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“Vippera is here,” I gasp in terror.
My father throws me an urgent look, but there is no time or any means to escape.
The first thing that Jalma’s naga army does when they storm into our village is rip apart the houses that we have built for ourselves. They also set fire to the small gardens in front of each house and completely destroy the produce that we have been growing for months now to sustain ourselves.
I watch with horror as Leonard’s storehouse with his prized jams and preserves is burnt to the ground.
I know that Leonard uses zhisk in his tizret jams, and I can only imagine that the alcohol makes the fire burn faster.
Several children scream for their parents, but the naga army has kicked up so much dust that it is hard to see anything. The village descends into a hellish orchestra of screams and shrieks and a high keening that is so unsettling that I know I’ll hear it for the rest of my life.
“We have to fight,” I tell my father.
“Harming any of the army is punishable by death,” he says.
I just look at him. We’re already dying. My father shakes his head unhappily before tossing me a sword.
I run sweaty, dusty hands through my hair and then go to war.
I help children out of the way as I fend off Jalma’s naga army. I manage to do so without harming any of the soldiers, but I don’t know how much longer I can manage it.
Eventually, I safely gather up every child I can find, gathering them in one of the only houses still standing.
I am itching to use my magic as I help the children find their parents. But no one except my father knows about my magic. We could never trust anyone in the village with this information. Not when someone might sell me so that they could have an extra bit of roasted dripir meat at the end of every day.
“Follow the plan!” I tell Sierra who nods at me before gratefully grabbing the hand of her youngest daughter.
We have had a plan in place for years, if this ever happened. And it has been known to happen. Human villages are invaded all the time.
The plan? The plan is to run.
There is a path out of the village that leads directly into one of the many forests that grow all over Lodra. We take it as quickly as we can.
The evacuation goes well at first, even though the fight between my village and Jalma’s naga army continues.
But then more naga appear.
This time when I see the flags, I realize that the new naga that have just appeared are the King, Queen, and Prince of Lodra.
I don’t think they’re here to help,I think to myself as I snatch another child out of the way of a screaming Jalma naga.
The fight seems to slow down suddenly, and I run back to my father, still carrying a child.
When I’m able to focus on the scene in front of me, I see that about twenty of my fellow villagers have been tied up in front of the Jalma naga.
There is also no chance for us to escape because both contingents – the Jalma army and the naga that arrived with the Lodra royal family – surround us. They carry swords, spears, and maces, and they start marching us toward the center of the village where the royals are standing.
Another royal has also joined the group. Someone I don’t recognize.
“King Tikzorcu,” the King of Lodra, King Shradga, speaks to the other naga. “What is the meaning of all this?”
King Shradga does not sound upset by the invasion of our village. Instead, he seems bored.
“Please,” one of the village women named Hannah cries out to King Shradga. “Please, my King, help us! They’ve destroyed everything!”
The royals ignore the pleas for help from the villagers, continuing their conversation almost idly.
The King of Jalma – Vippera’s father, I realize – laughs broadly and then speaks.
