The Farmstead

Despite it being their fourth day on the roads, the pups’ energy seemed endless. While Elian, like most of the adults, took the brief stops as opportunities to rest, they were running around, playing tag, and of course practicing fencing. Right now, a complicated five-way battle was going on, involving a whole lot of flailing sticks in the air and rolling in the grass with laughter. It was impossible not to laugh with them.

Had he ever played like this? He must have, back home at the farm, but he wasn’t sure. He knew he had friends, and there’d been animals. He remembered gathering eggs in the coop while staying far away from the rooster. That thing had been more monster than bird, and his father kept threatening to turn it into soup.

A triumphant yell made him turn back to the pups to see Lyco wave two sticks high in the air, doing a little victory dance. It seemed he’d managed to steal Myan’s, and she was now glaring at him, tail whipping, demanding a rematch. Elian shook his head, smiling. The only swordplay he could remember had been with Lior. They’d snuck into the military training grounds and gotten hold of a couple of wooden swords, much too long and heavy for them. That hadn’t stopped them from having a great time trying out the moves they’d seen the older soldiers practice. What had put a stop to it was one of the officers noticing and sending them both to bed without supper. They’d agreed it was totally worth it anyway.

Lior. His fingers found the stone hanging safely against his chest, hidden under his shirt. They’d had so much fun together. Done so much together.

“Okay. Time to go.” Roahr’s voice easily carried over the whole camp, prompting everybody to get back on their feet. Lunch break was over. Fires were put out, backpacks slung onto backs, and then they were on the move again. Nobody spoke of the rumoured threat, but there was a sense of heightened alert with everybody walking closer together. Ears turning and eyes scanning the peaceful surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

They were well past the lake now, following the broadening river. Pale green and yellowing fields of grass spread as far as they could see, only interrupted by darker shrubs and a few lonely trees. In less than a week they’d reach the new site, and Elian was looking forward to it. Picking fruits and preparing them for the winter was still one of his favorite things to do, and not only for the prospect of apple pies and plum jam.

“Wait.” Roahr’s hand shot into the air, motioning everyone to stop. He stared to their left, away from the river, as did several of the others. Faces lifted slightly to take in scents more efficiently.

“Humans.”

“Something’s wrong.”

Elian froze, straining his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything beyond the babbling of the river and the whispers among the tribe.

“Those unarmed, stay back for now. The rest with me.” Roahr, his massive hunting spear in one hand, was already on the move with Kaer and Kaia at his heels. A dozen others quickly followed suit, and Elian joined them as well, running through the tall grass.

If there were humans in need, he should be there. Making sure his knife was securely at his hip, he sprinted on.

Reaching the top of a low, rolling hill, they finally laid eyes on the source of the sound. A sizeable farmstead with a handful of houses, animal coops, and a big barn. White wooden fences surrounded pens and neat rows of crops. Or had surrounded them. Now both fences and walls lay crumbled as if hit by battering rams and then trampled into the ground. Elian’s lungs suddenly refused to take in air, even as he forced his legs to move faster.

He’d seen it before.

As if his nightmares had come true, Elian stared at the scene in disbelief. The buggers were here. There were still a few humans alive, with enough strength to fight. Two men were desperately holding their ground, trying to fend off a giant cricket, while beetles formed a living fence, trapping them. Further back, rows of crickets were carrying dead sheep and sacks with produce into three tunnel openings close to the barn.

“Attack!”

Increasing the speed, the Nareth rushed forward, leaving Elian behind. Ignoring the throbbing heat in his hand, he drew the knife even though he knew it’d barely scratch them. One of the men turned to look only to lose an arm to powerful mandibles. As he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding stump, the cricket followed through, forcing the survivor to back up against a charred wall.

“Noooooooooo!” As the scream left his throat, an arrow struck the cricket’s head, only to bounce off.

Kaia! Her arrows wouldn’t be able to go through the thick, armor-like skin. Then the others reached the small battlefield and a group of bugs turned as one to meet them. Everything turned into a dusty blur filled with grunts, screeches, and the sound of metal hitting plated skin.

“Go for the joints! The legs!” Elian shouted at the top of his lungs and it seemed as if some heard him. He could see Roahr spear a cricket through the eye, smoothly sidestepping around the beetle trying to topple him. Kaer, a sword in each hand, was chopping off long green legs, leaving several crickets immobilised.

Knife in hand, Elian remained at the edge of the battle, knowing fully well how useless it’d be. More likely than not, he’d end up being in the way, causing more harm than good. The bugs involved in the fighting were soon the only ones left, the last of the supplies having been dragged inside the tunnels. Did this mean the rest would simply leave as well? As far as he knew, the buggers only fought to get access to the supplies they stole…

“Help! Someone, please…” A weak voice made it through the battle sounds, so Elian darted toward it to find the last farmer in a tug of war with one of the last crickets. He had a tight grip on the armless man’s foot in a futile attempt to drag him away from the cricket. The injured man was struggling weakly, his good arm clutching his stump.

Blood. So much blood.

Severe blood loss. Unlikely to survive. The dry voice of one of his instructors rose in Elian’s mind as his stomach heaved at the sight.

With a yell he leaped forward, slashing at the mandibles clasped around the man’s shoulder. The blade didn’t even make a scratch, but it did make the bugger let go, instead turning its attention to Elian. His hand burned like fire, the mark throbbing in preparation. Mana surged through his body.

No!

Tightening his grip on the knife, Elian slowly backed away from the men. If only he could draw it away, then he could make a run for it… Or it’d head into the tunnels with the last of its kin. Raising itself higher on strong legs, the cricket became impossibly large, mandibles clacking shut much too close to him. It was aiming for his neck, not his arm.

Its backplates moved with a deafening screech as it launched forward. Elian raised the useless knife, bracing for the attack, when the cricket fell to the side with a crunch. The feathered end of an arrow was sticking out of its now empty eye socket. He turned to see Kaia raise her bow again, giving him a nod before taking down a beetle the same way. Hurrying back to the injured man, he helped tie a crude tourniquet around the severed arm to stop the bleeding. The battle was over shortly after that. The last bugs abandoned the fight and ran into the tunnels that soon closed behind them. The silence was deafening. It was over.

“Are they likely to come back?” Roahr asked Elian, who shook his head.

“No, they got what they came for.”

“Good, that’s what I thought.” He turned to Rhaen. “Go get the others. These people need healing herbs, and we’ll be safer together.”

“Right away.”

Rhaen had barely disappeared over the hill when a quiet creaking sound made everyone turn around. Elian’s hand was already back on the hilt of his dagger when he realized the door to one of the houses had opened. Just a little. A woman peeked out, eyes widening at the sight of the Lykar.

“It’s okay,” Elian said, walking closer. “The bugs are gone, it’s safe to come out now.”

She still looked hesitant, then her eyes fell on the injured man and she ran to him, falling to her knees by his side.

“Theo…”

“S okay, love,” the injured man mumbled, giving her a pale smile. “I’ll be fine.”

The door creaked again and two small girls and an older woman approached, looking between the injured man and the Lykar.

“Don’t be afraid,” the injured Theo said. “They’re the ones who saved us.”

“Papa!” The girls ran the last steps, staring at the stump with tears in their eyes.

“He’ll be alright,” Elian said, hoping he wasn’t promising the impossible. “We have great healers. They can’t give his arm back, but he’ll live.” He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, nodding encouragingly and the others murmured in agreement.

“Look,” someone said. “Here they come.”

Turning, Elian saw them, hope filling his chest and the heat in his hand fading. The rest of the tribe was coming down the hill, with the pups at the rear for once.

Everyone was safe!