She shivered from the cold water as it lapped against her, soaking her lower regions through to the skin. Boots filled with water made the uncomfortable slog even more so. Others hefted the boat onto the sandy shores, while she struggled to walk across the soft sand, which sank and tugged at her legs and boots. Once again, Lukas grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the surf current, which pushed her from side to side.

Stumbling onto the sand, Faline took in deep breaths, as her heart thudded heavily in her chest. The rest of the crewmen squatted near the dunes, talking with Duncan. Following Lukas, Faline ran up to them.

Duncan had drawn a line with a circle above it. “We’re here,” he said, stabbing a stick into the sand just above the line. “The village is here.” He dragged the stick lightly across the sand to the right of the circle. “Lukas, take your men to the west.” He flicked the tip of the stick to the left of the circle. “Iago, take your men east. When you see a flaming arrow, attack the gates. The west gate is on a rise, so you’ll have to climb over the wall to get it open. The one on the east is easier to get through, but you’ll have to deal with the militia coming from the other villages once the alarm is raised.”

All she had to do was wait for Duncan’s signal. Then she’d disappear.

“The Harrow are small, but quick. Don’t think that because of their size they will be easy pickings,” he added.

Her heart started beating rapidly. The Harrow? Are we attacking the Harrow?

Duncan continued, “Our objective is to loot the granary in the center of the village. Their winter store is in there. You’ll recognize it by the fence surrounding it. We need to grab as much as we can carry and get it back to the boat.”

He fixed a look at Iago. “This is a grab-and-go raid. Quick and focused. None of that rape and pillage nonsense. Got it?”

Iago stared back blankly, then smiled without warmth.

Duncan frowned but then said, “Let’s go.” Everyone started to split into two groups.

Faline grabbed Lukas’ arm. “We are raiding the Harrow folk?” she whispered to him.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” he asked with a tone that clearly indicated he didn’t care if she did or not.

“No,” she answered weakly. The Harrow had helped her. But now she was going to be attacking them, so even if she ran off, they could easily hunt her down and exact vengeance on her for being human.

“Good.” He turned to his group of eight men, including Faline. “Follow me. We’ll circle west just beyond the fire break.” He broke for the dunes, trailed by the men. Trailing them all was Faline; she kept the last man in sight but made no effort to stay close. After several minutes of dodging from one place of concealment to another, the group found shelter in the tree line. Opposite them, several hundred feet away, stood a wooden palisade, and in it, a narrow gate. Beyond the palisade, which stood only about eight feet tall, were the tops of buildings. Lukas pointed at two men. “Climb the fence on either side of the gate. Take out the guards and open the doors. Wait for my signal.”

He turned to Faline. “You follow me through the gate.”

Faline nodded hesitantly. A streak of light whipped across the sky. Lukas motioned for the men to go. They darted toward the wall, two groups of two men. One of each pair positioned themselves at the base of the wall, turned, and cupped their hands. The second of each pair ran up to the first, stepped into the cupped hands, and vaulted over the gate. Several seconds passed, and the men at the base of the wall clambered up over it. Some muffled noise came from the gate area, then the door creaked open.

“Let’s go,” Lukas said, running toward the gate. Faline loped behind, staying behind but not too far. Once inside the gate, the entire group was together, except for two, who dragged the bodies of Harrow guards out of the way.

Lukas pointed to two men standing over the dead Harrow guards. “Man the gates and keep them shut from the militia. We’ll use the eastern gate to return to the boats. Everyone else will follow me.” After a few glances around, Lukas took off running into the village, dodging from shadow to shadow. The rest followed, but Faline trailed, in no hurry to help plunder the granary of her friends. Soon, the rest of the men had run ahead, and she lost sight of them.

The buildings surrounding her were short, solidly built, and quiet. Dim lights illuminated the streets, cast by oil-burning lamps hung from tall poles. These cast just enough light for her to avoid running into railings, water troughs, and abandoned carts. As she surveyed the scene, a shriek cut through the air, followed by bells ringing and horns blowing.

A flurry of activity broke out as figures appeared at doors and windows, looking out into the night. Faline hurled herself into the nearest alley, just as a door popped open a few steps away. Flattening against the shadows, she hadn’t considered what to do if the entire village poured out into the streets. Perhaps they might mistake her for another Harrow.

The figure exiting the door, to her right, fidgeted with his belt, and something sang out of it. The glint of metal appeared in the lamp light. She kept against the wall, hoping he’d not turn her direction.

“You there, next to the wall,” a voice called from her left. Someone was coming that direction, an ax in their hand. “You’re not one of us.”

Not only did they see her in the low light, but they also immediately recognized her as human. Their eyesight must be fantastic. No time to waste. She darted away across the street into the rows of buildings. By now, people milled about as she ran past, unable to remember which way to get to the granary or the gate. Someone stepped into her path.

“Stop, or I’ll kill you,” the figure said, waving what appeared to be a sword. She grabbed at the weapon in her belt, but it was secured by a strap over the hilt, meant to keep it from falling out while getting to shore. Fumbling with the strap, she jerked on the hilt, trying to pull the blade free.

Her opponent swung his blade, and she barely sidestepped it, then ducked and ran through an alleyway toward another side street. Footsteps behind gave evidence of pursuit. At the next corner, she juked right and slammed right into someone. Both were splayed out on the ground.

A Harrow man, dressed in leather helm and vest, rolled over to grab his long knife. A short spear topped by the tear-shaped blade lay next to him. Beyond him stood two other Harrow men dressed the same way. They looked like small soldiers.

Once again, she climbed to her feet. Which direction? No time to decide. Picking a direction, she ran past bewildered Harrow citizens, trying to figure out what was going on, and not trying to stop her. As she turned a corner, however, a tall building with a large fence appeared. The granary.

Several figures stood outside the gate, trying to force their way past the crewmen guarding it. Several bodies lay on the ground, mostly Harrow, but a couple were human. Footsteps resounded from behind her, and she spotted several of the crew streaming down a street to her right. That must be where the east gate is.

As she made the turn toward the gate, a column of smoke was billowing up from nearby houses. What was going on? The objective was the granary. She spotted Iago smashing down a door and darting inside.

She started to run past. The east gate couldn’t have been more than a hundred or so feet away, and freedom lay past it. But Iago wasn’t heading for the gate, and he wasn’t carrying anything toward the boats either. None of that rape and pillage nonsense. Duncan’s order, and the warning look he’d given Iago when he said it. If Iago had ignored it once, in a place that had once shown her kindness when no one else would, she couldn’t just keep running.

Her feet were already turning back before she’d fully decided to. She went through the smashed door.

Broken furniture littered the halls and rooms; paintings and mirrors lay smashed throughout. Chills ran down Faline’s spine. To her left appeared a sitting room; a young Harrow male lay on his back in a puddle of blood, throat slashed. In another room lay an older man, on his side, blood dripping from a wound in his head. As Faline stepped into the room, he groaned. Spotting her, he rolled over and raised an arm to fend her off. She knelt next to him.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’m not one of them.”

The man looked at her, fear clearly etched on his features. She found a wash towel and a pitcher of water nearby, then crouched down to dab the wound. The injury looked worse than it was, but still appeared painful. As she studied his face, however, recognition set in. The man was Erasmus, Alax’s father. He didn’t seem to recognize her, however, and sat upright.

“Where is my daughter?” he asked plaintively.

Daughter? Could that be? But Duncan said he’d killed her. A shriek, high-pitched and convulsive, carried in the air. She jumped to her feet and ran to where another scream cut through the air. Around the corner, she stepped and froze. On the floor, Iago lay on Alax, her night clothes torn to pieces, and her face a mass of bruises and blood. The beast grunted with exertion as he forced himself on the girl. He looked up at Faline.

A look of annoyance passed briefly over him. Then a sick smile. Twisted and malevolent. “Wait your turn, boy. I’m almost done.” He turned back to Alax and began grunting again.

Faline caught the look in Alax’s eyes, filled with disgust and resignation.

Her heart surged, and her vision narrowed. A short sword appeared in her hand. She launched herself at Iago, who was only vaguely aware of what she was doing. Down came the blade, puncturing the flesh with a sucking sound.

He howled and rolled, striking out with arms and legs at Faline. With a thud, she slammed into the wall. Stars filled her eyes as her crown struck the door frame.

“Traitor,” Iago barked, reaching back to pull the blade from his back. But his hand came up empty. “What…” He whipped around, and the blade in Alax’s hands caught him in the throat. Blood ran down his sides, onto the bed, and onto the Harrow woman. She stumbled away and retched.

Faline forced herself upright and moved toward Alax, stepping over Iago’s still twitching form. “Alax,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”

The girl spoke without looking at her. “I wish I were.” She turned and looked at Faline, anguish in her eyes.

Faline touched Alax’s arm, but the girl shrank away, wincing as if in pain. “Alax, I’m your friend.”

“No,” Alax said, face flushed and lined. “You’re human. You could never be my friend. Leave.” She pointed to the door.

“But Alax,” Faline stammered, her heart in her throat, tears filling her eyes. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“But it did. Go be with your kind,” Alax said with force, then her voice fell to almost a whisper, “Go before the militia arrives; it isn’t safe for you here anymore.”

Faline reached out to Alax, but the girl pulled away, sobbing. Shouts carried from the open window nearby. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed the short sword from Iago’s throat and ran back out of the hallway and the front door.

Lukas and some of the men were running toward the east gate, carrying as many bags as they could. He pulled up at seeing Faline and the bloody weapon in her hand. “I wondered where you had gone. Got some experience fighting after all.”

She stared at him, unable to find the words she wanted to describe a feeling she couldn’t explain. He seemed to note her confusion. “Come on. The Harrow militia has breached the west gate; they’ll be here any moment.” He trotted toward the east gate, sacks over his shoulder.

Faline followed, though she did glance back at Alax’s house, now small and insignificant amongst the burning buildings, no doubt set by Iago to distract and confuse the Harrow.

Minutes later, they gathered at the long boat. Lukas and the other men dropped their loot inside, then took count of the crew.

“Four missing. Where’s Iago?” Duncan asked.

“Dead,” Faline said without elaboration.

Duncan stared hard at her for a moment, then nodded toward Lukas. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Crewmen pushed the boats into the surf, then hopped aboard. Faline had no problem joining them. There was nothing left for her in Dunharrow, only out there in the dark sea, on the Reaver. Picking up an oar, she kept pace with the others and reached the ship. After offloading their loot, everyone clambered aboard. Argus stood on the quarter deck and waved at Faline as she came over the railing.

“So, how was it?” Argus asked.

Faline looked at him but said nothing. She wanted to curl up and sleep, not at all sure that it would come. Argus started to say something, but she pushed past and climbed down the steps into the galley.