It was not too long after midnight when the schooner pulled into the harbor.
Atop a roof in the Citadel, a lone archer lifted his small string cup and spoke into it.
"You seeing that?", the archer asked into the cup, the string passed over five or six other rooves until it connected to another cup held by another archer.
"I thought so, can't see shit, though", the second archer replied.
"Keep vigilant, could just be the sky playing tricks on us", the first archer spoke, looking up at the black clouds passing over the full moon.
It was a few hours later that Randall had washed ashore. A group of loose villagers hauled him over the trench just dug earlier that day.
A half-hour after that, Thatcher, Ruataupare, Magnus (holding Pimly tightly in her arms), Wolesley, Grayson, Asper, Rena, and Magnus stood around him, demanding answers.
Arihona and Ikime returned to the group with a blanket as Randall spoke hurriedly.
"...and so I saw them, loading the boat, obviously", he tacked on, "and managed to come aboard".
"And what - you thought you'd sneak back in, bypass the exile?", Magnus hissed at Randall, hunched on the ground, cuddled into his blanket.
"I came to warn you", Randall shivered.
"Just out of the goodness of your heart?", Thatcher asked with a sneer.
"No - because despite everything, I still love this country, I don't want those monsters to do away with it the same way they did away with Motueka", Randall spoke through shivers.
His hair was still covered in foliage, his forehead still stained with dirt and blood.
No one said anything, though Ruataupare was holding herself like she had to pee.
Bursting, she asked - "where's Riwai?".
"What?", Randall asked.
"Riwai, you two lived together, where is he?", Ruataupare crouched and asked.
"He went into Pa, never returned", Randall swallowed hard, "he's dead, Ruataupare", he finished in a mumble.
"What?", Magnus stepped forward and asked through tears.
"We don't have time, they're here, off the coast of the Citadel, they'll be on the beach by morning", Randall urged.
"Grayson, get the Motuekans and the Settled folk down here behind the trenches", Thatcher commanded, "then get the fuck out to the Citadel and make the message clear; we are under attack as of now!".
"We need to get him somewhere safe", Rena looked down at Randall, still cuddled in his blanket on the sand, and then back up to Thatcher and the others.
"The fuck, Rena?", Magnus turned to her wife and asked annoyedly.
"He came here", Rena replied incredulously, "he warned us. He's an exile, he didn't have to do that. He swam the harbor to get here".
Randall nodded as if to agree with Magnus.
"He's a disgraceful lech", Magnus spat.
"She's right, Magnus, he didn't have to come here, he didn't have to warn us", Thatcher chipped in.
"You're defending this cunt?", Magnus asked, pointing aggressively to Randall.
"I'm not defending him, Magnus, I'm defending her", Thatcher nodded towards Rena, "she's leadership, and I trust her judgment".
Rena felt her heart swell.
"Haul him to the basement in the Second House", Magnus relented, issuing the command to Wolesley.
"Where are we on the Third and Fourth Houses?", Thatcher watched Wolesley throw Randall over his shoulder, his feet slipping in the sand as he walked out of view.
"They're both stacked, it'd be impossible to get anyone else in there", Magnus replied.
"So, what?", Thatcher chucked back.
"So we need to start moving them into the Second House basement, Thatcher", Magnus pressed as if it were obvious.
"Magnus, the plan is to continue drawing The Settled Folk towards the Second House, do you really want to go throwing our most vulnerable in the fucking basement, especially given that we're in the know about what weaponry they hold?", Thatcher grimaced.
"You know we have no choice, we need to house them where we know they'll be protected", Magnus reasoned.
"All right", Thatcher sighed, placing a palm on her forehead and sighing.
"Thatcher, I know this is hard, but you need to let go and let what's going to happen; happen", Ruataupare broke her icy demeanor, truly sensing what Thatcher was currently enduring.
"Yuh", Thatcher bit her lip and grunted non-committedly.
With a sigh, Thatcher said - "all right, move to your positions, command your units, this is going to be a long night".
The group nodded, and broke, right as Grayson was guiding the Village Platoon (consisting of the joint forces of The Settlers and The Motuekans) into place.
Asper and Thatcher stood still, looking over each other with eyes of hope and dread.
Thatcher made to walk, but Asper stopped her with a hand on Thatchers' arm.
"Wait".
"What's up?", Thatcher asked, looking down at Aspers' hand.
"I, uh, I need to say, once again, thank you", Asper spoke with monotony.
"Asper... I...", she held her breath, "you don't need to thank me".
"No, I do", Asper rushed to reply, "if this works, you saved us. If it fails, you tried to save us. Either way - you did the right thing".
Thatcher said nothing, but instead bit her bottom lip and placed her left hand atop Aspers' hand, still gripping.
"Asper... I need to say it, I don't know how much you'll like me afterward, but tomorrow, we might not be here and I'll regret never saying anything if that's the case, but; I really like you", Thatcher confessed.
Asper had no words because the statement was vague enough to mean literally anything.
"Like...", Asper repeated, not quite a question.
"Like, attracted... And I know you're in a relationship, and I don't want to screw that up for you, but I just needed to say it", Thatcher scrambled to speak.
"I'm thrilled, Thatcher, that a woman like you would be attracted to a woman like me", Asper smiled, "it makes me feel like a diamond, that you, like me".
Thatcher grinned, "I'm glad".
The pair embraced in a tight hug, an implicit understanding between them that nothing would ever happen, but with the knowledge that they were destined to be friends.
After all, Thatcher reasoned internally, it was a crush; nothing more.
"Let's go, battle stations", Asper sniffled.
The pair released their embrace and departed in differing directions.
YOU ARE READING
The Toils (Book Two)
Historical Fiction"Magnus gave a brief thought to Thatcher, somewhere in the deep south, surely over the Cold Country border by now" Thatcher has a lot on her plate. The skies have grown black, the ground is shaking, crops are dying and aquifers are drying up. Her op...
