Chapter 14: Ride to Willowford
The road east wound through dense forest for most of the first day, trees pressing close enough that branches scraped saddles and shadowed the path in shifting green. Twenty riders moved in loose column: Torv at the front with two scouts, Lira and I near center, Shadowmane loping alongside like a living banner. Garret rode bound in the middle, hands tied to the pommel, face sullen under constant watch. The air stayed cool under the canopy, carrying pine resin and damp earth. Hooves thudded soft on needles, and conversation stayed low.
We pushed hard but steady. Stops were brief: water horses at streams, eat hard bread and dried meat without dismounting long. Shadowmane ranged ahead or flanked, nose low, bond humming warnings of small game or distant horned cats that veered away at his scent. By dusk we cleared the heaviest woods and made camp in a meadow beside a clear brook. Fires stayed small, watches rotated. Garret tried once to loosen his ropes; the guard on him tapped his head with a spear butt and tied them tighter.
Night passed quiet. Stars burned bright in unfamiliar patterns. I took second watch with Lira atop a low rise. Wind carried faint howls far off, but nothing approached.
"Thinking about Willowford?" she asked, voice soft.
"Wondering how bad it is," I said. "Small village. Weak walls. If Eclipse Blades hits them first, it's to test response."
She nodded. "Garret said they want prisoners more than corpses. Building numbers."
"Means we have a chance to stop it clean."
She smiled faintly in the starlight. "Ever the mercy path."
"Works so far."
Dawn brought quick packing and remount. The second day opened into rolling hills dotted with copses and old farmsteads long abandoned. Grass grew tall and golden. Birds wheeled overhead. By mid-morning we crested a ridge and saw Willowford below: a cluster of thirty homes inside a sagging wooden palisade, fields patchwork around it, smoke rising thin from chimneys. No banners. No guards visible on walls. Too quiet.
Torv raised a fist. Column halted.
"Scouts," he ordered.
Two riders peeled off and rode wide circles. Shadowmane sat beside me, ears forward, low growl vibrating. I felt it through the bond: many scents. Horses. Men. Steel. Blood recent.
Scouts returned fast. "Tracks everywhere," one reported. "Boot prints. Hoof marks. Fresh. Maybe thirty riders. Camp signs half mile north in the trees."
Torv looked to me.
"They're already here," I said. "Or close. We ride in open. Show strength."
He nodded. "Form up. Weapons ready but peaceable till they move."
We descended in tight formation, Shadowmane at the fore. Villagers spotted us early; gates creaked open, and a handful of nervous men with spears waited inside. An older woman with gray streaked hair stepped forward as we entered the square. Her dress was patched but clean, eyes sharp.
"Travelers from Elden Hollow?" she asked. "Riders came yesterday with warning."
"Mira sent us," Torv said, dismounting. "I'm captain there. This is Kael, Lira, and the Shadowmane you heard about."
Her gaze lingered on the beast. Shadowmane sat calmly, tail curled. Fear eased from her face.
"I'm Elder Sera," she said. "Your warning saved us time. We've doubled watch, barred gates at night. But we're few. Walls rot. Weapons old."
"How many able fighters?" I asked.
"Twenty at best. Half trained. Children and old besides."
Torv grunted. "Eclipse Blades scout you?"
She nodded. "Three rode close two days ago. Shouted demands. Join or pay tribute. Left when we loosed arrows."
"They'll return harder," Lira said.
Sera's mouth tightened. "We know. Been packing what we can carry. Ready to flee south if needed."
"No," I said. "We stay. Fortify. Fight if they come."
She studied me. "With twenty from Elden Hollow?"
"And the Shadowmane," Torv added. "And Kael's way with corruption."
Hope flickered in her eyes. "Then we'll fight."
We worked the rest of the day. Torv organized repairs: new braces on gates, spikes driven into weak palisade sections. Lira trained their archers on the wall walks, correcting draws, showing volleys. I walked the perimeter with Shadowmane, marking soft spots, teaching villagers basic shield walls and choke points. Garret stayed bound in their small hall under guard, face darker with every hammer blow outside.
Evening brought council in the hall. Sera spread a rough map. We planned defenses: riders ready to harass flanks, archers high, melee at gates. Shadowmane would roam free on my command.
Night fell cool. Watches tripled. Fires banked low. They came near dawn. Horns sounded from the north. Hoofbeats thundered. Torches flared in the trees as thirty riders burst into view, formed in rough wedge. Black eclipse banners snapped. Leader in front wore heavy plate, sword raised.
"Open gates or burn!" he roared.
Arrows answered from the walls. Lira's first, taking the bannerman in the throat. He toppled.
Torv shouted orders. Gates stayed barred.
The charge hit hard. Horses slammed the palisade, riders leaping to climb. Arrows rained both ways. Shadowmane vaulted the wall on my command and crashed into the rear ranks. Screams rose as claws and fangs tore through unarmored horses and men.
I fought atop the gate platform. Sword met axe; I parried and stabbed low, dropping one climber. Another swung at my head; I ducked and drove the blade up under his arm. He fell back into the press.
Lira loosed steady beside me. Arrows found gaps in plate, throats, eyes. Below, Torv led a sortie through a side sally port. Ten riders smashed into the enemy flank, driving them apart. Steel rang. Men shouted.
The leader in plate pushed through to the gate, hammer raised to batter the bar. Shadowmane intercepted. The beast leaped, jaws closing on the hammer arm. Bone crunched. The man screamed as he was dragged from the saddle.
Enemy morale cracked. Riders wheeled in confusion. Our archers poured fire into the mass. Torv's group pressed hard.
They broke and fled north, leaving fifteen dead or dying. We lost three. Five wounded. Silence fell broken only by moans and crackling torches dropped in grass. We opened gates carefully. Captured six live, including the plate leader cradling a ruined arm. Bound them with the others. Sera walked the field with us at sunrise. Blood soaked the earth. Crows already gathered.
"You saved us," she said quietly.
"We held together," I replied.
Text bloomed bright:
*Deed recorded: Village defended through leadership and alliance. Threat scattered without corruption spread.*
*Skill progressed: Basic Leadership (Adept to Intermediate).*
*Skill progressed: Basic Tactics (to Adept).*
*Title gained: Warden of the Hollows.*
*Reputation spread: Willowford (Revered). Regional awareness rising.*
Lira read over my shoulder. "Warden. Fits."
Torv approached, wiping blood from his blade. "Their camp's empty now. Ran hard."
"Good," I said. "We take their gear. Send riders to Greenhollow and Ridgevale. Tell them Willowford stands. Invite fighters."
Sera nodded fiercely. "We'll join your training. Send our own to Elden Hollow."
The dead we buried by noon. Ours with honors. Theirs in a common pit. Wounded tended: my hands eased pain, closed cuts faster now with Field Dressing and Purification traces. One of ours with deep gashes stabilized under my touch. Afternoon brought planning. Willowford would rebuild walls stronger, train daily. We would rotate riders between villages. Early warning chain.
Garret watched it all from his new cell, face pale. Evening feast was quiet but grateful. Venison from stores, fresh bread, weak ale shared with new allies. Lira and I walked the new wall at dusk. Shadowmane padded below, checking scents.
"Found family spreading," she said.
"One village at a time," I agreed.
Stars rose bright. Eastward, scattered Eclipse Blades rode hard to report failure to Captain Voren. The Game took note. Alliances grew roots. The Null Path pulled weight now, carrying others forward. And the blank slate filled with purpose.
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