

Rune Breaker

Book 1: A Girl and Her Monster

by Landon Porter
Rune Breaker Book 1: A Girl and Her Monster  
© 2012 Landon Porter

A reprinting of:

Rune Breaker Book 1 from www.descendantsserial.com

Copyright © 2010 by Landon Porter

Cover Art © 2012 by Clay Kronke

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author's rights is appreciated.

All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

# Chapter 1 – Pursued

Loose stones skittered under her feet, the sound amplified by the closeness of the cave. Though it was pitch black, she had no trouble seeing. Her kind wouldn't; they had been bred to march through day and night if necessary with no need of fires or torches.

Her lineage gave her height nearing seven feet without her boots, and a robust, hinged ribcage that let her breathe deeper than any other race of demi-humans. She shared that birthright with the masters: the hailene. But her red hair, cut savagely close to her skull, marked her as ang'hailene. The very word meant 'not people', and to the hailene, they were nothing at all unless they were first molded to the wishes of their hailene masters.

That wasn't all they had been created for, and part of that breeding suddenly informed her that this was no cave she had found herself in. It was a mine. Or at least some sort of hand-made tunnel. An adolescence spent hewing iron ore from the earth was the preferred method of strengthening her kind for military training.

In the darkness behind her, there were other noises: claws on stone, growling, and snarling breaths of canine effort. The guard hounds of the masters were no more mere dogs than she was a human. They did not bark or yap or whine, and they were cunning and vicious in a way most thought only demi-humans were capable of.

A frontrunner of the pack took the bend in the tunnel at speed by running up the wall, then leapt toward her. She was only warned by the sound, whirled and met paws half the size of her head with the flat of her sword. With all her strength, she pushed it away and brought the sword up ready to strike when it came again.

The hound's lips curled back in a snarl, revealing its sharp snout to be full of metallic teeth. Like all of its breed, it didn't even know that retreat was an option. She had seen the training: pups with an instinct to flee were killed instantly and those without were bred continuously.

It leapt at her and her sword came down precisely on its skull. Hot fluid and brain matter spilled as the sharp iron clove deep into the hound's head. It drove right through to the spinal column and there, it stuck in bone. By the time she realized there was a problem, it was too late. The dying animal's weight and her own bulwark-solid stance conspired against the sword, and it snapped.

As it came free of the newly made corpse, she heard more on the way. Still gripping the broken blade, she turned and bolted further down the tunnel.

That had been the third hound she'd killed and it never stopped being satisfying. After years of bites and watching her brothers and sisters being mauled for punishment or base entertainment, she could live a happy life if she were only allowed to spend it killing their entire species, one beast at a time.

But her kind hadn't been created as fools. The masters had loosed a pack of a dozen to hunt her down after her 'sin'. Fighting on open ground would have been suicide, even if she used all of her potential. Falling back to the cave reduced the number that could come at her at once and removed flanking from the equation, at least for a while.

That had been a good plan, back before the shield had been torn off her arm, or when she didn't have claw marks oozing blood along her back or a chunk nipped out of her calf. In retrospect, she should have waited until she was in full armor before making good her escape.

Fortunately, she was built and bred to fight until torn into pieces. She would run until she was cornered and then, even with only a broken sword, she would bring as many as she could with her into death's arms. Fighting like an animal if necessary. Like a demon. Tooth and claw.

That last thought settled in on her like a mantle of ice. Self consciously, she checked her hand. Still nails. No thicker. Good.

The cave floor began to slope sharply, and she found herself skidding down it instead of running. Suddenly, there was light up ahead. Lines of white radiance.

They were leaking out from around an iron door. It was half again her height with no visible hinges. The only feature was a wheel set into its face, like that found on the vaults where the masters performed their works.

She managed to stop before slamming into it, and blinked in surprise. Why was this here? Had she really just fled directly to the home of her hated enemy?

More growling breaths. The hounds were coming. If this was some secret abode or laboratory of some other hailene, she stood a much better chance of killing him and possibly taking weapons or defenses from the corpse than she did making a stand at the door.

She tucked the broken sword into her belt (the scabbard was lost at the cave's mouth) and seized the wheel.

It was rusted hard, but still moved grudgingly. Muscles knotted along her arms and back as, inch by inch, she forced it to move. The growls and snarls were closer. This was taking too long. She couldn't do this, and if she kept at it, she would die with her back to the enemy.

Heat filled her belly. No, she would not fail. There was strength; a great, deep well of it. All it took was not fearing or resenting it. It was hers to use after all, not the masters'.

An itching sensation crept over her arms. Her gorge rose as she saw the tiny scales, shaped like rounded kite-shields, sprouting like a fungus. Thickening, hardened nails bit into the metal of the wheel and suddenly, the rust wasn't groaning and resisting, it was screaming as the wheel turned freely.

In an instant, the door swung open and the first hound arrived. She stepped into the sudden brightness beyond the door and then with all the strength pressed into her flesh and bones by the masters, she slammed the door and turned the wheel on the inside face of it until the bolt slid home once again.

The hound slammed into the iron, making it rattle in the stone around it. But it could not get inside.

Seconds passed and she stood there, pressing the door closed as if to supplement the bolt, staring at the gleaming red scales. Despite the sickness rolling in her stomach, she forced herself to be calm. And with that act of will, the scales wilted, receding into her flesh.

_I smell hot blood_.

The voice was rough and deep, like some primordial reptile trying the words on for size.

She turned, the sword coming up into her hands in a smooth motion. Before it was broken, it had been larger than that which any normal demi-human could carry in one hand, not even a hailene. But she was special, even by the standards of muddled ang'hailene genetics. Even in its current state, the sword made for a reasonably long blade.

There was no one to threaten with it.

She was standing alone in a domed chamber, roughly hewn from the rock and girded with iron buttresses that met in the shadowed ceiling above. The floor had been ground smooth and in the center of it stood a thicket of stone pillars, each marked with carved maze patterns and topped by a globe of cold, white magical flame.

There was no logic or aesthetic to the placement of the pillars except the fact that they vaguely surrounded a central point. Thick chains of iron, copper, and silver were strung from them to loop around the thing in the center.

She had only ever seen iron maidens in the captured dungeons of some of the folk the hailene made war with. This was something of a kind. Made of dull stone, it looked like a huge sarcophagus stood upright. There was the likeness of a stoic man with a short beard and a scythe held across his chest carved into it, and there were spikes of black metal driven into it like nails into soft wood. The chains wrapped around and looped over these.

Suspended in the chains, over the carved figure's chest, was a stone tablet with faded writing etched on it.

She wondered at just what she was looking at as the hound slammed into the door behind her again.

_But your soul is strong._ The voice came again, still with no origin.

She presented the sword forcefully to the room. "Who are you?" She demanded.

Read the tablet.

There wasn't anywhere else to go and arguing with a disembodied voice held no appeal, so she carefully strode into the thicket of pillars and approached the sarcophagus.

Though the writing was of a type she had never seen before, she felt some magic at work that allowed her to understand it:

'Here lies the great weapon, Rune Breaker. When blood is paid and the bargain struck, a strong soul will command the mightiest of weapons.'

The symbols that evidently stood for 'Rune Breaker' were carved differently than the others, in such a way that made them stand out in a series of sharp points.

There were multiple thumps against the door. The pack had arrived and once they coordinated, they would have the strength to break in.

Someone is here to end your life.

She turned to face the door, readying her sword. "I know this."

Do you want to die, deep inside the earth, alone and unmourned?

"Of course not." She said without emotion. "But it's happening anyway."

It doesn't have to. Spill your blood on the tablet. Strike the bargain. Swear to use me as you will.

"What insanity are you speaking? Who are you?"

You read the tablet. You know.

More impacts on the door. Tiny avalanches of dust and pebbles shook loose from the cave wall surrounding it.

"You want me to believe that I've stumbled across some sort of hidden weapon? You're some demon looking to trick and use me." She insisted, never shifting her ready stance.

Worse than a demon. But in a few moments, you will be torn to pieces. What are you really risking? I ask again: do you want to die here?

She chewed her lip. If she fought, it was in her nature, she would fight with everything she had. She would give in and she would die... like _that_. There was no fear of death, but she wanted to die as a person instead of a weapon.

"No. I don't want to die here."

Then do it now. Spill your blood on the tablet.

She turned to face the tablet. The dangers were obvious; she was no fool and knew that there were ways to control or harm or entrap a person with their blood, and the worst of them needed it to be freely given. She might gain this 'mighty weapon', or she might become blood-bound to a demon. But then how much worse could service to a demon be than serving the vile hailene, who had mistreated, enslaved and disfigured her so?

Left hand steady, she placed it on the raised, sharpened letters and pressed. The stone bit her skin and then her crimson life was pooling and dribbling across the stone. The chains, to a one, quivered and rattled.

_Now swear._ Said the voice. _Swear to use me as you will. To work your will through me. Accept the bond._

"I do." She said with all the false confidence she could muster.

The magical flames guttered out. The chains went taunt, straining with metallic groans.

"The bargain has been struck. The bond is formed." Only now did she realize that she hadn't actually been hearing the voice before. It had been in her head. Now it was a sound and a foreboding and terrible one at that. It continued to grow in intensity and volume as it spoke. "Dissolving containment protocols."

Once more, the chains strained and flexed. They crumbled the pillars in their coils and leapt at the sarcophagus, wrapping tightly around it until cracks began to appear.

"Aligning spell structures for core array. Slaving to arcane command link and aligning command array..." Chunks of stone exploded off the sarcophagus, revealing hollows within. Within seconds, it was destroyed and the chains wrapped themselves around a man-sized shape within the resultant dust cloud.

Foreign emotions invaded her head as she watched: a cruel form of manic glee, contained brooding anger, and smug satisfaction. Then it struck her almost like a physical blow: they weren't her thoughts but the Rune Breaker's.

The surrounding dust thinned and he stood before her, bound in ever-constricting chains. Tall and thin, but nowhere near her height. He looked like a human, dressed in some sort of thick, black canvas in a rough approximation of a great coat and breeches that left his emaciated chest bare. Wild, midnight hair as long as he was tall whipped around him, writhing like tentacles.

"Retracting tertiary containment spells." He said, more quietly and slightly less brusquely than before. The chains around him began to melt into his body. Soon his arms were free to hang at his sides. He stood up straight and hovered a few feet up into the air.

Her nose tingled with the sheer amount of ambient magic around him.

The hounds had been forgotten, but they now made themselves known with a collective effort against the door. It held, but barely; fist sized chunks of stone crumbled around it.

The Rune Breaker stared at her with an inscrutable expression. Anticipation grew in the back of her head. He was waiting for something – but what?

Another slam against the door. More stone fell. His gaze flicked over to it.

"Do you wish for me to kill them, Mistress?"

She reeled. Not at the question, but at the appellation. And when his expression changed to confusion, followed instantly by that same feeling in her head, it became all too clear that the emotional exchange worked both ways. This did nothing to help the paralysis induced by his statement.

The next hit tore the door free of its frame, causing it to fall into the room with a ringing din that echoed again and again within the chamber.

Terrible excitement spread out like an oily film in her head and she looked at him, taken aback. It wasn't showing on his face, but he was giddy with blood-lust.

"It has been decided without you." He informed her. "The first priority is preventing my master from coming to harm." His right arm came up and swept her aside as the first hounds to recover came bounding in. It shouldn't have been possible, he was probably only three quarters her weight and not even planted on the ground on top of that.

She forced the shock and confusion down and slid into a sword stance so she could meet the hounds.

That proved unnecessary as the same arm that swept her aside suddenly twisted and the canvas covering it deformed. A trio of black thorns, each some eight inches long, formed on the side facing away from her. With astonishing speed, it reversed direction and, still twisting and growing, slammed into the first hound. Two thorns tore into the animal's throat, the last punched up through its jaw, through the palate and into the brain. It would have been dead even if the surging strength behind the arm hadn't launched it into the far wall hard enough to shatter its ribs.

Even less lucky was the next hound to leap at them, for the Rune Breaker still had a free hand. This one had become some sort of colossal, black cleaver while she wasn't looking and it fell from overhead like a meteor strike, severing the animal's front leg, two ribs, and any number of organs while at the same time hammering it to the stone floor.

All the while, the blood-lust built and rattled around gleefully in her skull. There had been berserkers of a sort in the hailene army. But never something like this. It wasn't so much a rage that drove one to kill, as the joy of an artist whose medium was warfare.

Another beast leapt at him and he brought his arms back across his body as twin war hammers that crushed its shoulders. This time, it wasn't enough and the hound used its hind legs to power through, catching his shoulder with its teeth.

That lasted for the space of a breath before the strange man seemed to melt and flow until a huge, black anaconda was wrapped around the hapless animal, crushing the life from it. A brutal attack, but a wasteful one; in doing so, he left an opening for two more hounds to rush toward his apparent charge.

She met the first as it leapt at her, working her forearm up under its jaw to hold it away from her by the throat. Huge paws tore at her shoulders, but she ignored them, thrusting her broken blade into its belly and emptying its guts onto the floor.

By that time, the second had come around to flank her. It wasn't fast enough. She turned and used the body of the first as a shield, pushing it back while swiping for the newcomer's eyes. The beast evaded losing its eyes, but couldn't save itself when a massive, black dire-wolf hit it from the side, snapping huge jaws at its neck.

The hound's luck held and it scudded sideways from the initial blow, avoiding the lethal follow-through. Two more packmates came to its rescue by leaping onto the great wolf's back.

Dropping her corpse-shield, she darted in, driving her sword into one of the hound's haunches and using it as leverage to pull it off her new ally. Even as she did, the nearby dire wolf was transforming, fur and lean muscle giving way to leathery skin and heavy carapace.

It was a creature she'd never seen before. A heavy knob- and spike-covered shell, like a dragon turtle, and a face combining lizard and bovine features. Most striking was a long, muscular tail ending in a two-knotted club of bone.

The remaining hound couldn't keep a hold on the hard carapace and when it slipped off, it paid by way of being crushed into a smear on the near wall by that same club.

Showing their intelligence, the remaining three hounds broke off their attack, regrouping across the chamber. Out of range of that killing club.

The new, strange animal ambled into position between she and them, waving the club menacingly to show its weight.

Wary, the hounds started to fan out. He could only kill one at a time, the swordswoman one more. She could see the logic working in their heads. This was what they were created for: intelligent attrition.

Unfortunately for them, their logic was missing several key facts. And the Rune Breaker was proud to show them their error. Once more, his form shifted, expanding and growing as the carapace split into a pair of massive, leathery wings.

Not for the first time in the battle, she was stunned beyond thought.

There in the chamber, standing between her and the murderous hounds, stood a black dragon, wings unfurled to fill a full quarter of the room.

The itching started again on her arms and down her back. Heat filled her belly; that hateful, hateful heat.

"No!" She shouted, not realizing it was out loud. Her voice bounced around the room like an entity of its own. Nightmares of scales and wings; a throat full of liquid fire, all tore through her mind. Her grip on the broken sword became painful.

And somehow because of this, the dragon before her shivered and its body dissolved into dark mist that sank and spread to cover the ground.

The sight was more than enough to jar her back to reality. What just happened? Was that her doing?

My apologies, Mistress.

"Stop calling me that." She snarled.

There wasn't any time to argue. All three hounds saw that the way to their target was open and they rushed for her as a single being.

Without warning, the mist erupted. A slick, black stalagmite stabbed up from the floor and impaled one, hoisting it into the air as a grizzly monument. A man-sized talon, like that of a roc, emerged, grabbing the second and hurling it into the chamber ceiling. The third was simply enveloped in the cloying darkness and was gone.

Silence suddenly returned to the chamber.

Slowly, the mist began to rotate around a central point, which began to rise up into human shape.

"My master is no longer in danger of harm. Spell limitations have been reset to safe levels." The Rune Breaker said as the last wisps of his person returned to his body. This time, he was clothed in dark gray robes and a cloak of the same color. His hair was cropped close.

Grip still tight enough to deform the metal in her hand, she all but growled at him. "I'm no one's master. Don't call me that."

"The bond requires I speak respectfully to you." He said, his voice now even, the blood-lust gone. But an underlying anger still in her head and growing at his mention of the bond.

She puzzled at this, but her mind was more on the issue of 'mistresses' and 'masters' at the moment. "You can speak respectfully without using those terms. Call me... " She wracked her brain for something useful. The hailene _liked_ being called 'master' and 'lord' and any of their military titles. Their enemies were less pompous though, and had milder honorifics. "'Miss' will do, I suppose."

"'Miss' what?" He asked. "I do not know the mis... your name." He seemed vaguely troubled at this course of action, an emotion she could verify using the bond.

"Taylin." She said. "And I suppose I'm to call you Rune Breaker?"

"If you wish. Your most recent predecessors did."

"But is that what you'd like to be called?" Her military training started to kick in and unconsciously, she started cleaning blood from her sword with the tattered hem of her shirt.

This question called up even more uncertainty and unease in the bond. "It doesn't matter. The wielder names their weapon. And I am a weapon."

Phantoms of the itching in her arms and back haunted her mind for a moment and she abruptly stopped cleaning her sword. Her expression became adamant and angry. "So am I." Her voice was firm and loud enough to fill the chamber. "And I am tired of it not mattering. Now tell me who you are."

"Is that an order?" He asked.

"Yes." And the moment she said that, she felt a very faint, cold chill in the back of her head. It wasn't an emotion, but something about the bond itself... moving or changing... maybe just operating.

The Rune Breaker lowered his head and his voice became emotionless and subdued. "Yes, Miss Taylin. The name of Rune Breaker is a pun, in your modern language, on the ancient name I was born with and a reference to my abilities."

He straightened up, floating off the ground again until his head was of a height with hers. But his eyes were still downcast. "I am the shape-shifting master. The arcane terror of nations long dead. The weapon bound by the most complex spell structures ever devised in the history of two worlds to serve the strongest of souls.

"I am kingmaker. Beast slayer. The foundation of tyranny. The destroyer of armies and the power of ancestral gods. Use me as you will and I will rain oblivion on your enemies. Work your will through me and all barriers before you will be utterly decimated. Direct me in the service of your greatest desires and you will rule nations."

Without warning, he dropped to a knee, supported by one fist on the smooth, stone floor. "My name is Ru Brakar. And until you breathe your last, I am your servant and weapon. Such was the bargain you struck and sealed in blood."

# Chapter 2 – Consequence and Conscience

Ru's words tore into Taylin's stomach in ways that the hounds would never have accomplished. She stumbled back from him until her back found the wall. Through her threadbare shirt, the cool rock irritated the area around the scars there. Scars that were all that was left of a birthright taken from her by the hailene.

"No!" The statement echoed off the domed roof. "That isn't right. I don't want this."

From where he'd come to kneel, Ru lifted his head. His face was without emotion, and his eyes, not quite the right shape for a human and amber besides, observed her. In the link, she could feel his measured curiosity overtaking all else.

"You made the bargain, Miss Taylin."

Taylin's back slid along the wall until she found herself in a crouch. Years of conditioning and berating from taskmasters made it difficult to sit fully. She took notice of just how much of a hold her old masters still had on her and forced herself to sit.

"I didn't know what you were talking about. I didn't know the Rune Breaker was a person."

Ru laughed and the coldness in the sound came through in the link as well. With little apparent effort, he stood smoothly from kneeling. "I'm not. The man died so long ago that not even his dust remains. All that's left of Ru Brakar are his powers and skill, imprisoned by spellcraft and artifice."

Taylin bled slowly, but she had a lot of wounds to bleed from. The blood loss was starting to make her lightheaded. "That's not true." The words came out slurred.

"I can feel... you feel." That didn't make any sense and she knew it. The minimal combat medicine she'd been taught came back to her. She needed to stop the bleeding.

No bandages. The stiff canvas shirt she wore was in tatters and soaked through with blood; both hers and from others. Her thick wool leggings were also torn and bloodied,on top of being caked in mud and dust. Without the adrenaline of battle, she was starting to doubt she'd be able to tie a bandage properly in her condition anyway.

A sly, smug feeling came from Ru, though his expression didn't change. He floated over to her, feet only inches above the ground so that the charcoal gray robes and cloak dragged across the stone. When he was directly in front of her, he sank down into a cross-legged position.

This close, the height difference and size difference in general were striking. Thought he was tall for a human, Ru was still a head shorter than Taylin. Even slumped as she was, her warrior's frame made two of the taunt whip of his scholarly build.

He stared at her without seeming to see her for the space of a breath. "You are bleeding to death, Miss Taylin." There wasn't anything to argue with there; she knew as much already. No use wasting her last energy with that. From the link, she could tell that the prospect of her demise didn't concern him one way or another, but he was annoyed that the statement didn't draw a better response.

A moment later, he tried again. "You said before that you did not wish to die here."

And she had told him that it didn't look like she had a choice.

"And you were wrong."

That got a start from her. She knew for a fact that she hadn't said those words out loud. She'd only been thinking them.

"Another facet of the link. You can speak with me, issue commands at range with a thought." Ru explained. "It is a complicated piece of spell structuring with many rules governing it. For example, you can read my thoughts, but I can only hear what comes to the surface of yours." He leaned forward. "Right now, you still do not want to die."

Once again, there was no point in arguing. It was obvious from the start. Why bother telling her that when they also both knew these were her last moments?

But Ru kept talking, his voice even and deep and entirely sinister. Now, he put the palm of his hand on her forehead and gently pushed her head back against the wall. Taylin wanted to fight, but couldn't. She didn't like being touched.

"For example, I am required to protect you from harm. But I am not required to stop you from bleeding to death, even though it would be nothing for me to heal you."

Gloating. That's what it was. He had managed to strike a bargain to get free of his bonds, and in the process, managed to shake off the inconvenient 'master' that came with it. If she weren't watching the world swirl and fade because of it, she might be proud of him for killing someone who enslaved him.

"Your only hope now is to order me to heal you." He said, hand still on her head. "Just think the command and you will not die, Miss Taylin"

Taylin didn't know if it was the blood loss or the nausea that made her stomach roll at that. Probably both, plus a slowly kindling anger. How dare he give her that choice: become one of the things she'd tried so hard to escape, or perish just hours after making herself free.

The last of her strength was dedicated to reaching up and brushing his hand aside. She would die a good death after all.

***

Warmth flooded her. The afterlife? It made sense. The closest to this combination of physical and spiritual warmth flowing through her were the times that a sympathetic or, more commonly, efficiency-minded taskmaster deigned to use combat healing to get her back into battle or to work.

What she was feeling now was greater than the sum of all those instances combined. A river of light and warmth enfolding her body, dulling the sharp edges of her hurts, gently tugging her torn flesh into proper shape. It infused every tissue and every thought. Comparing that to what she felt before was the difference between a single rain drop and a deluge.

Her scattered thoughts chained together again, regaining the shape of coherency. Perhaps she shouldn't have feared death. Here she felt peace, comfort and pleasure that she'd never known in the mines or on the ships. It was as close to joy as she'd ever dared seek.

And then her hands began to itch. And the muscles in her back knotted.

No!

It couldn't be happening here, even in death. Not even in the afterlife could she escape the things the hailene had put inside her.

This time, there was so much strength behind her limbs that when she struck out, Ru turned a quarter circle before his balance failed him and he felt into a stunned heap on his side. Surprise and irritation filled the link as the green-black light that had enveloped her dissipated.

She gasped at the residual ecstasy from the healing before remembering the itching. A quick glance revealed that the very first little patches of scales were showing on her skin. She willed them away. Only then did she remember Ru.

"I'm sorry." She said quickly, reaching over to help him up. Though he neither accepted, nor fought; she quickly had him sitting up again. "I didn't know what was happening. I thought I was dead and..."

Horror dawned on her. "Oh no. I ended up ordering you to heal me, didn't I?"

Surprise was quickly transforming into confusion and curiosity in the link, but only within a sizable nest of irritation.

"You did not, Miss Taylin.".

It was her turn to be surprised. "Why? If I died, then you would be free." For some reason, that irritated him even more.

"I would not have been free." He said, his face still bereft of emotion. "In the event you die or relinquish the link, the containment spells will be reinstated within thirty hours, during which time, I will be compelled to find or construct with my power a place such as this to wait for my next master."

"Oh." She said flatly. "So you think it's better to...," She felt sick at the word, "serve me than be imprisoned again."

Ru didn't even think about it. "I'm not so certain. My half-oblivion existence while contained is a torment, but you seem averse to exercising my abilities, even when your life depends on it. If this is the case, one is the same as the other for me."

There was no way that he was going to make her feel guilty for not ordering him around. But knowing the choices: being bound to someone or being sealed in isolation, she felt for him. Evidently, he sensed that in her and it made him even more annoyed.

"Then why did you heal me?" She asked.

"Because I cannot allow harm to come to you." He said and once again got to his feet.

She did the same, after finding the sword on the floor beside her and taking it up. It never hurt to have a weapon about you, even a ruined one. "But you said it would allow you to let me bleed out."

Ru turned from her and glided over to the fallen door, contemplating it intensely. "The link allows me to lie unless ordered not to."

There was the smugness again. He'd tried to trick her into giving him an order. The little flame of anger she felt when she thought he was mocking her in death lit again, but it was prevented from burning over.

Back on the ships, she'd seen some her brothers and sisters, fellow ang'hailene, give in to who and what they were completely. They had become more like dogs than the hounds were; ready and joyful in the pursuit of their masters' goals. They reported dutifully all dissent and unrest; even killing their own if it was even suggested it would please the overseers and taskmasters.

Before it was broken, the sword in her hand had put an end to three like that. She felt no joy in it, even as she knew that they would have killed her gladly if they were only a bit stronger or more skilled than she was.

Somehow though, Ru didn't fit that. He tried to get her to issue an order, yes. But he made no secret that he didn't like her. It seemed that every word or thought of hers bit at him like a case of fleas he wasn't allowed to scratch. So what was it that made him attempt that gambit?

When she looked back at him, he had become an ogre; all gray-brown flab over hulking muscle. Without ceremony, he bent and worked stubby fingers under the collapsed frame off the door and with only a small effort creasing his hairy brow, lifted it back into place. Then with only a gesture, he worked some form of magic to make the stone around it whole again.

"Why are you doing that?" She asked quietly. The acoustics of the dome made it carry.

He glanced back at her and the ogre melted into the human shape she assumed was his base form. "Because I have done nothing for over one hundred and fifty years, Ms. Taylin." He said. "A simple spell could have done. And really, there is no need to make repairs to this place. But I can, therefore I am."

Taylin frowned. He'd been closed up in that... thing for three times as long as she'd even been alive. Almost as long as it was even possible for her to _be_ alive. For her, it was her entire adolescence. For a human, if he truly was human, it was two entire lifetimes.

Reading her thoughts, Ru replied as he went about testing the door. "I've been sealed for longer periods than that. By the bonds of these spells, I've outlived civilizations you have not even heard of; so thoroughly were they wiped from this world. The designer knew the torment simple boredom can inflict."

Taylin slipped the truncated sword into her belt. It wouldn't be needed for a time at least. "Is that why you tried to force me into giving you an order?"

"Partially." He said stoically. The swirl of emotion and thought in the link stilled. Was he blocking it somehow? "Miss Taylin, the thing you must understand is that I would rather be a weapon than nothing."

She chewed her lip. Others she had known shared that attitude as well. The work became everything to them, no matter what it was. That could at least be respected, not like the sycophantic slaves. Yet when the idea of rebellion would come about, they were useless, unable to imagine anything but the work. That Ru did not fit either.

"There are other options." She suggested. "We could simply walk out of here and go our separate ways. You would be free to do as you please, free from me as long as I live."

"Heh." Ru laughed harshly. She couldn't tell what was behind it with the link clouded, but it didn't sound cruel. Just a laugh from someone who didn't engage in such a thing in a genuine way very often. "You think that you're more clever than the architects of these bonds?"

It wasn't the first time she'd been called clever. 'Taylin' actually meant 'clever girl' in the speech of the hailene. She remembered being called Pele, which meant the same thing in Vishnari: the common tongue of the empire the hailene were at war with, though she couldn't recall by whom.

'Clever girl' were the last words of her former Sky-captain. He'd forgotten that she was proof against fire in the course of punishing her for being too clever for his tastes and she'd used the spell he intended to harm her with to melt the rune-covered collar on her neck that compelled against violent retribution. If he hadn't paused to mock her, he probably could have stopped her from kicking her discarded sword off the planks and into her hands. After that, nothing could have stopped his fate. She was too good a swordswoman to lose to a weaker foe in close quarters.

But she remembered being called Pele before, vaguely. And then it had not been said in cruel tones, but proud, soft ones...

Taylin brushed the thoughts aside. A dream from her childhood, remembered as if it were fact.

She was suddenly aware of curiosity and a hint of blood-lust in the link. She looked up to see Ru staring at her. He'd evidently seized upon the memory of the Sky-captain's death, but even more obvious was the fact that he'd noticed her drift off for some appreciable amount of time.

"It won't work?" She asked.

"They considered every contingency, Miss Taylin." He said with a nod. "Otherwise, I could abandon an unconscious master to their fate. If I don't witness a threat of harm, and am not informed of it by my master, the link cannot compel me to action. Therefore, if I separate myself willingly from my master by too great a distance, the retribution engine is initialized."

Either by anticipating her next question, or simply by plucking it from her mind, he added: "It is a method of punishment; wracking pain and paralysis as well as disorientation and a cancellation of my powers." He carefully let a feeling of finality into the link. The matter was closed as far as he was concerned.

Taylin respected that and changed the subject. "You're skilled in magic. Why didn't you use it against the hounds until the end?"

Whatever method he used to cloud the link stopped doing so in order for her to feel the amusement he next felt at the question. "Why did I lift the door instead of levitate it? I care not for efficiency or expediency. The point has been impressed upon me that I am eternal."

He flexed his spindly arms and studied his closed fists. The sleeves of his robe obliged him by subtly dissolving until his arms were exposed to the elbow. "Therefore, I feel no compulsion not to embrace the feeling of power coursing through these veins, the pride of tension in my back, or the satisfaction of my own teeth and claws bringing oblivion to those that oppose me."

"I'm sorry." Taylin said in a small voice, as he stood there, apparently lost in his own dramatics.

"What?" He asked flippantly.

"For what happened to you. However it happened. And for... being in control of you. Is there really no other option?" She furrowed her brow, trying hard to communicate her sincerity to him in the same way he broadcast his own emotions to her.

What she got was another wave of confusion and a feeling of being off balance. That was swallowed once again by his frustration, seemingly his dominant emotion.

He continued to stare at his fists. They weren't impressive in human form. Not by a long shot. But he looked at them as if intending to use them to punch through a mountain. "There is always the option of actually making use of me, Miss Taylin."

"No. There isn't."

"Why not?" He snarled, his frustration mounting. "If you had found an iron cask and a jinni inside, you would not have hesitated to beseech him for wishes. If you knew a spell to bind a lord of devils, there would be no morality preventing you from forcing a beneficial bargain."

Without even thinking, she put her hand on her sword's pommel, a classic intimidation tactic when dealing with enemy prisoners. "I don't want a slave." She said firmly. "You've seen some of my memories, I can tell. Would you like to see more? Will that convince you?"

"I do not care, Miss Taylin." He made sure she felt his apathy. "But perhaps you would like to recollect your one hundred and seven predecessors. Behold the greatness they attained through me, see their empires carved out and the centuries of their legacy. Would that convince you?"

Taylin sighed. "You simply don't understand. I don't want an empire, or riches, or greatness. I just want to live my life my own way: free. I want a home, friends, a life without war and slavery."

Ru straightened his back. "And you think that will be allowed you? I _have_ seen your memories. The ones that stirred in any event; and the ones that you dredged up at this very moment. You former masters are making war with the entire world and spitting in the faces of the gods to do it."

He folded his arms, allowing the sleeves to regenerate. "If they have their way, there won't be peace in this world in a human lifespan. Not until they conquer the whole of their enemy. Which I shall remind you is the entire world." A new emotion slithered into Taylin's mind from the link; slick, elusive and suggestive. She couldn't guess at what it was. She never felt it herself, that was certain.

"But..." His voice dropped an octave. "You now have in your hands a weapon. A means to exact revenge upon them; to end their ambitions of conquest in flame and darkness. Each and every one of them will lament at what they've done to you as the crows come to peck at the corpse of every great work they've created. Everything that is them shall be ground away to dust. Wet in their blood and tears, and fired into a shape of your own design."

It was clear in the link that he was quiet proud of the picture he presented and expected her to respond in kind. But Taylin recoiled in revulsion from it, actually taking several steps back from him.

"No!" She shouted, flinching from nightmares that existed only in her mind's eye and Ru's words. "That isn't what I want! I don't want revenge or to grind away at anyone. I only want what I said. Peace. A life. And... and if that's impossible now, I'd rather sleep a thousand years until this world... this life is a crumbling nightmare known only as ancient history."

Ru paused in his ruminations on how exactly to ruin Taylin's former masters to gaze directly at her. The mounting blood-lust and cruelty in the link stopped and it stilled. Not blocked this time, but transformed into the dull buzz of consideration.

"Is that really what you wish, Ms. Taylin?" He asked. His tone had all the care of a hospitaller's touch.

"Yes!" She said, anguished by the thought of what she'd been offered. "Anything is better than this. In fact, I wish you could do exactly that."

He was no jinni, granting wishes wasn't his business, and she was not in the frame of mind to think through exactly what she was asking. But it was enough to count. It would be a massive drain, even on his considerable powers; but the return was in time. Time to plot and examine the link. To put his sorcerous genius to work, and to act as he pleased provided it was near enough to the cavern to avoid the retribution engine.

Just veiling his emotions in the link had taken him decades; and even then, he could only do it in short bursts. But with a thousand years... The former slave's reluctance toward the darker thoughts he'd come to expect of everyone who had ever taken up the link might not be so wasteful.

"As you wish, Miss Taylin." He brought up his hands in a very specific gesture: first and middle fingers together, thumbs forward. He spoke only two words of invocation. With his vast power and skill it took nothing more than that to erect the appropriate spell array composed of the psychic energy, _psi_ , and the void energy, _vox_. Maintaining it and keeping Taylin alive could come later. "Nightmare Syndrome."

His robe grew a cloak as black as burnt wood and tattered like the mainsail of a ghost galleon. An invisible wind whipped it forward, causing it to stretch beyond it's apparent limits.

Taylin didn't notice until she was already surrounded by billowing folds of shadowy cloth.

"Ru? What are you doing? Ru?!" The cloth was everywhere, its noise canceling out all other sound and its fluttering bulk obscuring everything. It contracted close, too close. Something primal within her screamed and spurred her to action.

Flailing, she caught handful of cloth after handful of cloth. Tearing, ripping, casting aside. She lashed out with every ounce of her warrior's ferocity, and with every sheet of cloth she tore down, she stepped closer to its source.

It felt like eternity, but finally, she sensed a body near. And by now, she didn't care about the feelings or dignity of its owner. She lunged forth once more, shunting aside the cloak and finding Ru's face beyond it. Then she planted her fist into it.

Ru crumpled almost dutifully. But he didn't seem to fall that far. Had he been sitting down? Now that she looked, she was sitting too, with her back propped against the wall. There were no signs of cloth; not one torn edge. But she did see where one of the hounds had fallen. Its body was desiccated to a husk of brittle skin and hair, the dull, dirty white of bones and teeth exposed by drying and receding flesh.

It was then that her breath caught and she started choking. The air was close and stale, without a drop of humidity. Though her lungs filled, they burned at finding nothing of worth to extract from it.

Taylin had endured forty years of abuse and conditioning as well as more combat hours than she could remember. She had won her freedom with guile and a broken sword. She had faced the temptation of the greatest weapon in existence and resisted wielding it in anger. From her perspective, she had already cheated death twice that day and came out more healthy than she had ever been.

And now she was being killed by ancient, stale air.

# Chapter 3 – Paradise

"She loves flying." said a voice that Taylin had never been able to put a face to. She was dreaming. Dreaming a dream she'd had many times before. It was always the same: a garden, blue skies, glass between the two, as clear as air.

The earthy smell of the place was so real, so familiar, as was the voice. It never spoke to her, but to someone else she couldn't see.

"And smart too. She can already read, write, and she's coming right along with sums."

Fine brickwork made up the walkways between rows of carefully arranged plants. Some bore fruit; oranges and gathermelons that were wonderfully sticky-sweet. She picked one and tore into it, not minding the green juice that ran down her chin.

"She isn't just special in the way I intended. She's become my very clever girl."

Then the voice was lost in a roar. The wind over an aerial troop ship at cruising speed. Chains bound her arms and there was stone pressing against her chest and stomach.

"Do your duty, Captain." said a new voice. A cruel voice. One that hated her as much as the first one loved her. "This one has lost the right to wings. I see it as a mercy, seeing how ugly they are." Then there was white-hot pain. And always the wind.

***

Taylin awakened, wracked with a terrible coughing fit that tore at her throat and sent her body into spasms. Unable to stop it, she rolled onto her belly and coughed up the dust from the stale, reeking air she'd taken into her lungs earlier.

But the wind she'd heard was real. A powerful wind had appeared in the room; not just the movement of air, but the movement of the fresh air she sorely needed. With it came a mild yellow light; brighter than the magical torches, but far less harsh.

After minutes of hyperventilating and ridding herself of dead air, Taylin cautiously settled onto her side and looked to see where the light came from.

Fifty feet above her head, where the curve of the dome was well shrouded in darkness, there was a gap as large as her head in the air, bounded by arcs of white lightning. Through that gap, she saw not the stone ceiling, but an azure sky and white wisps of clouds.

"What..." She wheezed and coughed again.

"Short range teleportaton, Miss Taylin." Ru's rough voice said from somewhere to her right. "Held at the very moment wherein that space is in two locations at once."

Taylin had no idea what that actually meant, but the moment she sighted him, lying flat on his back, directly beneath the hole in the air, only one thing was important. She scrambled to her feet and dropped her hand to her sword. "You tried..." She had to pause for breath, "To kill me."

A sour feeling came into the link, yet another of his emotions she couldn't identify; possibly indignation. "I did not."

She gripped the hilt of her only weapon and slipped into a stance that would maximize the effect of drawing and striking in the same motion. "Then why did I wake up choking?"

"Why am I rectifying that issue?" Ru replied, but they both knew the answer to that: he had to.

After a moment of silence, he exhaled sharply. "I attempted to work your will. To allow you to sleep for one thousand years. But an outside force intervened."

There was no need for Taylin to voice the myriad questions that provoked. He picked them up directly from her mind.

"It is possible." He explained, spurred by the incredulity he no doubt sensed. "With my power, I could sustain you, at the cost of a substantial drain upon myself. I placed you into a dreamless slumber and created the necessary spell structures to sustain your life. But as I said, an outside agency, a power even beyond my own lashed out at the world. I was forced to split my focus to prevent this chamber from collapsing beneath the onslaught..." The sensation of his hurt pride came through the link, "I succeeded, but was knocked unconscious in the effort."

Slowly, Taylin digested this information. A glance above revealed that some places in the ceiling were now worn and crushed to mirror-smoothness. Those patches glittered like jewels in the chaotic light of the portal Ru continued to maintain.

"That doesn't explain why the air was so dead when I woke up." She finally said, still unwilling to let go of her mistrust.

"Because that is what happens to the atmosphere in a sealed room over centuries with no one to maintain it, Miss Taylin. To say nothing of the rotting corpses."

His words struck like a bolt of lightning. Centuries? That had to be a lie. The link didn't prevent that. But what did he stand to gain by it? Did that really matter? There was no way she'd been asleep for a thousand years.

Again, he skimmed the thoughts directly from her mind. "You are correct, Ms. Taylin. Between the power I expended preventing the chamber's collapse, and being incapacitated to the point that I couldn't regenerate said power, I would not have survived sustaining you for ten centuries."

Taylin would have relaxed a bit, if not for the fact that he was still talking.

"When I regained my senses, I ended the spell on you; at which point, you struck me." There was no recrimination or hurt at that, just informing her what happened. She could tell he didn't give a damn one way or the other, but for some reason, that made her feel worse.

And in spite of it all, she sensed an unmistakable ring of truth from him. Whether it was from the link, or her own instincts, she didn't know. She released her sword and heaved a sigh. "I thought you were attacking me. From now on, please—and this is a request, not an order—make sure I know what you're doing before you do something like that." No apologies. She felt guilty for the link and bad to punching him, but he should have known better in the second case.

"I will make the effort, Miss Taylin." Ru said, sitting up in a smooth, swift manner that no normal man could match.

She nodded. "Good. And don't... assume I'm giving you orders. I don't want to and I'd rather you stop trying to make me do it."

He stood, brushing himself off dramatically. He did everything with at least a dose of overwrought. "You could order me to stop." He pointed out, smugness and dark humor emanating from him. Then he turned his attention to the door. It was nearly surrounded by the glassy stone that resulted from a battle of his raw power against the unknown force.

"However, the cave you followed to this place was collapsed and fused. Unless your training or abilities include burrowing through eight hundred feet of solid stone, you will require my abilities."

A huff of unhappy air erupted from Taylin and she bared her teeth at him in a way that made it clear that she wasn't smiling. "Stop. Just stop. This spell, it connects us. I understand that. But it doesn't force me to treat you like a slave, so I refuse to. Does it prevent you from helping me out of charity and camaraderie without an order?"

Ru grimaced at her continued insistence at this argument. "Do you have a camaraderie with your sword? Does the sword bound out on its own volition to strike your foes because it cares about you and wants to help? No, it cleaves because you wield it."

Taylin sent him a lance of her own annoyance and folded her arms and looked around the chamber, her eyes finally falling on the portal high above. "Ru?"

"Yes, Miss Taylin?"

"Where does the other side of that portal lead?"

"It opens at ground level directly above the chamber; the shortest distance to fresh air I could locate." He replied, looking up at it as well.

"And what happens if a person touches those edges?"

"The distortion would sunder their flesh where it touched the boundaries, tearing it apart on a basic level, such that there would not even be blood remaining."

She chewed her lip as she came to a difficult decision. "That would be rather harmful to them." Before Ru could decipher that remark, she was off, dashing atop the nearest rubble left over from Ru's awakening. It only offered her a few feet of elevation, but every little bit helped, even with her phenomenal strength.

Two steps and a leap propelled her upward toward the scintillating gap in the air.

Panic exploded in the back of her head and suddenly, the gap enlarged enough for her to pass cleanly through it. Her gambit had been absolutely correct. Tingling raced across her skin as the windy cold of the chamber was replaced by calm and warmth.

A moment later, she landed face down on a slight, grassy slope, surrounded by trees. Salt air teased her nose and a warm breeze lapped at her face. It was something out of a dream, or a memory; simply lying out in the grass beneath the sun. There was no sun in the mines, and no grass on the ships, and yet... there was a fond memory of both together...

From behind her came a sharp buzzing; like a thousand angry hornets trapped in a metal pail. It became higher pitched and more cacophonous until finally terminating in a muffled thunderclap. The portal closing perhaps? Ru was a tiny cyclone of anger and embarrassment that the link unerringly informed her was eight hundred feet directly below her.

A short fit of laughter overtook her as she got up on her knees into a sitting position. It wasn't a noise she was used to making, but it felt good. Slowly, she became aware of the world around her.

The mental blip that was Ru suddenly jumped eight hundred feet to be behind her with no accompanying sound or other sensation. "Ordering me to help is immoral, and yet manipulating and exploiting the link in other ways are not." The growl in his voice faltered in his agitation..

Taylin wasn't listening. She was looking down the slope, to where it became sand before it disappeared into the bay. The bay that hadn't been there when the hounds chased her into the cave.

Very vividly, she remembered how the airships had docked against the face of a line of steep, ocean-side cliffs to send hunting and foraging parties out into the local marshes. She'd seen her chance and instigated the round of discipline that ultimately freed her. The flight that ended at the cave had gone on for five miles.

Five miles that were no longer there.

"Ru..." She said tentatively.

She didn't need to say more. Ru nodded his agreement. "The force that struck me while you slept was more than powerful enough to be responsible for this. As I said, it was vastly more powerful than even myself. We were fortunate to be on the edge of the burst. Had it been more direct, even I may not have survived."

For a time, Taylin marveled at the might it must have taken to carve the bay from those high cliffs. But then something tickled at her logic. "Why didn't it kill all the trees? And the grass? Everything's so alive here, as if nothing's happened at all."

"I imagine that it did kill everything, Ms. Taylin." Ru observed. "But life is resilient and there has been ample time for it to recover."

Taylin turned to look at him so quickly that it made her neck ache to do it. "Ample time? Ru, I thought you said you weren't able to keep me asleep that long."

"Indeed." he nodded. "The attack that did this occurred less than a month after I put you to sleep and the moment I regained my senses, I was forced to release you from that state."

"A month isn't long enough for these trees grow back." She pointed out, then in a flash of realization added, "Or for air to go dead. Or even for the hound corpses to rot and dry like they did."

"You are correct, Miss Taylin." The emotions in the link suddenly became evasive in response to her own mounting anxiety. When he realized she could sense this, it dulled entirely.

"Ru." She said forcefully. "How long has it been?"

"From the condition of the sleep spell, I would estimate three hundred and eighty years. With some margin of error."

Aside from the crash of waves and the calls of seabirds, silence followed. It seemed that despite previous evidence, Ru had either the sense, or the compassion not to comment on the swirl of thoughts that filled Taylin's head. And there were a great many thoughts, more than she expected to have on the subject.

Every cruel master, every traitorous or uncaring shipmate, possibly even every cold, uncomfortable ship she ever called home for the last six years of her life, were gone. The war too, was probably a memory only the chroniclers could tell. No more soldiers, no more orders, no more punishment. She might have been panicking and voicing a fantasy when she asked for it, but she was free.

Far more free than she had been when her only plan was to hide in a cave until the ships gave up searching for her and left. Now, her escape was more complete than any in history. An unbridgeable gulf of time separated her from anyone who wished her harm.

Suddenly, she was laughing again, and jumped to her feet, enjoying even the breeze through her ruined clothes. "Ru, do you know what you've done?" Before she could stop herself, she grabbed him out of the air and pulled him into a tight hug, causing a kaleidoscope of surprise, confusion and other, minor emotions to riot across the link.

He didn't return the embrace. Didn't even move except to speak. "I can assume that it is pleasing to you, Miss Taylin."

Taylin released him and took a few steps back. She hadn't meant to do that anyway. "Yes, Ru. I didn't mean to ask for this, but it's exactly what I wanted." Turning back toward the beach, she took in a deep breath. "Maybe I can really have a life here. Maybe they don't even know what a slave or ang'hailene is!"

Still brimming with new vigor, she ran down the hill and onto the beach. The sand was unforgiving of her stiff soled boots, so she got only two steps before stumbling. Skidding to avoid a fall, she turned and looked back up to the hill.

Ru was silhouetted against the blue sky between two trees, floating just above the hill's peak. She asked him through the link if he was going to join her on the sand. He replied that he didn't see the point. It wasn't worth fighting over, so she unbuckled her boots and partook of the simple pleasure of sitting on the beach, gripping the sand with her toes.

"Remember that house I was talking about?" She called up to him. It was better than using the link; she was rather getting to enjoy the sound and feel of her own voice. Ru preferred the opposite and acknowledged her mentally, using no words at all. "I think I could just build it here. Right on the beach. I know how to fish, what fruits and things you can eat. I learned from being in the foraging parties. So I could probably be just fine here. Of course, I've got to take what you want into consideration, though."

Me?

Taylin glanced up at him. He looked as stoic as ever, but he sounded as if the world wasn't making sense anymore in her head. It was as if he'd never encountered basic decency before. Even she had witnessed the good in people, and she spent her life as a slave.

"Of course you." She replied with a forced laugh. It wasn't funny or amusing, but Ru needed it made clear to him that she thought the idea of treating him as anything less than a fellow demi-human was laughable. "As long as you can't go more than a few leagues from me, it's my responsibility to make certain that you're comfortable within that distance."

Turning fully around, she offered him a friendly smile, which she tried to compound by directing the same feeling through the link. It had the effect of making him flinch.

"So... would you want to build your own little house on the beach?"

Ru surveyed the natural wonders around him and held each in turn with disdain. He was used to stone and cobble. Dust, even was preferable to grass and weeds. His wandering eyes roamed the landscape for something more palatable and found it in the distance.

If required to make a choice in the vicinity, I would prefer the village, Miss Taylin.

Village? Taylin shaded her eyes against the afternoon sun and scanned the bay's coastline. It raced away from her to the west, meeting the mouth of a river as it arced gracefully north to the top half of the crescent, which even to her sight was just a thick, brown line on the horizon. There were no villages there. Not even boats.

_You cannot see it from your vantage, Ms. Taylin._ Ru supplied. _It is not far beyond the river's mouth, on an artificial hill on the floodplain._

Taylin gauged the distance to the river's mouth. "Is that where you want to go?"

_It isn't my choice to make._ Nonetheless, he disappeared from the hill and reappeared a few yards behind her.

"Yes, it is." She insisted. "Ru, I can tell now that you don't like the outdoors. If you want to go to the town, just say and we'll go to the town... though it's far enough that we're probably not going to get there by nightfall."

"We could travel more swiftly if I took the form of a horse, or other creature of conveyance."

Taylin made a face. "No. I am not riding another person, no matter what they transform into. It's a matter of dignity."

"You cared not for my dignity when you manipulated me to escape the chamber." He was quick to point out.

"That was only fair." She reasoned. "You wanted me to treat you like a slave, so I treated you like a fool, because only a fool would want to be a slave."

Ru growled, deep in his chest and turned away. "You do not understand, Miss Taylin. None of my previous masters have balked at issuing orders before. Why is it so difficult for you to accept?"

"If I had the food to wager, I'd bet a handful of ships' crackers that none of them have ever experienced it from the other end." Taylin folded her arms definitively. "No one is going to feel the way I was made to feel because of me; magic or no."

Whatever Ru was thinking was lost in the more general buzz of his mixed annoyance and frustration. Suddenly, those were lost in a spike of alertness.

So quietly that she wouldn't have heard it without her enhanced hearing, he whispered. "We are no longer alone, Miss Taylin."

Military training kicked in. An ambush had been spotted. The key was to prepare in such a way that it looked as if you were going about normal activities. Her boots wouldn't be much use if the fight started on sand, so she ignored them.

_Report._ She shivered when the cold, slithering feeling in the back of her head told her that the link considered that an order.

"Three medium sized animals, possibly large breeds of dog. One is larger than that, almost certainly a horse. Three demi-humans on foot, possibly human children. They emerged from a woodling cloak three hundred feet to the south and west."

"Sorry." Taylin said, unhappy with herself for the slip, however accidental. She stood with the pretense of stretching. "How did you know that?"

"The cloak. I wouldn't have known even that much if they hadn't disturbed it by leaving its range." There was a beat as he got a full sense of how little that explained things to her. "I am very sensitive to magic."

Taylin let it go with a nod. "Alright, so it might just be children. It's probably children." The last thing she wanted as a fight. After all, to her, the battle with the hounds was only a short time ago.

Hopes of this not being the case dwindled as the horse gained the hill right where Ru had been standing earlier.

Its rider was a human dressed in the gray hide of some large lizard worked into a vest and matching greaves over thick, brown wool. Beneath the vest, he wore a collared shirt of the most vivid blue Taylin had ever seen. His eyes were hidden by a flat brimmed straw hat, which was adorned with metal plates along the crown.

He was carrying a length of hollow metal, gripping it by the center and a complicated handle of polished wood and brass. It looked as if he were carrying some shaman's ceremonial maul the wrong way around.

Within the first few moments, it became clear that they weren't who he was expecting. In the next, it was just as clear that he had decided they were as good as anyone.

"Don't move. Raise your hands!" He ordered, brandishing the strange object he was carrying.

"We don't mean any harm." Taylin tried to assure him. It was no easy task, being just under seven feet, covered in blood and battle damage, and traveling with a broken sword, which, even broken, was longer than the newcomer's leg. She held her hands up and out, as she'd seen surrendering troops do. "We're travelers, nothing more."

Ru made no such attempt at making peace. Instead, he stared with all his belligerence. "Is that a weapon?" He scoffed.

"Lower Chordin Armory repeating rifle." The other man replied. "Considering it can drop a riding spider at thirty paces, I'd call it a weapon, yeah."

"Hmm..." His interest was piqued and Taylin got the tail ends of a number of equally terrible thoughts through their connection.

"Ru." She said firmly. "Just put your hands up so he knows we're not here to hurt anyone."

_I exist to hurt people._ He pointed out and she was thankful that he had the decency to only say that in her head. Reluctantly, he also spread his arms above his head.

"Alright," The man steered his horse cautiously down the incline with his knees while not once losing his aim with the so called rifle. "Now where are the others?"

Taylin blinked at him. It was hard not to feel nervous with Ru mentally constructing a legion of possible horrible fates that awaited people on the nether end of the 'rifle'. "Others?"

"The ones you brought through the telegate spell." He replied; voice calm, calculated. "If you give up the others, you have my word that the village will be most forgiving for what you've done to them."

"I'm telling the truth." Taylin said, trying to meet the eyes hidden by his hat. "It's just us. "We aren't here to hurt anyone."

A long moment went by, then the man with the rifle nodded and lowered it. "I believe you."

Ru arched an eyebrow and replied to this news with a flat, "What?"

# Chapter 4 – The Clan of the Winter Willow

For once, Taylin was in complete agreement with Ru. A beat behind him, she echoed his 'What?'.

The stranger smirked; not a cruel sneer, but a playful 'I know something you don't know' expression. He dismounted, remaining careful never to let them out of his sight. His soft boots did well on the sand and though he would have been a few inches shorter than Ru, if he ever stopped hovering, he didn't give the impression of looking up at either of them.

The rifle dangled down by his hip on a leather strap and one hand dipped down to hold it steady. The other reached up to tip the hat out of his eyes.

He was younger than Taylin had first thought. Possibly, she was fooled by the rasp in his voice from travel dust, but now that she saw his face, he couldn't have been that long out of his teens. Laughing blue eyes told of a soul that found joy and wonder. However the hollows and bags around them, coupled with the wilted, uneven cut of his dark brown hair suggested he hadn't felt that way in the more recent past. Still, when he offered them a neighborly smile, it definitely touched those eyes.

"The short answer, Madame Traveler, is this: I can't tell when you're lying, but I know when you're telling the truth." The smile turned back into the smirk from before. "You can lower your hands now."

As they did, he cleared his throat and spoke again. "I am Keese Kaiel Arunsteadeles, a son of Novrom by way of the College of Harpsfell. Chronicler. Currently on walkabout, hoping to become a named loreman and follow the third philosophy."

Ru laughed uproariously in their shared mental space. Taylin silently wondered if he remembered his own introduction. Perhaps not so silently, as he suddenly ceased laughing and shot her a cold look.

It must have also shown on their faces because Kaiel laughed self-consciously. "I know. It's a great many words to simply say: 'I'm Kaiel, a student from the Bardic College'. Everything else is useless detail, I suppose. But it is tradition."

Taylin relaxed. "No, that's fine. I'm Taylin and this is Ru. We're... not from nearby and we were going to try and reach the town before nightfall. Did you come from that direction?"

Kaiel considered for a second, then shrugged. "Not directly. As part of my walkabout, I'm traveling with the Clan of the Winter Willow. The town of Emisdaal on the northern arm of the bay is part of their usual caravan route, but when the clan's Grandfather heard of the troubles out here, he decided his people could help. As the guest of both he and the clan's Grandmother, I thought it was only right to help."

Taylin looked around at the idyllic setting she'd so recently been so enthusiastic about. "What sort of troubles could there be here? This place looks like a paradise."

An incredulous look came to Kaiel's face. "Where exactly did you think that telegate landed you? This is south Taunaun. If there's a place on the continent where the Age of Tragedies isn't over, it's here. The Thirteen Nations Accord meant nothing here; a few old dukes took cities on the coast, the cults took the desert, and the rest is left to whoever wants to squabble over it."

A blank look was the response he got in reply, as if he'd been spouting foreign gibberish.

He licked his lips and tried again. "I'll put it simply: this part of the world, it's wild still. No government, no rules. Some bandit king recently took it in his head to be a real king and he's demanding tribute from villages along the Byse River. The people here? Their village barely has a name, much less enough to spare for tribute. So this 'king' has eyes toward burning them out as an example."

Horrors from her memory surfaced for Taylin. Others used torches and arrows; she and her brothers and sisters worked with blazing javelins designed to shatter into showers of burning splinters on impact. And there were times when she hadn't needed the javelins. Visions of smoke, tinted orange by the flames it concealed, and of fleeing, screaming and burning bodies raked her mental vision.

However the worst didn't come from her mind, but rather from Ru's. Near-molten boulders falling upon a city of wood and stone; exploding into rains of lava, or crashing into structures to ignite everything within. Then came lightening, red and violet and green, jagging into towers, tearing them stone from stone before continuing on into the streets, where it found and consumed the panicking masses there.

She didn't know what she expected to accompany that thought from him. One would hope for horror, the same as she felt. Or, given his earlier blood-lust, perhaps sadistic glee. But there was nothing. Absolute null and it was not from him blocking their connection.

"No..." Taylin said it before she thought it.

"That's how Grandfather felt." Kaiel agreed. "So I suggest the two of you pass this place on by. There aren't many spirit beasts or predators along the bay coast, you should be fine. If you came into the village though..." He gave her a sympathetic look. "I can tell you truly don't want to hurt anyone, and if you go there, you'll either have to fight or else you'll be in the way."

Her hands clenched into fists. Maybe hundreds of years had passed, but for her, they had only been a few hours. Only minutes ago, she had tasted a life of peace and freedom. No more fighting. No more war. The broken sword weighted heavily at her side and tongues of flame flickered at the corners of her vision.

Fighting was what she knew. She was good at it, better than the Sky-Captains. She'd proven that in the first few moments after her escape. But she had only ever fought on the orders of others; in battles of conquest, of spite, and all the other darker purposes of war.

But there was another way. She had seen it. In the faces of every enemy she'd faced in the service of the hailene. Defense. Protection. Raising sword in the service of what was right and against everything the hailene stood for; against what was wrong.

When she looked up, Kaiel had turned to mount his horse again. "Wait!" She said, a bit too loudly. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach, but it couldn't batter down the resolve she'd already formed. "I... How can I help? I promise I won't be in the way. I just... I can't let that happen to anyone. I won't just walk away from this."

Kaiel raised an eyebrow as Ru made a put upon sound. "Your companion doesn't seem to agree."

"Whether I agree or not is immaterial." Yellow eyes locked on blue. "I go where she does. I have no choice."

It took Kaiel a moment to parse that. There was neither resignation, nor recrimination in his tone. Another possibility asserted itself, but there was no scrap of loyalty in the statement either. It was merely fact. If either of the former had been the case, he would have seen Taylin in another light. If the latter, he probably would have let it go past unquestioned. But he did have questions and the guilty look on Taylin's part wasn't helping.

Ru preempted whatever Kaiel intended to do about it. "Do not pry in these matters." His voice was blunt and cold and his stance, hovering in the air, turned predatory.

Kaiel flicked his hand, a quick gesture he'd only learned a week or so previous, and heard movement behind him.

A patch of grass rose up from where it had been lying on the slope above the beach. Instead of sending its roots into the earth, the grass was expertly woven by those same roots into a cloak that had until that moment concealed a small man; a halfling.

Tall for his race, he would have stood waist high next to Kaiel. In addition to the grass-weave cloak, he was dressed in snug fitting mossy greens and earthy browns, his long, dead-black hair tied back in a hasty tail. And he had a crossbow trained at Ru's head; a machined, steel quarrel at the ready.

"Do not threaten me." Kaiel informed him evenly.

Somewhere beyond the top of the ridge, a basso snarl sounded from something feral and angry. Ru answered with one of his own, but Taylin grabbed his arm.

"Ru, stop!" She turned to Kaiel. "I'm sorry. Our situation is sensitive and complicated."

Letting go of a deep breath, Kaiel nodded. His hand reached up and tipped the hat down over his eyes again. "Aren't they all? Peace. I don't want your secrets. If one of you wants to help, no one here will turn you away."

"Thank you." Taylin said, sighing her relief.

"Ru," She glanced over at him, not letting go of his arm, "If you don't want to help, you don't have to."

The shapeshifter huffed and rolled his eyes. She refused to understand. It certainly wasn't that he had explained it inadequately. In fact, he chose not to even reply.

From that, Taylin drew some conclusions of her own. Namely, that either something had to be done with the link, or Ru's understanding of it. Being linked with someone you clearly didn't like was doing Ru no favors and her attempts to accommodate him only annoyed. Time for a different tactic.

Running a hand through the savaged red locks on her head, she trudged forward. "Lead on, Kaiel."

Kaiel had been watching the entire exchange with an analytical eye, finding it interesting. "I'm sure the clan and the village will be most grateful." He took the horse by the bridle and wheeled it around toward her. "Here. You can ride back, I've got spells to give me endurance afoot."

Before Taylin could refuse, a spike of rueful amusement and keen interest that subverted the white noise of annoyance in the link made her start. Ru barked out a laugh so wicked that it made the halfling who was still covering him with the crossbow re-center his aim.

" _You_ are a wizard?" the incredulity dripped from his words.

Kaiel reverted to the expression of a teacher going over the lesson the tenth time. "No. I already said as much. I'm a chronicler on the path of the loreman. It's a bit like a wizard to those outside, but the source isn't the same and there's a certain style to what we do."

"A charlatan in other words."

That had Kaiel fuming. "And what is it that you know of wizards? I see you wasting spellwork to float about, but I've yet to see any true capability."

Cruelty and blood-lust almost overwhelmed Taylin as they rushed into the link. "Would you like to see?"

Ru. Stop.

A heavy, cold feeling clamped down on the link. Ru fell silent before the sentence was done, the anticipatory grin faded into his expert mask of neutrality. "Yes, Miss Taylin."

Kaiel glanced between them, trying to figure out what had just transpired.

Taylin was left with a sick feeling once again rolling in her gut. She hated herself for that, but she could only imagine what would have happened if she hadn't ordered Ru to... It was then that she felt the growing smug satisfaction.

You did that on purpose!

He didn't reply, but he didn't try and hide how pleased he was at provoking her to issuing an order either.

Taylin's jaw tightened and she made sure he felt her anger in the link. She tried and failed to keep it out of her voice. "You can ride, Kaiel. I'm used to long marches. Let's just get moving."

It didn't take training from the Bardic College to tell Kaiel that the two had fought without words. And it took even less training not to question it. Hand still on his mount's bridle, he turned the horse fully and started up the slope. Once under way, he motioned to the halfling, who eased the crossbow and stored the quarrel before stalking silently over to join him.

"Bromun matei-Frocture, I would like to introduce you to Taylin." He said, knowing full well that Bromun heard the entire exchange. "Taylin, this is Bromun matei-Frocture, beloved hunter of the Clan of the Winter Willow."

The little man nodded to her. "May the One Dice favor your path, Taylin" His voice, like his face, were younger than his expressions, but Taylin had never met a halfling before to know if that was normal or not.

In the culture of slave soldiers, friendly, formal greetings weren't the norm. "To you as well." She managed.

As they neared the top of the hill, they were met by two other halflings, a man and a woman, both in grass-weave cloaks and woodsman garb like Bromun. They were accompanied by a trio of huge wolves.

***

Kaiel took care of the introductions; the other halfling male was Bromun's brother, Rolfas. The female was Rolfas's wife, Minarene. He also kindly explained that the wolves were a breed exclusively raised by caravan-bound halfling clans. They served as both mount and battle partner for hunters, who were also the caravan's martial specialists, and were treated almost like full members of the clan.

The harnesses of hardened leather on the wolves, and the crossbows, weighted chains and wickedly curved kukris the halflings carried spoke for themselves on that fact.

On the walk to the village, the conversation was light and mostly held up by Kaiel and Bromun enlightening Taylin about Taunaun's banditry problem while the other two hunters ranged off some distance to search for any signs of the enemy.

Eventually though, Kaiel broached a subject Taylin had been secretly glad hadn't come up yet. "Forgive me for asking and shun it if it insults, but... I've noticed that you don't really strike me as human or elf." Then he startled her by dropping seamlessly into a painfully familiar language. "Amo 'Taylin ayean hailene-de. Ayes I hailene suras velates?"

Involuntarily, she shivered at the very sound of the words. Scowling bitterly, she refused to make eye contact. "Aan. Iba ang'hailene. Iba tolos velates."

Kaiel's eyes widened with shock and disgust. _Tolos velates_ : one whose wings were taken, as opposed to _suras velates_ : One whose wings were lost. He'd heard of the former, certainly, but always in accounts of historical accounts of the savagery of the early Age of Tragedies and of course, the Hailene War of Ascension. Taking wings was the most cold blooded torture the hailene inflicted upon each other. It was reserved for traitors and those deemed inferior, the 'not people' who didn't fit the hailene ideal, who they called _ang'hailene_.

"They still do that?" There was a trace of anger in his voice. "It seems Taunaun isn't the only place where the Age of Tragedies still lives on."

"They don't do that any longer?" Taylin looked at him sidelong, hope in her eyes before she realized her mistake. "... I meant: you haven't heard of it being done?"

"Not in my lifetime. Not for a good hundred years." He turned to Bromun, who hadn't understood the conversation in _hailene-de_ the native dialect of the hailene. As much as he hated to admit it, the caravan halflings still knew more about individual settlements in the East than he did. "Have you heard of any groups of hailene that still take wings?"

Bromun was half leaning, half sitting sidesaddle upon his lupine partner, Gruwluff (which he'd helpfully translated from the halfling language to Taylin as 'Feral Grin'), his feet were firmly standing on loops built into the great wolf's harness. He shook his head.

"The cliff-dweller tribes still exile _ang'hailene_. I've heard the tribes like Fellweather and Lightwings even give the children over to the ogres and dragon cults, but they don't cut anybody's wings off. Part of the rules of war for them, actually. I'd wager gold that any of them we deal with hasn't even thought of it since Nov II's abolition crusade ended slavery in the East."

So the masters were no longer even masters. Even realizing that almost four hundred years had passed, this was shocking. More shocking than the revelation of the new taboo on attacking wings. She clearly recalled seeing spells employed to blast the feathers from the wings of turncoats that fought alongside of the enemy.

"Taylin..." Kaiel's voice made her glance up into those horrified, blue eyes. "Who took your wings?"

She groaned at herself for having given that much away. No one would believe her if she explained and instead of being understanding, they would... she didn't even know what they did to the mad or daft in this place and time. The halflings who once hid and fled from the masters now rode wolves and coldly aimed crossbows from their hiding places; anything was possible.

He nodded at her silence. "I understand. As I said, I won't ask for your secrets. Just know that by helping the Clan of the Winter Willow, you've earned friends. Friends who won't let those who did this to you do anything like it again."

He didn't make any illusions of turning to glare at Ru, who followed behind like a wayward kite, allowing the breeze to drift him gently from side to side.

Taylin followed his gaze. She hadn't even thought about the self-proclaimed shape-shifting master in hours, having learned to tune out his baseline emotions rather swiftly. But she knew in an instant that he'd been listening to the entire conversation, including the story about her lost wings and Kaiel's implication that it was his fault, either by action or inaction.

A bit of her still simmering anger at him from earlier filtered through the link and made him glance at her. She got the sense that he was surprised at the depth of her anger. Presently, he corrected that notion.

I am no stranger to rage, but how do you keep it so well leashed? Your predecessors would have lashed out by now, made the link punish me for my insolence if only through unconscious action.

Most people don't leap at revenge and hurting others.

She didn't know that for sure and previous experience indicated otherwise, but she clung to that idea more than any other: People were _good_. Some just lost their way. Some were just born aberrations.

Even you don't believe that.

I do. And I won't punish you. I don't even know how, but I wouldn't. Slaves get punished. You are not my slave.

More than a minute had passed and Kaiel had watched the silent exchange with his jaw clenched. "Taylin, if he..."

"No." She replied softly, smoothly ignoring Ru's response to her. "I lost my wings years ago. We've only known each other a short time."

There was truth in that, he could feel it. So he nodded cautiously. "Would you like them back?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your wings. I'm not an expert on the art, but they can be grown back. The spell is powerful and usually expensive, but..."

Ru appeared not two feet from him, a look of derision curling his lip. "No charlatan can return what was once lost to a body."

Anger slammed through the link with enough force to make him wheel around into the green glare of his not-mistress.

Behind him, Kaiel scoffed. "I notice that this all powerful mage before me hasn't done so either."

Unable to catch both of them in his own glare where he was, Ru floated back to do so at range. "That is because it _cannot_ be done. Not without sacrifice." Bitterly, he added, " _Willing_ sacrifice. Do not seek to accuse and lecture me when you dangle false hope in a sad attempt at bedding a 'helpless' damsel."

The accusation made Kaiel choke on a gasp. "How dare you even imply such a slur against my profession!?"

That made absolutely no sense to Ru, but before he could retort along those lines, a deep growl caught all three of them off guard. It had come from Gruwluff, who had stopped in his tracks at Bromun's urging. The halfling grinned at how easily he'd been able to derail the argument.

"Neither one of you can manage regeneration once the wound's healed." He said gruffly. "Kaiel knows that too. But he also knows that if you put your hand in protecting us, Grandmother will share the blessing Sylph gives her with you. Can you at least agree that even you can't match the power of a god?"

Ru gathered himself up and replied sullenly. "If my guess is correct; attempted and failed." Suddenly, he set eyes on Kaiel and Taylin felt a mixture of curiosity and tentative pride wafting from him. "Tell me, charlatan; how did that bay form?"

He was met with surprised staring for a moment. All of the cruel aggression arrayed against him had just fled in an impossibly mercurial mood. Still, being called a charlatan again was a step up from the accusation that haunted those of his calling.

"The end of the War of Ascension." He said smoothly. "Dey's counter-stroke against the hailene for nearly exterminating the races that worshiped her most devoutly? You've... not heard this?" He turned to Taylin. "Surely as a hailene, you've heard of the sinking of most of the Illium mainland."

Illium. Home of the hailene. The island she'd never seen, but which was the source of all her torment. Sank by the holy wrath of a god. But so had the armadas, both the one that was home to her brothers and sisters, and the one that carried the heroes that opposed the masters. She didn't feel anything for any of them, but it hardly seemed fair.

That didn't feel important at the moment. Nor did Ru's inflating sense of pride at having merely been knocked into torpor by the distant god-wrought cataclysm. No, one thing loomed large in her mind now. She turned hopeful eyes on Bromun.

"Is that true? She can give me back my wings?" It had been three years since a visiting Choirmaster had given the order and since then, she'd only been able to fly in her best dreams. To have them back...

There were tears in her eyes when Bromun nodded. "If you fight and protect the clan, Grandmother will see it a worthy way to pay that debt. The life of family is our great treasure and we guard it jealously."

Taylin smiled. There was a sentiment she'd never thought she'd ever hear. "I've actually never known anyone who thought that way." She admitted.

"Ha. And we think it strange that everyone doesn't." Bromun said, urging Gruwluff forward to match Taylin's gait.

"Please, tell me more about your people, Bromun."

"Where to start? Well the most important thing is that we don't see the world or each other the way the other races do. For us, every halfling is our cousin..." As Taylin and Bromun fell into a deep conversation on the nature and philosophy of the halfling race, Kaiel found himself lagging slightly behind with Ru.

"Why exactly are the two of you traveling together?"

"She has just as little control over it as I do." Ru replied. "And just as little understanding of it as you do."

Kaiel set his horse into a trot. "I understand a tiny bit. For example: Taylin vexes you because you don't understand things such as how she doesn't want to hurt people, and yet so easily picks up her sword for the village. Maybe it's part of the old adage of evil not comprehending good."

"I'm no demon. I'm worse."

"That I don't doubt. A demon does evil because it's their instinct, or because they are driven to it by their master. A mortal man, no matter how intensely saturated with magic..." Ru stared at him in shock. "Yes, I can feel it. That's a first year charm. Now where was I? Right, a mortal man does evil for gain, or sadism, or vengeance; base things that they should rise above."

Ru folded his arms and floated along wordlessly before asking, "What makes you think man can rise above it? They might speak of right and justice, but what they are in the dark is their true skin."

"Now we talk philosophy." Kaiel noted. "In fact, the philosophies of the Bardic College. We exist to assist in that rise."

"And that is the 'third' philosophy of which you speak?"

"In a way. But all three have it at the core. The first was to merely inspire others to change the world. It was meant to take us out of the Age of Tragedies, but it wasn't enough. Inspiring a weakling only kills them, after all. The second philosophy is the one that prevails now, the one the College endorses: don't just inspire, but help and chronicle. Then using those chronicles, teach others the successes and mistakes of the future."

He shifted in the saddle to make himself comfortable. "That's how we actually escaped the Age of Tragedies. The basic rule is that all of us; chronicler, bard, scald and loreman make the heroes and immortalize them in story. We never become part of it."

"But there is a third." Ru said. "Because even that can't combat the nature of demi-humanity."

"I wouldn't call it nature. I call it culture and tradition. Blood hatreds and ignorance. But yes, there are those of us that think there needs to be another step to keep us from backsliding."

"And this philosophy that you follow?"

"The same I think exists in Taylin naturally." said Kaiel. "Don't wait for a hero. Don't stall until you have a catspaw to build up because one may not appear. Act. Let the followers of the second philosophy write your stories for you."

Ru cackled briefly and looked ahead at Taylin. "You believe all of that. And yet you are still not half as mad as she."

# Chapter 5 – The Gift of Hope

The sun had just started to set when they finally reached the village. Kaiel's description had been, if anything, too generous.

Built on the banks of the river, the place was little more than a U shaped cluster of reed-roofed cottages, built from bricks of fired mud. The closed end of the 'U' faced away from the river and was made up of larger, better built structures; likely a communal barn and storehouse. In the very center of the wide arc of huts was a large communal garden, only recently sown at that time of year.

There was no wall, or fence, as the region was of little interest to even marauding beasts. But what the villagers lacked, the Clan of the Winter Willow had provided, after a fashion.

More than two dozen hard topped caravan wagons encircled the tiny town like wooden sentinels. As they drew closer, Taylin could see wolves dozing beneath a few, occasionally in full harness and attended by a sharp eyed halfling with a crossbow.

The nearest stood, alongside his wolf companion, to challenge them as they approached. Bromun calmed his wariness with a few words in their tongue. As they passed, the guard watched them with dark, silent eyes, clearly taking their measure should Bromun's faith be misplaced. To his credit, he didn't even take a second look when Ru floated past, silent and grim as usual.

Moving on, Taylin nearly tripped on something half buried in the dust. A glance down found a twisted hemp rope. There were two others just like it, also partially concealed. All of them were tied off to the hitches of adjacent wagons.

This struck Taylin as odd, but before she could inquire after them, a gleeful shriek came from up ahead. Two halfling children, a boy and a smaller girl, were running flat out for all they were worth toward their group.

The boy ran straight to Bromun, who caught him in an exuberant hug. The girl, chattering in the language of the people, dashed over to Kaiel and held up her arms in the universal gesture of a child who wants to be picked up.

Kaiel did not disappoint. He passed the reins of his horse to Rolfas and, making sure his rifle wasn't in the way, he scooped the child up in a gale of happy laughter and childish babble. He laughed a bit and spoke back to her in her own tongue before directing her attention to Taylin.

"This is my friend, Taylin." He explained slowly and in words Taylin could understand. "She only knows imperial tradespeech, so you're going to have to use that to talk to her, okay?" The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "That's a good girl. Now say 'hello'."

Shining brown eyes looked up at the former slave and a tiny hand came up to wave. "You're tall." She said with a voice filled with wonder.

Both Taylin and Kaiel laughed at this, but Kaiel was quick to correct her. "Silly girl. That's not how you say hello to new people. How did Grandmother teach you?"

The little girl looked sheepish for a moment, then composed herself until she had her face done up in a comically serious mask. "Hello." She said with the stiltedness only a reciting child can manage. "My name is Raleian matei-Bromun."

"That's a good girl." Kaiel grinned proudly. To Taylin, he added. "Bromun's daughter. That's his son with him, Motseitiel matei-Raiteria. Everyone calls him Motsey though."

He bounced the little girl in his arms once more time before setting her down. "Rale, go to your daddy now, sweetheart. Taylin and I need to speak with Grandmother."

Rale giggled happily and ran over to her father and brother, making more happy little shrieking sounds along the way.

"She's darling." Taylin said.

"Aye. But just a warning, no matter how much any of the kids beg, and they will, do not pick them up unless it's life or death, Grandmother or Grandfather has expressly said that it's okay, or their parent does. Halflings do not take well to non-family handling their children. You would die. Screaming."

With that, he started toward the center of the village, where in addition to the garden, there were two wagons parked. Unlike the brightly colored, dust covered things surrounding the place, these two were painted white, though one had a fairly involved likeness of creeping vines painted on its sides.

The space between the two was given over to a campfire, ringed with large flat river stones the villagers probably used for all their sitting needs. Two elderly men were siting by the fire now, to one side of a halfling woman who was diligently scratching something around the mouth of a clay urn half as tall as she was.

Taylin knew only a little about halflings, and was now sure that she knew absolutely nothing about their culture. If the halfling woman were hailene or human, she would look to be in her forties. But halflings she had seen in the captivity and known to be more than six decades old, still looked a human twenty, meaning this woman was very old indeed.

As a backdrop of the entire scene, the human villagers were coming and going with urgency, filling several large tubs made of hammered tin with buckets of river water. Old men and the old halfling alike ignored them. They ignored one another too, for the most part; the elderly men holding themselves silent while shooting one another worried looks.

Kaiel hailed the halfling woman in their language and came to stand before her, head deeply and respectfully bowed. Unsure of what to do, Taylin did as he did. Ru on the other hand, floated past to study the tubs, a feeling of interest and professional approval in the link.

After a few minutes of back and forth between herself and Kaiel, the halfling woman lifted her eyes to Taylin. They were kind and in the firelight, it could be seen that her hair lightened from the normal halfling black at the root, becoming a soft, medium brown. Her fingers never stopped working on her etching.

"I am told that chroniclers are excellent judges of character." She said. "And Keese Kaiel believes that you are genuine in your desire to help us help the people here."

Taylin failed to meet her gaze and ducked her head in the affirmative. "Yes. I want to help. I've seen this happen too often and just once, I want to stop it."

The _click-click-scratch_ of the slim metal rod the halfling was using on the vase slowed slightly. "He refused to vouch as highly for your companion." Kaiel shifted uncomfortably and looked at Taylin sidelong.

She bit her lip. "The honest truth is, I cannot either. But if you turn him away, you'll have to turn me away as well."

"Oh?" The word blended to perfection curiosity, suspicion and mild surprise.

"It's complicated. Ru and I are strangers, but there is a spell binding us together. I myself don't understand the full extent of it, not being gifted for magic, but it will do something to him if we're separated."

The halfling looked to Kaiel for confirmation.

"Apologies, Grandmother, but I didn't know as much. Only that they can converse without speaking; be that telepathy or something else, I haven't had time to analyze it yet."

He gave Taylin a guilty look, making her know where his loyalties currently lay. "They're hiding other things as well. Nothing dangerous to us, in Taylin's case, I'm certain."

The etching stopped. Grandmother sat the urn aside and laid the rod in her lap. The kindness drained from her eyes, leaving only steely seriousness. She pointed to the dusty ground in front of her. "Sit." She ordered.

She'd said or done something wrong, Taylin knew. Even not knowing exactly what it was, she felt terrible about it. So she dropped slowly into the posture she normally took when allowed to sit; crouched on the balls of her feet, elbows on knees.

"All the way." Grandmother said firmly. Almost without her own consent, Taylin complied. The halfling woman fixed her with an appraising look and clasped her hands in her lap in front of her.

"Now. You have come to me asking that I trust my family to your hands. Every one of the _nir-lumos;_ who you would call 'halflings', you see here is my child in spirit before the Green Maiden and the One Dice Rolling. They are precious to me in ways that your most precious possessions will never be to you. And that is why I will brook no secrets from you."

She leaned forward, making it clear that in no uncertain terms that between them, size was no object. "I respect that some things cannot be said, but now you must look me directly in the eye and answer truthfully: is what you conceal a danger to my family?"

Taylin considered this seriously. She hadn't considered it and wanted now to be sure that she wasn't endangering anyone.

Her origins were simple enough; everyone that would know to come after her was dead. The question of her true nature was a bit more murky. Never had she attacked anyone who wasn't clearly identified as an enemy, even as far gone as she'd ever been. The real question was Ru.

There were no illusions that Ru enjoyed violence and destruction; that he was cruel and manipulative. But at the same time, he wasn't a rampaging, indiscriminate monster. He knew how to choose his battles and after the initial confrontation, seemed to accept that Kaiel and Bromun were off limits for his aggression.

Something deep inside, a voice she refused to accept as a part of her, added that he was also fully restricted by the link. A single word, or thought from her and he would be forced to obey. She fought down that voice, wrapped it in chains of will and resolved not to even consider that.

But it was true. Could she honestly say that she wouldn't use the link's control of Ru to protect others like Bromun's children?

Very slowly, she raised her eyes to Grandmother's. The elder halfling's hair wasn't the only thing lightening with age. Her eyes, once likely the same near-black brown that the other halflings showed, were hazel. "Yes, Grandmother. My secrets are not a threat to those you care about."

Grandmother looked up at Kaiel, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Suddenly the kindness and warmth returned to her all in a rush. One small, work-calloused hand reached out and touched Taylin's forehead. "Then I welcome your help, Taylin. And if you protect my family well, I promise to share with you Sylph's gift and make you whole once more."

By Taylin's reckoning, everything had happened all in one day, And over the course of that day, her entire world had been swept away in a storm of welcome chaos. She had gone from the broken agony of punishment to lung burning weariness in her desperate fight to escape, to the euphoria of a powerful healing spell and the desperation of suffocating in stale air. Even the giddiness following her discovery of where and when she was couldn't top what she was feeling now.

It was finally all too much for even she who was born to withstand the harshest treatment and conditions. She fell forward on her arms before Grandmother and was wracked with incapacitating sobs of joy.

The cascade of positive emotions was so great that it startled Ru out of his own explorations. Without preamble or warning, he appeared, hovering over her.

Kaiel jumped at his arrival, but Grandmother was not startled in the least.

"Ah, the companion. I wished to meet you as well."

Ru glided sideways so that he wasn't directly over Taylin. Both he and the link weren't entirely sure what to make of what he was seeing. Crying usually implied the harm had been done, but his mistress was very clearly ecstatic about whatever was making her cry. The link split the difference by only punishing him lightly with a sharp, pulsing pain between the eyes, which he patiently ignored. He raised his chin when Grandmother addressed him.

"That is mutual." He gestured to the tubs and then the urn. "Assuming that you performed the spellwork here yourself."

"Aye." She said, a small prideful smirk upon her lips. "For the battle tomorrow. I intend to give us the best possible advantages."

"Your structures are exceptional." He said. "Connecting all five vessels to the urn simultaneously with that number of variant triggers and effects. My only criticism is that you neglect the value of fire conjuring in your evaporation array. Using solely water and wind control makes it slow; you will not be able to react as quickly as you would if you added _flaer_ arrays."

By now, Taylin had collected herself and was looking up at him, trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about.

Grandmother gave this some thought as she pulled the urn back onto her lap, starting her etching again. "I see what you mean. Alas, Sylph does not favor flame in her blessings. Nothing I can conjure could heat that much water."

Ru's oddly colored eyes were alight with the spark of inspiration. "Then with your leave, I should like to integrate my own into your structure."

"I thought you didn't want to help." Taylin said, forgetting to relay that mentally.

"Yes, Miss Taylin. But that was before I saw these workings. A people capable of this is a people worth risking blood to protect."

Kaiel folded his arms, disapproving. "But if Grandmother wasn't an expert spellcrafter..."

"I still would have fought. But only because Miss Taylin was foolishly intervening and I cannot allow her to come to harm which I can prevent. Now I feel that I shall put some effort into this." He looked back to the halfling woman. "Do I have your permission to act?"

"By all means." she replied and turned her attention to the old men, who had watched the entire conversation in silence. "Good men; I trust that you've heard now that there are two more come here to see that your homes do not burn. I ask that they receive the hospitality you've shown to the Winter Willow."

The man closest to them, tall and broad shouldered with skin like leather and hair like so many wool threads, grunted his ascent. "Right ya are, missus. By ash and flame, we owe all ya more than we can pay." He looked to Taylin and Ru. "What is it ya need, we'll see if we can provide."

"Oh, we don't need anything." Taylin said automatically, but Grandmother was already talking over her.

"You can save your food, good men. Our wagons can provide for them, but neither we, nor you have space to spare for sleep, so they will need good, thick blankets and the young woman needs clothes." She eyed the pair again before saying, "And judging by her sword, it wouldn't go amiss if you saw fit to scrounge together whatever armor you can, or a proper sword."

"A sturdy scythe would also be welcome." Ru added in a low voice the rumbled just across the register into something unsettling.

Grandmother turned back to him with a vaguely interested look. "You know, Keese Kaiel has refused to put his word in your favor with me."

"I wouldn't expect less from a charlatan." Ru said evenly. "But he is right, given what he knows and does not know. But as you have heard, my attitude on this endeavor has changed."

She cocked her head and gave a half nod, but it was no indication of agreement. "I also heard that before you were so impressed with my workings, you were fully prepared to give your bare minimum while those I love died."

Ru's face split in a less than stable looking grin and Taylin could sense both irony and an echo of his earlier blood-lust. She braced to try and stop him if he did anything untoward. "No one ever said I would give my bare minimum. I'm told that a mounted century is bearing down on this place with an eye to burning it to the ground. When they come, I will kill them. And I never do my bare minimum when it comes to destruction."

Now the nod was agreement. "This I do not doubt."

Suddenly, she looked bored with the entire thing, pretending to catch the two old men watching the exchange. "I say good men, did I, whose people risk their lives tomorrow in your defense, not make a quite reasonable request?"

The two shifted uncomfortably and the one who had spoken before led the other off in slowly rising and shuffling away from the fire, presumably in search of blankets and clothes for someone a head taller than either of them.

Without watching them go, Grandmother then made a dismissive gesture to Kaiel, Taylin, and Ru. "You all may go as well. I still have much work to do before I take my evening meal."

"Might I begin the work on incorporating the fire conjuring and resultant triggers?" Ru asked, clearly eager. It was surprising for Taylin; feeling Ru's interest and excitement at the prospect of such work.

"Aye, do as you will. No sense in dawdling." Grandmother said, bending over her task.

Used to Grandmother's dismissals, Kaiel turned and waited for Taylin to do the same. "Follow me. Instead of sleeping out in the open, you can use the wagon the clan lets me use. I like to sleep on the roof most nights anyway."

"No..." said Taylin, distracted. Even though she'd managed to marshal control of herself outwardly, her mind was still wired with thoughts of what had happened and what was coming. Ru wasn't helping with his unabashed enjoyment of his spellwork. Every part of her felt alight with energy, as if another fully powered healing spell were being cast on her over time.

She blinked, remembering what Kaiel was saying. "Sorry. I meant that I wouldn't want to put you out. Plus, I prefer sleeping next to a fire anyway. I get cold easily."

The chronicler nodded amiably and they walked in silence until they found themselves in the barren expanse between where the village stopped and the line of wagons began. Some of the halflings were already gathering around fires there.

Kaiel led her to an as yet unlit fire pit not far from a red and green painted wagon that was decorated with fern patterns up near the roof. His horse had been left hitched to the dash board with a ration of hay and a folding trough made of oiled cloth and filled with water.

"Welcome to my home of the past few days." He said with a small laugh. "If you wouldn't mind getting the fire started, I'll see what I can do about dinner. If you're sick of Allbuk's, I'm sure someone did some fishing today."

She had no idea what Allbuk's was, but food was food to her. She'd never been given the opportunity to develop a finicky palate. "Thank you." She said lamely and turned toward the fire pit. It was already piled with dry reeds and chunks of rotted timbers. It was probably Rolfas's work, as Kaiel's horse hadn't been tied up there.

With an embarrassed cough, she added. "Do you have a flint?"

Kaiel looked a bit surprised, but after a quick inventory of his pockets, handed her his flint and steel. It was as pristine and unused as the day he had bought it. "I didn't expect you not to have one; being a traveler and all." There was an unspoken question in his tone and he made no efforts to hide it.

"Ru knows magic." It wasn't an answer to his question, but it was the truth.

At this, Kaiel pursed his lips. She was clearly evading, but he didn't want to corner her if he didn't have to. "Yes. Yes he does. Forgive me for saying, but he doesn't strike me as someone you should trust with something as vital to your survival as fire."

"I know that." It just came right out before she could stop it. There were so many thoughts and emotions clashing in her head, it was only just a matter of time before some of the negative ones emerged. Still, she dropped her volume before repeating it. "I know that. But... neither of us has a choice in the matter right now."

Her common sense told her to stop there, but regardless of all the great things that had happened to her in the relative day since she woke up as a slave on a warship, she also found herself bound to a sadistic monster, forced to feel his delight in destruction and constantly reminded that she now held the same power over him that she hated all her life. Once a flaw appeared in the dam, there was nothing to keep it from growing.

But even with that, she didn't know how to explain it; how to make the chronicler or anyone else believe her. The entire story would sound like madness.

"From what I overheard, you already know that a vastly powerful spell binds us together."

Both of them jumped at the intruding voice. It didn't take them long to spy Ru standing in front of the wagon. The villagers had furnished him with the scythe he requested, which he now held by the shaft above the handles so that the reaping blade curved so as to just miss shearing his topmost hairs. In the dying light, he and his yellow eyes looked all the more intimidating.

Satisfaction at startling them redoubled when he saw the expression on Taylin's face at sensing it.

"If Ms. Taylin permits, I can explain."

She glowered at his phrasing and replied automatically. "It isn't only my secret to tell, Ru. If you feel like talking about it, I won't stop you."

"Hmm." Ru said. The satisfaction was eroded away by his old standbys, confusion and a mild frustration. "I will tell him what needs to be known then. And only concerning the link." He made it clear, mentally, that her own past was not his responsibility and that he would resent it if she insisted. She didn't.

That settled, Ru leaned back against the wagon. "Very well. For your own knowledge, charlatan: I am afflicted with a complex working; a curse the binds me. I am only allowed freedom if another willingly accepts a bargain that binds me to them via a command spell-array I refer to as 'the link'."

He felt Taylin's discomfort at the mention of it, knowing what came next in the explanation. It confused and vexed him to no end that she refused to simply follow the normal course for every master previous. Orders, he understood. Demands, wishes, strongly worded requests; all of those were right and proper and made sense. Being asked nicely and being given choices didn't.

Yes, he followed orders with as much willfulness and belligerence as the link allowed. Indeed, he had a history of wheedling and manipulating in order to gain some sliver of freedom and pursuit of his own goals. But the uphill battles, the constant challenges were what made sense. Taylin left him effectively unopposed and that made him wary. She'd outsmarted him once already; it was entirely possible that she knew the Rune Breaker's history and her actions were an act to keep it from repeating itself.

If that was true, it was the first thing in thousands of years to actually frighten him. Because even assuming this, he was starting to doubt his properly high paranoia. And whenever that happened, he suffered.

He chalked up this internal debate as the cause of the moment of weakness that followed.

"The link is more than a telepathic bond. It allows us to sense each other's location and emotional disposition... unless one suppresses it. But most importantly, it acts as a restraint; binding me into loyalty toward the holder of the other end. I cannot allow her to come to harm, and if I stray too far, there are consequences. That is how she can be assured of my loyalty."

Moving only his eyes, he concentrated on the fire pit. It was a simple bit of magic that didn't strictly require a diagram or structure to create; any bit of power could invoke _flaer_ to create a flame. But as he'd so recently been contemplating conditional fire conjurations, force of habit took over and he imagined the simple diagram for a fire the size of the pit and forced a bit of his personal power into that framework.

With a _whuff_ of ignition, the fire simply appeared atop the prepared kindling and began to blaze merrily.

Ru sneered at Kaiel's expression. "And also for your own knowledge; your instincts are correct not to trust me. I am more dangerous than you can possibly comprehend. A monster of nightmare."

The sneer faded and he looked to Taylin, his expression the definition of neutrality. "But as long as she lives and throws her lot in with you and the Clan of the Winter Willow, I am a monster that is, for the moment, on your side."

He sidestepped Kaiel and took a few steps as if to walk back to the village. "And now, I shall return to my work, which in the near future your life will depend on." The baring of teeth Taylin saw as he started to walk past her couldn't have been called a smile and she was thankful that it was meant for Kaiel instead of her.

It was the first time Taylin had seen him teleport directly before. In the span of less than a second, he seemed to become a living shadow, save for a last luminescence of his eyes, and then vanished completely. But before he did, he tossed one more barb in the chronicler's direction. "Rest easy, charlatan."

# Chapter 6 – Waste Not Want Not

After that, the subject of Ru and by extension, Taylin, became closed. Kaiel went into his wagon to scrounge the evening's repast while Taylin tried to make herself comfortable by the fire.

It was spring now, whereas it had been the height of summer when she entered the fated cave, and early enough in the season that when the sun was finally gone, a chill crept over the world. Taylin moved as close to the fire as she could without igniting her clothes. Burning herself wasn't a concern; she had yet to meet a fire hot enough to do that.

After a time, Kaiel returned with a cast iron camp oven filled with water, an iron pry bar, and a tin box of trail rations. The rifle was left behind inside. He sat down facing her with enough space to set the armload of items between them.

"The good news," He proclaimed as greeting, "Is that I thought to buy fresh rations when we were at the Dragonpier. Dried fruits, some road-friendly vegetables, travel crackers, cured venison, and of course, potatoes." He pointed to each item in turn. "The bad news is, I've also got plenty of Allbuk's."

At this, he picked up one of a great many paper envelopes. On the front was a faint imprinted image of a fork and knife in a circle, overlaid with a strange, angular symbol. Taylin had never seen dwarven runes before, so she could only guess at its meaning. Beneath the imprint were serious block letters in imperial trade: 'Allbuk's #3 Instant, Nourishing Porridge – Beef Flavor'.

The other envelopes were similar, mostly porridge in flavors such as Game Fowl, Bear, and Butter. A few others proclaimed themselves to be 'Allbuk's #12 Instant Creamed Corn', and Allbuk's #5 Instant Potatoes – Butter Added'.

None of that made sense to Taylin; those foods were moist and voluminous. They couldn't be stored in tiny envelopes. She voiced this point after careful study of the packets.

Kaiel laughed politely. "I thought Allbuk was world famous by now. I guess not." Taylin shook her head. "Ah. Well you see, Allbuk is an alchemist and he's discovered a way to separate water from food well past what we can do with normal drying. It renders down into..." He tore open the corner of an envelope of #3 so she could see the grayish powder within, "Powder."

Taylin blanched. She'd been brought up on ship crackers and whatever rations or stores she could scavenge from enemies, but even the cruelest Sky-Captains hadn't forced her to eat dust.

This drew another laugh from Kaiel. "Don't worry, you don't have to eat it like this. When you boil it in water, it comes back to itself... more or less."

"More or less?" She asked, untrusting of this bizarre foodstuff.

"It really depends on how much you're willing to pay. #3 is cheap and it's basically grain paste with dry beef broth for flavor. #10, the beef and potatoes with gravy is actually pretty amazing."

"You don't have any that say #10." she pointed out.

He looked mildly cowed. "I wasn't willing to pay. Besides, with a bit of care, herbs and some vegetables, even #3 can be a very nice meal." To demonstrate, he took the top off the travel oven, produced a small knife from the ration box, and began cutting carrots and onions into it.

Before long, the pot was filled and the water a murky gray from two envelopes of Allbuk's #3. Kaiel placed the lid on firmly and used the pry-bar to place the oven directly into the fire.

"Not the potatoes?" Taylin eyed the tubers longingly. Potatoes were a rare meal in her life; always plentiful in enemy supply lines, but eating them raw made her sick and the masters didn't let their enslaved soldiers cook for themselves. The only source of edible ones for her, therefore, was when a few managed to get cooked in the course of battle. Hailene Choirs with members who preferred fire were saints to the famished slave.

"Ah, we could have." Kaiel agreed, "But if we just place them in a wet cloth like this..." Before adding the gruel to the pot, he had soaked a handkerchief in the water. Now, he placed three potatoes into the middle of it and wrapped them carefully. Once that was done, he laid the whole thing carefully atop the oven on the fire. "We'll be able to eat them before the stew is done."

This trick instantly found a place in Taylin's memory. Now that she was free, she could have all the potatoes she wanted and thanks to Kaiel she knew how to cook them. Such a simple step forward bought a smile to her face. "Thank you. Again." She said after a short silence.

He waved the additional gratitude away. "Nothing of it, Taylin. You needed help, so I helped. Just like the Winter Willow is doing for this town. Just like you're doing for them. It's all a perfect working example of the third philosophy that I'm proud to take part in."

She gave him a curious look there.

"Oh. I supposed Ru would have relayed that." He said, embarrassed. "The long and short of it is, the idea of helping those in need directly; without catspaws or go-betweens, is a new thing in some circles. They would rather build up a hero than become one. They say we're just story spinners and..." He sighed, recalling Ru's favored insult for him, "charlatans, whose purpose is to tell the stories, not be part of them."

He shifted a bit and reached into his coat pocket, producing a silver half-flute. "People like me, or some of the loremen I idolize, have made it their goal to prove that the direct way, the third philosophy, is just as valid as any other."

Taylin picked up on the implications of the entire speech and blushed. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have her face heat up that way. "It's very nice to say, but I'm no hero. I've just seen this sort of thing these bandits do too often. Someone has to stop it."

Kaiel looked her in the eye, his expression more gravely serious than ever. "Then why not wait for a real hero? Maybe a prince of Novrom will come along, or someone from a penny novel. One of them could easily sweep in and deal with one little bandit camp, yes?"

His examples made no sense at all to her, but she wasn't about to let on that they didn't. She already appeared ignorant of more than enough things to make him suspicious and anyway, his question had an obvious answer.

"None of them are around to help right now when these people need them. There's no time."

"Precisely." Kaiel dropped his gaze and fiddled with the flute's keys. "And I would imagine that's the moment each of those folks became more than mere mortals. No mistake; you won't star in a dime novel for what you'll do for these people. Even if I wrote one, a simple raid wouldn't sell. But because you came and because you stood; even if no one ever knows what happened here, for that moment, I believe all of us will be heroes."

Taylin looked at him wide-eyed for a moment. His conviction was iron clad on the subject and just hearing how he said it made some part of her sure of it too. It was a heady feeling.

Then he chuckled and broke the spell. "Except for Ru."

She couldn't help laughing with him.

***

While looking congealed and a foreboding shade of beige, the stew was enjoyable enough.

The conversation had gone well too. Taylin tried her hand at subtly leading the conversation into areas that provided her with precious information about the course the world had taken while she slept. She was sure Kaiel suspected as much, but the chronicler hadn't made an issue of it, instead supplying her with exactly what she was looking for.

Surprisingly, the end of the war hadn't heralded a golden age. Without the unifying threat of the hailene, the Vishnari Empire fell into a cycle of civil wars that saw atrocities on the same level as their former enemies. That was the Age of Tragedies and it ended with a peace known as the Thirteen Nations Accord, signed only some thirty years earlier.

In addition to Taunaun, where they were at the moment, she learned of the fractious nation of Novrom and its many principalities all vying to be kingdoms, the rough and tumble country called Callen where tribal warlords ruled by rite of strength, and finally Chordin, a frozen land wrapped around the glimmering jewel of a city called Harpsfell: home to the Bardic College.

Kaiel was a Novromi, transplanted to Harpsfell and aspiring to become a citizen of this still fresh, new world. Taylin felt this explained a lot about him.

After dinner, she lay back on her elbows and digested the wealth of information. There was a lot of world out there and she burned with a curiosity to see the whole of it. Idly, she wondered if only loremen or perspective loremen could take walkabouts. While she mused, Kaiel turned to face the fire and brought the flute to his lips, playing with one hand while the other held the clay cup of weak wine he'd brought out to accompany dinner.

A few minutes later, Taylin was startled out of her considerations by the appearance of a ball of scintillating light above the campfire. The mysterious orb pulsed like a heartbeat, shimmering and blending from one color to the next in a beautiful display. It took her a moment to realize that the color changes were perfectly in time with the flute music.

She looked over to see Kaiel, eyes closed, wearing a dreamlike expression as he continued to play. Already regretting the interruption, she was nonetheless prodded on by her curiosity.

"What are you doing?" She asked in a hushed tone.

Kaiel ceased playing, but the orb persisted on its own volition for several seconds thereafter before fading gracefully from the night air. He smiled with a slightly sly pride. "I was just practicing the College's brand of magic. I suspect I'll need it tomorrow."

"It's nice to see that Ru was wrong. No charlatan could make something so beautiful."

This drew a sigh from him. "As much as it pains me to say, Ru doesn't realize, but he's not wrong, not technically anyway. You see, the powers we use—"

"Keese Kaiel." He was interrupted by a deep, clipped voice. Both turned to see the owner step into the fire light.

He was a halfling, aged in much the same way as Grandmother, but unlike any of the other male halflings Taylin had seen since entering the village. They wore their hair long with a handful of small plaits spaced throughout and kept their faces clean shaven. This one was just the opposite. His hair was cut short, especially in the front, foregoing the bangs the others cultivated and he sported a tightly controlled beard that, due to his age, was nearly blonde.

In his arms, he carried a cloth wrapped bundle that looked too large for him, and on his back was strapped an implement almost as tall as he was and as round as a wagon wheel. As he came further into the light, Taylin made out thick spokes beneath the dark covering stretched over it. It _was_ a wagon wheel.

Kaiel turned swiftly and bowed his head deeply. "Grandfather. I hope this night finds you hail and joyous."

The elderly halfling half smiled. "I am hale, but tomorrow will bring death. I will be joyous when we turn away this threat and those who fall for the right cause sleep in cool shade."

He turned his attention to Taylin. "And in this battle, I'm told we are not alone. Taylin, yes?"

"Yes sir." She said, unsure how to address him.

He scrutinized her a moment before proffering the bundle. "The villagers have little to wear that will fit you. The best they could do was a good, heavy dressing gown and winter robe. It's hardly something you'll want to fight in, but it should do for the night."

Taylin unwrapped the bundle to find the aforementioned items, plus what looked to be a solid slab of leather. She looked at him questioningly, earning a mildly embarrassed sigh for her troubles.

"There is also little in the way of armor here that can be adjusted for you before tomorrow. I managed to procure the smith's leather apron." He shrugged off the wagon wheel from his back and rolled it up beside hm. It was covered in layered bands of stretched hide and sported leather straps that looked suspiciously like bridles on the back. "One of our tinkers also put this together. It won't stop sword thrusts, but it should foul arrows."

He grimaced. "It isn't much, I know. Neither Grandmother nor I would fault you if you chose to leave rather than fight tomorrow."

Taylin looked down at the offerings. This was the best these people could offer because it was the best they _had_. Much like her, they had barely anything material to their name. Unlike her, they had families and friends and loved ones who they needed to have protected. How could she put her own life ahead of theirs when their deaths would hurt many more than themselves, while the only mourning at her demise would be Ru over his lost sliver of freedom?

"I didn't ask for anything. You didn't have to..." She said in a small voice, still looking at the relatively fresh, clean clothes. Hers were stiff with dry blood and torn all over. She looked up at Grandfather and met his eyes, which showed none of his age. "I was going to help regardless. But thank you."

Grandfather nodded with a ghost of a smile. "You are welcome. Now if you will excuse us..." He gestured to Kaiel. "Keese Kaiel, the scouts will return soon. We would like your input for the battle plan."

Kaiel nodded smartly and got to his feet. "Of course, Grandfather." To Taylin, he said, "I'll probably be gone for the night. If you need anything, you're welcome to anything in my wagon that is not in a satchel or under lock and key."

"Thank you, but I was probably going to try and sleep anyway." Taylin said to them. Grandfather was already off, forcing Kaiel to hurry after him.

Once they were gone, Taylin took stock of what she had now: A broken sword, a wagon wheel pretending to be a shield, a leather apron which was about as good as the boiled hide armor hailene slave soldiers were given, and a new set of clothes. Knowing it always paid to be resourceful, she also counted the clay cups she and Kaiel had been drinking from.

She didn't know why she took stock, exactly, but it felt natural to her and anyway, it was a good habit to get into now that there was no quartermaster to issue her what she was allowed from mooring to mooring. First thing was first, she shucked off her ruined clothes and put on the gown and coat. They were both made of stiff, itchy wool, but they were warm and that mattered most. Warmth had been a luxury for so long.

Afterward, she sat back down by the fire; actually sat, because she was allowed, and contemplated her old clothes. An entire lifetime of experience told her not to waste them. The worst part of the blood could be washed out. As for the holes and slashes; on the ships, there were always the valets, also slaves, but the runts of the warrior litters. A friendly valet would sew up a tear and save a clumsy soldier from the quartermaster's wrath.

There was no valet around and she had no idea how to sew, but even destroyed clothing made softer, more comfortable bedding than straw...

She didn't know how long he'd been there, but she was suddenly aware of Ru's presence by the fire, just a few feet to her right. He appeared without greeting and the whole of his focus was on the three fat, still gasping fish he was carrying by a cord passed through the gills.

Without a word, he gestured with his free hand and caused a flame to leap from the fire and spread into a perfectly rectangular area a few feet to a side. The new fire burned with such intensity that the core flames turned blue and deeply comforting waves of heat struck Taylin where she was sitting.

The earth beneath dried, cracked, melted and fused, at which point Ru dismissed his working and sent all the heat created from it back into the original fire, which flared white once before calming. Satisfied with his newly forged and cooled work surface, Ru sat the stringer down and freed one fish from the line. His fingers became impossibly long, sharp talons and with smooth, practiced strokes he began the process of scaling them.

Taylin watched in silence. It was almost hypnotic how much grace the Rune Breaker, the supposed most powerful weapon of all time, prepared his meal with.

He scaled them all at once and disposed of the detritus in the fire. By that time, the fish were dead, so it was less of a horrific act when his arm became a cleaver; a miniature version of the one he so recently used to nearly split a hound in twain; and lopped the heads off. And just as quickly, the talons were back to aid in filleting and boning.

The entire act almost passed entirely in silence. Almost. For Ru then nearly committed a cardinal sin in Taylin's mind: he attempted to discard the innards and heads.

"Don't waste those!" She said with utmost urgency the second she realized that the remains were headed for the fire.

Ru's reaction, felt through the link, told her that he'd nearly forgotten she was there. His eyes snapped in her direction, his gore covered hand poised above the fire, allowing the meat to start to cook. At first, his expression showed surprise, and then annoyance at having his efforts interrupted.

_What?_ He didn't even waste the breath to speak.

"You can't throw away the insides." She said urgently as the fatty fishes' innards began to sizzle. "There's a lot of good meat there."

Ru huffed indignantly. "I will not reduce myself to devouring organs. Especially not piscine tripe." A bit of fat popped in his hand, forcing him to transform the appendage into something with the consistency of petrified wood to avoid pain.

Later, Taylin would assure herself that she did what she did next to keep him from getting hurt, not to protect the precious meat from overcooking. It wouldn't be the first time she lied to herself.

With speed honed on the battlefield, she reached through the fire and grabbed the mass of cooked meat from his hand. In pulling it back, her hand passed through the center of the heat, setting off a small grease fire. She didn't even notice as she instinctively shoved the captured prize into her mouth.

Eating in a relaxed manner with Kaiel hadn't set off her instincts, panicking over wasted food had. The first rule she remembered learning on the ships: if you've managed to take food, it goes into your mouth, lest someone take it back.

Ru had no intentions of taking the smoldering detritus back. Even if he did, he would have forgotten after watching her put a flaming hunk of meat in her mouth and swallow it in one gulp. He stared hard at her for a moment and imagined that he willed into existence the sudden look of embarrassment that fell over her face like the final curtain of a play.

"Didn't the chronicler feed you already?" He finally asked.

She looked, if it were possible, more embarrassed. "I didn't want to make him feel bad; but no, not enough. I have to eat more than normal. They said I run hot."

"More so now that you've swallowed flame." Ru said dryly, but his amusement was clear in the link. "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Waste not, want not." She replied instantly. It had never been clear where she'd gotten that phrase from; every other soldier and valet abroad the ships attributed it to her if they themselves recalled at all. Not that it mattered; a valuable phrase was valuable no matter who said it.

"Is that why you have that bundle of rags beside you?" Ru asked offhandedly. He held out his right hand and the scythe from earlier appeared in a flash of eye-confusing black light.

"No... well yes." She babbled, her earlier self-debate flooding back. "I can wash the blood out, and maybe someday I'll learn to sew and then I can wear them again. But until then, I can put them under my head when I sleep."

Ru gave the handles of the farm implement a contemptuous look and snapped both off. Leaning the scythe on his shoulder, he thrust the point of one of the new 'stakes' into the end of a fillet and held it over the fire. "Or." He suggested in a bored tone, "You can order me to use magic to clean and repair them. I can even improve them."

" _No._ " She said firmly. "And stop trying to make me, please. Don't you understand that I don't want to make you do things you don't want to do? Why do you even want to me to? And don't say it's because you're not a person. Weapons don't need to eat."

Glaring his defiance, he took the fillet off the fire, seared but not fully cooked, and took a large bite. "I enjoy eating. That doesn't mean I need to eat."

"That doesn't feel like the truth." She countered.

A small growl rumbled in his throat. Damn the link, and damn her unusual sensitivity to it. "I wouldn't need it normally. However, my power was critically drained in sustaining your torpor as well as facing what both the charlatan and the halfling elder tell me was the power of a god. I do not know how long I will need to regain my full strength; this has never happened before."

He went back to work, searing the other fillets. Taylin watched in silence, trying not to see and smell the cooking meat, but finding herself entranced by it all the same. To keep her mind off it, she continued her argument.

"Maybe you aren't a person. I don't understand magic well enough to say. But you think, you feel, you eat. I assume you sleep. I don't see why I shouldn't treat you as one anyway."

"Because I'm not." he said harshly, punctuating the sentence by tearing off a hunk of fillet with his teeth and chewing savagely. He felt her hunger quite keenly when he did that, could tell that if he left some space between himself and the seared morsels, she'd move to take one. "If you want me to give you any of this, you know what you must do." He said cruelly.

Taylin cringed and withdrew into herself. "Stop that!" She snapped. Then another stroke of genius cut through the link like finely honed blade. A faint guilt followed, by her face settled into a self-satisfied smirk. "Fine. If you want an order, Ru, I will give you one."

Winning didn't exactly make Ru happy, or even relieved. This was the natural order of things, the start of a natural progression; a dance whose steps he knew well. But something told him that it wasn't going to be that easy. He wasn't going to like this. He turned his baleful gaze on her and waited, chewing on a piece of fish as he did.

It took her longer to steel herself against her own guilt than even she expected. But it needed to be done.

"I know that there are some things you have to do because of the link." She started, "And that can't be helped. But I don't want to be your master. I'd like to be your friend though." She ignored his scoffing, plunging ahead. "So here's the order: I order you to not try and trick or force me to give you orders. And I order you to only do things for me if the link makes you, or because you actually want to do it; no assuming something I ask is an order. Understand?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the cold movement of the command array filled the link, like bolts sliding home in a lock. Ru weathered it with stoic banality, but his mind was working in overdrive. He wondered if she knew exactly what she'd done; while both quashing his act of rebellion and asserting his freedom, she also vastly limited the link's own operations. It now required explicit orders instead of interpreted ones; a small thing until one was in a situation where they didn't have the time to say 'I order you'.

"Yes, Miss Taylin." He finally acknowledged.

"Good." She said, sounding as if she'd just laid aside a great burden. "Now... would you be kind enough to give me a piece of that fish? I am still a little hungry..."

The 'a little' part of that was a lie. Ru could tell. But she wasn't starving to death at the moment and it wasn't an order, so...

"No." He said curtly and was shocked to see her smile. It wasn't just a fake one either, it carried over in the link too.

"Good." She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky. "It worked."

He snarled a little at her and stood up, keeping the scythe leaned across both shoulders. "I need to find a whetstone if this will be of any use tomorrow."

***

When he returned twenty minutes later, he wasn't at all surprised to find that the remaining fish was gone. Taylin was lying on her side, watching the fire with her old clothes folded into a crude pillow beneath her head. He didn't say a word, only sat down and began to remake the scythe blade with effort and spellwork. The hissing sound of stone on metal filled the air for more than an hour.

Finally, the weariness that had been dogging him since he awakened in the chamber after putting Taylin to sleep caught up to him. It wasn't necessarily a need to sleep, only to rest and be comfortable. Just as he now needed food to regain energy, so too did he need periods of inactivity to conserve it.

Reluctantly, he set the scythe aside, making a note to himself to later smooth out the splintery knobs where he had snapped off the handles. Then he shifted into a form in which he could make himself comfortable. He wasn't in that form long before a tired voice questioned it.

"Ru?" Taylin asked, shifting her position slightly to make sure she saw what she thought she was seeing. "Why are you a cat?"

_A cat can make himself comfortable anywhere, Miss Taylin._ The gray and white splotched tom with familiar, yellow eyes, flicked a notched ear and sprawled before the fire.

"Oh." She lay back down and closed her eyes. "Ru? Can I ask a favor?"

_By your own order, I don't have to fulfill it_. He replied smugly.

"I know. That's why I'm asking."

What?

"Could you make the fire extra hot like you did before?"

He hmm'd mentally at this. It was such a small and useless thing that was no effort on his part. So he responded in the affirmative.

_Sleep, Miss Taylin. I'll tend the fire_.

# Chapter 7 – Battle Lines

The superstitious, particularly those with no talent in magic of their own, offer dire warnings about its use; especially for the abilities they covet most. Chief among them is transmutation. Borrowing the shape of another, they hypothesize, always carries the threat of that shape dictating the shape of one's mind. Above all, they fear the loss of self.

As far as Ru was aware, there was never a danger of that for even the most bumbling of shapeshifters. In fact, crafting a spell to make such a thing happen on purpose was almost more trouble than it was worth.

True, in taking on another form, it was a common shortcut to overlay the intended creature's instincts because it is easier to borrow the ability to run on four legs or breathe fire than to learn how the natural way. But the shapeshifter's mind was always in control as long as they were conscious.

Conscious being the key word.

He woke up sprawled on his belly. Someone was scratching his head and _blazes_ did it feel good. A purr rumbled out of him and he rolled his head beneath the stroking hand to get the maximum effect. And as good as that felt, the cat within told him there was something even better. Languidly, he rolled over and with a drawling yowl, demanded belly rubs.

The hand complied. So very good. The cat was right. Wait, now it was a bit too close to the throat. The cat would have none of that and Ru agreed. The purr became a rough growl and he cracked open an eye to shoot a glare at Taylin for the...

Not Taylin.

Arunsteadeles. The charlatan.

The growl became a hiss that steadily became less feline and more primeval. He threw himself away from the surprised chronicler's hand and transformed. The scythe appeared in his hands, raised in a fashion that informed the other man that he was but a stalk of wheat.

In the same moment, Kaiel had gone from sitting by the fire, now merely banked embers, to crabbing backward from the murderous shapeshifter. It was quite clear that he wasn't expecting the dozing tom under his hand to transform into a scythe wielding madman.

"You!" They both accused at the same time.

"Why were..." For once, the eloquence of loreman tradition failed Kaiel. "A cat...What?!"

Ru scowled at him, and lowered his weapon by inches. "As I informed Miss Taylin; a cat can get comfortable anywhere. I didn't expect to be accosted in my sleep. Who goes around petting strange cats?"

Kaiel sputtered. "People! That, and mousing, are what cats are for!"

Before he would retort, Ru became aware of amusement in the link. Taylin was trying to mask her mirth, but didn't know how. It was actually fairly interesting to him that she was doing as well as she was, having no magical knowledge and no understanding of the link. By the same mechanism, he knew to turn almost completely around to spot her.

She stuffed almost half a cooked potato into her mouth to cover her expression. _Good morning, Ru._ She sent, failing completely now to conceal the humor she was feeling at the situation.

He narrowed his eyes at her. _Why didn't you tell him?_

_I didn't even notice until he was already scratching your head. We were talking and he's very distracting._ To her credit, she made an attempt to look ashamed, but it was a losing effort while she was holding in laughter.

Ru scowled harder at her, but it only made her worse. Something light, like a disembodied giggle echoed briefly in the link. He was certain it wasn't her. Perhaps the link's magical arrays were damaged by Dey's stroke against the hailene. Testing was required. But for now, his pride demanded he strike back.

Hovering over to the other side of the fire from both of them, he came down to a sitting position. The scythe was across his knees and he fixed them both with a ferocious glare. "I'm an ancient monster, you know; not some wooly creature that does tricks to amuse."

Kaiel blinked. "Ancient monster?"

Taylin blanched.

"Heh." Ru bared his teeth in a cruel smile and made sure Taylin felt _his_ amusement. For whatever reason, she was uncomfortable with explaining their impromptu time travel, but it wasn't _his_ secret. Besides, it was a good method of seeing if the chronicler was as intelligent as he put on. As a final turn of the screw, he abruptly passed the discussion by. "Whetstone."

Taylin relaxed a fraction and reached over to where the stone and her broken blade rested on the smooth block Ru created the night before. "I had to use it to get my sword in some kind of shape. The villagers only have spears for weapons." She shivered, but only a tiny bit. Ru only noticed because of the link. "I hate spears."

The underhand toss that followed hit Ru squarely in the chest and nearly bowled him over. She hadn't meant it, and was horrified by it.

"Ru!" She was on her feet in an instant, as if she could do anything to help if he had been hurt. In truth, the lash of concern made him wince more than the stone slamming into him.

He merely grunted and started to work on the blade. The concern mounted and Taylin wasn't going to let the matter rest.

"I'm sorry." She said earnestly. "I thought you were going to catch it."

Her worry was going to give him a headache. Without issuing a single order, she left him no choice but to reply. "Because you've seen me fight?" He asked, though it sounded like a statement. She nodded and he smirked. "Yes, it does seem as if I have prodigious physical abilities, but those all come from knowing how and when to shift. When it comes to feats of muscle, I am equal only to a mortal man."

Mortal child, actually. He wasn't about to directly admit a weakness. It wasn't even a weakness, he assured himself. He simply didn't bother using the strength of his normal body when magic was superior in every way.

Taylin was about to apologize again, but Kaiel cut her off by clearing his throat. Ru was suddenly very happy to have him around.

"As I mentioned to Taylin," He began as if the incident earlier hadn't happened, "The scouts estimate that the bandits will arrive by noon from the northwest. Their King is with them and he's bringing one hundred and a score horses and four spiders."

"Spiders." Ru repeated, incredulous. Taylin set her jaw.

Kaiel gave both of them a look. "Neither of you have heard of riding spiders before? Strange. Well the basics are that they're twenty feet, leg to leg, can carry three or four riders depending on the style of howdah that's strapped to them, and they don't care a bit about walls; not even walls made of wagons. They go right over."

"Kill the spiders, then the horses. I see."

"No!" Taylin said. He gave her a look. "No, you can't kill the horses. The villagers can use them or sell them. They're too valuable to just kill." She knew what she was talking about: standard pacification technique among the hailene shock units were slaughtering or stealing the local livestock so they had no food but what they were allowed, and nothing to trade for weapons.

"I'm not allowed to kill the horses?" Ru glared at her. So much of his preferred repertoire for combat on open ground. He subscribed to the philosophy that collateral damage was the best kind of damage. Killing the man and not the horses would make the whole thing tedious.

"There is a practical upshot to that." Kaiel offered. Of course he would side with Taylin. Or against Ru. Ru wasn't entirely sure which this was.

"And what would that be?"

"The halfling rules of warfare scavenge: you keep what you kill. You kill a man in rightful battle and anything of his would be yours. That includes the horse, I suppose."

"What need do I have for horses?" Ru spat, dragging the whetstone roughly across the scythe. Disappointment in the thing weighted heavily on him. It was a rushed creation, the working on it temporary.

"You could sell them." Kaiel got to his feet. "Forgive me for saying, but both of you are woefully under-equipped for traveling in this part of the world. Some coin wouldn't do you any harm."

"That's true." Taylin said, sheepishly. "We had to leave where we were before so quickly that we couldn't take anything with us. But still, we couldn't take horses from the villagers."

"We wouldn't be taking from them, we would be taking from men who will very shortly be gone from this world." reasoned Ru.

Kaiel was forced to agree with the mage. "The villagers don't have a say in this. The Winter Willow is fighting the bulk of the battle, so everyone will follow their rules of warfare. Those that can fight will fill in the gaps in the defensive formation, and if they bring a man down, what's his is theirs."

"A society with sense." Ru approved of the halfling way more every time he heard of it.

Not wanting to get into a discussion about the validity of the multiple cultures on Ere, Kaiel let that go past and continued his original explanation. "Taylin, if you would help hold the center gap with what few villagers that know how to set a pike, I'd appreciate it."

"Wherever I will be the most help." She replied and earned a mocking snort from Ru.

The surly mage shouldered his scythe and set eyes on the chronicler. "They appointed you general in this then? Is that another hat hung in your wardrobe, charlatan? Wizard, philosopher, scholar, and now tactician?"

Kaiel's back straightened. He covered it by smoothing out the vest he was wearing in lieu of a coat that crisp morning. "That's precisely what it means to be on the path of the loreman. You learn a great deal and you give people the benefit of that knowledge. I've studied the great battles of the War of Ascension and the Age of Tragedies; so yes, I believe I qualify as a tactician."

"Very well _tactician_ , what role am I to play in this battle?" Ru smugly awaited what he was sure would be a lame counter.

"Same as I: Disruption."

Ru scoffed. "Fool. A real wizard's role is raining down hellfire until the very memory of the foe turns to ash."

Kaiel smirked and Ru knew there was nothing pleasant coming of it. "Twice a fool," countered the chronicler. "Because raining hellfire is the role of mages who are _not_ concerned with slaughtering the enemy horses." The sound that followed was the grinding of Ru's teeth.

Satisfied at finally besting him, Kaiel turned to walk back to his wagon. "And pay attention during the battle: today is the last day you call me a charlatan." With that, he disappeared through the door. It was only with the source of his most immediate irritation gone that Ru caught the feeling of crossness emanating from Taylin.

"What?" He asked without looking at her.

"Why can't you two get along?" She asked with her words, but her tone asked 'why can't you get along with him?', which was a fundamentally different query.

"You've already purchased a larger mercy for horses than any man who takes the field today can hope for." He replied. "Do not test Fate's love for you by attempting to barter even an ounce of respect for that charlatan.

"He's been nice to us, Ru."

"Nice to you. If only for the curve of your hip and swell of your bust." He shot back.

"What?"

" _Nydn tarome angua sumeres noctun._ "

Taylin gasped, horror in her tone and crimson staining her cheeks. "He wouldn't!"

Ru couldn't conceal his surprise at her reaction, that there was a reaction. And when he figured out what had happened, he groaned. "The link refuses to aid your understanding of a plain idiom, but it _will_ translate a language four thousand years dead."

"You didn't know it did that?"

He shook his head and shifted the scythe to the other shoulder. "Not at all. I pluck the language from a person's head almost on instinct. There has never been a need before."

"So..." She was cautious, avoiding eye contact. "Even you don't know everything it does?"

A growl caught in his throat, but he stopped it and suppressed the link so she wouldn't feel the rage and shame boiling deep inside. He would admit every weakness before he would admit that there was ever someone better at him at spellwork, given all time and resources.

The link was a masterpiece of layered spell arrays, conditionals, mentalism and null spaces. He understood the basics of its creation; the founding principles, but he had no idea what in its structure allowed it to judge and decide what was an order or not. As far as he knew, it was the pinnacle of his craft—and blazes and weirdings, did he hate that fact even more than what the link did to him.

Eventually, he became aware of the fact that he'd simply been floating there, saying nothing. Taylin was staring at him, confused. Somewhat amusingly, she'd picked up her sword and held it as if to examine it in order to cover that look.

Holding up a hand, he spooled out his personal power in thin skeins and sent it to wrap the weapon. Taylin let out a small sound of protest when he tugged it out of her hands and drew it to his own with the skeins of force. Still silent, he imagined a framework of lines and angles drawn over the surface.

Then he poured power; the energies of _akua_ and _ferif_ , into it. Reshaping wood was simple; it didn't resist much at all and simply flowed into whatever form the caster chose, as did glass. Stone resisted a great deal, but with enough force applied suddenly, rough shapes were simple. Metal, especially worked metal, resisted violently to transmutation, and so as the broken blade was transformed, it spat a cloud of yellow sparks.

The sparks hid much of the actual change from Taylin's view. When it was over though, the blade was shorter, but wider and a uniform width along its entire length. The double edges remained, but the jagged metal where the blade snapped had become smoothed and sharpened, a diagonal tip that effectively formed a third deadly edge at the end of the blade.

He gave it an appraising look before tossing it back to her. She caught it easily by the hilt, her look of confusion only growing. "Thank you?"

Ru disguised his satisfaction at changing the subject with indifference. "The link requires I do what I can to prevent you from coming to harm. As it was, I wouldn't have been surprised if the blade simply shattered the first time you used it."

"Oh. Well I still appreciate it." the former slave offered him a careful smile, knowing full well that he wouldn't return it.

Instead, he only nodded. "I believe I will see if the Grandmother requires any more assistance with spellwork." And without giving her a chance to reply, he was gone.

Taylin looked down at the re-forged sword in her hand. It was shorter than she would have liked, but that had been true even before Ru worked his power on it. There was nothing for it at the moment but to try and get used to the new balance in the weapon. Today was going to be a long and bloody one.

***

The bandit king must have roused his men early, or driven them hard in his anticipation of putting the village to the torch. The dark line of horses, backed by three irregular forms that must have been spiders, arrived a little over an hour early, a small cloud of dust forming behind.

Lookouts atop the wagons spotted them the moment they appeared and sounded the general alarm. The Clan of the White Willow swarmed to life like a hornet nest struck by a stone. Harnesses were secured to wolves. Long rifles, sized for halfling hands and strength, were distributed to scouts, who would be playing the role of sniper in the battle. The children were bundled off into the second white wagon, which was pulled out of the town center and into the barn by a pair of ponies. Those among the villagers that couldn't fight were tasked with a bucket of water or dirt and pressed into fire teams.

Within a score of minutes, the advancing horde was closing within arrow shot, but the defensive positions were ready for them.

Taylin stood in the forward gap, just behind the trip lines. When the charge came, the bulk of the force would meet her first, directly after negotiating the final traps. Behind her, just over a dozen villagers, mostly teenaged boys, stood with heavy spears, backed up with nothing more than a hunting knife, or even a fish scaler. Earlier, there had been bravado and boasts about how many bandits they would kill. Now that it was setting in that the fight was very real, they grew quiet.

On either side of her were Ru and Kaiel.

The chronicler was in yet another outfit; heavy, darkly tanned duster, crimson shirt with flamboyant ruffles, and light, canvas pants the same color as the duster. He wore the same hat, the one with the metal plates that he'd worn when they met. The rifle was back on its strap slung over one shoulder and it was joined by smaller firearms ('six-shot pistols' as he'd explained when she'd asked. It seemed to be another thing he couldn't believe she didn't know.) at his hips. His eyes were focused on the approaching line.

"Atra-co gunne!" Came a shout from one of the lookouts from her post atop one of the houses.

"They're within range for a good rifle." Kaiel translated for her and the others around her. The flute came out from a pocket in his duster. "I'm about to raise a screen." He raised his voice for the benefit of the snipers stationed atop the wagons on either side of them. There were only six of them, Grandfather and Raiteria, wife of Bromun, among them.

"Wait for it to resolve, then fire at will. Archers and men with rifles first, but it you can pick out a mage, take the shot." He placed the flute to his lips and blew out a low, throbbing tune.

On the other side of Taylin, Ru sneered. He didn't sense any magic. There wasn't even an attempt at using alchemy or other practical trick to produce an effect. He was confident that he'd been quite correct to peg the other man as a charlatan.

Then the air began to ripple and distort like clear oil poured on glass. Still, there was no discernible magic. Ru's sneer faded. "Odds bobs." He muttered. It was one of the newer oaths in his repertoire; he'd learned it only two masters ago, but he liked the way it rolled off the tongue. It made Taylin give him another of her confused looks.

That expression did not last into your time?

No... I've heard it, but I don't remember where...

The ripple in the air slowed and stabilized until it was only evidenced by a slight blur. At the same time, telltale wisps of smoke started to rise from the rearmost ranks of riders. Pitch arrows were being lit. Kaiel stopped playing and made the flute disappear with some mundane sleight of hand before raising his own rifle.

"Fire!" He cried. Seven rifles cracked in a staggered cacophony and Ru learned what rifles did.

The first shot, he realized it was from Grandfather, went straight through the eye of an archer, killing the man instantly. Another, Kaiel's, tore cleanly through armor and ruined another man's arm, while still another gave a female archer a stinging wound across her ribs. Raiteria's bullet found the gut of one of the torch runners, who was lighting arrows along the line.

He fell, doubled over, and accidentally ignited the saddle blanket of the next horse in line. The animal shrieked and reared, trying to get away from the flame. None of the other horses reacted.

"Why aren't they panicking?" Ru rumbled disapprovingly. In his day, horses were skittish and fearful.

"Fear-bred." Kaiel explained, chambering another bullet. "From birth, they're kept in a special corral inside the spider cages. They live every second in abject terror until they're numb to it."

"Heh." Ru grinned with all the malevolence in his being. "Then I will simply have to strike fear into the riders instead." In a rush of air, he soared straight up. His cloak and robes billowed and the blade of his scythe gleamed even under the overcast sky.

That's when he got to _feel_ what rifles did.

The tiny chunk of lead went right through his robe and bored into his thigh until it struck and splintered bone. The flash of pain caused him to falter. It was like being stung by an insect, but his impeccable awareness of his body; born of centuries of shape-changing, told him just how much damage had been done.

At the same time, he sharpened his senses and picked out exactly where the shot had come from. The man, astride his horse, was reaching into a bag at his side for another bullet.

Suddenly the pain and damage were forgotten. They would heal when he next changed shape anyway. Instead of tending the wound, he teleported. One moment, he was still high above the forward gap, the next he was six feet off the ground, and less distance than that from the man who shot him.

The scythe swept in an upward motion, piercing through a weak point in the shooter's armor; the armpit he exposed while reaching for his next projectile. The spellwork Ru placed on it allowed it to cleave cleanly through rib and sternum, bisecting both heart and one lung along the way. It was over so quickly that the shooter never knew Ru was there.

A scream of surprise and rage caused Ru to turn in the air to see the woman who had been riding beside the shooter drawing her sword. He let her, then turned the scythe to swing it downward for her head. Her sword caught it inches from splitting her scalp, but a twist allowed the curved blade to trap the sword and rip it from her one handed grasp.

Ru took one hand off the scythe's handle and transformed it into a hammer, swinging it laterally and hard enough to both cave in her chest and launch her off the back of her horse.

Almost immediately, a spear drove into his side and its wielder tried to use it to force him to ground.

He succeeded in that Ru dismissed the scythe with a spell and became an ogre; landing heavily before sending the spear user flying with a massive backhand.

By now, the entire bandit contingent knew he was there in their ranks. Someone was sounding a charge and someone else was issuing orders to concentrate on him. Confusion reigned and the charge started off haphazardly.

Another fool with a spear charged him and he became a dire wolf, bounding over both the spear and the horse's shoulder to lock jaws around the rider's neck. He dragged the man screaming from his horse and worried him like an oversized rabbit until his neck snapped.

Attack. Counter. Response. Counter-response. It was a game he knew how to play and he was enjoying it. Probably too much. He shifted from a wolf and into an ankyl—the club-tailed, armor-backed form he used when he fought the hounds, and used a precise swing of his tail to send a man flying off the side of his horse with a thoroughly mangled arm.

He didn't even care if they were dying or not. It wasn't the point. The point was countering and humiliating them for even daring to try and meet the Rune Breaker in battle.

The sound of many bow-strings snapping reminded him that there was another, possibly more important, point to all this. He was supposed to be disrupting the attack. And that probably included the flight of flaming arrows he looked up to see arcing into the sky, set to land on the village's dry, reed roofs.

# Chapter 8 – Filling the Gap

Kaiel watched the first two victims of Ru's rampage fall. The line around him faltered as riders alternately attempted to flee, or charged forward to end it. The ones that chose the later charged into an increasingly creative meat grinder.

All the while, the snipers took shots as they found them. Here an archer clutched at a wounded limb, there one fell dead. Whoever was directing the bandit force managed to catch that in spite of Ru's distraction and ordered the charge before the archers were prepared to cover.

The chronicler saw what they were trying to do; screening the archers with the bodies and dust of the advance group. It worked, but only where the charge managed to get started.

Except for where Grandfather aimed. The aged halfling had grown up in Rizen, where the long rifle was born and popularized, and he was good enough that three archers could testify to it already; two dead and missing eyes, one whose middle and fourth fingers had been blown off. In spite of the charge, he carefully waited for a shot and removed the kneecap of the other torch runner.

"He's not even bothering with the archers." Kaiel observed of Ru.

Taylin was fighting hard not to chew her lip or show any fear, lest she spook the villagers. "I think he's enjoying himself too much to think much about it." She replied in a tight voice.

"Fire arrows coming." They both looked down to find that Grandmother had sidled up between them without their noticing. She was dressed in full vestments as a servant of the nature goddess, Sylph: a mud-brown robe with a belt woven with living grass and a cord of the same, from which hung a live, perpetually ripe strawberry. At her side sat the urn. The halfling matriarch didn't allow either of them to waste time talking, simply pointing out on the field.

Out of some thirty archers, a bit less than half were able to both survive the snipers _and_ manage to get an arrow lit. On a desperate order, they let fly. Thirteen blazing shafts leapt skyward, accompanied by half that many that weren't lit.

Warning came from the lookouts, who raised their leather shields. The villagers on the line and in the fire crews had no such cover and many of them broke for the houses.

Grandmother ignored it all and took the lid off her urn. Red, etched sigils flashed around the lip of the vessel and a geyser of mist issued forth from it to a height of thirty feet before spreading out like a parasol. It blocked out what little of the sun there was, but more importantly, when the flaming arrows met it, their deadly payload hissed out.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to actually stop the arrows, which pelted down behind the wagons and onto the nearest roofs. The snipers hastily rolled backward off the side of the wagons, crawling to their second position beneath them.

A wolf yelped and began to whine, an arrow just missing it's spine by the grace of its harness deflecting it. One of the young men behind Taylin went down screaming, pierced through the forearm. It took two of his friends to drag him back away from the line, drastically reducing the numbers at her back. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. None of those boys, in her opinion, had any business there. Hopefully, the other two would take the excuse to stay with their friend.

"Ru Brakar is not going to deal with their archers." Grandmother informed Kaiel. He nodded his understanding before letting the rifle hang again and putting the flute to his lips. As he started to play, Grandmother shouted something in the halfling language and gestured over the urn.

Two things happened immediately. First, the cloud formed from the urn suddenly dropped to ground level, spreading out in an impenetrable mist bank about four feet high. Second, the halfling warriors took up a deep, undulating cry that Taylin couldn't believe halfling voices would produce. A moment later and the wolves responded with howls; the two sounds becoming a monster all its own. Then both warriors and wolves hurled themselves into the mists.

The tune Kaiel was playing on the flute was oddly apropos. With all the howling, the war cries, and even the cries of the injured young man, it was the music that made gooseflesh break out on the back of Taylin's neck. Kaiel noticed her expression, and without stopping, pointed out over the field with his free hand.

Without being directed to it, Taylin might not have noticed, but a patch of sky above the rear line of the bandit force was oddly dim, as if someone was holding a piece of delicately smoked glass in front of it. And it was getting darker by the moment.

Some of the bandits noticed too. But by then, it was too late. Suddenly, the dim spot in the air erupted into a great swarm of bats. In the hundreds, the creatures poured out of the dark aether and swooped down upon the line of archers that were preparing to loose a second volley. Tiny claws latched on, minute teeth nipped and scratched, and leathery wings filled the air so thickly that breathing seemed impossible.

The 'fearless' horses went instantly mad. Inhuman screams burst out from all quarters along the line as they bucked and kicked and threw themselves on the ground in desperation to be rid of the vermin. And where they did, their riders were thrown, slammed, and crushed by their own mounts.

Taylin watched, stunned. "I thought they were immune to..."

"They are." Kaiel assured her, finally taking the flute away from his lips. The satisfied smile on his face was a sin unto itself. "But only to mundane fear. Those aren't bats, you see; each one of them is a minor fear spell in constructed form, doubled again and again by the pattern I was playing."

She was going to comment on that, but at that moment, the lead horse in the charge went down with a terror-filled whinny. There wasn't any indication what made it fall, but the swirl of mist and guttural snarl followed a cessation of whinnying made it clear why it and its rider didn't get back up.

Soon, she was seeing evidence of the strength of the Clan of the Winter Willow all over the field. Here, a weighted chain wrapped the length of a spear and tore it from its owner's grasp. Elsewhere, a halfling wielding a pair of kurkis vaulted out of the boiling sea of mist and onto the back of a horse, plunging his blades into the rider's flank. Still elsewhere, two sets of chains were thrown in tandem, catching a woman across the neck and arm and pulling her off her horse and into the wolf haunted fog.

It wasn't all victory, however. In one part of the field, a trio of riders were riding close and watching each other's flanks. When a bounding warrior finally took the bait, he found himself with a saw-edged spearhead in his gut. In another, a huge black charger, a breed apart from most of the other horses in the bandits' number, seemed to be almost having fun; dishing out bone shattering kicks to both halflings and wolves that came too close while its rider warned others off with his sword.

For their numbers, less than a third of the force they were repelling, the White Willow was doing far more damage than the bandits. But even with their best and most brutal effort, a sizable number of raiders were still going to make the gap.

Taylin saw the first few win past the skirmish and make straight toward her. The part of her that was a soldier knew the situation immediately and she slipped into a stance for receiving the charge on foot: knees bent, weight ready for the side step, and sword low for an up-swing, or to bat aside a lance. Let them come. She knew exactly what to do.

***

By the time Ru finally ran out of immediate opponents and turned his attention to the archers, it was just in time to see the bat swarm descend on them in his stead. By virtue of a trained eye and a spare sense when it came to magic, he identified them as very simple spells expressed in a somewhat exotic form.

No one of them was an impressive feat for any but a novice, but they weren't what made him come to a halt mid-battle. It was that they were being generated; perfect copy after perfect copy, likely from the ambient emotional energy that surrounded the bandits. Not only that, but as with the screen earlier, and Kaiel's alleged endurance spells from their first meeting, Ru couldn't sense the array constructing the fear-bats. And that was inconceivable.

Since he was old enough to draw upon magic, he'd had a knack for identifying it. The natural magic of elements that existed all around, the pure energy from within himself, the overwhelming, but restricted forces portioned out from the gods; they were all different, but also the same fundamentally.

What the chronicler was tapping, while it must work on the same principles as magic in order to generate spell constructs, was something else entirely. Something Ru could not identify, or anticipate, or control. And that did not sit well with the Rune Breaker. Understanding was the core of his being, more than battle and death. Even spellwork was a means to an end and that end was understanding.

He hated the man even more now.

And had his mind not been on magic at that time, he might have sensed the oncoming attack and sidestepped. Green liquid, formed up into a fist-sized comet, hissed past him and spattered in a line along the ground some distance behind. Where it landed, it bubbled and steamed.

Acid. Ru realized. Green acid. Some things never changed.

Tutors of magic taught basic substance transmutation, starting with a very simple water-to-acid spell that inherently turned the resultant caustic green to distinguish it from the base water. The uncreative and ignorant never bothered removing the color change when building upon that.

He sneered at the amateur effort as he turned to face the source.

It was his first time seeing a riding spider. It was a huge beast; twice as tall as a horse with a central body larger than three, brown with spine-like hairs jutting out all over its body. The bandits had strapped a large platform to its thorax, replete with a railing and two hard seats, back to back. In front of that was a smaller platform, resting just behind the head with a single hard seat with standing space behind.

There was a body slumped in the forward facing chair on the large platform, dressed in robes and a hark hood. A decoy meant to die on behalf of the real mage, who stood on the back of the smaller platform, just in front of a harried looking woman who controlled the spider's movements by way of a hook-tipped goad.

From a distance, it was probably hard to tell the mage from his fellows, him being in a shirt and trousers, but up close, he stood out clearly. The trousers were cotton instead of rough hide or canvas and the shirt was dark red, like blood, and made from fine silk with polished enamel toggles. His hair was long, wild and unbound so that it fell in a black mane.

The spider moved within a slowly shifting cage of green lightening which erupted from flaring points on the ground and earthed themselves in the mage's open palm.

Ru recognized it as a persistent gathering array, using the energies _akua_ and _ere-a_ to constantly transmute water vapor in the air into the caustic substance that was magical acid. That moved the man out of the ignorant category and into the uncreative. Something else Ru loathed, but at least he might be an interesting opponent.

His sneer grew into a cocky grin that bared one set of incisors. "That is a very nice shirt." He observed. The compliment drew the other mage up short in the middle of casting. Ru just kept talking. He could have snapped up a shield without a thought and blocked such meager acid blasts, but that wouldn't have been creative.

"I've been told about the halfling way of battlefield spoils: that if you kill a man in battle, you get to take everything he owns. I fancy the shirt. What else do you have to make yourself worth killing?"

The mage responded by hurling a larger blast of acid than the first, which Ru caught with a spellwork shield of _vin_ , energy of air, which followed the motion of his palm.

"Fool! Do you know who you're trying to threaten?" He demanded of Ru, "I am Hurden: flesh melter, bone dissolver. When I'm done with you, even the crows will starve on what little of your remains."

He sneered down from his perch atop the spider. "I've been watching you and your shape-changing. Such a low form of magic is almost below me to engage. But if you insist, I will show you how a _real_ wizard fights!" With that, he drew power from the gathering array around him and flung an acid bolt as large as a human head at Ru.

"Heh." The spellwork over Ru's hand blocked and consumed it as easily as it did the previous one. Tension built up on his wrist and forearm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the link registered pain on Taylin's part and tugged at him to act to aid her. But the pain was a fraction of a fraction of what she'd suffered in the battle with the hounds. She would be fine. And the link seemed to agree.

He glanced down to see visible black lines tracing a maze pattern across the skin there. Trapping and storing spells usually required an object to act as the vessel and an hour or more of preparation, not to mention knowledge of the spell before hand. If one wasn't adverse to risking great personal injury should a spell prove more powerful than expected, and were capable of changing shape to mimic a prepared array on one's own body on the fly, however, there was another option.

"Is that all you've got?" A barking laugh escaped him and his yellow eyes flashed madness. "That isn't how real mages fight. This is." He shifted subtly to alter the spell and whipped the spell trapping arm laterally. A tentacle of vivid, blue acid writhed out of the aether in the wake of the gesture and crashed down heavily across all four legs on the spider's left side.

The hairs in the affected area melted instantly and the chitin wasn't far behind, filling the air with a most repulsive stench. Finding itself in sudden agony, the spider let out a sound like hundreds of thin, taunt wires being drawn across one another and tried to shift off its injured legs. Its frantic motion almost dislodged its handler and pitched Hurden the flesh melter into the dust.

Rolling with the fall, Hurden was swift to dodge out of the path of the berserking spider and impressed Ru by managing to maintain the persistent array.

Not enough to let him live of course.

The bandit mage skidded to a stop as Ru appeared in front of him. "Normally, I would skewer you through the belly and let you enjoy the slow death of a gut wound." he informed Hurden. "But I don't want to ruin my prize. Do you really want to know how mages fight?"

Fear gripped the bandit and he turned to flee.

"Nightmare Syndrome." Ru's voice said behind him, becoming deep and rumbling like a far off storm.

Hurden didn't get more than three steps before there was a sound of metal whistling through the air and the curved blade of a scythe tore his arm cleanly off at the shoulder joint. He gasped and tried to stagger on through the pain. Another slash, this one drew a white hot line of agony across his shoulders. Crying out in pain, he didn't hear the next one coming until it tore through his lower back. Barely a moment passed before another cut hamstrung him and sent him sprawling face down in the dust. One last slash came, aimed cleanly at his neck and darkness followed.

In the real world, Hurden hadn't even managed to turn. He was still standing directly in front of Ru as his body jerked with each imaginary wound Ru inflicted within the psychic world conjured by the Nightmare Syndrome. Finally, his head snapped back and with a tiny, strangled sound, he collapsed in a heap.

Ru looked down at him disdainfully, then started to bend down in order to claim the silk shirt. It was then that he registered real pain on Taylin's part, something the link simply wouldn't allow him to ignore. He swore death upon anyone who might claim or ruin his prize before his return and mentally reached into the link.

Somewhere in those dozens of interlinked arrays and spell structures, there was a specialized teleportation spell. It was unidirectional; only capable of sending him to a point within a ten foot radius of the holder of the other end, but it required no energy on his part and activated at the speed of thought.

He triggered it and vanished from the field of battle.

***

Taylin's instincts kicked in as she fell into her stance and the world suddenly became much simpler. In that moment, she was no longer awkward in her newly won freedom, or ignorant of the world she found herself in. Some things did not change, even in the span of centuries: there was a man with a sword, he was on a horse, and he was bearing down on her. For once in the past two days of confusion and strangeness, she knew exactly what to do.

Then the halflings concealed in the wagons on either side of her turned the winches that raised the trip lines. Man and mount suddenly became hundreds of pounds of screaming metal and horse flesh.

She shouted a warning to the boys behind her, hoping that Kaiel and Grandmother could care for themselves, and side-stepped as the horse slid past her in the dust. Its rider pinned helpless with his leg beneath it. Seconds passed until three of the village boys simultaneously reached the conclusion that this was their chance to safely make a 'kill' in battle.

Without any knowledge of how to strike a proper killing blow, they simply set to stabbing wildly until the man lay still.

Taylin might have felt sorry for him if two more riders weren't thundering in behind. Both saw what happened the first time and spurred their mounts to jump the trip lines. The woman on Taylin's left thrust with her spear as they came, while the man to her right swept his sword for her head.

She parried the sword with her own and made to catch the spear on her shield, but the piercing weapon punched right through the leather covering the wagon wheel. Before it could come close enough to strike her, Taylin rolled her arm, catching it by the haft on the spokes and snapping it with her superior strength. Undeterred, the former spear wielder reared back and slashed at her with the broken haft, opening a cut across her forehead that began oozing blood into her eyes.

On the other side, one of the village boys thrust his own spear at the swordsman, but failed to penetrate his armor. The swordsman batted the spear away and answered the young man with a terrible wound across his neck. He never got the chance to celebrate it.

In warding off more rakes with the other rider's broken spear, Taylin saw the vicious attack out of the corner of her eye and rewarded the murderer with a backhanded stroke through the ribs. Keen, magically sharpened steel sheered easily through his leather armor, along the rib line, and back out again, bisecting organs as if it was cutting cloth. The swordsman reflexively curled around the wound, over-balanced and tipped himself off his horse, into the fury of the late young man's friends.

This time, Taylin did not feel sorry as she turned her attention back to the other rider. In fact, her blood felt hot in her veins and she could feel the telltale itch of the scales on her arms, just moments from emerging on her skin. Instead of trying to calm the rage, she harnessed it, using it to slam the broken haft out of the way so she was open to cut the belly band of the other woman's saddle.

With the cut made, she let the haft slip past her defense so that the other woman lurched forward and was dumped off her horse atop the trip lines. Undaunted, the woman sprang to her feet and drew a short sword. Unfortunately for her, she was facing away from Taylin as she did and the former slave laid her back open before she could turn and fight.

Three bandits littered the ground at her feet and three panicked horses bolted past the gap and into the town proper. Taylin resumed her stance only just in time to see the black charger break through the mist with a trio of outriders at its back. Blood stained the horse's hooves and its rider's sword as they came on, intent on simply overrunning her.

A flash of brilliant light flared past the lead rider and took one of the followers in the shoulder. It should have been a glancing blow, but the injured man spasmed, then slumped in the saddle. Taylin risked a glance toward the source to the light to find that in the initial frenzy, Kaiel and Grandmother had scaled the wagon to her right.

Kaiel had his flute gripped tightly in the middle and it was easy to see why, as a gout of silver-white flame poured out of either end, arching back in a shape reminiscent of a bow. Which was exactly what it was, as evidenced by Kaiel miming drawing that bow, which caused an arrow of the same coalesced energy to form and then streak toward the horsemen when released. That shot missed and by then, the group was at the gap.

The lead rider reared his horse as they reached the lines, aiming the animal's huge hooves in Taylin's direction. Unless she wanted the boys behind her to suffer her fate, there was nowhere to dodge. So she didn't. With a snarl that no demi-human could mimic, she stepped forward and caught the flailing hooves on her shield.

Immediately, the wood strained and the tendons in her arm felt as if they were on fire. But she braced the length of the sword beneath it and pushed with both hands; her strength against the mass of the horse. There was a moment of incredible tension, and then suddenly the horse was too far back on its rear legs. It danced a moment more before Taylin angled her shield and threw it over into the horse passing on its right side.

Both beasts shrieked with fear and rage as they went over, colliding hard with the wagon on that side. The rider of the smaller horse never had a chance as he was caught and crushed between the two masses. The smaller horse didn't fair any better as its right front leg shattered.

The rider of the charger, however, leapt from his mount as it fell, rolling expertly and coming up before Taylin could drop her shield. His saw-edged sword tore easily through the blacksmith's apron and rasped as it slid along the outside of her ribs. Her borrowed white robes soon became stained with blood.

_How_ _dare_ _he._ Her voice and yet, not her voice snarled in her head. She brought the shield down to break his arm and would have, were he not swift in freeing his sword and pulling back into a stance. He wasn't fast enough, however, to raise his sword to block the blow she whipped at his head, removing it from his shoulders.

There was movement to her right and she remembered the other rider. Fueled by her mounting anger and the heady feeling of battle, she pivoted cleanly and brought her sword around.

She saw a corpse with its chest pierced through by almost a half dozen black spikes astride the horse moments before a scythe intercepted her strike.

"Yes, Ms. Taylin?" Ru quirked an eyebrow at her.

She blinked blood from her forehead wound out of her eye and it took a moment to register the face and voice through his blood-lust in the link and her own howling rage. "Oh, Ru! I almost..."

"It would have been a small inconvenience to me, yes." He said, and pointed just past the gap where the savvy bandits that made it that far were dismounting so as not to find their mounts become the hindrance they had to those before them. "But I am not the one who should experience it."

She nodded, resolving to apologize properly later, and put her sword into a ready position. "Right."

"Do you require healing?"

She gave that a sliver of a moment's thought. Her side hurt, but it was more shallow than it looked. The wound on her head, however, was dripping into her eyes. Plus, the ecstasy that came with healing was.... distracting, especially the full powered variety.

"Just stop the bleeding." She instructed.

Ru didn't even look at her as he channeled a minute spark of healing magic, _vitae_ , to her through the air. Job done, he looked up and counted at least eight bandits approaching, chest deep in the mist. There were other skirmishes going on all down the line and in the mists, but at the moment, those eight were his intended target.

He let his imagination run wild and grinned a most feral grin.

_May I kill them all, Ms Taylin?_ The question was entirely rhetorical.

To his surprise, he felt her own rage pressing up against his, coupled with a willingness for battle he didn't think she was capable of. She lunged forward before he did.

# Chapter 9 – The King of Flame and Steel

The first man to meet Taylin beyond the trip lines didn't have time to even bring his weapon on guard. She smashed him in the face with the edge of her shield, sending him stumbling back into his fellows, spitting out teeth and blood.

She followed him, shield raised and forced him back into two others while her sword crossed with that of another who tried to move to flank her. In five steps, she had fully engaged a good half of the incoming force.

The other half found worse. A great, tawny lion bounded into their midst, ignoring a spear that skewered its shoulder to drag its wielder to the ground and savage him.

Two of his comrades rushed to help with their swords drawn, only for the lion to rise up and resume Ru's human form, complete with readied scythe. "Come and die." He taunted, showing them his teeth and making a rude gesture too archaic for them to understand. The pair glanced at one another, then let out a rallying cry, charging as one.

Ru laughed harshly and prepared his scythe for the harvest. The cry of the man in the lead was cut off into a yelp as his leg suddenly became useless and he fell, rolling in the dust.

Ru shot a glare in Taylin's direction. The former slave had sliced the tendon in the back of his prey's leg as he passed and went right back to what was now a trio fighting her. She didn't even notice the glare or the discontent he radiated into the link. She was fully engaged in more ways than one.

There was no time to upbraid her further, as the second man was inside his guard. Ru let go of the scythe with one hand to dispatch him with a flesh-sculpted weapon, but a bright flash came from above and the man dropped, shivering uncontrollably.

He blinked down at the prone form before him in confusion. But he wasn't out of potential victims just yet. A low growl formed in his throat as he made eye contact with the fourth man before him, telegraphing a litany of injuries in store with a single look.

It happened again, and this time, Ru saw exactly what transpired: an arrow of white fire streaked down and passed through the terrified bandit. Whatever it was, it made the man instantly convulse and collapse. Frustrated beyond measure, Ru followed the path of its flight backward to find Kaiel atop a wagon, grasping a blazing bow.

With a thought, he found himself almost nose to nose with the chronicler. "Never do that again."

Kaiel stepped back to open some space between them. "We're all working together here, Ru. This line has to hold. Besides, if you're so hungry for murder, you could at least finish them off."

"What?" Ru glanced back down at the battlefield. Taylin had felled another opponent, but he was replaced by two women, both wielding hand axes instead of the standard sword or spear, while the two men that fell from the white-fire arrows continued to writhe on the ground. "You interrupted me in battle and you didn't even succeed in killing _one man_?" his eyes narrowed at the bow. "What is that thing anyhow?"

"Fell-light bow." Kaiel stepped to one side to clear his aim and fired another brilliant shot at a rider approaching in the mist. It missed, but panicked the horse. He scowled at the mistake, but couldn't argue with the result. "Believe it or not, it uses healing magic, in a poorly controlled burst, to disrupt the body temporarily."

Ru continued glaring at him and he felt the need to add, "Shouldn't you be helping Taylin?"

The dark mage gestured to the skirmish below. Taylin sidestepped an ax blow and replied with a heavy chop to the woman's knee before bulling her sideways into the path of one of her compatriot's sword strokes. The blade only drove into her arm, but her collapsing weight pulled the weapon from its holder's grasp.

"Why bother? In any event, as she is now, she would likely lay my belly open the moment I moved out of her blind spot. That would be most unpleasant."

Kaiel paused in his shooting to watch as Taylin turned a quick circle to block both an ax coming from her front and the sword from a hopeful flanker coming up on her sword side without once leaving any real opening to either.

"Is she possessed of some sort of berserker spirit?" He marveled.

Ru laughed mildly. The chronicler might have the same vantage on the battle as him, but the link offered him a much more clear perspective. "It seems like it, doesn't it? And mark you, there is rage in her; but observe how precise and controlled her attacks are. Look at the blocks and feints. She is in total control. She isn't using the rage to enhance the battle, she's using her focus on the battle to quell her rage."

Taylin blocked a falling ax with her sword, but her strength worked against her and the ax's haft snapped, allowing the head to tumble free and bite into her shoulder on the way down. Blood flowed, but the injury was too shallow to stop her. She slammed with her shield and the force snapped the ax-woman's neck.

"Death is a lady plain, who sits beside the path. She offers to sit with you and drink in your last hours. But when she dons her gown and she dances, sings and laughs, she is become Lady War, and her beauty blinds and destroys."

Kaiel gave him an odd look. "Poetry? At a time like this?"

Ru shook his head. "Here and now, I suppose so. But in its time? Religion. Of course, I insult Olera, Lady Death, wife of the Void, Farth Olein to compare her to this timid and squeamish girl. And this rabble is hardly a thing to test her. I find it to be a damning shame on this entire era that they could hold a farmhouse, much less a region of lawless land."

Another fell-light arrow streaked across the battlefield to strike down another rider. "I agree." Kaiel found himself saying. "They're more than enough to take a village like this, but to terrorize places with permanent defenders? They're highly trained and poorly commanded. This bandit king must be all smoke and mirrors."

Ru's eyes narrowed again. "The man on the actual warhorse: was that this king?"

"I don't imagine so. His death didn't seem to effect the charge at all."

"He was one of the ones giving orders when I hit the line." Ru said in a low voice. "But there was more than one and no one seemed sure whose orders to follow. Certainly no one who could call himself a king and not get knifed in his sleep." A thought struck him. "How many spiders did you say they had?"

"Four." Kaiel replied instantly. "And six score horses..."

"I saw only three when the attack began."

"And only five score horses at best."

Ru snarled at the idea of someone else thinking they could outsmart him. "Enough to hide under a woodling cloak if they move slowly." Before the chronicler could say another word, he launched himself into the air. He reached a height that put the entire village and surrounding it in view and turned a slow circle.

A woodling cloak moved light and sound, preventing the most obvious methods of detection, but the wider it was (and thus, the more people it covered), the more difficult it was to move without leaving a visible distortion where light bent unnaturally. The limit of such a cloak was based on the skill of the caster and the quality of the power source; but one thing the cloak didn't do was cover tracks.

And with the amount of dust in and around the tiny hamlet, it wasn't long before he spotted a mass disturbance in it. And it was within sprinting distance of the northeastern segment of the wagon line.

"To hell with Taylin's compassion for horses." He muttered, visualizing the basic pattern for an explosive fireball and filling it with his personal stores of _flaer_. He sent it hurtling toward the center of the dusty disturbance.

In answer, a small, yellow star flared into being below, rotating as it rose to meet the fireball and kindling into a conflagration of its own, only in the shape of a hurricane in miniature instead of a sphere. The two spells collided fifty feet in the air and exploded with a deafening eruption.

The lookouts instantly pinpointed the source of the second flame and relayed it to the lines. A howl went up that was soon answered by the wolves and their hunter partners out in the mists. The battle line began to shift, but all too slowly.

With no more reason to hide, whoever was maintaining the cloak released it and the secondary fighting force of the bandit king's army was revealed. Twenty-five men strong, these were no mounted rabble in worn leathers. Their armor was piecemeal, but here and there, were full shirts of chain. They were augmented by quality hardened leather, odds and ends of steel plate, and segments of chitin from enormous insects. Every man and woman was helmeted and carried a tower shield of reinforced wood to complement their fine steel tridents, bill hooks and spears.

At the fore was another spider, it's hairy body doused in red dye, with a black lacquered howdah strapped to it. Behind the spider's handler stood, presumably, another decoy mage. But behind him, on the main platform, stood a figure in fine black leather with iron greaves and gauntlets. His face was unhidden by any helmet, allowing him to sneer proudly and likely to show off his clean shaven face and long, unbound, brown hair. One ear was weighted down with rings of silver and gold; the other was missing.

The bandit king.

He held in both hands a fine, two-handed sword; its double bladed length dull, but for the fuller running down its center length, which shone silver. Still sneering, he raised the sword and the silver began to glow dull orange, then intensified to the brilliance of flame.

A second star awoke just above the sword's guard, tracing the fuller's length as it rotated. The bandit king brought his weapon down as if to slash an unseen foe from clavicle to hip and in doing so, unleashed the burning whirlwind. It tore through the air, kicking up the dust with the wind of its passing until it collided with the wagon directly in the king's path.

The explosion tore it apart and ignited everything flammable within, including the line crews lying in wait for a charge. Bits of burning wood scattered from the epicenter and into the space between wagons and houses.

"By order of the King of Flame and Steel: no one in or around this village lives to see the setting of the sun!" The king bellowed, raising his sword on high. His warriors roared their agreement and threw themselves at the burning breech in the Winter Willow's defenses. The spider skittered ahead, it's long legs eating more ground than any soldier. It and by extension, the king, bypassed the nearest houses and entered the center of the village unopposed before any defenders could even attempt to fill the gap.

The spider's handler wheeled the giant arachnid around, sighting it on the village storehouse by unspoken agreement.

"Bear witness before you die." A simple spellworking of _vin_ caused his speech to roll out over the square. "For you were warned and you have earned the full wrath of the King of Flame and Steel." He thrust the sword skyward. "This is Dóttir Logi, the Eastern Brand. It is the instrument of your ultimate punishment!" In a lower voice, he commanded the sword, activating a spell within, "Ignite."

From somewhere near the Eastern Brand's guard, two tongues of flame erupted; one crimson, one pale yellow. They chased one another through the air around the length of the blade, becoming a blazing double helix around it.

He reared back to swing as he did before, but at the last minute, twitched the blade to the side. At the same time, a shot echoed across the square and something struck the sword, kicking up a burst of sparks obviously generated by one of the spells laid down within the weapon.

The King of Flame and Steel glared in the direction it came from, finding Raiteria kneeling at the corner of one of the houses, already reloading her rifle. With a snarl of rage, he once more lifted and swung his sword, sending his hell-storm in her direction.

It detonated on contact with something ten feet in front of her, which then surged forward like an earthbound meteor. That something was soon revealed, with the dying of the flames, to be a rapidly disintegrating wagon wheel wrapped in hide, which was utterly annihilated in the conflagration.

Taylin shook the remains of her makeshift shield from her arm as she continued forward. Her long stride quickly removed the distance between her and the king and before he could bring the Eastern Brand's deadly attack to bear again, she threw all of her considerable strength into a fantastic leap.

Clothes smoldering, bloodied and with an intense look carved upon her face, she looked an avenging angel even without wings. Her bound brought her right up to the King's level and her razor met his brand with a clang and a burst of orange sparks before the force of their meeting drove both of them off the opposite edge of the howdah.

Both hit the ground in practiced combat rolls, coming up to a knee almost as one. The King beat her in getting to his feet and charged with an overhand strike that she blocked almost without looking. The Eastern Brand spat sparks in her face, a deliberate design to put melee opponents either off balance or set them on fire.

Taylin was susceptible to neither and easily found her feet without disengaging her locked blade. Once she did, she pushed him back with ease, opening the distance of a sword length between them.

The King dropped into a classically trained stance. "So these ashing dirt eaters really were holding out on me. When I saw they were so desperate that they threw themselves upon the charity of caravan halflings, I thought perhaps they really were as poor as they professed to be."

"I'm not being paid a single coin." She replied automatically. Not a lie, but she surprised herself in the act of replying to his barb. Accusations she'd been holding in since she first heard of his plot bubbled to the surface. "But that didn't matter at all to you, did it? You were going to kill all these people no matter what; for no good reason."

"Power is always a good reason." The King rushed in to lock blades with her again and this time, when she tried to push him back, he countered with equal strength, then greater, driving her back instead. "And I offer a correction: I am in the _process_ of killing them all. Even if you stall me, I've brought only my best to exterminate the village _and_ their halfling 'saviors' now that my irregulars have worn them down."

Taylin glanced upward for a fraction of a second and then gave in to the feeling she was getting through the link, allowing it to twist her mouth into an uncharacteristic lupine grin. "You think so?" The appreciation of the irony was entirely her own.

Something dropped from the sky into the midst of the bandit elite force. It was larger than even an ogre and its shape was most akin to a badger with a blunted muzzle. Gray-brown fur covered several tons of muscle, but did nothing to hide the massive, curved claws on its forepaws.

Its incredible weight crushed one man flat on impact before the creature rose up on its hind legs and really set to work. Claws meant for stripping bark from the largest of trees splintered tower shields as if they were made of matchsticks and went on to tear the arms that held them from their bodies. Four of the King of Flame and Steel's best were dead or completely out of the fight in an instant.

In the next, Bromun and a detachment of hunters arrived from the rear with their wolves and bullets began to hammer into armor and shields from an adjacent rooftop. The opposing force was small, but with Ru's destabilizing presence at the center of the enemy, they were fighting groups of three of four instead of a massed shield wall backed with polearms.

The King set his jaw. "The battle isn't over." This time, he didn't go into the dramatic flourish that conjured the wheel of flames. Instead, he merely pointed the tip of it at Ru's hulking form and let loose a narrow, but concentrated column of fire. It raked the mage's furry shoulders and elicited an agonized bellow.

Taylin faltered at the sound and the flurry of emotions in the link. Pain didn't translate to the master end of the link, but the associated burst of confusion, anger and desperate bargaining for that pain to end came through with perfect clarity.

Ru? How badly are you hurt?

She didn't have time to parse the string of ancient oaths and curses that cascaded into her mind before the King charged her again and drove her back. She almost stumbled and fell, which would have been fatal. Just as fatal as the jaws of the spider as its handler drove it forward from behind her.

Taylin danced to the side and ducked beneath the creature's first legs, putting it between her and the King while earning valuable breathing space. It had been a while since she'd been matched strength for strength in singular combat. Even her old masters had given up attempting to handle her in singular situations, save the blessed fool whose mistake led to her freedom.

She was not, however, the equal of a two ton arachnid, which proved a problem as the huge thing wheeled around at its handler's behest. The 'decoy' mage still astride it muttered an incantation and gestured toward her.

The mystery of if he was really a wizard or not went with him to the grave as Ru, in his normal form, appeared between him and the spider's handler and split his rib cage open with his scythe. On the return stroke, he clouted the handler in the head with the butt of the weapon, pitching him off.

Ru didn't even glance at Taylin as he put his hand to the spider's head and muttered to himself "Let's see how much of a mind you have..." Whatever the answer, the monstrous creature suddenly veered past Taylin and skittered toward the battle behind her, jaws seeking the men who once rode behind it.

Taylin's view was cleared just in time for her to see the King of Flame and Steel let loose yet another hell-storm. This one aimed at the village's barn.

The barn where the children were being concealed.

She held her breath, fighting the feeling of helplessness as it hit the roof of the building and exploded, instantly engulfing the entire roof in flames. The rage began to boil over. The itching on her arms and back returned.

"There are children in there!" She screamed.

A serpent-swift blow struck the sword from her hand. "So my scouts said." sneered the King, raising his sword for a death blow.

Steel struck flesh, but with a hollow, solid sound instead of a wet thump. Now was the King's turn to widen his eyes in shock. A hand had caught his blade, and though it bled, it held tight, despite the helix of flames engulfing it. Orange-red scales covered that hand, which was tipped with three-inch, black claws.

"You." The word was a hiss and a growl in one and when the King met his opponent's eyes, he saw the green irises constrict around the pupil until it became a catlike slit.

Taylin tore the Eastern Brand from his grip with casual ease. It tumbled away in the dust, its flames guttering out. They were no longer strength for strength, and she was no longer ignoring the echoing roar of her anger.

Her first clawed swipe, the King dodged only with luck. They came heart-stoppingly close to tearing out his eyes. Then he threw himself back from her as two more desperate swipes came at his ribs and throat. He tapped the source of his strength, visualizing the pattern of it, and shifted _ere-a_ and _vin_ subtly, just as he'd been taught. Suddenly, a portion of his strength became celerity and he found himself having an easier time dancing away from Taylin's murderous claws.

Using that time wisely, he reached into the only other power source he knew: That finite well within every mortal from which they summoned the strength to press on through pain and fatigue. The King was one of those born with a naturally more expansive reserve and with training and some external help, possessed a respectable reservoir suitable for using in spellwork without driving himself into a coma.

With no time for a complex pattern, he opted for simple, but effective. He formed tension, once again with _ere-a_ and _vin_ , aimed it directly away, and released.

A bolt of force caught Taylin squarely in the chest and hurled her back. She rolled seemingly endlessly in the dust until she finally came to rest on her back with dizziness in her head and a new soreness in her chest. All around her, she heard the sounds of battle and, glancing aside, caught a glimpse of the rogue spider stampeding through the battle with a man dangling in its jaws by his head.

And then there were the shouts of a fire crew trying to put the barn out, or at least get the children to safety. From the urgency of the cries, it didn't sound like they were doing well.

Closer than either the fire, or the battle, there was a sound of metal scraping the bare ground not far from her. She turned to see the King of Flame and Steel lifting the hilt of her sword on his boot, before flipping it neatly into his hand like a carnival trick.

Thus armed, he approached her with grim satisfaction in his eyes. "Even that last little trick was useless and predictable." He mocked. "This village is going to die. And I'm sending you along into the Well of Souls ahead of them so you can greet them as they arrive; one by one."

Another hissing growl emerged from her. She hated this man more than almost anyone she'd ever met. He was a vile, terrible thing and she would not let someone like him be the end of her. Not now that she was free and certainly not if it meant that he would go on to kill the Clan of the Winter Willow or the people they'd risked their lives to protect. Even unarmed, she'd find a way to survive, or at least buy time for someone to put a blade or a bullet in him.

When the killing blow came, she rolled to the side, allowing it to chop crudely into the dust where she'd previously lain. And she didn't stop there; as the King moved to strike again, she rocked her shoulders and hips and kept moving. Twice more, the razor sword cut only dust and earth instead of the flesh it sought.

Then something hard and painful jabbed into the small of her back, completely breaking her momentum. She warded off the next blow with her arm. Her scales saved her from having her muscles severed, but this time the King had leverage, and the magically honed steel laid the back of her arm open from elbow to mid-wrist.

Pain blossomed, and through the haze, time seemed to stretch and distort. Taylin's mind wandered, and in wandering, she suddenly realized what it was that jabbed her in the back. The Eastern Brand.

Again living up to her name, she took stock of what she had and what she needed to do to make use of it. Before the King could take his next swing, she pushed off the ground with all her might and put her strength behind a hard kick to his solar plexus. By then, he had time to put himself back to full strength, but it was still unexpected enough to send him back a few staggering steps.

It was all she required. One more time, she rolled over, arching her back to give her room to grab the King's sword as she did. By the time he recovered, she was on her knees, raising the sword in a solid block against his overhand swing. With his leverage and her strength, mitigated as it was by her injury, they were, for a moment matched.

Then Taylin grinned at him again. The same smile she offered Ru in the cavern just before she managed to find a way out without giving an order, except this time, there was no mirth or playful cleverness in it. There was, instead, a clear declaration that she knew exactly when and how he was going to die.

"Ignite."

The twin tongues of flame once more raced along the length of Dóttir Logi, the Eastern Brand. But more importantly, it spat its cascade of sparks at the point of contact with other metal. The sparks didn't ignite the King's expensive leathers, but all they had to do was take him off his guard for a second.

They did, and in that second, Taylin forced both swords up and out of the way with one arm. And with her good arm, she drove five black talons into his chest. Four punctured his lungs. Her thumb speared his heart.

The King of Flame and Steel grunted, groaned, and heaved pink froth up from his lungs. He was already dead, he just didn't comprehend it yet.

Taylin pushed to her feet and in doing so threw him down on his back, sheathing the still-burning Eastern Brand in its former wielder's body and three inches into the earth beneath him. Then, without another thought toward him, she turned and ran for the barn, which was still in flames.

***

Smoke and flame filled the large space of the barn just as much as the shouts of the fire crews and the screams of panicked animals.

As if by some sick joke, the human villagers were rushing about, trying to shoo out what little livestock they had, while the halfling guards assigned to the barn were left to try and pull the creche wagon to safety.

It was difficult going, as fallen spars from the roof littered the floor and fouled the wagon wheels. One of the guards already had a broken hand from where he rushed to clear debris from ahead of the wheels, only to have them roll over his hand in the process.

Broken hand or not, every member of the clan knew that their children were worth more than their own lives. It was the way of the _nir-lumos_. So he continued clearing, only with his good hand this time and a bit more cautiously than before.

Into this chaos charged Taylin. The death of the King of Flame and Steel had sated her rage, and this reflected in the fact that by the time she entered the barn, the scales and talons had once again receded. Her shoulder and arm still oozed blood though, and the smoke irritated those wounds as badly as it stung her eyes and lungs.

"Yarate! Yara!" She shouted as she made her way past mounds of burning hay and around scurrying villagers with pails of water and zero hope at containing the blaze. She didn't even recognize that she was no longer speaking a language anyone around her understood. The only thing on her mind was that she was _not_ going to allow any of those children to suffer or die because she didn't finish with the King in time.

She reached the wagon and instantly saw the problem; even four _nir-lumos_ working together to try and pull a wagon simply didn't have the leverage to get it over bumps as big as the fallen spars and farm implements at any reasonable speed and of the four guards, only two were actually pulling.

The ceiling groaned ominously above and she decided that now was not the time for politeness. Stepping into the traces, she simply reached down and lifted the pair trying to pull the wagon out of the way. This, of course invited them to hurl curses at her in their own language. One even drew his kurki before they both saw her reach down and loop the leads around both her wounded and good arms.

The moment they understood, the curses became encouragement and both men and the guard with the broken hand hurried around to the back in order to help by pushing.

The five combined got the creche wagon, with its precious cargo rolling at speed, thudding freely over the broken planks and tool handles on its way to the wide open doors of the barn. But before it got there, one of the main beams gave way, and the multi-ton timber came crashing down toward the wagon and its entourage.

# Chapter 10 – Recovery

The timber gave out with a groan, punctuated by pronounced cracks as it came crashing down from the roof, trailing a curtain of smoke and flame with it. Preceding it was a shower of cinders that stung the wagon guards wherever their skin was exposed. They did little more than make Taylin blink as a few fell in her face, or tumbled out of her hair.

But the collapsing beam would do more than sting or burn. It's weight could easily crush them, wagon and all.

As Taylin watched, trying to will herself to pull hard, faster, and get the wagon out of the way, she suddenly wished she hadn't left the Eastern Brand in the King of Flame and Steel's body. The wheel of flames it cast could probably have torn the falling wood asunder.

Something painful hit her an instant later, like a white hot lance that drove itself through both eardrums and into her brain. Only after it had passed did she realize it was sound; pure, intense sound at a pitch and volume she never wished to ever hear again.

And she wasn't the focus of the assault. The air above seemed to ripple in tune with the ear-splitting tone and to her amazement, so did the falling timber; for a split second at any rate. In the following second, it twisted impossibly and flew apart in an explosion of blazing embers. The sonic burst continued on, tearing apart another burning section of the roof in a similar fashion before finally dissipating.

Throughout, Taylin never stopped pulling, never focused on anything else, even as the pain in her head made her vision go blank. When she was finally in possession of her senses, she was nearly outside.

Ahead of her, she saw Kaiel, a red stain marring his right thigh and a line of dried blood on the side of his head. The flute was no longer blazing with the fell-light bow's flames, but at his lips as he'd just finished playing.

Only then did she make the connection and realize exactly what had happened in the barn: Kaiel had destroyed the timber with a pressure wave of pure sound. The battle-choirs of the hailene could perform similar feats with their voices, but Taylin had never been so near the receiving end before.

Breathing hard from what felt like hours of exertion, she continued on, hauling the wagon until she came up even with Kaiel. She had no excuse not to; her kind was bred to fight until literally torn apart. Her wounds were nothing compared to what she'd received over her lifetime. Something in her head still roared and demanded to wade back into the fray.

But something else told her that her part was over. The children were safe, the King was dead, and without a leader, or his nightmare vision, his army's resolve wouldn't last.

Maybe it was the highly inappropriate reassurance she got from sensing Ru's mood changing from raging blood lust to smug superiority. Maybe it was the fact that the sounds of battle moving farther away. Or maybe it was just that she'd lost more blood than she thought.

No matter the reason, she stopped fighting the urge to sit down. She did so simply by letting her legs fold up beneath her. There was a sharp bruising pain thereafter, probably banging her good arm on the wagon's dashboard. She leaned against it, half-listening to Kaiel's exclamation at her action, or his efforts to rouse her.

Then Grandmother was there. She told Kaiel something about how Grandfather needed him to look at the King's body and how she would see to 'the child'.

Had one of the children been injured? Was it her fault?

In Taylin's impaired state, it seemed as if Grandmother teleported much like Ru did; now standing by the wagon, now in the traces leaning over her. A small hand gently touched her nearly-flayed arm and the shuddering ecstasy of strong healing magic made her eyes roll back in her head. It was too much for her mind after everything else, and she was thankful that just before the world faded, she heard Grandmother order her to sleep.

***

She didn't remember waking up; that first moment of awareness after sleep. Instead, she found herself lying on her side, having a staring contest with an ancient gray tomcat.

That morning, she hadn't really taken time to look, but it struck her that with an apparently infinite repertoire of forms, Ru chose a particularly battle-damaged specimen for his preferred feline form. Its fur was streaked with light patches; old scars from dozens of fights over territory or mates, and one ear was notched in no less than five places. There was also a slight bald spot over one eye, a more severe scar, and that eye would have likely been rheumy if Ru kept with a perfect impersonation of the original animal.

Instead, the cat's eyes were the same yellow as his own; a yellow that could never be mistaken, even poetically for gold. They were the eyes of a wolf, or great hunting bird.

He didn't move at all, just stared and conveyed boredom and impatience on top of a searing ache.

Measure by measure, Taylin took in the rest of the scene. Ru was curled up in a nest of what seemed to be blood colored silk, atop some sort of wooden pedestal. She focused a bit more and realized it wasn't a pedestal, but a chest of drawers. Where did a chest come from? She'd only seen those in passing during raids, or when it was part of her job to move a hailene officer's personal effects from ship to shore.

The rest of the room slowly came into focus. From her vantage, she could see shelves built into the wooden walls behind the chest, and a door to one side of it. Directly in front of her, near her head, there was a low wooden footlocker with a pair of leather bound books, an ink pot, a nib of charcoal and a quill casually strewn on the lid.

Noticing the height of the chest made her realize that she wasn't on the floor. In fact, she lay atop probably the softest thing she'd ever lain on. The beds the masters kept, even the cots they kept in their offices and laboratories always looked so comfortable; could this be one of them?

_I'm not certain if you've regained your senses or not when you ask questions like that._ Ru sent with the hint of a laugh at her expense. _'Is this bed I'm lying on a bed?'. Truly philosophical._

_Ru?_ She asked, not helping her case in the least. _You're hurt. Why can I feel it now when I couldn't feel when you were stabbed, or hurt by that 'rifle'?_

_Those hurts could be remedied by shapeshifting_. He replied. _But damaging magic can cause lasting damage to me, even if the link makes it impossible to completely destroy me._

But why does it still hurt?

The cat rolled his eyes. _It doesn't impair me, it only hurts. No need to waste energy on a healing spell._

But you're hurt.

And?

Please just heal yourself.

The cat growled a little and glared. That was all the indication she had that he was complying before the representation of ache in the back of her mind faded.

A moment later, the door opened and Kaiel stepped in. He wore a gray jacket with ivory buttons, which hung open, revealing that he was shirtless beneath. Several layers of bandages were wrapped around his midsection and several more were wrapped around his wrists. His trousers were the same as he wore that morning.

"Oh. You're awake." He said with a tired smile. "Feeling better?"

Taylin instinctively took stock of her injuries. Nothing seemed to be bleeding anymore, though there was a bandage tied around her shoulder. The open gash on her arm was gone entirely. So she nodded.

"Good. Grandmother said that you might need more attention if you slept all the way until nightfall. There's really no telling how much blood you lost." Kaiel walked past the chest and drawers and Taylin followed him with her eyes to an area of the room she hadn't seen before; it held a table with a metal bowl and pitcher atop it and the bowls, cups and plates he'd brought out the night before underneath.

He took up a cup and filled it with water from the pitcher before passing it to her. "Drink. You're going to need to eat and drink a lot to get back what you lost today." Taylin sat up in a wobbly fashion to accept it, and once she had her cup in hand, he repeated the process with another.

"So do I, actually." He lifted his cup to offer a toast, something Taylin knew nothing about. After a second of awkward staring, he toasted himself and took a long drink anyway. "She wants to speak with you as soon as you're well enough to walk on your own." his gaze flicked to Ru, then did a double take. "Is that..."

"Mine." The cat said in a deep, cross voice that no small mammal should ever achieve. "Keep what you kill."

"The adjudicators make sure everyone gets what they're earned." Kaiel said, but his tone demonstrated that he realized the futility of discussing it with Ru. He turned back to Taylin. "I've already mentioned it to him, but you should probably know too."

She still didn't feel like talking, so she merely nodded.

"That bandit king... after the battle, the adjudicators and corpse crews were reclaiming his armor and weapon; checking to see what else of value he had—which is now yours, by the by—and they found something..."

"Heh." Ru resumed his normal form, winding up sitting cross-legged atop the chest of drawers. Somehow, in the process of shifting, he also donned the shirt. With his robes, Taylin couldn't tell, but with the silk draped over it, she could see that his frame was slight, almost emaciated. Idly, she wondered if that as a choice like the scarred cat or if it was his true appearance.

He didn't pick up on those thoughts, but the link echoed with his amusement at something, which he soon gave voice to. "As it turns out, you've brought shame upon generations of swordswomen. Imagine, coming that close to being bested by a hedge wizard like this so called King."

Kaiel shot a disapproving glance at the mage. "There are any number of accomplished mystic sword schools. The College teaches several styles itself."

"And this 'king' knew not a one." Ru replied with a smirk. "You saw him when he fought Miss Taylin: all brute force and spell-worked speed. He was as much a swordsman as I am."

The chronicler turned away from him and back to Taylin. "In any event, the real issue is the source of his power. When they pulled the Eastern Brand out of him, the adjudicators noticed a tattoo on his back; a nine pointed star atop a downward facing triangle with script in the ancient imperial language at the points. It's the symbol of a demon."

"Immurai the Masked." Ru interjected.

Kaiel nodded. "He's well known in the circles that actively oppose his master's worshipers: the Church of the Threefold Moon. And his mark is the way that he grants power to his followers. My guess is that the King's activities in this part of the world were on his behalf. It's entirely possible that this village wasn't just an example, but a sacrifice to Immurai."

Taylin stared at him for a long moment before speaking for the first time since waking up. "And we stopped him?" Her voice was small and raspy.

"That we did." Kaiel said with a gentle smile. He took her now empty cup and refilled it before placing it back in her hands.

"Good." She said, looking at her dim reflection in the water. It wasn't bad for her first twenty-four hours of freedom.

"Good doesn't cover it from the clan's point of view." Kaiel said, clearing a space on one of the tables so he could sit. "Not only did you save the creche wagon in the barn, but half the clan saw you leap in front of that fireball for Raiteria. To say they're impressed with your sacrifice is an understatement."

She made a face and sipped her water. The cold liquid cleared away some of the roughness in her throat and let her voice grow stronger. "That wasn't a sacrifice; I can't burn."

Kaiel quirked an eyebrow at this and she knew she'd given something else valuable away. Slowly, he continued on topic. "Whether you can or not, the clan saw it as you taking pain that would have been hers and saving her life. On top of saving the creche wagon, you've demonstrated the highest values of the _nir-lumos_."

Taylin dared to hope. Her eyes brightened and she found herself sitting up straighter. It was as if all her lingering fatigue and weakness had fled her. "Does this mean Grandmother really will give me back my wings?"

The chronicler smiled and gave a half laugh. "Taylin, she was already going to do that. She promised you that just for fighting beside the clan." He got up and went to the shelf beside Ru. From it, he took a band of crocheted material. It was an arm band of sorts, mostly white, but at the center was a teal square with three downward pointing triangles on it; two below, one above.

He let her look at it, trace the shapes with a finger, but he never relinquished it.

"You have to understand something about the _nir-lumos_ : Their family structure has very little to do with blood. Every child born here will know Grandmother and Grandfather as just that, regardless of if their parents were originally members or not. Their brothers and sisters are the children of whatever generation they're born into and every other _nir-lumos_ on the face of the planet is their cousin."

Kaiel took the band back and studied it fondly. "Family to them is about the key emotions: love, kinship, and the will to protect even at risk to your own health. To protect family is to be family and they do not care if you have blood relations here, or even if you're a halfling."

Taylin's eyes were fixed on the band and her voice was muted when she spoke. "That has something to do with being family then?"

"Aye. This is a kinship badge for the Clan of the Winter Willow. Every clan has their own style, but the purpose is the same: marking out tall folk who have been accepted as family; part of the clan. This one marks me as Bromun's brother. I saved him from under a wagon that rolled during a landslide a few weeks after I started traveling with them as a paying guest." He replaced the band on the shelf with some reverence.

"If you accept, yours would look much the same; blue instead of white at the band, as you'd likely be adopted as Raiteria's sister for saving her. If Grandmother holds you in extreme regard or trust, she might make you an aunt to the children you saved as well."

Sudden awkwardness settled in the wagon. Taylin was trying to process the implicit offer she'd just received. She called her fellow ang'hailene brothers and sisters, but they weren't. Some were better than others, but it was usually the most insular and brutish that survived. Everyone that she'd ever formed a bond with was dead within two years. True, she didn't know what being adopted by the clan entailed, but still, it was a shot at belonging somewhere, with people who didn't see her as a slave or weapon.

But that wasn't what made Kaiel seem so awkward. He hemmed and hawed a bit more before finally giving his concerns voice.

"About that trust, Taylin..." She was startled out of her thoughts by the words. The expression on his face wasn't helping. "... there are some things that concern me, and Grandmother trusts me enough that my concerns make her concerned as well."

Taylin sighed a tiny breath as her hopes of family and kinship evaporated.

The chronicler gave her a sympathetic look, but it didn't stop him from continuing. "It isn't any one single thing, but the accumulation of them. You appear on a beach via telegate, knowing nothing of the region or the world in general. You've suffered a punishment that hasn't been used in human memory. Both of you speak with accents I've never encountered. And in the barn, I distinctly heard you say 'yarate', a word I only know from reading personal accounts from the early Age of Tragedies and earlier.

"Taylin, I'm sorry. I know that Grandmother said that she didn't want your secrets, but I can't just ignore the strangeness of your story. I'm afraid I need at least some answers."

She couldn't force herself to meet his gaze. In looking at anything but him, she noticed that she was dressed in the cloths she was wearing the day before, only now they were clean and mended to the point that they seemed new. "The truth will sound impossible. You'll think me mad."

"Part of a loreman's duty is to make the impossible less so. If anyone is inclined to accept what you have to say, it's me; I need to get used to it if I'm ever to become a loreman."

Taylin still refused to look at him, paralyzed by nerves and fear. No matter what he said about divining truth, she was sure he'd call her a liar. And if he felt that way, the clan would agree and she would be cast out. Alone, except for Ru, who was eternally frustrated with her as it was.

Almost as if her thoughts prompted him, Ru made a rude noise in his throat. "Pointless." He scoffed. "What does it matter if the chronicler knows or not? What can he do about it? Why would he want to or even care?" When the link didn't try and stop him, he looked Kaiel squarely in the eye.

"Nearly four hundred years ago, Miss Taylin found me and struck the bargain that binds me to her. Her first conscious request of me was to sleep a thousand years, so that she might not be forced to live through the remainder of the War of Ascension. But shortly thereafter, the war was ended by this goddess you mentioned: Dey. Shielding against her wrath weakened me considerably; which is why Miss Taylin awoke in this time and in this place rather than six hundred years hence, accounting for every inconsistency you've observed."

Taylin's head snapped up, staring at him in horror.

But Kaiel only knitted his brow in interest. "You're telling the truth."

"If I wished to lie, I'm certain I could fool whatever freakish sense you possess, but indeed I am." Ru shot back, pathologically incapable of omitting the barb.

For once, Kaiel let it slip, partly because the mage had at least referred to him as a chronicler instead of a charlatan. Instead, he focused on Taylin, offering her a smile as gentle as the one he gave earlier. "You're probably right not to tell anyone that. A chronomantic spell, or even the mathematical principles behind creating and maintaining stasis for that long would be something many mages would do battle over."

"It would if I used chronomancy." Ru muttered.

Kaiel turned a raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'll explain it if you first explain what in all blazes you were using on the battlefield." the mage shot back.

Not eager in the least to sit through another of their verbal jousts, Taylin finally found her voice again and stepped in. "Was that good enough Kaiel? To settle your worries I mean. I didn't mean to give the clan doubts about me, but I also... I didn't want them to think there was something wrong with me."

Kaiel laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away from it and he withdrew, tactfully avoiding drawing attention to it. "I'll let Grandmother know that my concerns are laid to rest. Does this mean you're considering accepting the kinship badge?"

She nodded and very slowly, a playful smile appeared on her face. "If you are Bromun's brother and I Raiteria's sister, does this make us siblings as well?"

The chronicler chuckled lightly and rocked back on his heels. "I suppose it does."

Ru made another rude sound and Taylin shot him a glare as his thoughts came across in the link. Without thinking, she said, "Ru! Please. He's not like that."

Kaiel gave Ru a surprisingly neutral look. "Continuing your crude innuendo, hedge wizard?"

The mage growled at the insult. "Only drawing conclusions from what I know of you, charlatan."

"Contrary to the beliefs of the ignorant, the escapades of loremen, bards, minstrels and chroniclers read in dime novels is patiently false" Kaiel defended. "The profession and the power simply lend themselves well to... romantic ideas in the minds of writers."

"Writers who, by and large, are other loremen, bards, minstrels and chroniclers." Ru guessed. The thin volumes filled with adventurous and amorous tales had only appeared in Chordin some fifty years earlier and their widespread distribution had only picked up in the last decade, making it impossible for he or Taylin to know what Kaiel was talking about.

Guess or not, he was correct; the majority of dime novel authors were students at the College dashing them off and passing them on to the cottage industry of printers in Harpsfell to pay for their expensive wine and baths. Three of them had Kaiel's own name on them, though they were just true accounts of his explorations of the world, had very little in the way of romance, massacres, or ancient conspiracies, and thus sold only enough to buy cheap ale and a spellworked pitcher that heated or cooled water.

He sputtered for a moment, then folded his arms. "Be that as it may, they're largely fiction. We're all just folk with the same variance in proclivities as the general population. I for one, and many like me, are not inclined to simply fling ourselves into bed with everyone we meet."

Ru smirked at the perfect opening. "And yet, here we sit; in your wagon. And she is in your bed."

Scarcely did he sense the horror and embarrassment from Taylin before the pain hit him. It started as a twinge of mild discomfort in the small of his back, but swiftly radiated like forks of lightning up his spine and from there, it cramped every muscle, strained every tendon.

There was no mitigating it, no getting used to it, ever. No matter how many times he felt it, he was simply unable to push past the blazing agony within him, nor use any known mental exercise to redirect it. It was constructed that way; different each time, and always so intense that he could barely think when it occurred. With a strangled gasp he couldn't repress, he pitched off the chest of drawers and landed on his hands and knees on the floor, forehead pressing against the cool boards.

"Ru!" Taylin was off the bed almost instantly. Even with her strength diminished, she had no trouble pulling him into a sitting position. "Are you alright?"

"What happened to him?" Kaiel asked, more curious than concerned. He moved over to observe.

"I don't know. Even the link feels scrambled." She said. "I think that hurt him even more than being burned did." As she spoke, she probed the link, wishing she knew a little more about how it worked so she could help him. There were no emotions coming from him, only the cold, hard feeling she got when she issued an order, only this one didn't move; it sat cold and heavy in the back of her mind.

She touched it mentally, trying to make it move the way the others did. After several tries, it did, and suddenly she felt confusion and frustration. Ru.

Growling softly, he shrugged off the arm she'd put around him to keep him sitting upright. His eyes remained closed as he recollected his thoughts. "It seems that the link considers such remarks to be a type of harm to your person." He said, making it clear that this sort of thing hadn't happened before. "Bad enough that it warranted punishment."

"It was the link?" Taylin asked in a frightened voice. Somehow, that made it her fault. "Ru, I'm so sorry."

He scoffed. "Unless you are far older than you seem and an astoundingly impressive actress, you are not the architect of this dread machine, Miss Taylin." With that said, he rose back into a hovering position and make quick eye contact with Kaiel, daring him to ask about what just happened.

The chronicler swallowed his curiosity for the moment.

All three were silent, the tension and mystery in the wagon's single room unbearable.

"I think that I'm strong enough to see Grandmother now." Taylin said at last. She still felt guilty of what happened to Ru, but he made it clear he would tolerate no more apologies, nor even mention of it.

For a moment, she thought that maybe it was for her benefit; more false loyalty forced on him from the link. But in two short days, she's come to understand a few things about the man and knew that it was more simple and selfish than that. He was embarrassed at having a weakness revealed. It was a small thing, but she decided not to add to it by bringing it up again.

"Are you sure?" Asked Kaiel. "She'll understand if you took a few days to rest and recuperate."

The very concept of taking a few days for recuperation was an alien one to Taylin. Slave soldiers who were too damaged to be back at work after a single use of a combat healing spell (or two for the kindest of captains) were, at best, left behind. At worst they were thrown overboard while the ship was at cruising altitude. Rest was for officers and possibly the enlisted, never for ang'hailene.

"I've walked miles with worse." She assured him in a quiet voice.

It was difficult to believe that this was the same young woman who, mere hours before, had driven a sword through a dying man and pinned his corpse to the earth before going on to pull a wagon that normally required two ponies to draw it.

Kaiel schooled his expression as Ru's 'religious' poem about Death played in his head. "As long as you're feeling up to it." He finally said and led the way out the door.

# Chapter 11 – Sisters, Brothers

There were only a few hours left of sunlight when Taylin, Ru and Kaiel exited the wagon and it was instantly clear that the clan wasn't going to allow any remaining daylight to go to waste.

It seemed that every able-bodied individual had been mobilized. As they walked through the village, Kaiel explained how everyone in the clan, from children only just able to walk, to those even more elderly than Grandmother and Grandfather, had a specific role in their day to day lives, especially after a battle.

The hunters, who doubled as the clan's warriors, became corpse crews once the fighting was over; gathering the dead of both sides and preparing the clan's casualties for funeral rites. They worked side by side with the adjudicators: mostly older, but not elderly females, who during the battle had functioned as lookouts.

At the same time that they were serving as lookouts, Kaiel revealed, the adjudicators also kept a meticulous tally of who killed whom. This not only ensured that warriors received what they had earned, but also that swift execution was doled out to any prisoners who took the life of a clan member.

Ahead of those two groups worked the healers. Only five of their number boasted any magical capability at all, but all of them had learned at least the bare minimum of field surgery. Those without magic did triage and patched up those who could be saved with mundane means, while dropping squares of red cloth across the chests of those whose survival depended on supernatural intervention.

With surprising reverence, the tinkers stripped the enemy corpses of valuables and set about cleaning and repairing what items needed it to be acceptable for resale at the next city. For most of the halflings, keeping what they killed only meant that it was added to their wares for trade. All _nir-lumos_ , Kaiel told them, learned bits and pieces of craft work as they grew up After all, they earned their money in trade, but the tinkers were the elderly, who, by the time their age showed, were masters in one or more crafts. The children learned at their feet by doing.

Still others, named as wagon masters by Kaiel, were busy directing pony teams in dragging the bodies of slain horses to the outskirts of town for butchery. Part of the meat would be salted for the clan, part left for the village. Taylin was fond of her 'waste not, want not', adage, but felt more than a little bemused at the fact that she'd been trying to minimize the horse casualties.

As they entered the town center, Taylin noticed something directly that she realized she'd seen during the entire walk: some of the wagon masters were diligently working to drape wetted down canvas in haphazard arrangements across some of the wagons that had been nearest the most contested gaps along the line.

"Kaiel?" She finally asked, indicating a pair of halfling women wrestling one such canvas into place, "What are they doing?"

The chronicler chuckled slightly. "Oh, that? They're tending their wagons' wounds."

Ru gave him a withering look, but Taylin only nodded. "I didn't think that could be done without magic."

"Are you both bereft of what little exists of your wits?" Ru spat. "You cannot heal a wagon. It is not a living thing. At best, the attempt would only foster mold and rot in the wood."

"Correct." Kaiel conceded, only serving to make Ru even more flustered. He let the mage grind his teeth a bit before taking pity upon him. "Unless you've' built them of gretharian."

Taylin nodded. "The masters... the hailene built their ships out of it. Actually, it was more like they grew their ships out of it. They had very powerful wizards who tended the ship groves and made sure the gretharians grew into the shapes they wanted."

"Simply put," Kaiel, Ru was certain, was being condescending on purpose, "There are places on Ere where the ambient _vitae_ ; the same kind you concentrate to create a healing spell, builds up like dammed water and has miraculous effects on anything that lives or grows in the area: namely the gretharian tree. A tree, if properly cared for, is immortal, even if sawed into planks and bent into wheels. If it gets damaged, you need only keep the area properly watered until it heals."

Ru nodded and fell silent. He hadn't learned much of this new world, the one they called Ere. Before he was bound to the link, the world was called Chai'Tel. There had been no hailene; only halflings, the forest folk, and the so called savage races: ogres, goblins, orcs and assorted beastmen. None of them ever traded with one another, much less came to their aid.

Of one hundred and seven masters before Taylin, he had only been commanded by twenty in the years following whatever unfathomable cataclysm resulted in him becoming dormant in a mountain valley on the continent of Raefon and being discovered on a desert island in the far south. Ere had only the single, nameless super-continent, split in half by an inland sea and he'd never been given the time or opportunity to learn much else about it beyond who wanted who to die horribly.

This new bit of knowledge, however, intrigued him. Not so much the immortal trees, but the idea that ambient magical energies on Ere were not uniform at all points. If there were places with concentrations of life-giving energies so high that they altered the local flora, did that mean there were also places where the elemental energies such as _flaer_ or _vin_ did the same? Possibly even the basic building block of abstract magical structures: _vox_? That was valuable information indeed.

Taylin glanced over at him as his mood shifted from annoyance to calculating and eager, but he ignored her as they continued walking.

Soon enough, they reached the end of the meager community garden where the large, white wagons were situated. One, the one not adorned with the vine motif, was covered with wet canvas that still didn't completely hide the burn marks. Taylin realized with at start that it was the creche wagon; the very same one she'd rescued earlier in the day. In hindsight, it made perfect sense that it was in the center of the circle of wagons, next to what she now took to be Grandmother and Grandfather's wagon.

She took it to be so because a small coalition of halflings and humans were rushing to and from a hastily constructed shelter consisting of a bed sheet strung from the side of the vine-covered wagon to two poles. Beneath it, Grandmother sat on the step leading up to the open door, carefully sipping from a wooden bowl of water.

Grandfather stood nearby to deliver a tongue-lashing to anyone who came along wasting her time. Taylin could see why: the halfling matriarch looked tired. Not just tired, but visibly diminished, and drained of the warmth of life. It was the first time she'd ever seen a halfling look _old_.

Among the petitioners were the two village elders from the night before, Partha and the other, whose name Taylin didn't recall. When they saw her, they didn't bother hiding their stares or quiet whispers to one another. She heard the word 'hailene' in there and quickly tuned them out. She didn't want to think about that at all, especially not right then.

The halflings all gave either smiles, or nods of greeting. Word had gotten around about what happened in the center of town. The smiles were from parents, spared their worst nightmare becoming fact.

As for the villagers, they gave the group a wide berth and the direction of their fearful glances clued her in as to exactly who the source of that fear was. The burst of pride and smugness in the back of her mind helped.

"What did he do?" Taylin asked Kaiel quietly as they stood to one side and waited for Grandmother's attention.

"He was particularly tactless in satisfying his curiosity over the Eastern Brand." Kaiel groaned.

"It was an insult to a work of art to swing that blade with the intent to cut." Ru sniffed. "It isn't a sword at all; it's a _flaer_ amplifier, capable of increasing the potency of any fire-dominant spell tenfold. That this bandit king didn't simply incinerate the entire town at range speaks to how poor a wizard he was."

Now it was Kaiel's turn to grind his teeth. "None of that explains why you felt it prudent to channel a few fireballs through it at random. Blood to ice, Ru, these people just got done putting out fires that almost annihilated their homes. What is wrong with you?"

"Unless they build their homes in the sky, they were never in any danger." said Ru, folding his arms.

"Ru..." Taylin chided, but had no idea how to finish that sentence. As far as she could tell, directing his dangerous spells into the air _was_ restraint for him. Instead, she turned to Kaiel. "Where is the Eastern Brand now?"

"The halfling matriarch ordered it taken from me." Ru growled, a certain despondency pairing with anger in the link.

"It isn't yours anyhow." said Kaiel, "It belongs to Taylin."

"So you said." She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Surely, the King had to die. He hadn't left her any other choice, but taking his things seemed ghoulish. On the other hand, it was, contrary to Ru's assessment, a very nice sword. It was finely balanced, and with her strength and experience, a better one handed weapon than the once-broken sword. That she was immune to its sparks and flames added to the utility it could see in her hands.

She was still ruminating when she heard her name being called. Looking up, she saw that Grandmother was done with the petitioners ahead of them. Kaiel cleared he throat politely to get her moving.

"I'm very sorry about that." She started, but Grandmother cut her off.

"Sit."

It wasn't a harsh command like before, but it was the command of a woman who was that frightful combination of tired and busy; one who knew that the work was not yet done and was not about to let any time be lost on frippery.

Taylin dropped into her customary crouch without thinking, but this time it seemed to be good enough for Grandmother.

The elderly halfling took another swallow from her bowl. A tangy scent hit Taylin's nose, telling her that it was laced with some sort of unfamiliar herb. When she was done, she leaned forward to peer at the much larger woman before her.

Slowly, as if it were being carved into the granite of her normal expression, a satisfied smile came to Grandmother's features. "You've appointed yourself well, girl. You and your companion," She didn't even bother looking at Ru, "...accounted for a third of the bandit casualties by yourselves. In killing the lieutenant, who dealt just as heavy a blow to the clan, you avenged Agaeteria, and Winsomas, plus four of our wolves. In killing the King of Flame and Steel, you avenged Naipolmun. I know you did not know this, but it matters to the clan, vengeance does."

The smile faded a bit in reverence for the departed. All told, fourteen of their people had died and a score of wolves. Many more would have followed them if she hadn't called upon every last ounce of her strength to channel Sylph's healing. Even then, two others from the wagon the King destroyed might yet succumb to their hideous burns. Those casualties, plus the three dozen wounded, accounted for the largest in decades. All from mere bandits.

No, she reminded herself: all from bandits whose leader held favor with a demon. Had she the energy, she was certain she'd find telltale remnants of temporary spells worked over the bandit elite and lieutenants.

She sighed and pressed on, coming to the happier instances in Taylin's record of the battle. "You also put yourself in harm's way to protect our Raiteria. And then you went on to do the same in protecting all of our children. I am certain that Keese Kaiel has informed you of what that means to us and of the honor we wish to bestow upon you."

Taylin hesitated to speak out of turn, but when Grandmother didn't continue, she went ahead. "He did, Grandmother. But... I do not deserve it. What I did, I did because I promised to help protect everyone here. It was never about gaining honor, or even getting my wings back." She cast her eyes downward. "I've never fought before... not for good reasons, or even a reason I chose myself. I had to do this, even if I received nothing in return."

A spark of interest entered Grandmother's eyes and she glanced at Kaiel who nodded. Her gaze returned to Taylin. "This is precisely why we would want you as kin, child. Family is not about profit, or even thought. Being family should come as an instinct and mere blood cannot grant that.

"However, before you accept or not, I must make you understand: if you become kin, then you _are_ kin. You are our responsibility and we yours. As many of our young ones are wont to do, you are free to come and go as is your desire, and you will know that you will always be welcomed back. But when you are here, you will give us all your skill, just as much as any other here. You have seen that Keese Kaiel lends his skills with spells and marksmanship; no less will be expected of you with your sword and any other place where you can lend a hand. Is that understood?"

Taylin nodded, feeling somehow warm even under Grandmother's scrutiny.

"Good. Then as Grandmother of the Winter Willow, I extend to you the sisterhood of Raiteria matei-Harun, who stands prepared to accept you and make you aunt to her children. What is your answer?"

The warmth only increased. It wasn't the raging fire in her belly she sometimes felt in battle, but rather like curling up somewhere and knowing both comfort and security for the first time since... When had she felt that before? Not on the ships, where the other slaves were almost as cutthroat as the masters themselves. And not in the mines where death came in a dozen forms and many who curled up to sleep never awakened as the gas overtook them.

But she had felt that. Dreamed of it a hundred times, yes, but she had to have felt it once to even know to dream it. And yet, she couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?

Aye se Pe'le.

She is my very clever girl.

She blinked away the shade of a memory. It couldn't be real. What was happening now was real; the _nir-lumos_ and her acceptance into a true family that cared about one another, stood by one another. Absolutely she wanted that. With all her heart, she accepted.

It was a moment later that she realized none of those words were spoken anywhere but inside her head.

Embarrassment tinged her cheeks red. Ru made it worse. He sensed the whole thing going on in her mind and his mental laughter rattled around in her skull. The borderline awe and admiration she'd felt from him during the battle was all but dissolved.

"Oh." She said quietly. "I lost myself for a moment there. I've never actually had a..." The words died in her throat as she struggled to keep herself from rambling. The woman in front of her was the leader of an entire people. She didn't need to hear about her lonely past.

Clearing her throat, she started again. "That is to say, yes, Grandmother. I would love to become part of the clan, and to become Raiteria's sister. I... I don't know how to thank you."

Grandmother smiled, the first completely open smile she'd seen from the elder halfling, and put her hand on Taylin's forehead. It took all of the former slave's self-control not to flinch away. Unless it was to receive combat healing, she hated to be touched. "I welcome you home then, child. But don't thank me yet; we can't spare anyone tonight to prepare you a wagon. And there are still so many that need healing... it will be days before I can return your wings."

Taylin was dumbstruck. She'd actually forgotten about that particular promise in the moment. It was just so unbelievable that...

_You are rambling in your head again, Miss Taylin._ Ru intruded.

Oh.

"Oh! You don't have to worry about that, Grandmother. I could wait a year... or a dozen if I need to." A flat out, bald faced lie, but no one could begrudge her that. "I just... thank you. How can I start helping the clan?"

Grandmother's eyes twinkled with amusement. It was like looking at an entirely different person now that she was speaking with family. "Tonight? Rest. If you cannot bear to stay in bed, seek out and speak with your new family. The Hunters will be at rest once the grim work out there is done and you will at least find time with your brother-by-marriage."

"Keese Kaiel, how is your injury?" The small moment between her and Taylin was over and instantly, Grandmother was back to business.

"I only ache now, Grandmother." Said the chronicler. "And most of that is from overextending myself drawing on the Well that last time to heal Meysur."

"Then you are at your limit for spell work for the day." She reasoned.

He hung his head. He was far ahead in his studies, but behind in building up his skill capacity in channeling energy from the power source loremen tapped to work their magic. Someone as far along the path of the loreman as he should have been able to call on at least a third more than he had. "That is true."

"As am I." the _nir-lumos_ matriarch said with a hint of comfort in her voice. "But we all have other things we can do. I wish to have you speak with the captured bandits. The dealings of the King of Flame and Steel concern me. We must know if there were others involved and how many of their number worship the Threefold Moon. Find those among the prisoners and put them to the sword. The rest will be relieved of their weapons and released."

Kaiel bowed his head. "It will be done, Grandmother."

"Heh. Putting someone to the sword has the sound of being my area of expertise." Ru smirked and transformed one arm into a blade of what looked like acid pitted, black metal.

"I believe not." Grandmother said firmly. "Are you aware, Ru Brakar, that at this moment, you are the only one present who is not family?"

Ru didn't see why he should care and gave a non-committal huff in reply.

"Although you did well in battle, and will for true be compensated, you are also not paying passage with us." Her hard eyes met his and it was like two swords locking. "However, Keese Kaiel tells me that neither of you has a coin between you. I am prepared to let you work for your debt." Ru stared to protest, but she interrupted, "Spellwork."

That got his attention. The tension in his shoulders at some imagined indignation released.

Grandmother nodded as if agreeing with the shift in body language. "Are you at your limit for the day?"

"I rarely am." He bragged. Taylin felt as if she'd choke on the cloying pride she was feeling from him.

"So I surmised." said Grandmother. "Then let us see if we can _find_ that limit. I've already seen you heal Taylin in battle. My healers have all taxed themselves as I have. Bring your healing to those still in danger, those who still hurt, and I will consider it as good as coin."

"A bit trivial for my talents."

"There are lives that may depend on it. There is no such thing as trivial in such cases."

"From your perspective." He pointed out, earning him a hard look that seemed to cow him at least in a small way. "But practice in the art is practice, I suppose. I will seek out your healers." Without another word, he was gone, floating off in search of said healers.

Grandmother frowned at Taylin. "You've chosen a very cold creature to travel with, child."

"It wasn't a choice that either of us made." She replied before bowing her head and leaving with Kaiel.

Taylin's tone was unreadable there, even to herself. She didn't know what to think of the Rune Breaker. There was still considerable guilt at enslaving him, even if the fault wasn't her own. And in truth, he scared her, link mandate against harming her or no.

Even _he_ called himself a monster, insisted that she not consider him a person. And yet, there was definitely a person there. A spiteful person who delighted in spilling blood, but also a person who was passionate about spellwork, who had a sense of humor, dark though it was, and who suffered pain just like anyone else.

And for now, she wasn't going to be rid of him. A dark specter hanging on the edges of her new and bright life.

But maybe it didn't have to be that way. It occurred to her that Ru didn't have a family either, that he had been a slave not for a few decades like her, but for thousands of years. As much of a toll as it took on her spirit, it defied imagination what it might have done to him. There wouldn't just be a lack of hope, but a vast and hungry void where hope's memory used to be.

It would explain how the lives and feelings of every other living thing could become trivial to him.

As long as the link existed, it was a testament that he would never be free. There was nothing she could do about that. What she could do though was exactly what she'd said only conversationally before: be his friend. She glanced beside her and found Kaiel deep in his own thoughts.

"Kaiel..." He flicked his eyes in her direction.

"I'm concerned about Ru..."

"The way you say that tells me that you're not concerned in the same way I'm concerned."

"...How are you concerned?"

Kaiel shrugged. "The man's obsessed with death and destruction. Nihilism isn't exactly a quality you want in a powerful wizard."

She bit her lip. He had a point and it wasn't in her favor. How much could she tell him? How much could he already guess?

"I... have a theory." She ventured, sounding unfamiliar with the jargon she'd picked up here and there guarding some of the more philosophical or scientifically minded masters. Kaiel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well... some wizards they say can extend their lives quite a bit, yes?"

"Not many are alive today, as they tended to keep such knowledge hidden a secret, but I've heard of lifespans in the hundreds of years, yes."

Taylin nodded. "Right. And we aren't from this time. Ru could be part of that generation, and he's a shapeshifter on top of that, so it's impossible to tell his age." She waited for him to nod again. "And you know of the connection we share; how he is bound to be loyal to me." Another nod. "But I am not the first to hold my end of this link. He's been bound to it for... a very long time."

Kaiel stopped walking and turned to face her fully. "You mean..."

_She nodded._ "Think about it: What if you were forced to fight for other people's causes. Causes you don't believe in, and even if you did, you know for a fact that you'll live to see them become meaningless. Think of going through that for even a dozen years, let alone a hundred or more. It would break almost anyone. But what if it didn't? Maybe the fact that he's cruel and rude, and treats killing like a game is how he kept from breaking."

The chronicler frowned and turned to start walking again. "Or it might be that he really is just cruel and rude and blood thirsty."

"It could." She conceded. "But what if I am right and what he needs is to be treated like a friend instead of a monster. Even if you're right, what are we really losing by doing this? It isn't as if I can sever the link anyway, and even if he really is the monster he says he is, might make him feel less like acting on it."

Kaiel kept walking, but Taylin reached out and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around more roughly than she planned, but catching his eyes with her own. "Please help me on this." She looked down at him with a silent plea in her emerald eyes. "As my brother?"

His eyebrow twitched. Coming from anyone else, it would have been transparently manipulative. Based on his time in Harpsfell, he knew that being transparent was often part of a larger manipulation. But Taylin wasn't one of them. She was just desperate and blindly hoping that part of her new-found status among the clan would earn her the help she sought.

"They haven't even made your badge yet and already you're making use of the ties that bind." He chided lightly, causing her to lower her head. "But there is something to be said about showing you how family behaves and not just in the _nir-lumos_ sense. Maybe it's best for me to teach by example."

Taylin looked up from her tangle of red locks. "Does that mean..."

Kaiel nodded. "It's said that the Loreman Hammond of Hollis Valley went among the ogres and lived for a year. If he can befriend a tribe of murderous ogres, I suppose a hopeful for his title can make overtures of friendship toward one homicidal mage."

A bright smile spread across her face and before either one knew what was happening, she grabbed him up into a hug, pulling him cleanly off the ground. "Thank you, Kaiel. I.. I'm not sure what I'd do if I didn't at least try..." Something in the back of her head that wasn't the link clicked and she realized what she was doing.

Almost as swiftly as she hugged him, she let go and retreated several steps, looking agog at what she'd done. That was the second time she'd done that in two days after a lifetime of... not. It was like a reflex, ingrained into her just as much as her difficulty forcing herself to sit down completely, or her battle stances. It had just been waiting for a trigger. But where had it come from?

# Chapter 12 – Her Most Beauteous Wings

The following three days were full of strange new experiences for Taylin.

Ru was absent for the remainder of the first day. When Grandmother said she intended to find his limit, she meant it. In addition to treating the wounded, she also had him working on raising an earthwork wall to help defend the town when the clan eventually rolled out.

He returned to the wagon, leading a string of horses which were part of his and Taylin's combined spoils of war. The other part: mostly clothes, armor and weapons, were heaped upon the back of the great, black warhorse. And even with that windfall, Ru complained bitterly at how Grandmother refused to allow him to keep the surviving spider, citing how its presence in the caravan would frighten the ponies. That she compensated him out of her own coffers didn't seem to mitigate his temper.

Raiteria appeared at the wagon the next morning. Grandmother had relieved her of her scout duties for the day so that the two new sisters could get to know one another. She was young enough to have the eternally youthful quality most people thought all halflings had, but up close, Taylin could see the telltale signs of years of healed scars. And unlike the other clan members, she kept her straight, black hair cut extremely short to keep it from snagging in brush or falling into her face while aiming.

Unlike her husband, who only knew conversational imperial (a derivation of what Taylin knew as the tongue of the hailene's enemy, which, in the intervening years had become the dominant language), Raiteria was fluent. While all _nir-lumos_ , being merchants by trade, knew a usable amount of imperial, scouts were virtual polyglots so as to act as spies.

After breaking the fast, Raiteria helped Taylin choose clothes and armor she had no use for and took her to barter with a hunter who also received a windfall in the previous day's battle. The difference was, that the hunter, a woman named Meerli, made most of her kills among the bandit elite, who as it turned out, were mostly half elves, or at least elf-blooded humans. That meant that they were in general taller than their fellows.

While none were as tall as Taylin, the men's clothing fit her in a way that wasn't indecent, and Raiteria bartered with a tinker to modify one of the women's chain shirts into a leather fronted chain vest to be worn over a hide shirt, which she also commissioned.

Once arrangements were made, she took Taylin out beyond the new walls to a small grove of trees and bushes that hadn't been there the previous day.

They were grown by Grandmother's magic, Raiteria explained, as funeral markers. Fruiting trees were for the fallen clan members, thorny bushes for the lost wolves. By Sylph's providence, the halflings would be able to provide for their family in the future whenever they passed this way again, and the wolves, even in death, protected them.

Standing with Taylin in that solemn place, her sister taught her the prayer for the dead of their people. Together, they asked Sylph to keep the trees green and the One Dice, Pandemos, to safeguard them in the afterlife as he does their living family.

That night, she and Kaiel ate with Raiteria, Bromun and their children. The two halflings regaled the honorary members of their clan with fond stories of the departed, mostly the hunters, whom Bromun knew well.

Ru didn't materialize for the meal, though the link told Taylin that he spent most of that time prowling the perimeter of the new wall. His deep concentration also let her know that he was taking the construction very seriously, even though he had been cowed into creating it.

The following morning found Raiteria dispatched with the other scouts to mark out the best route for the caravan when it got moving again. Taylin spent it with Bromun and the hunters. The salt stocks were topped up with meat after the battle, and their job of gathering bandit corpses and burning them out on the flood plain was done, so they spent the day fishing instead.

Taylin thought she knew everything about fishing, having been on more than her share of foraging expeditions while on the ships, but the _nir-lumos_ didn't use boats and nets. Instead they broke out slim poles of prepared bamboo, tied lines with delicate hooks to the ends, and after attaching grubs or slivers of meat, proceeded to use them to catch fish one at a time.

It seemed that fishing wasn't primarily for sustenance, as the hunters largely ignored their lines. Instead, they turned to idle banter and boasting about their feats in battle, both recent and past. They were eager enough to include Taylin, but she stuck to the battle of two days prior; the only one she was proud of.

After returning with two full barrels of fish, the hunters brought Taylin to what would be her wagon; a garish green and yellow thing with lacquered, orange window frames and shutters. It was normally reserved for travelers who would pay the clan for their hospitality along their routes, but the Taunaun leg of their travels rarely attracted many passengers. Some of the wagons belonging to the deceased would eventually be converted to the same task now that they served no other purpose.

There weren't many furnishings; all of Kaiel's were purchased with his own coin; but there was a bed with a new, if cheap mattress, some shelves, and a chest, which upon closer inspection, were all actually outgrowths of the wagon's gretharian walls. It was enough for Taylin, who was too delighted with a bed of her own to complain about how she still needed to borrow things like plates or cups from Kaiel or 'Rai' as her sister preferred to be called.

Now, on the third day, Taylin was sitting on her bed – her _own_ bed, listening to the wagon masters outside, working to get everything shored up and the ponies hitched up in preparation for the journey that Grandfather insisted should start by noon.

She wasn't alone. Grandmother was there, as well as a halfling woman named Signateria, an acolyte studying the ways in which Grandmother channeled the power of the Goddess Sylph. The difference between them was that Signateria intended not only to serve and receive the blessing of Sylph, but Pandemos as well. A wood carved rendition of the One Dice hung from her neck alongside the paw and garland icon of Sylph.

Kaiel had taken Ru and left a short while earlier, when it became necessary for Taylin to remove her shirt so Grandmother could observe the masses of scar tissue that were all that remained of her wings. Ru protested that a dead man could not be lecherous, but Kaiel insisted and Ru didn't care enough to argue, having some techniques he still wanted to apply to the earthworks.

Rai was there in their place, sitting with her as Grandmother poked and prodded the scars and occasionally said 'hmm'.

Eventually, Signateria stood up from where she'd been working with a mortar and pestle and, at Grandmother's nod, began slathering the sickly green mush from the stone bowl all over Taylin's back. A strong, bitter scent filled her nostrils, making her cringe. "It smells like poison."

"And it would be if you ate it." Said Grandmother. "But you will be glad of it in a moment. The salve numbs the skin."

"Why would my skin need to be numb? I thought this was healing magic?" Taylin asked, unsure in all matters magical.

"Aye, it is. But in order to regenerate what has been lost, we will first need to cut away the scars so new growth may return." She was silent for a pregnant second. "Even with the numbing, it will be most painful. If you don't wish to go through with it..."

"No." Taylin said quickly and more bluntly than was strictly wise to use with the Winter Willow's matriarch. "Please. I can handle it. I've been in pain before; this is worth it."

Grandmother's face remained an emotionless mask. "Then we will begin. Lie down."

Raiteria hopped off the bed to give her room, but Taylin still had to fold her legs up against the wall to properly fit. That part was easy enough; learning how to get comfortable while crammed into crowded space that was cramped even without a few dozen fellow slaves packed in around her was second nature. She was uncomfortable lying there, on her stomach, stripped to the waist, however. The only people she'd seen in that position aboard the ships were corpses, on their way to becoming one, or wishing they were one.

The same restless surge of adrenaline she felt when the hounds were bearing down on her, or during the battle tried to reassert itself, but she forced herself to breathe and forced it down. The three woman with her were family now, and they were doing their best to help her.

Grandmother producing an obsidian knife from among the supplies she brought with her wasn't helping matters. The first cut, less so. It wasn't like a slash in battle, where chaos and exhilaration distracted from the pain and the blow came swiftly and with little warning. No, she felt it and had time to think about it; every terrible inch.

Something tensed in the back of the link. Ru. He could feel it to, courtesy of the link's forced empathy.

Empathy, but not sympathy. Instead of concern or possibly horror, all she felt being directed toward her was curiosity.

Forcing her breath to stay even and the urge to bolt, or worse, fight back taxed her, but Taylin clenched her jaw, screwed her eyes shut, and did it anyway. She tried to get her mind off it, thinking about what life would be like once she could fly again. Maybe she could serve as a scout like Rai, or use her vantage to aid the hunters. Maybe...

It wasn't working. Her imagination could be vivid at times, but it could conjure no distraction great enough to take her mind off the black blade and what it was doing. At this point, she wished that she would just pass out from the pain, but the numbing agent worked just well enough that blessed unconsciousness lingered on the edge of her mind, but never rushed in.

She was close enough to it though that she glimpsed odd images here and there; fever dreams she'd had before on the occasion that a lax captain would let a minor illness grow into a ship-wide contagion. She saw a city of stone towers, emerging from dense jungle that lay across the foothills of burning mountains like cats upon their master's lap. She saw a very different jungle, this one inside a room whose walls were made of glass with sky all around. She saw a woman, a hailene like her former masters, but instead of a scowl, or self-important smirk, she smiled warmly and adjusted her spectacles before reading aloud from a book. And then there was a man, speaking with the women from before; another hailene, but even for them, impossibly tall and angular. His eyes glinted with cruelty as he turned to look directly at Taylin...

_Shameful._ Ru's mental voice broke through the pain and odd images.

Taylin was so surprised, she couldn't think in words, instead sending him the telepathic equivalent of '?!'.

_This is the mettle of warriors?_ Ru continued. _Hallucinating_ _after only a mere bit of surgical flaying? It tears at my mind, this mystery of how the sword and the fist became the symbol of conquest when it takes only a bit of pain to make both useless. In my time, a wizard who couldn't conjure while half dead was deemed a failure._

She wished she could say it came as a surprise, but Ru seldom had anything to say that wasn't mocking in some way unless it pertained to combat or magic. It was possible that this too was his way of rebelling against the link. After the first time, it hadn't punished him again for rudeness. She was still trying to figure out what triggered it that time.

_Nothing to say in your defense?_ He taunted.

_It's different when you're fighting._ She tried to explain.

_Heh._ Even mentally, he found a way to specifically make that noise. _Pain is pain, Miss Taylin. If you can conquer it in one context, you have no excuses being unable to in another._

Taylin frowned at this. It made a _kind_ of sense, and yet it didn't. Handling pain when she was fighting was simple; it was simply a matter of distraction. But she didn't have any distractions, just lying there in the wagon as she was.

_That's not it at all._ She said. _It isn't as if I can have this done while I'm dueling someone. I can only just lay still and let her work._

_Another reason mages are superior._ Said Ru, smugly, _We can engage in more duels than simple brute combat. Granted, brute combat is an enjoyable pastime, Miss Taylin, but the correct tool is always superior to the one that merely fits better in the hand._

The tone in the link grew slightly wistful, though it was his general pride in himself that was dominant. _When I was a man, I often succeeded in my best feints, most diabolical flanking maneuvers and most crushing victories, all using merely the art of debate._

Taylin couldn't help but laugh inwardly. _Is that why you always start arguments with Kaiel?_

He brooded for a bit before answering. _Just because I neither like, nor trust the chronicler doesn't mean I don't find his own philosophical and diplomatic training formidable. Trading verbal assaults is a worthy form of recreation._

It caught her marginally off guard that he admitted to that. She half expected him to simply reaffirm his hatred of Kaiel and be done with it. Which brought another question to mind: _Is that why you're so rude to me? I thought it was because of the link._

Another long pause, then: _Heh. To be enjoyable sport, the target must deliver blows of their own. And the link cares not if I am rude as long as I follow orders and do no psychological harm._

_Why then? If I'm not fun to argue with and you aren't spiting the link, then what's the point? I've never done anything to make you hate me..._ Guilt wafted into the link, _On purpose._

There was incongruous amusement in the link as Ru felt he'd scored a point against her in revenge for outsmarting him in the cavern. _You will notice, Miss Taylin, that I have not mocked you since the day of the battle, when it became clear that you would make bad sport in arguments._

That's not true. You did it today, just a moment ago!

_Indeed. And not for sport, nor out of rebellion._ His tone became that of a master speaking to his apprentice. _Tell me, Miss Taylin, have you ever used a spear as a walking stick, or cleared brush with a sword?_ He waited for her to reply in the affirmative.

Some weapons are more versatile than others. But none has ever been as versatile as the Rune Breaker.

Realization hit her almost immediately once she knew what to look for. She hadn't taken notice of the pain the entire time they talked. The whole thing had been a distraction. Guilt started to well up anew when she realized that even if he'd tricked her into doing it, she had used him. But then the smugness spiked and her guilt was subsumed by embarrassment. He had tricked her! His entire talk about feints and crushing defeats... it had all been part of an even larger misdirection.

Ru read her mind before she could think of what to say. _The phrase you are looking for, Miss Taylin, is 'well played'._

I can't believe you!

And yet I've never made a secret that I am a manipulative monster. We are now even, I believe.

As the embarrassment and shock started to wear off Taylin became aware of the room around her once more. None of the three halfling women even noticed the argument or her reaction to Ru's triumph. The numbing salve had mixed into her reopened wounds, causing them to feel more like heavy weights on her back than painful cuts.

The cutting itself was done. Had been done for some time, it seemed. Grandmother was speaking in the halfling language, a prayer to Sylph. It was only when she felt the first touches of healing magic, pleasurable and warm, did she understand that it wasn't just a prayer, but a spell. _The_ spell. She was getting her wings back.

Unlike other healing spells, it wasn't a swiftly passing sensation followed by the tingle of knitting skin. Nor was it the mind-addling rush that was the full healing spell Ru used on her in the Rune Breaker chamber. It settled into the wounds on her back, into the wing stumps, and then began to seep outward, suffusing the muscles around the stumps and then down into her pectorals and the thin, but strong band of muscles that controlled the hinged ribs of all hailene. Atrophy was cured in a glittering cascade of humming energy.

And then the itching started. Her scars never itched and it was a shock to feel sensation there. That feeling only grew and expanded as the area itself followed suit. Weight she hardly knew she'd missed, muscles she only felt as a memory; Taylin became increasingly aware of all of them through the fog of the healing magic and the numbing agent.

On a reflex she once thought lost forever, she flexed and felt wet feathers ruffling against her bare back before lifting up against gravity until their tips dragged the ceiling. The itching continued for several minutes longer, as feathers continued to fill out and nerve networks finished linking together.

As if predicting the precise moment that the regrowth ceased, Grandmother said. "You can sit up now."

Taylin did, and flared her wings fully. Wingtip to wingtip, they stretched the length of the wagon, at which point she had to curve them to fit. For the first time in years, she saw them; feathers as red as her hair. They marked her as ang'hailene. The masters hated them and tried their level best to make her hate them too.

They were beautiful.

***

More than a week went past since the clan of the Winter Willow rolled out of the village and disappeared across the flood plain, an eye toward the nation of Novrom and better markets for peddling their wares and services. Another night had fallen some time ago.

Upon a large boulder jutting out into the river, a lone figure stood beside his extinguished lantern and uttered silent prayers to the gathering of stars. They were the only ones left to him now, for the gods would not forgive, and the demons would not forget.

"Elder Partha." A voice as smooth and content as a cat's purr emerged from the darkness behind him. "You disappoint me."

The figure on the boulder turned in time for a soft light to appear before him. He was one of the elders of the village, the one that went to fetch clothes for Taylin. And on the other side of that light was the demon who wouldn't forget.

Rich robes in red, black, and white with golden accents clothed him, but failed utterly to conceal his monstrosity. Even beneath the regal trappings, his neck and arms showed skin that was like poorly aged and cracked leather; his fingers overlong and ending in thick, black nails that scraped together with a sound like metal files. He wore his hair long and brown, tied into a tightly braided tail.

Upon his face was a mask, seemingly of stone, but in the light, it showed a golden sheen that only direct brightness could reveal. There was no mouth, but there were two angular holes for eyes through which a faint, white glow escaped. Dozens of thin lines were scratched in the mask's surface, forming strange patterns across it. Where the light struck them just right, they betrayed a glimmer of red, orange, or blue.

Partha shuddered. Somewhere above him, a black shape crossed between him and the stars. It could have been his fear, but he swore he heard a noblewoman's laugh on the wind.

"Lord Immurai." He sputtered.. "I—"

"We had a very simple bargain." the demon, Immurai the Masked, spoke over him, never losing his even tone. "You deliver every soul in your pitiful little hamlet to be slaughtered by the King of Flame and Steel; an example of his power in the region; and in return, I grant you renewed youth."

The demon took a step forward and reached into a fold in his voluminous robes. Partha scrambled back until he ran out of rock. The gurgle of the river below was a siren's song to end his life before the demon could.

Immurai didn't seem to care about his fate one way or another and kept talking. "And what should we find, not two miles out on the frontier?" He took from his robe a blackened human skull, still stinking of char and burnt meat. Partha imagined he could still see curls of smoke occasionally wafting from it.

"Pity be to him." the demon said dramatically. "His real name was Tanner. Did you know? I saw a spark in him; a will to lead, the charisma to back it. He dominated his men. Made them afraid to fail him. Afraid to be caught not following him."

The white lights behind the mask dimmed and focused on Partha. "But all's the more pity that I put six years into setting this locust up to rule this hill of ants. You might think that a blink of the eye to one who has lived as long as I, but I assure you, it is not. This one could have been the antithesis of Nov I, forming a nation in this dust-bowl under the Threefold Moon. And I would no longer be Immurai the Masked, but once more Immurai the Gaunt, sitting at my Lord's right hand."

He never raised his voice, but the rage was clear. And then it was gone. His clawed hand flexed and the skull formerly belonging to the King of Flame and Steel shattered like cheap pottery.

"My Lord, it was not my doing. The halflings came on their own and—" Partha cringed and tried to apologize, to beg for his life. But the demon spoke over him again.

"But... and this is where your luck turned, dear Partha: When we came upon the bodies, I found that some of them retained an essence from contact with a being of great power."

Above, the _thing_ blotting out the stars in passing was back again. This time Partha knew he heard the laugh.

Immurai was suddenly behind him, terrifyingly close. He spoke into the old man's ear. "So tell me, good Partha: did someone extraordinary come to your aid when the King came to claim his due?"

Shivering uncontrollably, the old man nodded. "A woman and a man. The chronicler brought them the day before. The woman was a wingless hailene; a soldier. And such strength! I thought her one of yours at first. The man fought like an animal; transforming and killing at will. They left with the halflings."

One of the holes over Immurai's eyes actually widened with his interest. "So. That is my prize then. Quite the antiquity that one." A gentle laugh escaped him. "And they travel with halflings, who the One Dice shields from my sight. You are a very lucky man, Partha." He moved around the old man and began to walk to the proper shore.

"Lucky?" the village elder asked. "My Lord, how can you say that? I am still stalked by age!"

"Are you?" The soft light flew to Immurai's hand and suddenly blazed into brilliance. It threw his masked face into sharp relief. Then, he flung the light into the old man's chest where it burst into white flames, which instantly spread to consume him.

Turning, he admired his work while Partha screamed. "You are very lucky indeed, dear Partha. I have use for a younger you. Surely you can handle a little agony for youth, yes?"

There was a high, shrill laugh behind him and a slender hand the color and texture of rich, red clay touched his neck. "It is a great deal of power, my love." A female voice said. "Is building a whole new body for dear Partha worth it?"

Immurai reached up and caressed the stony appendage. "My love, if we capture this prize, we won't even need the Threefold Moon any longer. We can build our own gods; and make them fight for our amusement."

End Book 1

#

#

# The Adventure Continues!

If you enjoyed A GIRL AND HER MONSTER,

Keep an eye out for

**LIGHTER DAYS, DARKER NIGHTS**

Rune Breaker Part 2 of 4

by _Landon Porter_

With Immurai on the hunt and the Clan of the Winter Willow on the move, the story is just beginning for Taylin and Ru.

Their next stop takes them to Daire City, where they meet a talented adventurer, her not so talented fan girl and a pious swordsman. Things are looking up for Taylin and even Ru is less irritable for a change, but all that could be fleeting as Immurai sets his plans in motion.

***

Chapter 1 – Tales of the Rune Breaker

Wind swept the top of the hill, laying the grass flat and shaking the leaves in the sparse trees at its crown. If wind could be seen, this one would be revealed to be swirling around a dark figure who stood on the bald, south facing slope. It gathered his coal-gray robes and tossed his jet hair, but it may as well have been doing nothing for all he noticed.

Gripped firmly in both hands was a scythe, but it was in a form that was neither a farm tool, nor a weapon of war. Its curved haft was blackened by fire tempering and girded by rings of unadorned iron. The scythe-head was over sized, wickedly curved and polished to a silvery sheen. Intimidating, and in those practiced hands, also functional; deadly.

It was around that murderous curve that the eye of the small whirlwind centered, drawn by invisible patterns of  _vin_ , the mystical energy of air, and the words on his lips.

"That which is nothing and yet fills all empty space. That which we pass through, and yet drives galleons forward. Heed my will. Focus and be transformed." He raised the scythe overhead. The whirlwind intensified. "Let all forces arrayed against be scattered. Let those who stand in my way be torn asunder!"

The spell fell into place, a complex weave of patterns, each iterating into the next, concentrating  _vin_ , directing it into a singular direction and encasing it in still other patterns. Tension built as titanic forces were channeled.

Mnemonics, like the one he intoned, were concentration and memory aids for spell casting. The less complex the spell and the more advanced the caster, the less necessary they were. He was a master of his art and had other aids beside, but his personal reserves of energy had been depleted, requiring him to use a longer form of the spell with a built-in structure for summoning the energies needed to power it.

Forces that proved too much for the mere matter that hosted it. A high keening of steel sheering against steel filled the air for just a moment before being overtaken by a sharp, loud report like a rifle shot. The scythe blade shattered, the mystic pressure within sending steel shards out in all directions with ballistic force.

"Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!" Ru roared, throwing down the now empty haft of the scythe. The fury of yet another failure made the seven or eight shards of metal in his arms and chest almost an after-thought to him.

They did not go unnoticed by someone else.

_Ru, what was that? Is something wrong?_  Taylin didn't have to ask if he was hurt because she could tell, even when the pain was in the back of his mind.

_That was failure and disgust, Miss Taylin._  He replied darkly.

Down below the hill, he could see the wagons, arrayed in a lazy arc along the banks of the Hattale River, centered on a low, stone building that served as a kind of rest station for halfling caravans. Within its walls, raised by deific magic identical to that which Grandmother channeled, were emergency rations, healing supplies, and permanent magical structures for purifying water and locating nearby settlements. The Winter Willow was strong at the moment, so instead of partaking, they added to the stocks of salt meats and dried food for their cousins in hard times.

At the moment, the clan was taking advantage of the river for cleaning and bathing.  _Nir-lumos_  clans bathed communally as a bonding activity, but none of them batted an eye at the fact that their human and hailene 'siblings' didn't take part. There were a few friendly barbs about the tall folks' idea of propriety from Raiteria when Taylin absconded with a metal tub from a supply wagon and retreated into the woods downstream to do her own washing.

Without looking, he could pinpoint exactly where she was, thanks to the link, and it worked both ways. He imagined he could feel her infuriatingly concerned glance in his direction even from a quarter mile away, but she let the subject drop when his response proved he wasn't badly hurt.

The girl needed to learn that his pain was not her concern, he thought darkly. It was barely even his concern when it wasn't from a directly mystic source. Absently, he picked a three inch sliver of metal out of the flesh beneath his collarbone and glared at it for its lack of mystic fortitude.

"You curse like a relic."

Ru turned in place. As he nearly always hovered, he didn't have to move a muscle to accomplish the motion.

A translucent, yellow kite shield hovered in the air just ahead of Kaiel's open palm. Three more pieces of shrapnel were caught in its layers of protective energies, slowly rotating as they continued to spend their momentum against his mysterious power source.

For over three weeks, curiosity regarding that; a magic he couldn't detect, burned at him. But Ru refused to reveal his ignorance and ask after what the chronicler was tapping when he performed magic. He fixed the other man with a glare through the shield.

Until being so rudely interrupted by the threat of high velocity death, Kaiel had been sitting with his back against a tree, surrounded by open books, drawing some sort of spell diagram on parchment spread out on a lap desk across his knees.

Parchment and desk were toppled into the dust now, books askew. It wasn't for the first time, not even the first time that day. Ru's experiments with the scythe had started two days out from the village the Winter Willow along with Taylin and Ru defended from bandit siege. He claimed he was making progress, but that seemed to only mean that his failures had gone from mundane to spectacularly dangerous.

This one seemed to tire him more, both in body and spirit, than the others however, and he didn't respond to the shot with his usual acid. "That one comes from Miss Taylin's direct predecessor. Of all the undeniably mad creatures to hold the link, he was among the worst."

Having blasted the weapon apart several times already, this time he had the forethought to place several contingencies on the blade. A small surge of  _vox_  tugged on invisible lines of force connected to each broken piece, pulling them back to a center located above his hand. Within moments, a small cloud of metal began to orbit him and reassemble into some semblance of their former shape.

"If you say he was mad..." Kaiel started.

Ru sneered. "It truly vexes you not to know the entire story, doesn't it, story spinner?"

Somewhere along the way, one of the halflings must have taught him that 'story spinner' was another derogatory term for a student of the College who wasn't a story spinner by profession. Kaiel neglected to point out that he  _was_  a story spinner even if his primary focus was chronicling, and thus wasn't insulted, if only to prevent him from going back to 'charlatan'.

He still shot the mage with a glare though, followed by a mean spirited smirk as he released his shield spell. "Just as much as it vexes you not being able to detect my casting." The point hit its mark, as Ru's eyes narrowed. Kaiel laughed inwardly as he shifted position against the tree and drew his desk back across his knees. "I wonder how many hours of thought you've poured into that. Probably as many as I have trying to figure out the how and why of this link of yours. Thus, I propose a trade."

"Information for information." Ru guessed. His eyes were on the now largely reconstructed scythe blade. "You will explain how you conceal your power and I will shed light upon the nature of the link." Much like their method of ending up in the current time period, Taylin didn't like talking about the link, or Ru's identity. But she never expressly or implicitly forbade him from divulging that information, so he had no qualms at doing so.

Kaiel gave him a level look. Something along those lines had come to mind for him. "Are you sure Taylin doesn't mind?"

"Why should I care? I don't intend to tell you anything further about her; and my history is my affair alone." The link brushed his nerves with a certain sharpness that warned that his words were dangerously close to punishable insubordination.

"You're overly harsh with her." Kaiel admonished. "Especially when she concerns herself so much with being pleasant to you."

Ru hunched his shoulders. "I've warned her time and again about wasting her time in that way. It is none of my concern that the girl foolishly insists on treating me as something other than what I am."

"This isn't the first time you've talked like that." Kaiel noted. "As if basic demi-human compassion and dignity are below you... or possibly beyond you. It's not fitting for a self-important blowhard like you."

"If you want to satisfy your curiosity, pay your end of the trade; tell me what in the seven interlocking hells is so different about your technique that literal centuries of training my senses cannot tell."

Kaiel laughed. "I would actually be greatly impressed if you trained yourself to detect what was barely in use four hundred years ago, when you were last active. Oh, the Dragon Nations had the secret since the era of Draconic Control, but in your time, only the hailene were putting it to use; and only then, mostly in laboratory settings."

"If you remain so cryptic, I reserve the right to be cryptic as well." said Ru. "And if I choose to, I can twist words into instant madness."

The chronicler got the message and moved to the heart of the matter. "It isn't the technique you're unable to see. Loreman tradition still relies on spell structures and patterns like any other. The thing that's confounding you is the source: the discarnate energy from the Well of Souls."

Ru knew of the Well. It was the afterlife, or at least the current afterlife. It hadn't existed before the world was called Ere. Everyone that died passed down through its layers: the Afterworld, the White Ways and Court of Wandering Souls, the Seven Interlocking Hells, until finally joining with the Source of All Souls. It never occurred to him that magic there was any different than in the living world.

Kaiel read his expression. "You've never heard of discarnate energy? Understandable. It's use has grown since wide knowledge of it came in the Age of Tragedies, but it's still uncommon for anyone not born to it like a spirit docent, or inborn caster to have access to it. The College is one of only three schools that teach it. It's... hmm; are you aware of the five points of mortality?"

"Indeed: Mind, Body, Soul and the two sides of Anima: Generation and Decay." Ru said, still studying the scythe blade, half wondering if it could be physically girded against the forces it had to contain.

"Exactly." Kaiel nodded. "And each of those has energies attached to them. The Body is physical, made up of the six elements;  _ere-a_ ,  _vin_ ,  _flaer_ ,  _akua_ ,  _ferif_ , and  _vox_ ; and thus under the purview of elemental energy within the physical plane. The Mind is, of course the seat and subject of  _psi_ , the power generated by the Body harmonizing with the astral plane. And Anima is driven by the twin energies of  _vitae_  and  _nekras_ , both of which come from living things altering the world around them.

"But have you ever wondered why there's no energy that pertains to the Soul?" Kaiel didn't wait for an answer, "It's because a mortal's soul needs only a small fraction of discarnate energy; the power that connects every living thing and draws them together. You can't tap your own Soul like you can your Body or Mind, so it's hard to even tell it's there—unless you know how to tap into the Well, where discarnate energy is as omnipresent as elemental power here."

He took the flute from his vest pocket. "The secret is music. Vibration really. The Well has resonances that the College calls the Word and the Song. Connect a sound to that resonance in your mind and you can draw on that power. Even better, being trained in understanding discarnate energy allows us to manipulate the sliver of energy in the people around us; make our words sound like the truth, or--"

"Hear the truth in the words of another." Ru finished for him. "So that is how you do it. I assumed that you were just claiming to be adept at reading body language."

"Most do." Kaiel admitted. "and the College encourages it, just like it encourages the dime novels. It makes people underestimate us. Besides, it might endanger many people's positions as advisers to the wealthy and influential if it got out that we could push and pull on people's minds without creating a single spell structure."

That actually impressed Ru. All mystical methods against mind altering effects that even he knew about relied on disrupting the spell structures as they were laid over the target's mind. If there was no pattern to detect or disrupt, there was really no magical defense against them, only mundane training in detecting and evading mental attacks with one's own mind.

"So now you know." Kaiel finally said after a period of silence. "Care to honor your end of the bargain?"

Ru walked over to a different tree, not far away, and took a seat beneath it. "Where to begin? You call yourself a chronicler—stop me if you've heard the tale: There exists in this world a weapon; sought after by the most ambitious and wicked, because whosoever wields it gains the power to bring a nation to its knees and destroy any who stand in their path."

"Sometimes I forget just what time you came from." said Kaiel. "I suppose the Rune Breaker legends were quite widespread in your time. They're fairly obscure now, outside the College. Master Turenton teaches them as an example of the poison myth."

"Poison myth?"

"Proof that not all legends and stories are positive; a lesson to make the story spinners stop and think about what they're putting on paper beyond just what will make them coin. The Rune Breaker legends seem to have done nothing but drive the half-mad and disaffected to throw away their lives looking for the cursed thing; many of whom did gruesome deeds in the pursuit."

A sneer came to Ru's face. "Heh. What do you know of the weapon?"

Kaiel raised an eyebrow and let his eyes fall on the pieces of scythe in the other man's hands. "Why? Are you looking for it?"

"I can assure you that I have no need to search for the Rune Breaker."

It was the truth. Kaiel could tell. "Fine..." He searched his memory. "No one can agree on much of anything about the thing's origins. The prevalent tale is of a small nation during Draconic Control where the dragons separated mortals into peasants and aristocrats in order to use class grudges to keep them from uniting against their lords.

"A woman of noble birth was taken from her lover, a knight of some renown, and married off to a cruel warlord to foster an alliance. On their wedding night, she slew him with his own sword and presented it, still wet with his blood, to her love. The warlord's spirit dwelt in the sword, and over time, twisted the knight's heart, causing him to become obsessed with conquest. His self-made widow, he 'protected' by sealing her in a tower alone but for when he delivered food and drink, until she went mad and died of loneliness.

"The sword passed from hand to hand, thereafter, granting its wielder its military genius at the price of losing everything of the self but the desire to conquer."

Ru didn't bother concealing his bemused expression. It was amazing what a few centuries could do to facts. "But that is only one tale, yes?"

"Of about a dozen that we know of." Kaiel confirmed. "There's another that says that it came to be in the peace after the beginning of the world, when a shepherd found an iron flask with a demon bound inside. The shepherd was a clever man and tricked the demon to change his shape into a goad and locked him into it, promising that he could be free of that shape if he served whoever held the goad with his powers for one thousand years."

He gave Ru a speculative look. "But why are you asking this? If you don't want this weapon—if it even existed—then what does it have to do at all with my question?"

A sharp smile came to the mage's face, though he didn't look up from reattaching the blade to the scythe's haft with some elementary manipulation of the little used power of elemental metal,  _ferif_.

"What if I told you that both stories were, in a way, true? Neither are the origin of the weapon, but that doesn't mean they didn't happen." Kaiel was silent, looking at him, confused. This pleased Ru greatly, so he continued, hoping to exacerbate that condition.

"The woman was called Arethlana, an elven highborn for whom the dubious privilege the dragons heaped upon her wasn't enough. She commanded a bandit gang in secret, preying on her friends and family for profit. It was her lieutenant and lover who found the Rune Breaker, but loyalty made him bring her to it to strike the bargain.

"She killed half her gang as a test of the weapon's power, then turned it on her highborn husband before sending a black knight forth to slaughter her fellows that she might accumulate their holdings. She died when the dragons found out that she had tipped their precious balance between the classes. The Rune Breaker aided her not against three members of the Gold Nation."

Ru purposefully left out how Arethlana had frittered away so much of his power on humiliating her enemies, or his part in 'failing' to protect her when the dragons came. By then he had suffered quite enough of her faux royal attitude and strange appetites and the pain of the link's punishment was far outweighed by his annoyance at her. He laughed through the agony as her little empire burned along with her. The Nation of Gold brooked no interference with their works.

"How..." Kaiel began. If Ru got that story from a book, he wanted to read it. But Ru kept speaking.

"The shepherd was also real. He was called by Eske Metredes and found the weapon in a cave while looking for a strayed kid. He was the first in this era, but the Rune Breaker comes from a time before your gods arrived on this world."

Except for the dogmatic to the point of insanity, it was understood that the primary gods of Ere, the so-called Vishnari Pantheon, had not always been part of the world. Their own dogma, by and large, admitted that goblins and ogres and many other mortal races dwelt on Ere before the Pantheon brought humans and hailene to what for them was a new homeland and transformed some of their number into other races; elves, halflings, minotaurs, hengeyokai and the like.

That assertion didn't pique Kaiel's interest; it was the implication of it. Precious few artifacts existed from the time before the arrival of the Pantheon—Saint's Landing. If Ru knew something the College didn't, that knowledge would be worth a great deal to anyone.

Ru either didn't notice or didn't care as he recounted how Metredes took over the little valley he called home and ruled by fear up until he was poisoned by his own son, and there was no reason for Kaiel to even consider that Ru had taught the jealous young man all he knew about poisoning. Metredes too had swiftly become worthy enough for death that the pain of the link's punishment was worth it. The poison took the tiny king of a tiny valley swiftly, but painfully as every muscle seized and spasmed.

"But," He concluded, "That story contains some accuracies that I was surprised to hear. The Rune Breaker does indeed think for itself and change form."

"None of this explains why we're talking about those terrible, destructive legends when I wanted to know about the link you share with Taylin." said Kaiel hotly. As intrigued as he was with the possibility of pre-Saint's Landing knowledge, being denied the answers to that other mystery grated on him.

"Because I am a terrible, destructive man." Ru said, swinging the repaired scythe up to rest over one shoulder. The motion drew Kaiel's eye.

"The Rune Breaker... the scythe. That's what you've been trying to do? Make one?"

Ru barked a harsh laugh. "Don't be foolish, story spinner. You cannot  _create_  one such as the Rune Breaker. The scythe was called Grace, and it served me well for centuries until that bloated fool that preceded Miss Taylin caused me to lose it."

Kaiel groaned, which turned into a beleaguered sigh. "Then what was the point?"

"Not as smart as even I gave you credit for." the mage made a tsking sound. "I have told you everything and yet, you cannot make the connections. Of how Arethlana struck a bargain to be master of the Rune Breaker. Of how the weapon thinks and changes its form. And we have both agreed that it is terrible and destructive. Are you so dense that I must add that Arethlana, thinking herself very clever, is the one who bestowed upon the weapon the name 'Rune Breaker'?"

A horrible possibility shot through Kaiel's mind, but he fought it down. "I always assumed that the thing was named that since its creation."

"No name could have survived from the destruction of the world to the coming of your gods." Ru emphasized 'your'.

The possibility condensed into a hollow weight at the pit of Kaiel's stomach. He drew together the other clues by speaking them aloud. "Ru Brakar: worse than a demon; an ancient monster. You've said these about yourself. You've complained of Taylin refusing to 'wield' you, and she herself has mentioned a bargain that resulted in the link."

His expression went blank as more implications hit him. "That's why a mere 'weapon' is so powerful. It isn't an object at all. It's a man; an ancient wizard bound by... something extraordinary... to serve whoever is willing to bargain with it."

Mentioning the bargain stoked a sudden concern. "Is the other part true? About how the Rune Breaker corrupts whoever uses it?" He didn't know exactly where Taylin was, as Ru did, but he cast a worried glance down at the caravan nonetheless.

"As if I would have to if I wanted to." said Ru with a disapproving sneer. "People are inherently terrible. There have been one hundred and seven masters of the Rune Breaker and each one of them was a natural monster who had no reservations against turning on allies, friends, families; even those they profess to 'love' if it served their purposes."

"But not Taylin." Kaiel pointed out.

Ru growled deep in his throat. "It has to be an act."

"To what end? And can't you read her emotions in any event?"

Another growl. "A substantially well-orchestrated act." Which, if his claim was correct, was aided by powerful magic to fool the link's telepathy. He didn't have to admit that however.

"My training says otherwise." said Kaiel. "My first impressions are usually right when they're positive."

"Then you must meet very few people." Ru countered. "And even if Miss Taylin is genuine in her considerations, the matter remains that I am not her friend; I am her weapon. That was the bargain she struck; to wield me as she will."

"'As she will'." Kaiel quoted, finding his nerve returning. There was no clear proof that Ru was who and what he said he was, and even then, the legends were incomplete and conflicting. Besides that, he'd already had nearly a month to observe the man and found that though he was rude and violent, he wasn't mindlessly so. If he were to turn on Kaiel or the clan, there would be a reason.

"It seems to me," He said carefully making sure Ru could hear in his tone that he wasn't afraid of the Rune Breaker, "that how she treats you is Taylin's choice then. It doesn't sound as if you have a great deal of choice in the matter."

Ru stood, or rather straightened while floating, weapon still over his shoulder. "This has never happened before." He confessed, more to the afternoon sun than Kaiel. "I understand orders and distrust. I cannot comprehend what is wrong with this girl, who is handed power on a leash and chooses so vehemently to not use it. She continually asks me what I want, what I think. Just now, when my spell failed, she contacted me to ask after my injuries; knowing I am effectively immortal. This is an entire new kind of madness I've never encountered."

Feigning a sudden failure of interest, the chronicler set about straightening out his books. "It stands to reason that, if you are what you say you are, you've spent the vast, vast majority of your life in the company of the power-mad and genocidal. Forgive me for not giving you much credence as an unbiased judge of the mortal psyche." He ignored the glare and pointed to the west. "In two days time, we will be in the Principality of Torm Dondaire and at the gates of Daire City. I spent many days there in my childhood and I know the people."

"You  _know_  the women, I'm certain."

Kaiel ignored him outwardly while inwardly gritting his teeth. "They aren't perfect paragons of truth and right, but the breed of kindness Taylin shows isn't alien there. I will let them prove that it's not a madness she possesses, but the opposite."

Turning in air, Ru looked to the west. Hills limited visibility in that direction, looking as if a giant hand had wrinkled the landscape. When he focused, however, he could sense it faintly: permanent spell structures more powerful, and far more numerous than the ones in the haflings' stone house. There had been nothing like it to his knowledge when last he traveled Ere. It reminded him of a time long past.

He didn't have time to dwell on it in thought, as he sensed Taylin moving. Turning once again, he looked just in time to see her clear the tree cover, wings outstretched and shining like fire in the sun as she rose, hauling the empty metal tub with her.

Even without it, she would have been a bit wobbly. Having been out of practice for years, she'd only had less than a month to relearn all that she'd forgotten. As he watched, she had to flap overly much to correct for a stray breeze.

The one hundred and eighth master of the Rune Breaker. Was it all an act? Did it matter if it was or wasn't?

He grunted an approximation of a goodbye to Kaiel and teleported. Not to her, but to the wagon. She was usually insufferably cheerful immediately after a bath and he wanted to have some spellwork to attend to so she wouldn't direct it at him. The link already subjected him to enough of it.

# Also by Landon Porter

Rune Breaker

A Girl and Her Monster

Lighter Days, Darker Nights

The Path of Destruction

Evil Unto Evil (Coming Soon)

The Descendants

Collection 1: We Could Be Heroes

Collection 2: Tome Attacks

The Complete Volume 1 (Coming Soon) 

# About the Author

Landon Porter is a proud geek who enjoys comic books, roleplaying, and gaming. He knows a d20 from 2d10, the Konami Code and why Pi Day is March 14. A fan of all things Fantasy and Sci-Fi, he's been writing about them on the web since 2002 and has been telling stories since before he could write at all.

If you would like to be alerted about new releases and projects by Landon Porter, sign up for his free newsletter, or follow him on Twitter **@ParadoxOmni** Also, check out **descendantsserial.com** for more work from Landon Porter.
