Introduction

In the early evening sky, above the flitting birds and swooping eagles, thick white-grey clouds soared through the sky. The sun shined through gaps in the clouds and lit up the ground beneath. Needled spruce and pine trees filled the narrow valley made by tall snowcapped mountains. While a fish filled river flowed swiftly by, a herd of deer lay on the tall grass of a nearby meadow, undisturbed by the black bear fishing a short distance away. A small, dusty, and a bit overgrown road wound through the middle of all of this.

 At the crest of a hill, standing on the road, four men on horses stood, looking down the road. Two of the men rode on pale brown horses. Both carried with them a length of rope and a wood ax among other things: farmers or woodsmen. Another man, dressed completely in dark leather, was mounted on a grey horse, carrying a length of rope, two large knives at his belt and a large bow with an array of barbed arrows. The last man, however, did not have a usual look about him at all.

 The last fellow, sitting on a black horse, wore a black hooded cloak that covered most of his person. His hands, gripping tightly on the reins of the horse, were covered with black gloves. His face was shrouded in a shadow. Of his possessions, only these could be seen: a heavy crossbow and a black leather quiver filled with needle sharp, metal crossbow bolts.

 It could be seen by the manner that the first two men held themselves that they were uncomfortable around their present company. Both were tense. The third man showed no such misgivings.

 With a terse command, the cloaked figure lead the others forward, continuing down the road.

 “How far did you say it was to Loring Village?” the cloaked figure asked. The two woodsmen looked at each other nervously.

 “Only ten miles, sir,” one answered,stuttering slightly.

 “Ten miles!” the cloaked man exclaimed with distaste, a sour snarl disfiguring his face. “We have come hundreds already!  Curse this vast territory!” They traveled in silence.

 When darkness fell, they did not stop.  The cloaked man, now completely invisible in the darkness, pressed on, undeterred.  No lamp was used to light their way.  Like wraiths, they passed through the trees.

 act

Chapter I

The cabin was a large one.  It held in it three generations: a grandfather and his wife, their four children, and the small children of their two married married children.  There was room for all.  None of them were quite sure why the grandfather had made the log cabin so large in the beginning.  Had he planned for a large family to live with him?  Had he cut too much wood for a smaller cabin?  None of them knew and the grandfather never would tell.  It was drafty cabin and took a while to heat up.  While the building was large, the cellar was much too small.  It was an inconvenient design.

Outside the cabin, a barn, a woodshed, and a chicken coop resided, the latter two dwarfed by the cabin.  In the barn, two milk cows, four horses, four goats, an occasional chicken, and countless cats and mice lived in different locations.  The upper half of the barn held a hoard of hay, bats, and a large owl. In the coop, close to thirty chickens clucked and scratched at any given moment.  Outside the barn, six pigs lay in the shade.

In the yard, a large brown mastiff, grey fur mixed in generously, could be seen lying on the porch watching over the property with its large eyes.  Next to it a lanky, white dog slept, its long fur splayed out.  A donkey stood under a lone apricot tree in the middle of the meadow.  Behind it, a dozen sheep grazed around the company of a huge bull.  Off at the edge of the meadow, where the forest that dominated the area stopped for a short distance, an orchard of cherries bloomed in the springtime sun.

No other buildings, homes, or residences could be seen, nor were there any.  The next closest home was ten miles away.

 

Isaac, sweating under the sun, swung the ax again, splitting the block in two.  He had yet to learn why his father, the head of the Siliad family, got to be the one privileged enough to cut the logs in the cool forest while Isaac split it here in the heat.  He also wondered why his father, who was now sixty or so, still went out to fetch the wood when he had two grown sons and a son-in-law to do it for him.  But he knew that his father had always been different that way.  His mother, Elizabeth, told him and his siblings such stories about their father when they were little.

“He lived in the mountains all alone except for his dog, Camron,” she would tell them. “He lived twenty-three miles from the nearest village.  He fished from a lake and hunted in the forest.  He only went to the village about once a month.”  The last line did not leave much of an impression on the children at the time; none of them had or would see, except for maybe once, another house or cabin until they left home to find spouses.

Isaac knew that his father was still the strongest man in the family even in his now old years.  He had retained that from his youth as well as his skills with a bow, a knife, in tracking, and with occasional cutting remarks.  One thing that he had acquired in his old age, though, was a healthy sense of humor.

Isaac swung the ax, cleaving another block.  His father used to live in the west, his mother had said.  “He lived across the sea, past the Assaillane Islands, past Pathia even.  He lived on a place known as ‘Le Osliad Ro Lian’.”  Sometimes Isaac wondered how his father had come to be here, across the world, in Kosmodon.  He knew it was a long distance.  When he was young, his father would show him a map of the world.  The distance stretched far indeed.

As Isaac stacked the blocks he had cut, he recalled the other odd possessions his father had.  He had his map, an old longbow, and a tattered, dark blue and grey, hooded cape.  The strangest item, however, was this: his father had one medal attached to black leather. It bore an elaborate image: a ring around a twelve pointed star with a feather crossed over a narrow leaf in the center.  The medal was made of pure, auburn gold.  His father never said anything about it, what it meant or where he had acquired it, nor for what reason.  But he kept it in a small metal chest locked up, saying it would never be bothered there.

Shaking his head to clear these thoughts, Isaac looked back at the pile of blocks to see what he had left.  Halfway there.  Wiping the sweat from his eye, he went back to work.

The sun was almost to the mountainous horizon when he finished chopping.  He could smell potatoes and carrots and other things cooking in the cabin.  After a day of hard work, he was eager for a meal.

Life was easy and good for the Siliads.  They all pitched in, those who could, and everything went by smoothly.  The large garden seemingly looked after itself, as did the animals.   The only time they had to put a lot of regular and strong effort was in the harsh winters.  Snow fell hard on them then.

Isaac put away the ax in the woodshed and trudged to the house.  The dogs greeted him with wags as he walked across the porch and opened the door.  The first room was little more than a large coat closet.  Opening the next door revealed a wide room which acted as a sitting and dining room.  A large alcove in the wall held the ashes of past fires.  It was now cold, as the outdoor heat was sufficient for all.  Not including the one Isaac had just come through, there were six doors off of the sitting room.  One door was open and Isaac could see the womenfolk cooking in the kitchen.  Two doors closed off bedrooms, one of them belonging to his father and mother.  Another door closed off an unused, but rather large, room.  A door opened into a stairwell and the last opened into an earth stairway down to the too-small cellar.

After he rubbed his sore arms a bit, Isaac walked into the kitchen.  His mother, sisters – Kassie and Kestrel – and sister-in-law, Ruth, bustled about cooking up a mildly erratic array of foods.  As always, Isaac noticed that Kestrel was not nearly as energetically engaged as the others.  They weaved about each other, dodging the small baby crawling on the floor after her mother.

“Good evening, all,” Isaac said, picking the child off the floor.  The youngster whined at him as he did so.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Ruth said with a worn out smile. “She can get in the way, sometimes.”  Isaac looked at the culprit.

“Surely not this little one!” he said to the baby with a smile.  The baby gave him an attempt at a scowl and opened her mouth, revealing two small teeth.  Isaac handed her a small boiled carrot which she immediately began to chew on.

“Isaac, could you make yourself useful and round up all of the children and maybe your brothers and father as well.  This is almost ready and I don’t want it to get cold,” Elizabeth asked him.

“Certainly,” Isaac said, ignoring the glare that Kestrel gave him as he left; no doubt she was hoping to be sent out.  He put the baby down on the sitting room floor before leaving the cabin again.

While Kassie, married and a very feminine and petite young woman, took after her mother as a lady, Kestrel, only sixteen, took more after her independent and formerly ruffian father.  She did not like to sew, she did not like to cook, and she did not like to act like a lady.  She liked to wrestle with the dogs, climb rafters of the barn, throw rocks at the wild cats, and play with knives.  Elizabeth felt strongly that she was a bad example for the younger girls.  “Boys will do as boys will, but those girls need to learn the right lessons,” she would say.

The mentioned children had managed to scatter themselves about the meadow and yard in every conceivable place.  This was a relief to Isaac for they usually could be found only in the inconceivable places.

The two oldest were climbing the rafters of the barn. The next two were attempting to ride the pigs through the tall meadow grass.  The fifth was dragging one of the wild barncats toward a shallow stream.  Isaac removed the child and received a few scratches from the cat, which turned on its benefactor before scampering under the woodshed.

Returning to the house with the last child, Isaac found the rest yelling and arguing over seats at the table, the baby crying on the floor, and making the general ruckus associated with large numbers children.  Isaac tried to restore order, but the six renegades had all inherited the stubbornness of their grandfather and lacked respect for authority.

Isaac’s parents’ bedroom door opened and his father came out.  He walked slowly to the head of the table and sat down, quietly, and deliberately.  He looked at the riotous children and, just loud enough to be heard, said two words:

“Calm yourselves.”  Instant silence pervaded.  The children sat quietly, their hands folded neatly in their laps.  Even the baby had stopped crying, though possibly because she had found a stick on the floor to play with.

Isaac’s father used those two words a lot.  They worked on anything: frisky horses, bad-tempered dogs, loud children, or hungry bears growling and huffing.  Isaac was always amazed at this. He had tried it himself but the words didn’t work their magic for him.

Presently, as the women began setting the food over the table, Isaac’s brother, Gabriel, and brother-in-law, Nelson, came in and took their seats at the table as well.

What a meal had been prepared!  Of course, Isaac had been hard at work prior to it, but he looked forward to it heartily any day.  Two roasted rabbits, a mixture of vegetables, and a variety of fruits presented themselves.  Baked bread sat ready.  Warm aromas wafted throughout the room.

As they ate the meal, the children regaled everyone with their adventures that day.

“I climbed upside down on the highest rafter of the barn!” Raen, the oldest of the children, stated matter-of-factually.

“My goodness! Don’t you be doing things like that!” Ruth, her mother, fretted.

“I,” piped up Kelly, the next youngest, “knocked down a hornets’ nest the size of a pumpkin.”

“Heavens, girl! Were you stung?” Kassie, Kelly’s mother, asked.

“Twice!”

“One could only fancy where she could find such a thing,” Nelson noted to Isaac.

“I found a big snake and threw rocks at it!” exclaimed Travis.

“I found seven new kittens in the barn!” cried Cillia.

“Oh, good,” Isaac’s father commented, “The owl will have more morsels to catch again.  He hasn’t had any for a month and I was afraid he would leave.”  Gabriel snorted with laughter and shook his head, smiling broadly.  His father glanced over at him.

“Well it’s true,” he said. “That owl doesn’t like those stringy old barncats.”

The last announcement came from the toddler, Robbie.  With his mouth full of food he exclaimed, “Ah puwd kitty taow.”  Then he swallowed his food and repeated himself, the clarity of the message unchanged.  Translated it may have been “I pulled kitty’s tail” or it could have been merely “ah puwd kitty taow”.  Who could tell?

“It seems you all live wilder lives than I ever did,” Isaac’s father remarked.

“I’m quite sure that’s not true, Walter,” Elizabeth said with a small smile.  Isaac’s father shrugged.

 act

Very early the next morning, Isaac sleepily rolled out of bed and landed on the hard wooden floor.  He hissed out a breath as he pushed himself back up.  Out his window the sun had not yet risen.  He stood and dressed himself for the day, deciding to go out and finish stacking the wood he had split the day before.  It was cool out and the job would only become harder in the heat.

Slowly and with a lot of grimacing, Isaac crept down the stairs.  The grimacing was to hopefully discourage creaking, but too often his footfall was followed by a loud crack of the step.  He did not know if his father had done it intentionally, but every step (and door; when opened) in the house creaked violently when stepped on.  When Gabriel offered on numerous occasions to fix the creaking doors and steps, Walter, their father, had told him not to worry about it and said he would do it himself.  It was never done.

Luckily, no one seemed to wake up.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, Isaac very slowly pushed open the stairwell door.  He was surprised to find the sitting room lit.  He pushed the door open a little wider.

His father sat in on a wooden stool in front of a small fire.  It was summer and the nights did not bring a chill.  Sitting on the floor next to him was Camron, the mastiff.  On his father’s lap was his gold medal.  He appeared deep in thought: his brow was knit and a slight frown was on his lips.  Feeling that his father should not be disturbed, Isaac returned to bed.

 act

An air of unease unexpectedly fell upon the tavern’s occupants.  All looked around confused at the sudden chill in the room.  The answer lay at the door.

Four men had entered, two normal, working men like all the others in the room.  One, a proud man with a superior sneer on his face, wore black leather, but the last wore a black cloak that covered every inch, leaving nothing but a ghostly outline of a man.

The two woodsmen of the newer company immediately took a seat, looking as nervous as everyone else felt.  Three men at the tavern counter stood, hastily placed some coins on the counter and left, donning coats and hats.

The two dark dressed men approached the counter.  The tavern-keeper eyed them suspiciously.

“What can I get you?” he asked with stressed politeness.  The cloaked man answered.

“I want board for two,” he said with a silver whisper.  The tavern-keeper shivered slightly.

“I haven’t got any room,” the keeper replied.  The stranger reached into his cloak, drawing out a gold coin.  The keeper stared at it.

“What’s that for?”  The stranger placed it on the counter.

“For board.”  The keeper chewed his lip.

“I…,” he said hesitantly, “…guess I can make room.”

“Excellent,” the stranger said, his voice cold.  The keeper took the coin and motioned for them to follow him.  He lead them to a small room with two simple beds.

“This is yours then,” the keeper said as he hastily left.

Once the keeper was gone, the cloaked man turned to his companion.

“Tonight, bring me back that coin.”

 act

Chapter II

The next morning, Walter woke him up just as the sun touched the horizon.  Isaac glanced around blearily.

“Get yourself ready,” Walter said to him gruffly. “We’re a bit low on dried venison; we need to go hunting.” These words, said lightly, were enough to wake Isaac up almost completely.  Hunting meant up to two weeks miles in the northern wastelands where much time was spent talking and listening to stories of Walter’s life before he settled down with a family.  These were memorable experiences that both Gabriel and Isaac cherished.

Isaac leapt out of bed, searched about for a bag, and eagerly began to toss items into one upon finding it.  Walter watched him scramble about with mild interest.

“No need to hurry,” he said with a chuckle as he walked out of the room. “I’m an old man; you only need to match my pace.”  Isaac stopped for a moment, a bit embarrassed.  He admitted to himself that he had been rushing unnecessarily.  Although chastened, Isaac continued preparing with a bit extra haste.  He could not help his anticipation.

A bag collected, he went down the stairs, trying to be quiet, but not quietly enough to stop loud creaks from erupting from the steps.  He found Walter already downstairs gathering food items for their trip.

“You may as well get the wagon ready,” he said as Isaac entered the room.  Isaac set his bag down on the floor next to the wall and stepped outside.  The dogs were still asleep on the step, but Camron lifted his head as Isaac stepped over him.  Isaac scratched the dog’s ear.

Whistling, Isaac crossed the grass as he made his way to the barn.  Opening the barn, he startled a small army of cats from their perches.  Shooing them away, Isaac went to the wagon, evicting any occupants.  A few minutes later he had the wagon tethered and waiting outside the barn.  Satisfied he walked back onto the porch, opened the front door, but did not go in.  Instead he closed it, turned around quietly and patiently waited.  He bounced himself lightly on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back.

Shortly he heard the scraping of something sliding over the roof.  A moment later a pair of legs swung down over the lip of the eaves. There was a pause and Kestrel jumped down, landing on the grass. Immediately she began sprinting for the wagon, but she stopped when she noticed Isaac watching her.

She didn’t say anything.  She just huffed angrily, crossed her arms and marched back toward the cabin, shouldering Isaac violently as she went past.  Shaking his head and grinning, Isaac followed her into the house.

Upon entering the cabin, Kestrel tried to sneak past Walter, whose back was to her.  Walter didn’t even look up but said, “You are not coming, Kestrel.”  Kestrel stopped and walked around the table to face her father.

“Why not, Father?” she complained. “I can hunt, I can be useful.  Why can’t I go?”  Walter sighed and looked at her closely.

“Hunting isn’t for girls.  Your mother does not approve.  You need to stay here and help the others with the children,” he said to her.

“But I don’t like looking after them,” she moaned. “Let me come along.  Please, Father?  Let me come.”  Walter tugged the beard on his chin, thoughtfully, a considering look on his face.  After a moment, he smiled softly and looked at his daughter.

“No,” he said.  He turned back to his work.  Kestrel glared at him for a few moments.  She turned away, and went back up the stairs, giving Walter a swift kick in the shin as she passed.  Walter watched his offspring disappear up the steps.  As soon as she had gone, Walter gave a slight groan and bent over to rub his leg.

“Feisty little spitfire,” he grumbled.  Isaac laughed.

“The wagon is ready,” he said.  Walter straightened.

“Alright.  Take these bags out for me would you?” he replied.  Isaac went to the table and hefted up the bags.

“Oh, and when you are done with that, you can get the bows out of the barn,” Walter said, stopping him before he left the room.  Isaac nodded hastily and opened the door.

When he got out to the wagon, he was careful to forcefully drop the bags on the pile of blankets there.  He heard a muffled exclamation from under them.  A moment later, Kestrel reluctantly climbed out of the pile and plodded back to the cabin.

Over the next hour, Walter, Isaac, and Gabriel prepared for the hunt, casually sending Kestrel back to the cabin on a regular basis.  Her attempts to hide herself were less aimed to be effective as they were to show her persistent wish to accompany them.  However her persistence had no effect on her hard-hearted father.  Her kicking him probably hadn’t helped either; Isaac noticed Walter was limping ever so slightly from Kestrel’s kick.

“I’m not young anymore,” Walter growled.

Kestrel made one last attempt before the three men left.  While they were saddling the three horses not pulling the wagon, Kestrel made a try at negotiation again.

“I can shoot a bow!” she said. “There are four bows; I could use one.”

“No,” answered Walter happily.

“I could skin whatever you kill!”

“No.”

“I know how to cook.  You could let me cook for you!”

“No.  You hate cooking.”

“You could find any use for me, just let me come.”

“No,” Walter said again firmly. “Come on, boys, we don’t have all day to sit around.”  Isaac and Gabriel exchanged grins and mounted their horses.  Walter tied his to the back of the wagon.  It was an old grey horse he called Mountain.

“Goodbye, Kestrel,” Gabriel said. “Be a good girl.”  Kestrel threw the closest thing at hand at him, which happened to only be a handful of dust.  Her face burning with anger.  Gabriel and Isaac laughed and set their horses galloping away from the irritated girl.  Walter smiled and climbed into the wagon.

“Come on, Camron!” Walter said.  He whistled at the porch.  Both dogs immediately looked up.  “Come on, Camron…  You might as well come along too, Barley, you useless dog.”  Both dogs jumped up and plodded over to the wagon.  Camron, being older, jumped in the wagon.  Barley tried to follow, but Walter pushed him away.

“You can walk, Barley.”  The white dog whined at him.  Walter chuckled and flicked the reigns.

They set out, heading north.

 act

The entire first day was spent traveling, mainly because the wagon couldn’t move very fast over the uneven ground that gradually was sloping upward and through the dense trees and bushes.  But they made good distance by the time Walter called for them to stop.

“We might as well stop now.  The horses are getting tired and so am I, frankly,” Walter decided. “Let’s set up camp before the sun sets.”

They untied the horses, removed their saddles and let them roam and graze.  Meanwhile, Gabriel and Isaac set up a large tent on a more or less even patch of ground.  Walter lit a fire and shortly had a warm flame burning.

“I must say, I almost gave in when Kestrel offered to come cook,” Walter said thoughtfully as Isaac and Gabriel came over to sit next to the fire. “Wouldn’t be any good to let her win any arguments, though,” he continued.  Isaac and Gabriel both snorted.

“You’re a stubborn man, Father,” Gabriel commented.

“Don’t I know it,” Walter grumbled. “One of you fetch me a pot of water so I can start some soup.”  Isaac glanced around.  A small stream flowed by twenty yards away.  Isaac took the pot from Walter and walked down to the stream.  Barley barked and followed after him.

As Isaac filled the pot, Barley sniffed around the ground.  A pine-cone fell out of a tree above and landed a few feet from the white dog. Barley yelped as it hit the ground and began bolting back to the fire.  He stopped and looked back warily when nothing followed him.

“You are a yellow one, aren’t you, Barley,” Isaac laughed.  The dog whined at him.

 act

Walter, disliking cooking as much as Kestrel, was a better cook than would be expected.  He threw in dried venison, chopped carrots and potatoes, pepper kernels, a small amount of salt, and peas.  Walter certainly knew what he was doing.  The smell soon wafted through the trees.

“When did you learn to cook?” Gabriel asked his father.

“When a man travels over miles of mountain, forest, and wildlands with no one but a dog, he learns to cook for himself,” Walter answered, stirring the pot.

“Where did you roam around, Father?” Isaac asked.  Walter put down the spoon and scratched his chin.

“I ‘roamed’, as you say, many places.  First, I ‘roamed’ in Le Osliad Ro Lian.  Wasn’t much there to learn there, though.  Later, I ended up in Pathia.  I was in many places in Pathia.  At first I was in the Dathia nation.  I eventually ended up in Nianom, which is on the northernmost edge of Pathia.” Walter paused. “My goodness do they have bad weather there!”  He shook his head.

“After I left Nianom, I came here to Kosmodon.  From that time, I traveled through Gilead.  I spent much of my traveling life in Gilead,” Walter said, taking up the spoon again and mixing the contents of the pot.

After a few moments of silence, it became clear that Walter felt that he had said enough.  Gabriel then asked, “Where were you when you were in Gilead?”

“Well,” Walter said, “Before I decided to settle down, I lived on a high mountain.  Twenty-three miles southeast of that was a small village called Glaidael.  My, that was a town of character.  The mayor, a tough old knight by the name of Sir Allen Aldrich, and I got in all sorts of arguments, mainly because the man didn’t trust me.  Then there was Warden Clark.  That man was always certain I was about to kill him or one of the children under his supervision.”  Walter laughed.  “That old fool used to threaten me with his sword for any odd reason.”  Walter laughed again.

“Then there was Fort Treaty, some eight miles over the mountains to the northwest.  There was a captain there… his name eludes me – he wasn’t fond of me either.  Saw me as a trouble maker,” Walter remembered. “He tried to run me out of his jurisdiction a few times, but he could never figure out where I was holed up in the mountains.”

“There were also…” Walter started, but stopped abruptly. His smile disappeared.  A strange look appeared on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked.  Walter looked up and scowled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he muttered.  He gave the pot another stir. “I believe the soup is done,” he said. “Fetch some bowls, Gabriel.” Gabriel stood up slowly, shrugged, then went to the wagon.

 act

It was early morning when Walter decided to wake his sons.

“Get up.  The sun is moving along without us and we still have some distance to cover yet,” Walter said as the two rubbed their eyes.

Isaac rolled up his blankets and walked to the wagon where Walter was rifling through it.  He tossed in his bundle and asked, “What’s for breakfast?” Walter glanced up at him and threw him a slightly squashed plum and a lump of cheese.

“That will hold you for now,” he said. “I want to get going before it starts getting hot.”  Isaac studied the plum skeptically.  Sighing, he bit into it.

Gabriel took down the tent and tossed it in the wagon.  “Let’s be off then,” he yawned.

“You can take the wagon, Gabriel,” Walter said as he saddled Mountain.

As they were mounting up, Isaac noticed Barley looking back south, the way they had come the day before.  Curious, Isaac followed the dog’s gaze.

“Oh, wonderful,” he muttered.  Walter glanced at him.

“What is?” his father asked.  Isaac met his father’s look.

“A pesky, persistent, and irritating little bird is flying north for the summer,” Isaac replied.  Walter scowled in confusion and looked back.  His expression hardened.

“A curse on Mother Nature!  Why’d she have to be so much like me?” Walter cursed as Kestrel tiredly stumbled up.

“What in the name of the blazing sun are you doing here?” Walter roared at the girl.  Isaac studied his sister.  She was a bit bruised and scraped.  Her legs were shaky and her eyes were mildly bloodshot.  Kestrel looked up at her father and smiled weakly.

“I wanted to come along, Father,” she mumbled.  Walter tugged at his beard.

“What were you thinking coming all the way up here?  Alone at that!” Walter demanded.  Kestrel shrugged feebly and leaned against the wagon for support.

“How many times have I told you children the dangers of the woods around here?  Wolves!  Wild cats!  You’re lucky none of them got you!” Walter shouted. “Or bears!”  Kestrel didn’t reply but began wiping sweat off her forehead.  Walter glared down at her.

“If you weren’t dead as it is, I’d send you back right now,” he growled.  Kestrel looked up, and her face lit up with what excitement her tired frame could muster.

“So, I’m going to make sure that this is an unenjoyable experience for you,” he said with a smug grin. “Now let’s go!”  He set Mountain into a trot and moved away.  Isaac followed.  Kestrel began to climb in the back of the wagon.

Then Walter looked back.  A look of mock surprise filled his face.

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed.  Kestrel paused and looked up. “You aren’t going along in the wagon like an invalid.  Get on the horse.”  Kestrel began to protest.

“But I’m tired!” she complained.  Walter nodded.

“I believe you,” he said. “On the horse.  It’s not my fault you chose to walk through the night to get here.  Go on.”  Kestrel sullenly went to the horse and attempted to mount it.  As tired as she was, it took her four tries to make it.

“Right then!” Walter said cheerily. “Let’s be on our way.”

 blank

Kestrel was so tired, she slept most of that day’s trip, her face buried in the horse’s mane.  Fortunately for Kestrel, the horse was smart enough to follow the others.

“She’s a tough one, I must admit,” Walter noted as the girl was asleep.

“I am impressed she found us at all,” Gabriel said.

That entire day was also devoted to travel.  By this time, they had reached their destination.

Isaac looked over the now familiar landscape.  They stood at the head of a valley on a mountain.  Below fog covered a thick forest, but not enough that they couldn’t see the trees.  Water flowed out of the mountains into the valley, reflecting sunlight everywhere.  The scent of fresh rain wafted through the air.

Walter looked over the valley as well, a look of pleasure on his face.

“Well,” he said after a few minutes. “Let’s get camp set up, eh?”  He turned around and noticed Kestrel who was still asleep on the horse.  He smiled warmly.

“Could you fetch a bucket of water, Isaac?”

 blank

When Isaac brought back a bucket of water, Walter and Gabriel had a tent up and a fire started.  Kestrel was still asleep.

“Ahh. Thank you, Isaac,” Walter said.  He took the bucket of water and set it next to fire.  He scooped up a handful of water in his palm. He straightened… and threw the icy-cold, mountain water into Kestrel’s sleeping face.

Kestrel gasped, her eyes opening immediately.  She jumped at the shock, lost her balance, and began to fall off the horse.  She floundered a moment trying to stop her fall, but only succeeded in catching her foot on the far side of the saddle.  She went down, but her caught leg stopped her from going completely off.  Her upper half hit the ground, and Kestrel let out a huff from pain and impact.

For the next few moments she gasped, refilling her lungs, while the three men bent with laughter.  Kestrel finally managed to free her leg, causing the rest of her to fall down as well.

Kestrel stood up, her face burning with anger and embarrassment. She glared at her comrades, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Good morning,” Walter said as soon as he had stopped laughing. “How about you make something by way of food for us?”  Kestrel glared.

“Why should I?” she cried.  Walter smiled.

“Because I let you come along,” he said. “You said you would cook for us.  So get on with it.”  Kestrel began to argue but Walter tossed another handful of water at her, forcing her to stop and step out of the way.

“No arguing,” Walter said. “Go on.  Here’s a bucket of water for you: hop to it.”  Kestrel sighed angrily and went to the wagon to get food supplies.

By the time they had eaten, the sun had set and the four of them sat around the fire watching the smoke ascend into the dark sky, lit only by the half-moon.

“This place never ceases to amaze me with its beauty,” Walter remarked quietly.  After a moment he stood and walked out of the firelight.

A few moments later, he returned.  And he was carrying a—

“Mandolin?” Gabriel asked when he noticed it. “I didn’t even know you had one.”  Walter shrugged and sat down.

“Didn’t know you could play either,” he continued.  Walter snorted.

“I wouldn’t be so sure I can,” Walter said. “I haven’t played this thing since I courted your mother.”

“But who taught you?” Gabriel questioned. “If anything Mother says about your days before a family are true you didn’t have time or patience for that sort of thing.”  Walter smiled.

“That’s true,” Walter chuckled. “I once had an—ah… apprentice who played.  He played rather well, I suppose now that I think of it.  I always thought of it as a nuisance at the time.  But then I got old and soft and allowed him to teach me how to play.”  Walter chuckled again. “I also noticed it had an effect on women, too, so I tried it on your mother.  I must say she liked it.”

“Where did you notice that?” Kestrel asked, sounding interested.  Walter looked at her.

“Well, while he was my apprentice, he caught the eye of a young lady, partly with the mandolin.  She was enthralled with him for many years,” Walter said.  When it became clear that he had finished, Kestrel asked again,

“And what happened?” Walter looked up again.

“Oh, she came to her senses,” he stated simply, ignoring Kestrel responding look of protest. “She was still rather young and my apprentice was a bit of a wild hand, so to speak.  She – wisely – decided her time was better spent pursuing other causes.”

“Such as…?” Isaac pressed.  Walter smiled slightly at the thought.

“She became an… apprentice of a colleague of mine, until…” Walter’s expression darkened and he involuntarily glanced northward. “Until he had an unfortunate accident and was killed.  I had no apprentice by that time and so she completed her training under my direction.”  There was a pause of silence.

“What happened to her original mentor?” Gabriel asked tentatively. Walter scowled.

“He had a run-in with a particularly dangerous wild animal and died,” he grunted.  No one said anything for a while. Walter strummed a few strokes on his mandolin.

“Who were they?” Kestrel asked.

“Who?”

“The people, the apprentices. Who where they?” she asked.  Walter scratched his neck and looked upward.

“Well, my apprentice’s name was Lance Crowley.  Strange, arrogant fellow, him; he always went about with a crow on his shoulder.  The young woman… well I don’t think she would like me spreading her name,” Walter told them.

“Who was your colleague?” Isaac asked.  Walter glanced at him.

“Well, first I must tell you that he was only my colleague in profession.  We were on good terms, but we weren’t really the best of friends.  He was a very skilled man by the name of Riverton.  It was unfortunate he had to go the way he did.”  Walter played a few more chords.

“Had you no friends at all?” Gabriel asked.  Walter shook his head.

“Not for most of my life.  I did not like Crowley much.  He was too cocky and arrogant.  I was friendly to my comrades of course, and I made some friends in my last years in Pathia and my early years in Kosmodon, but after I came to Gilead, I didn’t have anyone that I felt closer to for a long time,” Walter recalled quietly.

“But who was it when you did?” Isaac asked.  Walter leaned forward, scratched his chin, and looked into the flames, deep in thought.

“For a long time I lived a distance away from the village Glaidael.  I told you this last night, but the mayor, Sir Aldrich, and I did not get along well.  Nor did I get along with Aldrich’s right-hand man, Warden Clark.

“But…” Walter was silent. “I don’t really like much to speak about it really.”  He fell silent again and strummed a tune, humming a bit.

“Will you tell us anyway?” Kestrel asked quietly. Walter stopped playing and sighed.  He glanced at the ground and set down his mandolin.

“Well…” he said, scratching his neck.

“One night when I happened to be in the village, a wild animal attacked a small cabin that was a way out of town.  The cabin was officially under the Warden’s control and he had six orphan children living in it.  Sir Aldrich managed to get to the cabin with some men before any of the children got hurt (although the Warden did take a nice blow to the head).  Well, the cabin was damaged and the children couldn’t stay there anymore, and the Warden didn’t have any more room for them.  I was there and I offered, out of duty, to take the children to stay in my cabin.

“Sir Aldrich didn’t like that idea much, but he had no other alternative so he reluctantly allowed me to take them.  He sent the Warden along, too, to make sure everything stayed in line,” Walter told them.  He looked up at the moon for a moment.

“Who were the children?” Kestrel asked.  Walter lowered his gaze to his daughter.

“Their names were Kaleb, Harriet, Shaelin, Howard, Josie, and Gabriel,” he said in a hushed voice.  Gabriel looked up in recognition of his name.  Walter continued: “Shaelin had a cat.  Josie had a fine dog, too.”  Barley whined from his place next to Camron.  Walter patted the dog, its white fur colored yellow by the flames.

“These six were my first sort of friends I had had for some years.  They were all children struck by misfortune, too.  Kaleb’s and Gabriel’s parents were both enlisted into the Toldorum militia, leaving them alone.  Little Harriet’s parents, not to mention her entire village, were killed by a plague when she was very small.  Poor Josie’s parents were slaughtered by wild beasts at their homestead in mountains south of here somewhere.  Shaelin certainly had a special problem; her father suffered from insanity after being attacked by a particularly dangerous beast, and he somewhat passed on the disorder to Shaelin when she was born.  Her village was a very suspicious one and drove her out under the pretense that she was a demon-child.  Howard’s is probably the worst though: his parents abandoned him when he was young.  They threw him out of their house.”  Walter fell silent for a few minutes as the others processed what he had said.

“It was that time when Riverton died, and I took on his apprentice. She thought the children were agreeable as well, but she wasn’t as fond of them as I was.

“I came to like them well enough, you see, and it was probably those six who got be thinking of settling down and having children of my own,” Walter said.

“Now I suppose that is not entirely true,” he interposed. “I traveled for some time with a Berian I met in Nianom.  Quite an agreeable fellow as Berian men go.  I befriended a beggar man in the southeast side of Gilead for the time I was there.  And then there was the Hanidier knight and his companion, a Jagrian.  That was a strange twosome.”  Walter smiled at the three of them.  “I was not devoid of friends.”

He stopped talking.  All of them were silent for a long time.

Sparks from the fire flitted into the sky like a swarm of grasshoppers, flying erratically every which-way.

“Where is Glaidael?” Kestrel asked.  By now the fire had died down to a bed of coals that provided a small orange glow of light.  Walter rubbed his forehead.

“It used to be in Gilead, but it was destroyed shortly after I met the six children.  It and every other town in Gilead,” Walter answered.

“But where was it?” Kestrel insisted.  Walter looked down at the coals.

“It was in this valley,” he said, “a few miles north.”  Kestrel gasped.

“Really?  Could we go there and see it?”  Walter gave no reply.

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Four men occupied a small clearing amid a large thicket of trees.  One man paced around the perimeter; the rest sat around a small fire.  Two of the men sat huddled together, withering under the gaze of the fourth man, a man dressed in a black, shroud-like cloak.

“Must I express my displeasure at having to travel so far to accomplish my means?” the cloaked man asked, a snarl in his voice.  The two men cowered.

“We told you the distance would be far—” one of the two started but was cut off by the cloaked man.

“You failed to tell me how long it would take to get there,” the man growled, standing.  He advanced across to the other men.

Fearfully, the two men stood as the menacing figure approached.  “Please, we don’t have much farther—”  His words were again cut off as the cloaked man swiped his hand across the other’s cheek.  The man cried out and clutched his face as a thin line of blood welled up in the gash that had appeared.  It was then that they noticed a knife in the cloaked man’s hand.

“Please!”  The dark figure ignored him.

“I will not be tolerant of such incompetence much longer.  I had best not be disappointed, for your own good.”

 act

Chapter III

Isaac awoke.  He looked around.  Faint light was seeping through the wall of the tent.  Isaac could see Walter sleeping with one arm draped over his eyes.  Gabriel was laying on his belly, his face buried in his blankets.  Kestrel was curled in a ball, occasionally twitching or frowning in her sleep.

Careful not to disturb them, Isaac crept out of the tent.  He was greeted by Camron and Barley; both dogs began wagging.

Isaac stretched and glanced around.  A thick fog obscured everything, isolating their campsite in grey bubble.  The air was cool and a soft breeze blew over Isaac’s skin.  He enjoyed the sensation.

The sun was beginning to rise.  Isaac could look directly at it: the brightest of the light was blocked by the mist.  The sun tossed colors of deep, rich orange and red into the sky, illuminating a pair of eagles soaring high above.  Isaac heard one of them cry, its arresting and powerful sound striking his ears and filling him with peaceful awe for the beauty of the nature around him.

Kestrel was the next to come out.  The fog had begun to dissipate and Isaac, standing at the edge of their camp, could see the rays of sun streaming through the mist that covered the forest floor in the valley below.  Kestrel walked up beside him.

“Amazing,” she said quietly, looked over the valley.  The tops of the lush, coniferous trees could just be seen poking up through the waves of mist shrouding them.

“It is very pretty,” Isaac agreed.

“Do you always come here?” she asked.

Isaac thought about it before saying, “This is usually where we come, yes.  I think Father likes it here.  After all, it is near where… Glaidael was, as we now know.”  Kestrel looked up into Isaac’s face.

“I want to see it!” she said. “I want to know all about it!  It must have been a fascinating place if Father loved it so much.”  Isaac shrugged.

“Or maybe it reminds him of memories that he wants to hang on to,” he suggested.  He noticed a rainbow on the forest canopy, shining brightly.  Isaac smiled happily.  Kestrel smiled too.

“I just want this to last forever, all this beauty,” Kestrel decided.

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“Alright,” Walter said.  The four of them sat around their small breakfast fire, eating a few eggs that Walter had brought along.  “Today we start our hunt.  This valley is usually full of deer, so it shouldn’t be too hard getting one.

“We will only be getting bucks, the bigger the better, but don’t get any very large bucks, the old ones.  I like my venison fresh, not as old as I am,” Walter said.  Gabriel and Isaac laughed briefly.

“But before we can start all that, we’ll need to brush up on our archery skills,” Walter said, pointedly looking at Kestrel.  Kestrel frowned.

“What?” she complained. “I can shoot a bow.”  Walter continued to look at her.

“We’ll see, now won’t we,” he said. “So!  Once you are through eating, come grab a bow.”  Walter stood and walked to the wagon.  He began taking the bows out of the wagon and stringing them.

Isaac quickly finished his meal and went to the wagon.  He looked at the four bows.  He knew that the black one was Walter’s and it would be best not to take it.  Isaac chose the white wooded bow and tested its draw strength.  Satisfied, he picked up a quiver of arrows.

Kestrel followed shortly behind and chose the lightest of the bows.  She drew it back and forth several times.

When Gabriel came over and took the last bow, Walter turned to face them.  He had set up several blocks of wood to use as targets.

“For starters, we’ll shoot at these blocks of wood I’ve put up,” Walter said. “And, Kestrel, I do believe we’ll start with you.  Hit that first block.”

The first block of wood was ten yards away.  Kestrel looked at it a moment, then drew an arrow from her quiver.  Setting the arrow on the bowstring, she drew the bow back, aimed briefly, and let the arrow fly.

The arrow struck the block of wood with a loud crack and the block wobbled.  Kestrel looked at all of them proudly.

“Very good,” Walter said. “Hit the next one.”  The next was twenty yards away.  Kestrel frowned at the block slightly and drew another arrow.

Smack!  Her next arrow hit the block of wood barely on its side.  But it was a good solid blow and the block teetered.

“Good!” Walter said. “Now the last one.”  The last was a fairly long shot, forty yards away.  Kestrel frowned at the distance, bit her lip, and drew another arrow.

This shot missed by five feet, sending up a spray of dirt where the arrow landed.  Kestrel looked at the ground and didn’t say anything.

“Not too bad,” Walter said. “Isaac you take a shot at the far one.”

Isaac notched an arrow and studied his target.  After a few moments he drew back, aimed, and released.  He watched eagerly as the arrow flew.

The arrow collided accurately with the block of wood.  Isaac smiled and looked over at his father.  Walter was nodding and smiling.

“Very good,” he said. “Gabriel…”

Gabriel’s arrow struck the block as well.

“I suppose it’s my turn then,” Walter said.  He hefted his bow and notched an arrow.

Walter lifted the bow and drew it back.  A second later, he let it fly.  The arrow smacked the center of the block and set it rolling back a foot or so.  Walter nodded in satisfaction.

“Good.  I was afraid I was slipping up,” he said.  He turned back to the others.  “Go fetch your arrows.”

It took a bit of working the arrows to get them out of the wood.  Eventually, Isaac just cut his out with a knife.

“Bring the blocks back with you,” Walter called after them.

Once they had gathered back next to Walter, Walter said, “Now back up twenty yards or so.  We’ll need the most practice hitting moving targets.”  The three of them backed up.

“Kestrel, this first one is yours,” Walter called. “Let the thing roll a bit so you don’t hit me when you miss.”  Kestrel’s face turned bright red with anger as she lifted her bow.

Walter hurled the block, causing it to roll rapidly perpendicular to their line of fire.  Kestrel released an arrow.  The arrow arced through the air, missed the block by a foot in front of it and struck the ground a few feet away from Camron.  The old dog barked as indignantly as a dog could and moved behind the wagon.

“Don’t shoot my dog, either,” Walter warned.  Kestrel threw down her bow and stalked away a few paces.  Gabriel looked at Isaac, nodded Kestrel’s way and grinned.  Isaac grinned back and shook his head.

“Isaac, you hit this one,” Walter said.  Isaac readied his bow.

The block went spinning.  Isaac hastily aimed, surprised at its speed, and released the bowstring.  His arrow plowed through the dirt a few feet past the block: he had missed.

“Tough luck, brother,” Gabriel laughed as he notched an arrow in his bow.  Isaac shrugged.

“I’ll be better by the end of the day,” he replied.

Gabriel lifted his bow and pulled it to half-draw, ready.  Walter rolled the block.  Gabriel watched it for a few moments, pulled the bow to full draw, and released.  His arrow collided with the front of the block, sending it rolling off course.  Gabriel smiled.

“Very good!” Walter called, a large smile on his face.  Gabriel turned back to Isaac and clapped him teasingly on the shoulder.  Isaac gave him a swat.

“Kestrel!” Walter said as he walked over the where the blocks had come to a stop.  The girl looked over. “Come to fifteen yards and shoot this block.”  Kestrel huffed and picked up her bow again.  Again, she missed.  Everyone else was wise enough not to comment on it.

“Isaac,” Walter said. “Come to fifteen yards.”  Isaac walked forward.  He scowled at the block, determined to hit it this time.  He lifted the bow.

The block began rolling.  Isaac drew to bow back; he aimed carefully, and fired.  His arrow crashed solidly into the block.

“That’s better!” Walter called. “Gabriel move back five yards!”

Gabriel stepped back and loaded his bow.  Walter rolled the block and Gabriel released the arrow, striking the block again.

“Excellent!” Walter exclaimed. “Kestrel, come forward five yards.”

They continued this activity for an hour.  Kestrel made her way up to thirty-five yards, Isaac made his way up to fifty yards, and Gabriel got up to seventy yards.  Walter praised Isaac and Kestrel for their successes, but said nothing to Gabriel: he only smiled widely.

“Now then,” Walter said. “I suppose I should take a few shots.  Gabriel, come roll the blocks for me.”

Gabriel picked up one of the blocks and hefted it.  “Ready when you are, Father,” he said.

Walter stood at twenty yards, bow loaded and at half draw.  Gabriel rolled the block as hard as he could.  Smack!  The arrow, propelled by Walter’s powerful bow, crashed into the block and sent it skittering sideways.  Walter nodded and moved back to thirty yards.

Gabriel rolled the block again.  Thunk!  Walter smiled in satisfaction as the block went wobbling again.

Gabriel tossed the next block as Walter stopped at forty yards.  Thud!  Walter moved back to fifty.  Thud!  Walter moved to sixty.  Thud!  Seventy.  Thud!

Isaac’s and Kestrel’s eyes grew wider and wider as their father moved back farther and farther.  Ninety.  Thud!  One hundred.  Thud!  One hundred and ten!  Thud!  One hundred and twenty!  Thud!  One hundred thirty!  Thud!

It was not until one hundred fifty that Walter finally missed.  All three of his children stood dumbfounded and silent as Walter approached them.

When Walter stopped in front of them, he merely shrugged.

“I was better when I was younger,” he said.

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After they stopped shooting their bows, Walter decided it was time to take the wagon down into the valley.  They packed everything up, placed it in the wagon, and set off again, going downward into the thickly forested valley.  Kestrel was a little bit confused as she looked at the grim faces around her.  Her confusion disappeared when the wagon stopped.

Before them was a steep downward slope, clear of trees, that swept to the floor of the valley.  They had come halfway down on a more or less decent route but were now faced with this slope the other half of the way.  Walter, Isaac, and Gabriel had been expecting this.

“Well!” Walter sighed. “Everyone off the horses.”  Kestrel, Gabriel, and Isaac all dismounted.  The two dogs sat on the damp ground, watching.

“Kestrel since you are unfamiliar with the plan here, this is it,” Walter said. “You are going to take the horses down.  Me, Gabriel, and Isaac are going to tie ropes to the back of the wagon and slow the wagon’s descent as we take it down.”  As he said this, Isaac and Gabriel began tying the mentioned ropes to the wagon’s back edge, making doubly sure that they were secure.

“The ropes are ready, Father,” Gabriel said tugging on the ropes.  Walter climbed out of the wagon.

“Good.  I’ll unhitch the horse from the wagon and we can start down.

Isaac glanced down the slope again.  The steep downward slant was muddy and the grass was slick.

“This is going to be interesting,” he said to no one in particular.

Walter moved the wagon horses away from the wagon and joined Gabriel and Isaac.  He took a rope and gave it a solid pull.  Satisfied he nodded and looked back at Isaac and Gabriel.

“Alright.  Let’s get this over with,” Walter said.

The three men pushed the wagon forward toward the lip of the slope.  Fortunately, the slope started out gradually before coming to the foreboding drop.  The wheels of the wagon sank into the mud, slowing it down, but it wouldn’t do so for the steep part of the hill.  When it got there it would slip and slide and break its wheels off if the three men didn’t slow its descent.

As soon as the wagon began rolling on its own, the three stepped back and secured their grips on the ropes.  The wagon rolled to the maximum length of the ropes.  The ensuing jolt pulled the men forward a few steps.

Now the wagon was approaching the steeper part of the slope and it was picking up speed.  Walter, Gabriel, and Isaac pulled back, slowing the wagon a bit.

“Here it comes!” Walter growled through his teeth.  The wagon rolled forward a few more feet and hit the steepest section of the slope.

The following yank the wagon gave them almost took the ropes out of their hands and knocked them off their feet.  As it was, it pulled them forward twelve feet.

Growling and cursing, the three hauled back on the ropes.  The wagon’s downward descent dragged them forward, their feet slipping over the mud and wet grass.

“Keep it straight!” Walter hollered. “If it twists, the wheels will break!”

Isaac blinked sweat out of his eye and tugged back on the rope.  The wagon was not slowing; they were merely slowing its acceleration.

Downward and downward the wagon dragged them as they dragged back with all their might.  Mud from the wagon’s spinning wheels flicked back and smacked the men’s faces and clothes.

It took only four minutes for them to reach the bottom, but to Isaac, it felt much longer.  As soon as the wagon came to a stop, Isaac immediately leaned forward, supporting himself on his knees.  Gabriel did the same.  Walter took to leaning on the wagon.  All three of them were breathing heavily.

“Well!” Gabriel said after a minute or so. “I can’t wait to drag that thing back up the hill!”

Walter straightened and shook his arms at his sides.  He looked up the hill.  Isaac turned and looked as well.  Kestrel was managing well enough bringing the horses down the muddy slope.  Camron and Barley tagged along behind her.

In a few more minutes, Isaac was feeling more energized again.  It appeared that Gabriel and Walter felt the same way, and Walter appeared to be eager to get down to business again.

As soon as Kestrel had joined them and the two horses stood at the head of the wagon again, Walter spoke again.

“You three,” he said, “go down to our usual campsite.  Isaac, Gabriel – you know where that is.  Take the wagon with you and get things ready.  I’m going to scout around and see what I can find.”  Isaac and Gabriel nodded.

“Where is the usual campsite?” Kestrel asked.  No one answered her.

Walter swung his leg over his horse’s saddle and grasped the reins.  He looked down at his children for a moment.

“I’ll see you all tonight then,” he announced.  He glanced at the two dogs sitting on the ground.  “Make sure Kestrel makes something to eat before I’m back.  …And don’t let Barley ride in the wagon,” he added.  The white dog whined up at his master.

“Come on, Camron,” Walter said as his horse pranced away.  The old, brown dog bounded after him.

Isaac watched his father go, then turned when he noticed Gabriel grinning at him.

“You can take the wagon,” he informed Isaac.  Before Isaac could argue, Gabriel jumped on his horse and galloped off a few yards.  Isaac scowled and climbed into the wagon.  He clicked the reins and started the horses forward.  Barley wisely chose not to jump in the wagon.

Their end destination was a hollow formed by three massive trees.  Their wide branches draped over the space between them forming a perfect shelter.  Smaller trees surrounded the hollow, thus providing additional cover.

Gabriel happily took the opportunity to take charge in Walter’s absence.

“Kestrel, Isaac – get wood for at least a week of fires,” he ordered with a grin. “I’ll put up the tent and start a fire when you have enough wood for one.”  Isaac rolled his eyes and jumped down off the wagon.

“What does getting wood entail?” Kestrel asked Isaac as he rummaged through the wagon looking for an ax.

“It entails…,” Isaac muttered, “…felling a tree.”  Isaac yanked the ax free of the canvas and turned around.  Kestrel looked up at him quizzically.

“But what does it entail for me?” she asked.  Isaac paused and pretended to think about it.  A satisfied smile lit his face as he seemed to remember.

“You get to bring the tree back,” he informed his sister.

By the time Walter had returned, a tree had been felled, chopped up, dragged back, lit on fire, and used to roast a pheasant Gabriel had found and shot.  The sun had disappeared from view behind the tall, forest trees, lighting the sky in varying hues of orange.

Walter dismounted his horse and approached the fire.

“Any luck?”  Gabriel asked.  Walter nodded.

“As far as I can tell, we’ll be lucky if we don’t wake up with deer all around us,” Walter said. “There are deer everywhere.  I saw two herds just coming back here.”

“That’s good,” Isaac commented. “After bringing that wagon down here, I’m not sure if I would be up to a long hunt.”  Gabriel snorted at that, though Walter did nod at his words.

“I agree… and I’m an old man,” he said.  Walter glanced at the fire.  With a drawn out groan, he sat down on a block of wood.

“Someone get me a portion of that pheasant… so long as you had the foresight to leave a wing for me,” Walter remarked.

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“You lied to me!”  These words rang out, bouncing off the walls of an empty cabin.  Two men shrank back, their eyes full of horror.

“No!  No!  I assure you this is his home!” one of them cried.  The dark cloaked figure before him snarled and pointed around the cabin.  The floor was thick with dust and a raccoon’s nest sat in the corner.

“You lied to me!”  The men cowered back.

“Please, please, I thought—”  The man’s pleading words were cut off as the cloaked man snapped his fingers.  The fourth man in the room lifted his bow and released an arrow, killing the man almost immediately.  He toppled backward and through a broken window.

The bowman drew back another arrow to repeat the process, but the other remaining man shouted, “Wait!  I know where he lives!”  The cloaked man lifted his hand, staying the arrow that was about to fly.

“Why should I believe you?  You have failed me before,” he said.

“Please!  I’ll do it for free!  You needn’t pay me for it!  There is another place I had thought of!”  The cloaked man was silent for a moment.

“Very well,” he said at length. “I will give you a second chance.  You know the price if you fail.”

  act

Chapter IV

The next day they began their hunt.  Shortly after they started, they chanced on a group of deer and a new problem arose.  How many deer to kill and when to kill them.

“I say we get three deer and get one every three days,” Gabriel recommended as the four of them crouched a hundred yards from the deer.

“You forget that the family continues to grow,” Walter said with a somewhat pained voice.  Kestrel spoke up.

“I say four deer and we get one a week,” she said eagerly.  All three men looked at her.

“No,” they said in unison.

“Personally, I think that five deer in four days would be desirable,” Walter commented absently.  Gabriel laughed.

“Only for an old codger like you who can’t stand a day away from a soft bed,” he replied.  Walter frowned.

“I think five deer killing one every two or three days would be best,” Isaac said.  Walter glared slightly at him.

“Make that every one or two days,” he growled.

They finally agreed that Isaac’s proposal was best and set about on the hunt.  Over the course of the next twelve days they shot four deer.  The first one Walter shot.  The second, Isaac killed.  The third was Walter’s also.  The fourth, Walter (quite possibly, intentionally) merely wounded and Kestrel killed the immobile animal.  Walter decided the effort was not wasted: Kestrel pranced around with shining eyes the rest of the day.

Walter followed a very strict, ritualistic process for taking care of the venison.  Once they had separated what flesh from the deer they would use, he would spend a few hours seasoning it with the most calculated precision.  He used a wide range of herbs and spices for the job, kneading the mixture into the venison before applying more and repeating the process.  The results were delicious.

After Walter had finished the lengthy process of seasoning, they cut the meat into foot long strips – two inches wide and one inch thick.  These were fried in a number of pans over coals then left above the coals to dry.  What scraps of venison weren’t used were tossed in a pot for stew.

Once the venison was taken care of, they went to work on the hides: removing them from the carcasses, curing them and taking the necessary measures to make them usable.

When they were completely finished with each deer, Barley and Camron were allowed to do what they would with what was left.

The day they finished with the fourth deer, they again sat around a fire as darkness began to shroud the sky.  A pot of stew bubbled over a bed of coals.

Walter stirred the stew, smelling and tasting it on occasion; Isaac sat on the ground, absently carving chunks out of small block of wood and tossing them into the coals; Gabriel fiddled around with Walter’s mandolin, and Kestrel rocked back and forth where she sat, hugging her legs.  The two dogs lay on their bellies around the fire.

“Well,” Walter said after a while, “we’ve done well.  The last deer we’ll not have to dry.  We’ll leave it be so that we can have venison steaks when we get back home.”

Silence followed for the next few minutes, interrupted only by the crackling fire and creaks of swaying branches above them.

Isaac glanced at Kestrel, his gaze drawn by the sound of scraping bark.  As she sat on her block of wood, Kestrel fidgeted and squirmed.  She bit her lower lip, and kept glancing up at Walter.  When she noticed Isaac watching she, pointedly stopped moving, but a strange expression remained on her face.

Before Isaac could ask what was bothering her, Kestrel looked up at Walter again and opened her mouth to speak.

“Father…” Kestrel said timidly.  Walter gravely looked up from the stew, his face stony.  Kestrel hesitated a moment as she saw his reaction.

“What?” she asked slowly.  Walter sighed.

“I have raised and known you for fourteen years, Kestrel,” Walter told her.  “I know that voice precedes a difficult conversation.”  Kestrel hesitated again.

“I’m… sixteen,” she reminded Walter.  Walter huffed.

“Sixteen years then.”  The old man waved his hand for her to continue.  Kestrel bit her lip again and shifted on her seat.

“I would like… to see the town – Glaidael,” she admitted quietly.  As soon as she had finished this, she ducked her head, her cheeks blossoming red.

Walter gazed at his daughter sadly.  He remained silent.  After a moment, Isaac realized he wasn’t really seeing any of them.

A moment later, Walter shook his head and swept his eyes over all of them.  Gabriel’s face remained impassive; Kestrel’s head was still ducked.

“Kestrel,” Walter said gently, “it would not be good to go there.” Kestrel looked up again.

“Why not?” she asked.  Walter gave the pot another stir then let go of the ladle.  He clasped his hands in his lap.

“What happened there was tragic and terrible.  It could be dangerous to return,” he explained. “I have my own reasons, too.  I would like to remember Glaidael as it was, not as it is.  Seeing it could bring back horrible memories.”  Walter shuddered. “It would not be wise to return.”  He returned to stirring the pot vigorously.

“Please, Father,” Kestrel said. “Take us there.”

Walter ignored her.  “The stew is ready,” he said after a long while.

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The next morning, as they prepared for their final hunt (much to Kestrel’s displeasure), Walter turned to them.

“Argh.  This goes against my better judgment,” he growled. “Get the horses.  I’m going to take you to Glaidael this once.

“It is important that you know the history of your world,” he said seriously.

Kestrel could hardly contain her excitement.  She scrambled like a squirrel to get one of the horses ready, tripping and falling every other step in her haste.  She was not alone though.  Isaac could feel the anticipation in his gut and could see it in Gabriel’s eyes.

Walter on the other hand was irritable and subdued.  Strangely enough, he was not the only one.  The dogs moped as well.  Camron whined constantly to Walter, an activity that was normally Barley’s forte, while Barley slinked about with his tail between his legs.

 act

The trip there was long.  The valley, stretching so far, took a good while to cross.  As they went, the sky became cloudy and grey.  The sun was blotted out and the air became colder.

After some time, Isaac noticed changes in the forest.  The trees and bushes became thicker and taller.  The sky disappeared behind gnarled, reaching branches.  The sounds of singing birds ceased gradually until the only sounds were those of the creaking trees and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Isaac’s excitement began to fade and was replaced by foreboding.  He glanced through the trees nervously.  His anxiety increased as he saw Walter stringing his bow.

Eventually, the trees began to thin.  They suddenly were following an overgrown road.  And up ahead, a ghostly town came into view.

Walter led them forward among the old buildings.  Isaac had never seen such a sorry place.  Glaidael must have once been a thriving village, but now every building and street was abandoned.

Some houses were half burned to the ground, their walls open to the elements.  Other buildings were missing doors or windows.  Shattered glass littered the streets.  Nothing moved – there weren’t even any wild animals come to inhabit the remaining homes.  The only creature that Isaac could see was a royal crow sitting in the uppermost branches of a tall, dead tree.

Isaac was startled when Walter suddenly dismounted and walked up to one of the buildings.  It was wide and relatively low to the ground for a building with two levels.  A bear’s head was carved on the eaves over the wide double door frame.  Under the bear, a board hung down lopsidedly, one of the chains that had once supported it now broken.  The door frame was missing one door and the other was ripped half off its hinges.

“Father, what are you doing?” Gabriel asked urgently as Walter walked to the door frame and ran his hand down its side.

Walter didn’t answer immediately.  “This was the Black Bear Tavern,” Walter said. “I used to come here to stay the night whenever I was away from my cabin.”  Walter backed up and rapped the board that hung down from the low eaves.  A veneer of dust drifted off of it, and the ornate lettering of the words “Black Bear Tavern” could just be made out on it.

Walter pushed the remaining door open.  Inside the tavern, cobwebs covered everything.  The covered every corner and every one of the tables, chairs and benches that sat inside the room.  Some of the furniture was broken to pieces.  Others were overturned, and others were missing legs here and there.

“It was a surprisingly respectable establishment,” Walter mused. “It has such character, such bite.  Such a symbol of man’s vitality.”

Turning back, Walter mounted his horse again.

“Let’s move on,” he said.

They continued through the streets, going past ruined house to ruined house.  Presently, they reached the east edge of town and a large building that was shaped in a “U”.  The building was rather narrow and low.  It was surrounded by an old iron fence that bore a sign at its gate: “Glaidael Ward”.

Walter gazed at it sadly.  “This was the place where the orphaned children were housed,” he said.  He pointed down the road a little way off to a large, two story house.  “Warden Clark lived there,” he said.

Isaac noticed a tall tower at the north side of Glaidael.  He gazed at it a moment but couldn’t discern what it was.

Walter lead the way again as they moved away from the ward.  He turned back into the center of town.  Presently, he stopped in front of a particularly battered down house.  A wry smile crept onto his lips.

“I do believe your mother lived here,” he said with a chuckle.  He looked back as all three of his children perked up at these words.

“I didn’t pay much attention to her then,” Walter remembered. “It wasn’t until after Glaidael was abandoned that I took note to her.  Her parents were very displeased when we started courting.  They were expecting her to find a rich gentleman to marry… or at least a young one.”

Smiling, Walter led them forward again.  He seemed to be making his way toward the belfry tower Isaac had noticed.

Sure enough, the road they followed opened up into a wide courtyard.

The belfry tower sat atop a large mansion.  The mansion was two, generous stories tall.  Most of its windows were broken.  A once fine stone stair rose to two large double doors at the front of the building.  Both stood ajar.  A large balcony jutted out over the doors, giving what would have been a grand view.

To top all of this off, a spire rose from the top of the tower, at the end of which, a torn, faded flag hung feebly.

They all remained in silence for a time, looking over the ruined building.

After a long while passed, Walter spoke again: “This was Sir Aldrich’s mansion.  It was, as you can see, a very fine house for this area.  There was a ballroom of sorts inside, although I don’t believe it was ever used for its intended purpose.”

“Do you suppose it’s safe to go in?” Gabriel questioned, transferring his gaze to his father.  Walter shrugged.

“I imagine it would be fine,” he stated. “The roof isn’t bound to collapse on us if that’s what you mean.”  Walter looked at the building a moment more, then dismounted.

“Come on then.”

The four of them opened the doors and looked inward.  A short hall greeted them, at the end of which stood another pair of doors similar to the ones beside them.  One of these doors, however, had been ripped off the wall and lay on the floor.

Walter walked purposefully forward with the surety of a man who knew where he was and where he was going.  He led them to the doors facing them and looked inside.

Isaac stepped around him and noted that if a ballroom it was, it was nothing like he would have expected it to be, despite the damage it had sustained since it had been abandoned.

“This is the ballroom,” Walter explained, “but Sir Aldrich never used it as such.  This was his courtroom.”  Isaac glanced inside the room again.  Against the far left wall, many chairs lay strewn about in various degrees of destruction.

“But – Father… – what could have caused such damage in such a manner?” Isaac asked, gesturing to the long gouges in the floor and on the doors and walls.  Walter’s face turned stony and he did not answer.

Isaac’s eyes wandered away from the ballroom down the right side hallway.  The walls were lined with faded portraits, all of them shredded to some degree.  Isaac walked to the nearest one and pushed the folded cloth back to its original place.

The portrait bore a tall, strong man.  He was light-haired, light-skinned, and light-eyed, both noble and rough.   He was dressed in clothes Isaac could only think of as stern.  He wore a cape that draped over one shoulder down to the top of his boots.  His dress was not elaborate, but it amplified the feeling of authority that the man imposed.

Isaac dropped the folds and lowered his gaze to the base of the portrait and to a plaque that read:

Sir Allen Aldrich
Mayor of Glaidael

Isaac noticed that Walter had joined him.

“It has been a long time since I’ve looked upon that face,” he said.  He glanced right to the next portrait. “…or that one,” he added.  Isaac looked to the next portrait.  This plaque read: Laurence Clark – Glaidael Warden.

Warden Clark was a tall, narrow man with a nervous face.  He was dressed in a manner similar to that of the mayor, Sir Aldrich, but his were not so imposing.  On the whole he seemed rather unimpressive.

Walter continued walking slowly up and down the halls, looking up at the ruined portraits.  Gabriel walked into the courtroom, taking in everything; Kestrel was pushing open a door on the left side of the hall.

Isaac glanced down the right side of the hall again and noticed a battered stair that would have once been grand.  Isaac approached it, brushing dust off the banister.  As the dust fell away, a rich wood was revealed.

Brushing his hand against the walls, Isaac ascended the stairway.  At the top another hallway almost mirroring the one below came into view.  He glanced around.  A few old ropes lay scattered on the floor, each stretching through the halls and into different rooms.  The sight reminded Isaac of snakes.

As Isaac surveyed the hall, a large raccoon scurried away from him into the shadows on the other side of the corridor.

Warily, Isaac walked down the hall.  There were doors on all sides, some cracked open, some ripped off their hinges, and some closed.  The hall split halfway down.  At the end of the secondary hall, Isaac could see the buildings of Glaidael past the balcony he had seen outside.

As Isaac stepped forward again, a door creaked behind him.  Isaac whirled around, hand squabbling for his knife.  The offending door stood half open.  Isaac then saw the cause of the disturbance.  His foot had pushed one of the ropes that lay on the floor.  The rope hooked around the door and the motion had caused it to pull closed a small amount.

Isaac walked through the door and gazed around.  It appeared to be a large bedroom.  Most everything in it was destroyed as was the rest of the building.  A stuffed armchair lay in ragged pieces across the room.  Smashed wine-bottles covered the floor.  A broken glass lay in a puddle of water in a corner.  A large wardrobe stood against a wall, one of the doors cracked in half, and Isaac could see a moth-eaten coat through its deep shadow.

Isaac looked at the large bed that lay at the far side of the room and froze.  Unlike everything else in the room, the bed was mostly untouched.  The dusty blankets were turned back neatly.

At that point Isaac began to notice other strange parts of the room.  There were footprints in the thick dust on the floor that were not his own.  There was a fresh apple, half-eaten, behind a ruined chair that was barely beginning to brown.  The puddle of water in the corner had to have been recent or it would have dried up long ago.

And he had a haunting feeling as though he was being watched.

Disconcerted, Isaac backed out of the room.  He turned and trotted back to the stairs at a brisk pace.  He glanced behind him and hurried down the steps.

When he reached the bottom stair he went immediately to Walter.

“Someone has been here,” Isaac whispered to him urgently. “There were signs of it everywhere up there.”  Walter nodded.

“I’ve noticed the same thing,” he admitted. “Look.”  He pointed to a mirror next to the portrait he had been examining.  There was dust all over it… except for a circle in the center where the dust had very obviously been brushed away.

At that moment Gabriel strode over from out of the courtroom.

“Father, someone has been here recently.  There’s a servants entrance at the back of the courtroom – behind – ”  Walter cut him off.

“Yes, I know it’s behind the judge’s seat,” Walter said.  Gabriel faltered a moment.

“Yes – well anyway, there are muddy footprints all over the floor in there.  The mud is still wet!” Gabriel informed them.

“We were noticing the same thing,” Walter said.  His voice was suddenly cut off by a crash down the hall.  All of them turned to the source as Kestrel burst out of one of the doors and rushed toward them.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked.  Kestrel slowed as she approached and stopped in between the three of them.  She shuffled her feet, her face turning red.

“The place is starting to scare me,” she mumbled.  Gabriel and Isaac smiled slightly.  Walter nodded.

“Perhaps it would be best to go now,” he mused.

“Who would be here?” Gabriel asked.  Walter interrupted him quickly.

“It is best not to ask that question.”

 

Three days later, they crested a hill and looked down on their home.  In the late evening sun, the log walls shone gold and long shadows swept the ground.

Isaac and Gabriel grinned at each other as they looked on the cabin.  Walter had given the reins of the wagon to Kestrel and he sat off to the side playing a merry tune on his mandolin and singing heartily:

…And we live by work and sweat,
To eat our daily bread,
Be it in the wood or in the field,
We’ll work on ’til we’re dead.

By the sun and moon we’ll labor,
By cloudy night we’ll rest,
But a-working days and working nights,
Is the living we do best.

So we’ve carried on since morning,
There’s plenty of wheat to sow,
But a greater joy then coming home,
Is one I’ll never know!

As the group rode up to the cabin, the children ran out and danced around them, shouting and laughing with excitement and at Walter who continued the song.  Elizabeth came out as well, laughing and clapping her hands to the beat of Walter’s song.  Behind her came Ruth, also overjoyed, and she ran to Gabriel.  Gabriel dismounted with a flourish and twirled her around him before kissing her lovingly.  Kassie and Nelson joined the group as the smaller children dragged Kestrel from the wagon and ran circles around her.  Walter ended his song and smiled down at his wife.  He climbed down out of the wagon and kissed her forehead before lacing his fingers with hers and leading the way back to the cabin, the broadest of smiles on his face.

That night as Isaac lay in bed, the words ran through his mind over and over:

So we’ve carried on since morning,
There’s plenty of wheat to sow,
But a greater joy then coming home,
Is one I’ll never know!

act

Chapter V

The months passed on without much change, and whatever change did occur, occurred in the growing children and the weather.  Summer came and went, fall came and the menfolk spent extra time gathering wood.

Winter came.  Snow fell in droves.  The Siliads spent their time pitching hay, sweep snow from the roofs of the barn and cabin, sitting in front of the fire, and hurling snowballs.  Gilead winters were always somber.  The sky was always clouded.  Snow always fell.

Isaac and Walter stood in the hay loft, dumping hay down for the cows and sheep.  Walter paused and looked out at the expansive fields of snow.

“Look there!” he said, pointing to the tree line.  Isaac moved over and looked out.  He saw six shapes moving slowly just inside the cover of the trees.

“Wolves,” Walter grumbled. “Beasts!”  As they watched the wolves ventured out into the field.  The lead animal looked back at them.

“They know who I am,” Walter growled. “They don’t like me, but they’re scared of me.  They won’t bother us.”  Walter stared at the wolf.  It turned and lead its fellows away.

“Still,” Walter added, “it would be wise to leave the barn locked tight tonight.”

Spring came again, bringing new life.  Kassie gave birth to another son, making for Walter’s seventh grandchild.  This fact was one he was proud of.

The next summer came on, and the next fall.

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Three men approached the six cabins at a slow pace.  All bore the outward appearance of woodsmen, but one could see the folds of a black cloak under the bags of one horse.  The road up to the cabins was little more than a furrow in the grass.  But they followed it upward to these lonely buildings. They could see men working and small children playing.

A short distance away from the cabins, the group stopped.  An aged farmer approached them, his ax in hand.

“Good mornin’,” he hollered. “What brings you up so far into nowhere?”

“Could I ask,” the man on a black horse asked, “Where the next residences are past here?”  The farmer stroked his beard.

“Well you won’t find anymore towns in this direction ’til you cross those mountains you see in the north there.  But I wouldn’t be goin’ that way if I was you.  This is about as far into Gilead as you want to come.  You’re in Gilead now if you didn’t know,” the farmer warned.

“That doesn’t worry me greatly,” the newcomer said. “But there aren’t any houses or cabins at all past here?” he pressed.  The farmer scratched his ear uncertainly.

“Well it’s not so much like that.  There is one more cabin about nine or so miles north o’ here.  But past that the only buildings you’ll find are ruins,” the farmer said.

“What about animals? Any trouble with wild animals up here?” the stranger continued.

“Well, none bother us here: too many people I guess, but they are out there, somewhere,” the farmer said.

“I see.  Well thank you for your time.  I suppose we’ll continue on our way. Good day,” the man said.  He whipped the reins and the three of them began to ride off.

“I wish ya luck!  You’re gonna need it where you’re goin’!” the farmer called after them.

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That year had been colder than the last and Walter, worried that they might not have enough wood for the coming winter, decreed that they would start earlier than normal to get their winter’s supply.  Shortly after they were in the forest gathering logs.

Isaac again was splitting wood, but at least he had Gabriel and Nelson helping him out.  For the past several days, all four men had been in the woods hauling out logs, and Walter had decided that it needed some splitting.  He had gone out into the trees, with Camron following behind, to cut logs, while the others split the wood already gathered.  Isaac suspected that the old man enjoyed the time alone, out in the forest with only a dog.  He sometimes wanted to get away from the ruckus of young children growing himself.

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In the trees, Walter dismounted his horse and untied the ax from the saddle.  He enjoyed this time alone.  It reminded him of his younger days when he roamed the forests with only Camron as a companion. He had felt free, then, and useful.  He missed his old life sometimes, his old friends, and his old adventures.  His life was very uneventful in the face of his youth.

But he loved his new life as well: his pretty wife, his own children, and his own grandchildren.  That was one thing that he had missed in his young life, even if he didn’t realize it himself.  His youth had been a life without love.  Now he had that: family that loved him instead of just a dog to fill the position.  It was a very novel feeling for him.

Shaking his head he realized that he had acquired another thing with the passing of his former life: a tendency to let his mind wander and the harboring of sentimental feelings.

He untied another thing from the saddle: his bow.  The feeling of freedom would be incomplete without it.  With everything in hand, he went to felling trees.

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Somewhere below his perch on the hill, a dark cloaked man heard the blows of an ax.  He crept down slowly to investigate, his crossbow loaded.  He relished the feeling of power.

Pushing his way into a bush he peered downward.

An old man was there splitting a tree.  Could this be the man?  A large brown dog sniffed some shrubs a short distance from the man.  Maybe.  The cloaked man spied a bow strapped to the old man’s back.  Yes, this is the one.  Then a feeling of disappointment coursed through him. With the bow, things would not be so one sided.  The dog would be no problem if it hadn’t noticed him yet.  ‘Best to act now before anything skews the situation,’ he thought.

The cloaked man raised the crossbow to a ready position and took his aim. He scorned himself for the previous indecision.  This was a very one sided situation.  The old man didn’t suspect a thing.

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Walter took another swing at the tree.  Years of this type of activity had honed his skill.  Already, the tree was almost down.  Yet something wasn’t quite right.  He straightened, listening.  A few rustling leaves. Odd.  There was no breeze.  More rustling.

He whipped around, bow in hand, and let an arrow fly.  It sailed out of sight into a bush.  He turned and fled the other direction.

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The skew arrived as the wretched old man turned and fired an arrow directly at his cloaked watcher.  He started in fear, rolling to the side; the arrow sailed past.  The old man was unwilling to kill him.  That was why the assassin could succeed over people like this old man.  They did not have the courage to kill.  He had no misgivings.

The dog howled and barreled through the brush towards the cloaked man. It did not get far before an arrow intercepted the animal and sent it crashing into the ground.

The cloaked assassin took aim again on the retreating man.  He was ready. He pulled the trigger on the crossbow.

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Walter after running for a short distance suddenly crouched down.  A needle sharp bolt shrieked over his head and pierced a tree.  Cold sweat dripping on his face, he continued running.

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It had been irritating enough when the old fool had ducked, spoiling the shot, but now that he had to chase the man, that angered the hunter greatly.

He saw a horse up ahead, but knew his target wouldn’t go for it.  He would continue on foot.  Sure enough, the cloaked man caught sight of him again, running past the horse.  But the man knew he had nowhere to go.

The old man was strong, but his hunter was younger and faster.  It was only a matter of time before he caught sight of the man again.  He lifted the crossbow, aimed, and pulled the trigger.  He knew the shot was good.  He was too skilled to miss.

Down the man went with a yell.  The assassin turned and retreated into the thicker trees, his task completed.

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No words were said when they buried Walter.  They all knew what could have been said.  They also knew that Walter wouldn’t have wanted any words spoken just for him.  Tears were shed by all.  The two dogs howled their feelings of the loss.  The rock of the family was gone.  The manner of his death was a terrible one.  Despair stood over all of them coupled with a daze of confusion.  None of them could think what to do with themselves.

One night, a week later, as Isaac mourned his father in his bed, he realized that the assassin would be escaping freely.  Knowing his father, Isaac knew that his father would have never approved of that.  Walter was a man who would hunt down foxes that would steal chickens in the night.  Once he was gone for three days chasing one such fox.  Surely he would chase down a killer and bring him to justice.

But Isaac knew that his father couldn’t go after this man.  Would he have wanted his sons to, though?

Isaac struggled with this thought for hours.  The man should be punished.  But it wouldn’t happen unless he or his brother did it.  Would it be better to go?  His father’s honor was at stake.

Isaac made up his mind.  He could not stay now.  He needed to go.

Getting out of bed, he dressed; he found a bag; he filled it with items he would need.  He crept down the stairs and slowly opened the door of his parents’ room.

Elizabeth lay on the bed, asleep.  Isaac could see tears on her face. Another moment of indecision arose.  Could he leave his mother, who would be needing him at this time?

He walked to the bed and opened Walter’s metal chest. Inside where his father’s unusual items.  He decided to take them with him.  He may eventually find some use for the map, the bow he could use to hunt and the medal and cape could remind him of his task.

After packing these items, he went to the kitchen and stored away a quantity of dried foods and items that he could take with him.

As he was about to leave, he heard the steps creaking.  He turned and confronted Gabriel.

“What are you doing?” his brother asked, surprised.  Isaac looked at the floor.

“I’m leaving.  I’m going to follow that man,” he said.  Gabriel looked even more surprised than before.

“Isaac!  Leaving?  But you can’t leave now, we will need you here!  Especially now!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“I know, but I thought about all of it.  Can you stand the thought of Father’s killer running free?  Think of Father’s honor.  He would never allow that,” Isaac said.

“You can’t just leave, though!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Father’s honor, Gabriel!”

“But to just leave!” Gabriel said, sinking into a chair. “What will we do without you?”

“You’ll be fine,” Isaac said. “But… but do think of Father’s honor. He would never allow someone like that to get away.  He would want someone to go after him.”

Gabriel looked at Isaac thoughtfully. “Do you want to kill the man?” The question caught Isaac off guard.

“No!  Not that I think his execution would be an injustice, but I don’t want to do it,” he replied.  Gabriel nodded.

“Good,” Gabriel said.  He stood again.

“Must you leave now?” he asked.  Isaac nodded solemnly.

“The murderer will only get farther away the longer I wait and it will only be harder to leave in the morning,” Isaac sighed.  Gabriel nodded.  After a moment, he stepped forward and embraced Isaac.

“Good luck, brother,” he whispered.  He stepped back, clapped his brother on the shoulder and turned away.  Isaac felt his eyes misting and swallowed the choke in his throat.

After Gabriel went back up the stairs, Isaac entered the coat room.  Camron lay asleep on the floor, wrapped up in cloth over the arrow wound he had received.  Isaac would have taken the dog along if he hadn’t been injured.

Leaving the house and walking to the barn, Isaac collected his thoughts.  First he would go to the Jemry farm and see if they had had any suspicious characters come through.  He would have to work his way from there.  He scowled.  Some plan that was.

As he opened the barn door, he heard a whine behind him.  Isaac turned and found the white dog, Barley, standing on the grass, his head turned to one side.  The dog whined again.

Isaac considered bringing along the dog.  Barley wouldn’t have been his first choice: the dog was cowardly, a bit lazy, and lacking in useful skills.  But the dog was a smart one, a dog of character, and a friendly one.  Barley could at least be a companion to him.

Isaac consented and decided that he would bring the dog along.  Isaac knelt in the grass in front of the dog.  “Barley, you and me are going away for a while.  We have someone we need to catch.  I’m going to need you to be useful, alright?”  Expecting no answer and turned back to the barn.  After he had opened the door and walked in, he looked back.  Barley plodded along behind him.  Isaac smiled.

He saddled up Walter’s favorite horse, the grey one.  The horse wasn’t an especially big one, and Isaac had no idea where its name, Mountain, had come from.  But Walter had always shown good judgment, so Isaac took the horse.

Shortly later he was trotting away to the south.

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Chapter VI

When Isaac caught first sight of the Jemry farm, he was surprised at the number of homes.  Six!  All in one place!  The last time he had been there, there had been only two and that had been a surprise enough.

The Jemry menfolk were already in their fields harvesting the last of their grain, hay, corn, and other crops.

Isaac rode between their fields and approached the cabins, Barley sniffing at everything.  The men nodded to him as he went past but didn’t stop their work.  Isaac was alright with that.  He didn’t feel ready for light conversation.

As he rounded the corner of one house, Isaac found the man he was looking for.  Old Man Jemry, older than Walter had been.  He had started his family on his fields twenty years before Walter had.  Old Man Jemry was a humorous and likable fellow.

Then Isaac noticed that Old Man Jemry was already speaking with someone.  He was a younger man, wearing heavy boots and a blue, hooded cape, exactly the same as the one Isaac had taken from Walter’s chest, even down to the tatters.  Isaac continued forward slowly.

As he came closer, Isaac found that the stranger was not much older than himself.  He seemed to be asking directions, for Isaac heard these words:

“…want to know the whereabouts of a Walter Siliad. If he is anywhere around here, I’m sure you would know him,” the stranger was saying.  Isaac noted that the young man had a moderately strange accent.

“Well, there is a Walter Siliad living ’round ten miles north of here,” Old Man Jemry said. “I haven’t seen him for two years, though.” The stranger nodded.

“Do you think one of your boys could show me the way up?” the stranger asked. Old Man Jemry scratched his head.

“I don’t know about that.  I’ve got them busy on the harvesting.  But it is hard to miss. He built the biggest darned cabin you ever saw, that Walter,” the old man replied with a chuckle.

The stranger smiled and said, “I should have guessed.  Thank you for speaking with me.  I’ll be on my way and not bother you more.”  Isaac reined Mountain to a stop next to Old Man Jemry as the stranger walked away.

The old man looked up.

“Why, Gabriel!” the old man exclaimed.

“Isaac.”

“Whatever.  I imagine you’ll end up marrying one of my girls, too, so why bother between the two of you?”  The old man turned and yelled after the stranger.

“Hold up there, young man!  This here lad is a son of old Siliad.  He might be able to show you the way.”  The stranger came back and looked Isaac over.

“So you are Walter’s son, eh?  Good to meet you.”  The young man held out his hand.  Isaac shook it.

“Isaac,” Isaac said.

“Wallace,” the stranger replied.

“What brings you this way, Gab—Isaac?” Old Man Jemry asked.  Isaac collected his thoughts while dismounting the horse.

“I was wondering if anyone has come past recently… other than Wallace here,” Isaac said.  The old man nodded.

“Yes, three men did, saying they were making for the other side o’ Gilead the long way, which is to say straight through it.  Guess they came to their senses, though, because they came back down the next day.  Ha!” the old man recalled.  The he frowned, thinking.  “Well two of them did anyway… that all?  Not going to court one of my daughters?  Helen is about your age and pretty as a willow, too.”

Isaac’s face reddened.  “No,” he said, stammering a bit, “not now at least.  That was all.”  The old man shrugged.

“Huh! Long trip just to ask if I got visitors.  Well if you two younguns are done with me, I’m going to go out to work!  So long, Gabriel.”  He tipped his battered hat and walked away whistling.

“Interesting gentleman,” Wallace noted. “Are you headed back now?” Isaac shook his head.

“No, not directly.  I’m wondering though, how do you know my father?” Isaac asked.  Wallace rubbed his chin.

“Walk with me and I’ll explain,” he said. “Might as well mount up; my horse is tied down here.”  He pointed off toward the road at the treeline.

Isaac followed Wallace as he entered the trees and untied a dusty red horse and mounted it.

“I actually don’t know Walter Siliad at all,” Wallace said nudging his horse forward. “But I have come across from the Hanidier Empire to locate him.”

“Hanidier Empire!” Isaac exclaimed. “Then how did you know who Walter is at all then?”  Wallace pressed his lips together.

“I’m not the right person for you to be asking questions to.  I am just supposed to find his whereabouts.”

“For what reason?”

“I don’t know.”

“You came all this way on a hunch?”

“Me?  No.  I came because I was told to.”

“By whom?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.  I just need to know where I can find Walter Siliad,” Wallace said.  Isaac looked down at the grassy forest floor.

“Walter is dead,” he said quietly.  Wallace looked up, surprised.

“What got him?”

“He was murdered.” Wallace stopped his horse cold.  Isaac jumped and reined in Mountain.  Barley whined and sat down in the dirt.

“Oh!” he whispered. “Well that complicates things.”  He sat quietly, thinking and drumming his fingers on the saddle.

“Who exactly are you?” Isaac inquired.  Wallace didn’t answer immediately.

“My name is Wallace,” he said nudging his horse forward again, forcing Isaac to follow. “I am from Pathia.  I travel with a few others from place to place.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be one of those three men that came up and… killed my father would you?” questioned Isaac with a slight glare.  Wallace straightened.

“About those men; did you happen to catch sight of any of them?” Wallace asked suddenly.

“No.  But we did find this in a bush.” Isaac removed from his bags a small scrap of heavy, black cloth.  Wallace took it and examined it closely.

“Was Walter possibly hit by a needle-like metal crossbow bolt?” Wallace asked.  Isaac looked closely are Wallace before answering.

“Yes, but how do you know?” Isaac questioned suspiciously.  Wallace waved off the question.

“I don’t have anything to do with the killer, Isaac,” he assured.  Isaac looked away, thinking.  It was then he noticed that the two of them were no longer on the road; they were making their way through the forest now.  Isaac pulled Mountain to a stop.

“Just a minute! Where are we going?” he demanded.  Wallace looked back, puzzled.

“We are almost there.  Come on!” Wallace said.

“Almost where?” Isaac asked.  Wallace huffed impatiently.

“Come on!  It’s just around that rock and through those bushes,” he said.  Wallace urged his horse forward again.  Isaac followed warily.

It was very obvious when they were “there”.  “There” was a large camp. Isaac counted seven heavy tents, two rather large in size.  A small fire flickered in a pit in the ground.  Two dogs, both of different breeds, wrestled at the edge of camp, but jumped to alertness as Isaac entered camp.  They stared at Isaac with their large eyes.  Barley growled.  Isaac glanced down.  The white dog’s tail was tucked between his legs.

Isaac saw only one person as he entered this camp: another young man, leaning back against a post from his seat on a stump.  He was dressed it the same manner.  Of his other features, Isaac could not see; the man’s back was to him.

“Budge up, William,” Wallace called as he dismounted his horse.  The man jumped and hastily got to his feet.  Surprised, Isaac noticed that William appeared to be identical to Wallace.

Noting Isaac’s surprise, Wallace explained, “He’s my twin, yes.  Not identical though.  I have a scar from falling out of a tree as a child.  You never see it, though, because it’s on my hip.  Landed rather hard on it as I recall.  Actually, it’s as others recall.  I don’t remember hitting the ground.”  Wallace removed the halter and saddle from his horse and allowed the horse to wander away.

William studied Isaac critically.  “Who is this?” he questioned.

“Isaac, meet William,” Wallace said. “And William, I would introduce you to Isaac Siliad.”  William raised an eyebrow.

“Siliad, eh?” he said.  Isaac dismounted Mountain slowly, still a bit wary.

“Who – exactly – are you and what – exactly – is this place?” Isaac asked them.  William and Wallace frowned in unison.

“Afraid we aren’t at the liberty to tell you,” Wallace said.

William added, “We are the—ah… junior members of this camp.”

“But,” William and Wallace said together, “this place is a camp.  We can tell you that much.”

“I can see that much,” Isaac grumbled to himself.  Then another thought came to his mind. “Wait a moment.  How many of you are there?”

“Twelve and three under age eighteen,” Wallace replied.

“Twelve?” Isaac exclaimed. “Why are you all still taking the same paths?”  William scratched his head.

“I didn’t know anyone but Wallace when this group was formed.  We were the lucky ones.  The others had no clue who anyone else was,” he said with a shrug. “But save your questions.  We can’t really answer them ourselves.”  Isaac scowled.

“Seems like a shady operation your running,” Isaac muttered.  Wallace and William laughed.

“That it is, but we certainly aren’t the ones running it,” they said in unison.

blank

Several hours later, people began to appear.  Isaac glanced up from his seat on a log next to the fire as he heard new voices approaching.  Pushing their way through the brush, bushes, and trees came three youths, two older and one about thirteen or fourteen.  All carried large bows in hand and an assortment of knives at their belts.  All three wore blue cloaks identical to the ones Wallace and William wore.

The older two, one male, the other female, stopped when they noticed Isaac.  The youngest didn’t even notice Isaac but stopped as well, looking up at his companions with an expression of mild puzzlement.

The older boy glanced around the camp taking note of the stranger, the foreign grey horse, the unfamiliar, nervous, white dog, and the absence of his superiors.  After this quick and skillful assessment he looked back at Isaac.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded quickly.  Isaac frowned.  The boy was almost as tall as Isaac was and looked just as strong.  Also the boy was armed and looked like he expected trouble.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Isaac said curtly.  The boy glared, his grip tightening on the bow.

“How did you get here?” he snapped.

“I,” replied Isaac icily, “was brought here.”

“By whom?”

“Wallace.”  The three looked uneasy.

“Then where is Wallace now?” he demanded.

“I haven’t the slightest.  He left a while ago.” Wallace and William had left, bringing with them the two dogs.  The girl whispered something into the boy’s ear.  The boy nodded.  The girl then turned to the younger boy and whispered to him.  After she finished, the boy dashed back the way the three had come.

A minute later, the young lad returned, followed by two men, also wearing blue cloaks.  Following behind them closely were two more dogs, both of different breeds.

Both men also bore bows, but not in hand; they were unstrung and in their quivers.  The older of the two, a man likely in his early or mid-forties, studied Isaac closely.

“Why are you here?” he asked.  Isaac shrugged, a bit worried and exasperated.

“I don’t know.  Your friend, Wallace, brought me here without explaining anything,” Isaac answered.  The two men exchanged a glance.

“Wallace did, did he?  Well then, seeing as Wallace is not here, we’ll just have to wait for him.  In the meantime…” The man paused. “Raymond! Mia! Fix up a meal!” The boy and girl had been attempting to sneak away, apparently anticipating the task. “…For thirteen,” he added on afterthought.  The two slinked back, glaring liberally.

The two seemed to be accomplished cooks.  In a short time, they had filled the camp with the smell of cooking rabbit and vegetables.  Both seemed none too pleased with their task however.  Angry scowls dominated their expressions.

As the smells of cooking food wafted through the forest air, more people began to appear.  Wallace and William returned, each carrying bundles of herbs, mushrooms, and other edible items.  Three more men appeared: two younger men like Wallace and William, and a quite old man, probably around mid-sixties.

As soon as the two youth felt their culinary task was complete, they disappeared into one of the larger two tents, the younger boy close behind.

 

As the men ate, they formed into two groups, one group comprised of Isaac, Wallace, and William and the other group comprised of all the other men.  The larger group was huddled close and Isaac could catch whispers among them.  He scowled.

“What’s on your mind?” Wallace asked through a mouthful of rabbit.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Isaac replied.

“You, no doubt,” William commented. “Although I would like to know the details, yes…” Isaac glanced back at the other men.

“I thought you said there were twelve of you,” Isaac said. Wallace nodded.

“There are.  Only ten are present now.  The others are… somewhere,” Wallace shrugged.

That evening, the eleventh individual appeared, but only briefly and with the hood of his cloak covering his face.  He stepped from the trees and immediately entered the second of the larger two tents.

“Who’s that?” Isaac asked from his position at the edge of the camp. William looked up from the knife he was sharpening.

“Ah.  I imagine you’ll find out soon enough,” he said.  He went back to carving. Isaac looked skyward.

“You like to be mysterious, don’t you?” he complained.  Wallace shook his head.

“We don’t like to hand out names.  It’s impolite, for one, and for us it could be dangerous,” Wallace replied.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”  Isaac rubbed his forehead.

“You are—” Isaac began angrily, before Wallace cut him off.

“Where did you get this dog,” he said as Barley shied out of a bush and plodded over to Isaac.

“My… father got him somewhere.  He never did say where.  Must have been one of his wild adventures,” Isaac sighed.

“He looks like one of our dogs,” William commented.

Isaac glanced at him. “He looks nothing like your dogs.  All of them, including Barley here, are different breeds.”

“I mean he acts like one of our dogs.  He seems smarter than normal dogs, like ours, and he is very loyal, so it seems,” William clarified.  Barley shifted nervously under the eyes of the two strangers.  He whined and stepped behind Isaac for protection.

“Other than that action, of course,” Isaac muttered, pushing the dog away with his foot.

The sky was darkening overhead.  The three younger individuals lit lanterns and placed them around the camp.  The girl glared at Isaac as she went by, aiming a kick at Barley at the same time.  The white dog growled and backed away from her.

“No need for that, Mia,” Wallace said quietly. “The dog did nothing to you.”  The girl turned her glare on him and moved away.  The three men watched her go.

The voice of one of the other men rose up: “Wallace, you’re first watch tonight.” Wallace rolled his eyes.

“Naturally,” he said. “Well then… I suppose you can take my cot tonight, Isaac.”  Wallace walked to one of the smaller tents, went inside and a few moments later emerged carrying a large bow and a quiver of arrows.

“You might as well get some sleep,” Wallace said as he returned. “I can only imagine you will have an eventful morning tomorrow.”  Isaac frowned.

“What do you mean?  I’m after the man who killed Walter Siliad.  I have wasted a day here and I’m eager to be back out there.  Why should I stay?” Isaac demanded.

“Because, maybe, we could help you,” William answered.  Isaac turned away.  In the sky, a cool breeze swayed the trees.  A few squirrels jumped from branch to branch.

“You had better be able to help me.  I’ve been here too long for nothing,” Isaac growled.

blank

Isaac woke up twice that night.  The first time, his sleep was interrupted by Barley, lying next to Isaac’s borrowed cot, growling at something outside the tent.  Isaac decided not to worry about it.  Most likely Barley was growling at one of the dogs as it passed by.

The second time Isaac awoke, he was not sure what had disturbed him.  Barley was asleep.  The only sound he heard was the wind.  Too tired to be bothered, Isaac rolled over and went back to sleep.  He did not notice that his cheeks were wet.

Chapter VII

“Wake up, Isaac. Wake up.” Isaac abruptly awoke to find Wallace shaking his shoulder.  He blinked the spots from his eyes.

“Morning already?” Isaac grumbled as he sat upright.  Wallace grinned.  Or so Isaac thought.  He wasn’t sure because it was too dark in the tent to see clearly.

“No,” Wallace replied. “Not morning yet.  There’s no sun out at least.  But you do need to get up.” Isaac stood up and groaned slightly.  The cot was harder for sleeping on than he was used to.

“Why must we get up?” Isaac asked.

“Assuming you are hungry…” Wallace said as he left the tent.  Isaac gave Barley a nudge and followed Wallace outside.

The others of the camp were already awake and eating a mixture of oats and fruit.  Seven dogs roamed throughout the camp.  Barley whined at Isaac’s foot.

The sky was only slightly lightened from the darkness of night.  A solitary lantern provided light for the camp.

Isaac only counted ten people, excluding himself.  Two of the camp were not present.  However, he didn’t bother to think about it and instead turned to the bowl of oats that Wallace offered him.

Shortly after the sun rose, Isaac met the eleventh person in the camp.

As the sun began to peek over the mountains, one of the men gave the order to take down camp.  Isaac gathered whatever things he had taken out of his saddlebag and tied them back to Mountain.  Then he waited as the tents went down.

The second of the larger two tents was the last to go down.  As the men went to take it down, the man that Isaac had seen enter it the night before emerged.

But he was not a man as Isaac had thought.  “He” was a tall woman.   She wore simply a light grey tunic and leggings under the blue-grey cloak that seemed customary in this group.  Her long blond hair had a single, narrow braid hiding in it.  She also bore a slight scowl as she approached Isaac.  Isaac suddenly and with a significant jolt, noticed that a large bobcat was prowling a few paces behind the woman.  Both the cat and the woman watched Isaac with cold expressions.

Isaac dully noticed that she was one of the few people he had to look up at to look in the eye.  But he decided that it would not be a problem because her fierce eyes repelled all wishes to be looked at.

“Why are you here?” she asked.  Isaac floundered for a moment before answering.

“Wallace brought me here,” he said defensively.

“Who are you?” she continued.

Isaac replied, “Isaac Siliad.”  The woman’s expression softened ever so slightly.

“Siliad?  You are the son of Walter Siliad then?”

“Yes,” Isaac answered.

“Could you possibly take me to his residence?” was the following question, the one that Isaac had been expecting.  Bracing himself, Isaac said,

“I don’t like to tell you this but… my father is dead.”  The effect these words had on the woman surprised Isaac greatly.  He saw in her eyes a thousand of strong and mixed emotions that seemed to temporarily render her speechless.  Isaac watched as multiple expressions flashed across her face: sadness, relief, worry, fear, guilt and then sadness again.

“How… how did he die,” she said after several moments, her voice quiet and a bit shaky.

“He was… murdered,” Isaac said, hating having to recount it so shortly after it happened. Isaac watched again as emotions crossed the woman’s face: dismay, anger, and weariness.  She turned away for a moment and took a few steps toward the trees, seemingly deep in thought.

The woman turned.  She looked back at Isaac.

“Thank you for telling this to us,” she said.  She looked to the others. “Mount up! We’re going back south!”  The group immediately climbed onto horses.  The woman went to a white horse and jumped nimbly on its back.  It was already saddled.

Isaac watched as the bobcat sprang up and landed behind her.  Mildly confused from the sight of the bobcat, he didn’t notice that the entire camp was leaving.

“Wait a moment!” he exclaimed suddenly.  He clambered onto Mountain and followed after them.  The woman stopped.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked.

“We are going back south,” the woman replied. “Our business here is at an end.”  She turned away to leave again.

“Wait!  I’m not just going to stay here and let my father’s murderer run amok!  I’m coming with you, or at least I’m going, with you or not.”  The woman glared at him.

“I suppose I should expect nothing less from Walter Siliad’s son, however I will not allow it.  You would be a liability, and furthermore, I would deter you from going on your own.  These men are more dangerous than you realize,” she replied.

“Nevertheless, I am coming with you,” Isaac said.  “And I would also like to know how you knew my father.”

“We do not have time to coddle someone unaccustomed to our ways,” the woman said. “It takes years to acquire the skills necessary to be a useful, and thus permissible, addition to our company.”

“Would you take for granted that I do not possess these skills?” Isaac said. “At the very least, give me a chance to show my abilities.”

The woman sighed.  Isaac noticed a familiar light in her eyes, past her apparent unyielding.  “Very well,” she said. “You may accompany us… for now.”  Isaac decided to accept this response for the time being.

“However,” the woman added with a steely gaze. “I will answer your questions on my own time.”  She flicked her reins and her horse set off at a trot.

Wallace and William eyed Isaac as he fell in beside them.  “It would be best not to make her mad,” they said together.

At noon, they were met by another individual wearing a blue cloak.  He was mounted on a jet black, muscular horse that stood in the middle of the road.  At the horse’s side stood a huge gold-furred mastiff that looked shockingly like Camron.  The two, man and dog, watched as the troop approached and stopped in front of them.

Isaac looked the man over.  He was a heavily build man.  His face was stern and combined with his bow, he made a frightening figure.  His gaze lingered on Isaac a moment before alternating to the woman.

“You may want to look at this, Kendel,” he said, pointing into the trees off to the side of the road.  The woman dismounted and pushed aside the brush before the trees.

The view of a dead man greeted all.  He lay twisted on his side, a long black arrow in his back.

“It appears,” the man said, “that someone has decided to get rid of their informant.”  He watched the woman, Kendel, closely.  “You know what this means.  I hope our intent was successful.”  Kendel stood slowly and turned to face him.

“I am afraid,” she said, “that this is evidence of a case too late.  Walter is dead.”  The man’s eyes opened wide.

“We are too late?”  The woman nodded; her voice wavered slightly.

“We are too late.”

“Then let us pursue them,” the man said with a snarl.  Kendel nodded.

“That is our new intent.”  She mounted up again.  “Let us continue.”

 a

As they rode, William, Wallace, and Isaac hung back as the twins filled in Isaac as to his new companions.

“Seeing as you will may be with us for a while, you might as well know who all these people are,” William said.  Wallace nodded and gestured to the man closest to them.  He was a younger man, about the same age as Isaac and the twins.

“That’s Harrison.  He comes from Dathian nation in Pathia,” Wallace said.

“He’s got an inflated head: beware,” William added. “He likes to assert his authority.”

“The next man,” Wallace said, pointing to a short little man with a wispy beard, “is Bunoby.”  Isaac looked at him, unsure whether he was joking or not.  “Yes, odd name.  He’s an old hermit from Drumdadom.  He’s a crabby man, but he usually keeps to himself.”

“Next here is Jason,” William said.  Isaac recognized the man he had encountered in camp the day before.  “He comes from Le Osliad Ro Lian.  He’s a clever fellow; you’d do well not to cross him.”

“That’s Paul.  He comes from the Hanidier Empire.  He’s pleasant enough when he wants to be.  Best to stay on his good side,” Wallace said. “He has a temper!”  Isaac looked Paul over.  He was tall and appeared to possess a certain wiry strength.

“That withered, old post,” William said with a chuckle, “is Gregor.  He’s a batty codger.  He should have retired long ago, but he secretly can’t stand the fact that he’s sixty-two.  He comes from Nianom, and he’s tried to convert us to their strange customs on numerous occasions.”

“Those three,” Wallace continued pointing to the youthful threesome near the front, “are Raymond, Caleb, and Mia.  Raymond is alright most of the time.  He’s got potential if he can cut some sass out.”

“Caleb might eventually be useful,” William added. “His problem is that he idolizes the other two.  He tries too hard and messes up a lot.  Nobody would mind if he would fix that problem.  As it is, he is regarded as hopeless.”

“What about the girl?” Isaac asked.  William and Wallace rolled their eyes.

“She’s a piece of work,” Wallace said.

“Highly arrogant—”

“—and irritable—”

“—and selfish—”

“—and frankly too skilled, beautiful, and full of herself for her own good,” Wallace finished.

“A real pity,” William added. “She’s a right pleasant lass to look at, to be sure.”

“Too bad her nice outside hasn’t rubbed off on her sour inside,” sighed Wallace. “Honestly, I’m surprised she gives Raymond an ounce of her time.”

“And what about the big man next to… Kendel,” Isaac inquired.

“Ah.  Yes,” William said tentatively.

“That’s Beorwulf,” Wallace said delicately. “He’s a bit of a walking legend.”

“He’s responsible for the demise of about thirteen telums, a mighty impressive feat if you didn’t know,” William said.

“Telums?” Isaac asked.  William nodded.

“Walter never mentioned them?  Can’t say I blame him.  Telums are the elite assassins of the Assaillane nation,” he explained. “They have a class of evil all to themselves.  Heartless beasts.”

“They are,” Wallace said carefully, “probably who we are chasing.”  Isaac stared at him in surprise.

“Telums killed my father?” Isaac cried incredulously.  William nodded grimly.

“You see, Beorwulf is one walking legend, but you father was the other,” he said.

“He ended the careers of twenty-seven telums,” Wallace said with an air of awe.

“Naturally they have a bit of a grudge against him,” William agreed. Isaac stared.

“My father did that?” he exclaimed. “But he never spoke anything of that!  Ever!  I just thought he was a roamer.”  William grinned.

“Well, he was a roamer of sorts,” he admitted.  Isaac scowled a moment thinking about it.

“And what about Kendel?” he asked eventually.  Wallace and William flinched a bit.

“I’d be a bit careful using her name casual like,” Wallace warned.

“But,” William continued, “she’s got a bit of a track record herself.  Really I don’t know that much about her, nor have I been inclined to ask.”

“She finished the last year of her training under your father,” Wallace said.  Isaac suddenly looked back a year or so, remembering Walter’s words: “Well, my apprentice’s name was Lance Crowley.  Strange, arrogant fellow, him; he always went about with a crow on his shoulder.  The young woman… well I don’t think she would like me spreading her name.”

“It was unfortunate; her original mentor, Riverton, was a dandy with a knife or dagger, so I hear.  Good with a bow, too,” William added.

“That is, I’m afraid, the extent of my knowledge of Kendel,” Wallace said. “She likes to keep a low profile, doesn’t go about telling people of her accomplishments, whatever they may be.  She’s averse to attention.”

Isaac sat quietly in the saddle, thinking about this.  “Did she know my father well?”  William shrugged sadly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that either.”

  act

Isaac was sore from a long day of riding as the sun crept lower in the sky.  He had enjoyed most of their travels that day.  He had never seen this part of Gilead, and they had progressed south a great deal.  Now when Isaac looked about, he did not see mountains everywhere, he only saw them behind him and to the sides.  It appeared that he was about to leave Gilead for the first time.

As they reached the farthest foothills of the last mountain, Kendel called a stop.  There was a large grove of trees to their right.

“We will stay here for the night,” Kendel said, pointing into the trees. “Get camp set up and be ready to take it down tomorrow.”

William and Wallace both turned their horses toward the trees.  Isaac followed them, now a bit apprehensive.

“We aren’t going to get up three hours before dawn again are we?” Isaac asked.

Wallace replied, “Who knows.”  He pushed away some branches from his face and looked through the grove.

“Hmm.  There’s a nice clearing over there… but, wait a moment.”  Isaac ducked down below the branches and followed Wallace’s gaze.  Isaac could see three tents and a bright campfire.

“It appears we have been beaten to the punch,” William noted as the rest of the group came behind them.

“What is it, Wallace,” Kendel’s voice rang out.  Wallace straightened and turned in the saddle.

“It seems someone is here already,” he explained.  Kendel frowned.

“Let’s move back before they notice us,” Kendel said quickly.  She started motioning everyone to follow her, when all nine dogs, including Barley, and Kendel’s bobcat all began growling, and with a rustling of leaves, a shape dropped out of the trees above them and landed lightly a few yards in front of Kendel’s horse.

“I’m quite afraid it is too late for that,” the newly appeared man said with gravelly voice.

Suddenly, every one of Isaac’s company, excluding Kendel, lifted their bows and aimed an arrow at the stranger.  Isaac looked at him a moment.  He was a rather small man, barely five and a half feet tall, and very slim.  His face was completely shrouded in the shadow of the wide hood of a soft brown cloak.  In one hand, he held a spear in a casual, but ready position.

No one moved but Kendel.  Slowly she dismounted and approached the stranger.  As she stopped in front of him, he did not move.  He remained equally still as Kendel threw off his hood, revealing a feline-like face.  The man smiled slightly.

“I don’t believe it,” Kendel said. “Jagral!”

“Good evening, Kendel,” the man said, bowing low. “If you don’t mind, I don’t trust your friends not to accidentally shoot me.”

“Put you bows down,” Kendel ordered.  Slowly the weapons were lowered.

“Kendel,” Beorwulf said, “do you know this person?”  Kendel turned, a slight smile on her lips.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Go on, I do believe anyone in that camp will be glad to see us.”

Isaac exchanged looks with William and Wallace, who both shrugged and started forward toward the clearing.

As the group broke into the clearing, Isaac got a better look around.  The three tents stood at the edge of the clearing and the fire burned in the middle.  Another man sat on a stump before the fire, turning as he heard horse hooves.  A look a horror and surprise leapt onto his face.

“Mighty Wilcodoth!” he cried scrambling to his feet.  One of the tents flapped open expelling yet another man.  On his face came a look of delight.

“Splendid!” he said standing.  He was a tall man, and also a broad shouldered one.  “Calm down,” he said to the other man. “No need to fear.”

Kendel came forward.  “Why, good day to you Tulgas,” she said, this time smiling in full. “And James, good evening to you as well.”  The tall man, Tulgas, grinned.

“Fancy meeting you here, Kendel,” he laughed.  The man, James, didn’t yet look at ease.

“Gave me quite a start you did,” James said sourly. “A dozen blue-cloaks jumping in unexpected like, I thought I was a dead man!”

“That could be arranged,” growled Jason darkly, eyeing the man, James, with suspicion.

“We mean none of you harm,” Kendel said.  Jason coughed slightly.

“Excuse me, Kendel, but would you mind introducing us?” he asked tersely.

“This is Sir Tulgas Giogren of the Hanidier,” Kendel said gesturing to the tall man.  A few murmurs of recognition ran through the older men.  “He is an old friend of mine and of Walter Siliad.”

She gestured to the harried man, saying, “This is James Rubin, one of Walter’s oldest and dearest friends.  I have only met him on occasion but I regard him just as dearly.”

“And this,” Kendel said, referring to the short man that now stood at Tulgas’s side, “is Jagral.  To save you potential embarrassment and pain, I will tell you now that Jagral is a rather dangerous Jagrian.”

“Is that so?” the old man, Gregor, said.  Jagral returned his gaze.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“I certainly hope not,” Gregor replied.

“Is this all of your company?” Kendel asked.  Tulgas shook his head.

“No.  The last of our group is over there,” he said.  Several heads turned.  Isaac saw a bear of a man walking through the trees carrying what appeared to be half a cord of wood.  The man paused as he approached when he saw the group before approaching cautiously.

As he came forward, he called out in a booming voice, “What goes here?”

Kendel turned to Tulgas. “Is that Bert?”  Tulgas nodded.

“By the name of Cakadish, how have you kept those two from killing each other?” she mused.  Jagral frowned distastefully.

“I’ll never know,” he said.

Bert was easily seven feet tall, possibly more, and he was almost as broad-shouldered.  He was built like a grizzly: his arms bulged with muscle.  He had a mountaineer’s look about him, in addition to looking like the mountain and the creatures living on it all in one.  He looked at each new face in turn, his gaze last turning on Kendel.  Upon seeing her, his face cleared.

“Why, how are you, my dear?” the man roared, delighted.  He stepped forward and embraced her, hardly encumbered by the horse Kendel sat on.

“I am well, old friend,” she replied.  Addressing all four of the others, she said, “We will have to talk after we have camp set up.”  After she said these words, William, Wallace, and the others dismounted.  Isaac did likewise, confused.

“Why are we dismounting now?” Isaac asked.  William snorted.

“Believe it or not, but Kendel just told us to set up camp,” he said.

  act

The sky was dark now.  The stars were visible in their brilliant arrays.  Bert had built a veritable bonfire, the wood stacked three feet high and four feet wide.  The flames soared skyward, filling the entire encampment with light.  Everyone had collected in their typical groups, and Isaac decided to step back and survey them.

Kendel sat conversing with Tulgas and Bert.  Beorwulf sat a little off to the side, listening.  Jagral leaned against a tree a yard or so off.  Of the others, Bunoby sat in front of the fire, staring intently at the flames and smoke.  Jason, Paul, and Harrison stood a short way off, discussing something or other.  Gregor sat on a stump near them, carving a block of wood with a large knife, never looking at the project, listening.  Mia and Raymond had managed to find a shadow and were shooting suspicious looks across the camp.  Caleb attempted to do likewise, but he seemed clueless as to the purpose and activity.  William and Wallace also stood watching.  Finally, James sat against a tree sharpening a large knife, looking around in a nervous manner.

There were also a large number of dogs in the clearing – ten in number.  Isaac watched them.  A beagle, red hound, and bulldog wrestled with each other at the edge of the clearing.  A border collie occasionally jumped into the fray before leaping out again.  A northern mountain dog sat on the ground near the distanced foursome, watching.  The golden mastiff and a large malamute stood facing each other, apparently trying to decide who was bigger.  A cocker spaniel and springer spaniel chased each other through camp.  Barley, the tenth dog, lay on the ground next to Isaac, warily looking over the other dogs.

Kendel’s bobcat sidled up to Jagral and rubbed against his leg, arching its back.  Jagral reached down and scratched the cat behind the ears.

Isaac stood, giving Barley a nudge, and walked over to join Wallace and William.

“What do you think of our new companions,” Wallace asked Isaac as he stopped.  Isaac rubbed his chin.

“Tulgas seems alright,” Isaac said. “He seems to be easy with people.  Same with Bert.  He seems to be boisterously friendly.  Jagral… I don’t know about him.  He seems shady.  And James… he’s probably an interesting case.”  The two men nodded.

“That he is,” William said with a slight scowl.

“I didn’t think that our company could get any larger,” Isaac remarked.

“I suppose I would have to agree with you,” Wallace replied. “Still,” he added with a shrug, “we will have our Assaillane prey vastly outnumbered when we catch them.”

“We will indeed,” William said. “That is, if we ever catch them.”  Wallace nodded unhappily.

“True.  With our increased company, the going will be slower for it.  The telum could be outpacing us by a generous margin,” he acknowledged.

“We’ll catch up,” Isaac said. “The telum doesn’t necessarily know he is being hunted, and I doubt he’ll be high-tailing it without cause.  Besides, I’m confident that Kendel and Beorwulf will do whatever it takes to catch them, even if it means leaving the rest of us behind.”

“I suppose you are right,” Wallace nodded. “That logic makes sense.  In a few days, we’ll have reached our stride and we’ll gain on them; they aren’t going to escape us.”

 act

“What brings you here?” Kendel asked.  She stood off in the trees away from the camp with Tulgas, Beorwulf, Bunoby, and Jason.  Tulgas frowned darkly.

“Great, terrible news,” he said. “I was in Königlich when I received word from one of the lords of my acquaintance that Assaillane was in motion: telums sent abroad.  A messenger from Astennen brought a message before the King, a riddle.  Jagral interpreted it, most likely correctly.  It went like this:

“In the season past, azure sky excised the brightest shadows.  In the season to come, black stone will cover the oldest offending waters.

“Jagral speculates that they referred to Scalprus victories over the telums some decades ago and insinuate to a revenge plot against the old Scalprus champions like Walter.  We are on our way to warn him of the danger and offer protection.”  Kendel’s eyes fell.

“Jagral’s deduction seems accurate,” Bunoby said. “We heard the same message and came to that same conclusion.  The Hall directed us to go to Walter’s defense.

“Astennen reached him first.”  Tulgas stood upright.

“No!” he exclaimed mightily.  Beorwulf nodded solemnly.

“Unfortunately, it is so,” he confirmed. “We are now following the telum responsible.”

“How did Bert and James come to be here, too?” Kendel asked.  Tulgas muttered distractedly.

“Jagral and I happened to come across James and Bert both in Banadin.  Bert was there selling furs; James came down from his hovel in Gilead, I’m not sure why.

“Curse of Cakadish on Astennen!  We will make them pay!” Tulgas swore angrily.

Chapter VIII

Isaac awoke the next morning feeling a pressure on his chest.  He opened his eyes a crack, trying to discern the swimming figure in front of his face.  Once his eyes focused, he lurched backward with a thrill of shock.  A bobcat sat on him, watching him sternly.  After a few seconds, Isaac recognized Kendel’s feline companion.

“What do you want?” Isaac hissed irritably.  The bobcat jumped off his chest.  It padded across the ground to the exit flap of the tent.  The cat paused and looked back at Isaac expectantly.

“What?”  The bobcat looked him.  “Do you want me to follow you or something?”  The cat flicked its head in a gesture similar to a nod.  Isaac sat up and the cat disappeared through the tent flap.

Being unaccustomed to taking orders from animals, Isaac laid back down.  He had scarcely closed his eyes when the bobcat reappeared and pounced on him.  Isaac sat upright, clawing at the animal, but it slipped away and went to the exit again.

Angrily, Isaac stood and allowed the bobcat to lead him out of the tent.  He stepped into his boots and followed the cat into the trees.  The two continued a short distance.

In a small open place in the trees, a small fire burned.  Isaac glanced around as the bobcat stretched out next to the miniature flames.  After a few minutes, he identified a person sitting on a large tree limb, silhouetted against the slowly lighting sky.

“Good morning,” Isaac said cautiously.  The person jumped down and into the light, revealing, as Isaac had suspected, herself as Kendel.  Kendel walked forward, stopping in front of Isaac.  She didn’t say anything immediately but studied his face, hers remaining impassive.

“If you are going to stay with us, I must be sure that you will not be a burden,” Kendel said. “You will have to do as the others.  You are one of us now.  You will have to learn what we know.”  Isaac stood silent.

“Do you know who we are?” Kendel asked.

“No,” Isaac answered.  Kendel looked into his eyes.

“Do you know who your father was?”  The question struck Isaac like a hammer blow.  He blinked thinking furiously.

“He was… a traveler, a wanderer… wasn’t he?” Isaac replied.  Kendel sighed.

“Your father was a wanderer, of a sort,” she said. “But he was much more than that.  He was, as we here are, a Scalprus.”  Isaac didn’t reply, having no idea what “Scalprus” might mean.

“The Scalpruses began many centuries ago.  Yes, they are travelers by nature, but there is a reason they are travelers.  Have you ever heard tell of the Hall of Cakadem?”  Isaac shook his head.  Kendel huffed.

“I see I have much to explain,” she said.  She gestured toward the fire.  “Sit.”  Isaac sat down at one side of the flames, and Kendel sat on the other.

“The lords of the Hall of Cakadem are the peacekeepers of the world,” Kendel explained. “For reasons I won’t go into now, they are not exactly popular among the citizens of the world.  They were rejected and banished to Le Osliad Ro Lian.  Thus banished, they found it difficult to watch over the world.  They banded the Scalpruses to go abroad and report to them.  They organized the Scalpruses to help guard the world in their absence.

“We, the Scalpruses travel all over the world, watching, fighting for justice,” Kendel said. “It requires great skill to be effective.  If you are to stay with us, you must learn these skills.”  Kendel paused and surveyed Isaac.

“I suspect that your father taught you more of these skills than you may have imagined,” she said. “From now until you have learned what you need to know, you are an Iuvencus – a Scalprus in training.  You must wear a blue cloak like we do.  I will get one for you.”  Isaac stirred.

“I have one in Mountain’s bags,” he interrupted. “It… was Father’s…”  Kendel remained silent a moment.

“That would do,” Kendel said at length.  She turned away.

“You may go now.”  Isaac stood, realizing he had been dismissed.  He turned aside and left.

 

Dawn finally arrived.  Rays of sunlight lit up the sky, coloring the clouds gold.  Isaac had not gone back to his makeshift bed.  Instead he located Walter’s cloak, donned it, and went to restore the fire.

Isaac watched from where he sat on a stump as the rest in the camp left their tents.  He noticed that the Scalprus side of the camp awoke with much more haste and energy than those on the other side.  Within a few minutes of each other, all the blue-cloaked individuals were out and about.  Along with them were Bert and James.  Tulgas remained out of sight, his snores reaching Isaac even from his position.  Jagral, who Isaac had noticed was draped over the limb of a tree in his slumber, stubbornly refused to be stirred.  As Bert sat down next to Isaac, Isaac commented,

“Jagral and Tulgas are certainly late risers.”  Bert glanced across at the sleeping Jagral.

“He’s always that a-way, the lazy cuss,” Bert growled.  He drew a large knife from his belt and began cutting off his fingernails with it.

“You don’t like him?” Isaac remarked.  Bert shook his bulky head.

“Nay,” he said gruffly. “There is a mighty dislikin’ between us.”  Isaac noticed a strange, fairly amusing accent in the man’s voice.

“I would have broken the scrawny speck’s neck long ago, weren’t for Tulgas and James,” Bert continued.  “And Walter…,” he added on afterthought. “I’m sorry he had to die, especially the way he did.  He were a good man, your father.”  The sincerity in Bert’s voice was clear; Isaac felt his eyes misting up.  He rubbed his eyes, giving the pretense of being tired.

“No need to be ashamed of it,” Bert said kindly. “It takes a real man to shed tears over what matters most.”  He reached across and thumped Isaac on the back.

“Thank you,” Isaac said appreciatively, unsure whether some of the others in the camp would have been so sympathetic.  Bert was silent a moment, looking into the flames.

“Good fire you made,” Bert said, gesturing. “Not too big.  On the small side.  Very practical; I like it.”  Isaac looked up.

“Thank you,” he said. “Father always told us a large fire was inefficient: too bright to go unnoticed by wildlife, too hot to cook on, and too hot to approach.”  Bert nodded.

“‘Tis true, that,” he replied. “I like a large fire only for light.”

Wallace and William appeared next to the fire, setting a pot of water on a makeshift stand above the flames.  Wallace approached Isaac.

“A touch of warning,” he said, “but it mightn’t be the wisest idea to wear that cloak.  It’s sort of impertinent.”

“No worries there,” Isaac replied. “Kendel told me to wear it.  She says I need to be – ah – trained as an… Iuvencus.”  Wallace raised an eyebrow.

“Did she really?”  He frowned.  “Hmm!  Well then!”  He turned and walked off.

After a fashion, a meal was prepared and served.  Isaac joined Wallace and William where they stood listening to a conversation between Kendel and Tulgas, who had finally arisen.

“I must say I am surprised, if not disappointed, to find that another member of our company has not appeared,” Kendel said. “This seems like such a thing Crowley would be anxious to engage in.”  Isaac perked up, recognizing the name.

“Do I remember Crowley?” Tulgas asked.  Kendel nodded.

“You should,” Kendel said. “He was a bit prideful of his name.  He always had that crow on his shoulder.”  Tulgas nodded.

“Ah yes!  I remember now, sort of,” Tulgas said. “I only met him briefly.  He was certainly an interesting fellow.”

“It would have been like him to be here,” Kendel repeated.

As soon as the meal was done, camp was taken down and packed up.  At this point, Jagral climbed from the tree, setting Bert in a storm of grumbling, saying that he had “hoped to leave the stunted devil behind”.  This was found to be particularly humorous by Wallace and William, who began laughing silently.

Once everything was together, everyone mounted up, excluding Tulgas, Bert, and Jagral.  Isaac had found it unlikely that there was a horse alive large enough to carry Bert, and he had been correct.  Bert and Tulgas took a wagon drawn by two brutish horses.  Jagral, who was so small, stretched out over the baggage in the wagon and went to sleep again.  The group set out, a pack of dogs in tow.

 

Presently, the group came to a stop.  The sun had gone past its highest point and was continuing its descent.  The sky was clear and a slight breeze blew.  The reason for stopping came of the one spot in the sky that was not clear: smoke, lots of smoke, drifting upward.

“There is a town ahead,” Kendel said. “It would be suspicious for a group of our number to go through all at once.  We will have to go in segments.”

“It would be most logical to form these segments primarily by age and temperament,” Jason suggested.

“Yes,” Beorwulf agreed. “And it would also appear strange that all of us should pass through and none stay, especially the latter group traveling near dark.”

“It would be equally unwise to all enter from the same direction,” Tulgas added.  Kendel nodded.

“Very well than,” she said looking over the group. “Bunoby, Tulgas, Jagral, and I will go through first.  Wait for a least an hour, then Caleb, Harrison, Paul, and Gregor go through, but come in from the east.  Another wait, then Jason, Mia, Raymond, and Beorwulf coming from the west.  Give pause again and then…”  She stopped a moment, frowning at the remaining five.  “If you can refrain from drawing unwanted attention, then you, William, Wallace, Isaac, Bert, and James, will go through last.  You will remain in town over night.  Don’t forget to get coin to pay for board.  We will all meet three miles due south of here in the morning.”  She spared the group one last look of doubt before turning away and leading her foursome off.

Wallace grinned over at William and Isaac.  “Excellent!” he said. “We’re going to have an interesting night.  Not only do we get an inn with a good hot meal and plenty to drink, we get a bed, and we get to see what our friends Bert and James are like.”

“We’re the lucky ones, to be sure,” William added.  Isaac frowned.

“What exactly does one do in an inn?” he asked. “Or in a town, for that matter?”  Wallace looked over at William.

“Ah, yes…” he replied. “I had forgotten that you have spent your entire life in Gilead.”

“For you information,” William answered, “we are not likely going to settle for a mere inn; I doubt Bert would allow it anyway.  No, we are going to locate a tavern.”

“A tavern is an excellent place,” Wallace continued. “A good one always has people in it, all sorts; pleasant folk, poor men, farmers, drunks, villains, shady wanderers, merchants, travelers, and the list goes on and on.  No better or more interesting location in a town usually.”

“Another good part: a tavern usually has all sorts of food and drink.  A good one has any drink you could find anywhere else in the world.  Excellent! excellent estate!” William said.  Isaac furrowed his brow.

“It certainly sounds interesting enough,” said he.  Wallace clapped him on the shoulder.

“Just you wait; you’ll have a grand time, to be sure,” he assured him.

 

Over the course of the following hours, the groups disbanded, leaving the others behind, until only James, Isaac, William, Wallace, and Bert remained with their dogs: Barley, the cocker and springer spaniels, and the malamute.  The sun drifted out of the sky, slowly suggesting it would soon disappear behind the horizon.

Their time came to set out.  Isaac mounted up, nervously anticipating his first encounter with many people all in one place.

Bert took up the wagon and grinned across at Isaac.

“Your father made an inter’sting addition to any pub I attended, he did,” he remarked. “I remember; a waif fancied your father as a lowly nobody: he tried to frisk him of valuables.”  Bert chuckled heartily.  “Walter, he stood up and let loose a strike.  The beggar dropped to the floor, flat out senseless.  It drew a good laugh from the others present.”  Isaac sat back, thinking.  He didn’t find it too outrageous to think his father would have done that, although he had never known his father to be attuned to such violence.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Wallace called.  The group set off, approaching the spirals of smoke signaling the town before them.

Presently, the town began to come into view.  Isaac watched the nearing residences with interest; he had seen six cabins at the Jemry farm, and that seemed as much a town to him as anything.  He was eager to see how many people a proper town would hold.

The rose over a ridge and Isaac looked down on the town.  He started in surprise.  Here were buildings everywhere: some large, some small, but all closely packed.  Isaac sat upon Mountain amazed.  He counted many more houses than six.

“Ah, civilization,” William noted appreciatively. “That is the one thing lacking in our trade.”  He flicked his reigns and the horse cantered down the slope.  The rest followed behind.

Isaac stared around in fascination as they entered the town.  There were people everywhere.  Isaac saw five men standing around outside of a larger building conversing casually with each other; a sign above the door identified the place as a blacksmith’s forge.  A small army of children raced past him in some sort of game or other.  An old man sat in the sun puffing on a simple pipe.  A few women walked about going through their varying errands.  Standing around in the shadow of a particularly tall building, six boys ranging from a year older than Isaac to four years younger stared suspiciously as the five rode past.

Bert broke out whistling cheerily.  James glanced nervously about, huddling in his saddle as though to evade the gazes of the people around him.  Wallace and William swept their eyes about, taking in the people and looking about for their destination.

“Ah, here we are!” William said suddenly, pulling back on the reigns.  Isaac looked at the building they had stopped beside.

“Looks like an ideal place,” Wallace said nodding.  The residence was a high-roofed structure with long, fairly narrow windows.  A sign above two, tall double-doors read, “Penny Pigeon Pub”.  Three men laughed jovially just outside the doors, and the sounds of conversation issued through the walls.  Isaac rubbed his chin nervously.

“Looks a mite bit too classy for my liking,” Bert said gruffly. “Wouldn’t expect such from a small town o’ the like.”  William and Wallace shrugged.

“No problem for me,” Wallace said.

William looked about a moment.  “Ah!  There’s a stable there; who’ll go put up the horses for the night?”

“I’ll do it,” Isaac volunteered immediately, eager to delay the moment he would have to enter the frightening room.

“Good then!” William replied. “How many horses have we got?  Six and one wagon.  Right then: six coppers for the horses and five for the wagon.”  He dropped eleven coins into Isaac’s hand.  “Just give that to whoever you see over there to pay for the space taken up.”  Isaac nodded, neglecting to mention he hadn’t any familiarity with money.  The only money he had ever seen were a handful of coins handed to Walter by Old Man Jemry after Walter had killed a wolf eating his turkeys.

“We’ll see you in a few minutes then,” Wallace said as they all dismounted.  Isaac took the reins of all the horses and precariously led them to the stables.

As Isaac stopped before the stable gates, he looked around for someone to hand off the coins to.  A few yards from the gate, a drab man stood, leaning against the wall of the stable and occasionally taking a drink from the bottle in his hand.

“Excuse me,” Isaac called.  The man looked over.  “Do I pay to you?”  The man looked at Isaac a moment, taking in him and the horses with him.

“Why yas you do,” the man said, straightening up and hiding the bottle from view.  “‘Ow much ya’ got for me?”  Isaac glanced at the coins.

“Eleven… coppers, sir,” he replied.  The man’s face lit up.

“Put ’em ‘ere, gent!” he cried eagerly, briskly stepping forward with hand outstretched.  Isaac dropped the coins into his greasy hand.

“Thank’ee, thank’ee much, sir!” he said, bobbing his head furiously while greedily stuffing the coins down his shirt.

The man went to the gate and attempted to tug it open.  After several unsuccessful attempts, he stepped back and scratched his head.  He examined the gate, noticing a peg keeping the gate shut.  He removed it and the gate opened easily.

Still nodding and smiling, he backed away a few steps before turning and trotting off hurriedly.  Isaac watched him leave, vaguely feeling he had made some sort of mistake.  He led the horses into the stable, encountering no one else.

He removed Bert’s horses from the wagon and removed all the horses’ saddles and saddlebags.  In not too long, he had finished, and he resignedly plodded to the Penny Pigeon Pub.  He found himself standing before the doors, wavering between entering and finding some tree to stay the night under.  Isaac’s misgivings were interrupted by a deep voice.

“You all right, son?”  Isaac looked up, taking note of an old man standing beside and a bit behind him.

“Yes, sir, fine,” he said hastily.  The man nodded, his eyes never leaving Isaac’s.

“You looked a little funny there swaying in front of the door,” the man said. “And either way, I’d like to go in.”  Isaac realized he was standing in the way and he stepped aside.  The man walked past with a “good night” and pressed through the doors.  Isaac sighed and followed behind.

A thin cloud of smoke filled the room, fogging Isaac’s vision slightly.  Tables sat about on interval around the room, most of their seats full.  A counter on the far side of the room appeared to have no room for another person to sit.  The room was full of all types of men; Isaac saw old men sitting at one side of the room, puffing pipes that seemed to fill the room with the smoke and conversing calmly, middle-aged men eating, drinking, and laughing, young men hunching over their drinks and glaring at each other, the occasional man sitting in a corner shrouded in a hooded cloak and shadow, a crabby miser sitting alone and watching the floor carefully for fallen coins, and a paunch man laying draped half over his table with a spilled drink wetting his sleeping face.

Isaac stood reeling from all this, never having seen so many people let alone in such close proximity.  He looked around in a slight daze, noticing Bert sitting at the counter roaring with laughter, a large mug in his hand and a hearty meal before him.  William and Wallace sat at a table to themselves, eating and looking about at their current company.  After a few moments, Isaac finally located James; he sat in the furthest corner concealed by the deepest shadow, hunched over a narrow bottle and watching those nearest to him nervously.  Finding his position most to his own liking, Isaac wove his way toward him.

Sitting in the chair next to him, Isaac asked James, “Does it help to sit in a corner like so?”  James looked over at him and rubbed his chin.

“We’ll for the common, unobservant and auspicious person it helps,” he said. “For those who actually matter in such situations, it doesn’t really help.”  He sat back and took a swig from his bottle.  Isaac frowned.

“Then why are we back here?” Isaac asked.

“Don’t you worry,” James admonished. “I was talking more of myself.  You’re perfectly safe back here.”  He took another swig from his bottle.  Isaac looked back over the crowd.

“What’s in the bottle?” inquired Isaac curiously.  Holding it up, James examined container in question absently.

“It’s apple cider,” he replied at length. “Only cider.  It comforts me.  Nothing too special.”  He took another drink staring at the table moodily.

While Isaac was contemplating this, a disturbance caught his attention.  He glanced over to the opposite side of the room.  Two men stood shouting at each other, each giving the other a shove in turn.  The fight drew only a few eyes.  The other two men who had shared the table with the pair of ruffians looked on with irritation.

Bert stood up from his place and lumbered over to the disruption.  He pushed the two apart and wrapped one thick arm around each of their necks.  Amid emphasized shouts of approval, Bert dragged the two men toward the door.  Isaac recognized one of the men to be the man Isaac had paid the coppers to.  This new appearance of the man seemed to justify the unease that Isaac had felt after the transaction had completed.  Upon reaching the threshold, Bert hurled the men from the premises.

“Wild crowd,” Isaac noted uncomfortably.  James shrugged.

“It’s rather tame compared with most,” he answered.  Isaac glanced back to the table where the fight had originated.  The two men there had already bent back down over their own business.

“I wonder what caused it,” he remarked idly.  James gave a brief laugh.

“Probably fighting over the result of a game of pyx,” he said. “That is a game that can stir up a man’s ire, to be sure.”  Isaac frowned, unfamiliar with the name.

“What a complicated place a tavern is!” he grumbled.

Over the next hour, Isaac’s hunger won him over and he decided to get something to eat.  He got some coins from William and pushed his way to the counter.  After some clumsy, hesitant speech, he exchanged his money for a large bowl of hot stew.  He found it acceptable, but not nearly as good as the food he was used to at home.

Time wore on; the pub did not become emptier for it.  The place became more packed, more smelly, more noisy to the point that Isaac was quite again ready to find a tree to sleep under.  Wallace and William wandered their way over to Isaac and James at length.

“It’s been a nice evening, if I do say so myself,” Wallace said contently.

“Speak for yourself,” Isaac huffed.

“Regardless,” William said, “it is getting late and Kendel,” here he dropped his voice, “won’t be too pleased if we are too tired tomorrow.”  Wallace nodded.

“We need to keep up appearances,” he stated seriously. “We’ve got to show we are responsible enough to continued doing this.”

“Honestly,” Isaac retorted. “I’m not so sure I want to do this anymore.”  Wallace shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” he replied cheerily. “These places grow on you.”  Isaac privately felt such a place would certainly grow something, but nothing endearing.

“Anyway,” William said, “I got us a room; let’s go get some sleep.”  He motioned for them to follow.  They dodged their way through the ever thickening crowd (and air) to a door at the back of the room.  William opened it, leading them down a hallway heading to the right.  A few doors down he stopped and drew a key from his pocket.

“Here we are!”  He positioned the key in the lock and turned it.  The door opened with a click.  The room inside was fairly dusty and held two beds; one large, one small.  Cobwebs hung in every corner, filled with dead bugs and the occasional spider.

“Home, sweet home,” James commented dryly.  William frowned.

“It is a little bit of a disappointment,” he sighed.

“I think I might sleep on the floor,” James sniffed.  He sneezed as a result from all the dust in the air.

“Come now! it’s not that bad!” Wallace said cheerily.  Isaac raised an eyebrow.  “I mean look!  It has even got lovely lace curtains.”  He gestured at the far wall.

“Those are webs,” James sighed.

“There is some sort of animal carved on this… mirror here,” Wallace continued.

“You just might find some bunnies under the bed, too,” Isaac snorted.

“And look how thick the blankets are!”

“I do believe half of that is dust.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” William said, throwing his hands in the air. “I couldn’t have known that this room hadn’t been used in the last decade.”  He stepped to the bed, grasping the top of the covers.  “We might as well back the best of it.”  He threw up the sheets, shaking off the dust and driving in all over in the air.  Immediately, everyone began coughing.

“Oh, marvelous idea!” Wallace choked. “I wasn’t sure there was enough dust in the air to grow flowers.”  Sneezing and coughing, Isaac forced open the door and staggered back down the hall, suddenly keen on braving the pub’s attendees in order to get something to drink and clear his throat.

Presently, he leaned back against the wall, satisfied for the moment with the glass of water in his hand.  He idly looked about again.  The men in the corner continued their game of whatever it was.  Bert remained the center of a large crowd of people clearly enjoying themselves.  Over by the door, a discontented man wearing black bandanna of one eye left the building.  As he was leaving, he paused, his showing eye locked on Isaac.  The two held the gaze a moment before the man turned away and left.

Watching him go, Isaac cocked his head, wondering.  The man did not make a reappearance, and Isaac shrugged and forgot about him.

 

Chapter IX

The next morning, Wallace woke the group fairly early.  Isaac sat up to find James grumbling angrily and William rubbing his eyes.

“Come on, you all,” Wallace said, waving his hands as if to herd them about. “Let’s get going and join up with the others.  There’s nothing more to do here.  Let’s get a move on!”  With Wallace buzzing about them, the three got their things together and got to their feet.  Isaac rubbed his red eyes.

“William,” he said, “next time let me get us a room.”

“Or at least check the room before you pay for it,” James noted.  William shrugged and sneezed.

In the pub, they found Bert scraping a heavy serving of hotcakes into his mouth.  The room was mostly empty now.  The noisy clamor that had pervaded before left with the people.  The air was mostly clear.

“Let’s not stop to eat,” Wallace said. “Let’s go now and eat later.”  Isaac sighed.

“Come on, Bert!” William called. “We’re leaving now.”  Bert looked up.

“Arr!  I was almost finished!” he exclaimed sadly.  Isaac then witnessed the fastest tucking away of food he likely would ever see.  Bert dropped his utensils and grabbed the remaining food, a significant portion, with both hands, crushing it, condensing it into his mouth.  He cheeks bulged, and for the next three minutes, Bert’s oral activity was occupied by chewing the mass sufficiently to swallow it.

The five of them left the Penny Pigeon Pub and went to the stable.  Thankfully, the horses, wagon, and dogs were all still there.  Isaac attributed this mainly to the malamute; a canine of such a size did well in discouraging any theft or even inspection.  Barley perked up immediately when he caught sight of Isaac.  He bounded over to him and began whining eagerly.

“Go on, Barley,” Isaac chuckled, pushing aside the dog’s nose.  Barley licked his hand.

The group attracted slightly less attention as they left the town, heading southward to where the rest of the camp was likely to be.  For the most part the streets were deserted in the early morning.

As they passed the final home, Isaac asked, “How are we going to locate the others?”  Wallace let his eyes wander over the bushes and trees they approached.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” he said.  Isaac looked at the trees then glanced back quizzically.

“Why is that, then?” he inquired.  William grinned.

“Because Harrison over there is hiding in the bushes and he can tell us where the others are,” he replied.  Isaac looked at the bushes.  His search failed to reveal Harrison.

“I don’t see him,” Isaac stated.  Wallace shrugged.

“He’s there.”  They continued to approach, passing through the trees.  At length, in a specific spot, Wallace called out.

“Morning, Harrison.  You’re up early enough,” he said cheerily.  There was a pause.  “Come on out.  I know you are there; don’t pretend otherwise – you might damage your pride.”  This last comment was delivered with a hint of distaste.  Another pause; the bushes opened, suddenly revealing Harrison.  A frown resided on his lips, a result of his displeasure of having been discovered.

“I’ve been waiting a while,” Harrison grumbled. “You’re late.”

“Late my eye,” William retorted. “The sun’s barely come up.  Now where’s camp?  Over there?”  William gestured away from all of them, into the trees.  Harrison glared slightly.

“Yes, they are over there,” he replied eventually.  William nodded.

“Good then,” he said. “We will see you later.”  He led the way into the trees, ignorant of, or ignoring, Harrison’s look of irritation.

They found Kendel waiting for them.  As they rode into camp, she nodded approvingly.

“Good,” she said. “I doubted your responsibility in getting here in a timely fashion.  Did you enjoy yourselves?”  Isaac glanced at the others, suspecting a trap of sorts.  The others glanced around in the same fashion, until Wallace went for a vague reply.

“Yes, we had a great time,” he answered seriously.  Then he sneezed.  Kendel raised an eyebrow and William decided to go for a leap of faith.

“It was enjoyable, indeed,” he said.  Kendel nodded again.

“Excellent.  It would be suspicious to have you in a tavern if you didn’t appear to want to be there,” Kendel explained. “I will remember all this.”  She turned and entered her tent.

“Well,” Wallace said quietly. “Hopefully this means we will be greater bound to get the job next time.”  Bert huffed.

“I don’t really care what Kendel says,” he exclaimed. “I’ll be in those taverns whenever they are there.”  Further words were interrupted as he sneezed explosively.

 

As the camp got together and prepared to leave, Kendel interrupted their preparations.  Once she had their attention she announced:

“Today we will postpone our travel in order to prepare and ensure that we – all – will be ready to face whatever threats we encounter as we chase down this telum and his associate.”  She paused and looked at Isaac, convincing him that it was he who she most specifically spoke of.  “We may not spend the entire day on this; it will depend on how much progress needs be made.  You may begin as you are ready.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she approached Isaac.  “We will start now.  You have a bow?”  Isaac nodded.  “Good.  Fetch it and follow me.”  Isaac located the bow, collected his arrows and set off after Kendel.

Kendel lead him a distance into the trees, her own bow in hand.  Presently, she stopped and pointed into the trees.

“Do you see that apple tree?” she inquired.  Isaac acknowledged that he did.  “Do you see that apple hanging from the lowest branch?”  Isaac again said he did.  “Hit it with an arrow.”  Isaac studied the apple.  The tree wasn’t very far away, only about ten yards, but the apple wasn’t fully ripe and wasn’t terribly large.  Isaac notched an arrow and pulled back on the bowstring.  He let fly, and the arrow whistled toward the tree, striking the apple on the side and knocking it sideways from its perch.  The arrow struck the trunk of the tree and buried itself, quivering.  Isaac grinned, satisfied with the shot.  He turned triumphantly to Kendel.

Kendel did not smile in return.  “In order to achieve proficiency you will need to make a similar shot, or a more difficult one, with the same, or better, results in much less time.  Time is a luxury, confidence; a requirement, and accuracy; all that makes the rest valuable,” she informed him coldly.  Isaac sighed, his now required confidence fading.  “But,” Kendel added with a touch of a smile, “that was a marvelous start.”  Isaac’s smile reappeared.

“Now release another arrow, at the tree again if you will, so I may observe your form,” Kendel instructed.  Isaac did as she asked.  Kendel nodded in approval.

“Walter taught you well,” Kendel said. “Just as he taught me.  I have nothing to comment on but this: the only thing that will help you here is practice.  Practice shooting consistently and intuitively.  Only practice will improve your skill.”

“Fortunately, there is more for you to learn than just the bow,” she added. “The others are most likely readying in the area; collect your arrows and come over here.”  Isaac hurried to do so, wondering what next was in store.

As he followed Kendel, he noted a loud smacking sound.  Pushing through the trees, the source of the sound was revealed.

Wallace and Tulgas danced about, exchanging blows with makeshift wooden swords.  Isaac stared in surprise; Wallace was unexpectedly skilled in this area and Tulgas moved rather fast for a man no longer in his prime.  Isaac watched with fascination.

Tulgas slashed at Wallace from left to right, and Wallace sprung backward while returning the strike from the right, which Tulgas knocked aside with a sweep of his stick/sword.  The two stood off, ready for a few seconds before Wallace ducked low and sliced in an upward arc.  Tulgas bashed the attack to one side and looped his own weapon back, rapping Wallace on the shoulder.  Wallace winced and the two stood.

“Remember,” Tulgas said, “the first to strike loses.”  Wallace nodded as he relieved the weapon to Jason.

“Sparring with you, that is probably true,” Wallace replied.  Tulgas chuckled, handing his own sword to Harrison.

Jason and Harrison faced each other, neither moving.  Harrison started a strike, but pulled it back early: a simple feint.  Jason didn’t fall for it, but remained still.  Harrison struck again, this time slashing horizontally at Jason’s head.  Jason ducked away from the blow and twisted around, swinging his weapon back, colliding his blade with Harrison’s.  The force of the crash knocked the stick from Harrison’s hand.  Harrison leapt back, rubbing his hand.  William and Wallace laughed, earning glares from the defeated.

“Isaac, I want you to try, no preparation,” Kendel said.  She motioned at Jason, who relieved his sword.  “Raymond,” she called.  The boy stepped forward, eyeing Isaac with mild amusement.  “Raymond, I would like you to combat with Isaac.  Give him a chance, if he needs it, but don’t feel required to let him win.  I want him to learn.”  Raymond took Harrison’s sword and took up a stance in the center of the group.  A pleased smirk glared at Isaac from his face.  Isaac resignedly took his mock weapon and approached Raymond, ready to fail to a boy several years his junior.

Unexpectedly, Raymond pounced, thrusting the weapon at Isaac’s midriff.  Isaac stumbled back, hastily swatting at the wooden blade.  He missed.  Raymond advanced, slashing at Isaac from hip to shoulder.  Isaac barely blocked the blow, but ended up with the weapon trapped between his leg and Raymond’s sword.  He jumped back, Raymond jumping after him, and attempted a strike of his own.  Raymond contemptuously swept the blow aside and battered Isaac’s ribs in response.  He stepped back, smiling.

Scowling, Isaac returned the stick to Kendel, his face burning.  He glanced back as Raymond went back to his previous position next to Mia.  To his great irritation, he found Mia watching him with a smug simper.  To his mild consolation, he noted Bert frowning disapprovingly at Raymond.

“Wallace – William.  Get the spare practice swords and teach Isaac how to use them properly,” Kendel said.  The two took up the mentioned weapons and motioned for Isaac to follow them.  As the three left the group, Isaac looked over his shoulder.  He was slightly pleased to see Bert speaking sternly with Raymond.

The three found another clear spot, and William and Wallace showed him the basic attacks and blocks.  They took turns dueling slower than would normally occur and they occasionally sparred with each other to allow Isaac to observe their form.  Isaac still felt like he wasn’t really any good with it, for he couldn’t improvise his attacks like the others to catch his opponent off guard.  Still, the twins assured him that he was doing well.

Presently, Bert pushed through the bushes into their hollow.  He looked at Isaac and said gruffly, “Don’t you worry yourself over Raymond.  I gave him a talking to.”  Wallace and William looked over eagerly.

“Oh did you?” Wallace asked. “What did you say to him?”  Bert looked a little taken aback.

“Oh!  I just told him it’s no victory to gloat over beatin’ someone with far less experience than himself and the like, and that the reason Kendel chose him to fight Isaac was because he was the least skilled out of everyone else there,” Bert explained sheepishly.  William and Wallace cackled.

“Excellent!” William exclaimed. “I imagine he took it well.”

“He soured up right, if that’s what you mean.”

Wallace nodded thoughtfully.  “He didn’t used to be so smug.  He was polite enough when he first joined the camp.  Then he got to know Mia…”

“Well anyhow,” Bert said straightening up, “are you all done here?”  William shrugged and Wallace nodded.  “Alright then.  Kendel wants you back.”

The rejoined the others, finding Tulgas fighting with Paul.  They stood facing each other, waiting for the other to move.  With great suddenness, Tulgas pounced, poking the unprepared Paul in the belly.

“Remember,” Tulgas said with a smile. “The last to strike loses.”  Wallace snorted as he heard this.

“Only when fighting you, old timer,” Paul laughed.  Tulgas chuckled, twirling his makeshift sword.

“How about you, Bert?” he called. “A bit of swordplay would do you no harm, and as Kendel said, we all need to be ready for anything.”  Bert glanced at the faces watching him.

“Oh, all right,” he growled.  Paul handed him his sword.  Bert stared at it for a few moments, a confused look on his face.

“What’s this for?” he asked Paul.  Paul faltered.

“It’s – for you to fight with…”  Bert dropped the mock weapon in disgust.

“I don’t need your toothpick, boy,” he said.  He began looking around.  Isaac noted that Tulgas’s smile shrank quite a few teeth.

“Ah!” Bert said, walking through a bush and bending over.  He came back up hefting a large tree limb like a crooked club.  “Here’s what I need.”  Walking forward with satisfaction, Bert faced Tulgas.  Tulgas gripped his sword tightly and nervously.

“Have at thee!” Bert roared with a flair twirl of his club.  The fight didn’t last long.  He charged like a bull, the club held crosswise in front of him.  Tulgas stumbled into retreat, having no other option, provided he wanted to keep his ribs intact.  Bert crashed into him, plowing him over and knocking him to the ground.

As Tulgas picked himself up, Bert looked down at him, his club resting on his shoulder, and said with an impassive face, “Remember, the first to fight me loses.”

 

That night, Isaac sat back comfortably against a tree.  A fire crackled a distance in front of him, warding away the night chill.  Several other fires burned in addition to his, other members of the camp huddled around them.  Isaac’s fire was rather crowded about, for Wallace, William, Bert, and James had joined him as well as the dogs: Wallace and William’s spaniels, Poppy and Bounder, Barley, and Bert’s monstrous malamute, Kyu.

Isaac glanced up at the trees across the clearing.  Jagral lay against the higher branches, watching the ground below.

William stirred.  “You made good progress today, Isaac,” he said. “You’re a fast learner and you’ll be better than Raymond in no time at the rate you are going.”  Isaac chuckled.

“Father didn’t have patience for incompetence,” he replied. “He taught us to pay close enough attention to learn the first time.”

“Aye, that is true,” Bert said. “I recall that is why he didn’t like his apprentice Crowley all that much.  That boy never paid attention unless the right subject caught his interest.”  He glanced at another fire where Tulgas, Kendel, Beorwulf, and Jason sat.  “Crowley always was an odd one.”  James shifted uncomfortably on the stump he sat on.

“I liked Crowley well enough,” he said timidly.  Bert snorted.

“That’s only because he took to you like his crow,” he said. “He never had much of a thought of you.  Or anything.  He liked you.”

“Him and Walter both,” James agreed, nodding.  Isaac sat up straighter.

“How did you two meet my father?” he inquired curiously.  Bert scratched his chin.

“Well it’s a long and interesting story,” he said slowly. “It was such I long time ago, I’m not sure I remember the details properly.

“It was while he was in Nianom.  I always liked the mountains up there.  When I was young, I would look at them from lowlands at the foothills of the Brackenstirn Mountains, and I would wish I could be there on the misty slopes I saw.  Eventually, when I was a fairly young man, I went to live there myself.  It was good for a while; I was happy there.  But they were unfamiliar mountains, and I didn’t know what dangers were there.”

Bert shivered slightly and gazed through the trees around them.  “One day, when the mists were particularly thick, I was ambushed and attacked by a group of Jagrians.  Cowardly little creeps; sneaky thieves like Jagral.”  He shot a cruel glance over his shoulder at Jagral, whose eyes watched him coolly, as though he knew what Bert was speaking of.

“I was outnumbered badly.  There were six of them, and I was unarmed but a knife while they had spears.  They attacked me from all sides.  I managed to kill one of them, but the rest became more cautious.  They stabbed me many times, they did.”  Bert rubbed a triangular scar on his arm.  Isaac suddenly saw with horror, that several disfigured his arms.

“I wouldn’t have lasted much longer, but your father was in those mountains at the time and he heard the fighting.  He came armed with his bow and his great dog, Camron.  They found us, and Walter killed one of them with his bow and Camron attacked another.  Those who remained fled for their lives – and rightfully so.”  Isaac interrupted.

“You mean he just killed them?” he exclaimed. “He didn’t try to subdue them or anything?”  Wallace stood.

“You need to understand this, Isaac.  Jagrians, particularly those of Nianom and other wilder places, are wild and vicious.  They show no mercy to their opponents and probably would have killed your father had he not acted first,” Wallace explained.

“And remember: there were five of them left, and only three of us, if you count Camron,” Bert added. “No, he chose the only logical course of action.”  Isaac frowned, troubled, but accepted the assessment.

“Your father and I stuck together from then,” Bert continued after a fashion. “More appropriately, he stuck to me.  I didn’t really want him around, but he helped me as I recovered from my injuries.  I eventually took a liking to him in that time and we ended up traveling here to Kosmodon.”  Bert sat back and scratched his head.  “We got in to all sorts of adventurous endeavors, we did.”  With a brief chuckle, Bert stood and walked off, whistling merrily.

“What a very interesting and peculiar person your father must have been, Isaac,” William said thoughtfully.

“I would have liked to have met him,” Wallace added.  Isaac felt his eyes stinging and he looked away, hiding the action by stroking Barley’s fur.  The dog gave his characteristic whine in response.

A handful of minutes dragged by, and Kendel stood from her position and approached Isaac.  Isaac stood, if only to appear respectful.

“Isaac, I would like you to take watch with Wallace tonight so that you can learn exactly what one does and what one should be attuned to in that responsibility,” Kendel informed him. “I regret that you cannot be instructed normally, due to our circumstances; it will take us all to do it now.”  Isaac frowned, worried.  Kendel noticed and her voice softened.

“Don’t worry.  I suspect that you have a lot of ability inherited from your father, and he has taught you much of what you need to know,” Kendel said.  She leaned a little closer.  “And what you do not know, you make up for with your heart.”  She stepped back, looking into his eyes, and then she turned and returned to her previous position.

Isaac sat back down, thinking over her words.  He began to wonder if he had all that much of his father in him.  He smiled in thinking he might not have lost his father completely.

 

That night when Wallace woke him, Isaac was momentarily confused, thinking it was morning.  Then his exhaustion told him it was much earlier than that.

“Come along Isaac,” Wallace said as Isaac sat up. “First lesson: wake up faster.”  Wallace himself sounded tired enough but his movements were quick and alert.

Isaac dragged himself out of the tent and stood before Wallace.  Wallace looked him over, and after a few seconds, he grabbed his shoulders and turned him back to the tent.

“When protecting or guarding a place or person, it helps to have something to defend yourself and your charge with.  Get your bow.”

Isaac fumbled through the dark tent in search of his bow.  A bit roughly, he located it and his arrows: the latter by scratching the back of his hand on them.  Once he had the items, he went and stood before Wallace again.

“Took you a while,” Wallace commented. “Keep everything you need in a consistent place so that you don’t have to spend time looking for it in the dark.”  Wallace handed him a lantern.  The lantern hung from a long stick similar to a particularly tall cane.

“What’s the mount for?” Isaac asked.  Wallace took up a lantern for himself.

“Assuming your lantern lights something up that should probably be shot, you don’t want to drop the lantern on the ground and risk losing your source of light, you don’t want to take the time to set it down, and you definitely don’t want to try shooting you bow with that in hand.  The stick has a spike at the bottom.  Should you need to set it down, you just jam it into the ground.”  With a deft thrust, Wallace stuck the lantern in the ground, and there it stayed.  “This way, the lantern remains at hand and it can continue to provide light for you,” Wallace explained.

“Convenient,” Isaac noted.

“Indeed.”  Isaac looked about the camp.

“What next?” he asked.

“Really, the only thing to remember is to stay awake,” Wallace admitted. “Wander about camp so you change vantage points and don’t get surprised by something you can’t see from here, but can see from somewhere else.  If something of note occurs, wake whoever is necessary to solve the problem – be that Kendel, Beorwulf, Jason, Tulgas, or everyone.”  He paused a moment, then with a slight grin, he added, “Or Raymond if you want him to perform an imaginary task or something else mischievous.”  Isaac laughed.

“That’s it.  Just don’t fall against the tents and make sure you are paying attention to your surroundings,” Wallace concluded. “Take that side of the camp for now.”  Isaac made his way through the tents and began wandering as Wallace had said.

The forest around them was quiet.  Nothing moved except for Jagral where he slept in the branches of a tree.  Wallace’s instruction to stay awake suddenly seemed more relevant; in the quiet and stillness, Isaac’s sleepiness reasserted itself.  Dreading the next two or three hours he would spend, Isaac set himself to his task, even though he realized it would most likely be uneventful.

 

Chapter X

The next day they set off again, traveling further south.  Isaac didn’t exactly want to continue that day; he was not used to the sleep he had lost and he wasn’t feeling particularly energized.  But he knew that every day they spent going nowhere was another day it would take to catch up with the murderous telum ahead of them, and it was better to continue than to stay put.

They traveled the day through, coming across a fair number of other travelers on the way.  Some of these headed north, in the opposite direction.  Others headed the same way at a marginally slower pace.  At one point, Kendel stopped the group before a northbound traveling group and asked how far it was until the nearest village.  The reply had been, “We left two mornings ago; I wouldn’t expect to get there for at least that long.”  Kendel’s next question had been had they seen any suspicious persons going southward.  The reply: “Only the lot of you”, a response that drew chuckles from Bert, Paul, Wallace, and William.

Once the other group had continued onward, Kendel had stated that the telum had at least a two day head on them and that he had made it at least as far as the next settlement.  Isaac had worried at that, concerned that the telum would escape to whatever hole he had come from.  Despite his weariness, he wanted to increase their already rather rapid speed.

That night, to Isaac’s relief, Kendel decided to let him have a night of sleep.  She told him that he needed to become accustomed to losing sleep to a watch, but he needed to have acceptable rest until that time.

 

The group reached the town in another day, confirming Isaac’s suspicions that they traveled at a rate much faster than normal travelers.  This particular settlement was much larger than the last one, and Kendel decided that amid a large population as such, a sizable parade like them would not seem unusual.

The town, while being larger than the last, was not plotted out with the same organization.  Homes and sheds and barns were positioned at random, with wide streets separating them in some places and narrow, muddy alleyways in others.  It wasn’t until they reached the center of town that any portion of order established itself.

The city center was surrounded by an ancient stone wall.  The wide gates stood open admitting people to go in and out.  Two militiamen stood watch over the people passing through, both armed with a short sword and both wearing each a dusty tabard bearing a faded, but elaborate emblem.  The eyes of these two men followed the group of Scalpruses as they passed.  Isaac noted with some concern that one of the men spoke something to the other and hurried away.

The inside of the wall impressed Isaac even more.  It was of historical design: large stone buildings stood on the side of a wide, cobblestone road, more militiamen stood at intervals, at the inside wall, behind the battlements, occasional men armed with bows stood readily, and at the end of the street stood a towering, cathedral-like manor.  The manor was build from carefully cut white stone, reaching upward three levels, topped by a high, lordly tower.  Isaac gazed at it in wonder, never having suspected that he might see something so noble and grand.

“I had forgotten,” Kendel said with a slight smile. “This was a notable castle centuries ago when this area was in the hands of the nation Kovicstan.  This is the original castle as it still stands.  Lord Vaniir owns this keep and it is his home when he is away from the council at Castle Toldor.”

“It is amazing!” Isaac said in undertone.  Paul shook his head and leaned over to him.

“You should see the Golden Keep at Königlich.  It is very large and very, very old.  It is the grandest architecture left from the Imperial Age and in the world today.”

“Tell me, if you would,” Isaac responded, “but who is Lord Vaniir?”

“I am afraid I do not know,” Paul apologized. “I am unfamiliar with the workings and people of the Toldorum.”

“I do believe,” Beorwulf said, speaking up, “that our presence here has been noted with suspicion.”  He nodded in the direction of the walls.  More men had joined those already stationed, and they followed the group with their eyes.

“Hmmm…” Kendel mused, lips tight. “Don’t give any reason for trouble anyone.  I am sure they will be looking for an excuse to throw us out.”

They continued, circling around the large keep and moving on to the rest of the center of the city.  People bustled more busily here, more noble characters and farmers alike.

“Unfortunately, we will all have to find board here in the town.  It would be more prudent to make camp a decent distance away from the town, but our supplies are lower than desirable and we need to restock,” Kendel announced. “There is a suitable inn outside the inner wall on the other side of town.”

They passed through the gates on the other side of the wall, and the guards visibly relaxed with their passing.  The group settled in their horses and wagons in the stable and moved on to the inn.  Isaac, still nervous with the concept of a mass gathering place for strangers, shifted his gaze from person to person.  A man across the street watched the group as they milled into the inn, unconcerned with Isaac’s probing.  On afterthought Isaac chuckled at the man’s hat: an unfamiliar affair with a long feather poking from it.  Then Isaac’s view was cut off and he entered the inn.

 

A short, little man sat in a corner watching the room before him.  A black bandanna covered his right eye – or more specifically the right eye that wasn’t there.  There was a pipe clamped between his jaws upon which he puffed with great vigor despite his inattentiveness to it.  His focus lay on other occupants in the room.

He rolled a coin in his hand as he watched the opposite side of the room.  A large group sat huddled together most of them giving suspicious glares at everyone else, including the man himself.  These were the people, he was sure – the ones he had been told to watch for.  Most of them had arrived wearing blue hooded capes, tattered ones just like the man who employed him had said.  This was promising.

Not only that, but such an unlikely traveling company had never been organized before.  There sat an old hermit of a man, secluding himself from his companions; a trio of youth – the oldest only seventeen or so – huddled together, oblivious to the others; a strong, fearsome looking man, a middle-aged, stern one, a stout foreigner, and a woman who appeared as though she could be an heiress to a throne all spoke together, apparently on a serious matter; three young men, another old man, and a veritable bear laughed and joked together – although the old one and one of the younger seemed to be fairly uncomfortable with their surroundings; two more men sat together, pointing out different people around the room to each other; lastly, a strangely small man, not much larger than a child, sat at the edge of the group with his back to the wall, toying with a knife.  This last individual occasionally glanced at the man in turn.

The man gripped the coin tightly – he was decided.  These were the people he was looking for.  He stood and trotted from the room, drawing eyes from the people of the strange group.  Marching through the cooling air, he entered the stables and made his way to the back.  A saddled horse greeted him, as well as a tall, shady man.

“They are here, Gunther,” the short man barked. “It is them for sure.  I saw them.  If they weren’t who they are, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Are you sure?” the taller man – Gunther – insisted quietly. “Remember, our friend warned us not to falsely testify.”

“I am sure!” the shorter man said. “Who in blazes else could they be?  Get on your horse and go tell him!”  Gunther did not move.

“If you are so sure, you go and tell him.  Your judgment has been shaky in the past – prove you have confidence in yourself and you take the news!”  The shorter man glared at Gunther, grinding down on his pipe.

“Why me?  He likes you better – he is less likely to do you harm then me,” the man said.

“I’ll tell you why,” Gunther replied, standing.  “If you go, then it is even less likely that he will harm me.  Go on!  The messenger is supposed to be the one bearing the message.”  Gunther grabbed the other man’s shoulder and threw him toward the horse.

“I won’t!” the man said.   Gunther responded immediately by drawing a knife from inside his jacket.

“Take your pick, Gritch,” Gunther said. “Potential harm at the hands of him, or certain harm at the hands of me.”  The short man, Gritch, threw his pipe on the ground in rage.  “There is a lot of money in it for me, Gritch.  More than he gave us up front.  If I have to, I’ll do you away and take yours.”

“Devils take you, Gunther!” Gritch said.  He climbed onto the horse and galloped off into the night.

Gunther watched him go, replacing his knife.  He turned and picked up Gritch’s pipe, smiling.  He looked back at the retreating horse, wiping off the pipe and sticking it in his mouth.  He chuckled, opening his other hand.  A gold coin reflected the moonlight greedily.  Gunther pocketed it, reached down and picked up his hat – a foreign affair with  a long feather stuck in it – and walked into the inn.

 

The group didn’t linger long at the inn, which was fine by Isaac.  He was only too pleased when Kendel lead them out to the wagons.  She gave assignments to a few of the group to purchase the supplies they needed – tasking only those familiar with the Toldorum markets.  (These did not include – much to Wallace and William’s amusement – Isaac, though he was the only Toldor in the group.)

Isaac saddled up Mountain, patting the well-behaved horse’s mane.  Kendel walked over and ran her hand over the horse’s nose.

“Hello, Mountain,” Kendel said.  She turned to Isaac.  “This is a very old horse, Isaac.  Your father rode him in his younger years.  In fact, he was only your age when he purchased this horse from my grandfather.  Grandfather was a horse breeder, and he and Grandmother bred the finest.  Mountain is one of the finest of those.”  Isaac looked at Mountain with amazement.

“I didn’t know that he was so old,” he responded. “I might not have brought him along.”  Kendel smiled.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said. “Mountain will probably outlive you.  I did say that Grandfather bred the finest.  Besides, this type of thing is what Mountain always did: he carried your father to all his adventures.  The two of them – plus Camron – traveled almost the entire world together – exploring, searching treasures and mysteries, hunting down telums, and in general bettering the world.

“I suspect that Mountain has been missing the exciting life he had before.  Walter acclimated easily enough with his wife and children.  I think Camron was ready to settle down, too.  But Mountain… he has the spirit of the mountains – set in his ways, so to speak.  I think he is enjoying himself.”

Isaac looked at the horse with new-found intrigue.  The old horse looked back at him.

“Did you know my father well?” Isaac asked.  Kendel’s smile shrank a bit.

“Yes, I did, coincidentally,” she replied. “It seemed our paths always brought us together some way or other…”

Isaac waited for her to say more, but they were interrupted by Beorwulf.

“Kendel!” he called. “We have all our supplies restocked – including the dry beans and rice – and we are ready to leave.”

“Good,” Kendel replied. “Mount up!”  The group climbed onto their horses.

Isaac looked down at Barley.  The big, white dog looked back.  Isaac rubbed his head and said, “How about you, Barley?  Did you know Kendel?”  Barley barked and his tail wagged, a doggish smile on his face.

 

They traveled further – down another long road.  They passed only a very few travelers, and Kendel stopped each one to ask if any suspicious persons had passed them.  The answer always came to be negative.

 

A few days down the road, Isaac noticed that they were being followed.  It first came as a strange feeling of being watched – but not in a way that seemed hostile, but almost familiar.  Eventually, Isaac caught glimpses of a person or persons moving through the trees around them.  It seemed that he was the only one to notice them, but he noticed that Kendel too was paying unusual attention to the forest as well.

That night, Isaac asked her who the people he saw were.

“They are the forest dwellers – a wild people who live close to nature,” she replied, seeming a little disturbed.  That is all she would tell him.

Isaac continued to see them.  He couldn’t tell who they were or if they really were “they” rather than “he” or “she”.  But each time, he got a better and better look as though they were willfully showing themselves to him and only him.

Finally, he got a look at one of them.  It was a woman, standing back in the trees obscured by shadow and the leaves of trees.  The only thing he could see clearly were her eyes, seeming to shine as they looked into his.

 

A lone rider came to a stop in the center of a small village, halting before a small boarding house – though small, it was the only accommodations in the tiny town.  A man in the house looked out at the newcomer.  He picked up a lantern and exited the building to meet him.

The rider dismounted slowly and tiredly as the man walked up to him, holding the lantern high.

“Who are you?” the man demanded.  The rider, a decidedly short and   short-tempered man turned around.

“I’m Gritch!  What’s it to you?” came the answer.

“Gritch, eh?  You are expected.  Come with me,” the man said.  The two walked down the street, through an alleyway, out of the town and directly into the trees.  Here, a campsite had been set up.  Fifty men in a campsite spread between the trees.  The two passed to the far side of the camp, where a great black tent stood.  The leading man knocked on the post outside it.

“Excuse me, lord,” he said. “There is news for you.”

 

“And shoot!”  Isaac turned around, drawing his bow as he did so, and fired an arrow into a target partially obscured by the poor dusk light.  He frowned.  The arrow had struck the side.  Well, at least he had hit the target that time.

“Better,” Kendel said. “Don’t forget that this is a skill you will likely need.  You never know, particularly when hunting telums, when you will hear something behind you and need to shoot it and hit it before is does so to you.  Shoot!”  Isaac pivoted, drew back an arrow, and shot into the target behind him.  Again, the arrow only barely hit the target.  Caleb, Kendel’s assistant at the moment, moved the original target to a different spot behind Isaac.

“You are progressing well, though,” Kendel said, pleased. “You grasp the mechanics of a bow well enough to adjust to different situations well enough.  Shoot!”  Isaac turned, but he wasn’t expecting the command as he had been temporarily caught up in the praise.  The arrow flew wide.

“However, you must be capable of dealing with surprises,” Kendel continued. “If you are expecting to be surprised – shoot! – then it isn’t actually a surprise at all, is it.”  The arrow fell short of the target.

“Indeed,” Isaac replied meekly.

“However, it is better to be the one surprising others,” Kendel added. “The advantage is always with the attacker.”  Isaac’s brow furrowed.

“Kendel, is it actually likely that I will have to use these skills, particularly on people?” Isaac said.  A distant look crossed Kendel’s face before she replied.

“With our endeavor currently pushing us to overtake and detain a respectably hostile force, it would seem logical to assume that fighting will result,” Kendel answered.

“But is it likely that I will have to attack others?” Isaac said.  Kendel’s face grew serious.

“That depends on why you are here,” Kendel replied. “If you are here to personally defend the honor of your father, then it is unavoidable for you to use these abilities.  If you are here merely to observe the criminals receive their justice, then it would depend on your willingness to take another man’s life – whether in anger, in cold-blood, or in necessity.  If it is any other reason, then you should not be here right now.  Furthermore, if you are not willing to kill when necessary, you are nothing but a hindrance.”

“I will do what deem I must,” Isaac said carefully, “but I will take no pleasure in taking another man’s life.”  Kendel’s eyes softened.

“Only a monster would, Isaac – a vile beast such as a telum that must be killed for the same reasons as a rabid dog,” she said. “No good comes from such people.  But do remember,” Kendel added, her voice edged with steel again, “that killing a telum is not the same as killing another man.  A telum is better dead than alive, always.”

Silence hung for a while.  Even Caleb, who had been listening intently, was quiet.

“Was my father a killer?” Isaac asked.

“You may go, Caleb,” Kendel said.  Disappointed, the boy slowly trudged away.  Eventually he disappeared from sight.  Kendel snapped her fingers and pointed after him.  Her bobcat appeared and followed Caleb’s path, ensuring that he wouldn’t try to sneak back.

“Walter killed many men in his time, Isaac,” Kendel said. “But I would not call him a killer.”  Inwardly, Isaac’s heart fell at this news.  Kendel could see his dismay.

“Your father did many difficult things in his time.  He was set and determined to establish peace wherever he went.  His travels brought him to many dark lands that had many evil people, people who could only be practically, safely, or justly dealt with by killing them.  Walter did this, not because he enjoyed it, but because he knew that it needed to be done and he was the one capable of doing it.

“He enjoyed killing no more than you,” she continued, “but he was brave enough to do what was best.  You need not be ashamed of that.  Walter saved and protected more lives by far than those he took to do so.”

Mulling it over, Isaac was quiet for a time.  He didn’t like to think that his father had killed people, but he did – and had to – believe that he had killed for the right reasons.

“What do you know of my father?” Isaac asked.  Kendel pondered that for a few minutes more.

“I first met – or at least became aware of – your father when I was just a very small girl.  He came and stayed with my grandparents for a few days, looking over all of Grandfather’s horses to find one suited to him.  He was only a little older than you at the time.  Being only a child, I thought nothing of him then.

“As I aged, he was out in the world, out about in Le Osliad learning the skills of a Scalprus.  When I was just entering adulthood and training to be a Scalprus myself, I met a young man, an Iuvencus, under the instruction of Walter.  He would be Lance Crowley.  He and Walter didn’t get along very well and Crowley never did any good as an Iuvencus.  He was a fair hand at a few things, but eventually Crowley tired of the reclusive Scalprus life and Walter tired of Crowley.  Neither one of them was sorry to see the end of Crowley’s Scalprus career.

“In my last two years training as a Scalprus, my mentor, Riverton, was sent to a new Scalprus post in Gilead with the instructions to keep the peace of that particularly unstable area.  The two of us stayed there for only half a year before we were joined by other Scalpruses, Walter being one of them.

“Riverton and Walter were… not exactly friends, but they preferred each other as colleagues.  Whenever one had a trouble better dealt with two, they would usually call on the other, even though Walter was stationed to protect the town of Glaidael and Riverton to Fort Treaty in the other direction.  I became a fond of Walter then.  He was always so serious, but I saw an underlying humor that I liked.

“But only a half year later, the instabilities in Gilead erupted.  Riverton was one of the first to die.”  Kendel looked away, hiding her face from Isaac.  “At that time, Walter took over my training for my final year.

“It was a dark final year.  Gilead had been settled by the Toldorum Empire for nigh on a century by that point, and the feral beasts of the land razed the cities and drove out the fortunate and killed the rest.  Walter took a role of leadership, giving aid to those not well inclined to him or his council, leading the people of Glaidael and the city of Karildren out of Gilead.  He did his very best.

“As I said, his advice was not taken well.  It fell on ears that did not trust him; Sir Aldrich, Lord Beraimir, and Sir Collis – but his guidance eventually brought many people out of Gilead and saved many lives.”

Kendel stopped speaking for a while.  Isaac did not push her for more information, currently content with contemplating what she had already told him.  He had never heard that Gilead was unstable and he had certainly never heard that Walter had had a hand at leading Gilead’s inhabitants out of that land.

“That was how your father and mother met, you know,” Kendel said suddenly, smiling. “Your mother caught Walter’s eye shortly after Glaidael was evacuated, but he never had the courage to even speak with her.  It was Walter’s first – and only – romantic interest and he had no idea what to do with himself or with her.  So he did nothing.

“Fortunately for Walter… and for you as it happens, your mother grew to love the strange, mistrusted man who protected so many and lead them to safety.  Eventually, they came together and became very happy.”

“Do you ever recall Walter playing a mandolin?” Isaac asked, suddenly remembering Walter’s instrument.  Kendel laughed softly.

“Yes, I do remember that,” she said. “Your mother was good for Walter, I must say.  Before he met her, he was a stern, humorless, and imposing man… or at least he tried to be and he did it very well.  But when he met your mother, she softened his serious act and made him a more lighthearted individual.

“As for the mandolin, your mother softened Walter enough that he allowed Crowley to teach him to play the mandolin,” Kendel said. “I can’t say I approved of that myself, having developed a dislike for the mandolin, but your mother loved it.  I believe it amused her to see some remade ruffian mountaineer play music for her.”  Isaac chuckled.

“Walter didn’t play much.  I actually only heard him sing and play that mandolin a few times in the past few years,” he commented.

“I would not say that Walter was a musically inclined man,” Kendel said. “He was a great many things, and great at each of those many, but he was not a musician.”

 

“Enter,” a voice inside the black tent ordered.  The man with the lantern motioned for Gritch to enter.  Wringing his hands nervously, Gritch pushed aside the flap of the tent and entered.

It was roomy enough inside, but it felt crowded; four men were already inside as Gritch entered – a tall man and a shorter man both in black leather standing at the foot of a cot on which sat another man in a black cloak, his face covered.  The other man stood at the head of the tent near Gritch, also a tall man, wearing a light green cape and sword at his hip.

“Gritch,” the cloaked man said. “I hope that your arrival is indicative of the only news I wished to hear from you.”  Gritch cleared his throat loudly.

“It is, my lord,” Gritch answered. “The group you described, the blue cloaked men, many different ages and from many different lands – yes, I have seen them.”

“Where?”

“They were in Racalos when I left last night, and I’ve been riding hard to get here since then,” Gritch said. “If they are coming this way, assuming they continued this morning, they could be here tomorrow night.”

“How many of them are there?” the cloaked man demanded quietly.

“There are seventeen, lord,” Gritch replied. “Three of them are very young, though, no older than seventeen.  Two of them are old men.  The rest vary in age and stature.  And not all of them wore the blue cloaks.”  The black cloaked man looked up sharply at this.

“Explain!” he ordered.  Gritch quailed at the harshness of the command.

“Four of them do not wear the cloaks.  One is a bearish man, somewhere near seven feet tall,” Gritch described. “Another is a strong, tall man who appears to be a Hanidier.  One is a weedy, older man, fearful type.  The last is a very small man, nary four and a half feet tall, but he has a cunning look around him.”

“Leave us,” the cloaked man ordered.  Gritch hesitated.

“The payment, my lord?” he inquired tentatively.  The man with the green cape grasped his shoulder, thrusting him from the tent.

“Your payment will come with the proof of the truth of your words,” the cloaked man responded as Gritch stumbled from view.  The other three men looked at him.  The cloaked man was silent, thinking.

“Seventeen men… some Scalpruses, but of them three Iuvenci…” he said to himself. “A bearish man… a Berian no doubt… a very small man?  Look of cunning…”

“Excuse me, lord,” the green caped man interrupted. “What of the Scalpruses?  Do you know which they could be?”  The cloaked man shook his head.

“They all wear the same garb; it would be impossible for a simple-headed man like Gritch to tell them apart,” he answered. “But in the defense of such a figurehead as Walter Siliad, I can only imagine their champion Beorwulf heads off their troop.”  These last words were delivered with the slightest shift in posture.

“Seventeen men – no, only fourteen and three youths,” the black cloaked man said. “And we have here fifty men to our disposal.  Though Scalpruses they be, they be merely men.  And if they pursue us, they will pursue us here, to this small, insignificant outpost.

“Tomorrow, we will continue on.  We will leave thirty of our men to ambush these meddling Scalpruses and wipe them from out trail,” the telum said. “Kadvar – Jekses,” he continued, addressing the men in black leather, “you will remain.  Organize the ambush, see to it that it is a successful one, and then report to me the results.”  Kadvar and Jekses, both nodded curtly.

“Captain,” the telum said, now speaking to the green caped man, “go inform our men that we leave tomorrow and select thirty of your most capable ambushers and fighters to remain.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, exiting.

 

Chapter XI

The land was becoming unfamiliar to Isaac.  He had never been out of Gilead before, but until this point, he has still been surrounded by mountains.  Now, after they had left Racalos, he found that there were only mountains some distance off to the east, and to the north, south, and west, he could only see more or less flat ground.

“It reminds me of home,” Paul said. “The grassy hills amid the tight forest… the mountains are too close, but it looks very similar.  The trees are different though.  These are mostly firs; at home most of the trees are pines.  Pine is good lumber wood.  Every year, a number of loggers would come to our small town and cut down the biggest, strongest trees.”

“In my homeland, the trees reach to the sky and the trunks are wider than a house,” Bunoby said suddenly.  Isaac started, never having heard the short, old man speak before.

“In Nianom, every manner of tree grows in abundance,” Gregor said. “Firs, pines, maple, oak, fruit trees, ebony, and I know even of one such tree that reaches the sky.

“A tree that reaches the sky?” Isaac said in disbelief. “I have never heard tell of such a tree, and I have difficulty believing one could exist.”  Gregor looked at him intently.

“I have seen it with my own eyes, many times.  Do you doubt the things I saw?” he said.  Isaac wavered uncertainly.  The old man seemed to be sure of what he was saying, but Isaac still could not comprehend one’s existence.

“You have lived a very small life, Isaac Siliad,” Gregor said. “You have never been beyond the confines of Gilead.  There are many things which may seem strange to you that are common to so many others.”

Isaac looked to his friends for defense, but they looked between him and Gregor, as unsure as he how to react.

“I have also seen the tree Gregor speaks of,” Bert said, not looking at Isaac. “It is taller than ten trees, with branches that cast an acre of shadow on the ground.  It stands at the end of a high mountain lake in Nianom.”  Isaac looked at the ground, subdued.  Gregor nodded with satisfaction.

“Where we lived,” Wallace said. “We could see the spires of Seni Turres reaching into the sky higher than the eye can see.”

Curiosity piqued, Isaac inquired, “What is Seni Turres?”  William, Wallace, and even Harrison, riding some distance away, turned and looked at him in amazement.

“You have never heard of Seni Turres?” William demanded.  Harrison nudged his horse closer to them.

“Seni Turres are seven stone spires that rise above the clouds forever upward.  They are the greatest and most ancient relics of the world; the throne of the prophetess diviner of Dathia,” Harrison said proudly.

“Only fools need a king or queen,” Bunoby said harshly. “In Drumdadom, there are no kings, no governments, and no organizations.  They are only necessary for those too weak to thrive off of the natural world around us.”

“I agree with Bunoby,” Bert said, looking back at them all from his seat in the wagon. “For a thousand years, the Berian people and the Saravian people lived peacefully in harmony and solitude with nature.  Unrest among people first began with the splitting of the Saravians three ways; the Saravians, the High Sara, and the Jagrians.  The High Sara pushed many Berians out of their lands to build their nations and cities.  The Jagrians banded together in tribes and clans and have since competed with the Berians for control of lands.  The result… the High Sara do not exist anymore and the Jagrians are despised by the world.”

“But what about the nations that have been strong for hundreds of years and will last much longer still?” Paul said skeptically. “The Hanidier Empire is mighty and will not fall.  It is too established and too ancient.”

Tulgas laughed from his place next to Bert.  “I am afraid not, Paul.  I have read the libraries of Königlich and read the histories of the past nations of men.  The first were as Bert said, the Berians and Saravians.  Then came the rise and fall of great High Sara kingdoms – greater kingdoms than even Hanidier.  Following their fall came the rise of the nations of common men.

“You can look at a map of our world and see that over half of it does not have established nations or great kingdoms.  Most of it is uncharted, unfamiliar land that few live in.  Centuries upon centuries ago, all lands were populated with people and with countries, except for Gashniin.  Now look… only a few of the old ones remain.  Rosiyi, Gerichone, Assaillane, Lialmin, Nianom, and waning Senkaega.  Of today’s great ones – Hanidier, Dathia, Assaillane, Gerichone, Toldorum, and Rosiyi – three are young and all of them are fading.

“Look at Toldorum; only a dozen or so years have passed since the Toldorum lost control of Gilead.  Now the only people who live there are the Siliads and a few others.  Look at Rosiyi; it is undergoing reoccurring civil wars as its rulership changes hands.  Look at Gerichone.  They are running dry, turning into smaller provinces.  Even look at our own Hanidier, Paul; the peoples of Hanidier are few anymore.  Nianom… its government has lost standing with the rest of the world.  It is only a matter of time before it disbands.  The ancestral lands of Lialmin, Enclodor, and Doshchlan are diminishing.  Enclodor used to be the shining star of the world, and Doshchlan; the iron wall.  Now, they are nothing more than a small land each inhabited by a people from another age.

“And who remains?  The Berians of old are unchanged.  The Saravians are unchanged.  And they have existed forever.  The only house of man that will remain in the end is the Hall of Cakadem,” Tulgas finished.

“You think that no one will walk these lands in the years to come,” Harrison scoffed.

“No, I believe that organized civilization will cease to exist in most lands,” Tulgas said. “I imagine that individuals or families like the Siliads may live in solitude abroad these lands, but I do not believe that royalty will preside over them.”

“Only the weak allow themselves to be ruled over,” Bunoby agreed.

 

They did not encounter any travelers during the two days after leaving Racalos.  Isaac commented questioningly on this, since he had grown accustomed to stopping the relatively frequent wandering people and asking them indirectly about the telum they followed.  Kendel told him that this was a less important road that led farther away from the heart of the Toldorum Empire and toward the vastly unpopulated wilderness between the Toldorum Empire and Vlaenrome.  Few people came this way.  Isaac also found it interesting to learn from her that this road crossed the old boundaries of the ancient kingdoms of Strovicdor and Kovicstan, and the current inhabitants of the two territories still felt varying degrees of animosity.

It was approaching sunset when a small settlement came to view from around a hill.  Isaac surprised himself by classifying it as small.  Before he had left Gilead, he had judged the six Jemry cabins to be a sprawling city.  Now this collection of ten buildings seemed hardly worth paying attention to.

“It would be wisest to go through all together, Kendel,” Beorwulf said. “Anyone who would care would find it suspicious for several different groups of people to suddenly pass through.  That would attract too much attention.”

“I agree,” Kendel said. “But I want us to appear as conspicuous as possible.”  She paused and looked over the group.  “Isaac, Paul, Raymond, Caleb – take off your cloaks.  The rest of you, leave them on so that it is less apparent that you are Pathians.”  James coughed nervously.

“Ah, Kendel, what about me?” he asked.  Kendel looked at him carefully.

“Isaac, give James your cloak,” she ordered.  Isaac obeyed, but hesitantly, because he was under the understanding that James was not a foreigner, but was a Toldor despite being a scrawny man.

The group of them passed through a grove of trees, and then the road passed between the houses.  The hair on the back of Isaac’s neck abruptly stood on end; simultaneously Barley began growling and both James and the spotted horse he rode shied backward.  Mountain tossed his head.  For some reason Isaac could not explain, the small village they had just entered bore an uncanny resemblance to Glaidael back in Gilead.  And it seemed that Barley, Mountain, James, and his horse had similar feelings.

Isaac glanced at Kendel.  She sat stiff on her horse, her eyes wide.  Her mouth opened slowly in surprise.  The bobcat behind her crouched with ears flattened.

“Where is everyone?” Beorwulf wondered aloud, sweeping his eyes over the empty road and dark, curtained windows.  He slowed his horse, proceeding forward cautiously.  The rest followed his lead, each one searching the houses around them.

“Beorwulf, something is wrong,” Kendel said.  Isaac was surprised to hear that her voice was full of shock and concern.  Beorwulf nodded.

“I agree, something is not right,” he said with low tone.  Wallace’s voice unexpectedly rang out.

“Look there!” he cried. “Someone just pulled away from that window!”  Immediately following his words, the shouts of a large host of men arose and the doors of the nearest buildings burst open.  Isaac recoiled in horror as some thirty armed and ferocious men charged at the group of them.

The first of the group to react was Vasilias, Beorwulf’s great, gold mastiff.  With a heaving bound, he leapt on one of the leading men and began attacking him savagely.  A second after that, the seventeen of them jumped to their own defense.

Kendel’s bow seemingly appeared in her hands, arrow already notched.  She let the shaft fly, sending it on a short and deadly flight into the center of one of the men’s chest.  Isaac flinched when he glimpsed her face.  Normally, it was serious while still retaining a degree of gentle nature, but now her lips curled in a slight snarl, her eyes burning a cold fury.

Isaac looked over his shoulder, at the men approaching from that side.  He saw William and Wallace.  No hint of their usual good humor remained.  They bore each an almost cynical expression as they fired their bows, felling another two men.

Paul’s grin had been replaced by a harsh shout as he slew yet another man with an arrow.  The opposite was true for Mia as Isaac saw her; her usual sneer now was a wickedly pleased smile immediately followed by an arrow planted between the eyes of a large brute wielding a huge ax.  Raymond’s face was calm as he dropped a man to his knees with a shot to his shoulder.  A small, wavering smile played Harrison’s lips as another man died at his hand.  Gregor and Bunoby faced opposite directions, each piercing a man’s heart with a cruel arrow.  Beorwulf and Jason both bore a calculating look as they, too, sent a man apiece to his grave.

A man charged toward Isaac, the sweat on his face glistening and the sword in his hand held high, ready to kill him.  Isaac drew his bow back, ready to release.  Then it hit him what he was about to do.  Kill another man?  How could he do that?  He hesitated in turmoil and lowered the bow.

The man yelled wordlessly and swung the sword.  Mountain reared up suddenly with an angry whinny.  He lashed out, striking the man’s head with a hoof.  The man dropped his weapon and collapsed to the ground, tripping one of his comrades.  He lay still.

Mountain shied away from the approaching men.  The Scalpruses dropped their bows and drew blades, holding them high.  Then the two groups collided.

Tulgas jumped from the wagon, broadsword in hand, and brought the weapon down in an arcing lash, cleaving a man, killing him immediately.  Bert lashed out with a huge fist, the force of the blow lifting the man foolish enough to be the first to fight the Berian off his feet and sending him crashing among his fellows.  Jagral sprang from the back of the wagon, spear ready, soaring high through the air, well above the heads of those below; he came down like a bolt of lightning, spear stabbing the man below him through.  Pulling the weapon free, Jagral proceeded to unleash a terrible flurry of slashes, stabs, and hooking blows to all the men around him, easily, and effectively, occupying at least four of their attackers.  Jagral’s weapons included his hands and feet as well as his spear.  Even James, a quiet and fearful man joined the fray, a knife in hand and a feral expression – a man changed him with a large club, but James ducked under his blow and buried the knife in the hollow below the man’s chest.

The dogs of the group also participated in the battle.  Beorwulf’s mastiff stood over a man he had mauled.  Kyu, the malamute explosively collided with a man, sending him sprawling, before thrashing him with his teeth.  The smaller dogs surrounded individual men and tackled them.  Even fearful Barley pounced into the air, biting and intercepting an arm about to slash a sword into Wallace’s cocker spaniel.

Isaac watched as Kendel jumped from her horse, two daggers in hand.  A man swung his sword, but Kendel deftly swayed to the left, past the blow, and in close to the man.  She stabbed him in the gut with her right and then slashed his face with the left, finishing him with a stab below his throat with the right.

 

Jekses watched the scene unfolding before with disbelief.  Here, his men had outnumbered the Scalpruses nearly two to one and in only a few seconds, seventeen of the men lay dead on the ground.  Even the Iuvenci had slain some.  He edged farther into the trees from which he was concealed.

One of the Scalpruses, a tall, powerful man turned in Jekses’s direction.  The assassin started.  The telum had been correct; it was the infamous Beorwulf.  Jekses strode from the trees, drawing a black arrow back in his bow.  He aimed briefly and let fly.

 

A dark arrow unexpectedly appeared, flashing toward Beorwulf, who had just slashed a man with his sword and had not seen it.  But Jagral had.  Isaac watched with amazement as Jagral vaulted on his spear over the heads of his attackers (of which only two remained) and landed on Beorwulf’s shoulders.  Beorwulf stumbled and the arrow whistled past, striking another man who had been about to smite Caleb from his horse.

Isaac looked toward the source of the arrow just in time to see a black dressed man run into the trees.  A wild anger boiled inside him.  He spurred Mountain forward, charging after the telum as he was sure he was.

Isaac barreled through the trees, crashing through into a meadow.  The black dressed man was running for a horse standing in the middle of it.  Isaac stopped Mountain and nocked an arrow.

The man looked over his shoulder and seeing Isaac taking aim, whipped around, his own bow in hand.

Again, Isaac hesitated, the words of Gabriel suddenly entering his mind: “Do you want to kill the man?”  Could Isaac kill this man, despite his crimes and Kendel’s council to kill any telum.  Isaac could not do it.  A second after making that decision, he wished he had not; he could see in his adversary’s eyes that he had not misgivings about killing Isaac.

The black arrow sprang.  Isaac dived off of Mountain, and hit the ground, surprised to find that he was still alive.  He looked up.  The arrow had flow wide, whistling through the air on a pointless course.  The man had fallen to the ground, a silver arrow in his chest.

Kendel stood at the edge of the trees, bow lowering in her hand.  Isaac stood, looking back at the man who had just been about to kill him.  He looked back at Kendel; she looked at him.  A strange fear was slowly fading from her eyes.

“Thank you,” Isaac croaked, his throat suddenly dry.  Kendel dropped her bow and ran to Isaac, looking him over intently.  She stepped back.

“You are very fortunate,” she said angrily. “A trained assassin such as he – one more second and he would have killed you.  You could have shot him!  You nearly cost yourself your life.”

“I’m sorry, Kendel,” Isaac replied. “I couldn’t do it.  I can’t just kill a man, even if he is a telum.”  Kendel shook her head.

“No man’s life is worth more that your own, is it?” Kendel said. “And that was not a telum.”  Isaac looked sharply at her.

“He wasn’t?”  Kendel shook her head.

“He used a bow instead of a crossbow and he didn’t have the standard black cloak,” she explained. “He is merely a servant of a telum, which proves a telum is who we are after.”  Kendel looked at him, her eyes hard.

“Isaac, you have proven yourself a liability,” she said. “You have proven you are incapable of defending yourself.  You must learn to keep yourself alive, Isaac.  If you wish to remain with us, you must learn to kill those who would do the same to you.”

 

Kadvar watched from his own hiding place, flinching as one of the accursed Scalpruses killed Jekses.  She was within range of his bow, just barely.  He itched to send an arrow into her back, but even if he succeeded, the other Scalpruses were fanning out as the remainder of his men fled, and they would find him if he did not leave immediately.  Evoking the blackest curses of Astennen, he retreated, mounting his horse, and vanishing into the forest.

 

Isaac was astounded to find that no one of their group was injured or even slightly hurt.  This feat included the dogs.  On the other hand, some twenty or more of the men that had attacked them lay strewn over the road.

Beorwulf went among the bodies of the men, rolling some onto their backs.  He examined them closely.

“They are Assaillanes,” he announced. “Ruffians.  Thugs.  The common Assaillane man.”

“No one ever said that a telum had good woodcraft,” Jason said.

“What are we going to do about the ones who escaped,” Gregor asked.  Kendel looked into the trees.

“I’m not sure…” she said. “It would be tedious to hunt them down; I doubt they will have the motivation to bother us anymore.  Then again, it is possible they may rendezvous with the telum and whatever company he may be with.”

“We must not be far behind them at this point,” Jason noted. “At speed, it is possible we could catch them by tomorrow.”

“We should leave immediately,” Beorwulf agreed. “The telum must know that we are behind him.  Otherwise he would have never left an ambush for us.  He has an informant.”

“That is unfortunate,” Kendel said. “He will be making great haste to avoid us.  In order to catch him, we will have to move quickly.”

“The light fades,” Bunoby said. “He will be moving tonight to get as far from us as possible.  If we are to catch him, we will have to do likewise.”

“Mount up!” Kendel ordered.  The seventeen of them jumped onto horse and wagon.  “Twenty dead here; the telum cannot have too many more to his disposal.”

 

They rode hard, halfway through the night, but still did not catch up with the telum.  Kendel called off their pursuit as fatigue among them grew.

 

Twenty-three men rode at a hurried pace through the darkness, their horses panting slightly from the exertion.  At the head, Captain rode, followed closely by the telum, and behind them twenty enlisted Assaillanes and one dejected Toldor, Gritch, who had decided keeping his employer and money within sight of his one eye.

The sound of a galloping horse overtook them.  With a command, the men halted and turned, forming a half-circle to meet the newcomer.  A dark man on a weary horse stopped before them.

“Declare yourself,” Captain ordered.  The man replied,

“It is Kadvar,” he said. “My lord, a number of Scalpruses are following us.  The ambush left to waylay them was unsuccessful.”

“Impossible!” Captain responded.  The telum made no sound, but gripped his reins tighter.

“A few of the men fled, but the rest were slain,” Kadvar continued. “None of their number was hurt.  Jekses was also killed.”

“There!  You see?  I was telling the truth!  I demand payment!” Gritch exclaimed heatedly.  The telum turned slowly to face him.”

“I strongly recommend,” he said coolly, “that you keep a more civil tongue in your head, for at my command, any one of these men would hack it off.”  Gritch shrunk in his saddle.

“My lord,” Gritch said more calmly. “You agreed to pay Gunther and I each a portion of gold for informing you of these men.  We have upheld our side of the bargain.  You owe payment.”

A long pause followed.  Captain and his men shifted restlessly, looking constantly back the way they had come, waiting for a troop of Scalpruses to fall upon them.  The telum stared at Gritch until the dirty Toldor began to quail.

The telum reached into his cloak and drew out two cloth pouches.  He held them in front of Gritch.

“Twenty gold coins each for your information,” he said. “But alas, Gunther does not appear to be here.”  Gritch stared feverishly at the bags, his hands jerking involuntarily in their direction.

“I’ll take him his portion!” Gritch stammered quickly.  His hands hovered above the small packets.

“I’m sure,” the telum said slowly. “Take it and let off to some distant place with a fortune.”  He dropped one sack.  Gritch caught it immediately, dumping the contents in his muddy hand.  Gold coins glinted, even in the dim light.

Gritch poked the pile hastily, counting the coins.

“If Gunther wants his money,” the telum said, stowing the second pouch back in his cloak, “he can come to me for it.”  Gritch watched the money disappear mournfully.  Then he slid the coins back in the bag, dropped the bag in his shirt, and kicked his horse’s flanks, galloping off down the road.

The telum watched him disappear before turning to his men.

“You,” he said to the Assaillanes. “You are all cutthroats and thugs, backstabbers and thieves.  You kill the unwary and rich in the shadows, take their belonging, and leave their bodies to the dogs.”  The men looked back at him, none the least bit bothered by the hard words directed at them.  They all knew they were true and had accepted them a long time ago.

“You specialize in surprise, attack from the shadows.  That is what you are going to do.  And this time, you will not fail.”

 

Chapter XII

Watch that night had been doubled.  Kendel had decided that since the telum had already staged one ambush, he would be likely to stage another, in which case they needed to be ready for it.  Two men, instead of the customary one, were assigned to the task at any given time.

Isaac awoke as William shook his shoulder.  Swinging out of his blankets, he picked up his bow and quiver from their usual place next to Barley under the cot.  He stood, threw on his cloak, gave Barley a nudge, and walked out into the night.

The lantern stood before the tent, waiting for him.  He picked it up and walked to the center of camp, Barley following behind.

He waited a moment.  The night was quiet aside from a wind rustling the leaves at the treetops.  His companion at watch had not arrived yet.  In the tree branches, Jagral sat, alert, watching Isaac.

A bobcat suddenly appeared at Isaac’s feet.  Barley growled at it.  Isaac looked to his left, and Kendel walked into the light of his lantern.

“Good evening,” he said as she stepped toward him.  To his confusion she did not stop approaching him, forcing him to step back to avoid colliding with her.  As he did, she lifted her hand level to his face.  She held a knife, the tip just an inch from his eyes.

“You weren’t ready for that,” she noted coldly.  Isaac pushed her hand aside.

“Nor did I expect it,” he responded angrily.  She tipped her head.

“Both unfortunate, particularly for you,” Kendel retorted. “You do realize that we are following a killer.

“You do realize that he doesn’t care who you are, only that you are his enemy.  He will kill you at the first opportunity.  And he will get that opportunity, if you remain with us, unless you kill him first.”

“I don’t have any desire to kill this man,” Isaac interrupted. “I wish to see him brought to justice, but I will not be his executioner.”  Kendel looked into his eyes unwavering.

“In that case, you may leave,” she said.  She straightened, looking levelly at him.  “We are in a fight with dangerous enemies.  In case you have not noticed, all of us fight, including Caleb, who is only a boy, and Gregor, who is an old man.

“We don’t need a body to defend just because he won’t do it himself.  If you are to remain, you must learn to kill our enemies like the rest of us have.”

The two stared at each other.  To Isaac it seemed that they fought a battle of wills and to Isaac it seemed that Kendel was winning.  He turned away with a snarl.

“Just kill, eh?” he scoffed. “Just kill a man, end his future, erase all that he has built up and learned his entire life?  Just that?  Only because he stands against me and with my enemy?”  Kendel did not answer, did not avert her gaze.

“How can I do that?” Isaac pleaded. “How do I have the right?”

“In this lawless world, he with the power to act has the power to determine his rights,” Kendel said.  She held out her knife.

“Take it,” she said.  Isaac stood still for a few breaths then ripped the blade from her hands.

“Good.  Now stab me with it.”  Isaac scowled and spread his hands.

“Be assured in my ability to stop your blow from landing,” Kendel added.  Her face was as blank as stone, her eyes full of fire.

Isaac shuffled toward her, blade raised.  He looked at Kendel and into her eyes.  He dropped the weapon and turned away, unable to strike at her.

“Pick it up,” Kendel ordered, stepping back. “Attack this.”  She lifted a block of firewood.  Isaac glanced between the wood and Kendel.  He took it.

Isaac slashed at the block, creating a large gash.  He struck it again.  And again.  He unleashed his frustration on the block.  Kendel’s knife was very sharp and cut the wood easily.  Isaac shredded the block into chips no larger than his finger.  All the while, Kendel stood watching him.

Isaac straightened, chest heaving as he surveyed the mess of wood shavings all around him.  Now he was angry.  Attacking the wood had done nothing to improve his mood.  He looked up at Kendel.

“Now attack me,” Kendel said.  Isaac shook his head, still unwilling to attempt to do her harm.

“Come on,” Kendel said. “You will not harm me; strike me.”  Isaac jabbed at her halfheartedly.  Kendel easily batted the knife from his hands, flinging it to the ground.

“Pick it up, at do it again… for real this time.”  Isaac bit his lip and stabbed again, this time harder.  Kendel brushed the attack aside and struck him brutally across the face, knocking him to the ground.  Isaac growled, stumbling to his feet, and he lunged for her.

He stabbed at her stomach, but she grabbed his wrist and dragged his arm across his body, throwing him to her right.  Isaac caught himself and struck again, slashing at her crosswise.  Again, she grabbed his wrist, this time twisting, causing him to trip and fall on his back.

Isaac rolled to his feet and stabbed her again.  She swept his blow away with her left hand and punched him across the jaw with her other.  Isaac stumbled back, rubbing his jaw, shocked.  Then his anger bubbled back up again and he charged back at the passive-faced woman before him.

Isaac attacked with a fury.  His blows adhered to no skill or science; in his anger, he only struck as hard as he could, trying to get past the impenetrable defense Kendel deflected his attacks with.  He slashed downward; Kendel caught his hand and hit him in the stomach.  Isaac stabbed at her face; she dragged him past her, striking his ribs as she did so.  Barley shrank back, watching his master’s furious onslaught. Isaac pounced, knife scything toward Kendel’s chest.  Kendel brushed aside the attack and punched him in the throat.

Isaac collapsed to the ground, coughing and choking.  His anger subsided again as shock returned.  He rolled across the ground in pain.

But as the pain subsided and his breath returned, so returned his rage.  Isaac stood slowly, panting hard.  He tightened his grip on the knife, desiring to have one blow land.

Kendel continued to watch him calmly as he approached.

Isaac leapt, stabbing at Kendel’s stomach.  To his surprise, Kendel made no move to stop the blow.  Isaac pulled back, but not until he had driven the knife half its length into Kendel’s midriff.

Isaac dropped the knife and looked at Kendel in confusion.  She did not move, but continued to look at him, tears in her eyes.

“Feel better?” she asked coldly.  Isaac did not respond, but his face said all his words.  He did not feel better; destroying the wood block and striking Kendel had not improved his mood.  In the slightest.  Now he only felt worse.

“Why?” he asked.  Kendel pressed a hand against her wound.

“You have learned that you can fight, and you have learned that fighting does not satisfy your anger.”  She withdrew her hand, which came away stained with blood.

“Aurum will keep watch in my place,” she said. “Good night, Isaac.”  Kendel stepped out of the lantern light.

“I won’t kill them, Kendel,” Isaac declared.  She disappeared.  Her bobcat leapt up on the wagon, sitting straight and surveying the forest around them.

Isaac looked around as well.  The surrounding forest was unchanged.  Jagral still sat in the tree, still watching Isaac.  Isaac scowled and pulled his hood lower over his face, tired of having people watch him.

 

“Eight miles ahead of us, there is a fork in this road,” the telum said. “The left hand fork goes off to Impri.  The right hand fork goes to Laydor.  As you know, a ship waits for us in Laydor.

“You men will set an ambush one mile down the left hand fork.  The Scalpruses will be lured into your ambush by Kadvar, who will be wearing my cloak and will be riding my horse.  He will be accompanied by four of you.  They will wait a half mile ahead of the fork, and on sight of the Scalpruses, they will gallop off toward your ambush.  Catch them there, and kill them all.

“In the meantime,” continued the telum, “I will ride down the right fork with three men, on Kadvar’s horse and wearing Kadvar’s clothes.

“Captain!” the telum said, turning to the green caped man. “Select your stealthiest burglar; he will hide at the fork in the road and tell me whether or not the Scalpruses are fooled by the diversion.  Am I understood?”  The men all growled assent.

“Let’s be off!” Captain shouted.  The group set off again, their horses snorting.

The telum motioned for Kadvar to ride next to him.  Whispering so only the assassin could hear, he said, “These dumb fools cannot be trusted to execute this diversion successfully.  We two are going to have to fool them as well as the Scalpruses.  You will go down the right side fork; take whatever men are left after the ambush with you if you can.  They will think that you are I and that I am you.  The man hiding to tell ‘me’ of the results of the ambush will almost definitely be spotted and will raise the suspicion for the Scalpruses that the ambush was a diversion.  They will be redirected back down the right side fork.  I will be riding down the left side fork.”

“That is a good plan, my lord,” Kadvar mused thoughtfully. “When I reach Laydor, shall I wait for you there?”

“No,” said the telum. “Take the ship down to Vanish; I will meet you there.”

“Will you go alone?”

“No.  Captain will come with me.”

 

The next morning Isaac rose early.  His mood was foul, still angry about the happenings of the night before.  He built a fire over last nights coals and sat in front of it.

He heard footsteps on the grassy floor.  Isaac turned toward the sound.  It was James.

“Good morning,” James said.

“Good morning, James,” Isaac huffed.  James glanced at him, then at the ground.

He picked up Kendel’s knife from where Isaac had dropped it.  He inspected the splattered blood semi-dried on it.  Isaac waited for his questions.

“I saw your fight with Kendel,” he said at length. “Don’t be angry with her.  She is trying to teach you an important lesson.  You have the power and capability to become a great warrior, but the most important part of fighting is to know when to fight, who to fight, and for what reason.  And what she taught you is what it feels like to fight someone for the wrong reason.”

“I don’t want to be a killer, James,” Isaac said.  James didn’t respond.

“Son of Gilead,” the other man said suddenly, “you were born and raised in Gilead under the shadows of the wolf mountains.  I would go to greater lengths to control your temper if I were you.  For your own good.”  He said this as though with a familiarity of the consequences for neglecting to control himself.

With those words, he stood, leaving Isaac to wonder over what he meant.

 

They set out again, moving as fast as Bert’s wagon would allow, to make up for lost ground on the telum.  The sky overhead was growing dark with the gathering of large storm clouds.  They had scarcely gone three miles before the thunderheads opened, pouring rain down on the seventeen of them.

Lightning flashed above them and thunder rocked the trees.  Isaac felt that it was a foreboding way to charge headlong after a murderous telum and his troop of followers.  His companions looked grim as well.  Wallace and William did not smile like they usually did.  Jagral was not asleep in the wagon like usual; he stood in the back with his spear at his side.  Paul licked his lips nervously.  Kendel gazed straight ahead, showing no sign that she was injured.  Bert sat at the front of his wagon as usual, but he had an ax lying across his knees.

The horses breathed heavily as they charged.  The wagon rattled loudly as it bounced over the uneven road.

The group of them corner.  Suddenly, ahead of them, five shadowy men on horses stood.  They were only silhouettes in the dim light, but Isaac could distinguish a long black cloak on one of them.  Their five heads turned in the direction of the approaching Scalpruses.  Then they snapped their reigns and galloped down the road.

“Get them!” Beorwulf roared.  With a shout the Scalpruses spurred their horses into gallops as well.  They left the slower wagon behind and the thirteen of them raced after the fleeing telum.

The five men ahead of them stayed just barely within sight as they fled.  A fork appeared in the road and the five horsemen charged down the left side.

As they ran further, the Scalpruses became further distanced from each other.  Kendel was at the lead, followed by Beorwulf, who was closely followed by Isaac.  Just behind him was Jason.  The rest, with horses not as strong were strung out like a long tail.

The five riders were losing ground now.  The Scalpruses were gaining.  Then abruptly, the forest around them erupted in yells as Assaillane men charged from the trees.

The response was immediate.  Beorwulf stopped his horse and shot killed one of the charging men with an arrow to the heart.  But the rest didn’t have as much time to respond as they had had in the last ambush.  The men were upon them.

Isaac became lost in the confusion.  In the poor light it was nearly impossible to determine friend from foe.  He drew his sword.

A sword flashed toward him.  Isaac parried it and kicked his attacker with a yell.  The man fell back.  Isaac kicked Mountain’s flanks.  The horse spun around and brushed the ambushers aside as he leapt out of the middle of the fray.

Something heavy struck the side of Isaac’s head, throwing him off Mountain’s back.  He struck the ground, dazed.  He heard running feet splashing through the mud toward him.  He rolled on his back.  One of the attackers stood over him, yelling in some strange language, swinging an ax down on Isaac.  Frantically, Isaac rolled to the side.

Jagral’s spear suddenly slammed into the man’s chest.   The man was knocked backward, killed immediately.   The ax veered aside, and Isaac clambered to his feet.  All around, his friends and the Assaillanes scuffled with each other.

Another Assaillane ran at Isaac.  His sword glinted as lightning flashed overhead.  The man swung.  Isaac parried it, dancing back.  The man lunged with a jab that Isaac barely managed to bash aside.  Grimly, Isaac recollected his conflict with Kendel only hours before, but that thought fled his mind as he focused on not getting cut in half.

Elsewhere, Tulgas was having better luck than Isaac, or at least better skill.  Deftly, the Hanidier parried an attack.   He struck.  His blade delivered a devastating blow that flung the weapon from his enemy’s hand.   Tulgas stabbed him through the chest.

Bert, on the other hand, was too big and strong to be hindered by the Assaillanes.  He swung mightily with the back of his ax.  The blow broke several bones in an ambusher’s head and neck and tossed his dead body through the trees.

Isaac deflected another attack, but he could tell that he was in trouble.  His lessons on swordplay had been few and he was not very good with the weapon yet.  His attacker, on the other hand, seemed to be very familiar with the weapon and clearly had the upper hand.  Flailing wildly, Isaac slammed his sword into his opponent’s, causing both of them to lose grips on their weapons.  The Assaillane chased after his sword.  Isaac turned and ran back down the road.

As he pounded down the muddy road, he shrugged his bow off his back.  Suddenly, his panic abated.  Now he knew what he was doing.  Isaac notched an arrow and drew at the Assaillane charging toward him again.

The bandit saw the weapon, saw the blue cloak that Isaac was wearing, quickly and correctly assumed that Isaac knew how to use his weapon, and decided to dive out of the way.

Isaac tracked the man as he tumbled to the side.  He was about to release the arrow when he realized what he had been about to do.  Disgusted, Isaac shifted his aim a bit to the right, shooting the man in the leg.  He was not about to become a murderer just for a lowlife criminal.

Someone slammed into Isaac’s back, knocking his bow from his hands.  Isaac fell to his hands and knees.  Another Assaillane had snuck up behind him.  He was armed with a dagger and was about to slash Isaac across the throat.

Isaac grinned wickedly.  This was another area of expertise.  The dagger came down.  Isaac jabbed his knuckles into the man’s bicep striking a painful nerve.  Dragging the man’s arm out of striking range with his left, Isaac punched him in the face with his right.  And again.  And a third time.  The man fell flat on his back.

As the man clambered to his feet and ran, Isaac thought gratefully back to the many hours Gabriel and he had spent wrestling and fighting each other.  The backstabbing, cowardly Assaillane didn’t stand a chance in a straight up fight, particularly not against a Siliad.

The fleeing man caught Isaac’s eye again.  He was running toward the fork in the road and he turned down the right hand split.  Isaac picked up his bow and ran after him, crashing through the trees to cut him off.

Isaac broke through a tall bush and onto the road again.  The man raced on ahead, only a few yards away.  And past him, Isaac saw a dark figure riding away, vanishing in the thick rain.  It was not a rapidly fleeing figure, though.  It was a leisurely pace of a man who did not believe he was being followed.

Isaac suddenly realized they had been tricked.  His attention returned to the man running after the telum.  He would warn the telum that he was being followed.  He lifted his bow, but hesitated.  The man was getting farther and farther away.  Isaac could not merely shoot this man in the leg.  He would be unable to hit it at this range.  This time, Isaac would have to shoot to kill.

“Kill him, Isaac.”  Kendel’s voice emanated suddenly from beside him. “You can still hit him.”  Isaac lowered him bow.

“Isaac,” Kendel said, turning him to face her. “You must learn to kill not because you can, but because you must.”  Her eyes pleaded with him to do it, to learn.

“I can’t,” he said, dropping his bow. “I can’t become a killer for a simple man like him.”

Kendel did not move for ten seconds.  Then she lifted her bow, drew back one of her silvery arrows, and released it.  Isaac watched with detached fascination as the arrow arced through the air, zipping down the one hundred and seventy yard distance, and punched through the man’s back.  He flopped to the ground, the long arrow sticking straight in the air.

Kendel looked back to Isaac, sadness in her eyes.

Another Assaillane burst through the bushes along the road.  He hurled his club toward the back of Kendel’s head.  No time for warning, Isaac shoved her out of the projectile’s path.  The club whipped past her and struck Isaac on the side of his face.  The Siliad collapsed, unconscious.

 

Isaac jerked into semi-alertness.  The side of his head was sticky with blood.  He was not unduly worried about his, knowing that head wounds always bled inproportionally more than they should.  He sat up.  He was in the middle of the road.  No one was around, except for Barley and Mountain, both of whom stood over him.  Isaac arose.

His bow lay in the mud next to him.  Isaac scooped it up, trying to remember what had happened to him.  He remembered that the telum had been fleeing down the road when he had been knocked unconscious.  The others must have pursued him, leaving him behind in either haste or necessity.

Shaking his aching head, Isaac mounted Mountain.

“Come on, Barley,” he called.  He whipped Mountain’s reigns, setting the horse galloping down the road.

Unbeknownst to him, he was not actually on the right side fork.  Kendel had brought him back to the left hand fork and had taken the others to pursue the telum down the right hand fork.

Unbeknownst to all of them, it was actually Kadvar that the bulk of the group was chasing down the right hand fork; the only one following the actual telum was Isaac.

 

Chapter XIII

Isaac could not understand it.  Even at full gallop for as long as Mountain could run, he could not catch up even with Bert’s bumbling wagon.  As the stormy sky darkened further, Isaac finally stopped, dismounted Mountain, and led the two animals into the trees.  He searched in vain for dry wood with which to start a fire and dry himself.  Miserably, Isaac found the least damp space of ground under a walnut tree and fell into a fitful sleep.

In the morning, he was surprised to find that Mountain had an additional saddle bag full of food.  Pleased that his friends had at least had the forethought to leave him with food, Isaac began devouring a loaf of Mia’s coarse bread.

The rain slowed as he ate, a change he welcomed gladly.  He was very cold, having slept (at least partly) through the night still wearing his sopping clothes.  Again, he looked for dry wood, but could find none.  Angrily, Isaac numbly mounted his horse and set off back down the road.

Isaac traveled slowly today.  Mountain was still tired, as well as himself and Barley, and he did not believe that running full tilt today would have any better results than the day before.

The sun broke through the clouds at about noon Isaac welcomed it eagerly.  He cast off his wet cloak to allow the sun to dry it and his clothes all the faster.  It only had half done its work before the clouds covered it again and the cold returned.  Isaac looked north.  Snow was falling on the mountains.

 

Cold rain fell in abundance on the heads of Captain and the telum.  Their horses did not mind so much as they were hot and tired from the continuous galloping their masters had set them to.  The masters were not happy with their situation.  Captain, for his part, was cold, yes, but he was more displeased with his lot of being the sole escort of the telum.  He was also displeased with the fact that a veritable army of Scalpruses could be pounding in pursuit after them.

“How far is it to Impri?” the telum asked.  Captain thought about it for a moment.

“I can’t be entirely sure without consulting my map,” he said. “But I think that the distance is about four hundred miles.”

“Four hundred!” the telum swore. “Four hundred?  May Astennen sink this land below the sea!  No body of land should be so large.”  Captain slowly edged away from his black garbed companion.

“How long will it take to get there?” the telum spat.

“I would guess about a month,” Captain answered.

The telum did not respond.  He glanced over his shoulder.  Rain fell on them now.  But the mountains in the north testified that that would soon change.  Winter approached.

 

It had not yet begun to rain on Isaac again, but a cold wind blew along the road.  The threesome plodded on dejectedly.  Isaac could not understand how he still had found no sign of the rest of his company.  The torrential rains had washed over the roads and wiped out whatever tracks they may have left.

Thoughts of a hot fire filled Isaac’s mind.  A crow flew overhead.  ‘Yes, a bird of some sort to cook over it would be welcome, too,’ Isaac mused to himself.

Though it was not raining, Isaac could see the storm coming from the west and it was dumping down water enough.  Isaac stopped Mountain, deciding to find a dry place to stay the night before he became soaked again.

He climbed out of the saddle and pushed into the trees.  Trees here were leafy, not needled, which make things harder for him.  With the approaching winter, the leaves were beginning to dry and shrivel.  They would offer no protection from the rain.

Isaac wandered through the trees, collecting dry wood as he encountered it.  Then he stopped.  The wind slowed a bit and a sound reached Isaac’s ears.  It was a faint ringing.  It arose briefly and faded just as quickly then repeated itself.  The wind fell further, and Isaac could make out notes of music.

Isaac followed the sound.  Presently he could hear a voice singing along.  Moving closer still, Isaac recognized the instrument.  He had rarely heard it played, but it was a mandolin.

Confused to say the least, Isaac pushed through the trees and hanging branches.  The sound grew stronger.  Brushing a bush aside, Isaac found the source.

A tall man sat leaned against a wide pine tree before a bright fire, strumming notes on his mandolin.  His upper torso was covered by thick wolf furs, the rest of him by shorter haired rabbit furs.  He was a dark haired man, and his facial structure was unfamiliar.  Isaac had become used to the many different physical distinctions that the Scalpruses all possessed, but this man did not possess any of those.  Most prominent was the man’s particularly large nose, rather uniquely shaped.  Next to him stood a small, spotted horse.  Sitting on a sack near the fire was a fat, black cat squinting at nothing.

Isaac walked toward the man slowly.  Isaac could still not make out the words the man was singing.  Isaac stepped under the pine tree; the man paid him no attention.  The horse snorted as Mountain tramped up behind Isaac.

Still confused, Isaac decided that the man was either drunk or speaking some foreign language.  Both seemed a likely possibility, as Isaac did not recognize any of the syllables the man spoke and he had still not acknowledged Isaac’s arrival.

“Good evening,” Isaac said cautiously.  The man stroked a final chord on his mandolin and set the instrument aside.

“Hello,” he said, his accent thick. “You can set your wood their down next to the fire.  We’ll use it eventually.”  Isaac set down his load and sat down across from the other man.  The man hunched forward, looking at Isaac’s horse with great interest.

“My, now there’s a fine beast!” he exclaimed. “Is that a good, strong horse?”  Isaac nodded affirmation.  “Yes, I thought so.  I know a man with a horse just like that one.  Very fine horse.”  He sat back smiling and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, turning his attention back to Isaac.

“I could use a bite to eat,” Isaac admitted.

“Good.  Have some of this,” the other said, dumping some thick stew into a crude wooden bowl for Isaac.  Isaac took the bowl.

“That ought to cure you one way or another,” he added with a chuckle.  Isaac looked into the dark concoction.  He tentatively tasted it and decided that it was the worst thing he would ever put in his mouth and still swallow of his own choice.

“Thank you,” Isaac said, trying not to let his distaste show.  The other man waved his words away.

“You don’t have to worry about offending me if you don’t want to eat it,” he said. “I’ve never learned how to cook properly.  It only has to taste well enough for me to keep it in my mouth; that’s my only requirement.”  Barley walked forward and began sniffing at the man.  The man perked up again, a confused smile spreading across his face.

“Well, hello, stranger!” he said happily, scratching Barley behind the ears. “Don’t you look very familiar…”  The man looked Barley all over.  The dog did the same, woofing at the man.

“If I thought I knew better I wouldn’t say so, but you look an awful lot like a dog I knew by the name of Barley,” the stranger said.  He looked at Mountain again, and then he leaned closer over the fire, studying Isaac.

“And you,” he said, facing the horse again, “look an awful lot like a horse I saw often in the company of this dog, by the name of Mountain.”

As he said these things, Isaac straightened up, suddenly apprehensive as this complete stranger correctly named both of his companions.  Isaac involuntarily scooted backward as the man turned back to Isaac.

“And you have a barest resemblance to a man I know who often traveled on that horse in the company of this dog,” he said.  Barley looked at Isaac, his tail wagging happily and his faced turned up in a doggy grin.  “And that man went by the name of Siliad.”  Isaac recoiled.

“Am I right?” the man asked with an expectant smile.

“I suppose you would be,” Isaac said uncomfortably. “Barley seems to know you well enough at any rate.”  Behind him, Mountain tossed his head with a snort.

“So your… father… would be Walter Siliad?” the man inquired eagerly.

“Yes, he would,” Isaac answered.  The man clapped his hands.

“Ha ha!” he exclaimed. “It’s a small world after all.”  He reached around the flames to shake Isaac’s hand.  “I am pleased to meet you,” he said. “What’s your name?”

Isaac shook his hand, hastily to avoid burning himself.  “I am Isaac Siliad,” he replied.

“Pleased to meet you,” the other man repeated.

A crow soared under the tree and landed on the man’s shoulder, croaking loudly.  Something clicked in Isaac’s head.

“And your name is…?” Isaac prompted.  The crow cawed.

“I am Crowley.  I prefer simply Crowley, but my full and proper name is Lance Crowley.”

Walter’s voice sprang out of the depths of Isaac’s mind: “Well, my apprentice’s name was Lance Crowley.  Strange, arrogant fellow, him; he always went about with a crow on his shoulder.”

“I thought I recognized Mountain there,” Crowley said with satisfaction. “How are you doing old Barley?” he asked the white dog, vigorously rubbing his head.  Barley barked happily.

“Walter mentioned you a few times,” Isaac said.  Crowley looked up.

“Did he?” he asked, surprised. “Huh!  I always had the impression that he didn’t like me much.”  Isaac nodded, smiling.

“Yes, that’s what he said.”  Crowley’s back straightened.

“Oh.”  He looked down at Barley.  “No matter, I suppose.  Barley likes me well enough.  You were always a smart dog, you know.”  Isaac snorted.

“We always thought he was a bit cowardly,” he said.  Crowley nodded.

“That’s what we thought, too,” he said. “Pretty smart for a dog.”  Barley pushed away from Crowley at the insult, instead turning his attention to the cat.  He approached the cat, which watched him as he came nearer.  Barley sniffed the cat.  The cat hissed and popped Barley on the nose, leaping up onto all four paws.  The already fat cat seemed to double in size as all its fur poofed straight out.  Barley barked and tripped over backward.

Isaac and Crowley laughed.  “And who is that?” Isaac asked, gesturing to the cat.  Crowley chuckled.

“That black fat roll is Blom,” he said. “He doesn’t do anything.  He was thrust upon me a year ago.”

“So, Isaac, what brings you here?  I mean, I’m not surprised to see a Siliad wandering the world; as soon as Walter became a man, he never stayed in one place for more than a month it seemed.  Of course, he settled down… what? twenty years ago?  I’m getting old,” Crowley said. “How is Walter doing though?”

“Walter died a month ago or so,” Isaac said, finding that it was easier to say it now.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Crowley said, face falling. “I’ve been traveling north to go visit him.  He was a good man.

“Did he finally get old?  Did his youth catch up to him?” Crowley inquired.

“Well, it might have,” Isaac said. “He was murdered.”  Crowley’s cheerful face turned stony as Isaac said it.  “A telum sneaked up into Gilead and killed him in the forest.”  Crowley rubbed his chin.

“A telum you say?  I was afraid of that,” Crowley sighed. “Are you sure it was a telum?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Isaac confirmed. “I saw him.”  Crowley sat forward, puzzlement on his face.  “He was running as fast as he could in the other direction.”  Crowley lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you that scary when you are angry?” he asked skeptically. “Telums don’t run away very often.”  Isaac shrugged.

“I doubt that I am that scary, but Kendel is,” Isaac said. “And so is Beorwulf,” he added on afterthought.

“Kendel, did you say?” Crowley asked, a strange expression on his face. “When did you see Kendel?”

“I’ve been traveling with Kendel and a group of other Scalpruses in pursuit of the telum,” Isaac said. “I lost track of them yesterday after a number of the telum’s men ambushed us, but they are traveling west down the road over there.”

Crowley stood and looked off through the trees in the direction of the road.

“Where did you run into Kendel?” he asked.

“She and the other Scalpruses were in Gilead, apparently to warn Father that a telum was hunting him, but they got to Gilead after the telum had left,” Isaac said. “We have followed him down here, wherever here is and wherever he is going.”  Crowley looked at the horizon.

“You say there is a road over there?” Crowley asked distractedly. “I would wager that that road goes to Laydor.  That or Impri, but I doubt the telum would waste time going there, so it must be Laydor.  And you say Kendel is following the telum?”

“Yes,” Isaac said, slightly annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “She and a troop of Scalpruses, as well as Tulgas, James, Bert, and Jagral, if those names mean anything to you.”

“The don’t, relatively,” Crowley said. “But yes, I know who those people are.”  He sat down, regretfully, it seemed to Isaac.

“What brings you here?” Isaac asked.  Crowley leaned against the tree again, frowning.

“Oh, I’ve been south of here in the dead kingdom of Ohendria.  Dead though it is, one of its towns is still inhabited; Erenient.  I’ve come from there, as I said to visit Walter,” Crowley replied. “And to warn him,” he added. “I received word that Astennen was moving and that telums were hunting down all the old Scalprus heroes.  I left to tell him, but I guess I received the news too late.

“Telum, eh?” Crowley growled. “I hate telums.”  He reached around the tree he was leaning on and pulled a large bow from behind it.  “They aren’t good for anything other than killing all the people you wish they wouldn’t.”  Crowley reached back again, grabbing a quiver of broadhead arrows.  “Tomorrow we are going to follow Kendel down that road, and when we meet this telum, I’m going to nail his head to a tree from one hundred yards.”

Rain began to fall.  Isaac glanced out at the already wet ground as water flooded over it again.  Underneath the pine tree, the rain did not reach them.

“Well, I do believe,” Crowley said, putting his bow and arrows back, “that I am going to get some sleep.”  He stood, shooing the crow off his shoulder, and spread a blanket on the ground.

“Sounds like a decent idea to me,” Isaac said with a yawn.  Last night’s rest had been unsatisfactory.  He did likewise, unrolling his bedroll and laying down on top of it.  He listened to the rain.  It was one of his favorite sounds.

 

“We can’t keep up this speed,” Bunoby said. “Many of us are injured after that ambush, and they can’t keep up.”

“Who is injured?” Kendel asked.

“Gregor was struck in the head by a club, and he is an old man; it did him no favors,” Bunoby replied. “Wallace was cut on the arm, not fatal, but he can’t use it.  Paul was cut on his leg, just below the knee; it can support no weight.  Caleb’s shoulder was sliced and broken by an ax.  That particular injury could take months to heal.  Jason broke two ribs after being struck by a charging horse.”

“You are not harmed, correct, Beorwulf?” Kendel asked.  Beorwulf nodded.

“I am also uninjured,” Tulgas said. “And so is Jagral, predictably enough.”

“Good,” Kendel replied. “Then the four of us can chase down the telum.  He can’t have anymore than two or three men with him.”

“Excellent,” Tulgas said. “Just give me a horse and I’ll keep up with you two Scalpruses just fine.”

“Take Jason’s horse,” Beorwulf said.

“We need to leave now,” Kendel urged. “I don’t think the telum knows we are pursuing him, but I doubt he would be foolish enough to ignore the possibility.”

“Right then, let’s go,” Tulgas exclaimed.  Kendel mounted her white horse.  Beorwulf leapt on his, and Tulgas and Jagral climbed onto Jason’s.

“Get the others to help you tend the injured,” Kendel ordered Bunoby. “One way or the other, we will be back within twelve hours.”  The three horses galloped off down the road.

 

Gritch sat back happily in his padded chair.  The gold was serving him well, buying him all the best food and drinks he could want  and he had barely made a dent in it.  He had to find something worth spending it on, but all the wine in his belly made thinking a bit difficult.  He ordered himself another bottle while simultaneously biting an undignified mouthful of chicken.  He wiped the grease off on his new, rather expensive suit.

Other than his lacking social graces and the presence of his bandanna, Gritch would have looked gentlemanly in his new clothes.  As it was, the other men in Gritch’s favorite bar in Racalos looked at him angrily and enviously, wondering what luck had bestowed on the greedy, little man such a fortune.

Amid his newfound wealth, Gritch was blind to the jealousy around him, hardly considering that there might be men in the room eager to relieve him of his gold.

He stumbled out of the bar later than night in a very undignified (and drunk) manner.  Giggling incoherently, he bounced off the wall of the bar a few times, heading for the best inn in the city.  He did not notice three men following him, quickly gaining ground.

“Gritch!” a voice suddenly rang out.  The three men behind the drunken Gritch stopped and hurried back the way they had come.

“Gritch!” the voice shouted again.  Gritch looked around, still in a happy stupor.  In his glassy eyes, Gunther appeared out of nowhere in front of him.  That like nothing else could cut through his drunkenness.

“Gunther!” Gritch slurred back, just before the tall man shoved him against the wall.

“Where’s my money, you snake?” Gunther hissed.  Gritch struggled against Gunther’s grip.

“He wouldn’t give it to me,” he groaned. “He said that if you wanted it, you would have to go get it from him.”  Gunther pushed harder.

“Oh, really?  What amount then?” he demanded.

“Twenty gold pieces!” Gritch said, the mention of the money lighting his face a bit.

“Twenty gold pieces!” Gunther breathed.  He pulled up the front of Gritch’s shirt, where Gunther knew Gritch kept his money.  A small sack fell on the ground.  Gritch reached for it, but Gunther shoved him aside.

He poured the bag’s contents into his hand.  Gold and silver glinted in his face.  Gunther counted the coins carefully.  Nineteen gold coins, seven silver ones.  Gunther’s fingers trembled, resisting the urge to close on the coins.  Very slowly, Gunther poured the coins back in their bag and returned it to Gritch.

“You, my one-eyed friend,” Gunther said, “are going to lead me to the telum so that I can collect my twenty gold coins.  Understand?”

 

Isaac and Crowley set out the next morning.  At first, Crowley argued that they should attempt to catch up with the others, but Isaac disagreed, saying that even going at full gallop, they wouldn’t catch up with them if they were in pursuit of the telum.  And Isaac had already tried that approach, and it had failed him.  Crowley slouched in his saddle angrily and the two set off down the road.

Rain fell from the sky again that day.  The winter storms were approaching, and shortly it would begin to snow on them.  As it was, the rain and air were both very cold.  Crowley didn’t seem to notice, but after an hour riding through the downpour, Crowley picked up his mandolin and began singing in the same foreign language and played utterly unconcerned.  Isaac glared at him through his chattering teeth.

 

Kendel, Beorwulf, Tulgas, and Jagral charged down the slick muddy road.  The rolling thunder and splashing raindrops masked the sound of their galloping horses very well.  Up ahead, they caught glimpses of four horsemen.

They gained on them quickly; their fit horses ran at full speed against the less fit horses before them moving at only a modest canter.  Jagral snarled.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the face of one of the men as he looked back.  Seeing the approaching riders, he shouted a warning, the words lost to the wind.  Beorwulf shot an arrow through the man’s neck.

Two of the horses stopped as their riders turned to confront the new threat.  The last horseman kicked his horse and galloped away into the gloom.  Just before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder, his face fierce.

Kendel quickly looked over the remaining men.  One was just as all the others had been, a simple bandit.  The other was dressed in black leather – but he did not wear a black cloak.  Beorwulf shot the bandit from his horse before the man could decide upon a course of action.

The black dressed man fumbled unprofessionally with his bow – but he did not carry a crossbow.  Tuglas charged the horse at this remaining man, who fired an arrow, but missed completely.  This struck Kendel as particularly peculiar.

“Tulgas!” she shouted. “Restrain him!”  The warrior made no reply, but as the two drew near him, Jagral leapt from the back of the horse and tackled the man.

Kendel dismounted as Tulgas wrenched the man to his feet.  “Who are you?” Kendel demanded.  The man glanced at the four of them, Tulgas, holding him firmly to prevent his escape, Beorwulf, ready with a notched arrow, Jagral, holding a spear in his face, and Kendel, currently unarmed but more frightening than all the others despite it.

“Who are you?” Kendel repeated.  The man cowered.

“I am Huthin!” he yelped.  Kendel exchanged a glance with Beorwulf.  This was not telum behavior.

“Are you a telum?” Kendel asked.  The man shook his head most emphatically.

“We know that you have recently been traveling in the company of a telum.  Where is he?” Kendel ordered.

“He is the man who ran.  He had his servant pose as a diversion and leave down the other fork in the road wearing his cloak,” Huthin explained. “Then he had me wear his servant’s clothes to make me appear to be a higher authority.”

Kendel remounted her horse.  “Tulgas, keep him here,” she commanded. “Beorwulf and I are going to catch up with him and end this.”  The two riders galloped off.

They did not go far when they saw the telum’s horse, saddle empty, standing in the road.

“He is fleeing on foot,” Beorwulf noted. “As if that will save him.”

As he just finished saying these words, a crossbow bolt flashed out of the darkness of the trees, burying itself in Beorwulf’s chest.  He gasped, coughed, and fell to the ground.  The telum emerged from his hiding place, crossbow abandoned, and leapt back on his horse.  Kendel released an arrow in pursuit as she jumped off her horse to Beorwulf’s side.

Casting her bow aside, Kendel rolled Beorwulf onto his back.

“Leave me,” Beorwulf coughed painfully. “Catch the telum!”  Kendel looked at the fleeing telum.  He sat uncomfortably in his saddle, Kendel’s arrow protruding from his arm.  The woman looked back to Beorwulf.

The bolt was buried deep between two right-side ribs.  The wound was not overly close to his heart, but it still bled profusely.

“Is the bolt barbed?” Kendel asked, placing her hand against the shaft.  Beorwulf shook his head, jerkily.  Kendel yanked the bolt free, causing Beorwulf to groan.

Kendel pressed on the wound, slowing the bleeding a little.  She looked up again, glaring down the now empty road.  Her lip curled and she snarled.

 

The two of them road at a hasty pace, partly to catch up to those ahead of them, and partly to keep from freezing in the rain.  The sun sank low in the sky behind the clouds, and the already dim light began to fade.

Crowley slowed his horse to a stop.  Isaac tugged on Mountain’s reins.

“What is it?” Isaac asked.  Crowley looked concerned.

“I don’t believe that Kendel is ahead of us,” he said.  Isaac turned in his saddle to look at him properly.

“Why do you think that?” Isaac asked.  Crowley leaned forward in his saddle, looking at the road.

“Several reasons, some obvious, some not so obvious,” he said. “Firstly, if Kendel really was in front of us, she would have either caught the telum by now or realized that they would not catch up with him by chasing after him.  Either way, they should have slowed down and we should have caught up with them.

“Secondly, look at the ground.”  Isaac looked at the indicated surface.  The road was runny and muddy, with a wide few puddles left behind a couple of horses some time ago.  Isaac turned back, comprehension dawning on him.

“If that many of them had come through here ahead of us, the road would be churned up in a huge, kneaded mess after so much horses walking over this thick mud,” Crowley explained.

“You say this road goes to Laydor?” Isaac asked.

“I did say that…” Crowley looked back down the road. “Did you encounter a fork in this road somewhere back there?”  Isaac nodded.

“Yes, during our scuffle with the telum’s men we fought along both sides,” Isaac said.  Uncomfortably, he added, “I was on the right side fork when a thrown club knocked me senseless in the mud.  When I awoke, I was still in the road, so this is the right hand road.”

Crowley shook his head.  “I don’t think so,” he said. “This road has continued veering slowly south, and we are farther west than I originally supposed.  This is the road to Impri.  The mountains are visible from the road to Laydor, but I can see none.”

“But the telum went down the road to Laydor,” Isaac exclaimed. “And the other’s pursued him.”  Crowley nodded unhappily.

“At his point it would be faster to continue to Impri and from there meet with the others in Laydor,” he sighed. “That is rather unfortunate,” Crowley spat with distaste. “Well then!  Let’s call it a day, eh?”

 

Chapter XIV

As the two traveled along the path, over the course of the following days, rain turned to snow.  Isaac welcomed the change, as the snow did not soak him through like the rain did.  Crowley seemed not to care either way.

Unfortunately, the deepening snow slowed their progress.  Barley whined as he stepped high over the growing drifts, panting all the while.  Blom sat, ears flattened, on the back of Crowley’s horse, occasionally hissing at the falling snowflakes as they came too near him.

Crowley seemed impatient with all the delays.  He urged the group of them to move faster, and not get bogged down by the snow.  To Isaac, it seemed he was driven by some energy Isaac had never encountered before.  He couldn’t identify it and decided not to ask Crowley about it after the foreigner had glared at him as response to Isaac’s question why they needed to hurry.

 

Nearly a month passed before the trees thinned and a city came into view.

“There is Impri,” Crowley announced. “The people of Vlaenrome have always been strange.  Ever since it was founded by refugees from the old and long dead nation of Romér, it has followed the customs of that nation.  You will find nary a small town in Vlaenrome; only large ones surrounded by a wall.  Such as Impri.”

The city was indeed surrounded by a high, stone wall equipped with battlements and turrets, sentries armed with javelins walking along it.  An iron barred gate admitted entrance into the city.  Isaac was impressed; none of the cities he had visited traveling through the Toldorum Empire, not even Racalos, had displayed that degree of defense.  He brought up the point with Crowley as they approached the gate.

“You came from southern Gilead south to the end of the Toldorum territory, right?” Crowley asked.  Isaac nodded.  “The Toldorum cities below Gilead are heavily influenced by the previous kingdom to control that land, Kovicstan.  The Kovics were a lesser and less organized nation, as you may have noticed during your time in Racalos.”  Isaac recalled the random distribution of residences outside the keep at the heart of Racalos.

“Northern Toldorum is more like this,” Crowley explained, gesturing to Impri. “The Toldorum’s predecessor, Strovicdor, had very precise cities and well defended holds and keeps, and so do many of the Toldor cities on the north side of Gilead.  Farther north, where the old kingdom of Gondolich resided, Toldorum cities have great walls like these around architecturally artistic cities.”

“Wasn’t Romér on the continent Cerussia?” Isaac asked.

“It’s proper name is L’da Myech, but, yes, it was,” Crowley answered.

“Why would Vlaenrome keep so many of Romér’s aspects?” Isaac asked as they came nearer to the gates.

“If you are talking about the walls, they retained the walls, because Vlaenrome is significantly closer to Gilead and it does not have an ocean separating them,” Crowley answered.

“One more thing,” Crowley added. “Before we go into the city, you should know that you need to be on your best behavior.  Vlaens are very particular about enforcing laws and keeping the peace.”

Two guards stepped in front of them as they came up to the gate.

“Halt,” one ordered.  He was a tall man, and they both wore gleaming armor and wore gold capes.  Both carried blade-tipped spears.  “Where are you from?”

“We have come from the Toldorum Empire,” Isaac answered.

“Which city?” the guard asked.  Isaac wasn’t sure what to say.  He was debating between answering “Gilead” and “Racalos”, but Crowley answered first.

“We come from Loring Village,” he said.  The guards frowned.

“What is your business in Impri?” the lead guard asked.

“We are on our way to Laydor,” Crowley replied.

“Do you have weapons?”

“Yes…” Crowley admitted unhappily.

“Display them, please.”

Crowley held out his bow as well as a rather rectangular shaped sword and a knife.  Isaac did likewise with his bow, his sword that Kendel provided, and his hunting knife.  The guards inspected their weapons.

“You are a Rosiyin?” the guard said to Crowley. “Yes, you are.”  He turned to Isaac.  “You are a Dathian.  Very well.  You may go through.  Mind you do not cause any disturbances while in Impri.”  The guards stepped aside, allowing the two men to go past.

“Why do they think I am a Dathian?” Isaac asked.  Crowley chuckled.

“You have a Pathian physique, properly Islenian, but that is closely related to Dathian.  Walter was an Islenian, after all.  Plus you carry a Dathian sword,” he answered.  Isaac frowned, confused, and turned his attention to the city before him.

The sight amazed him.  The streets were very wide and were built of close set, level stones.  Though they had come in by way of the city’s east entrance, into a lesser part of the city, people still walked along the neat streets, going here and there, stopping to pursue wares of street vendors.  A troop of guards, all wearing gold capes except for their leader, who wore red, marched by in professional uniformity.  The buildings were all very elegant, each seemingly a part of a work of art.

“It certainly has a noble appearance,” Isaac noted.  Crowley shrugged.

“They try,” he said. “Of course, not all apples are free of worms.  As soon as Vlaenrome began arising, the Assaillane Empire began exerting its influence.  Impri has the least of its character, but it still has Assaillane ties.”

“Where are we going now?” Isaac asked.

“I planned on finding some cheap lodging, which, unsurprisingly resides in the most Assaillane influenced part of the city.  Vlaens dislike outsiders, but Assaillane is the center of the world and have little prejudice for them,” Crowley said. “And that is where we shall stay.”

They weaved through the organized streets, passing by detailed statues and great buildings.  Isaac had not realized that such things existed and was content to admire them.  Eventually, as they came to the west portion of the city, the art and statues began to thin and the buildings became less grand.  The people also became less grand.  Some were dressed finely, others roughly, but they all shared the same initial perception, one they all shared with the men Isaac had fought before; they all felt untrustworthy.

“And here we enter the Assaillane portion,” Crowley said.

Isaac and Crowley found an inn, a rather decrepit facility.  As they walked toward the door, Isaac glanced around.  A man in a light green cape stood outside an adjacent building.  Isaac noticed that he was watching him.  He inspected the man in return.  He reminded Isaac vaguely of Gregor; he was from Nianom.  The man had a sword at his hip.

Unable to determine who the man was, or why he was so interested in him, Isaac turned away and followed Crowley into the inn.

 

Kadvar walked across the docks along the Neks River at Laydor.  He shivered in the cold.  Ice floated along the edges of the wide river.  He surveyed the ships in turn.

One caught his eye.  It was a large ship, one fit to sail the sea safely, and it flew an Assaillane flag in the wind.  It was not the only ship flying such a flag, but it was the only ship flying an Assaillane flag bearing the seal of Astennen in the corner.  He approached the ship.

He still wore the simple clothes he had taken from Huthin, not his identifying black ones, and the man sitting before the ship stood as he approached.

“Who are you?” he demanded, blocking Kadvar’s way.

“I am Kadvar, Order of Astennen,” Kadvar replied, withdrawing an iron pendant bearing the seal.  The man scrutinized the device, then stepped back.

“Hello, Kadvar,” he said. “What have you to tell me?”

“Scelerit, the telum, has ordered that you take this ship to Vanish, and meet him there.  Circumstances both resulted in his detour and require your haste in readying this ship for departure,” Kadvar said. “When can we leave?”  The man considered the question.

“I will have the ship ready to sail by tomorrow.”

 

Captain stepped out of the inn at which he and the telum were temporarily staying.  Captain regarded the telum with masked contempt; the telum had expressed the need for haste, but had decided to delay for the sake of a bed to sleep in.  He was no man.  Captain, knowing who could be just behind them, would have rathered to continue, and in a hurry, but his master had disagreed.

Captain gazed around the streets.  They had the general feel of corruption he had grown accustomed to in the Assaillane Islands, but they lacked the same saturation of wealth.

Captain froze.  Two men walked out of a stable and along the opposite road.  The first was a Rosiyin dressed in the typical furs, but the second wore the identifying garb of a Scalprus, a blue cloak.  He quickly thought back.  He had never personally encountered any of the Scalpruses pursuing them, so it was unlikely that this one would recognize him for who he was.

The Scalprus turned toward him and inspected him.  Captain remained still, keeping his face impassive.  As he had expected, the Scalprus did not show any recognition.

As soon as the blue-cloaked man was gone, Captain turned back into the inn.  He rushed up the stairs and into their room.

“Sir!” Captain said urgently.  The telum stood against the wall, holding his seal of Astennen in hand.  He did not wear his cloak; had he worn it, the guards of Impri would never have granted the two of them entrance into the city.

“What is it?” he asked irritably.  Captain noticed that without his cloak, the telum felt less superior and invincible.

“There are two men who have just taken up residence in the inn across the street.  One is a Rosiyin, but the other is a Scalprus; he wears a blue cloak,” Captain informed him.  The telum pocketed the medallion and walked to the foot of his bed.

“Do you think they know I am here?” he asked, picking up a bolt of his crossbow and carefully inspecting its point.

“I do not know,” Captain answered. “It would seem that the Scalprus is here because of you, but I don’t know if he knows you are here, or even in Impri at all.”

“We could kill them,” the telum mused.  Captain would have rolled his eyes, but instead opted for a more respectful response.

“We could,” he said, “but you know how the Vlaens are with laws, and murderers particularly.  While they may not catch us, they could delay us significantly.”  The telum set down the bolt.

“Unfortunate,” he said. “We will have to leave tomorrow for Rolya.  By now Kadvar should have our ship sailing for Vanish.  How long do you expect that to take?”

“No more than ten days; less if we make good speed,” Captain answered.

“Good,” the telum said. “And if that Scalprus follows us there, I’ll kill him.”

 

“So have you got money to pay for a room?” Crowley asked as the two of them walked into the inn.  Isaac frowned, worried.

“Ah, no,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about that… and I haven’t ever had any anyway.”

“You haven’t got any money?” Crowley asked incredulously.

“No.  Haven’t you?” Isaac asked.  This time, Crowley frowned, shamefaced.

“No.  I rarely have money,” he answered, “but I rarely need any.”

“So how are we going to get a room?” Isaac asked.  Crowley winked.

“I will show you.  Have you ever heard of pyx?”  Isaac thought back, the word familiar.

“Maybe once,” Isaac said.  Crowley pointed to a table in the corner of the room.  His crow flapped on his shoulder and cawed.

“I’ll show you how its done.”

Crowley led Isaac to the table.  Two men sat at it, talking in quiet tones and drinking from mugs.  One was an Assaillane; the other Isaac supposed to be a Vlaen.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Crowley said cheerily as they reached the table.  The two looked up with disinterest.  “Are you two possibly looking for an additional player for pyx.”  The two glanced at each other.

“That depends,” the Assaillane said. “How much money have you got?”

Crowley took a seat at the table, nudging the chair beside him for Isaac to take.  “Well, I have very little by way of actual money – ”  The two men began scowling.  ” – but I do have this…”  He reached into his furs and withdrew a bright, silver knife.  The two men leaned forward, inspecting it closely.

“The blade is made of Ohendria silver,” Crowley said. “I will stake this against your money.”  A pause ensued as the men stared at the knife, then they looked at each other.

“Very well,” the Vlaen said. “We will value your blade up to twelve silver.”  Crowley smirked.

“No less than twenty,” Crowley said, “or I take my Ohendria silver and leave.”

“Very well,” the Assaillane snapped. “Twenty silver it is.”

“Are you two playing together?” Crowley asked.  The men nodded.  “Which one of you is rolling?”

“We both are,” the Vlaen replied, “or you can take your blade and leave.”  Crowley glanced between them.

“Very well.”  The men nodded.  The Assaillane set five strangely shaped dice on the table.  They each had eight triangular faces.  Both men placed four silver coins in the center of the table.  Crowley placed his knife.

“You may roll first,” the Vlaen said graciously.  Crowley picked up the dice, each made of iron and decorated with different colors on each face.

“I bet two silver on two grey,” Crowley announced.

“Three silver on a red, a yellow, and a grey,” the Vlaen said, placing a silver coin in the center.

“Two silver on a blue and white,” said the other also adding a coin.  Crowley rolled the dice in his hand, frowning slightly, and tossed them on the table.  The dice came up grey, white, blue, green, and black.  Crowley frowned.

“Would you look at that,” the Assaillane said. “A blue and a white.”  He retrieved his silver coin.  “You are down by eight silver, friend.”

“And I have one point,” Crowley said.

The Assaillane took the dice, placing two silver coins in the center.

“I bet four silver on a red and a grey,” he said, adding two more coins.

“I counter with two on a blue and a grey,” the Vlaen responded, placing a silver coin with the others.  Both men looked to Crowley.

“I will pass on countering,” Crowley said tightly.  The two men smirked.

The Assaillane rolled, getting a green, yellow, red and two greys.

“Fancy that,” he said tiredly. “A red and a grey.  And four points.”  He took his two silvers, plus four additional coins from the table and handed the dice to his friend.

Crowley leaned over to Isaac and whispered to him, “Each side has a different color, for the most part.  Grey comes up most often.  Each color is worth a different amount of points.  If you get twenty points, you win all the money in the center and the game is over.”

The Vlaen rolled, after betting six on a red, blue, and grey, resulting in a grey, two whites, a green, and a black.  Crowley smiled.

“Snake eyes, good sir,” he said. “And no points.”  The Vlaen scowled and handed the dice across.

“You are down to ten silver now,” the Assaillane said.

“I bet four on red and blue,” Crowley said.  The other two placed their counters.

Crowley rolled, resulting in a blue, two reds, and two greys.  He leaned back in his seat.

“I now have fourteen silver, as well as eight points,” he grinned.

The game continued, rapidly turning in Crowley’s favor.  Soon his blade was back completely in his possession and he began collecting silver coins in front of him.

“Their dice are weighted,” Crowley whispered to Isaac. “That is why they keep betting on red, blue, and grey.”

The two men scowled and snarled as Crowley edged closer and closer to twenty points.  Finally, Crowley rolled a last time, resulting in a blue and four greens.

“And for a grand total score of twenty-four, the game is won,” Crowley said, raking all the coins on the table into a pouch.  The two men gazed at him stonily.  “Thank you, gentlemen; I was in need of some money.”

They left the men behind, and Crowley purchased a room with his new found wealth.  Isaac glanced nervously around the room, making sure that the two men Crowley had just fleeced were not planning some mischief.

As he swept his gaze, two men walked through the door.  The first was a short man with a bandanna covering one eye.  He was dressed in sullied clothes that may have once been expensive; his expression was tired and sullen.  The other was a tall man who was most distinguished by his wide hat with a long feather poking out of it.  This man seemed strangely familiar to Isaac, though he could not place why.

Both men stopped abruptly when they caught sight of Isaac.  They stared pointedly at him, before hastily exiting the premises.

“That is a bit strange,” Crowley said, looking after them.  He turned to Isaac.  “They seemed to have recognized your cloak for what it is.”  Isaac glanced down at his blue cloak.

“Perhaps you should avoid wearing that…” Crowley said. “I should have thought of that earlier; Assaillanes are almost certain to recognize that cloak and that makes you a target.  Yes, you should keep that hidden.”

 

The sun rose; so did Captain and the telum.  They mounted up early, hoping to beat the Scalprus out of the city.  They were not disappointed.  The Scalprus remained wherever he was, and they did not see him.  Shortly, they were outside the north gate of Impri and on their way for Rolya.

 

In actuality, Isaac also arose with the sun, still accustomed to Kendel’s strict and early-morning schedule.  Still he knew that his Rosiyin companion would not rise for at least another hour.

He stood, and surveyed the streets outside his window.  Few people were about in the cold, early hours.  Isaac noticed the green-caped man cantering away on his horse in the company of another, smaller man.  He paid them no mind, however, and instead let his thoughts wander.

He thought of his home back in Gilead.  By now, the snow would be at least five feet deep and the family mostly holed up in the cabin around the fire.  Isaac wondered how things were, how his mother was coping.  He wondered how Walter’s death had effected Kestrel, feeling guilty that he had not stayed longer to ascertain that before leaving.

Gabriel would be the head of the Siliad family now.  Isaac wished he could see how Gabriel filled the role.  He missed home and the untroubled life he had led there.

His thoughts drifted to the Jemry family.  Old Man Jemry was such a strange man, but he had been the Siliads’ only neighbor for years; the only other family living in Gilead that Isaac knew of.  He smiled as he recalled his last conversation with the old man.  Old Jemry had, immediately after seeing Isaac, concluded that Isaac either meant to or should court his daughter Helen.  Pretty as a willow.

Crowley sighed from his bed and opened his eyes.

“I am quite ready,” he said. “To put Vlaenrome behind me.”  Isaac snorted.

“And you have only been here a day,” Isaac responded.  Crowley sat up and shrugged.

“I don’t like these Vlaen cities,” he said. “They are too organized and uptight.  I much prefer the old Gilead cities.”  He stood and put on his coat of firs.

“Let’s get out of here,” Crowley barked.  Isaac collected his things and almost put on his cloak, but remembered Crowley’s warning.

“I need a new cloak if I can’t wear this one,” Isaac noted.

“I’ll lend you one of mine as soon as we get out to the stable,” Crowley replied. “It will be helpful in confusing anyone who may be looking for a Scalprus in the company of a Rosiyin if you wear Rosiyin furs.”

They exited the inn and walked into the stable where their animals waited.  Barley barked as Isaac walked over to him.

“Good morning, Barley,” Isaac said, scratching the dog’s ears.  Barley wagged his tail.

“Good morning, Mountain,” Isaac told his horse as he began saddling him up.

“Good morning, Keckle,” Crowley said to his crow, imitating Isaac’s tone.  “Good morning, Kitstle,” he said to his horse.  “Good morning, Blom.”

“Mock me if you must,” Isaac said, “but I appreciate my companions.”

“I appreciate your companions, too,” Crowley said, “but mine are a motley crew.”

“You have a cloak for me?”

“Yes,” Crowley responded, tossing him a large bundle.

The two of them set out, exiting the city and heading north.  Crowley sang an anxious song in his strange, Rosiyin tongue.

 

Kendel surveyed the docks at Laydor.  Most of the ships were innocent enough, but one, one currently undergoing preparations for departure, bore the incriminating seal of Astennen on its flag.

Kendel herself had, for that reason, forgoed her cloak and bow in favor of a white tunic and leggings and two knives.

“That would be the telum’s ship,” Tulgas said.  Kendel nodded.

“But the telum is not there,” Kendel said. “His black cloak should be easy enough to distinguish, but the most imposing figure I see is that man in black leather.  And he is armed with a bow.”

“The telum couldn’t wear his cloak here,” Tulgas argued. “The Vlaens would arrest him.”

“And so, neither could the ship fly the seal of Astennen, but still it does,” Kendel said. “Laydor is the most corrupt out of the Vlaenrome cities.  Normal Vlaen laws are alleviated in favor of the Assaillanes.  He would be wearing it, were he here.”

“Where else would he be, though,” Tulgas said. “Do you mean we were tricked.”

“At the fork in the road,” Kendel said, “the telum had his minion there make a fake getaway posing as him, the telum, while he actually fled down the road that he originally went down to begin with.  Ingenious; such a double-bluff ploy would only work against intelligent opponents capable of catching the first trick.”

“But that is his ship?” Tulgas questioned uncertainly.

“Undoubtedly.  He must have taken the road to Impri.  His minion, that assassin on the boat there, is likely taking the ship to Vanish to meet with his master there.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Tulgas asked scowling. “Take the ship and meet him there ourselves?”

“We could, but this telum is a cunning adversary; it is likely that if we took control of his ship, we would never see him again,” Kendel said.

“So what have you got in mind?”

“We can do nothing more than board a ship heading for Vanish and follow the Assaillanes there.”

 

“What the devil are you singing?” Isaac growled uncharitably.  Crowley seemed to pass the time solely with singing, and over the last few days he had persistently sang the same song over and over.  Isaac did not understand a word of it, but he felt that he could sing the entire thing from memory regardless.  He had enjoyed the song the first few times, but its melancholy melody and thus far endless repetitions were not improving his mood.  Crowley stopped his song.

“It is a Rosiyin song I learned from an old bachelor who lived in a fishing town in the far north,” Crowley said.  A few moments passed, during which Isaac came to the realization that Crowley did not intend on saying anything more.

“So why do you keep singing it?” Isaac demanded.

“Hmph,” Crowley answered. “Never mind.”

“Haven’t you got a reason?” Isaac asked.

“I’ve got a very good reason, that is for sure,” Crowley replied.  Isaac scowled.  While Crowley was very good at speaking the words, Isaac was less sure he was good at speaking the language.  He decided to let this slide and occupy Crowley’s mouth with conversation.

“What do you know about the telums,” Isaac asked.  Crowley hunched over thoughtfully.

“They serve one basic purpose, and that is to instill fear,” Crowley replied. “And they typically go about doing that by killing people at their leisure.  It is their way of controlling people.”

“Why do they need to control people?” Isaac asked.

“They don’t really have to work for anything; all the people who are afraid of being killed at their hands give them all they want.  Those would be the Assaillanes,” he answered. “The Assaillanes are the wealthiest people in the world.  They are also the most corrupt.  They have no government but the Order of Astennen.”

“What is that?”

“The Order is a cult of powerful men and women, evil men and women.  They worship power, specifically the power of the evil deity Astennen.  The telums work for them, spreading their influence and giving them more power,” Crowley answered. “That is why they despise the Hall of Cakadem and the Scalpruses.  The Hall inhibits their spread and search for power.  The Scalpruses keep them out of the rest of the world.  It is a constant war; the Hall verses the Order, the telums verses the Scalpruses.”

“And your father,” Crowley continued, turning to look Isaac in the face, “was one of the foremost Scalpruses in his time.  I don’t know how many telums he killed, but he ended the tyranny of many.  He was a symbol of hope to many people.  He was said to be the only man from whom telums flee.”

 

“There are two of them back there,” Captain announced. “But both appear to be Rosiyins.  There is no sign of the Scalprus.”

“But you said that the Scalprus was traveling with a Rosiyin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that the Rosiyin could have disguised the Scalprus as a Rosiyin as well?” the telum inquired.  Captain hesitated.

“That is a good possibility,” he replied.

“Did you see anyone else on the roads aside from those two?” the telum asked.

“No, sir,” Captain said.

“Good,” the telum smiled. “So no one will see me kill them.”

[Under continuation]