The Foundry by Frank Dravis

Author:Frank Dravis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, scifi, fantasy
Publisher: Six Factors Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Defender

Wedgewood

Amidst the clamor and commotion of wards returning from chasing troglodytes, archers disembarking their treeforts, and villagers emerging from safe havens, a tall warrior rode her eenu sedately down the middle of Wide Lane. Two fellow warriors trailed her, leading a pack train of eenus. A half-ward, trooping back to their assembly station, made to cross in front of the warrior when the branch warden held out his arm. They halted. A shield on one of the pack eenus caught his eye. He stared at the shield and then at the woman. Her worn greaves, gauntlets, and bastard sword sheathed on the eenu told him she was the real thing. The branch warden offered a short bow, holding the troop in place, waiting.

She returned his nod and issued the barest smile. Continuing on her way, she had the air of a local, when in reality this was her first mission to Wedgewood.

One of her fellow warriors touched two fingers to his temple in salute to the ward.

A Timberkeep trooper nudged another and pointed to the painted shields, scarred and dented, yet the symbol on the shields showed bright in the morning sun: a white lily upon a field of green against a sky of blue. The emblem universal amongst all Life Believers, the worshippers of Mother Dianis, the faith of Timberkeeps. The lily represented life blossoming in a harsh world; the green field portrayed the plain upon which life flourished, and the blue sky described where life aspired. When the icon was emblazoned upon a shield, it meant one thing.

“Life Defenders,” said one trooper. He gulped. “We’re in the turds now.”

“Ula, Defenders never show unless there be real trouble. Who called them?”

“Must’ve been the clan council,” offered the branch warden. “I’ll take one of them Defenders for every five Savior pukes.”

“Oi,” murmurs accented all around. The reputation of the Life Defenders lived far and wide. Though few in numbers, their renown as guardians of the Mother Dianis Faithful was well deserved. They defended the lowly peasant and impoverished farmer with great zeal, having an affinity for those who worked the land and practiced honest stewardship.

The tall warrior dismounted in front of Ogden’s foundry and tied her mount to a hitching post. Stepping inside the ironworks, she found the weaponsmith stripping off his chainmail hauberk, fresh from leading a scouting patrol. “Hello,” she called.

Ogden blinked, standing at the weapons racks at the back of the foundry; the bright glare from the street cast the warrior in shadow. He could see by the silhouette that the person was a woman, her long hair bound and thrown over a shoulder. She carried something on her back. He grunted, pulling the heavy mail over his head and draping it on a mannequin. Squinting against the light, “Hello yourself. I’m a wee busy now. The shop’s closed on account of the trog attack,” he huffed, “if that’s what you call it. Rode halfway to Lycealia and didn’t see a tail of the bastards.”

“Of course.”

“Uh? Of course what?”

“You’re right to question it was an attack.

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