have appeared?”

  She frowned, tilting her head in thought. “Seven hundred.”

  “When?”

  “It was…it was Linara’s first battle. Not long ago.”

  “And before that, when and how large was the largest group?”

  “Half the size, maybe a few hundred years ago?”

  Taradira looked back to Thoms. “We don’t know a lot about our enemy, but we do know they also have never put up numbers like humans are used to. I can’t imagine them having more than eight thousand total.”

  “Those are still not good odds.” He said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “They come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them are small, some of them are twice as big as I am. The odds are very bad, for humans. For as long as they can remember, my people have fought at a disadvantage. They are used to the situation, though they have always put themselves in it. Small groups of six were expected to fight against dozens of enemies and come back alive. A hundred would fight against three hundred. Training and teamwork won where numbers didn’t. It was our way to never fully commit.” She looked to Faltare again. “Against the seven hundred, how many were sent?”

  “Sixty groups.”

  “Our last largest battle was three hundred and sixty against seven hundred. Not odds humans would take on an open field, much less while attacking.”

  Thoms nodded, his eyes focused on the map. “The terrain, then. What is there? The map-“

  “Is blank, yes. To the north is mostly a wasteland. There are some sparse landmarks such as hills or outcrops of trees, but no roads, rivers, or any kind of habitation we’ve encountered. A week’s journey and it is all the same. That’s part of why we need a supply chain - living off the land is impossible. You will help with that, in addition to artillery if we need it. There are some rough maps from the scouting parties we can use to get an idea, but it won’t matter - our goal is unknown territory.” Pulling out her dagger, she held it over the map, point down, wavering over blank space before driving it into the table. “This…will be our final staging ground before going into the unknown. A small rocky valley between cliffs. We’ll be able to set up lookouts there.”

  Taradira held her face still. It wasn’t the first time she’d be using that valley as a staging ground.