 
# Courted Sanctuary

By Tara K. Young

Published by Myriad Maia at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Tara Kristen Young

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## Glossary

**Crone** \- A Mintharch priestess who is recognized for her exceptional skill at a particular task and instructs the Goddess Maids in those tasks. There is only ever one crone for a particular task at a time.

**disabitato** \- An undesirable and sparsely populated area in medieval Rome. It was often considered lawless and one chronicler claimed that half of Barbarossa's army died there in 1155 due to natural hazards.

**Goddess Maid** \- An initiate priestess who is currently in training. All Mintharch girls have to go through a period as Goddess Maids in their early teens.

**Mother** \- The Mintharch equivalent of a professional at a particular task. The Mothers assist the Crones in their work. Only two women can hold the position of mother for a particular task at a time.

**Onager** \- A Roman catapult that was used in a weaker form in the Middle Ages. It had a fixed bowl instead of a sling and did not have the range of a trebuchet.

**Solar** \- The medieval equivalent to a large bedroom but could be used for more than sleeping and almost always housed several people.

**Stare Mesto** \- The old merchant city that eventually merged with neighbouring towns to form modern day Prague.

**The Borgo** \- The town in Rome that held St. Peter's. It was a destination of pilgrimage and held made monasteries and even inns to accommodate pilgrims from all social levels.

**Trebuchet** \- A medieval siege engine similar to a catapult but using a sling to carry the projectile instead of a bucket and a counterweight system to increase the force of the throw. Trebuchets were expensive. They had to be custom made for a particular use and could not be built ahead of time in a different location. Cheaper and smaller siege enginges were used if at all possible.

**Woad** \- A plant-derived dye used to make blue before Indigo became easily obtainable in Europe in the Fifteenth Century. Its use was highly regulated due to the potent and caustic smell it produced.

**Weld** \- A plant that was processed to produce a yellow dye that did not run or fade as easily as other alternatives such as honey. It was often combined with woad to make green.

## Chapter 1

The deep and graveled tones of a horn are not something anyone would want to have rupture the silence of a calm and sunny morning.

At first Luitgard was not sure she had heard right. She and two of the young Goddess Maids had been dying fabric in a vat of woad. Pulling down the cloth that had protected her nose from the smell, she listened again.

There was a short but distinctive burst from the horn followed by another and finally a long tone that lasted for as many heartbeats as she had fingers. The thick canopy of the forest dulled the sound slightly but now that she was listening for it there could be no mistake. That day had finally come.

The two girls' eyes were now wide as they stared back at her over their own face coverings. Luitgard told them to remain where they were until someone fetched them. Though she did not say it, she knew there was the chance no one would ever be able to come. If the horn blew, there was no telling of how dire the threat.

She squeezed through the narrow opening in the stones that served as the shack's doorway. The forest was sunny. The chill and dew of the morning had long since burned away in the sun, leaving only a still warmth. Pale blue linens hung on tree branches to dry. A breeze guided the fabrics in an undulating dance.

It seemed strange that the world could remain so serene with serious threats being announced through the air. Though the horn had temporarily silenced the animals, their calls and movements began to return as she ran as best she could through the foliage.

Their actions quelled her fear. If the animals were not still afraid, it meant an army was not likely nearby.

She continued her battle through the brush, cursing the distance around the lake. The horn had just begun to blow again as she emerged from the trees near the northeast corner of the walls.

Her home was a village of just over a hundred people. It was located on a peninsula. A thick stone wall blocked it from the mainland as it stretched from the northeast to the northwest, across the base of the peninsula. This wall was not comprised of several large, grey stones piled together but was a solid mass of sparkling white. No one knew what the material was but they had never needed that knowledge. It had never been in need of repair the entire fifty years it had stood. A popular legend amongst the people held that their founder, Lord Mintharch, had carried the entire structure to the site himself. However, the only two still alive who had helped found the village claimed the wall had been there before they arrived.

Luitgard emerged from the trees. In front of the wall was a wide ditch that followed the length of it. The only way across it was the drawbridge, which was currently closed. Her stomach flipped as her mind entertained the wildest of possibilities to explain it.

She looked around and noted that there indeed was no army laying siege but the horn and the closed drawbridge would not allow her to be comforted by this fact. The blowing stopped when she had been spotted as she approached. Perhaps she would make the horn blower hike the lake three times each day until he learned how long it really took to make the journey.

The drawbridge lowered and the portcullis raised at the same time to allow her entrance. She was barely across the bridge when it began to close once more. She stopped between the two stone gatehouse towers just inside the wall. They cast large shadows over the area and she had to give her eyes a moment to adjust.

Adalbern, the head of the men, was waiting for her. He was not a tall man but neither was he small. Layers of tunic and studded leather armor emphasized that his body was built like a barrel. Even his arms and legs were thick and round. He ate much but he also worked hard. Boys who had trained under him never went to bed without new bruises.

His blue eyes contrasted sharply with his tanned face and brown hair. He wore his hair tied behind his head and his beard long. His hand was resting upon the hilt of the sword tied to his belt.

"Priestess," he said in greeting as he nodded firmly.

"What is going on?" Luitgard asked. "Why was the horn blown?"

"We've had a visitor," he grunted as he nodded to his overly tall nephew.

The man's name was Humbert and though he was thin and only 18, his height and his firm jaw made him look ten years older. He had dark brown hair that looked black in the shade and blue eyes just like Adalbern's. He was always quiet around his uncle but otherwise pleasant and eager to talk. Though he was training to follow in Adalbern's footsteps, one would not have known it now. He was wearing little more than a loose shirt and grey hose. Both were covered in dirt.

He ducked inside one of the guard towers at Adalbern's gesture.

"Has he been wrestling?" Luitgard asked.

Adalbern nodded with the same firmness as his greeting. "We were in the middle of training when the bastard showed up," he said.

Humbert emerged from the tower pushing a sandy-haired man in front of him. The man was half a hand's length taller than Luitgard. She looked down at his robes and her breath caught. There was no mistaking the black fabric.

"You are a Dominican," she gasped. "Does anyone else know where you are?"

His face had been rigid in defiance. Though her question made this facade falter, he refused to answer. His lack of cooperation evoked her anger. He had violated her sanctuary with his presence; the least he could do was answer her.

"How did you find this place?" she pressed.

He said nothing.

She needed answers. "How did you get through the barrier? When did you see the wall?"

His face was regaining its rigidity. "I am a simple friar seeking shelter and God," he said.

"Your kind do not seek god," she seethed. "You seek kingdoms."

"Only the Kingdom of God," he said.

Luitgard examined his expression and flicked her eyes back down to his robes.

"Until we have figured out how you got through our barrier, you will remain in the village," she told him. Turning to Adalbern, she said, "He can walk freely so long as one of your men watches him and he is not allowed outside the walls under any circumstances."

Adalbern nodded firmly once more.

She turned back to the Dominican and pointed to the far side of the village where there stood a two-floored, wood structure overlooking the water. The manor house was where the Goddess Maids trained to be priestesses. It also served as Luitgard's home.

"You can get your food and shelter there tonight," she explained. "Do not pester the ladies or your walking privileges will be revoked."

He nodded.

"Adalbern," she said, "Come with me. We need to discuss what has happened."

Leaving Humbert with the Dominican, she led Adalbern into the primary gatehouse. They climbed the long ladder to the battlements and looked out at the surrounding forests.

"No visible evidence of something wrong," Adalbern said. "Perhaps the barrier is simply weakening?"

Luitgard said nothing. Though possible, she was worried it was much more serious than that.

"Assemble four groups of three men each tomorrow morning," she instructed. "I will send three priestesses for each group. Inspect the entire perimeter of the barrier. If there is any anomaly, no matter how small, I want it fixed and reported back to me."

Adalbern nodded. "The men can use it as forest training, they have not had any in over a week."

"Then see to it that you increase their night sessions in the woods to every week once we figure this out," she ordered.

He nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Just one," she said. "Send Humbert out to the dying hut to fetch the girls and take our guest to the house."

He nodded again before climbing down the ladder. She intended to follow immediately but stopped when she thought she saw in the corner of her eye a variation in the brush. She looked at the spot and thought she could see a woman looking back at her. By the time her eyes adjusted to the distance, the spectre was gone.

Her worry for the safety of her people twisted her stomach into a knot. She silently scolded herself for letting the Dominican's presence rattle her so much. She was having hallucinations because of her uncontrolled fear. She looked over the village to reassure herself that all was well. Everything appeared exactly as it should.

The women in pale yellows were tending the gardens. Those in pale blues were grinding herbs and tending to infants. Several bare chested men just as round as Adalbern were carrying a large tree trunk down a narrow path. They had been working hard for days to build a new storehouse to replace the one that had nearly fallen down from a combination of rot and pests.

Smoke puffed out of the stone chimney of the blacksmith near the manor. The blacksmith was sitting outside, leaning against the wall, as he fanned himself.

Three green-clad priestesses stood aside to allow the men to pass. Luitgard covered her brow with her hand and looked in the direction of the sun. They were late for afternoon lessons again. She looked back at the girls and took note that the girls were Adelina, Dagmar, and Abigail. She sighed as she wondered if Sieglinde would continue to ignore such disobedience from those three.

She turned away from the village and climbed down the ladder. By the time she got to the bottom, Adalbern was already at the manor steps with their unexpected visitor. The Dominican robes made him easily seen amongst the colourful and bright villagers. The fabric that returned no light gave her an uncomfortable shot of cold down her spine.

She hurried up the main path to the house. The large doors had not closed behind Adalbern. She grumbled as she slipped through the opening and pulled them shut. The soft thud of their closing echoed through the central hall.

The square room was large enough to accommodate the village inhabitants in an emergency and not a person more. Even at the height of day, it was dimly lit. There were no light sources but for the central fire and the hole in the middle of the roof to let out the smoke.

Between large support pillars were pale blue drapes covering the openings to the kitchens, the staircase to the upper floor, and several teaching and work rooms. The hall opened to the floor above where there were walkways leading to the solar and more teaching rooms. The floor of the centre of the hall was two steps lower than the rest of the structure.

Luitgard looked around at those in the room. Adalbern was still standing on the hall steps, the Dominican behind him. The Goddess Maids she had seen from the tower were standing in the middle of the room and Sieglinde stood before them.

Sieglinde was only a year younger than Luitgard. She had dusty blonde hair that looked brown when wet, and bright blue eyes. She had always been thin despite her mother's efforts to fatten her as a child. Her bones showed a little too obviously through her skin to give anyone confidence that she was properly nourished. However, Luitgard had seen her eat and knew that while the woman did not eat much, she ate enough to survive.

They had grown up together and been closer than sisters for nearly the entire time. It had surprised no one that the two of them excelled together so that Sieglinde became a High Priestess of the Mintharchs with Luitgard. However, that did not mean Luitgard did not want to throttle Sieglinde regularly.

She whisked passed Adalbern and the Dominican, keeping her eyes upon Sieglinde. The intruder would not interfere with her determination to ensure that their society functioned as intended.

"What punishment have you given these girls," she demanded.

Sieglinde did not move her head but shifted her eyes to Luitgard. "I am dealing with the matter," she said.

Luitgard scoffed. "Telling them not to worry and just try harder next time, are you?" she confirmed.

Sieglinde's eyes focused on one of the random boards in the ceiling. This was an expression with which Luitgard was very familiar.

"Don't you avoid me," Luitgard whispered. "These girls have not arrived to their lessons on time once since their initiation. It is far passed time you did something about it."

"You have your methods, High Priestess, and I have mine," she replied.

Luitgard felt her face redden. Sieglinde only ever called her by her title when mocking her. Of all the times to fight her in the matter, this was not it. For the Goddess' sake, a Catholic was in the room with them.

Though she wanted to rage against her and send the girls away as punishment, she needed to retain the semblance of control. With a conscious breath that did not yield as much control to her as she had hoped, she tried to steady her voice.

"I have my own matters to attend," she said. "Discipline these girls _for once_ and we will discuss this later."

Sieglinde bowed her head in acknowledgement but both of them knew no resolution to the argument had been made.

Luitgard turned back to face Adalbern and the Dominican. The intruder's stance was still defiant but his face appraising. Just as she had feared, he was no idiot.

"Adalbern," she called. "See to assembling those men. I will take our guest to his sleeping space."

Adalbern nodded and left the House.

Luitgard invited the friar to follow her. He did so quickly and silently as she guided him through one set of curtains. She walked down a hallway, ignoring an open door that led to the kitchens to her left, and stopped by an alcove near the corner of the stone wall.

"You may sleep here," she said. "The bread ovens are on the other side of this wall, so you should have no trouble staying warm. There are no clouds, so I expect it will be chilly. We normally let the hunting dogs sleep here but I will have Adalbern keep them with him tonight. The priestesses eat in the hall just after sunset. You may join us for food but you are not to speak to them. Do you understand?"

The friar looked up at her and nodded. He had blue eyes like hers.

"We will figure out what to do with you tomorrow once I know more," she added. "Good day."

She did not wait for his response. She walked back the way she had come, hoping to observe how Sieglinde had chosen to deal with the tardy Goddess Maids. Unfortunately, by the time she returned to the hall, despite only having been a few moments, Sieglinde and the three girls were gone.

Luitgard grumbled to herself as she stomped to the manor doors and pulled them open. Her first chance to discuss discipline with Sieglinde would likely not come until the evening meal. She decided instead to check on the progress of the new storehouse.

After an afternoon of ensuring all was as it should be, Luitgard finally returned to the manor when the sun was red and low in the sky. The storehouse would take another day to be finished but it would be a fine structure complete with a cellar to keep the heat away from their vegetables.

Though she had planned to speak with Sieglinde at the first opportunity, she was now too exhausted and too in need of a bath to care. She no doubt still smelled of woad, for she had not had a chance to change out of her dying clothes.

When she entered the main hall, the Goddess Maids were pulling the tables out from their hiding places behind the curtains on the far wall to set up for the evening meal. The Dominican was nowhere in sight. Luitgard hoped that meant he had not disobeyed her.

She would not have time for a bath before the meal was served, but she could change. Cutting across the hall, she walked to the spiral stairs leading to the second floor. Just before she reached the curtain covering them, the scent of stew wafted by her on a breeze from the kitchens.

She turned to see the Dominican holding the curtain aside. He was a handsome man. He was thin but had broad shoulders. His face had a firm jaw and defined cheek bones. At the moment, his expression was as passive as Roman stone. She did not like that he was so difficult to read.

The Goddess Maids paused in their tasks to look at him. Some whispered to each other.

"Back to your work," Luitgard ordered.

The women complied.

With a curt nod to the Dominican, Luitgard wrenched the nearest curtain aside and ascended the stairs. The top of the stairs opened to the hallway overlooking the hall below. Annoyingly, she saw that the Dominican was still watching her. She forced her eyes forward as she walked to the opposite end of the hall and turned the corner into the solar.

To her surprise, Sieglinde was already there.

"I thought you would still be teaching," Luitgard said as she watched Sieglinde fold several wool blankets and set them into the carved chest at the end of Luitgard's narrow bed.

The chest had been in the solar since it was built. The wood from which it was made was thick and very heavy. Part of the reason Luitgard had inherited the piece was that no one had ever dared try to move it. The other reason was that it had belonged to her grandfather, Dragonfather. On the front of the chest was carved the image of a wyvern perched atop a tower that pushed above the clouds. Every time Luitgard looked at it, she smiled.

Her grandfather had been her closest friend. He understood her better than her parents had. He had taken her to Rome when she was a girl. And when her parents died of a mysterious disease after they returned, it was her grandfather who held her as she cried herself to sleep for weeks on end. She had thought she would never again know such grief but then he disappeared several months later. The painful memory pricked at her. It was one she had managed to suppress. The Dominican's arrival had broken it free.

"I had no one to teach," Sieglinde said.

Luitgard did not like the sound of that. "You should have had at least five girls learning sewing today. What happened to them?"

Sieglinde looked up at her as she closed the lid to the chest. "I disciplined them," she said.

Luitgard raised a brow. Sieglinde and discipline were not normally acquainted. "How exactly did you do that?"

"I sent the three girls home and told them not to return for training until they had learned of the importance of their calling," she said.

Luitgard was impressed. To have such a shame made so obvious to their families would not easily be forgotten. However, she dared not be too hopeful. "What of the others?" she asked as she folded her arms, bracing for the answer.

"I gave them the rest of the afternoon off in reward for attending their lessons on time," she added.

Pressing her lips together, Luitgard narrowed her eyes as she watched Sieglinde walk to the window. Despite the sun being almost fully set, she had left the shutters open. She sat upon the bench beneath it and looked out to the West.

"You are too soft," Luitgard insisted. "We do not get prizes and awards for doing our duty. We work harder."

Sieglinde sighed. "Do you ever tire of such a serious life?" she asked.

Luitgard grunted as she reached for the ornate comb on her table and began to pull it mercilessly through her hair. It had been one of the last gifts her grandfather had given her, saying it had been given to him by a very generous man. The teeth were carved bone and the spine had been inlayed with gold and pearls. "I am not allowed to tire of it," she said. "I have too many people depending on me and so do you."

"Perhaps the arrival of the Dominican is a sign things need to change," Sieglinde suggested.

"If anything," Luitgard replied, "It means we have not been working hard enough."

Sieglinde looked into her eyes and Luitgard's heart nearly broke. They had sparred often over their different views to discipline but neither had taken such talk personally. At this moment, Sieglinde looked as though she had suffered a great loss.

"And if the priestesses find no fault with the barrier?" she asked. "What will we do then? Will we keep him prisoner?"

"Of course," Luitgard replied without hesitation. Was her friend so worried about that man that she would consider risking her own people by letting him go? "We cannot risk their form of conversion finding us," she explained. "We are surrounded by Catholics, Norse, and Sorbs. We survive despite them all only because we remain hidden. It must always be so."

A breeze brushed by Sieglinde's hair and into the room. The two loose locks by her ear danced for only a moment before settling. She looked back out the window. "Trouble is not so easily deceived," she said. Standing, she ran her hands down her green tunic dress to straighten it. "The sun has set," she said. "We cannot be late for the evening meal, not after the example I tried to set today."

Luitgard had gotten so distracted by their conversation, she had forgotten to change. She sniffed her sleeve and nearly wretched at the smell of woad. She had no time now.

She followed Sieglinde back to the hall and hoped she could avoid taking offense at the crinkled noses of those near her.

Two large chairs had been placed at their usual mealtime spots at the table furthest from the main doors. They were for the two High Priestesses. As Luitgard walked up to hers, her eyes fell upon the wyvern carved upon the back of it. It reminded her of happier days.

The rest of the tables had been set so as to complete a square. Each table fit eight Priestesses. Several of the eldest women, sat at the High Priestesses table. Those of childbearing age sat at the two tables nearest. The youngest sat at the table nearest the door.

With three initiates exiled as punishment, there was plenty of space to accommodate their visitor. He sat alone as the remaining initiates huddled at the end of the table furthest from him. A Mintharch knew never to trust an outsider.

When the ladies were all seated, the kitchen helpers emerged from behind one of the curtains carrying trays laden with bowls of stew and plates of bread. None of the women reached for the food placed before them. Instead, they turned to the High Priestesses. Sieglinde stood.

"The blessings of the Great Mother have given us this meal. May the harvest of her work give us health," she said before sitting once more.

The women picked up wooden spoons from the table and began to eat.

As Luitgard lifted a scoop of roots and mutton to her mouth, she saw the Dominican watching her. His eyes were wide. He was not eating but had his hands firmly in his lap. She set her spoon in her bowl and sat back.

"We will not poison you, Dominican," she called. "I promise you that."

He looked at the women. Many were still eating though some had paused to watch the exchange. He looked at the bowl then back at Luitgard. "I do not believe it poisoned," he replied.

"Then why do you not eat?" she asked.

"I thought you were pagans but you pray like Christians," he said.

She gave a great laugh from her belly. Once her laughing had subsided, she said, "We are nothing like your kind, Dominican. There was prayer long before there were Christians."

"Who is your Great Mother if not the Mother of God?" he asked.

She felt no mirth now. She was no longer even hungry. "You know nothing of honouring a Mother," she said. "Now keep your silence or return to your alcove and starve."

He said nothing, but continued to stare at her. She would not be intimidated. She stared back and refused to look away until he had bowed his head to say his own prayer.

The Dominican left the table the moment he was finished eating. Luitgard said nothing as she watched him go. His presence frightened her but her outburst made her realize her fear might be getting the better of her. Though she was often quick to anger, it was not often she showed it. Sieglinde could always tell when it was happening but she was far more skilled than the others and she had known her for years.

The shock and danger that this traveller had brought simply by stumbling upon them had evoked her visible anger several times already. She was beginning to worry if she was becoming an equal threat to her people by not keeping calm. She definitely did not want the Dominican to think she lacked self-control.

After several minutes' thought, she lifted her spoon to her mouth but her appetite refused to return. The women had finished and were turning their attention back to her. She placed her spoon gently in her bowl before standing. She clapped her hands together high above her head.

The priestesses rose to their feet and raised their arms in the air.

"May the Great Goddess shine upon us always," she called. "May she guide our work and aid our harvests. I am of the mother. I am of all that has come before me. With the blessings of the Mother, I thank you for your service. May you always remain unseen."

"May you always remain unseen," replied the others in unison before they lowered their arms.

Luitgard did the same before calling out, "Finish your chores quickly. We will be rising early tomorrow and some of you will be responsible for checking the barrier."

This caused near panic. The priestesses were looking at each other and asking very quickly if their sisters knew anything. Was that why the Dominican was there? Were they all going to be massacred in their beds?

"Enough!" Luitgard yelled.

The room fell silent.

"This inspection is indeed because of the arrival of a Catholic in our midst," she explained. "But it is simply an assurance. We have no other reason to believe the barrier has fallen. One man is hardly worth losing your sleep. Tomorrow, we will inspect the barrier and will deal with whatever we find. Now get control of yourselves and do your chores or I will have to give out punishments."

Several of the Goddess Maids bowed their heads. The older priestesses remained silent but began to gather the bowls and move the benches back to their storage area.

Luitgard felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Sieglinde giving her a weak grin.

"Shall we talk upstairs?" she asked.

Luitgard shook her head. She needed to speak with someone else first; this time with her wits in check.

"I will be there in a few minutes and then we will likely have much to discuss," she said.

Sieglinde nodded and walked to the stairs.

Luitgard looked at the curtain hiding the hall to the kitchens. She would rather be doing chores but there was no choice. She walked to the curtain and pulled it aside and looked over to the alcove.

The Dominican was adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. He looked up at her but said nothing. She noted his skill for silence.

"Our histories say your kind has not been good to us," she said as she moved to stand in front of him.

He said nothing.

"However," she added, "I am not here to judge you in the same way. I have no plan to treat you in such a way and no desire to harm you."

He still said nothing and his eyes refused to waver.

"Unfortunately," she said. "Even if our protections are intact and there is some other method by which you have found us, we cannot simply let you go on your way. The risks to our people are too great. It is likely that you will be staying with us for the rest of your life, however long that may be. Can you live with that, Dominican?"

"If it is the test God has given me," he said.

"Your god holds no sway here," she replied. "You will learn that before long."

"Perhaps that is why I am here," he offered. "To change that."

The anger in her rose up like a shot and she opened her mouth to yell at him. This time, now aware of the effect his presence had upon her, she was able to stop it before saying anything she might regret. She took a deep breath.

"We are a peaceful people," she said with forced evenness. "We have remained so for many years. The only way we have been able to live in peace is to be invisible to your kind. I did not think Catholics believed in the god of the Old Testament but seeing as you think we lack something and all we lack is violence and hatred, you must."

"You know of the Old Testament?" he asked.

Luitgard scoffed. "Of course I do," she said. "My grandfather taught me Latin and had me read it when I was a child. He wanted me to know for myself what Christians believe."

"I believe in the Almighty God," the Dominican stressed. "He has guided me here. It is not mine to question."

"It is mine," she replied.

They stared at each other for many moments. He was still clutching his cuff. There was nothing about this man she wanted to trust. She realized now that she had wanted to talk to him partly to reassure herself but their talk had done little of that. He seemed as stiff and unyielding as the Church itself and all too eager to follow its doctrine blindly.

"Just be sure to keep your god to yourself," she instructed. "Otherwise your time here might be shorter than you expected."

"It is already longer."

"Good night, Dominican." She turned but as she held the curtain aside to leave, his own farewell made her freeze.

"Valete, _Filia Draconis_ ," he said quietly, a slight gravel to his words deepening his voice momentarily.

When her brain had comprehended what he had said, she whirled around to face him.

"What did you just say?" she demanded. She had heard, she had understood, but she refused to believe it was more than hallucination.

"Is that not what you are called?" he asked with a furrowed brow. His tone held none of the same confusion as his eyes.

It was only the second time she had seen him in less than perfect control of himself. Despite her own worry, she felt a faint satisfaction that she was not the only one struggling with the situation. This satisfaction grew into a newfound confidence. Her chest released from its contraction and she was able to breathe and to think once more.

"Not by you, I'm not," she replied. "Who are you?"

He too seemed to have taken the passing moment to regain his mind. His face returned to its former unreadable state.

"A simple friar in search of God," he said.

She wanted to scoff and call him out on his lies but he seemed too well versed in manipulation; a holy man's skill if there ever was one. Open confrontation would likely continue to end in failure. Playing his game seemed a much more intelligent way to learn what she wanted to know.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she pulled her shoulders back and looked down at him. He was still sitting in the same position as when she had arrived. The only muscles that had moved in the last several minutes were those on his face and even those movements had been few and slight.

"I will not have a mouth of evil address me so," she said.

She did not allow him more words, not that he would have offered them anyway. She left immediately, now sure that there was one more stop she had to make before speaking with Sieglinde.

The hall had since been cleaned and deserted. The creak of the large front doors as she opened them pierced the stillness.

The night was already cool. She paused upon the top stair and looked to the sky. It was mostly clear and the stars she could see were bright. Though she could not see the moon itself from where she stood, the light of it faintly illuminated the houses and paths of the village. It was her responsibility to know that it would be a half moon that night; hardly an instructive portent.

She walked swiftly through the paths to one of the many small houses that surrounded the manor. Smoke puffed from the hole in the roof and the gaps around the shutters showed the interior was well lit.

She knocked heavily upon the door and a moment later it opened. Adalbern was still fully dressed from his duties but his eyebrows were raised in surprise as he wiped stew from his beard with a rough hand.

"Has something else happened?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really," she said. "I have some renewed concerns that I am unable to discuss. I wanted to ask you to triple the guard tonight and until we have checked the barrier tomorrow."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't have the men for that much," he said. "You know that. I can manage triple tonight but no extra tomorrow while the others check the barrier. They'll all be blurry eyed at that."

"I will send three of the crones to help tonight," she said.

Adalbern examined her face. "What did that Catholic say to you?" he whispered.

She avoided his eyes at first but knew that no matter what she said, he would not believe her. Finally, she looked back at him. "Something that not even you would know," she said. "I fear there is more to his arrival than a simple accident."

He rubbed his beard again, but this time in contemplation. "I'll oversee the night watch myself," he said.

Though his offer was appreciated, Luitgard felt no relief. She felt as vulnerable as she had in Rome all those years ago. She thanked him anyway and returned to the manor.

When she finally entered the solar after sending the crones to Adalbern, she was surprised to see that Sieglinde was still awake. She had a large tome with beaten and loose pages open upon her bent knees. She was sitting beneath the window with her feet on the bench. She waved but did not look up or speak when Luitgard entered.

"What are you reading?" Luitgard asked.

Sieglinde turned the page. Her brow furrowed, the bridge of her nose scrunching almost into a knot. "This hardly helps," she said, annoyed. She examined the page, front and back, one more time before shutting the book with a great thwap.

She turned to lower her feet from the bench and set the book down beside her. Taking a breath, she looked up. "I was reading over the old histories," she said. "Something about that friar made me think I should."

"And?" Luitgard asked.

"Nothing to tell," she said, "Nothing both of us don't already know and nothing that would relate to him."

"Anything that would relate to Dragonfather?" Luitgard asked without explaining why.

Sieglinde stopped blinking. Luitgard could not even be sure she was still breathing. She could not blame her. Luitgard's grandfather had disappeared, likely died, eleven years before, not long after they had returned from Rome. Her endearing name for him had never been uttered since. No one but Sieglinde had ever known his name for Luitgard until the Dominican arrived.

Sieglinde's shoulders rose and fell rapidly. In a moment, she would be overtly hyperventilating. "What did he say to you?" she asked, forcing her shoulders still and her chin up but failing to look confident.

"Valete, _Filia Draconis_ ," she replied.

Sieglinde's eyes darted from spot to spot on the floor as if the imperfections in the aged wood would give her answers. "Where could he have learned that name? Could your grandfather be alive? Could they have tortured him into revealing us to the Church?" she asked.

Luitgard walked to her friend and helped her to her feet. She looked into Sieglinde's wild eyes then hugged her tightly to calm her. As she stroked Sieglinde's hair, she said, "I don't know but we must keep watching him. We must know how he learned of these things. Whatever happened to Dragonfather, I think we will soon know the truth."

## Chapter 2

Though Luitgard and Sieglinde had both rested, neither of them had slept. They did not talk either. They both lay on their backs, staring at the wooden beams supporting the roof.

The morning had taken far too long to come as it was, so they did not delay in rising and dressing as soon as the first light of the sun peaked through the shutter gaps.

Once dressed, Luitgard opened the shutters and looked up at the sky. A wisp of cloud coiled making it look very much like a wyvern. The reminder of the dragon both comforted and saddened her.

They agreed that Sieglinde would stand watch over the village with Adalbern while Luitgard helped the priestesses check the barrier. She had made the decision while the Dominican's words echoed in her head in the middle of the night. The barrier was too important. She had to see for herself.

She and Sieglinde finalized the plan for the barrier: what would be needed, if anything; how the task would be handled; how the groups would signal impending trouble; and what would happen if the groups never returned. They were so thorough that by the time they entered the Great Hall the priestesses and Goddess Maids, including the three tardy girls from the day before, were standing dutifully at the tables and awaiting the morning meal.

"We will not have morning ritual today," Luitgard called as she walked to the entrance. "Grab what food you can carry without hindrance for that is the only food you will get until we know that barrier is flawless."

The priestesses looked at each other in confusion. There had been much out of the ordinary happening. This would be the first time they did not have a morning ritual and breakfast. Luitgard knew some of them would be disgruntled when their shock dissipated. It could not be helped. Some days even nutrition and routine were not important.

The women grabbed rolls and chunks of cheese as they scrambled to follow Luitgard, who had not slowed for them. She was already at the doors and had swung them open before the last of the girls had comprehended what was happening.

She walked briskly to the gates where Adalbern was already waiting with the dozen men assigned to the task. He had not been exaggerating. Every last man had dark circles under his eyes. They looked too tired to be mutinous. Humbert, who was among them, held a thin pole as long as his own height and appeared to be using it for support.

"These are the men who can still stand upright," Adalbern explained.

She gestured at Humbert with her chin. "And him?" she asked.

"Insisted," Adalbern replied. "He refused to let Anselm take the risk so long as Lara's pregnant."

Looking over the sleepy contingent once more, she felt her fear strengthen. They were not a warring people, no matter how they had trained the men.

"Perhaps we will need to add endurance and sleep deprivation to their training from now on," she suggested.

Now, several of the men did look mutinous. Adalbern nodded firmly in agreement. "Very right," he said; the pragmatic man as always.

Luitgard did not like putting them through so much but she knew how harsh the Church could be to those who did not bow to it. Forcing discomfort upon them seemed a small price for their safety.

The men's anger was short-lived anyway as Sieglinde arrived with arms full of fresh rolls. She handed the first to Humbert.

"Divide them into four groups of three," Luitgard instructed Adalbern. As he did so, she turned to her priestesses and picked a goddess maid, a mother, and a crone for each group. She then paired the trios of women with trios of men until there were four groups of six. She then sent one group to inspect the barrier of the North, one to the East, and another to the West. Those not tending the barrier were to keep watch over the village.

She joined the group that would be inspecting the South, the direction from which the friar had arrived. The men in that group were Humbert and two brothers named Dieter and Burkhard. They were only a couple of years older than Humbert but much shorter and both blonde with blue eyes. The women were comprised of Adelina, a Goddess Maid; Hiltraud, a Mother of Healing; and Oda, Crone of the Apothecary.

Adelina was twelve years old but small for her age. She had dark blond hair and green eyes. Hiltraud was shorter than Luitgard, though by very little. Her hair was a shade darker than Adelina's and her eyes were blue. Oda was the oldest of the Mintharch people. She had great wisdom, being only one of two still alive who remembered life amongst Christians before the founding of the village. Due to decades of being hunched over a mortar and pestle, she had a pronounced hump. She could not move quickly but her talents with the energies made her contribution essential for their task of checking the barrier. All the women in the group had some form of blood relation but none of it was recognized. Theirs was a matrilineal society and all their connections to Oda were through the men. Despite Oda's sprawling bloodline, only five people alive claimed her as a relation; Sieglinde being one of them. She was Oda's great granddaughter.

Before Luitgard allowed the groups to set on their way, she sent Oda to fetch four pots of their protective herb blend. Several minutes later, Oda returned with pots full of a mixture of powdered chamomile, holly, and mistletoe and handed one to each of the other crones.

When they were set, the drawbridge was lowered and the small groups scattered in their respective directions. Luitgard lead her group to the South, with Humbert keeping stride with her.

The day was beginning to warm noticeably by the time Luitgard's group had made it through the brush to the edge of the barrier.

The three priestesses immediately went to work. They followed the markers in intervals of three paces along the perimeter of the barrier. They stopped at each one and checked that they were still where they were meant to be. There were charms secured to grasses, woad-dyed prayer cloths tied to tree branches, rune-carved stakes that had been hammered into the ground, and−at the exact cardinal direction−a small, weathered statue.

The stone of the figure was mostly covered in moss and dirt. The winds had spent years beating the surface so that it was pockmarked and the features were no longer clearly visible. It had once looked like a squatting, naked woman, her arms wrapped around her legs, her hands resting on her ankles. As Luitgard stared at it, she thought it now looked as those the woman's head grew out of the tops of her knees. In fact, it looked more like a troll than a woman.

The tinkle of a bell broke her focus from the statue. She looked up to see Oda shuffling along the line of charms, ringing a small golden bell as she passed each one. Luitgard let out a long breath. It was a good sign. The woman had found nothing wrong yet.

She looked around at the three men that had joined them. Unlike the women, they were not looking at the barrier. Their eyes were flicking through the brush beyond it, trying to watch for danger.

"Humbert," she said. "I intend to check each charm myself. Stay here and call me if you see anything strange."

He nodded.

She then followed the other women in checking each charm. The goddess maid checked that the physical charms remained. The mother scattered the powdered herbs as she walked from each charm to the next, placing an extra sprinkle over the charms themselves. Luitgard and the crone checked to see that the physical trinkets were indeed still charms. At each one, Luitgard rested her hand upon the object and closed her eyes as she tried to block out anything that would distract her. She searched for the familiar tingle in her hand. Within seconds it materialized and she withdrew her hand to continue to the next marker.

It took her longer to check each one than it did the others. Sometimes it was because she had trouble focusing, sometimes because she wanted to double or triple check a marker. As the sun crossed the sky, the others were far ahead of her. She could still see them working their way through the vegetation but would have had to yell for them to hear her call.

She came to the next marker, a small gold bell, and wrapped her hand around it. She closed her eyes and felt for its power. As with all the others, it was intact. A warm breeze blew through her hair sending a chill down her spine. When she took in a deep breath with her eyes still closed, she noticed a sweet smell. It was much like a sweet flower but not one she had ever encountered.

She opened her eyes to look for the source, hoping that maybe she could harvest a few and test their properties for elixirs but standing several feet before her was a dark-haired woman with deep brown eyes. She was wearing a long dress the kind of which Luitgard had only seen upon the ancient statues of Rome.

Luitgard blinked and the woman before her was gone. She looked around, hoping to see where the woman went, not convinced she would see anything at all.

Her fingers fell from the tiny bell. First the Dominican arrived and then she was starting to see ghosts.

It took several minutes of steady breathing for Luitgard to calm her mind enough to continue. She was not sure if this strange woman's presence was evidence that the barrier was indeed flawed in some way, or if it was the Goddess herself offering protection and comfort.

Luitgard moved her right foot in front of her, following it with her left. She had to focus upon the pattern to get herself to the next marker. She placed her hand upon the knot of the small blue ribbon and closed her eyes, trying to force out all thoughts and emotions that did not come from the marker itself.

The barrier was large enough that checking it took the entire morning and part of the afternoon. When they returned to the statue, Luitgard stood before it. The weathered lump looked nothing like the woman she had seen. The comparison did little to sort her thoughts. She crouched down and placed both hands upon the top of the head and closed her eyes.

"Mother, may your strength and your wisdom continue to keep us safe. Stand guard as our protector always," she said before standing and turning to the others. "Let us return. I would like to hear what the others have discovered."

The group walked back to the village but their progress was slower than it had been that morning. The women's feet were tired from their work and Humbert looked as though his spirit had left his body that now walked empty upon the earth.

It was only an hour before the evening meal by the time they returned. The East and West groups had also returned but the North group had not yet made it back. Luitgard had hoped to know immediately of all the results but the North was the farthest walk from the village gates as it required walking around the western side of the lake to reach. She could understand that they would be the last, even if her impatience to know the truth growled angrily inside her chest. After ordering Humbert to bed, she gathered the women into the hall of the manor.

"What can you tell me?" she asked.

Each woman reported exactly what she had seen in the south. The barrier was untouched and as strong as it had always been. She thanked them for their help and dismissed them, feeling no more reassured than she had that morning. The image of the strange woman was still burned into her mind.

This woman and the Dominican had to be connected. Otherwise the events of the last day and a half made no sense. He should not be able to see them. He should not have been able to get close to the manor. If those checking the North reported the same, and she was quite sure they would as the friar had come from the South, then she could not blame a failure in the barrier. The only clue left was the strange woman.

She looked over to the curtains that hid the Dominican's sleeping space. Could there have been something about him that had allowed it to happen? She shook her head. It must be the woman; perhaps the Goddess herself had let him into their world. But why would she ever have done that?

"Are you alright?"

Luitgard turned to see Sieglinde just emerging from the staircase. She nodded to her fellow priestess. She was too confused about the woman to mention her to Sieglinde. She needed a few more hours of churning it over in her head before she was ready to share her experience.

"Have you thought more about what you plan to do with him?" Sieglinde asked as she stopped by Luitgard's side.

Luitgard looked back at the curtains.

"Whatever you decide," Sieglinde said, "It is clear things will not be the same around here."

Luitgard nodded.

Sieglinde walked to the doors of the hall. She opened one just enough to walk through and paused.

"Luitgard, the others have returned," she called back.

Luitgard quickly followed her to the door, which Sieglinde opened wide.

The three women were walking towards the manor looking exactly as the others had. Their shoulders slumped with exhaustion but their faces did not show significant worry.

As Luitgard watched them approach, she realized she wanted them to have found something amiss. She wanted a simple answer to their problem. She wanted it to be easily fixed so that they could return to normal life.

"What did you find?" she called to them.

Gerhild, the crone of the group and a twig of a woman with grey hair and large jowls, looked up. "Nothing, my priestess," she said. "Every marker was exactly as it should have been. The northern barrier is intact."

Luitgard's heart sank but she smiled at the women. "Thank you, you may clean yourselves before the evening meal. You have kept us safe," she said with a smile. None of her words came from her heart. Her mouth moved out of duty and habit.

When they had gone to their homes to clean themselves, her mind returned to the Dominican and the woman. As she had no idea who the woman was or how to contact her, there was only one option left her.

Taking a deep breath, she walked across the hall and pushed through the curtains near the kitchen.

The Dominican was lying in the alcove in the wall. She could see that he was not asleep. His eyes were focused upon the stones above him; his hands clasped over his stomach.

"Now that you have found nothing," he said not moving to look at her, "Will you let me go?"

"I already told you that would not be possible," she said. "Our defenses are whole. The question of how you came here now lies with you. How did you find us?"

"You already know that I simply stumbled upon your people," he replied.

He was still not moving but she saw his fingers tense.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You already know," he said. "Did we not have this conversation last night?"

She scoffed.

One of the kitchen girls pushed through the curtains, nearly knocking into her as she headed for the kitchens.

"I am so sorry, my priestess!" The girl squeaked.

Luitgard waved her away. "Hurry away now, Ann, and I will say nothing of it," she said.

"Anna," the girl whispered before doing as she was told and escaping through the door into the kitchens.

Lowering her voice, Luitgard returned to her conversation with the Dominican. "I hardly think you evading my questions could be considered a conversation. How did you learn of the name you called me? How did you get here? If you do not start answering me, I might just kill you out of frustration."

He turned his head just enough to look at her. "And God will send you to Hell for it," he said.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. "Do you think your god would welcome me even if I did not?" she asked. "Do you think I would accept such an offer even if he did? Your ways are not our ways, Dominican."

He looked back at the stones above him. "I set out in search of the truth God would have me know," he said. "Finding a village of pagans was not what I was hoping he would show me."

"I thought your kind loved pagans," she said. "You love to seek them out. You love to convert them. You love to kill them."

"I have never killed," he said sharply.

She scoffed again. "Your church has and that is close enough."

When he said nothing, she walked over to the wall by his feet and rested her shoulder against it.

"Perhaps your god has a better sense of humour than you do," she reasoned. "Perhaps we are the truth he wanted you to see."

"Or the truth the Church wanted me to see," he said. There was an edge of bitterness to his tone that made her uncomfortable. Her shoulders felt as though the blood was rushing from them into the tips of her fingers.

"The Church should have no idea we exist," she said. "We would not still be alive if they knew about us being here."

His hands fell loosely to his sides and he let out a large breath. After another moment, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the sleeping space to rest his feet on the floor. He stared at the space between them for another moment before looking up at her. He looked right into her eyes.

"I did not believe you existed," he said, "But if I were to return to tell them what I have found, I doubt they would be surprised."

"Tell me why," she said. She was firm but at that moment she felt sorry for him. Had he been an unknowing tool of the Church? Had his life been sacrificed so easily by the same institution to which he had devoted himself?

"They sent me here," he said. "They told me to travel this way to find the truth of God. When I had found it, I was to return to them and share what I had learned."

As terrifying as it was that the Church might be looking for her people, what he said did not sound right. There had to have been more. Sending some priest into the Spreewald would not have resulted in them being found and she was sure the Church knew it. There had been many who had travelled the area without ever penetrating their protections.

"Why you?" she asked.

He stared at her for a moment. His body was still. "I don't know," he said.

"And they are the ones that gave you the name you used last night?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Then where did you learn it?" she pressed.

He looked back at the floor. "Only an old mentor," he said.

Her body tensed once more. She had thought they were finally making progress, that he was finally willing to open up to her. As quickly as he had begun to share openly, he shut his thoughts away again.

"This information changes nothing, you realize," she said finally. "You will have to remain in the village. We cannot risk you telling them about us. We will feed you and house you but you will be required to help with the chores and to keep your religion to yourself."

He nodded without looking at her.

"You may continue to sleep here and eat in the hall for now," she said. "However, it is unusual for men to eat in this hall and sleep in the manor. We will try to make other arrangements for you but it might take a few days."

He nodded again.

"I will see you at the evening meal," she said in farewell before turning and walking back through the curtains. He said nothing in reply.

Later that night, Luitgard stared at the large beams holding the roof over her bed. They were cast in shadow but she had been staring so long at them, that she could see their outlines clearly.

The evening meal had been uneventful. The word had quickly spread that the barrier was intact and this had calmed all the Goddess Maids and priestesses greatly. Despite the Dominican's presence, the women seemed to feel the news about the barrier meant life was normal once more. Luitgard wished she could feel the same but she knew denial was the least effective protection.

"Are you ever going to tell me what has you so bothered?" Sieglinde called quietly from her bed.

Luitgard was jolted by her voice. She had not been aware that Sieglinde was awake. "You don't think the Dominican is enough to be worried about?" she asked without looking over.

She heard the creaking of the bed and the rustling of the blanket as Sieglinde turned over. When her friend spoke again, her voice was clearer and sounded closer. "Despite our good news today, you were very distant at the evening meal. You have become so trapped in your own thoughts that the only one who hasn't noticed is you."

Luitgard sighed. "I have noticed," she said. "But you are right. There is something else."

She then described exactly what had happened along the southern barrier. When she was finished, she waited for Sieglinde to say something.

"Have you had visions of this kind before?" she asked finally.

"I might have glimpsed her on the wall yesterday," Luitgard replied, "But I cannot be sure of that."

"And when you were a child?" Sieglinde pressed.

Luitgard's mind flashed back to the statues of Rome. A particularly beautiful bronze angel with arms outstretched in welcome stood out in her mind. There were similarities. "I never saw ghosts or visions," she said. "But there are many statues in Rome that looked like her. Perhaps my stress has simply resurrected old memories."

"You say that as if such a thought is comforting," Sieglinde said.

Luitgard was confused. "Should it not be?" she asked. "It would simplify matters."

"Except that the Dominican called you by a name that also resurrected old memories."

Luitgard had to admit that she had never considered the situation that way. "Do you think this all has something to do with when Dragonfather took me to Rome?"

"I think it would be foolish to think otherwise," Sieglinde replied. "If nothing else, it means that trip did not end when you two returned home."

Luitgard's body went cold. "If you are right," she said. "Then there is only one thing I can do to resolve this."

"What is that?" Sieglinde asked.

"Go back to Rome."

Sieglinde sat up in her bed. It creaked and groaned under her movements. "Have you lost your mind? That is the last thing you need to do. You could be killed if you returned to Rome without Dragonfather."

"I would take the Dominican with me," Luitgard reasoned.

"And that is an even more insane idea than you going alone. The Church will recognize him and if they deliberately sent him to find us, they will know who you are and know they were right."

"What if they already know they are right?"

"Then they would have sent an army by now. Think this through, Luitgard. Keeping that man here and letting this remain a mystery would be far safer than what you are proposing."

"And what of Dragonfather? What ever happened to him? Maybe he is alive. Maybe he is in Rome. Maybe they are torturing him right now to get information from him. How do you think they knew to send that man here in the first place?"

Their words had become so heated that they had been near yelling but with Luitgard's last question, the room felt ear-piercingly silent.

After a moment, Sieglinde whispered, "Think about what you are suggesting. Even if your grandfather did not die when he disappeared, he would be nearly 80 years old by now. He would be a frail man. Even if they had captured him, even if that is how they learned where to find us, he would have died under torture."

"You do not know that," Luitgard said, realizing as her words came out that she sounded like a spoiled child.

"I know he would never want you to risk the safety of our people to save a life that would have been near its end anyway." Sieglinde's voice was soft with compassion and she spoke with reason, but Luitgard could not find any part within herself that agreed. She needed to know what was going on or she would never feel confidence in their safety again. She needed to find Dragonfather and her only clue to his whereabouts was Rome. Somehow she needed to get back there, whether Sieglinde consented or not.

## Chapter 3

Still lacking for sleep, Luitgard rose with the sun the next morning and dressed quickly. She hurried to the alcove to speak with the Dominican. When she pulled back the curtain, she found that he was not there and after confirming that he was nowhere else in the hall, she went outside to look for him.

Adalbern was already up and giving instructions to a group of builders about what they would work on next for the storehouse. The previous day's work with the barrier had occupied so many that little progress had been made.

When Adalbern saw her searching expression, he called, "The friar's around the back of the manor."

She nodded in acknowledgement and thanks before turning to walk in the indicated direction. Along the shore behind the manor, she found the Dominican kneeling with his palms pressed together in front of his face.

"I thank you for finding a place in private to do that," she said as she walked up beside him.

Without lowering his hands, he looked up at her. "There were too many girls walking in and out of the kitchens," he said. "In the interest of preserving my own life, I came here."

"A wise decision," she said as she looked out over the water. It was early enough that the surface had not been disturbed by animals and a mist hung low over it. She remembered sitting upon the shore one morning snuggled into the side of her Dragonfather. It had been the morning after her parents had died. He had let her cry the night and to cheer her up he told her stories about dragons as if they were real.

"Did you wish to discuss something with me or may I return to my prayers?" the Dominican asked.

His question brought her out of a reverie she had not noticed entering. "Yes, I did wish to speak with you," she said. "I hope you can offer me more help than you have until now."

"I can only offer my best," he said.

"By the Great Mother, tell me that is not what you have been giving me so far."

His face did not change. "What is it you wanted from me this morning?"

"What would you do if you could return to Rome?" she asked.

He blinked. "Are you offering that as an option?"

"You presume much," she replied. "And you did not answer my question."

His eyes and his hands lowered as he seemed to consider for a moment. "I am not sure," he said.

"Would you tell your superiors what they wanted to know?" she pressed. "Would you tell them about us, thereby risking the lives of all those here simply to satisfy the lust of conquest of your god?"

"My God does not want conquest," he said.

"Surely even you are not foolish enough to believe that."

"Perhaps I am."

He was very good at avoiding questions; a quality that would easily help one climb the hierarchy of the Church. But did he have the ambition for it? Was he as innocent as he seemed or tricking her to create his own glory? Bringing her back as a prize would likely be a grand payment for a higher office.

Was that what he was doing? Had it even been he who had taken pleasure in torturing Dragonfather?

"You need to figure out what you would do if you returned to Rome," she said. "Until then, you can assist the men in completing the storehouse. The rest of your prayers will have to wait until later."

He nodded, climbed to his feet, and left. As she watched him walk around the corner of the building, she saw Sieglinde standing there. She had been watching them.

"Do you need anything?" Luitgard called, trying to sound natural.

Sieglinde approached, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so. "I know you are still considering returning to Rome," she said. "That's why you asked him that."

Luitgard looked away, forcing her eyes to focus upon a goose that had just landed on the lake. The ripples of its landing reached out and broke the stillness all the way to the shore. "It is nice to know you feel you must spy on me," she said.

"If it means saving you and our people from your emotions, I will do what I must," Sieglinde replied, her tone as devoid of remorse as her words. "You would do nothing less. In fact, you would likely tie me to my bed if I ever suggested going to Rome and you know deep down that I am right."

But that was the problem. No matter how logical Sieglinde was being, deep down Luitgard did not know she was right. Everything within her told her that Sieglinde was wrong. And if the Dominican could arrive at their gates, what was stopping the army of an empire?

Though the lack of such an army supported Sieglinde's view, Luitgard could not be sure. Until she was, she would feel such an army really was out there waiting to attack.

"I need to check in with the men on the walls," Luitgard said, both as an excuse to get away from Sieglinde's scrutiny and because she planned to reassure herself that such a threat was not outside the walls.

Sieglinde gave a weak smile and nodded. "I will see you at the morning meal," she said before turning and walking back the way she had come.

Luitgard waited several moments to give her a head start before walking that way herself. When she turned the corner of the manor, she saw Adalbern instructing several shirtless men where to place the next large log.

One of the men was not shirtless. The Dominican, in his black robes, had his end of the log hoisted onto his shoulder. To Luitgard's surprise, he did not appear to be struggling under the weight. Perhaps he would be useful after all.

She walked by Adalbern with a curt nod of acknowledgement and headed to the gates. She walked by several priestesses who were heading to the manor for the morning meal. She too would need to hurry.

She climbed the ladder to the wall and greeted Humbert who was standing at the top.

He nodded to her. "Nothing amiss this morning, my Priestess," he said. He waved to the man at the opposite end of the wall from him. The man nodded and turned the spear he was holding upside down so that the point was pressed against the stone at his feet. That was the signal for no trouble.

"Thank you, Humbert," she said. "I appreciate you working so hard."

He beamed at her. "I have been taught well," he said in his deep voice.

"If you do not mind, I would like to stay up here a few minutes."

He nodded. "Take as much time as you would like."

She walked to the middle of the wall, and looked into the forest. More specifically, she looked to the same spot where she had glimpsed the strange woman two days earlier. There was no sign of her now.

Luitgard could not help but feel disappointed. Her mind craved new information to explain the old. With no new developments, her thoughts remained on their circular path.

She said farewell to Humbert and climbed down the ladder. By the time she was walking back to the manor, the village was nearly fully alive with people. Sieglinde hurried by her with fresh rolls in her hands and muttered something about being at the morning meal shortly.

At the base of the stairs, Adelina was folding several un-dyed linens and placing them into a neat pile.

"What are you doing?" Luitgard asked. "You will be late for the morning meal."

Adelina jumped and looked up at her. "Sorry, my Priestess. I was just getting these ready for dying today. Is that not what we will be doing?"

The reminder of her normal tasks dazed Luitgard for a moment. She had to gather her thoughts and recall what it was she was supposed to be doing. After another hesitation, she said, "Yes, of course." To cover her fault, she added, "I just think it might be better to do that after the meal so that we are not late."

Adelina nodded. "Yes, of course, my Priestess."

Adelina tossed the cloth she was holding onto the pile and ran up the steps to the hall. Luitgard followed, wondering how she could ever leave the village without anyone noticing.

## Chapter 4

After the morning meal, Luitgard changed quickly into her dying clothes and grabbed the cloth she would use to protect her nose from the smell. She met Adelina and another Goddess Maid named Flora near the pile of folded linens. She deliberately avoided looking over at the work on the storehouse.

"We need to stop by the apothecary to fetch a new brick of woad," Luitgard instructed. "Pick up the linens and follow me."

She immediately began to walk to the apothecary while Flora and Adelina rushed to pick up the folded linens. Flora nearly dropped them in her hurry to catch up but Luitgard pretended not to notice. With her heart in such turmoil, she could not bring herself to pick on the girl.

At the apothecary, Oda directed Luitgard and Adelina to several large bricks on a shelf and wrapped in fabric.

"We are getting low on our supplies of woad," Oda said. "Only five bricks left. The weather has been too hot and humid for the leaves to dry and ferment just right. I hope you won't need much more."

Luitgard shook her head. "Only a few tapestries today," she said. "We will need another brick tomorrow and some weld for dying several robes but then we should be done with it for a while."

They said farewell to Oda and began their trek to the dying hut.

The sun had burned the mists from the lake and the morning was already beginning to feel warmer. Part way to the shack, Luitgard felt a chill and looked up to the northwest. Light grey clouds were in the distance. She doubted there would be rain, but the warmth of the morning would likely be a false promise for the afternoon.

When they reached the small shack, Luitgard instructed the girls to set the linens down inside and then to get several logs and kindling from the wood piled against one of the outside walls.

Luitgard went inside. There was a large metal vat that took up most of the room. Beneath it were the remnants of the last fire they had used.

She looked into the vat. It was a third full with the water that remained from her work of two days before. She looked for the wood buckets that should have been stacked in the corner but they were missing. Her question of where they had gone was answers when Flora came in with an arm full of logs followed by Adelina with two buckets full of kindling.

"They were out by the wood pile," Adelina explained.

"Thank you, Adelina," Luitgard said.

The two girls went to the lake to fill the buckets while Luitgard grabbed a tattered broom that was leaning in the corner and began to sweep the ash out from under the vat. As she used the broom to pull the peppered and crumbling piles loose, she noticed some of the ash falling through a crack in the stone. It followed the length of the stone as it went under the grate that held up the vat. Getting on her hands and knees, she tried to look underneath to see if the stone was beginning to crumble and needed replacing. While most of the stone appeared to be intact, the crack led to a large gap that had crumbled away. The stone indeed would need replacing. Luitgard grumbled to herself as she climbed back to her feet and Adelina and Flora returned with the first of the buckets of water.

Luitgard jammed more logs and kindling beneath the grate, hoping they would not simply fall down the hole. She did not light the fire, however, leaving that task to Adelina and Flora after they had filled the vat to Luitgard's liking. She watched as they worked, instructing them only when they made mistakes.

When the water in the vat was very warm but not yet scalding, Luitgard covered her face and added the brick of woad before using a large branch to stir the mixture. She kept an eye on the fire to ensure the pot did not get too hot. After several more minutes, she stirred the mixture again and then dipped a finger into the warm liquid. When she withdrew it, she rubbed her fingers together and then pulled down her face covering so that she could press her finger to her tongue.

"Do as I do," she instructed the girls.

Each girl dipped her finger in the vat before pressing it to her tongue.

"It is not pungent enough yet," Luitgard explained. "We will give it a few more minutes."

She continued to stir the liquid. When the fire appeared to be growing too weak, she would beckon for Adelina or Flora to put another log on it.

Finally, she was sure there was a slight twist in the smell. She reached in with her finger once more. When she rubbed her fingers together, they slipped nicely. When she placed a coated finger on her tongue, she nearly coughed.

"Try once more," she said to the girls.

They copied her motions exactly and when they placed their fingers on their tongues, they both nearly gagged. Adelina spit onto the floor.

"Remember the difference," Luitgard explained. "It is ready now. If you want an even dye that will last, always do that test first."

The girls nodded as they tried to recover themselves from the flavour.

Luitgard let the girls dye the linens for the practice. When each was done, she would take them outside to dry in the trees.

The clouds were nearly over the lake but had yet to block out the southern sun. Luitgard kept an eye on them just in case her assumptions were proving wrong and they developed into a storm.

As she tried to secure a linen over a low lying branch, it slipped from her fingers and onto the ground. She cursed as she reached down to grab the now dirt covered blue fabric. As she moved her fingers to the corners to shake it out, she looked up.

Half an arm's length in front of her stood the woman.

Luitgard swallowed as she stared into the dark eyes. The woman did not move or speak. She was holding a dagger in one hand. Even from her distance, Luitgard could see the white wyvern carved into the handle. Her Dragonfather's dagger.

Luitgard swallowed again. "What do you want?" she asked. "How did you get inside the barrier?"

Within a blink, the woman had the flat of the blade pressed against Luitgard's cheek and her free hand tightly grasping Luitgard's chin. The soaked and dirty fabric quietly thwumped as it fell to the ground.

Their noses were nearly touching. Luitgard's heart was trying to run away from both of them. She had never been more frightened in her life. Even if she had wanted to speak or to run, she could not while in the firm grip. As much as she and Sieglinde had called this vision a ghost, her touch was entirely solid.

In one continuous motion, the woman moved to wrap one arm around Luitgard's shoulders even as she pressed her own cheek to Luitgard's. Then the woman lifted the dagger and pointed it to the south.

Luitgard's ability to speak seemed to have returned. "What do you want from me?"

The woman pressed her lips to Luitgard's ear. "Dragonfather," she whispered, the movement of her lips tickling Luitgard's flesh. "Rome," she whispered.

A second later, Luitgard felt the pressure on her shoulders and her face lifted. She had not even had time to demand answers before the woman had disappeared. And just as before, no matter how hard she looked at the forest around her, there was no sign of the woman.

Luitgard looked down at the sopping fabric at her feet. She blinked several times, not really caring about what she was seeing. It was not until Flora came out of the hut looking for her that she realized she should pick it up.

The rest of the afternoon was a haze. Luitgard was unaware of most of it and the rest felt like a dream. Her chest was tight from her earlier fear and there was an empty feeling in her guts that had little to do with food.

They finished the dying, cleaned up their work space, and headed back to the manor the in late afternoon. She had been right that the clouds were a false menace. They had since moved on and the sun revealed itself once more.

By the time they reached the gates, her body was as tired as her mind. Adelina and Flora looked much the same.

Any other day, she would have given them some other chore to pass the time before the evening meal but her rattled nerves were making her sympathetic. She instructed them that after they had cleaned and changed, they could spend the time as they wished. Both girls looked surprised but were smart enough not to argue. They hurried ahead to the manor so that they would waste none of the precious time they had been given.

Luitgard walked the path slowly. The weight of her concerns did not allow for the gleeful bounding she had just witnessed from the two girls. She looked around at the village as she walked. The familiar activity was unable to penetrate her mind; it gave her no comfort.

One of the Mothers of Children was scolding a small boy who had just hit one of the girls. Sieglinde's father, Kaspar, was chopping wood. As she walked closer to the manor, she saw that the storehouse had been erected. Two shirtless men were working on the final touches of the roof.

Luitgard stopped. One of the shirtless men, broad shouldered with defined muscles glistening in the sun, was not wearing the same leggings as the other. A black robe was tied at his waist. The Dominican rubbed his arm across his forehead to remove the sweat before readjusting the thatch he had just placed.

"Not a bad looking man when you get him out of the robes."

Luitgard jumped. She had not noticed that Adalbern had walk up next to her. He was smiling broadly.

"I was just surprised to see him working so hard," Luitgard reasoned. The tingling under her skin belied her words.

Adalbern's smile did not diminish. "Of course," he said, then added, "His name's Justin," before walking towards the storehouse.

"When you've got that thatch placed," he called up to the Dominican and the other man, "You can go find yourselves some water and bread."

Luitgard stared at the shirtless friar. She had not realized she had not yet learned his name. As he turned back to his work, he seemed to notice her looking at him. He nodded to her. She nodded back feeling just as embarrassed as when Adalbern had snuck up on her. Staring at the ground, she hurried into the manor.

Sieglinde was busy teaching a lesson on the moon cycles in one of the upstairs classrooms. Though Luitgard had wanted to share with her what had happened, she thought better of it and headed to her room to fetch a clean dress.

She needed to clean herself properly and the small bowl of water in her room would be entirely insufficient. Instead, she grabbed her soap, a square of un-dyed linen, and a clean gown before hurrying outside.

Near the edge of one of the tall alder post walls of the manor, there was a portion of shore well hidden behind several large bushes. Many of the people went there to wash when a more thorough bath was needed and it was warm enough. Though she had expected to find Adelina and Flora there as well, the spot was deserted when she arrived.

She set her things down gently in the grass before pulling off her dying clothes. She walked into the chilly water, stopping at her ankles, then her knees, then her thighs before finally submerging her entire body.

The water and soap washed away more than just the smell of woad. Her fear from the strange encounter flowed from her skin as well. Her mind recalled as many details as it could of the event and yet she felt entirely calm about it. It felt premature to assume the Goddess herself was trying to guide her. She had no real way of knowing who the woman was. And yet, such an assessment wrapped her in comfort.

Luitgard stretched out in the water, being careful to stay close to shore. Further out were a line of submerged spikes that had been placed to prevent any intrusion or attack coming from the water. She let her body float as she looked up at the sky.

She had never expected to return to Rome. She had never wanted to. What Dragonfather had shown her as a girl was enough. Stay away from the world ruled by Churches, he had warned. He had told her how they wanted nothing more than conquest and death. Now, as so many questions swirled in her mind, as it appeared the Goddess herself might even be directing her there, Luitgard wanted nothing more than to go back. She tried very hard to assure herself it had nothing to do with the hope of seeing her beloved Dragonfather again.

Splashing near the shore caught Luitgard's attention. Flora and Adelina had already undressed and were entering the water. They were talking and giggling. Luitgard swam over and the girls fell silent.

"Something the matter?" she asked.

The girls shook their heads. They were still smiling but seemed nervous to share their conversation. Normally Luitgard would have pressed them on the matter. Instead, she said farewell and climbed out of the water to dry off and dress. The intrigues of Goddess Maids seemed entirely irrelevant. Hoping Sieglinde's lesson would be over, Luitgard gathered her things and returned to the manor.

When she went to return her things to the solar, Sieglinde walked out of the lesson room, several dispersing Goddess Maids emerged behind her. She immediately joined Luitgard in the solar.

"What's the matter?" Sieglinde asked.

Luitgard dropped her dying dress and soap onto the chest at the end of her bed before telling her sister what had happened that morning. She left nothing out and described as much as she could. When she was finished, she said, "I think the Goddess wants me to go to Rome."

"We have no way of knowing who this woman is," Sieglinde reasoned. "It could be a trick. Who knows what magic that priest can work."

"He has been busy with the storehouse all day. He could not have done it," Luitgard replied, stung. She felt Sieglinde was treating her like a gullible child.

"And what about his Church? Maybe they are behind it," she said.

"And why would they resort to a woman? Christians hate women."

"Not that virgin of theirs."

Luitgard paused. "I suppose but this woman looked nothing like their Mary. She looked like a Roman Goddess. Sieglinde, please. Consider this. We ask the Goddess for guidance and protection. Maybe that is exactly what she is trying to offer us. If I do not go, it could be more dangerous for all of us than if I stay."

"And what will the Dominican do if he returns to Rome? I know you plan to take him with you. Will he tell them about us?"

Only a moment before, Luitgard had been feeling confident. She knew she had to go to Rome. She knew she had to go with the Dominican, that was why the Goddess had led him to their village in the first place. She knew all of that now. It was the only explanation that made any sense to her. It was the only explanation that felt right.

But with Sieglinde's pragmatic questions, Luitgard could not deny the risks.

Sieglinde crossed her arms over her chest. "You asked him this morning what he would do and he did not know," she said. "Until he does, I cannot concede to you leaving with him. Speak to him tonight and we will discuss his answer."

Luitgard nodded. Her sister priestess was right.

## Chapter 5

That evening, after the bowls and tables from the evening meal had been cleared away, Luitgard followed Justin to his alcove. His back was to her and he appeared to be untying the belt of his robes as she approached. He gave a start and turned around when she said a greeting.

She had talked with him so much when he was seated or kneeling that she had forgotten how tall he was. Her heart skipped as his blue eyes locked onto hers. Her encounters with the Goddess were truly making her go insane. The simple matter of maintaining her composure around this man was becoming a struggle.

"Do you require my help with any more work?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she replied. "I was wondering if you would walk with me so that we could discuss some things."

Even as she made the request, she wondered why. She had intended simply to ask the question again and leave when he had answered. She also felt that no matter what he said, it would change nothing of her conviction to return to Rome.

He nodded. "Lead the way."

She walked outside and down the manor steps with him following close behind. When she reached the narrow paths, now deserted that everyone had sought refuge inside for the night, she slowed so that they could talk easily. The chill of the night still had not settled and she found the mild warmth pleasing.

"Have you given any more thought to what I asked you this morning?"

"I have," he replied.

"And would you care to share your thoughts with me?"

"I still do not know."

She felt her blood rise to her throat but forced it back down. That was hardly something helpful enough she could take to Sieglinde and she needed Sieglinde' s approval. There would need to be arrangements for the teaching of the Goddess Maids. Sieglinde would likely need to find an assistant to help while she was away. Preparations needed to be made. No matter how much Luitgard would love to flee into the night on her quest, it was simply not practical for anyone including herself.

Forcing calm, she asked, "Why do you not know?"

Justin took a deep breath. "I do not know how the Church would welcome my return," he said. "Did they hope I would return with God's truth as they claimed or did they expect me to die out here? If it was the latter, my return could mean a swift end to my life."

"And if it is the former?" she pressed. She needed his reassurance and yet had no reason to believe he would give it.

"Then I need to know why they thought I would find truth here," he said. "I have been made a puppet and I dislike the feeling very much." He paused. "I know what I would do if I went back," he said. "I would seek an audience with the Pope to ask him directly."

"Would you tell him of us?" she asked.

He stopped to turn towards her. His face was ill-defined in the dusk, but his blue eyes were as clear as ever. "I promise you that the inquisitors themselves could torture me and I would never tell them of your people."

She did not want to seem ungrateful but she also did not want to be a fool. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because you were right," he said. "The only thing your people lack for is violence and hatred. Whether you know it or not, you are living Jesus' teachings when the rest of the world has failed. I could never be a part of destroying that."

She had no idea what to think. His references to his religion caused a reflex of anger to percolate within her gut and yet his sincerity and the fact that he had praised her people quelled it quickly.

"Are priests allowed to lie?" she asked, smiling.

"Not at all," he replied without hesitation.

"Yet, some do."

"We are still men."

"And you? Are you one of those men?"

He did not take his eyes from hers. "I try my best not to be," he said.

She laughed. "I think we have already discussed how lacking your best has proven." She looked over at the completed storehouse. "Though your best at hard labour seems to be very good indeed. Maybe that alone is telling me to keep you here. Would you despise a life living amongst us?"

He shook his head. "I could find God's truth here," he said.

She swelled with pride. "I'm impressed. Even this morning, I would never have thought you that open minded."

"You would be surprised how much a journey to a different culture can change you."

She turned her face to look into his eyes but he was staring at the storehouse. Something in his tone had seemed meaningful. Did he know what she was considering? She had been careful to leave out any mention of her accompanying him to Rome yet she could have sworn he knew.

"Thank you for this talk," she said. "Maybe one of these days I will finally teach you how to answer a question properly. Evasion does not suit you."

"You mistake confusion for evasion," he said without showing any sign that she had offended him. "Evasion implies knowledge I do not possess."

"We both know you possess far more than you seem willing to share with me, but for now I will accept it."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, Justin," she said.

He looked up at her.

"Adalbern told me," she explained. "I will see you in the morning when we may have more to discuss."

"Goodnight," he said in reply.

He did not follow as she walked back to the manor.

Sieglinde was sitting by the window when Luitgard returned to their room. Her body was dimly illuminated by a single candle on the shelf between their beds. As the flame was buffeted by drafts, the light and shadows danced together on Sieglinde's gown.

"Did he give you an answer?" she asked immediately without looking away from the open window.

Luitgard nodded as she walked over to the chest at the end of her bed and opened it. "We have nothing to fear if he returns to Rome," she said.

Sieglinde looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure of that? He could have said anything just to get you to release him."

"It was not his words that convinced me," she said. "It was his face and his movements. I am not even sure he wants to go to Rome."

"Why would a friar be afraid to go to Rome?" Sieglinde wondered.

"A very good question," Luitgard replied as she pulled off her dress. "One that convinces me more than ever than I must return there."

"You are being reckless."

"I am being honest with myself," Luitgard shot back. "I need to do this Sieglinde. I need to find out for sure that Dragonfather is not in Rome. I need to know for sure that we remain hidden from the Church's eyes. I will never sleep again if I do not do this. He will not betray us. I know he won't."

Sieglinde stood up and walked to the chest at the end of Luitgard's bed. She knelt down before it and tipped open the lid. Reaching inside, she shuffled through the folds of different fabrics until her arms were nearly immersed to her elbows. After another moment rummaging through the contents, she withdrew her hands, which were clasped around something three hand lengths long and wrapped in brown linen.

She stood, walked over to Luitgard, and held out the item. It was heavy. Luitgard nearly dropped it as she took it. She unwrapped it to reveal a dagger with the body of a wyvern carved along its white handle. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at her sister priestess.

"Perhaps it will lead you to your grandfather," she said. "If not ... the journey to Rome is long. You should have plenty of time to watch him and learn if he is lying. If he is, wait until he is asleep."

Luitgard choked, "I could never ... "

Sieglinde was unsympathetic. "If you insist on taking this journey, you must accept the possibility. You may be endangering us all if the Church discovers who you are. Promising me that you will do what needs to be done to protect us is the least you owe us for that risk."

"Then you will let me go?" Luitgard asked. Her chest was tight. Having the dagger in her hands, the same one the Goddess had been holding when she told her to go to Rome, made getting there seem that much more imperative.

"You would run away if you had to," Sieglinde said as she walked to her bed and began to undress. "If I accept your insistence to leave, we can at least take precautions and prepare for your departure properly. Tomorrow morning, we will both meet with the friar and then with Adalbern to discuss the arrangements."

"Thank you, Sieglinde," Luitgard whispered.

Her sister priestess blew out the candle without waiting for Luitgard to get into her own bed and gave a large, audible sigh. "Do not thank me," she said. "I hate you for this and if any harm comes to us or to you, I will never forgive you. Goodnight."

Luitgard stared at the dark lump that was Sieglinde on her bed. There was nothing she could say.

## Chapter 6

Though Luitgard slept, it could not have been called restful. Memories of her journey to Rome as a girl and all her nightmares of what could be swirled in a convoluted mess in her mind. Visions of an bronze angel with palms outstretched in welcome kept interrupting any flow the dreams might have had. By the time that Sieglinde shut her chest with a loud thud after dressing, Luitgard felt as though she had been deprived weeks of sleep.

"Get up," Sieglinde said with the same bitterness she had had the night before. "I can smell the bread already."

"I'm awake," Luitgard groaned.

"And now you must get up," Sieglinde pressed. "I will be downstairs helping with the tables. We will meet with the friar after breakfast."

"Justin," Luitgard said. "His name is Justin."

Sieglinde left the room, nearly slamming the door behind her.

Luitgard opened her eyes and stared at the door. She wished her sister priestess was more understanding. To be truthful to herself, she was hurt entirely because she had thought Sieglinde _would_ be more understanding. Between the two of them, had it not been Sieglinde who had always proven the more compassionate?

Luitgard rolled over and shut her eyes instantly as they were blinded by the sun. Sieglinde had opened the shutters and the morning light was at just the right angle to hit her in the eyes. After another moment, she opened her eyes again and looked at Sieglinde's bed. She would miss her.

If she was remembering correctly, the journey to Rome took almost two months. She had no idea how long she would need to be there either. Even if she could keep her time there short, she would need to hurry to return to the village before the first snows.

She rolled onto her back and looked at the roof beams. How many more days of her life would she wake up starring at those beams? Would the day she set out be the last?

Though she wanted to, she did not trust Justin as much as she had pretended in front of Sieglinde the night before. He had seemed sincere in their conversation and she had enjoyed talking to him without antagonism, but she could not deny that he was still hiding something.

She looked over at the dagger, resting on the shelf where she had set it the night before. She hoped very much that she would never need it. Her guts twisted. The Goddess had thought she might.

After giving herself only one more moment to wallow, she got up and dressed for the day. She used the water in the bowl on the corner table to clean her face and smooth her hair back into a braid before walking down to the hall for the morning meal.

Justin was already seated in his usual spot. He and several others beginning to gather were waiting patiently for the bread, water and ale to be brought out. While the women greeted each other warmly and chatted, he remained alone and silent.

Luitgard walked to her chair and she saw that he had finally noticed her. She smiled in greeting; he nodded in reply.

When all were gathered for the morning meal, Sieglinde stood. "Before we begin, I must inform you that the morning lessons will be cancelled. Luitgard and I have some matters to discuss and will be unable to instruct you until they are concluded. Please take the time to make yourselves useful." She looked directly at the Goddess Maids. "I know Oda requires some extra hands for plant harvesting today," she said.

The girls nodded in capitulation and Sieglinde sat down, allowing Luitgard to perform her usual role of overseeing the morning prayers.

After nourishing themselves, Sieglinde and Luitgard walked over to Justin who had just helped a Goddess Maid put away one of the tables.

"Please stay behind until everyone else has left the hall," Luitgard said. "You are involved in the matters that we must discuss."

His brow furrowed but he nodded in agreement.

Several minutes later, the hall was quiet and empty but for the three of them.

"Is this about our conversation last night?" he asked.

Luitgard nodded. "Your arrival and ... other developments indicate that I must return to Rome," she said. "I am quite sure you are to accompany me. We must make arrangements for the trip and will need your assistance."

"What do you wish me to assist with?" he asked.

Luitgard noticed his guard had resurfaced. Far from the relaxed and vulnerable demeanour he had shown her the night before, he was nearly as tense as in their first meeting. His eyes flicked repeatedly to Sieglinde.

"I am unsure of the route, or what to expect on the journey. I remember that your people use money. How much do you have?" Luitgard asked.

"Not a coin," he replied. "Dominicans are poor. We rely on the goodness of the people to provide for us."

Luitgard crossed her arms, one hand lifting to rest against her mouth as she considered. They had no precious metals within the village and she had no idea what the Christians valued beyond the death of their enemies.

She let out of a long breath. "This is a problem," she said. "I know the journey is long. We will need food, shelter, and likely transportation. We have no horses here."

"I managed to make the journey here solely upon charity, but that may be more difficult if you are with me. It would be unusual for a friar and a nun to be travelling alone together," he said. "But ... " he looked around the hall at the blue curtains. "There are other things that can make purchases," he said. "The dye you use can often only be afforded by nobility. It sells for a high price."

"We have little left for the time being," Luitgard explained. "Oda needs to process more and that would take many weeks. We need to leave soon if I am to be back before the snows."

"The dyed fabric could bring just as high a price," he reasoned. "One of these curtains would be enough to feed us the entire journey."

Luitgard looked at Sieglinde. "We just dyed several new lengths of fabric yesterday," she said.

"And what were they to have been used for?" Sieglinde asked. Luitgard knew she was trying to cause problems.

"They would have replaced some of the older, worn ones but none need replacing immediately," she replied. Though she felt they looked good enough to convince Sieglinde of the lie, she knew she was downplaying how much they needed to be replaced. But she would be gone for months and in that time, Oda would have more dye processed and ready for use. They could easily have more made before winter.

Sieglinde's jaw tensed. "If you are sure," she said after a brief hesitation.

"We will need food enough for the next few days to get us to the nearest town," Justin added. "And a cart to carry the supplies."

Luitgard shook her head. "No cart."

"But how are we going to carry the fabric and food?"

"The only cart we have is hand drawn and used for harvest. The people will need it before we return."

"You want us to walk the entire way to Rome, carrying food and fabric in our arms?"

"I was hoping we would be able to buy horses or find some other alternative to walking at some point," she said. "How did you come here?"

"I walked," Justin said. "I managed to get a ride on a cart a few times but mostly it was just my two feet. It has also taken me almost a year while carrying nothing and relying upon willingness of strangers to help a friar."

Luitgard ran through the village inventory in her mind before looking over to Sieglinde once more. "Weren't you and several Goddess Maids going to sew this afternoon?" she asked.

Sieglinde nodded slowly. Though she had accepted Luitgard's insistence to embark on this journey, it was obvious she refused to help her out the door. Perhaps she was still hoping that too many obstacles would make Luitgard change her mind. Luitgard would never change her mind. The Goddess was telling her to go to Rome, possibly even to save Dragonfather. There was nothing that would change her mind now, especially with Justin's reassurances to keep her people a secret.

"Would you be able to sew some bags for us? Ones we can just put over our shoulders like a sling?"

Sieglinde nodded slowly again.

"Wonderful," Luitgard said. Looking at Justin, she added, "I am sure we can manage."

He raised a brow but did not object to the idea. He looked down at her blue dress. "You will need to wear something else while we travel," he said. "You might be mistaken for nobility. A noble woman travelling by foot, alone with a friar, with no coin would bring far too many questions. It would be best if you looked a peasant."

"And what do peasants wear?"

"Un-dyed clothing mostly. Do you have any of that around here?" he asked. "All the women I have seen wear colours."

"There should be something in the piles bound for the dying hut," she offered. Her heart was beginning to race. The more solutions they came up with, the more real the trip became in her mind, which revelled in the thought of seeing Dragonfather again. Her expectation was so pronounced that even her fear was losing its hold.

As a final matter of discussion, Luitgard and Justin determined the route they would take. When Dragonfather had taken her twelve years earlier, she had been a little girl. She remembered nothing of the names of the towns through which they had travelled. She just knew they had to keep travelling South.

Justin explained that there was a heavily used trade route between Stare Mesto and Rome. They would need to travel south to Stare Mesto, a growing and busy merchant town where they would likely be able to exchange the tapestries for horses. There would also be plenty of places along the way for food and shelter if they stayed on the trade routes.

Though Luitgard was concerned the Church would learn of her if they travelled such a well-worn path, Justin insisted that was unlikely. If they both wore the simple clothes of peasants, no one would think anything of them. There were many Germans travelling to Jihlava to work in the silver mines.

"We will have to pretend that we are wedded," Justin said finally. "It will prevent problems," he added as he looked her up and down. She felt her face become hot under his appraisal.

"And how do we pretend that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We say we are and ensure that when we pay for shelter, we sleep together."

Her temper rose into her throat. "I am not sleeping with you," she said. "Facade or not, you are not my husband and I have never agreed to give myself to you."

He threw up his hands defensively. "That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I am a man of God. I have taken vows of celibacy. I would never ... How could you even ... "

He was so flustered by her response that her embarrassment deepened. Her cheeks felt even hotter than before and her heart had plummeted into her stomach where it was now swishing around uncomfortably.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I think you two have the major matters figured out," Sieglinde said. Her tone was much more jovial than Luitgard had heard in days. She was even supressing a smile.

"Thank you very much for your help," Sieglinde said to Justin. "We must make arrangements with Adalbern to compensate for Luitgard's absence. We will call upon you if you are needed."

Justin nodded before turning and leaving through the main doors. His own cheeks were scarlet. When he was gone, Sieglinde let out a loud belly laugh.

"I had no idea Dominican's were celibate," Luitgard defended. "How was I to know that wasn't what he meant by it?"

Sieglinde wiped away a tear as she attempted to catch her breath. "While your embarrassment was indeed entertaining, my good mood has little to do with it," she said.

Luitgard paused before asking, "What do you mean? What does have to do with it?"

Sieglinde was still laughing. "I thought you would die a childless spinster. I'm thinking that I was completely wrong about you."

"I don't see you rushing to get married," Luitgard countered. "It isn't like I've had the time or the opportunity to seek a husband."

"You've had more of both than you are willing to admit."

"And you have not?"

"There is someone I've been watching but he needs more time. You've never showed any interest at all before now. "

Luitgard looked at the doors through which Justin had left and then back at Sieglinde. "Him?" she asked. "You think I am interested in him?"

Sieglinde smiled and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I think this journey might be better for you than I thought," she said as she began to walk to the doors with a light step and a happy swing to her hips.

"I am not interested in Justin!" Luitgard shouted. When Sieglinde did not respond, she added, "He is celibate!"

"If you insist," Sieglinde called back with laughter before opening the large doors. "We best meet with Adalbern. We don't want to steal the entire day from him." She skipped through the door, leaving Luitgard rushing to catch up.

## Chapter 7

Though they had tried to keep Luitgard's travel plans a secret from the village, news had spread by the end of the first day of planning. By the next morning, the Goddess Maids were already gossiping in hurried tones over breakfast. They looked just as frightened as the night Luitgard announced they would be checking the barrier. Evidently, the events of the last few days had created a stir that Luitgard's rumoured departure had only exacerbated.

Their worried glances fed the guilt that sat niggling at the base of her gut. Her own fear of leaving the Mintharch lands fueled her guilt so that she slept little, staring at the beams, considering how she could back out, how she was much more needed in the village, how Sieglinde had been right all along.

To add to her confusion, however, Sieglinde was not quite pleased with the plans and was actually becoming impatient with any delays in the preparations. By the end of all them, Luitgard thought Sieglinde would shove her through the gates herself.

After several days, Justin and Luitgard had their supplies gathered. The entire village had been prepared to function without Luitgard's presence, and Luitgard even remembered to tell Adalbern and Sieglinde to replace the stone beneath the vat in the dying shack.

"Let us pray that I can make it back before the first snows," Luitgard said as she hugged her sister priestess.

"We look forward to your return," Sieglinde replied. "Both of you," she added.

The dagger Sieglinde had given Luitgard weighted her belt uncomfortably. Its location at her waist was obscured by a shawl she had wrapped over it. It had been Sieglinde's idea to kill Justin if necessary but now she was acting like he was family.

Though confused, Justin had accepted this newfound affection directed at him. Perhaps he was just glad he was no longer being threatened with death.

He now stood a few feet away from them, watching their exchange. He was dressed in brown hose, a linen shirt, and a leather surcoat that Adalbern had given him. His Dominican robes were stuffed under the dyed fabrics and food in one of the two bags slung over his shoulders. Luitgard still insisted she had no interest in him, but seeing him out of his robes and in proper clothes, she could not deny how attractive he was. The memory of him working on the storehouse roof came back and she looked away, sure she was blushing.

Though she had walked through the gates many times, the significance of this time made her want to stop, turn around, and beg to be let back inside. She refused to give in to such childish impulses and forced her next foot forward, but she could not keep herself from looking back. Adalbern and Sieglinde stood watching her from the open drawbridge.

Movement from the top of the walls caught her eye and she looked up to see Humbert waving to her. She returned the gesture before turning back to the path.

Justin had said they would walk south to the main trade route that led to Stare Mesto, the nearest trading centre on their route. He hoped they would be able to trade for horses there. She still found it surprising how much their dyed fabrics were valued by the Christian nobles. She hoped he was right and all would go well.

Laden with their heavy bags, the trek to the southern barrier seemed much longer than Luitgard remembered but it was not even mid-morning by the time they reached the southern marker.

As she saw the small Goddess statue become visible through the grass, she slowed. She stopped before it and looked down at the small form.

"What is it?" Justin asked as he walked to her side. Seeing the small statue he asked, "Is it a troll?"

She scoffed and forced outrage though inwardly she could not help but remember she had thought the same thing. "No," she said. "Long ago, it was the form of our Great Mother. The years have not been kind to it."

Seeming to realize that he had just insulted her Goddess, he gave a quick apology and asked if she needed a moment.

Her inner mirth faded. She nodded. "You go on. I will catch up," she said.

He nodded and continued walking southward.

She looked down at the statue again. Her heart pounded with the knowledge that she would be crossing to the other side of it for the first time since she had been a little girl. It raced at the thought of what awaited her.

She knelt down and placed both hands on top of it and closed her eyes. "Great Mother," she said. "Please keep my people safe while I am on my journey. May they always remain hidden."

She opened her eyes and stood. Justin was far enough ahead that she had trouble placing him through the trees. When she spotted him, she took a deep breath and stepped across the barrier.

"Good-bye, Sieglinde," she whispered.

The heavy bags proved more than a simple discomfort as the day wore on. They had to walk through thick grass and forests, over rocky paths and uneven terrain. The rest of the Spreewald proved much wetter than her home. There were several marshes they had to circumvent, each one adding to her annoyance; yet another thing to slow their progress. The bags' weight held back her speed even without the obstacles.

Though they had taken several breaks to give her a chance to rest, by late afternoon, she could simply carry on no more. Justin was kind about it as he built a fire on the shore of a small lake that evening.

"I've been travelling for months myself," he said. "I'm used to the walk. If you've never left your home, you cannot expect to run to Marathon."

"Marathon?" she asked.

"An old Greek story," he said without further explanation.

He had evidently had much practice making fires on those several months of travel, for it was only a few moments later that the fire was large enough to warm her through.

They pulled out chunks of their bread. Luitgard held hers between both hands and whispered, "The blessings of the Great Mother have given us this meal. May the harvest of her work give us health," before biting into it.

Justin looked away from her while she prayed. "Are you scared of going to Rome?" he asked, looking at the flames. He ripped off a chunk of bread with his mouth and chewed it.

"Were you scared coming to us?" she asked in reply.

"I did not know you were what I was going to find," he said before hesitating. "That's not entirely true. I had been forewarned that I might find someone but I did not really believe it. But yes, I was still frightened of what I would find."

"Did we frighten you when you found us?" she asked.

He chuckled. "You were all talking about whether to keep me alive," he said. "That is not the most comforting of welcomes."

"Sorry about that. I might have overreacted. You were the first outsider ever to come through the barrier. Most would just have walked around it, never really knowing they had, never knowing why they had changed course. Yet you walked straight through as if nothing was there."

He nodded. "Definitely something strange about that," he confirmed. After another moment, he said, "You never answered my question but I answered yours. Now who's being evasive?"

She smiled but set down her bread. "Yes, I am scared," she said. "I too am unsure of what I will find in Rome. Is it just the same as it was years ago?"

He looked down at the bread in his hands, turning it over before deciding to stuff it back into his sack. He took hers from the ground and did the same with it. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I have never been there before."

Luitgard gave a nervous laugh. "I thought you knew our route."

"I do," he said. "I have been to Stare Mesto and Vienna once before." He paused. "Something I have not confessed to you," he said. "My mentor has gone to Vienna. He said he hoped to meet an old friend there and wanted me to join him after my other travels. After what has happened, I am a little worried about that part of our journey. I think he knew about your people."

Luitgard's skin went cold. "How do we avoid him?"

Justin shrugged. "The best we can do is avoid the church there. There is really no other way we can get through the area without risking starvation or attack from bandits."

She swallowed and stared at the fire. She needed to change the subject. Her panic was threatening to overtake her. "I was sure men of the Church come from Rome," she said, hoping to divert the subject.

He shook his head, still looking at his hands now free of bread. "That's where we all answer too but it is not where I came from. I travelled from Béziers."

"Where is that?" Luitgard was sure she had heard the name somewhere before but could not think where.

"It is a far way from here," he said. "My grandfather was killed in the massacre there. I returned when I was old enough and learned what had happened."

Luitgard's heart sank at his words. She had no idea what he was talking about. His history was not her history but his tone was enough to tell her how serious it was. She wanted to ask him what he meant but she hesitated, unsure if it would be too rude.

She tried to distract herself by pulling out her comb from one of the bags. She had intended to rid her hair of any knots caused by their hike, but ended up simply caressing the bone teeth with her fingers. Her curiosity got the better of her.

"I know nothing of your history," she said. "I only know of the Church because my grandfather took me to Rome to show me the evils of their ways." She was trying to be compassionate but with the words spoken, she silently berated herself for insulting Justin's way of life.

To her surprise, he nodded. "That is why I joined the Church," he said. "I wanted to be one of the men to make up for all the horrors committed in God's name. I suppose that is why I went back to Béziers. My grandfather was one of those who took part in the massacre under the orders of those claiming to serve God."

His jaw and fists clenched. "Seven thousand were slaughtered for being peaceful like your people. They were too peaceful, not willing enough to bow to the orders of the Church. They died simply trying to bring some of God to the world."

A tear trickled down his cheek. When he tried to speak again, he was forced to cough to clear his emotion. "I wanted to prevent that from ever happening again but I fear the Church has been using me as a pawn to do the very same to your people. I refuse to be like my grandfather. Any man who could slaughter another is no man of God."

The poorly dried wood in the fire gave a great snap and pop as the flames hit a pocket of moisture. Luitgard watched the sparks land outside the stone ring they had created for it and waited until she was sure they had cooled before looking away.

The story he told was similar to the one her Dragonfather had told her to illustrate the ferocity of the Church. He had said it was one of many. Justin's story seemed to confirm that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally. "Our people try to stay hidden because my grandfather knew there was no way the Church would ever change its ways. They do not like competition before the eyes of their God."

Justin looked up. His eyes were still red and wet but he was not crying. "And so he turned to paganism?"

Luitgard shook her head. "He turned to the Goddess because she came to him when he feared there was no hope for the world. If he devoted himself to her, she would protect our people always. She created the barrier that we maintain. She has protected us for three generations."

Her mention of such a supernatural visitation caused Justin to straighten. He wiped his eyes and looked at her with renewed sobriety. "How did he know it was a goddess and not some demon or even the Devil trying to tempt him?"

Luitgard shrugged. "He never told me but he was convinced so I am as well. My grandfather was a very good judge of character and our people have remained safe ever since. We have no reason to doubt the story."

Justin looked out over the dark lake but said nothing.

"We should sleep," Luitgard suggested. "My shoulders are going to fall off from strain if I don't rest."

He nodded. "You sleep," he said. "I will keep watch for a while. I'm not tired."

After thanking him, she draped herself over one of the sacks of fabric and closed her eyes.

A moment later, Justin was gently shaking her arm. "Wake up," he said.

She sat bolt upright and looked around. "What's wrong?" she asked before realizing her sore muscles were screaming at her in agony. There was a kink in her neck.

"Nothing's wrong," he said. "I have breakfast."

She looked up at the sky covered in dark grey-blue clouds. The air smelled of dew and alder smoke. "It's morning?" she asked.

He nodded. "Close to it," he said. "But the clouds have started to move in and I did not want to be out in the open when the rains start." Pulling away from her, he gestured to the fire. Leaning over it was a branch with a large, skinned hare skewered upon it.

They ate their breakfast and prepared for their day of travel quickly. The rains began to fall just as Luitgard was putting the second sack over her shoulder, which was punished by a shot of pain.

The next several days passed slowly but without incident. There were few people in the Spreewald and Justin and Luitgard were not travelling the usual routes. They walked mostly in silence for Luitgard found it difficult to travel with the heavy fabrics and found she had to concentrate upon keeping herself upright under such strain. The farthest she had to travel on most days was the dying hut and that distance was miniscule compared to those they were now covering each day.

Their evening conversations were short as well. They focused upon making camp, finding food, and resting. However, she had learned that Justin had long ago begun to have misgivings about the Church. He felt God only deserved the best from those preaching in his name but he was beginning to feel the task impossible. His spiritual advisors were convinced he was mistaken about the prevalent immorality. They told him to travel in search of Gods' truth. God would show him how noble his work truly was. Then they had told him to travel northeast. In desperation to quell his guilt, he did as they instructed, landing him in the midst of the Mintharchs. In his search for Gods' truth, the Mintharchs only created more confusion for him.

Finally, their quiet days of walking through the remote rolling hills came to an end when they arrived at a wide path that cut through the trees.

"The main road used for trade," Justin said as he turned southward onto it. "It is not much farther to Stare Mesto."

Though it was a major route, it was another half day before they came upon anyone, or-rather- anyone came upon them. Squeaking and creeks caught their attention and they turned to see a wagon being pulled by an old horse. The reins were held by a man with a weathered face and next to him sat an equally weathered looking woman. As the wagon pulled alongside them, the man pulled on the reins to stop it.

"Where are you two headed?" he asked.

"Stare Mesto," Justin said.

The man nodded. "We are headed that way," he said as he eyed the large sacks they were carrying. "Planning to do some selling?"

Justin nodded.

"I'd be willing to give you a ride for payment," he said.

Justin shook his head. "We have no money yet but if you are willing to wait until we get to Stare Mesto, I will have money then." To emphasize his point, he tugged a corner of woad-dyed cloth out of one of his bags.

The man nodded. "Climb into the back," he said.

Justin and Luitgard walked to the back of the wagon. In it, there were two children, a boy who looked to be about eleven and a girl half his age. They were pressed against the boards closest to their father. Luitgard and Justin heaved their sacks onto the wagon and climbed up. They managed to squeeze into two spots amongst their own sacks and those of the travellers. Luitgard's legs were cramped with her knees nearly by her ears, but for the time being, it was better than walking.

As the sun began to brush the tops of the trees, the man pulled the wagon off the road. "I was hoping to make it to Stare Mesto tonight but it looks like that won't happen. We'd never make it before they shut the city for the night," he explained. "I don't enjoy camping near the road−too much can go wrong−but outside the city walls would be even worse."

"Have you had much trouble so far?" Justin asked as the man heaved a sack out of the wagon.

He shook his head. "We have been fortunate but I worry how long that will last. We still have a ways to travel after Stare Město. I'm hoping to find work in the silver mines in Jihlava."

The travelling family had a sack of loaves they were gracious enough to share. The bread was stale but Luitgard was happy for anything after such a long day though it felt strange to be unable to say her usual prayer over the food.

She sat by the fire they had made and kept to herself. Justin had no trouble maintaining mundane conversation with the man but even the possibility that she might be asked to speak twisted her insides. She hated to think of what would happen if she let the wrong thing slip so she spent the evening huddled on her own. Finally, she settled down, letting Justin's voice coming from a few feet away lull her to sleep.

She was awoken by an arm wrapping around her from behind and gave a small jolt.

"It is alright," Justin whispered in her ear. "We are supposed to be man and wife, remember."

She remained tense but said nothing.

"I would not do this if we were alone," he added.

Though she tried to force her muscles to relax, it was not working. She was still tense and now she was not sure if she should be offended. He was sworn celibate but she could not help feeling slighted by his comment.

She closed her eyes. Her pulse raced. She was sure she would not sleep but Justin's embrace provided warmth she had not felt since leaving the Mintharchs. Her muscles released and it was not until the chirps of the first birds carried through the trees that she awoke. Justin's arm was still wrapped around her and she could feel his breath on her neck.

As carefully as she could, she crawled out from under his arm and sat up. The man was gone but his wife lay near the dying fire, her eyes open as she looked down at the small girl wrapped in her arms.

"You have a kind husband," the woman whispered.

"Excuse me?" Luitgard asked.

"Most men would not be so patient," the woman said.

Luitgard was still confused. "What do you mean?"

A smile spread across the woman's lips. "You are definitely fortunate," she said. After another moment, she added, "Most men will not tolerate the insecurities of a virgin."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Luitgard said but this time her ignorance was a lie.

"I saw how shocked you were last night when he touched you. I saw him whisper in your ear until you settled. He must truly care for you."

Luitgard said nothing. She wanted to tell the woman she understood nothing but that would risk giving away who they really were. That would lead to dangerous questions.

"My husband is a good man," the woman said. "He is a wonderful father, but he has not always been as patient with me." The woman looked over to her son, who was still propped up against a log, asleep.

All at once, Luitgard's worst insecurities came back to her; her fear for her life on their journey, her fear for the safety of her people, and even her fear that Sieglinde had been right when she said Luitgard would be a spinster. She had always been alone aside from Sieglinde's company. Her people had kept her mind busy so it had never before bothered her. Night after night sitting quietly by the fire had allowed those fears fertile ground. She had begun to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Would she ever marry and have children? Did she want to?

"What is it like?" she asked the woman.

"What?"

"What is it like to have children?"

The woman smiled again. "The most terrifying thing in the world," she said. "If I were travelling alone with my husband like you, I would not have a single care in the world." After a pause, she added, "But your husband cares greatly for you. You might find it easier than I do."

Luitgard looked down at Justin. He had not moved.

He could never be her husband but she wondered if she would ever find a man who really would care for her in the way the woman described. There was little choice amongst her own people. Most were too young or too old for her. She had to admit that even when she thought about it, there was not one of them she felt she could ever marry. She even began to wonder who it could be that held Sieglinde's interest. As far as she was concerned, there was just as little choice for Sieglinde. Maybe life as a spinster was even preferable. It would certainly be less complicated.

The man returned a few minutes later with an armful of twigs that he placed upon the fire. "Just enough to keep the kids warm until the sun does its work," he said.

The newly laid twigs released a sweet smell as they burned and it was not long before it tickled the noses of Justin and the children. With everyone awake, they ate quickly and readied themselves and the cart for continuing the journey.

As Luitgard hefted one of the bags of fabric onto the wagon, the man walked close to her and spoke in quiet tones. "I have a request for you," he said. "My daughter saw your fabrics yesterday and quite likes them. I don't have enough money to buy any from you but I was hoping you might be kind enough to give her even a small square as a precious." He added quickly, "I will gladly wave any fee for the ride."

Luitgard was not sure if he was offering a good deal but the sentimental request struck her. She nodded and reached into the bag she had just placed upon the wagon. She pulled out a corner of the fabric but was not sure how to cut it. Then, remembering the dagger tied beneath her shawl, she reached for it. At the same time, the man offered a small wood carving knife.

"Use this," he said, not realizing she had been about to reach for the dagger.

She nodded in thanks and took the offered knife, her heart beating powerfully as she realized she had nearly revealed her hidden weapon to Justin who stood only a few steps away. She had not realized how quickly she could return to the old habit of trusting those around her. She needed to be more careful.

She cut a swatch not much bigger than her hand and gave it to the man. "I can give you no more," she said.

He nodded and took the fabric. "Thank you for this," he said. "I'm sure my daughter will clutch to it for the rest of her life. She wishes she were born a princess or a noblewoman with fancy clothes. This is the best I can offer but it is more than I could a day ago."

He thanked her once more and walked away. Not long later, they were all back on the wagon and reaching ever closer to Stare Mesto.

## Chapter 8

Since Luitgard had left them, it seemed the village had had to make surprisingly few adjustments to their daily routine. While the lessons she had once taught were taken over by different crones, the day to day supervision and decision making had fallen to Adalbern and Sieglinde, who had managed quite successfully to maintain the efficient status quo.

Every morning, Sieglinde would steal some rolls from the kitchens and take them to the men on the walls. Most mornings, Humbert was there and she would give him the first hot roll. He always thanked her, but so too did the other men. She hoped one day he would finally see the gesture as something more.

With the storehouse finished, Sieglinde and Adalbern decided the builders could be sent to change the stone in the dying shack. Before they could seek out an appropriate replacement stone, the original had to be removed. It had never before been replaced and there was no one who knew exactly what was needed.

After a rainy night, Sieglinde sent Boris, Friedmann, Emil, Corbinians, and Detlef to the shack to remove the stone. All five of them were strong and in the prime of their lives. She knew they were easily up for the task so when Friedmann and Detlef walked into the Great Hall before midday looking worn, she was surprised.

She and her mother, Lilli, had been giving the Goddess Maids Dianna, Agnes, and Lucia a sewing lesson. She lowered her sewing as Friedmann walked up and whispered in her ear.

"We have found something you should see," he said.

She nodded and stood, leaving her sewing on the chair she had been using.

Her mother, who had been the Mother of Sewing for many years did not hesitate in regaining the Goddess Maids' attention. She scolded Agnes for her uneven stitching.

"Fetch Adalbern," Sieglinde said to Friedmann as they left the manor.

Within minutes, she was walking across the drawbridge with Adalbern, Friedmann, and Detlef following. Humbert was watching from the battlements.

Though the clouds had fully cleared that morning and the air was hot, the earth beneath the canopy of trees was muddy. The mixture of smells of soaked soil and hot bark mixed unpleasantly in Sieglinde's nose. It took much longer than she had expected to get to the dying shack and her skirts were muddy up to the knees by the time she did.

The entire front wall of the shack had been ripped out; the rubble was scattered around it in the mud and grass. The dying vat had been rolled against a tree. A rainbow river of old dye and water trickled down the slope towards the lake from where they had dumped it. The large grate that had held the vat was propped against one of the remaining side walls of the shack. Boris, Emil, and Corbinians were waiting for them near where the vat had once stood. As Sieglinde approached, Boris pointed at the ground.

"I'm not sure when this was put here," he said, "But it must be from us."

There was a hole big enough for a man to slip through right where the vat should have been. Sieglinde leaned over to look down it but there was no light. It seemed bottomless.

"How do you know it is something of ours?" she asked.

Boris pointed to the cracked stone they had removed and which was now on the ground several feet away. Though the design was interrupted by the large hole that had developed in the middle of it, there was no mistaking the coiled wyvern.

"It fit the hole perfectly," Boris said. "It was made for this spot."

Sieglinde considered. She saw no reason why it could not be something of theirs but she also saw little purpose for it.

"Is it a former well?" Adalbern asked.

Boris shrugged. "It isn't one anymore even if it was," he said. As if to accentuate his point, he took one of the small pieces from the demolished wall and dropped it into the hole. After several seconds, they heard the echo of a click as the hard chunk hit the bottom.

"Does it lead anywhere?" Sieglinde asked.

"That's a good question," Boris replied.

Sieglinde was still at a loss. As far as she was aware, the dying shack had served no other purpose for as long as the Mintharchs had been there. She was not sure how a giant hole aided dying.

"Is it possible to get down there to take a look?"

"We could get a rope," Detlef suggested.

Adalbern shook his head. "If there are sharp rocks, they could cut the rope. Best use a ladder instead."

"But we don't have a ladder that long except in the gatehouse," Detlef protested.

Adalbern glared. Detlef was a man but only just. He had yet to learn that sometimes it was best not to whine. "Then make another one," Adalbern growled.

Sieglinde's mind was still churning over when such a hole would be needed and why. Her great grandmother, Oda, might know or Ewald. They were the last two alive who were not born Mintharchs. She entrusted the exploration of the hole to Adalbern and the builders as she made her way back to the village where she went straight to the apothecary.

Oda and the two Mothers of the Apothecary, Doris and Julia, were teaching Adelina, Gisa, and Abigail proper grinding techniques when Sieglinde entered. She signalled for Oda to join her outside where she could speak to her privately.

She described what had been found in the dying shack and asked her if she knew anything about it. To her dismay, her great grandmother was perplexed. As far as she had known, there was no such thing out there. She suggested Sieglinde ask Ewald.

Sieglinde thanked her but could not force the disappointment from her voice. Oda gave her a close-lipped smile. "I'm sure you will figure it out, dear," she said. "You've always been such a smart girl." Far from making her feel better, Oda's encouragement made Sieglinde want to cry. She felt anything but smart at that moment. She thanked her again before walking back to the manor to change out of her muddy dress. She would have to speak to Ewald that evening. He was the head of the farmers and the hike to the eastern fields was many times longer than that to the dying shack.

To pass the time, she returned to the sewing lesson once she was wearing clean clothes. Her sewing was where she had left it. As she picked it up and sat down, her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. She gave a weak smile back.

"I was just showing the girls a new stitch," Lilli said. "They are picking it up nicely."

The three girls blushed but did not stop the movement of their needles.

The rest of the lesson dragged for Sieglinde. She found it difficult to contribute. She knew her mother had noticed and yet had said nothing as she had taken over the reins of the lesson entirely. When the end of the lesson finally came in late afternoon, Sieglinde handed her sewing to her mother and headed for the gates where she waited for Ewald and Adalbern to return.

Clouds had moved in once more and a deep rumble echoed in the distance. She wrapped her arms around her middle but it did little to counteract the wind that was quickly growing.

Ewald and the farmers returned before Adalbern and the builders and just as the clouds began to release their moisture. He was a white-haired man only a few years younger than Oda. He had been the brother of Oda's husband before the man had died. Despite his advanced age, his skin was golden and glistening from his days in the fields. His arms were thick with muscle and even his cheeks still spoke of the young man he had once been.

She called him over. Though he was confused, he complied with her request and listened as she gave the same description as she had given Oda. To her further disappointment, he shrugged. "I have no idea what that is about," he said. "But I have always been a farmer. That would have been the work of builders."

"But all the builders who would have been involved have since died," she lamented.

He nodded. "Sorry I could not help solve your mystery," he said. "At least it doesn't sound like another thing we need to worry about. I think Luitgard's adventures are enough for one summer."

His mention of Luitgard evoked a swell of prickling emotion she had managed to keep supressed until then. When everything was going according to plan, with no surprises, it was easier not to hate her sister priestess for leaving. It was easier to try to sympathize with Luitgard's reasons for going. At that moment, Sieglinde missed her only because she wanted someone else to ask, someone who might have a better idea than she did. If Lord Mintharch had passed some secret knowledge onto Luitgard, Luitgard should have had the decency to tell her before abandoning them.

Sieglinde thanked Ewald and returned to her spot on the drawbridge, though now a little more beneath the shelter of the gatehouses, where she awaited Adalbern's return. Because of the rain, she did not have to wait long.

Adalbern and the builders emerged from the trees and were soaking wet from the increasingly heavy downpour. Adalbern looked at her before shaking his fist to the clouds, which showed no interest in his protests.

"We were almost finished but we had to stop because of the weather," he said when he had neared. "As soon as the rain lets up, we should be able to finish that ladder."

"Get inside," she instructed, trying not to let her disappointment show. "We can worry about it in the morning."

He agreed and they joined the other villagers who were scrambling to seek shelter from the rain.

## Chapter 9

As the wagon crossed the Vatlava River in mid-morning, Luitgard watched with tense fists as they approached Stare Mesto. She turned around to look at the castle behind them.

"I thought my fabrics would be bought by the rich," she said, "Why are we ignoring the castle town?"

"The rich will not buy directly from us," Justin said. "We have to seek out the merchants and a place to stay. The nobles live near the castle but it is Stare Mesto that will have what we need."

Luitgard was not entirely convinced of his response. As she looked up at the castle once more, she saw the tops of the basilica's Romanesque towers and knew what was likely the bigger reason Justin wished to go to Stare Mesto.

Though Luitgard knew she had travelled to Rome through this city, she remembered none of it. She could not even tell how it had changed, if at all. The buildings were wood and in some places close together. In others, there were large green spaces of gardens. The wagon stopped by a large, stone church.

The man turned in his seat and said, "I am unfamiliar with Stare Mesto. Unless you know where to go, I will need to ask."

Justin shrugged. When the man climbed down from the wagon and walked towards the church, Luitgard leaned forward.

"I thought you had been here before," she whispered.

"Just once but I did not want him to know that," he whispered back.

The man returned several moments later and pointed down one of the streets that ran by the church. "There a several merchants wealthy enough to buy your fabric there," he said. "The day is early, and we are still hoping to reach Jihlava before nightfall so we must leave you here."

Justin nodded his understanding.

He and Luitgard climbed from the wagon and grabbed their bags. As the wagon trundled away, she began to panic. She was surrounded by Christians, in a Christian city. There were people everywhere. Carts and tables lined the streets. People chatted with neighbours and bargained with sellers. Many of them seemed to be speaking a different language from hers. The reality of what she had gotten into had hit. Then the fear of what would happen next followed with the weight of a blow to the stomach. What if they could find no buyers for the fabric? They were out of food and had no money for new supplies. Would she be able to make it back to her home? Would Justin even bother helping her?

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she lied.

"We will find a place to get food and rest as soon as we sell these," he said gesturing to the bags slung over his shoulders.

"You speak the language?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I'm sure one of the languages I know will come in useful," he said. "My first language is French and one of the bishops where I grew up was always slipping into Italian without realizing it. Combined with my Latin and German, I'm sure I can manage something."

He began to walk in the direction the man had indicated and she followed. Carts and tables along the street were covered in fabrics, tools, earthenware, and all kinds of foods. The sight of vegetables made Luitgard's mouth water.

Justin walked up to the fabric stall run by a woman with yellowed hands. She had fabrics of various colours. Seeing the woman's hands and the colours she had−greens, reds, and yellows−Luitgard was wary.

Justin asked if she spoke German. When she confirmed that she spoke enough to trade, he showed a corner of the woad-dyed fabric and asked, "Would you buy these fabrics?"

The woman sniffed. "I can't make a profit off those poorly made things. I sell only exotic dyed fabrics of the finest quality."

Luitgard could not help herself. "I did not know honey and berries were exotic dyes," she said.

Justin shot her a sharp glance to stay quiet and the woman looked as though she were about to reach across the table to strangle her.

"You obviously do not know anything about fabric or dyes," the woman said loudly so that everyone nearby could hear.

"We will look elsewhere," Justin said quickly before leading Luitgard away.

"She is lying about what she is selling," Luitgard protested. "I know dyes better than she does. I have been making fabrics and dying since I was a girl!"

"And she wouldn't be the first or the last to trick her customers," he said, "But we cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves."

He led her by several more stalls, all selling similar fabrics to the first. As they passed a table that had several finally made combs and hats laid out upon it. The familiarity of them made Luitgard stop. They looked just like the comb Dragonfather had given her.

The table was in front of a large house with an open door. Behind the table stood a girl who looked to be 13.

Justin, who had not realized at first that Luitgard had stopped, backtracked to fetch her.

"It doesn't look like they deal in fabrics," he said.

"We do not deal in cheap fabric," the girl interjected. "If you want to see those, you need to speak to my father," she added before calling to him.

A large man covered in several layers of embroidered fabrics stepped out of the house. He looked to be a pleasant man and was grinning.

"These people are interested in buying some fabric," she said to him.

"Selling actually," Justin corrected.

The man's grin disappeared. "I deal in only the finest fabrics," he said.

Justin pulled out the same corner of the fabric, causing the man's grin to return. "I am Arnold," he said. "Please, come inside," he added before leading them into the house.

The walls of the room they entered were lined with shelves, each one covered in gold trinkets, hats, completed dresses, or fabric. There was a table near the far end of the room. Arnold indicated it with his hand.

"Lay it out and let us have a look," he said.

Justin did as instructed, unrolling one of the swaths of cloth. "Woad-dyed," he said.

"Yes, yes," Arnold said as he looked it over and rubbed it between his fingers. "You are telling me the obvious, boy. But what is this fabric? It is thick like wool but soft like linen."

Justin looked at Luitgard for clarification.

"It is a blend," Luitgard explained. "We mix the threads together."

Arnold looked up. "I have seen some attempt such blends before," he said. "Nothing has looked as fine as this. Will it last?"

Luitgard nodded. "It is very durable," she said.

"And how much do you have for me?" he asked, eying their sacks.

"All that we have here," Justin said. "All of these sacks are full."

"Good news. Goods news," Arnold said, nodding. "Yes, I will be very pleased to purchase this from you."

Several minutes later and after much haggling by Justin, Luitgard and Justin were leaving the house feeling dozens of pounds lighter. Luitgard was sure she would fly away and did not miss the weight of the sacks. Justin had the bag of coins the merchant had given them tucked under his shirt.

They turned down the street and towards the inn that Arnold had recommended. From the outside, it looked almost no different from Arnold's home but once inside, there were tables to sit at and stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. The tables were empty as everyone was outside. Even the innkeeper had been sweeping outside when they arrived.

Justin paid for a room and for two bowls of soup. They sat alone at one of the tables as the inn keeper returned to his sweeping outside. Luitgard took the opportunity created by the solitude to say her prayer over her lunch before she ate. Though the soup was thin, the nourishment was welcome. They were nearly finished when Arnold hurried into the room.

Though it did not look like he had actually been running, he also did not look like a man accustomed to much physical activity. He had sweat pouring down his face.

"Boy!" he said as he came to their table and sat down. "Do you have any more of that wonderful fabric anywhere? Even if you have to make more?"

Justin shook his head and apologized.

"I will pay you to make more for me," he said.

"We really can't," Justin said. "We have to leave tomorrow."

Arnold would not be deterred. "I have never sold fabric so fast or for so much," he said. "Let me convince you to become my supplier. Together, we could become as rich as kings."

"We really can't" Justin repeated.

"Then come to my home tonight for supper," he insisted. "Give me a chance to change your mind. At least give me that!"

When Justin hesitated in his reply, Arnold added more quietly. "At least do that for me, or perhaps the king would like to know who has been using woad without the proper permission."

Luitgard wanted to protest. They had violated no laws making her fabric and to say she had would be an outright lie, one that could greatly harm them. Justin knew her too well. She felt his hand on her knee beneath the table. He squeezed hard.

"We will join you tonight," he said. "But it may not be possible to make any more for quite some time."

Arnold waved his hand dismissively. "What is in Vienna except an old bunch of musicians and scholars?" he asked. "I am offering you gold beyond your dreams. Come to my house and I will make you see sense."

"I never said we were going to Vienna," Justin said.

A smile spread across Arnold's lips and looked at Luitgard, "A Germanic girl trying to sell fabrics to pay for travel from Stare Mesto likely means nothing else. I'll see you this evening."

He did not wait for formalities to leave.

"What do we do?" Luitgard whispered.

Justin stared at the table in front of him. "Go to dinner," he said.

That evening, reluctant as they were, they walked back down the lane to Arnold's shop. When they arrived, the table that had been on the street had already been moved inside and the door was shut. However, when Justin knocked heavily upon it, it took only moments for Arnold's daughter to open the door and welcomed them inside.

"I'm Magdalena," she said as they entered the room.

When Justin began to tell her their names, she stopped them. "Father already told me. He is quite taken with both of you," she said. "Follow me."

Luitgard realized that where there had appeared to be a solid wall with shelves upon it earlier, there was an opening. A section of the wall was upon hinges so that it could open to the rear of the house.

"Is the city so unsafe that you need to hide?" Luitgard asked, worried that they may be in for trouble on their way back to the inn.

Magdalena shook her head. "My father wants as much space as possible devoted to making money," she explained. "This area is likely one of the safer ones in the city. They do not bar us in here at night like they do several streets over."

Booming laughter echoed from the other room. Arnold's daughter smiled. "Father has been enjoying the wine for some time already," she said. "The sale of your fabrics have put him in a very good mood."

Through the passage, the house opened into a room with a large table that was currently occupied by Arnold and two other girls who looked to be eleven and nine years of age. They looked like miniature versions of Magdalena. A fire was lit in a stone hearth on the long wall of the room. It appeared to be the only source of light, but there were so many logs upon the fire that it was sufficient to see clearly.

On the far side of the room, there was a narrow opening. Luitgard was not sure what was on the other side, for Magdalena led them to the table and gestured for them to sit across from the other girls.

On the table were bowls and plates filled with rolls and cheeses.

"Good! You are here!" Arnold announced in a voice too loud for the space.

"My little Dorota was just trying to bargain her way into some of your special cloth," he said. "Just like her father, she is."

The eleven-year-old flushed and looked down at her lap.

Arnold gestured at the nine-year-old. "This is my Anna," he said.

"You are so lucky to have three girls," Luitgard said without thinking. She did not remember the Romans of her youth being very positive towards the women.

"Indeed, I would be," said Arnold, "But I do not have three; I have five." He drawled out the last word and punctuated it with a wave of his finger. "My Katerina and Markéta are grown and married now," he explained. "Katerina is expecting her first child before winter."

He lifted his cup and took a long drink from his wine. While he was occupied with his drink, a woman entered from the mystery room, carrying a large plate with a cooked bird on it. She looked just like the other girls but many years older. Luitgard assumed she was their mother.

"The duck is ready," she announced as she set it on the table amongst the other plates.

The smell of the roasted bird seduced Luitgard's senses. The sweetness made her mouth water.

"My wife Klára is a magnificent cook," Arnold announced as he set down his cup. "I would never be so large if she were not."

As she took a seat at the opposite end of the table from Arnold, she laughed. "He always says that but it is just his excuse to avoid paying for servants because he is too cheap."

"And of course it is, woman!" he yelled with a smile. "The duck costs enough without paying someone to cook it."

Klára smiled back at her husband before clasping her hands and bowing her head. While her daughters did the same, Arnold rolled his eyes. Justin chose to copy the girls but Luitgard did not feel right praying to the Goddess in a Christian household. She thought of her and in her mind hoped that her people would remain hidden and safe but with none of the usual language of a Mintharch devotion.

After the prayer, Klára insisted Justin and Luitgard eat as much as they could.

"How long have you been married?" she asked as they gathered rolls, cheese, and duck onto their plates.

"Only just," Justin said without hesitation.

"Your parents waited quite some time to marry you off," she said to Luitgard. "You are lucky to have found a man at all."

Luitgard nearly choked on the bread she had put into her mouth. The obstruction turned out to be a blessing, for it prevented her from reflexively responding with offense.

"Her father was very poor and sick and needed a nurse maid," he said. "He died last winter."

Klára bowed her head. "I am sorry to hear that, dear. May he rest in peace."

"Thank you," Luitgard replied, her sense having returned to her. Playing the meek and obedient wife was harder than she thought it would be. She had spent her entire life trying to prove how strong and capable she was to lead.

Arnold set his cup down on the table with enough force that Luitgard looked at him. "You had only your father?"

"Yes," she said.

"And he was very poor and died only last winter?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

He nodded and ripped off a large mouthful of duck but he did not stop watching her.

The night wore on and they talked of the weather, the growth of the town, and the German immigrants who seemed to be passing through in ever greater numbers on their way to Jihlava. They continued to talk, and Arnold continued to drink. To Luitgard's astonishment, he began to seem clearer headed the more he drank.

Finally, Klára led the girls upstairs to bed. Justin had insisted he and Luitgard take their leave for the night as well but Arnold wanted them to stay.

When they were alone in the room, he looked at Luitgard. His eyes were clear and his face relaxed.

"Tell me who you are afraid of, girl," he said.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she replied, straightening her posture and focusing her eyes upon the fire.

Arnold leaned back in his chair, the only one with a back on it. The dried and cracked wood gave a loud creak.

"A woman does not pretend to be a friar's wife for nothing."

A quiet gasp escaped her but she refused to look away from the fire. She hoped Justin would intervene but even if he had wanted to say something, Arnold continiued.

"A woman does not make the finest fabric I have ever seen, with the most expensive and highly regulated dye, without anyone else hearing about it. A woman does not make such a thing to sell every scrap and not intend it to start a business. Tell me why you are so afraid."

"I am no friar," Justin said, still clinging to their lie despite how easily Arnold had seen through it.

Arnold pursed his lips and nodded slowly. Then he stood and walked into the other room. When he returned, he said, "Then you will not be needing these back," before throwing Dominican robes at Justin.

Justin's jaw clenched as he looked at the robes.

"You forgot to take them out of one of the sacks," Arnold explained. "But that was not the only reason. I recognized you. You've been to Stare Mesto before. I have never forgotten a face my entire life. I saw you at the church, in those very same robes. When you came to my shop, I wondered if I was getting too old, if my mind was finally going. Then I found the robes in the sack and knew I was right."

"Please do not tell anyone we have been here," Luitgard pleaded.

Arnold collapsed back into his seat and looked at them. "Who would I tell?" he said.

"You said earlier you would tell the king," Luitgard reminded him.

Arnold laughed. "That was my bluff, girl," he said. "The nobles enjoy my wares but do not trust me, too many poems about rotten pedlars and merchants," he explained. "I'm also wealthy without any of their blood. My existence threatens them. The only reason the king allows me to continue my work is that I pay him handsomely through my taxes." He took a long drink of his wine. "I doubt the king or any of the other nobles around here would care what I have to say."

"And the Church," Justin pressed.

Lifting his glass, Arnold gestured to Luitgard. "You were too busy praying but your girl here saw what I think of such things. I made my own fortune without God's help and the priests have the nerve to tell me I would have a harder time getting into Heaven for it. God and I have a mutual dislike for each other, I think." He set his cup down and leaned over the table to get a closer look at Justin. "But why would a friar be afraid of the Church?"

"I cannot say," Justin said.

Arnold shrugged. "To be honest, you do not intrigue me nearly as much as your girl," he said, turning to Luitgard. "You are a puzzle, my dear, a puzzle I would greatly love to solve."

"I am sorry," she said. "You have given us great hospitality and even greater help by purchasing the fabrics from us, but I can give you no answers."

"Perhaps I could live with that," he said. "But I find it difficult without the promise of more fabrics from you."

"And it would be impossible to get more to you ," she said.

He took another drink from his cup. "There is only one thing I would treasure more than that fabric," he said. "If I could ever get another dragon scale, it would be the one thing I would never sell."

"You're drunk," Justin laughed.

Arnold looked into his cup as if to confirm for himself Justin's assessment. "It's possible," he said, "But dragon scales do exist. They glitter like the purest water rippling beneath the sun and are the rarest thing on earth."

"Because they aren't real," Justin countered.

"That's where you're wrong," Arnold said. "Dragons exist but keep themselves hidden. So long as they have every last one of their scales, they are invincible. The moment the first scale is plucked by the dragon itself, that is gone. With every flight, more scales will fall. The flesh not protected by the scales is fragile and vulnerable so dragons do their best to hide from predators. When the final scale falls, the dragon dies." He finished the last of the liquid in his cup, then sat staring at his hand still holding it. "A dragon's scale is valuable not just because it is rare but because having one means you hold a part of the life of the dragon itself. It is a powerful thing."

"You missed your calling as a poet," Justin said. "You make it sound real."

Arnold looked at Luitgard. "She knows I'm right," he said.

She blinked and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I have never heard such a thing in my life," she said.

"Then you do not have one?"

She shook her head.

He shrugged before wiping his face with his palm. "Too much to hope for I guess." He took a deep breath. Luitgard noticed sweat had begun to glisten on his forehead. "Whatever you are trying to avoid," he said, "You will get no trouble from me. Your fabrics have won a place in my heart and so, you have too. If you need any help to get ready for the next part of your journey, let me know. And if you ever wish to request my help for any reason, I could always be persuaded for more of that fabric."

"You are incorrigible," Luitgard said.

Arnold smiled broadly. "My mind loves business," he said.

"There is one thing you could help us with," Justin interjected. "We need horses for the rest of our journey. Do you know where we could get a good price?"

Arnold scratched his chin. "I know of a man but he would take you for every penny you had on you," he said. "His horses are good but they are not that good. I can get a much better price if I buy them for you and you pay me back."

"Thank you very much," Luitgard said. She found herself liking this man even though she doubted it wise to ever trust him.

"I will have them at the inn for you first thing in the morning," he said with finality.

Minutes later, Justin and Luitgard had said good-bye to him for the night and were walking back to the inn; Justin holding his rolled up robes under his arm.

After taking a deep breath, Luitgard asked, "Do you think we can make it all the way to Rome? This is the first town we have come to and we have already been discovered by one of the first people we met. And we still have to get through Vienna without your mentor finding us."

"We definitely need to be more careful," he said. "But I also think Arnold is especially astute. He would have to be to garner as much wealth as he has."

"Perhaps you are right," she said, "But I am still terrified."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We will do this together. I promise."

She chuckled. "That is not reassuring. It is possible for us to die together you know."

"Yes," he said, "But that would be better than dying alone."

## Chapter 10

The first rays of the sun made the edges of the shutters glow. Luitgard watched the brightening of them with relief. She had not slept.

The tiny room in which they stayed had only one bed-if it could even be called that-and it was far too narrow for her and Justin to share it. Though she had been greatly relieved when he had suggested it, she did feel guilty when he insisted he sleep on the floor. Her guilt had only grown stronger when she lay awake, staring into the darkness. She had considered offering to switch with him, but worried waking him up would be far more rude if he were managing to rest well enough where he was.

If she had been asked exactly why she could not sleep, she would have been unable to say. Was it the stress and fear of what lay ahead? Was it how easily they had been discovered? Was it simply everything around her that was new? She felt it likely that it was all those things. Yet when she thought about each one in turn, they did not distress her nearly enough to explain the churning of her stomach.

She heard Justin roll over and thought she also heard a sigh.

"Justin?" she whispered.

"Yes?" he whispered back.

"Did you sleep?"

"A little. You?"

Instead of answering him, she asked, "Does it ever bother you? Being alone?"

For a moment he said nothing. Then he replied, "I've never really felt any other way."

A painful prickle formed in Luitgard's nose as the urge to sob nearly overtook her usual sense. Through her years of discipline, she pushed them deep inside her, down into the secret place behind her navel where she always hid such things. "I know what you mean," she whispered back, when she was sure she would not lose control of her tears.

The closest people in her life were Sieglinde and Adalbern and it was not until she had left on her adventure that she realized how distant even they were. Her biggest trouble, she realized as she stared at the beams above her, was that having no one dependent on her during every waking moment made her realize how alone she had always been since Dragonfather had disappeared.

He had always understood her. He had loved her and he had been everything good in her world. It had been a long time since she had had such a close relationship with anyone.

She swallowed hard. More tears were pushed into the hollow in her gut.

"Are you alright?" Justin asked softly.

"We need to get ready," she said. "Arnold might already be on his way with the horses."

They both rose and cleaned their faces using a bowl of water that the inn keeper had given them. It took several more minutes for Luitgard to comb and re-braid her hair. Finally, it lay neatly against her back and they walked down the stairs.

Arnold had not yet arrived so Justin paid the inn keeper for some bread and they sat at one of the many empty tables to eat it. They had long since finished their small breakfast and were beginning to wonder if Arnold's promise would be kept, when they finally heard horses pull up outside the inn. They did not wait for Arnold to come inside but walked out to meet him.

"I apologize for being so late," Arnold announced when he saw them approach. "Against my protests, my wife insisted I send you off with proper supplies. I told her you had money enough to buy your own but she threatened to start giving away some of the jewellery if I did not do as she said."

He patted one of the large saddle bags slung over one of the two tawny horses he had brought with him. The horses looked healthy enough though there was little remarkable about them. Luitgard doubted a nobleman would have bothered with such as them.

"There is enough food to keep you fed for several days," he explained. "She included breads and cheeses. I think she even stuffed some kind of pot or pan into one of these. She even included one of her own dresses. She thinks you will find safer accommodations and less trouble if you look better than serfs with horses. I will have to explain to her how much generosity costs," he grumbled, then added with a grin, "Unless of course you happened to promise me more of that fabric as compensation for the trouble."

Luitgard looked down her nose at him but said nothing.

"Yes, yes," he said. "I know."

He turned to the saddle bag he had patted and checked that it was secure. "There are some blankets and tools in some of these too," he said. "There is even a small bit of room left for the few belongings you are carrying. You should have an easy ride to Vienna." Then he lifted up his hand and pulled off one of his heavy gold rings.

"Take this to a fabric vendor named Leopold in Vienna," he said. "Every merchant in Christendom knows him. When he sees this ring, he will help you in whatever way you ask."

"Thank you, Arnold," Luitgard said as she took the offered ring and enclosed it tightly in her fist. "Though I do not trust your motives, I appreciate all of your help."

He smiled at her again. "A smart girl, just as I thought," he said. "Keep thinking like that, and you will survive whatever it is you are so afraid of."

Luitgard nodded before stepping forward to stand next to the horse. She transferred her shawl and her comb into the least bulging saddle bag.

"That is a lovely comb," Arnold said. "As beautiful as something I would have sold."

"It was a gift from my grandfather," she said.

Arnold smiled and nodded. "I am sure he was a wonderful man. That comb likely cost a dragon's scale."

"Something I am sure you would fight an army to get for your shop," she teased.

He smiled, "Of course! But I told you last night. If I ever got another one, I would not be so foolish as to sell it this time."

"You really do believe you once had one," she said.

He smiled. "I dream of jewels."

She shook her head as she laughed but any lightness in her mood that their conversation had brought faded quickly as she secured the flap on the saddle bag and moved to grab the saddle. Her fingers had become cold and tense. The last time she had ridden a horse, she had been with Dragonfather, but she did not want anyone else to know that. She tried to pull herself up with little success.

Within a moment, Justin was by her side. "Let me help you," he said, bending and holding out his cupped hands for her to use as a step.

She took the offer and managed−though not entirely gracefully−to get herself onto the horse. She remembered enough to know not to put her leg over it. As silly as it was, she had to keep both legs draped over the same side. In that position, she was sure she would fall.

As Justin climbed onto his own mount, there were a couple of times that she was convinced she really was slipping from the saddle. Despite her inexperience and her fear, she managed to stay upright and on the horse.

"Thank you, Arnold," Justin called down to their unlikely helper. "I hope we see you again."

Arnold nodded. "As do I," he said. "I'm hoping you will bring me sacks of fabric and the stories behind your journey. I never did much like not knowing something."

They said good-bye and Justin urged his horse forward. To Luitgard's surprise, her horse followed without hesitation or instruction.

Arnold saw the reaction on her face and smiled broadly. "Yet another suspicion confirmed," he called as they drew away from him. "I picked that mare especially for you. I will indeed expect those stories when you pass through here again." He did not wait to watch them leave. He turned and began to walk back down the lane towards his shop.

Leaving the city was a simple matter but the road was busy with all kinds of travellers. Much of it was slow moving carts that held them up for several minutes until the traffic thinned out enough for Justin to lead them through the crowds.

Luitgard's fingers were uncomfortably clenched in tight fists around her reins. She doubted she would be able to stretch out her fingers again anytime soon.

The weather was pleasant and sunny. Though this seemed a mercy at first, after another hour beneath the sun's heat, Luitgard wished it would cloud over and rain. The heat on her face only exacerbated her exhaustion. Her shoulders began to slump. Her face began to droop. Her bent knee began to prickle. She had no idea how she would make it through the rest of the day and was now even beginning to wonder how she would fare over the next week it would take to get to Vienna.

The handle of the dagger pressed into her ribs. She forced her back to straighten and her eyes to open. She was the matriarch of the Mintharchs. If she could not handle a horse ride, how could she handle anything?

She wondered how Sieglinde was doing. Were the Goddess Maids running amok without Luitgard's firm presence? Would her sister priestess step up and fill that role now that it was needed?

Guilt twisted in her chest. Leaving her home truly did seem so much more selfish when she was on the road. Her hope of finding Dragonfather alive dwindled to nothing.

"We should take a short break," Justin called back to her.

She looked up and realized they were alone now. The faster traffic had left them behind and the carts had failed to keep up. For now, they had the peaceful lack of scrutiny.

Though she nodded in response, his back was to her. He pulled over to the side of the road where a small stand of trees opened near a stream. He dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a tree branch. Before she had figured out how to get herself down, he was at her horse's side and reaching up to hold her waist to help her down.

"Thank you," she murmured, too exhausted to protest.

"There is a nice spot under that tree over there," he said. "You can lay down and have a rest. I will wake you when we need to get going again."

She did as he suggested and lay down upon the mossy earth. At that moment, the ground beneath her was softer, more comfortable, and more welcoming than any bed. Sleep claimed her with no trouble.

She was standing on the shores of the lake of her home. She was not far from the dying shack for she could see the Manor across the water from her. She smiled at her beautiful home and her pulse raced with her happiness to be back.

The sky was cloudless and vibrant blue. The trees jerked and swayed in the wind but she could not hear the leaves. She felt none of the breeze on her face or against her body. The birds were silent too. When she looked down, the water at her feet was as black as a raven's wing.

"Luitgard."

The whisper was clear in the absence of all the other sounds that should have been. Her heart raced faster as she realized whose voice it was. Deep and rough, a voice that could lull even the most unhappy child into peaceful sleep.

"Dragonfather?" she called.

"Luitgard."

She turned to face the direction from which it had come. She could see the dying shack.

She walked slowly through the trees.

"Luitgard."

"I am coming Dragonfather," she said.

When she reached the shack, she could see through the opening the silhouette of a man inside. She recognized that build; the height, the barrel chest, the round head.

"Dragonfather, what is it?" she asked as she reached the opening.

He looked just as she remembered. Not a single hair had changed its place. His blue eyes were focused upon her.

"Where are you Luitgard?" he asked.

"I am right here," she said, confused. "Do you not see me?"

"Where are you?" he asked again. Then his eyes went wide.

For the first time, Luitgard saw fear in his eyes. She had known him to be serious and joyful, but never afraid. He looked over his shoulder.

"This cannot be," he said. His body disappeared in a wisp of cloud in the shape of a wyvern.

Luitgard was about to call out to him when she felt the rapid movement of her shoulder. She awoke to see Justin smiling down at her. "Time to get moving," he said.

She did her best to nod her understanding but when he turned to go back to the horses, she stay resting upon the ground, staring at the movement of the water in the stream.

If dreams were omens, she had absolutely no idea what that dream had meant. Had Dragonfather been wondering why no one had come to rescue him? Was he in danger?

With an uneasy stomach, she pushed herself to her feet and joined Justin by the horses.

## Chapter 11

Sieglinde's eyes had trouble focusing upon who was shaking her awake. When she realized through the dark that it was Humbert she felt a jumble of confused emotions. Reality quickly swept them away.

"Uncle has sent me to fetch you," he said. "There is trouble."

She jumped out of bed and in only her chemise, followed Humbert out of the manor and to the walls. Since the storm of many days prior, it had been raining without respite until that very evening. With the sky now clear, the temperature had dropped dramatically. The moistness to the air didn't help. She wrapped her arms around herself and only moved them away from her body again to climb to the ladder to the battlements. Her muddy feet slipped on the rungs of the ladder but she managed to complete the climb without serious incident.

Adalbern was looking out into the forest and did not turn to her.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

She followed his gaze. It was not difficult to see what he meant. The bright spot of firelight was the only thing that was distinguishable in the darkness.

"A forest fire?" she asked, never thinking she would be saying such a thing hopefully.

He shook his head. "Someone is camping out there," he said, "Within the line of the barrier."

"Do they know we are here?" she asked, still desperate to be given some reassurance, no matter how much she knew it would not come.

"It showed up not long ago," he said. "It is possible that whoever it is has not seen the walls yet." He tilted his head towards the sky. There was no moon. They were lucky for that.

"It's just a single fire," she reasoned. "Do you think we can kill whoever it is?"

He nodded. "Exactly what I had planned to suggest. I will do it myself."

"Thank you," Sieglinde said as she felt her shoulders relax.

Adalbern climbed down from the walls, enlisting Humbert and two other young sentries named Kuno and Florian to join him.

Before Humbert climbed down, Sieglinde grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed it. He seemed surprised and unsure of what to do but after a moment of standing frozen, he squeezed her hand back.

"We will not be gone long," he said.

She watched him climb down the ladder before turning back to the forest. Though the drawbridge was well maintained and made little noise as it was slowly lowered, the rattle of the chains were the most deafening thing of her life at that moment. Once it was down, she breathed again. It was too dark to see the men walking into the trees so she focused upon the distant light and prayed to the Goddess that it would be extinguished.

The breeze caught at her loose hair. More than once, she had to pull locks away from her face. Despite the distraction, she did not move her eyes from the dot of light. She shivered, not entirely sure it was due to the cold, but still kept her eyes upon the glow. Her heart pounded in her ears but still the light remained.

Each of the nightly forest sounds stabbed at her eardrums. Each one was entirely indistinguishable from that caused by animal, friend, or monster. The light remained. She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and began to whisper, "Please," over and over. The light remained. It felt as though the entire world around her would fall away before that light was extinguished.

It flickered. Her breath caught.

It went out.

Her entire body relaxed at the same moment and finally allowed her to take in a proper breath.

Several minutes later, she heard the rattles and creaks of the drawbridge being closed; this time with much more speed and less care than had been used when it had been lowered. She rushed down the ladder. At the bottom, she was relieved to see all four of the men had returned and none appeared injured but Adalbern had something round held under one arm.

"We must show you something," he said, leading her back into the gatehouse where a torch was lit without fear of the light showing beyond the walls.

He lifted the round object and it reflected the torchlight. It was a helmet.

"He was a soldier," Adalbern said. "It appears he was on his own but that worries me."

"Why?" she asked, "Isn't that better than an army finding us?"

"A lone soldier could be a scout."

"But you've killed him. He cannot report anything," she said.

He nodded. "But when he does not return, they may send more."

She became acutely aware, to the point that her skin prickled uncomfortably, that all the men were watching her and waiting for her response. And at that moment she very much hated Luitgard.

"How much time do you think we have?" she asked.

Adalbern considered. "At worst, a day," he said, "At best, until the end of the world. I doubt any sooner. The scout was camping, so his army cannot be that close. They may not even know he is missing until tomorrow evening."

She nodded in acknowledgement of his answer. "We need to send out as many as we can first thing in the morning and harvest as much as we can. Find the cows in the pastures and some of the lambs and bring them within the wall. Fill the storehouse and the manor as if winter were coming. Go to the smithy and get Conrad to work on as many weapons as they can manage. And try to come up with a way to fortify the walls. They may have penetrated the barrier but we cannot allow them to penetrate the wall. And make sure you harvest so much there is nothing left. If they come, we must outlast them."

Adalbern nodded firmly. "I will start preparations immediately."

Sieglinde thanked him. As she left to return to the manor, her cheeks became hot. Humbert was watching her.

## Chapter 12

The days and nights it took to reach Vienna blurred together. On a couple of nights, Luitgard and Justin were able to lodge in small inns, but for the rest they camped. The trees and the fields passed by in a green streak. Luitgard's exhaustion obscured any of the beauty she might have seen.

She had been wearing Klára's dress which had added to her discomfort. The arms pinched her skin while the faded yellow dye of the fabric reminded Luitgard of home.

When they crossed the Danube and she saw the Romanesque towers of the cathedral in the centre of the city, she felt a mixture of relief that the latest part of their journey had come to an end and dread that they would be unable to evade Justin's mentor.

Justin had seen the towers too. "Any other time in my life," he said, "Those towers would have given me comfort. If I were in any other kind of trouble, I could even have sought sanctuary there, but there is no such place for me anymore."

She said nothing but she felt his sentiment apt. The very same destruction of security had happened to her.

The moment they passed through the gates, both she and Justin kept their eyes open for a fabric merchant named Leopold. Arnold had not been lying. Everyone knew Leopold. In no time at all, they were riding up to his home, a structure even larger than Arnold's with even more tables out front. As they approached, a tall man with a large belly was yelling at a man with a pedlar's cart.

They appeared to be arguing over the cost of some wares the pedlar was selling. When Leopold pointed out the man was required to sell something to him, and good luck finding another merchant willing to offer a better price, the pedlar relented and handed over a small bundle, the contents of which Luitgard had no hope of guessing.

The tall man gave him a small pouch of coins in return and the pedlar left.

"Are you Leopold?" Justin asked.

The man nodded but his brow was still creased from his dealings with the pedlar.

"We have something for you from Arnold," Luitgard said, holding out the ring.

He snatched it and began to examine it an inch from his nose. "Will wonders never cease," he muttered. "I always thought he sold it." He looked up at Luitgard, ignoring Justin entirely. "You must have some talent to get him to return this to me."

"I knew nothing about it until he asked me to give it to you," she said. "He told me you could help us on our journey."

He squinted at her. "What kind of help do you need?"

"For the moment, just directions to an inn," Justin said.

Leopold turned his squint on Justin. "Arnold would not have sent this with you if he thought that was the only help you required," he explained. "Who are you running from?"

Luitgard straightened. "No one," she said. "We just have a long journey ahead of us and need a place to have a good rest for a day or two."

For a moment he considered. "There are two places safe enough and in respectable areas that I could recommend to you," he said and then gave them directions to each of them.

One was an inn across from the cathedral and the other, in the wealthier part of the city, was the house of a lower noble who rented rooms to wealthier pilgrims. Justin and Luitgard thanked Leopold and left.

They did not even discuss which they would chose. They both turned away from the cathedral and headed to the noble's house. There was a stable nearby where they could pay to house the horses. They did so and walked the rest of the way.

Upon seeing their simple clothes dirty from the road and their meager belongings, the noble yelled at them for thinking his home no better than a stable. It was only when Justin said Leopold had sent them that the man relented and allowed them to purchase board for the night. Luitgard had hoped they could spend more than a day in Vienna, just to rest her bottom if nothing else, but the room was expensive and they dared not spend any more in a single city. They were taking risk enough appearing to be able to afford such a place even for one night. Two nights would guarantee scrutiny.

That evening, they sat in the main room eating a dinner of lamb kebabs, rolls, and cheese. There were several other guests eating their own meals. Luitgard said her meal prayer silently in her head.

Though Luitgard and Justin kept to themselves, they could not avoid overhearing the others.

"Did you hear?" a haughty woman asked her husband. "Some ladies in the market were saying today that the king's men found pagans living north of here."

Luitgard stopped eating mid-chew.

"There are all sorts of pagans north of here," her husband said, unimpressed.

"But these were planning to kill the king," she said. "They were amassing an army and performing horrible rituals."

Her husband was still unconvinced. "And sleeping with their sisters and eating their babies too I suppose," he said. "Such tales are as old as God. You are so gullible woman."

With a large harrumph she said, "Well, either way, I heard the king's men killed every last one of them. At least he had some sense. If you were in charge, we would all be slaughtered in our beds and our innards offered up to some pagan god."

Luitgard had lost her appetite. Her heart was skipping too quickly for her to think of anything but what the woman had said. Had the Mintharchs been killed? Had it been because she had left them? The tilt of the room no longer seemed right.

Justin appeared to notice her distress. He set down the large piece of cheese he was about to eat and suggested they return to their room.

"The man was right; there are many known pagans to the North," Justin reasoned as they climbed the stairs. "They were likely Norse."

"Or Mintharchs," she said, feeling as though she were about to vomit.

When they reached their room, Justin changed the subject. "What do you think of Leopold?" He asked as he tried to make another firm bed for himself on the floor. At first Luitgard thought him callous for it, until she realized he was likely trying to help her feel better.

"I think we will be gone by morning and he will not matter," she said.

Though she had not lied, she was not as easy about him as she had sounded. There was something about their meeting with Leopold that had unsettled her. She shook her head to clear the thought. She was in a very different place than she was accustomed. She was probably imagining it.

As Justin continued to fight with the blanket, Luitgard walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can have the bed tonight," she said. "I never end up sleeping on these horrid things anyway."

After a moment, he relented and left the blanket to her to climb into the bed himself. When he was settled, she said good-night and blew out the candle.

She walked to the window and pushed open one of the shutters. The Goddess' womb , the crescent moon, hung in the sky above her.

"Please," she whispered. "Let me know they are safe."

She waited, leaning against the sill of the window, for even the smallest sign the Goddess had been listening. There was none. The streets below were empty and quiet. Even the inn fell silent as the last of the well-adorned guests found their beds.

Justin began to snore behind her.

Footsteps echoed from further down the lane. They were followed by the creak of a door and the thunk of it being pulled shut. Luitgard continued to wait for the sign. The moon continued its trek across the sky undisturbed by her concerns. He joints became stiff as she waited. Nothing came.

Hours later, after her tears had been exhausted, she gave up waiting for the Goddess' reassurance and tried to find rest upon the floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Luitgard was not sure where the dripping was coming from all of a sudden. The sky had been clear. The only water in the room was in the bowl and there had been no sound to indicate it had been disturbed. It was too dark for her to see anything.

Drip. Drip.

"Please!" The voice cracked as it begged. The despair of it echoed upon stone walls. But the distress and the echo were not enough for it to evade her recognition.

"Dragonfather?"

"Luitgard, please!" There was a loud crack and he shouted in pain.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Dragonfather?"

At first there was no response. She could hear nothing except the dripping.

"Luitgard," he whispered through his anguish. Drip. Drip.

"Dragonfather? Where are you? What have they done to you?"

Drip.

"No. No! No, no, no, no no." His desperation was followed by another crack. He screamed with the force of the bottom of his lungs. When they were spent, he panted.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

"Dragonfather!"

"Help me, please."

He screamed once more. The tone of it reached out loud and long. The vibration of it tore through her body and her adrenaline jolted her awake. Her muscles tingled like they were being burned away by acid.

The room was bright. Justin was stirring. She flexed her fingers repeatedly and watched her skin stretch over her knuckles as she did so. She was awake. Was she not?

Justin cleaned himself and dressed. Moments later, she did the same. When they went down the stairs, they could hear the church bells begin their morning call. Leopold was sitting at one of the tables, eating.

"On your way to Church?" he asked with a smile as he wiped his mouth and stood. "I will walk with you."

"We have a long ride ahead of us still," Justin said.

"And snubbing the Lord is no way to start a long journey," Leopold insisted. "You should be blessing your journey in a sanctuary of God." He wrapped an arm around Justin's shoulders to guide him from the inn.

"But we have not had a chance to break our fast," Luitgard said.

Leopold waved his hand dismissively. "Your own fault for sleeping in," he said. "Even if the Lord would wait, the priests will not."

Feeling powerless to protest further without appearing suspicious, Justin and Luitgard relented and walked with Leopold down to the cathedral.

The streets outside the large stone church were filled with people on their way to mass. A little girl sat on the edge of the stone steps, a basket of flowers in her lap. She was singing and braiding the stems of the flowers together. Several more flowers had been set in her dark hair.

When the crowd slowed as it squeezed through the doors, Luitgard could hear her song.

_The crows fly upon the north wind_

_Their bellies are full of flesh_

_Your caw echoes to the south wind_

_For there is his life and truth._

"Justin," she whispered. "Did you hear that girl's song?"

His face was as stone and he had his eyes forced down to focus upon the back of the man in front of him. "What about it?" he asked out of the side of his mouth.

"Have you ever heard it before?"

"No, why? It's just a girl making up songs."

She did not answer. She was sure the song was for her. With everything inside her, she knew it. But what did it mean? Crows were carrion eaters. She swallowed hard, forcing down the dry lump in her throat. She looked back at Justin.

They were surrounded by people and yet all she wanted to do was tell him everything. She needed to know what he thought. This journey was as much his as it was hers.

Her guts twisted and she thought she might vomit right there in the middle of the crowd. If her people were dead, she knew it was her fault−her stupidity−for insisting upon leaving them.

In desperation, she reached out and took Justin's hand in hers. He squeezed it back but kept his eyes forward and his mouth shut.

The people spread out once they were inside the cathedral. Justin used the opportunity to separate them from Leopold. He held Luitgard's hand more tightly and pulled her behind him as he traversed the crowd. He dodged and pushed the people as best he could until they were at another door in a corner of the church. It was a small door that looked like it was rarely ever used, especially not by the throngs. He opened it just enough to push around it and pull her through before slamming it shut again.

"We need to hurry to leave the city," he said.

She nodded her agreement and they ran, hand-in-hand, back to the stables near the inn to retrieve their horses. As they readied the animals, a man's voice made them both freeze.

"Justin, it is not like you to miss mass," the man called from the entrance.

Luitgard and Justin were both on the far side of their horses from the entrance but he was across the aisle from her. He did not speak. He indicated with a small flick of his head and several mouthed words for her to hide. When he saw that she was crouching down behind a small wall to do just that, he walked out from behind his horse and replied to the man.

"It has been a long time, Merek."

Merek walked closer. Luitgard heard the crunching of hay as she crouched lower and pressed herself into the wall.

"Did you find God's truth?" Merek asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Justin said. "I am still looking for one more thing."

Merek laughed. "I think you found her," he said. "You thought God wanted you to find what is between a pagan woman's legs?"

Luitgard could hear nothing but when Merek spoke again, he was not laughing.

"Watch yourself, Justin. Your great grandfather was just like you," he said bitterly. "He would not listen to me when he should have."

"I did listen to you," Justin said through clenched teeth. "I did exactly what you wanted and I suspect everything is happening exactly as you planned."

Luitgard's horse relieved itself inches away from her. The fresh stench nearly curled her toes and she had to clap her hand over her mouth to prevent cursing because of it.

"Well," Merek said, "Thanks to me, we are quite pleased with you. You have made even one as far away as Rome happy. After all, you have helped with a decades-old problem."

"What do you mean?"

After a moment, Merek called, "Come out little pagan. I know you are here."

Luitgard did not move.

Merek huffed. "I saw the two of you come in here. Do not be completely stupid. Or perhaps you would like it if I came and fetched you."

"Come out now, Luitgard," Justin said. The uncharacteristic panic in his voice drove her to comply. She stood up and walked out from behind her mare.

Merek was the same height as Justin but his frame was thicker. His black robes stretched across his broad shoulders. His face was square and hard and his eyes had no love in them. He looked her up and down.

"Now I see why you are travelling with her," he said with a sneer.

Luitgard stared forward, keeping her face impassive. She would not cower before anyone, even someone who appeared to enjoy his capacity for sadism.

"How did you know what I would find?" Justin asked.

Merek moved only his eyes back to focus on Justin. "An old mentor," he said, before returning his attention to Luitgard. "One I saw in Rome ... perhaps it was 12 years ago? Was that it?"

Luitgard took in a sharp breath and instantly wanted to hit herself for it.

He smiled. "I have many old friends and they are always telling me the most interesting stories. That is still the most enthralling one I've heard so far but Leopold told me quite an enlightening one last night about two travellers who seemed to have reason to run from the church."

Merek smirked and nodded. "Poets may be unfair in describing some merchants," he said, "In Leopold's case, they were too kind. It is best never to trust a merchant, pagan. Merchants are as clever as they come, at least the successful ones are. Can't become as rich as a king if you are a halfwit."

Luitgard did not even care about Leopold. She had never trusted him, but Merek's insinuations about her Dragonfather had nearly knocked her over.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"I am quite sure you left him back at the church," Merek said. "Don't you remember?"

"You know that is not who I mean!" she yelled, stamping her foot like a child. "What have you monsters done with him?"

Merek smiled again. "Is that why you are headed this way? You are looking for him in Rome?" He chuckled. "Then ride fast, my little pagan. Though it might already be too late. God knows you have already failed at saving your entire race. The Pope was very interested to learn that one of his most loyal had become a Cathar and was hiding with his cult in the Spreewald."

She tried to lunge at him, but Justin held her back.

Merek laughed again. "Is she that fiery beneath the sheets, Justin? I have to say I am surprised. I thought you actually took your vows seriously."

"Get out, Merek," Justin seethed.

Merek shrugged. "I have other matters to attend to anyway." He turned and walked from the stables, humming to himself.

"What is wrong with your church that it has men like that in it?" she yelled as she threw his arms off her.

"Few are as twisted as Merek," he said. "He joined the Church to gain protection for his misdeeds. He cares nothing for God's laws. He does what those above him want and Heaven help you if you are below him."

Justin kicked at a pile of hay. "I should have figured it out back then," he grunted. "I was the only one below him that he was ever kind to. He's been using me this whole time. There is no point going back to Rome. He just answered all my questions."

Luitgard returned to securing her saddle. "Well he did not answer mine," she said. "Dragonfather must be in Rome and he is in trouble."

Justin walked up to her and rested his hand on hers, preventing her from moving it. "And what of your people?"

The little girl's song came back to her as did the noblewoman's story from the night before. Her chest tightened, forcing all her emotions upward until her tears fell freely from her face. "You heard him. You heard the woman last night and that girl's song this morning. They are already dead." She rested her forehead against the saddle. "I have already failed them."

"You cannot be sure of that," he said. "If we turn back now, we might still be able to help them."

She shook her head. "If the barrier has been breached, I have no way to help. The Goddess has left them. If the barrier is strong, Merek may be hoping we return and lead him straight to them. And ... " she took a deep breath. Her fingers were trembling. "Dragonfather's life may still be saved."

"You have about as much way of knowing that as you do of knowing what has happened to your home," he insisted. "Now that Merek has seen us, they will be waiting for us. They may even see to it that we are murdered on the road."

She fell to her knees. "I don't know what to do," she cried as Justin wrapped his arms around her.

In her mind, she could see Sieglinde and Adalbern. She could see Oda and Julia grinding herbs and Boris and Friedmann carrying the logs for the storehouse. She would never see any of them again and it was her fault. She _had_ failed already.

To return to see the dead bodies was not within her capability. Even the thought of what mangled limbs and lifeless faces she might see made her muscles weak. She could not remember them that way.

She could see the dying shack and her dream came back to her. Dragonfather had asked where she was. He had been waiting for her and he was afraid. He needed help out of Rome. He needed her help. She would not fail again.

"I have to go to Rome," she said between sobs. "He needs me."

Justin began to stroke her hair. "You realize it could take another month to get there," he whispered.

"I have to try." She heaved a sniff.

"And it would be another month and a half before we made it back," he added. "If the others need our help, that could be far too long to wait. Can you live with that?"

She buried her face into his chest. "Never," she whispered. "But I already am."

"And you still want to risk your life going to Rome?"

She looked into his eyes. "I have to."

He pulled her to her feet and held her close. "Then I will stay with you," he said, "And when we have found your grandfather. I will get you home."

## Chapter 13

Sieglinde stood on the drawbridge and looked down at the black alder spikes that now filled the dry moat. Then she looked across the churned up earth in the clearing in front of the wall. Her chest heaved with a weighted sigh. The late afternoon sun was hot on her cheek.

"We are almost finished for the day," Adalbern called to her as he approached with a large sack over each shoulder.

She watched as he and several others returned with the day's harvest. Their sacks were not as full as she would have liked to see but there was little that could be done about it. A proper harvest was still almost a month away. Not only did she worry about the quantity of stores that she would have for her own people in case of a siege, but also that the enemy would be well fed by her people's crops and hard work through the summer. The odds of outlasting an army in such a situation was not encouraging.

The mothers and crones had been working hard to reclaim every spare piece of ground on the peninsula for agriculture. It was late in the season to be planting. The earth in the area was not fertile for growing crops without years of work and the space was far too limited, but, again, they had little choice.

The only relief Sieglinde had had in the last week was that no other soldiers had been seen near the village. Patrols had been kept to late at night, which made it more difficult, but it was safer. Humbert had insisted upon volunteering every night and Sieglinde was beginning to worry for his health. The dark circles under his eyes had become a permanent aspect to his features and his skin was turning increasingly pale.

As she saw him heft another sack over his shoulder to drain the rye into barrels in the storehouse, she became determined to put a stop to his masochism.

"Humbert," she called. "When you are finished that, please come to the manor."

Though his brow knit with confusion, he nodded.

She paced the sunken floor of the hall as she waited. Several minutes later, he pushed open the manor door and entered.

"Yes, my priestess," he said. "What do you need me to do?"

She stopped pacing and looked at him. His features lacked the abuse of age but his eyes had always been those of a wise man. Her heart went weak as she focused upon them.

"I want you to sleep," she said.

He blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You need sleep. I am not sure how many days you have been without it, but it is obvious it is taking its toll." Though she had been trying her best to sound authoritative, she realized that she sounded−even to herself, slightly hysterical−She began to pace again, hoping that the movement would help her focus.

"I will manage," he said as his eyes followed her back and forth. "Uncle Adalbern gave me a few hours of rest this morning."

"You may think you can handle all this," she said. "You may think you are young enough to cope but everyone has limits. You need to stay healthy." The pacing was not working.

Humbert walked closer. "Sieglinde," he said quietly. "I will be fine."

She stopped. He had never said her name before. But there was no way she was going to let him be noble if it meant sacrificing his well-being. "I am not giving you a choice in the matter," she said. "I will be informing Adalbern that you are not to perform any more tasks until you have had a full night's rest."

He stepped closer. "And how do you think the other men would react to that kind of special treatment?" he asked.

"It is not special treatment," she insisted, though she did not look at him. "You have been pushing yourself too hard. You have been doing more than anyone."

"No," he said, stepping closer again. She could feel him near her left shoulder. "I have been doing just as much as everyone else. The other men have sacrificed their sleep, their meals, and even laying with their own wives to see that we are all prepared for what may come."

His hand rested on her shoulder.

"I cannot lose you," she said. "I am already so alone. Please do not leave me like Luitgard."

He spun her around and kissed her. She had no will to fight back even in the name of propriety. It was exactly what she wanted and she returned his affections without hesitation. His arms wrapped around her body and pulled her into him. Her fingers found their way around the back of his neck. As he pressed into her, she tried to press back, feeling that somehow, no matter how hard she tried, her body was not close enough.

When their lips pulled away and they were both breathing heavily, he whispered, "I do this so you will never lose me." He kissed away the tears on each of her cheeks. "We do not choose these things," he continued, "All we can do is our best to survive them."

"And if we do not survive?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes for several moments before descending upon her and kissing her once more. His efforts were more restrained this time. Though she wanted have him right there in the hall, the press of his lips was gentle and slow. When he finally pulled away for good, he said, "Adalbern will be wondering where I am."

He released her and walked from the hall. She stood staring after him, her body aching.

When her senses finally returned to her, she left the manor to help the women with the planting. Though her help was needed regardless, it was her selfish need to distract from what had just happened that drove her.

The women worked until the sun began to dip in the sky. Exhausted, dirty, and worried, they trudged back to the manor for the evening meal.

As Sieglinde stood to say the prayer, she saw how beaten down the women looked. They had been working hard. They had been working through the days, evenings, and−just like the men−even the nights. She was not the only one in despair. She was not the only one worried for those around her.

She wondered what Luitgard was feeling at that moment. Was she as worried for her people? Did she have any sense of what they could be facing at any moment?

Sieglinde ran through the Mintharch prayer quickly. She felt none of the truth of the words. When she finally said, "May you always remain hidden," she nearly lost her composure.

If it could have been possible, she would have given everyone a night to relax, but until they knew how real the threat to them was, they could not rest. She knew their current exhaustion was only the beginning. She just hoped they could survive.

She lowered herself slowly into her seat and stared at the stew before her. Though she was hungry, she did not want it. She considered pushing it away but forced herself to eat when her sense got the better of her. They had no food to waste and if they were attacked in the night, she would need as much strength as possible.

Mechanically, she pulled the spoon to her lips, and again, and again until the food was gone. She did not wait for the tables to be put away like Luitgard would have. She left for the empty solar.

The bench by the window seemed too much effort. She collapsed onto her bed fully clothed, allowing her mind to churn over all her worries.

The gentle caress of her cheek woke her.

"And you think I work too hard," she heard Humbert whisper. "I at least undress to go to bed."

The room was dark. It was the middle of the night. But she could tell he was kneeling next to her bed.

"Humbert?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"

He caressed her cheek again. "Very much alright," he said. "Uncle Adalbern appears to agree with you. He refused to let me go on patrol."

"Then why are you here?"

"I could not sleep," he said. There was a twang of humour in his tone. "I could not stop thinking about you."

Her heart skipped and her cheeks became hot.

"Is it alright for me to be here?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

He caressed her face again but this time his hand did not pull away. Despite the darkness, she could tell he was looking at her.

"No one has ever shown interest in me before," he said.

She laughed. "You must be blind. When you are shirtless and sweaty, the Goddess Maids can look at nothing else. It has become quite a problem during our outdoor lessons."

With a smile, he said, "I never meant to make your work more difficult." He withdrew his hand to wrap it around hers.

"I never said they were the only ones driven to distraction," she teased.

He looked down at their hands. "I have always noticed you too," he said. "I just never realized you felt the same way."

"I do."

He said nothing as he continued to stare at their hands. The contact of their skin tickled. She wished he would do more. She had been hoping for this for a long time, but with him simply watching her and doing nothing, she knew what she had said to Luitgard was right. If only he were not so young and inexperienced, it could be perfect.

She withdrew her hand and sat up.

"Why did you come here tonight?" she asked him.

There was another wretched hesitation. "I wanted to see you," he said.

"You see me every day. That is not the only reason you came."

He caressed her cheek again. It seemed to be as far as he could bring himself to go.

"It's alright," she said. "I care for you and have wanted you for many months now. You do not need to hold back."

She knew the real reason he hesitated had nothing to do with her, so she was not surprised when he seemed unable to act despite her reassurances. She leaned forward. "Have you ever kissed anyone before today?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"There was no one to kiss," he whispered back.

She smiled, leaning even closer. "You are a natural talent then."

Their lips were already so close that the temptation overcame his fear. He moved forward almost enough. She went the rest of the way and pressed her lips against his. Instinct and desire took over for both of them. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his encircled her body and they pulled each other close. Their mouths moved together in undulations until they could breathe no longer. She pressed a gentle kiss against his chin as she smoothed her hands over the fabric that covered his chest. She tugged at his shirt until she could pull it over his head. He raised his arms to help her slide it off.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked, her voice rough.

His hands were trembling as he pulled her close again. "Not really," he said. "I have never done this before."

She kissed his neck. "Neither have I," she said. "But I've been told what is done." She kissed the other side of his neck. "Let us figure it out together."

Her words seemed to give him confidence. His mouth was upon hers again, kissing her as if this precious moment would be ripped away from them without warning. Their kissing did not slow. They both wanted more than they had ever had and were determined to get it.

Though there had been awkwardness and even a little pain, their bodies had known more than they did. They had moved on each other until their bodies could take no more. As they lay sweaty in each other's arms, Sieglinde felt nothing but excitement. It would have been easier with an experienced man, someone to guide the process and to teach. But they were on equal footing with their lack of it. There was no judgement. They were exploring together and it had been wonderful even if scary at first.

Sieglinde stretched so that she could kiss him on the cheek before nuzzling his neck.

"I would have you for my wife," he whispered.

She pulled herself up so that she could kiss him properly. "I had never considered it would be any other way," she whispered back when their lips had parted.

When he spoke next, his voice began to lack the euphoria of their love making. "There is no High Priestess who can marry us," he said.

Her heart tightened. "You are right," she said, cursing Luitgard at that moment more than she had any day since her sister priestess had left them.

"When the High Priestess returns," he said. "I will make you my wife and worship you every night."

She nuzzled his neck but her guts had not recovered from speaking of Luitgard. Would they live to marry? "I love you," she said. Though she meant it, she had hoped to distract from her worries.

"And I you," he replied.

They fell asleep, still wrapped around each other on the floor.

The morning sun pierced through the cracks in the shutters. Sieglinde shivered and buried her face into Humbert's side. His thumb rubbed her arm just as the horn consumed the air around them.

They both sat up and looked at each other. Within seconds they were struggling to dress as fast as they could. Seconds later, Sieglinde was nearly tripping over her skirts as she rushed down the stairs. She did not even check to see if Humbert was behind her.

The horn blew again just as Sieglinde was blinded by the sun as she ran down the manor house steps. Men and women were emerging from their small homes, all looking up at the horn blower on the wall as they stepped into the morning.

Sieglinde nearly ran into Adalbern as he too emerged from his home running. The two of them climbed the gatehouse ladder and onto the battlements.

A line of five soldiers, widely spaced, stood along the edge of the wood across from the wall. Several paces in front of them, a sixth man stood looking up at them.

Sieglinde signalled the horn blower to stop.

In the silence, the lone man called to them. "I bring a message from his Holiness Pope Innocent the IV," he said.

"If we kill them now," Sieglinde said in a low voice to Adalbern, "More will come, will they not?"

He nodded. "It is obvious they know we are here. They will just send more men and then more until we are all slaughtered."

"Get more archers on this wall," she ordered, as Humbert reached the top of the battlements. When she looked at him, she added, "And I will need two others to watch this messenger inside the walls. The rest of the tactics, I leave to you for now."

Adalbern nodded.

She climbed back down, Humbert close behind. She sent for the rest of the sentries to protect the gate. When the two other men Dieter and Kuno had joined them and all three were armed with swords, the portcullis was raised just enough for them to duck underneath and the drawbridge was lowered. They walked to the end of the drawbridge and stopped.

"You may come forward," she called to the messenger, "But your soldiers must remain behind." With a hand, she indicated the archers upon the walls to emphasize her need for compliance.

Though her knees felt weak, she managed to remain upright and outwardly in control. If Humbert had not been at her shoulder, she doubted she would manage such a mask.

Sieglinde could not mistake the appraising look of the messenger as he eyed their defenses during his approach. He had tried to keep his eyes upon her, but she saw the flick of his gaze to the stone wall and the spikes in the ditch.

"Give your message," she said.

The man did as instructed. They were offered a chance to pledge fealty and in exchange they would be protected.

"And what is his price?" She asked, forcing her legs to remain strong. This was Luitgard's job. Sieglinde was never supposed to be this kind of leader to her people; giving orders of where to place archers and negotiating with Christians.

"You will turn the traitor Kilchain over to us and renounce the Cathars, in addition to the customary taxes of course."

"There is no Kilchain here," Sieglinde said, trying to keep the confusion from her voice. He had also used the word Cathars but she had no idea what he meant. As she wanted to appear knowledgeable and in control, she ignored it entirely. "Are you certain you have come to the right place?"

"There is no mistake," he said. "God wishes you to worship him properly. If you do not agree, we will take this village as an outpost to prevent any more of your kind from hiding here."

With the expected threat, Sieglinde found her courage again. There had never been any question what they would do if this happened. When she spoke once more, her voice was strong. "As there is no Kilchain here, we cannot comply even if we wanted to do so."

"Kilchain is here," the man said.

She smiled. "Perhaps we can discuss this better in the hall," she suggested sweetly as she indicated the gate. "I am sure we can come to some form of agreement."

When the messenger hesitated at her suggestion, she looked at Humbert and said, "We shall treat him with the utmost Christian hospitality." They had shown mercy to the first insider to come to them. That had been a mistake. She would do what Luitgard would have done if she had been acting like herself.

Humbert nodded his understanding and indicated with a hand for the messenger to follow.

The moment they were across the drawbridge, it began to close. The portcullis dropped with a deafening thud behind them and she gave the order. "Send his head over the walls."

Humbert's sword had not yet been dulled by use. It cut cleanly through the man's neck and his head bounced on the ground before rolling away. His body crumpled.

"I will not waste our precious stores feeding a prisoner," she said as she walked away.

Luitgard was gone, possibly even dead. Sieglinde needed to be the strong one now.

## Chapter 14

Luitgard could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Sleeping near the road had become familiar. The rough ground was no longer her issue. It was her guilt and her nightmares. She was making the wrong decision. She knew it, but she could not help it. She needed to go. She needed to find him again and save him from evil hands.

She heard Justin pushing at the fire with a stick. She rolled over and opened her eyes to look at the flames. When she saw what was feeding them, she pushed herself up.

His black robes were burning away before her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I may not have found God's truth yet," he said. "But I know where it is not."

"But you wanted to fix things. You wanted to make them better!"

He snorted. "Like you, I am only one person," he said. "A sword would fell me within a blink no matter my intentions. You heard Merek. I have served my purpose. They only ever wanted me for one thing. I don't even know why they chose me. Why not someone like Merek? He would have eagerly led an army to kill and rape you all."

Luitgard could not turn her eyes away from the fabric. She had none of the answers to his questions. He was the first person she knew who had ever passed through the barrier, but why him? Why did the Goddess let him through?

"You have not found your answers after all," she said.

"I confirmed the Church used me, which is what I was hoping to learn in Rome. I will never find God amongst their kind, if I ever find him at all."

She pulled her knees to her chest. "I am beginning to understand how you feel," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "You think you've been used to commit atrocities too?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I meant your crisis of faith. The barrier has fallen and my people are dead, but where is the Goddess? She was there to protect us and now she is gone. Why should I care about her now?" She looked up at the crescent in the sky and for the first time felt none of the comfort it usually gave. She wanted to scream and rage at it. She wanted to rip it out of the sky and destroy it. She wanted never to lay eyes upon it again.

She looked back at the fire. Justin moved to sit next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. They sat breathing in the smoke of the fire as it mixed with the sweet smell of the evening dew.

He pulled her into his side and rested his head on hers.

"Do you think you can trust me now?" he asked.

Her brow knit. "What do you mean? I trust you completely."

He chuckled. "Then can you please move that dagger you've been hiding," he said. "The handle is digging into my side."

Luitgard's face went hot. "You knew about it?" she asked.

"Since the night we shared a camp with that family," he said. "When I was lying next to you, I could feel it. I did not know what it was until you reached for it to cut the fabric."

"Why did you not say anything?" she asked.

"It seemed to help you feel safe," he said. "I didn't want to take that from you when you still seemed so nervous around me."

"It was not that," she said. "I have trusted you since before we left. Sieglinde insisted I keep it. She was afraid I was being tricked by you and that I might need it."

"Then why did you jump when I touched you?"

"For years, every waking moment has been spent leading my people. I never thought of myself as a person outside of that. Sieglinde was always near but I was alone except for her." Her voice became rough as her mind flashed to Sieglinde's fate.

"You have me now," he said. "What else am I going to do but stay with you?"

She smiled.

"Now, can you really move that dagger?"

She quickly untied the shawl at her waist and moved the weapon to set it down on her other side.

"Is that better?" she asked.

He held her closer. "Much."

## Chapter 15

Sieglinde watched the flickering distant fires amongst the trees. She had known her reply to the Church's offer would not be well received. She had expected them to lay siege to the city immediately. But the soldiers simply picked up the head of their comrade and retreated into the trees as they tried to dodge the arrows her men sent after them.

A week later, more fires appeared in forest. The enemy did not bother to hide now. The fires of their camps burned brightly and through the night. Adalbern was sure they would wait until morning to attack. Sieglinde could not make such assumptions.

Their village was small, only a hundred of them, half women and children. With the barrier breached, the women felt helpless and useless despite their efforts to grow gardens and prepare poultices. Their most important task had been to maintain the protections of the Goddess but She had left them. Perhaps she had chosen to follow Luitgard instead. Such thoughts fed Sieglinde's bitterness and she had begun to suspect she was not the only one. If anyone spoke of Luitgard now, their tones were harsh even if their words were not unkind.

The men had trained for this very situation, but there were so few of them to protect the wall. She turned and looked over the black expanse of water that surrounded the rest of the peninsula. She did not fear attack from those sides. They could try but she knew they would fail. The line of spikes was too well hidden and too effective against even small craft. It was the wall they needed to worry about. Despite how well it had withstood the years without any need for repair, there was no telling how it would withstand the force of attack.

Five men were perched along the battlements; unused swords at their hips, arrows at their backs, and bows in their hands.

It would not take long for others to join them if the alarm sounded so she insisted as many as possible sleep. Humbert had tried to be noble again but when she threatened not to marry him if he disobeyed her in the matter, he relented. She had no idea if he was really asleep. She simply prayed that he would rest enough to survive the next morning.

Her mouth went dry at the thought. Who was she even praying to? The Goddess had left them. She no longer cared about their prayers or their rituals. The Mintharchs had only themselves.

She stood upon the battlements. She stood and waited for the first arrow not shot by one of her own.

## Chapter 16

Luitgard rubbed her lower back. The long days of riding were taking a severe toll upon her body. Each mile brought more pain. The heat was not helping either.

The further south they travelled, the hotter it was getting despite travelling between hills and mountains. Midsummer had already come and only recently gone and the climate was warmer than she was used to even during the hottest seasons in her home. She was grateful for any water source to replenish her during the days and wash away the evidence of the heat at night.

They had left Vienna almost two weeks before but Justin was sure it would take at least another to reach Florence. They followed the trade routes as they curved south towards Venice but would not be entering the city as it would be a detour on their route.

Ever since their encounter with Merek, Justin had changed. He was both happier and jumpier. As for his happiness, Luitgard could not explain it. As for his jumpiness, he had become increasingly concerned they would find Church trouble on the road. So far, that threat had not materialized.

It was not the road that scared Luitgard. It was sleep. Her dreams had become a nightly witnessing of Dragonfather's torture. Every night, she heard his screams. Every night she heard him begging to her and for help. Focusing upon Rome was the only comfort she had after such dreams. If she could get there, she could save him and make the nightmares stop.

They crested a hill. Luitgard could see the well-worn road twist through a small wood. The trees were gathered around a stream parallel to the road before it emerged into the open again and curved through a low-lying field.

"We could stop in there for a rest in the shade," Justin suggested.

She nodded her wholehearted agreement.

They tied their reins to a tree near the stream. Justin immediately bent down and splashed water on his face and the back of his neck. Cupping his hands together, he lifted some of the water to his lips. Luitgard did the same.

He lay down on the bank with his arms and legs outstretched and closed his eyes. "I will be glad when my days of travel are over," he said.

"That is a funny attitude for a Dominican," she remarked.

"I am not," he countered with a bite. "Not anymore."

She had not intended him offense and was surprised at his hostile response. "I simply was referring to the fact that you were. Was that not the whole reason you found me? You thought travel would bring you to God's truth?"

"I never liked the travel," he said. "I like to know where my bed will be at night and where to find my meals in the day, even if they weren't much."

Luitgard remained squatting on the bank of the stream. She wrapped her arms around her knees as she watched the water swirl within a grouping of rocks.

"When I travelled to Rome as a girl, I was so young and I had Dragonfather with me. I remember his face and the touch of his hand clasping mine as we traversed the city but I remember very little of Rome. I remember the sick and the starving, the cruelty of soldiers and Churchmen upon anyone unfortunate enough to cross their paths in just the wrong way, and a single statue of an angel. She made me wonder if that could be what the Goddess looks like. So even though I have made this journey before, it is all a new experience. I do not remember long nights of being camped in the woods. I cannot imagine choosing such a life."

"Why do you call him 'Dragonfather'?" Justin asked.

When she looked over at him, she saw his eyes were still closed and his body relaxed.

"Because of the dragon crest on his old tunic," she said. "The Mintharchs have always had the crest of the coiled wyvern but I was far too young to think much about it until I was playing in the solar when I should not have been. I was supposed to have been helping my mother pick flowers for the apothecary but when she was not looking, I ran back into the manor to hide. I was so sick of waking up early to do chores. I could not get out of the gates, so I decided to hide until they forgot me. The only place I could think of was Dragonfather's chest. I loved that chest. It has a carving of a wyvern perched atop a tower on it. I would run my fingers over the scales and the wings any time he let me near it. Dragons are such magnificent creatures and from a world that seemed far more interesting than mine. But I was never allowed to see what was inside. That was for 'when I was older'. I figured I would be in enough trouble running from my chores, so I lifted the lid to see what was inside. I thought I might even be able to hide until I had been forgotten. It was full of strange things like linked chain in the shape of a shirt and a tunic with a wyvern on it. There was also the dagger Sieglinde gave me.

"Dragonfather walked in as I was running my hand over the crest." Luitgard laughed. "I jumped nearly a foot. I tried to get to my feet but I was too frightened to do it properly. I could not take my eyes away from his. I thought he was going to scream at me or beat me. But he calmly walked over and picked me up. He sat down on the bed with me on his knee. He told me I had found his secret and asked that I not tell anyone, not even my own parents. I asked why and he said because those were the things that reminded him of the worst he could be. By keeping them he knew he would never make such mistakes again. But he did not want anyone else to know of those mistakes. He said they would never forgive him.

"After that, I called him my Dragonfather. The true reason why was our secret. Everyone just assumed it was a playful name because of the Mintharch wyvern. Then, he said he needed to take a trip. He said there was something he had to do. I begged him to take me with him. I wanted adventure. I wanted to see the wonders of the world. He never fought me. He nodded and said he would show me what the world has to offer.

"That was when he taught me about the horrors of the Christians and the pagans and why the barrier was so important. I never forgot that lesson even if I have since forgotten the journey that taught it."

There was silence but for the water skipping over the polished stones. One of the horses shook the flies from its mane.

"Your grandfather had a wyvern on his crest?" Justin asked. His voice was nearly drowned out by the sounds of the water.

"Yes," she said, "A red wyvern."

"That is the crest of Kilchain."

She looked up. He was pushing himself into a seated position but not looking at her.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

With his eyes focused upon a vortex in the brook, he said, "It is rumoured they were my ancestors."

Luitgard lost her balance, unintentionally rocking backwards onto her back. As she climbed to her feet, she asked, "You are a Kilchain?"

His eyes met hers. "I am not sure," he said. "I come from two generations of bastards but that was always the rumour. I believe Merek thinks so."

"And if my grandfather had that crest, he was a Kilchain?"

"Or someone pledged to that house," Justin clarified.

No. Luitgard knew that was not it. Dragonfather being a Kilchain was the only explanation. If he had been a Kilchain and if Justin were as well, then she knew why the Church had sent him. She was one of his people. He was immune to the barrier.

"The Church knows you are a Kilchain," she said.

She had meant it as a statement but he mistook it for a question. "I'm not sure," he said. "It was just a rumour I would hear when people would speak of my grandparents and how my grandmother had come to be a nun but I do not really know."

She looked into his eyes. She had thought they looked like Dragonfather's from the beginning but had assumed it just a coincidence. Now she knew that they were far less random than that. They were the eyes of the Kilchain.

"You are a Kilchain," she said. "And so am I."

## Chapter 17

To the Mintharchs' surprise, not a single soldier approached the walls or a single foreign arrow sailed overhead the next morning. The following evening was equally quiet as was the day after and the day after that. But each night, through the trees, they could see the firelight. Each flickering patch would appear one by one as the sun set.

For weeks, every morning and every evening, Sieglinde and Adalbern would meet to discuss the matter. With no new developments, the meetings were rarely distinguishable from one another. They agreed that it was likely the fires were simply taunts. Several may even have been lit by the same soldier, meaning it might only have been a small band, not capable of performing a proper assault. Lighting fires would make their numbers appear larger as they waited and hoped the Mintharchs would simply starve to death or burst from the walls in their desperation for food. But each night as they appeared, their threat was clear and it ensured that the the drawbridge and portcullis remained closed.

Sieglinde looked out over the still water. There was no wind. The sky was clear and the sun was not yet high enough to have made the world hot. The pond was glass but she knew where the spikes rested beneath the surface. They were both a blessing and a curse. They would either save them from assault or ensure they were unable to flee if the wall fell.

"If we continue to do nothing, we will starve to death just as they had hoped" Adalbern said quietly. These conversations were always conducted in hushed tones between them.

"If we open the drawbridge and try to leave," she countered, "They will take that moment to attack. Until we know for sure what those fires mean, we cannot risk giving them an opening."

"But there are more sheep in the fields," he argued. "And it has been a week. We never did pick the fields clean. More crops might be prime for harvest. If we can get to them, we can get enough food to keep us for months more."

"And if they kill us because we are careless, food will not matter."

As with all of their meetings, they did not agree so much as simply stop talking. The next meeting would be the same.

She took a deep breath as she waited for Adalbern to leave. When he did not, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Is there something new you have learned?" she asked.

He shook his head, but his lips were pursed into a skewed bunch.

"What is it?" she pressed.

"I suspect when I break the news to him, Humbert will come to you and demand you overrule me."

She raised a brow. "There is a matter of dispute?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied, "But within a few minutes of my leaving you, there will be."

She noticed his fingers clenching and loosening around the hilt of the sword tied to his belt.

"I am relieving Humbert of his duties for a week," he said.

Since the night before the expected siege, she had little chance to see him. His insistence upon taking part in as many shifts upon the wall as possible ensured even their nights were spent apart. She had been so busy with her own work; overseeing that everything and everyone remained at the ready, helping the healers make poultices that needed time to cure, and still training the Goddess Maids. She had neglected keeping a watchful eye upon him. With Adalbern's announcement, her worry flooded her insides with freezing sludge.

"Humbert's a good boy as you know," he said. "He has been working very hard, harder than most, though he would deny it. I have noticed his weariness increasing. I do not think he sleeps even when I send him to bed. His body is close to breaking but I know he would never admit it. I am going to force him to take a rest. If the horn blows again, he, like the rest of us, will do our part, but there is no telling how long this standoff will last. If they are trying to weaken us before they strike, they are doing an exceptional job. I want Humbert to rest first because he needs it most, but after that, I wish to do the same with everyone, to keep their spirits up."

Sieglinde nodded. "You are likely right," she said. Though logically, she agreed with him, her cheeks flooded with the heat of her guilt. It had not escaped her that she might see Humbert again in private if he were to rest more.

"Whether or not you agreed," Adalbern added, "I would have forced Humbert to rest. He is too far gone. But I wanted to inform you of my intentions so that you would understand what is happening when he comes raging to you."

She nodded again. "I will ensure he understands the situation," she said.

Adalbern thanked her and left.

The high-low call of a bird echoed sharply. It repeated once more, the tone as crisp and clear as the surface of the lake.

Adalbern knew Humbert well.

Later that morning, she sat with the Goddess Maids in the hall out of the sun while they spun thread on spindles. He stomped up to her and demanded she hear him out. They argued, him yelling through most of it, but he had no power in the situation. Adalbern had instructed his men to remove any tool they saw in Humbert's hands and he was forbidden entry to the gatehouse. No one would let Humbert work his way through his needed rest.

Though Sieglinde's first reaction was to be mortified that he would wish to argue in front of the Goddess Maids, she also became relieved. There were several times when she was sure he had wanted to use their feelings for each other against her but with the girls gathered, he did not dare speak of it.

Finally, after he had worked himself into a sweat, he stomped back the way he had come. Sieglinde's only comfort was knowing that Adalbern was right. Humbert's life was on the line whether he wanted to admit it or not.

That night, she lay in bed, hoping that he would have worked out his frustration enough to come see her. When she awoke the next morning, realizing she had fallen asleep as she waited, the familiar wave of stinging cold flooded her muscles. She hoped to go see him but her morning meeting with Adalbern did not go as routinely as she was expecting.

He approached her on the manor house steps, with several of his men at his back, all with empty sacks slung over their shoulders and blades in their hands. He gestured with curt nods for them to stay where they were a he led her back into the hall and closed the door.

"I am taking some men to harvest more food," he said.

"Have you lost your senses?" she asked. "There were fires last night just as the night before and the night before that, were there not?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I am feeling more and more that those fires are a trick. There cannot be that many men out there with us not hearing their movements or their laughing. After this long, even the most disciplined of men would have had a night of excessive drinking. Why waste an army on us when they can wait for our stores to deplete right before the winter comes."

"Even if they are doing that, what do you think they will do if we are no longer playing along?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Do you not think it wise to wait until nightfall at the very least, so that they do not see what we are up to?"

"Whoever is manning the fires at night needs to sleep sometime," he said.

"You are talking as if there is only one person out there. Even if there is not an entire army, we already know there are more than that. We shot their own messenger's head at them!"

He stood firm. "But even without the wall, we can handle several dozen face to face if we need to. If we are starving, we could not face a mouse."

"I forbid it," she said. "At least until we know more."

"We may never learn more!" Adalbern yelled. "For Goddess' sake, Sieglinde, stop being afraid to act!"

His personal attack caught her off guard. Through sheer force of will, she stopped herself from physically stumbling backward. Her mental recovery was far more sluggish.

"I am simply trying to keep us safe," she finally eked out, feeling the response was entirely inadequate for his outburst and wondering even then why she did not rage back at him.

"No matter what we do," Adalbern said, "We are at risk. We are not safe even if that wall is solid. I am trying to make sure the threats to us in here," he pointed his thick finger at the ground between his feet, "Do not kill us before we have faced the threats out there." He pointed at the door. "You are doing their work for them, Sieglinde. If we provoke them, at least we will have a fight. At least we will be able to take pride in our actions when we tell our stories to the Goddess herself. I am not hiding anymore."

He did not give her a chance to respond. He left and instructed his men to follow as they walked to the gate.

As she stood in the doorway, watching, she saw that he must have planned to ambush her all along. Several of the farmers were already at the gates awaiting Adalbern and his men to join them.

She would have felt anger and rage, had she not felt the blow he dealt so strongly. Luitgard would have acted. She would have taunted the enemy until they were forced to reveal themselves. Sieglinde could teach. She could not lead, not the way they needed.

Though she wanted to return to her room and hide under her covers, she forced the tears back, refusing to let them spill, and walked to several of the Crones who were weeding their makeshift gardens. They greeted her warmly. She had little energy to reply but managed to force out a pale greeting before joining them in their task.

## Chapter 18

Justin tied the horses while Luitgard gathered nearby branches and twigs for their fire. Yet another night of camping in the open awaited them. They had hoped to reach another town, if not at least a house at which they could pay for lodgings. The clouds did not give them confidence of an easy night ahead. They did their best to choose a spot sheltered by a grouping of trees but as the elevation grew, the options diminished. They were not as sheltered either from the elements or the site of any potential attackers as they would have liked.

Justin was particularly agitated. Their luck had held with the exception of their encounter with Merek but he was sure that it would not last. Both of them were sleep deprived from remaining on such continuous alert. The physical trials and the risks told her to go back. Her worry for Dragonfather kept her from doing so.

Even her dreams refused to settle the matter for her. Her strange nightmares continued and pulled her in as many directions as her waking life. Whatever she decided, Justin was determined to stay with her. He had nothing left from his old life but questions. He hoped to stay with the Mintharchs when their journey was over. He was still refusing to accept they were dead.

Luitgard knew they were the last of her kind. Justin was one of her people too. They still did not know exactly how their families were connected, just that they had both likely come from the Kilchain line. Luitgard hoped those answers would be found with Dragonfather in Rome. Justin was not convinced but he did not moan about it. Even now that they were friends, he tended to revert to silence in times of disagreement.

With Sieglinde, such behaviour would have driven Luitgard into a rage, ranting and raving. With Justin, she did not have the heart to yell at him. She would simply stop and become quiet herself. When they would next speak, it would be as if no disagreement had ever happened.

Just such a silence had occurred near the end of that day's ride. Luitgard was not even sure what they had disagreed about but as she had spoken of her work teaching Goddess Maids, he had fallen silent. When she had realized this, she too ceased talking. They rode the last hour without conversation but when he had suggested they stop, there was no animosity in his tone.

They worked together to arrange the firewood properly so that Justin could light it. Within moments the fire was gingerly eating away at the wood.

"Do you still believe in the existence of your goddess now?" Justin asked as he sat back from the now strong flames.

This was not a question Luitgard had expected. Justin had not spoken of religion since he had burned his robes.

"Yes," she said. "I am not sure how else my people remained safe and unnoticed for so long." She paused and bit her lip. Her fingers twisted around each other in her lap. Even to herself, her words sounded like the most pathetic lie she had ever heard. Sieglinde's rebellious Goddess Maids could lie better. "I do not know," she whispered. "If she does, she has not bothered to help those who worship her."

Justin nodded. "As with my god," he said. "We seem to be the forsaken children. I am beginning to think the only people we can count on is each other. If God will not smite those like Merek, then how can I have any faith in him?"

"Now, now." The familiar voice caused them both to jump. Merek walked out from around the horses.

"I am quite sure God does not think as lowly of me as you do, Justin," he said.

Justin jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Merek shrugged as he walked over to the fire and sat down beside it. "Just on my way to Rome," he said.

"And you happened to find us?" Justin asked through tight lips.

"Indeed," Merek said, warming his hands over the flames. He looked at Luitgard. "Your beau is far from pleasant." He did not wait for a response. "He was always such a frightened child too. He's lucky I was around to protect him but you would never know that with the way he talks."

"You never protected anyone in your life," Justin spat. "I know the things you did and you have no right to call yourself a holy man."

Merek burst into a full-bellied laugh. "If that precluded me from being a holy man," he said, "Then most of those in the Church would have to renounce their office."

"And therein lies the problem," Justin muttered.

Merek shrugged. "Still ungrateful to those who raised and cared for you," he said. "A bastard like you would have starved to death as a babe without the Church's help. Is it not also unholy to be so angry and horrid? Perhaps this little pagan has twisted your mind."

"Why are you here?" Justin asked. He was still refusing to sit down. The breeze batted at the edges of his shirt that poked out from under his surcoat.

"I already told you," he said," I am on my way to Rome. We can even travel together! I am sure you will find the hospitality much better with me along."

"What kind of hospitality do you mean?" Justin asked. "Does it include shackling me in my sleep and carrying me triumphantly to the Pope?"

"Haven't you heard?" Merek asked. "The Pope has fled to Naples. No point in taking you to Rome even if I cared what he thought. The only sense that ever came out of that man's brain was _Ad extirpanda_. Those damn Cathars have never stopped being a problem." He eyed Luitgard. "Does my mention of Cathars bother you, little pagan? Perhaps you would prefer if I spoke of dragons instead. You seem to have an affinity for them."

She refused to look away but said nothing.

"I know what he used to call you and what you used to call him," he continued. "You know the truth about him. I know you do. Did he give you one of his scales?"

Her confusion broke her silence. "What are you talking about?"

"What I am owed," he said.

Justin walked around the far side of the fire from Merek to stand closer to Luitgard.

"Relax, Justin," Merek said. "I have no interest in taking your play thing from you. In fact, I think I might have something that will help you two out."

He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a large piece of fabric and handed it to Luitgard. As he held it out, she saw the wyvern upon it. Her shock overrode her sense and she grasped it to stare down at the familiar dragon. The fabric was stained with dried blood.

"Would either of you like to know where I found that?" he asked.

Neither of them said anything.

"It belonged to the son of my mentor a long time ago," he said. "I fought alongside my mentor in our work for the Church. He was very good at carrying out that work too. The bodies we left behind for God to sort out were too numerous to count. He did not discriminate either. Children and women felt his blade; after he had had his fun of course. He taught me everything I knew. I thought him as much my father as did the man who once wore that crest. I loved him."

As he spoke, Luitgard's fingers tightened around the fabric until her muscles would not allow her to clench anymore. "You are lying," she whispered even as Dragonfather's own words about his past came back to her.

Merek did not stop watching her. "You so sure of that?" he said. "I am quite sure your great grandfather was there. We were told to let God sort out his own. That is what we did without hesitation ... well, I did not hesitate. It was the first time he questioned it. He turned his back on me, the one man who had worked so hard, even harder than his son by blood, to make him proud. In that battle, he had the nerve to look at me as if I were a monster, as if he hadn't ensured I was so. We were separated in the battle after that. I came upon his son and in my grief took his own blood from him. I hated him in that moment. But then, when the last of the Cathars had been killed, he was gone. No one had seen him or known where he had gone. I was sure he had been killed. Despite what he had done to me, I respected him enough to know he would never be a coward. I loved him enough to forgive his momentary betrayal. He had been punished for it with his death and so I thought fondly of him always afterward." As he continued, his eyes never wavered. "I truly mourned his loss. Then, oh, about twelve years ago, when I was in Rome, I ran into him. He was so reluctant to talk to me. He had his granddaughter to watch over, you see. The old times were done and his betrayal of me was complete. He doted upon that girl ... "

He was breathing heavily, as if the memories were too much, but his eyes never wavered. In fact, his face had hardened as he spoke his next words. He looked as if he wanted to rip out Luitgard's throat. As he continued, she could not help but lower her eyes to the crest in her hands.

"When I discovered he had just fled like a coward, I continued to keep that crest. It reminds me of how easy it would be to fall victim to weakness. He lied to me and left a line of bastards in his wake. When I learned his son had impregnated his betrothed before his death, I vowed to watch over him for my own purposes. Kilchain had no idea he already had a grandson, let alone a great grandson to follow him. But one day, I knew that knowledge would bring me what I needed." His eyes flicked to Justin. "Is that the story your father told you in his stupors or did you think you were holy and noble?" He did not wait for an answer. "The great Kilchain. The noble Kilchain. I am sure, little pagan, that you must have thought you had a proud history. Sorry to bring you back to reality. Kilchain was nothing but a murdering coward."

Luitgard remembered Dragonfather's blue eyes. She forced herself not to look away from the wyvern crest before her. She did not want to look into Merek's eyes and see the triumph she knew would be there. Justin had been right about Merek's enjoyment of cruelty. She refused to give him what he wanted. Dragonfather had admitted he had done horrible things but he had also worked to set things right. Though Merek's words were painful to hear, they were no surprise. Both she and Justin knew or at least suspected the atrocities in their pasts.

She swallowed hard. She tried her best to appear uncaring as she held out the crest for Merek to take from her. "Keep it for the next time you wish to weave stories," she said. "Maybe your next audience will believe you."

Merek's jaw tensed as he snatched back the crest. Though she was sure he knew how much he had gotten to her, her refusal to show it irked him. This small triumph of her own was no comfort. In fact, she immediately began to fear what Merek might do. He obviously held a grudge.

As darkness fell, Justin sat next to Luitgard and placed his arm around her. Merek remained where he was next to the fire but no longer spoke. Luitgard planned to stay awake the entire night. She did not trust the man across from them. But Justin's embrace was so warm. His shoulder so much softer than the rocks that had been her pillows of late. As the silence stretched, the flames became too hypnotic.

The water of the lake lapped at the back of her ankles. It was black and impenetrable. She looked up. The forest was a smattering of greys running into each other. The birds still did not sing. The only sound was that of a repetitive dripping.

The dying hut was the only shadow amongst the trees, nearly as black as the water at her feet. The trees around it were completely still. The dripping pounded with each beat of her heart.

"Where are you Luitgard?"

Dragonfather's call was a whisper. She wanted to go to him in the dying hut but the wrongness made her pause. She looked down at her feet. Swirling in the black water were clouds of red. Her bones, her muscles, her organs - everything in the centre of her chest - tightened.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She turned.

"Where are you Luitgard?" Dragonfather whispered again.

She ignored the call and even manage to push aside that relentless dripping as her eyes took in the dark grey plumes rising into the sky from the blackened manor. Beams fell, splashing into the water. As she saw what also floated in the water amongst the rubble, she choked.

"Where are you Luitgard?" Dragonfather called again. His voice clear as if he were whispering in her ear.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

When she did not respond, when she remained unable to look away, he called again.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. The dripping stopped. Dragonfather's pleas stopped.

She looked up but it was not Dragonfather standing beside her. It was the most beautiful dark-haired woman she had ever seen. She was two heads taller than Luitgard. Her robes matched those of statues she had seen in Rome. She was looking straight ahead at the burning manor. Despite the flames, Luitgard smelled sweet flowers. It was the same woman who had visited her before. She knew it was the Goddess.

"There was no hope for them," she said. "You and Justin are the last of the Mintharchs. Even if you had been there, there would have been nothing you could have done. Your home is gone."

"Why did you not protect them?" Luitgard begged. "Why did the barrier fall?"

The Goddess was unmoved. "Truth will be found in Rome," she said.

She squeezed Luitgard's shoulder, her grip strong enough that the touch flirted with pain. Then she was gone.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

"Luitgard?" Dragonfather called again. "Please."

When she awoke, the grey of early dawn shrouded their camp. Justin was still holding her close but it appeared Merek was gone. As she moved her head to get a better look, Justin said, "He left not long ago. No doubt he left to work the next step of his plan."

"What should we do?" she asked.

"Turn back," he said.

"No! What about Dragonfather?" she begged, clutching at his tunic. The vision of Dragonfather's eyes was still clear in her mind. "We cannot leave him to be tortured and die by the hands of that awful man."

"If Merek had him, do you think he would be wasting his time with us?" Justin asked.

Her hands fell. "What are you saying?"

Justin reached up and ran his fingers through her disheveled hair. "I am saying it is far more likely that we are the bait for Kilchain, not the other way around."

"And if you are wrong? If Dragonfather is a captive in Rome?"

Merek would kill him. Dragonfather had been trying to tell her exactly that this whole time. He had managed to contact her somehow. He had never done so before. He was already in great danger and she knew it and she knew that he was in Rome. The Goddess, not some dream, had told her that was the right way to travel. She needed to get to Rome. The others were gone. It was the only way she could save the last of their people.

Justin's voice remained calm. "Merek is trying to lead us to Rome to join Kilchain, likely to wipe out the last of the line to complete his revenge. We cannot give him what he wants," he said.

"And what do we get by going back?" she asked. "They are all dead. There is nothing left for us there no matter how much we wish there was."

"We do not know that."

"I know that!" she insisted. "I am their leader. I can feel it in my heart when they are hurt. They are dead! And even if you are right, to go back would be leading Merek straight to them."

"Did I not already give him exactly that opportunity when I found you?" Justin asked.

He continued to stroke her hair but she was numb to the attention. She could not understand how he was remaining so calm. It was all clear to her. There was no need to deliberate when the destinations were clear, yet he acted as if there was still hope.

She wanted to strangle Merek and watch the life fade from his eyes. He had given them five minutes of conversation and left a life or death chaos in his wake, probably exactly as he had wanted. They had already decided they would continue on to Rome until he arrived. There was no question about it until he tortured them with his stories. She would not be fooled.

"No," she said. "I will not give up on the chance to save Dragonfather. I made my choice in Vienna. And now that we know he was your great grandfather, I cannot believe you do not want to save him too."

Justin's hand froze and his eyes turned to hers. " You are more real and more important to me than Kilchain. I don't want to see Merek hurt you," he said. "And that is exactly what will happen if we go. That is what he wants."

"No, it is not," she said. "Merek is trying to stop us from going to Rome; trying to turn me against Dragonfather, telling us the Pope is not in Rome as if we even cared, telling us he is headed that way. If we turn back, his manipulations will have been successful. I cannot let that happen. We have to press on. We have to make it. We have to find Dragonfather. Merek is a devil."

Justin pulled her back into the crook of his arm. "If you are so sure," he said low, "Then we will go, but don't believe what he said about not taking you away from me. That is the kind of thing he lives for and something he enjoys doing in the most demented way possible ... I love you, Luitgard."

## Chapter 19

As much as the shock of Adalbern's rebuke had stunned her, further salt was pressed into her wounds. For several days following, Adalbern's predictions appeared to prove correct. The farmers harvested and returned with great sacks of flax and rye every day. The sheep in the fields were all sheared of their fur and their village was filled with more abundance than they had seen in years.

Still the fires burned each night. Still there was no attack. Still Humbert refused to come to her.

As she stood before the women, finishing the prayer for their evening meal, Adalbern entered the hall. He did not look at the women but walked quickly around them to reach Sieglinde. Though the prayer had been completed and the women were permitted to begin their meals, they did not.

"You must come with me quickly," he whispered in her ear.

"Are they attacking?" she whispered back.

He shook his head. "It is Humbert," he said. "He is ... not well. He made me promise not to tell anyone else."

She nodded and moved to follow him but he did not move. "You will need to fetch some of the healing supplies," he added. "Anything that can cure infection."

Her eyes widened. She nodded slowly and told him to go on ahead. When he left, she instructed the women to take care of tidying after their meals because she would not be returning to eat. Gerhild, the Crone of Healers, stood and asked if they were in any danger.

"Not at all," Sieglinde replied. "One of the men is sick."

"I will get my medicines," Gerhild said.

Sieglinde did not want to betray Humbert's request but in such a small community, it was impossible to keep secrets. Likely by morning, everyone would know, but it would not be her who told them.

"I have been requested specifically," Sieglinde said. "Please, stay here and enjoy your food. If I require your help, I will not hesitate to send for you."

Confused, the crone relented and slowly lowered back into her seat.

A few minutes later, Sieglinde was knocking on the door of Humbert's small shack with an armful of cloth and cured poultices. She was not sure how bad a shape he was in or what exactly was wrong. It was a wound of some kind most likely, but she wanted to be prepared for anything so she had grabbed as many different jars and cloths as she could find in the apothecary.

Adalbern opened the door a crack. When he saw it was her, he pulled it wide to let her pass. Over her burden, she could see Humbert's face. His eyes were closed but his rapid breath indicated he was not asleep. His skin glistened as it reflected the light of the small fire in the middle of the tiny room.

She turned to look around the cloth she held and nearly dropped the small jars of medicine.

His hand was resting limply over his stomach. His shirt was ripped and covered in caked blood and pus. It looked as though he had not bled much and there was no blood currently flowing from the wound, but it was moist and rotten.

She fumbled to set down the jars. It was only luck that when one fell, it did not break. It rolled until it hit the side of Adalbern's foot. The contents were prevented from spilling by the animal skin lid that had been tied onto it.

"What happened?" she asked as she knelt down next to Humbert, who was lying upon a bed of dried grass.

His eyes fluttered. When he saw her, a faint smile curved the corners of his mouth. "Sie-glin," he whispered.

"I came to check on him," Adalbern said. "I wanted him to start working again tomorrow and intended to make sure he had had enough rest. Obviously not. The fool has been like this for days, refusing to get help when it could have done him some good because he was too damn embarrassed."

"Too ... stupid ... " Humbert corrected weakly.

"How did this happen?" Sieglinde asked as she turned to her jars. Finding the intended target, she grabbed it quickly along with a small wooden scraper from the top of the pile of cloth. A painful tingle shot into her sinuses as she removed the animal skin cover. Quickly, she dipped the scrapper into the jar and lifted out a gob of green paste.

"I'm not sure exactly what he did," Adalbern said, "But from what I can tell, he cut himself with his sword days ago and refused to admit it. Then like a fool, he did not tend to it properly or fetch the healers so it began to fester. Now he has a fever and if he is unlucky, will not make it through the night."

"He will," Sieglinde said as she carefully spread the paste across the festering wound. It was at least as long as her hand. With the discolouration and swelling, it was difficult to tell the exact extent of it. She covered the entire area, ignoring Humbert's twitching with each touch.

Adalbern said nothing but she refused to entertain the possibility that he could be right. She focused upon her work, upon keeping her hand steady, upon spreading the poultice evenly, upon minimizing the pain Humbert was enduring.

Adalbern remained standing by the door, watching her.

"You can go," she said finally, as she set down the poultice and took a length of cloth to wrap around Humbert's middle. "I can manage."

Even as she said this, she was struggling to get the cloth underneath Humbert to wrap it around him properly.

"Are you certain?" Adalbern asked, seeing her struggle.

"Yes," she said, her impatience growing. "Tell the others ... " She stopped her task for a moment and sat back on her heels to catch her breath. "Tell them he is simply unwell and to stay away until I say otherwise. He needs time to heal, not the disturbance of curious onlookers."

"And if he dies?" Adalbern asked.

"He won't," she said.

He did not argue.

Sieglinde had never been so relieved to see him gone, not even after he had yelled at her.

She heaved and huffed as she tried to get the dressing around Humbert. When the wound was properly covered, she sat back on her heels and watched him.

She wanted to hit him for whatever he had done to himself; she wanted to hit him for his refusal to seek help; she wanted to hit him for all his stubbornness; but she simply watched. If he was going to live, it would only be through enough rest and care. If he did die that night, it would not be without a fight.

All at once, she agreed with Adalbern.

## Chapter 20

Luitgard slumped in her saddle after yet another long day of riding. They had bypassed the lagoon of Venice and were heading straight to Florence. The closer they got to Rome, the more numerous the towns. It seemed their nights of sleeping amongst the trees and around a fire were over. She was looking forward to a warm room even if the only bed was a pile of straw.

Justin's horse had been slightly ahead of her but he slowed so that she could catch up. "I can see a town ahead," he said. "We can stop there."

She nodded, too tired to speak. Her sweat had soaked through the bodice of her dress. No matter how much she moved, the slimy cling against her skin would not release. Though she had not fallen from her horse or had walked more than a few steps, her bottom and the soles of her feet prickled and burned as if they were scraped and raw. Her body had finally had enough of this confounded travel.

Her horse trudged through the gates. She was barely aware of Justin stopping in front of an inn. On the steps up to her room, she struggled. Right foot, pull, left foot, pull, right foot, pull. After Justin reached out and took her hand, she was able to make it to the top.

She let herself fall backward onto the bed and closed her eyes.

"I think we should stay here a few days," Justin said.

She could hear him rustling with the contents of the saddles bags but had no idea why. She was not sure she even cared.

"We cannot afford to lose the time," she muttered, which took much more energy than it should have.

"You need rest," he said. "You are having trouble adjusting to the heat."

"I can manage just fine," she muttered as she rolled over, her back to him. It was not the heat she was having trouble handling nearly as much as the nightmares every time she closed her eyes. She could take no more of Dragonfather's screams.

When he gave an indignant snort, she said, "I just need a full night's sleep. No more shifts to keep watch. No more worrying about Merek around the next tree."

"Do not be comforted by walls," he said. "Merek could show up anywhere."

"All the more reason not to stop."

He did not speak right away. He was still rummaging through the saddle bags. "Luitgard," he said quietly. "You know how I feel. I made it clear to you days ago. Whether you feel the same way or not does not change my heart. You could hate me and I will still want to make sure you are safe. The heat will be no easier tomorrow. Without rest, you will likely find it quite a bit harder. We need to wait."

An involuntary sigh pushed through her lips. "I know," she said. "I'm so tired. I feel like the sun is still on my skin even inside. I know you are right. But I cannot stay here for two−and especially not three−days. If we get to Rome and find out we missed saving Dragonfather's life by that much, I will never forgive myself."

"And if he has been dead years, would you blame yourself even then?"

"He is alive," she said. "I have no doubt of that. But I do not know how long he will be."

"Do you think he would ever forgive himself if he knew you died trying to save him? Is it fair to ask that of him?"

The Goddess' words were still in her mind. They had been ever since her dream, even when she was exhausted and slumped in her saddle. Rome was where she had to go.

"I have to," she said.

The room fell silent. Whatever he had been looking for in the saddle bags, he must have found, or he had given up. "Then sleep," he said finally. "You will need as much as you can get to survive tomorrow."

She did not need the encouragement. Her exhaustion had now taken her even beyond the worry of nightmares. The moment their conversation was replaced by silence, she felt her muscles sink into sleep.

The same dream came to her again; the manor in ruins and Dragonfather's pleas. When she could take no more, she awoke.

The room was dark. There was no light peeping through the cracks in the shutters. Though it would not have been a moonless night, so little of it remained it shed no noticeable light. It must have been late enough that the lights of the other buildings had been extinguished as well.

All she could tell was that the bed was in the corner of the room, a fact she had been too exhausted to notice before. She rolled over and peered over the edge of the bed. She did not want to wake Justin, but it was so dark she could not even make out the lump of his form on the floor.

"Justin?" she whispered.

When there was no response, she called again and again there was no reply. She called again, no longer whispering, as she reached out into the darkness with her hand.

If he was there, he was not near the bed.

Her heart increased its pace. She climbed to her feet and walked in steps only as long as a toe's length as she braced for bumping into his sleeping form. When she reached the opposite wall of the small room without meeting any such resistance, her heart broke into a full charge.

"Justin?" she called, "Where are you? Justin?"

Where was he? Why would he not be in the room?

The faint recollection of rustling saddlebags came back to her. She fell to her knees and groped in the darkness for the bags. She had no idea where the candles were and so no way of lighting her search. The bags were against the wall beneath the window. Though there was relief that they were still there, her heart did not slow. Her thoughts fed its speed too eagerly.

Had he left her behind, hoping she would take the rest he wanted her to have so much? Had he given up on her because she had not listened? She moved her hands through the collection of items in each pouch. She hoped through her sifting that she would recognize some shape as missing.

In the last pouch, she realized something was wrong the moment she pulled it closer. It was too light. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable. Why there was the change in weight was not immediately apparent as her fingers examined the contents. Then, the absence came to her. In a last futile attempt at hope, her fingers flew to her waist.

She knew it would not be there. She had stopped wearing it during the days. It had become too hot and uncomfortable. It had poked at her ribs with each step of the horse, so she had put it in her saddlebag.

Why would Justin take her dagger? Where would he even go with it?

Merek.

Did Justin honestly think he could confront Merek alone? Why would he ever try such a thing? Was he already dead?

She stumbled as she tried to climb to her feet. Would she have to continue alone? She lurched for the door handle. Would Merek come for her too? She pulled open the door. He was gurgling his own blood in the street, she knew it. Merek would never take such an open threat without retaliation.

"Justin," she whispered. "Please, do not be dead."

She wiped tears from her eyes but it did little to help. The hallway was as dark as the room.

Her heart and her stomach rose up as her body fell. Her feet knocked into each other as she tried to regain her footing upon the unexpected steps. One hand flailed as the other knocked into a wooden beam, sending sparks of pain up her arm. Just when she began to wonder when she would ever hit the bottom of the stairs, arms wrapped around her and she landed against someone's chest.

"Luitgard?" Justin asked.

"Justin?" she sobbed back as she regained her footing and clutched him closer to her in the process. "You are alright?"

"Of course I am," he said. "What are you doing walking around in the dark like that? Are you alright?"

The piercing of slivers and the shot of pain in her hand from the blow against the beam drew her attention as she did her mental check over her well-being.

"I hurt my hand," she said.

"There are candles in the room; I can take a look there."

"Where have you been?" she asked as he helped her up the stairs with a push at her elbow.

"Let me look at that hand first," he said.

When they got back into the room, he led her to the bed and helped her sit down. A moment later he was near the window and lighting a candle in a lantern that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

The stabbing light forced her to squint. By the time they had adjusted enough for her to open them again, Justin was back by her side, kneeling down and looking at her hand.

As he took her hand in his, his touch caused goose bumps to trail up her arm.

There were two sharp pricks as he pulled at the slivers. "There we go," he said. "Not even any blood."

He let go and sat back on his heels. She rubbed her still-aching hand.

"Where did you go?" she asked again.

"Just for a walk," he said. "I was wide awake."

"Why did you take the dagger?"

"Walking the streets in a strange town is not exactly the safest thing to do," he said. "The violent are not restricted to forests."

"So you did not go looking for Merek then?" she asked.

"Why would I do that? He would kill me."

"I - I just could not think of any other reason you would disappear like that. I was so worried. I am so glad you are alright. Promise me you will never risk going out alone again. Even you said he could be anywhere."

He caressed her cheek. "I promise," he said. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

Her heart began to pick up speed again. She liked him touching her.

She thought of his confession of love. She had said nothing. She had been too shocked that anyone would ever say such a thing to her. In the days since, she knew he had meant it but it was still such a foreign feeling that the thought of saying such a thing back to him made her heart constrict.

It was not that she did not feel the same way. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she did, especially in those gentle touches he offered her. But the stress of their situation, the threat of Merek's appearing at any moment, had pulled forth her ingrained leadership traits. Indulging in such personal feelings, no matter how much she wanted to sink into Justin's arms and give him everything he wanted from her, was too frightening under the circumstances. She could not be distracted. She could not let herself succumb to her feelings and risk making a mistake. She could not afford to be an imperfect human. She had to be the Goddess, the lone protector of those she loved.

When he pulled his hand slowly away, she wanted to whimper in protest. She wanted him to hold her. Despite the pain on his face at her lack of response, she did not react.

"Good-night, Justin," she said. "Get some sleep. I am sure I will be well enough to continue riding by morning."

"Good-night, Luitgard," he said, before turning away and making himself a bed on the floor.

## Chapter 21

Even Sieglinde had realized Adalbern was likely right. Humbert's injuries had been too infected. If he had come to her with such a cut when it had first happened, she had no doubt he would have recovered. Despite her insistence to Adalbern that Humbert would survive, as she checked his wound and watched him through his fever, even she knew the life she had hoped for the two of them was likely impossible. Watching him die slowly before her seemed the only possibility left and it did not even take the efforts of an invading army.

She ignored the shafts of sunlight poking around the door. Humbert's fever had not broken but he had made it through the night. She checked his wound, having to try several times to pick up the edge of the wrappings with her fingers. In the darkness, there was little evidence of change.

The door creaked open and she was blinded as she looked up.

"I brought you some bread," Adalbern said.

She had trouble making out the bread in his silhouette. When she realized the round thing at the end of his arm was not his hand, she took it.

"Thank you," she said. "Now please close the door. I do not want the others to see him."

"Not until you have left yourself," Adalbern said. "The others can live without me for the morning. Go find your bed. I will watch him."

Sieglinde did not get up. She set the roll of bread down next to her and looked back at Humbert. "He is just sleeping," she said. "I can keep watching him."

"And I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you up to your room and tie you there," Adalbern replied with such force that she knew he meant it.

"I need to do this," she said quietly. "I need to stay with him. He needs me to stay with him."

"And your people who are still under the constant threat of war waged by unknown foes need you," he said. "I have indulged both of you in this matter enough. If you want me to keep his confidence, then you will do as I say and get to your bed. I will send for you if anything changes."

Sieglinde's mind was foggy and she felt it terrifically unfair for him to use that so effectively to his advantage. Neither her mind nor her heart could decide. As she felt her muscles weaken, she was forced to concede. She pushed herself to her feet. Adalbern grabbed her arm to steady her but she said nothing.

Her guilt wanted to keep her awake and torture her for leaving Humbert. Her body could not be bothered by the effort. She fell asleep the moment she lay down upon her bed.

A second later, her door creaked. She jolted upright. The room around her looked like gray and brown blobs oscillating together. The door opened wide and her vision cleared. Her mother Lilli walked into the room.

"I have been sent to fetch you," she said. "There is something happening. They need you on the wall."

Sieglinde jumped from her bed and ran by her mother and out of the room. It was still daylight out but it was not morning as it had been when she had come to her room. The sunlight spoke more of midday.

As she hurried down the manor steps, she saw Adalbern running towards the gate.

"Adalbern!" she bellowed.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she ran up to him. "Someone needs to stay with Humbert."

"Yes," he said. "Someone does but it cannot be you or I."

She was panting but her chest constricted painfully, angry that it could not pull in more air. "You promised," she wheezed.

"Confidence is a luxury if those walls are being attacked," he argued. "Besides, I asked my wife to care for him. Now get your head where it needs to be!" He resumed his run towards the gate. Sieglinde, her cheeks hot from more than her exertion, followed.

As they reached the battlements and Dominik, the eldest of the sentries, approached them, a large crack echoed over the forest before being followed by a creak. They all looked in the direction of the sound. One of the tallest trees in the canopy began to fall. The branches snapped as it hit other trees on its way down and a loud boom announced its arrival upon the ground.

"That is the third one they have cut down," Dominik told them.

"Are they getting firewood?" Sieglinde asked, knowing she would not have been sought for such mundane activity.

"Why have they not done this before then?" Dominik asked.

Adalbern scratched his chin. "They have been burning enough fires to need the wood," he said, "But you are right, Dominik. We have heard nothing from them before now."

"What does it mean?" Sieglinde asked, not sure if either of them could answer.

"I'm concerned this means they will attack soon," Adalbern said. "I think I was right before. There was no army out there. They were trying to trick us into hiding."

Sieglinde crossed her arms. "Then who is felling those trees?" she asked.

"An army," he replied.

She raised a brow. "You just said ... "

"I said there wasn't an army. Now, I think there is."

She looked over the forest once more. "How much time do you think we have now?"

"We have no way of knowing," he said before turning to Dominik. "Gather more of the sentries and send them to check the perimeter of the village. We need to make sure there are no weaknesses that have gone unnoticed."

Sieglinde's heart nearly seized. "There are farmers in the fields today," she said.

Adalbern nodded and his lips pursed. "Six of them, I believe," he said. "But I cannot send anyone to help them now. I have no one to spare if we are to keep the village protected."

She swallowed hard. As much as she did not like it. She had to agree.

The sounds of chopping and tree-felling continued throughout the afternoon but nothing had changed. As Sieglinde could do little for those in the field but wait and Adalbern had seen to it that the village was as prepared as it could be for an attack, she returned to Humbert's side.

Adalbern's wife, Jessica, had given her an unrelenting hug before leaving the two of them alone. She had said nothing.

Humbert's body was not shaking as much though the fire in the room was small and did little to provide heat. Even the sweat on his forehead glistened less but she did not dare hope. His skin still felt wrong to the touch and he remained in a deep sleep.

There was a knock. When she asked who it was, Adalbern whispered back as he opened the door. He had come to give her a report.

There was no evidence of foul play anywhere near their defences or the manor, however, the sun had set long ago and those in the fields had yet to return.

Now that she had to consider the matter. She was not comfortable leaving them.

Sieglinde whispered, "We need to send someone to help them get home."

"They might already be dead," Adalbern said. "If we send more, they may die too."

"So what do we do?" she asked, her voice becoming unintentionally louder. "Just seal the gate and stay hidden in here as long as possible? Are you not the one who yelled at me that you wanted the chance to fight? Are you not the one who weeks ago risked the lives of men in a dark forest all for the greater good?"

"Yes," Adalbern shouted back. "I did all of that because I had to, to ensure our survival. My life does not matter if our people go on so I risked it when it seemed sensible to do so. The life of a few men do not matter if it means protecting their families. But sending anyone out now would risk everyone in here for a few out there."

"A few out there? Do you not even remember their names? We have been talking in generalities for far too long. Archers, sentries, men, women. We have forgotten that each and every one of them has a name. Each and every one of them is someone we have known our whole lives and have loved. Those people in the fields are Olga, and Ida, and Angelika, and Johan, and Kevin, and Ferdinand ... " She was forced to gasp for breath to continue. "How can you just dismiss them so easily simply because their bodies are on the wrong side of a damn wall?"

"You were willing to dismiss every one of us today the moment you thought of him," he said as he gestured with a solid hand to Humbert. "You did not care that we were needed on the wall. It could have been anything. Those upon the wall could already have been dead, their bodies giving us a new red waterfall. You thought of him and none of that mattered to you anymore. Are you our leader, Sieglinde, or his lover? Which is it?"

She could not help but look at Humbert. Her lips were trembling. Her fingers were trembling. Her chest twisted into a tight point. "I ... "

"You have proven you cannot have both," Adalbern said cruelly. "You must choose and if you choose yourself, your people will die."

"I ... "

Adalbern straightened. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but firm. "I will send my wife to care for him until he has recovered."

Reflexively, she grabbed Humbert's hand in hers and squeezed. She wanted to scream at Adalbern. How dare he talk to her this way? How dare he treat her so horribly? How dare he treat Humbert's life with such little regard? But the words would not come. The breath to carry them was stuck. Her lips trembled too hard to form the sounds. Cold shot down her cheeks and dripped onto her hand covering Humbert's.

"Go to the manor," Adalbern said. "I will give you daily updates of his condition but it will be someone else who tends to him. You need to focus on the threat outside those walls."

She wanted to lift Humbert's hand to her lips but Adalbern's appraisal was still piercing into her from the doorway. Her muscles were too weak to lift it. She closed her eyes and breathed.

"Goodnight, Adalbern," she said as she set Humbert's hand down and pushed herself to her feet.

He stepped aside to allow her to pass.

The walk back to the manor was slowed by her need to concentrate upon each step. Every curve of her ankles and flex of her legs took deliberate effort. The climbing of the stairs to her room was nearly impossible. By the time she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, the tears would not come. She had forced herself to stay calm too long. As close as she had been to sobbing in Humbert's shack, she was now entirely numb.

She walked to her bed and slowly lowered herself onto it. She did not bother to change her clothes. She had not lit a candle so the room was already dark. Sleep did not come.

Adalbern's words were bouncing around the inside of her mind. As the echo repeated, as she forced herself to see his point of view, clarity came to her.

He was right that she had not been focused on her real job. Humbert had become a distraction she could not afford. But she was no more convinced that he was right to leave the others to die in the fields. If they were not dead, if they were simply hurt or captured, how could she just leave them and not try to help them? How would they feel to know that they were left to hell so easily?

She got out of bed and walked back out of the manor, this time no longer in the weakened haze of shock and pain. She knew what needed to be done.

Adalbern's house was dark and her banging upon his door echoed through the village. She winced for a moment as she worried about waking the others, but the mission was too important to wait.

After much rustling, the door opened. Adalbern, holding a lit candle, was blinking back at her.

"Perhaps Christians are content sacrificing their kin without a thought but I will not have a single Mintharch lying in the sun being pecked at by the crows. Our people have always been about being better than that. We care for each other and we do not sacrifice or kill those of our own. Luitgard is gone. I am the new leader of the Mintharchs. Now get dressed, get a band of your men together, and go find our family."

He blinked. Then nodded. "Immediately," he said.

## Chapter 22

As much as Luitgard wanted to press on the next day, Justin got his way. Somehow, one of the horses had slipped a shoe. While it was generally a simple fix, the blacksmith insisted he could not even look at the matter until he had finished the work several crusaders had paid him to do.

Luitgard had tried to complain. She had offered more money. She had even threatened him. All her efforts to get the man to better accommodate them were for naught. He did not care about her complaints as he was the only blacksmith in that town. He also made clear that the Crusaders of which he had spoken would pay equally well and would be more likely to follow through on much more sinister threats. What did it matter to him if two strangers were inconvenienced for a while?

Even more irritatingly, he had the attitude that he would get to the issue when he got to it and no amount of pleading would convince him to commit to any timeline.

Luitgard was nearly ready to throttle anyone who looked at her, even Justin, by the time they got back to the inn. She was already soaked through from the heat. The humidity also seemed to make the air too thick to breathe properly.

She climbed the stairs to the room while Justin paid the inn keeper for another night. By the time Justin came in, she had already settled on the bed and was on her back with her eyes closed.

"I brought you some wine," he said.

She cracked open her eye to see him holding out a clay pitcher.

"You need liquids," he said. "You will only feel worse in this heat if you don't."

"Why do these people never have any water?" she asked as she struggled to sit up.

Justin chuckled. "You would cringe more at the water in these places than you would at the wine if you could see it. It is wretched stuff."

She took the offering and drank deeply from it. She was still not accustomed to the taste. She doubted she ever would be but the sweat on her skin made it more enticing than usual. She was able to tolerate it enough to drink half the contents before passing it back to Justin who also took a long drink.

"We could be here for days," she complained. "I bet that crook will pretend he is busy just to get us to offer him more money."

"And you would have paid every last coin," Justin chided. "He saw that clear enough. If that was all it was, he would be doing the work this very moment and we would be paying him handsomely for it."

She flopped onto her back. "Open the window in here," she said. "At least we could get a breeze."

He shook his head. "Not yet. The sun would come right in and heat us up even worse."

"And what are we supposed to do while we are here aside from melt to death?"

He shrugged as he set the pitcher on the floor under the window and out of the way of being knocked over by careless feet.

"We could explore the town later in the day when it cools," he suggested.

"I think I got my fill of mingling with locals in Vienna," she said with a scowl. "We have not been rid of the consequences since."

"Well, you could always take my advice and rest," he said. "That way we will definitely be able to get to Rome once the horses are fit. We will be in Rome within a fortnight even despite this little setback."

She grumbled inwardly but did not answer. The heat was making it very difficult to be mature about him getting his way. She closed her eyes again. Had she had the energy, she would have continued arguing but as her body relaxed, she decided the matter was not so serious after all.

The black waters were cold around her knees. She was unsure why she would have waded in fully clothed yet she was still walking forward. With each step, the black fluid rose higher. She wanted to stop. She wanted to turn around and climb out. Her feet did not heed her fears. One stepped in front of the other.

The dripping started again. Drip. It echoed in her ears. Drip. Her chest was submerged. Drip. The water was up to her chin. Drip. Her ears. Drip.

It consumed her. But she was not spared. Even being murdered by the waters did not give her relief. As she gasped for air, the dripping became louder and Dragonfather's pleas returned to haunt her.

"Please, Luitgard," he begged. "I cannot do this anymore."

Drip. Drip. DRIP.

She was choking, trying to swallow around the water as if that would bring her air. It brought only more fluid into her lungs. There was a high-pitched crack, like that of the first utterance of a thunderbolt. Dragonfather whimpered and sobbed.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

"Please."

She tried to cough and gasp. There was no use. In desperation, she clawed at the water around her and tried to scream.

She jolted in the bed and her eyes flew open. The relief of being alive lasted only a moment before the torment of her inability to save Dragonfather returned. She cursed and slammed her fists into the blanket. She slammed them down again. As she forced them into the blanket as hard as she could a third time, she growled her frustration.

She thought of the years after Dragonfather had disappeared. There had been no one to tell her wonderful stories about dragons. No one to speak of their feats with such passion that you would have thought he knew what it was to be one, as if he had flown the skies. No one to teach her the ways of the world with such beaming pride. She had cried herself to sleep thinking of those blue eyes of his. She had begged the Goddess to return her best friend to her. Her prayers had not been answered then. She had given up on them, the flights of fancy of a foolish child.

She had focused upon her duties because there was nothing else she could do. Chores had been her only distraction and her only comfort. Now she knew he was alive and she knew where to find him. Finally there was something she could do. She had to find him as fast as possible and she had to put her own blade into Merek's heart.

## Chapter 23

Contrary to what Sieglinde had hoped, Adalbern and the others had not returned by first light. He had taken Ivo, Kuno, Fabian, and Gebbert, her grandfather, with him. She found herself praying to the Goddess that they would return unseen. In her moments of anger, she had shunned Her. In her current depression, she could not help begging and praying for Her return.

When the light was still flat and the sun had yet to rise over the horizon, she stepped out of the manor and looked up to the sky. A wisp of cloud stretched and coiled in the winds above her. It was the only interruption in the blue expanse. She looked in the direction of Humbert's shack. She wanted to see if he had improved but Adalbern had been right. Her love of Humbert had clouded her judgement. She was not simply Sieglinde any longer. She was the lone High Priestess of the Mintharchs.

With Adalbern on his mission, she decided she should receive the sentries' reports before ensuring the days chores were being tended. As she walked down the manor steps, the horn blew. She broke into a run. As she neared the gate, something large and round flew over the wall and bounced in one of their emergency gardens.

The horn blew again but she changed course for the thing that had fallen. Kaspar was approaching it as well but from the opposite side. He reached it before her. His eyes went wide and his mouth slackened for only a moment before he remembered she too was approaching.

"Stop," he yelled to her. "You must not have this in your memory."

The horn blew again.

"What is it?" she asked, her heart growing heavy and cold in her chest as her suspicions mounted.

He said nothing.

"What is it?" she demanded.

As if to confirm her suspicions, tears fell from his eyes as he knelt down next to the thing. She knew what she would find if she approached but she also knew how important it was for her to do so. She walked up next to him just as he lifted Adalbern's head into his arms.

The horn blew again.

Though she had feared it, though she had always known it would be possible, she was delusional to think she could ever be prepared for seeing her friend mutilated. She choked on her grief. Tears fell without restraint. Her audible cries as much a siren to those who were approaching as the horn itself. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his head. Her father let her take it.

She cradled it and looked into the still open eyes, frozen in the terror of his last moments. Patches on his skin were charred. The rest was covered in soot. She could still smell burnt rye upon him. She pulled his head into the protection of her body, curling around it as she trembled. Her fingers shook so violently she worried she would drop him. Her father's arms wrapped around her shoulders and he held her close.

The horn blew again.

"They are coming!" Florian shouted from the wall.

Did they have no decency at all? One of the greatest men she had ever known was dead. He deserved a proper ritual. He deserved honours and for the village to mourn him together. He deserved reverence−the horn blew again−but the evil on the other side of the walls would not allow it.

She looked up. A small crowd had gathered. Oda was nearest. As she moved towards her great grandmother, Kaspar's arms fell away. With both hands, she lifted Adalbern's head to Oda. "Take him," she said.

"His wife ... " Oda asked. Sieglinde could see the shaking in her fingers as she took the offering.

"Is with Humbert," Sieglinde said. "I would go to her myself ... "

"I will tell her," Oda said as she cradled Adalbern's head.

Sieglinde looked at those gathered. "Do as we planned," she shouted. "If you are to hide, get your families to the manor. If you are to fight, get your weapons." She turned and ran to the tower. She climbed the ladder as fast as she could but her ability to pull herself up was hindered by her weakened fingers. It was Adalbern who had been the fighter. He had organized everything. She knew nothing of fighting or war.

She reached the top and looked over the walls. Nearly fifty armed men had stopped at the edge of the forest. Some had shields; some helmets; most had swords.

A sparkle caught her eye amongst the foliage. No, not a sparkle, a flame. A few feet away was another. Then another. Before she could comprehend what they were, the flames sailed through the air and over the heads of her and the sentries.

## Chapter 24

The next morning, Luitgard and Justin returned to the blacksmith after breakfast. The skies were still clear but there was a nip to the breeze that had a saltiness to it. The town they were in was not near a port but Justin had said the sea was not far. Whatever the cause, she welcomed the refreshment of this new wind.

The blacksmith was much more amenable to fitting the shoe now that he had completed his other work. He was finished in only moments and charged enough that even Luitgard knew he deserved a scowl but they would finally be able to return to their task so she did not complain. She did not let Justin complain either.

He gave the demanded coins to the blacksmith and they turned to mount their horses. Merek was leaning against Luitgard's. His arms were crossed and he was wearing a smirk. The sunlight at his back made his outline glow as if he were a god.

"Lovely to see you two again," he said. "I am growing fonder of seeing you every time we meet," he added as he looked at Luitgard.

She knew what he was doing. He would say anything to sew strife. She was sure he was taking great pleasure in the anger that was quite obviously rising in Justin. His cheeks were flushed, his fists had clenched, and he shifted his weight as if he had wanted to lunge. And as much as Justin had made his feelings about her clear, she did not believe this reaction was a simple matter of protective jealousy.

Whatever his reasons for playing the pervert, Luitgard's heart still beat just as fast as if his threats were backed by full intent. In the absence of her nightmare-induced anger from the previous day and in Merek's actual presence, his threats felt too real. The possibility of killing him felt too remote. She had no skill for fighting. She had never harmed anyone, not even an animal. At that moment, she was impotent.

"You are taking your time getting to Rome," Justin said.

Merek shrugged. "I will admit the delays have become rather irritating but it appears there is little that can be done about it."

"Sorry to be such a bother," Justin said. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

"You think too highly of yourselves believing you are the centre of my world," he said.

Justin did not reply.

Merek straightened and walked closer. "After everything I have done for you," he said. "The least you could do is treat me with a little respect. I was a father to you when yours was too drunk to know he had a son."

Justin was no longer intimidated. If anything, Luitgard thought he looked taller. For the first time, she thought he would actually be able to take Merek in a fight. "And who kept getting him the alcohol?" he asked. "I knew it was you. I knew what you did to him. It was you who made sure he drank himself to death."

"Now, now. Do not blame me for your father's actions. He caused his own death. It is sad that we cannot count on our fathers in this life, but that is hardly my fault."

Justin scoffed. "Maybe I would have believed that until you told us about Kilchain. Now I know what you did was revenge. And if you would do that all to find some way to get revenge on my great grandfather, then, yes, I do believe we are the centre of your world right now."

"Not everything is about revenge," Merek said with a smile. "Sometimes that is just an extra treat."

"Then fight me now, or leave us alone. I'm not playing your games anymore."

Luitgard took Justin's nearest hand in hers. He squeezed back but he did not look away from Merek.

"I have no plans to fight you," Merek said. He sneered at Luitgard, "Maybe brawling in the street is how pagans like it but I prefer a more intelligent approach."

"You prefer the deranged approach," Justin corrected.

Merek smiled. "Call it what you like but there is an art to what I do." He nodded to Luitgard. "Good-day, little pagan. I will have to show you my work another day."

He turned and walked down the lane without looking back.

The nip in the breeze was not refreshing anymore. Luitgard untied the shawl around her waist and pulled it tightly around her shoulders. She thought of her dagger. With Merek insisting upon lurking about, it was not wise to keep it in the saddlebag any longer, no matter how uncomfortable it was to wear it as she rode.

Before she let Justin help her onto her horse, she reached into her saddle bag. Her fingers wrapped around the ornately carved handle. As she pulled it out, something fell out of the bag and floated to the ground. She looked at her feet to see a thick lock of blond hair tied with a short piece of twine. It was the same sandy blond as Dragonfather's.

She grasped at it and held it close to her face to get a better look. She spun it between her fingers, looking at all sides. It was the same colour alright. She looked down the lane in the direction Merek had walked. He was gone.

"What is it?" Justin asked, his brow furrowed as he took in her expression and what she was holding.

"He does have Dragonfather," she said.

Justin grabbed the hair and looked it over. "This could be from anyone," he reasoned. "And wouldn't he be in his eighties by now? I doubt he would still have blond hair."

"He never had a single gray hair," she said, adamant.

"And that was a very long time ago that you saw him," he countered. "Hair can go completely white in a very short time."

"You are just trying to find an excuse to turn back."

"And you are just trying to find excuses to keep going," he yelled. "He is leaving breadcrumbs right into a trap and you are eagerly gobbling them up!"

"He has no reason to go to all this effort to get me to Rome. He already knows that is where I am going. Why would he bother with all of this? He knows we do not trust him. He is trying to get us to turn back."

Justin grabbed her face in his hands. "Did you not hear his threat? You will be one of his victims. That is what he wants."

"He is just trying to anger you and it is working."

"Of course it is working! But I also know him and even if he is just saying these things to rile me up now, he will carry them out just for the heck of it later. He is an abomination."

He let go of her face and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "No matter what we do, Merek will have a plan for how to get us where he wants us. He's not stupid. I doubt it even matters where we go."

She held up the dagger. "At least I will not go down without a fight, no matter what happens," she said as she pulled it from the leather sheath.

She tried not to take offense when he stifled a scoff. In fact, she found herself smiling. As she went to replace the leather sheath around the blade, her smile faded. There was a nick in the metal near the tip, one that had not been there before.

"How did that get there?" she muttered as she held it closer to look at it. Her mind ran through when it could even have been out of the sheath let alone been used. When her thoughts halted on the night Justin had gone for a walk, she lowered it to look at him.

"What were you doing with this?" she asked.

Unlike most people, who tended to avert their gaze when lying, she had learned right from their first encounter that Justin kept his eyes steady and his mouth shut. When he did exactly that, she turned the blade on him.

"Tell me right now," she said with the voice she used only with incompetent Goddess Maids.

"The horseshoe," he said.

Her heart pounded nearly as fast as it had with Merek. This time, her fear had been replaced by anger. "You took off the shoe?"

He stared.

"You could not get your way by talking to me, so you lied?"

"You would not listen to reason. You didn't seem to realize how far gone you looked. Without rest, you could have died."

She pressed the dagger against his chest. "Why should I trust you? You priests all seem to love your lies."

"I am not a priest!" he seethed back. "I did it to keep you safe."

"I do not need to be kept safe," she growled. "I need someone who will help me. Someone I can trust. I thought that was you." She forced the quaver from her voice. She was the High Priestess of the Mintharchs. She was on a mission to save their patriarch. The Goddess herself had spoken to her. She cried for no man.

"Get on your horse," she ordered. "We are riding as fast as we can to Rome. We need to make up the time your little lie has cost us."

His cheeks were red, but he kept his eyes on hers. "You can trust me," he said as he pulled away from the dagger. "I swear you can."

"I guess that is something I will never know for sure," she said.

When he walked around her horse to get to his, she quickly pressed the back of her hand to each eye. She ignored the wetness upon it as she pushed the dagger back into its sheath and tied it to her belt.

## Chapter 25

Sieglinde pushed herself against the back of her chair. She had nearly fallen asleep over her porridge. The few women that remained at the tables−still attempting to keep some normalcy and routine to their lives−all looked the same.

Only two-thirds of her people remained alive and able-bodied. The daily attacks had taken their toll. Their spirits were low as they all knew that it would take only a few more days like the last three to finish them.

She looked at her trembling hands and set down her spoon. They were still covered in the soot of the last fire she had helped extinguish. Even the stars terrified her now. Glowing dots in the sky spoke of death. Adalbern had been lucky he had been spared the hardships they faced.

Right on schedule, the morning horn blew. The attacks for that day had begun.

Mechanically, she pushed her chair back from the table and walked out of the manor.

There were no longer houses near the wall. Only those closest to the manor and out of reach of the arrows had managed to go without being burned to the ground. At least it had made it easier to deal with the repeated onslaught of fire shot into their midst.

Several flaming arrows embedded themselves into the ground nearby as she walked along the edge of the remains of the village, taking the daily tally of the surviving structures.

The giant boom of rocks hitting the wall echoed through the air. So far, their wall had held. She could not explain it but not a single piece of the hard white stone had fallen. She could not allow herself to be comforted without an explanation. That day, just the right rock might hit and bring the whole thing down. She had to assume the worst.

She returned to the manor to check on the wounded survivors. Ingeborg, one of the Mother of Children, and Alfons had died of their wounds in the night. Alfons' daughters were at his side. His daughter Marlene stretched across his chest and sobbed. His daughter Marieke, too young to comprehend what had happened, looked up at Sieglinde and asked when her father would be waking up. She hugged the girl as she said, "Never." The girl still did not understand. Did that mean tomorrow? The girl's mother arrived after having sewed another's wounds shut and lifted her daughter into her arms.

Sieglinde looked over at Ingeborg. Her son Diedrich was sitting next to her, his legs pulled to his chest; one of his arms wrapped around the shoulders of his little brother. He was staring at his mother's face but his eyes were dry. His father had been one of the farmers in the fields the day the attacks began. Though the younger boy was little older than Marieke, he knew his mother would never wake.

Sieglinde sought out her grandmother. Oda was in the corner of the hall checking the contents of several pots. She confirmed what Sieglinde had feared, the medicinal stores were dwindling. Even small wounds would soon be a large threat to them.

The fires had also destroyed most of the emergent gardens within the walls. Only the food in the storehouse remained. Though their numbers were less, that bloody blessing would still not be enough to get them through winter even if any of them could survive the attacks through summer.

A man was hunched over the wounded Adelina. Her hair had caught fire in her efforts to fight the flames the previous day. She had panicked and had not managed to extinguish them fast enough. Half of her head and her face were now raw and disfigured. Her body writhed with the agony and even from several feet away and the commotion of war around her, Sieglinde could hear her whimpering. Her survival was not expected.

The man stood and turned. Their eyes locked. It was Humbert.

Though she knew he had survived his own wounds−she had not seen, nor expected to see−him walking around. As usual, he was determined to be of some use.

Loud gasps and shouts caught their attention. They both looked at the manor doors. They were open and several people were gathered around them. Both Sieglinde and Humbert ran and pushed their way through to get a look at what was happening.

Sieglinde's heart stopped. Felix, the two-year old son of the dead farmer Angelika, was toddling towards the walls. He was already upon the scorched earth and within range of the fire arrows. The three-year-old Frauke, only slightly more aware of the danger, was trying to catch him. Both were in range. Both toddled upon black earth. Flaming arrows whizzed by them and embedded themselves to half-way up their shafts in the earth.

There were several people trying to get to them but it was Frauke's pregnant mother, Lara, who had noticed first and was nearest. She was rushing to get to them both. She had entered the range of the arrows too but was still too far.

Felix stopped and looked up at the pretty light of the arrow coming towards him. Several people screamed as the boy fell. Sieglinde's tears could not have been restrained. She forced herself to keep watching to make sure Frauke and Lara would make it. She watched even as her own lungs convulsed.

Lara was only feet away from Frauke. She threw herself at him, encasing the boy within the protection of her body. At the same moment, another arrow fell and hit her hard. They both tumbled over and onto the ground. Lara remained motionless.

A second later, Lara's husband Anselm was in the soot next to her and lifting both his wife and his son into his arms. He managed to carry them out of range without getting hit. Sieglinde expelled a great breath even as her tears refused to stop. She ran down the manor steps to meet them.

When she reached them, her throat hardened into a solid lump. Lara's form was truly lifeless. She gasped again as Frauke stirred. She reached out and took the boy from Anselm, whose knees gave way in his grief. Still holding his wife close, he touched his forehead to hers and cried. Sieglinde carried Frauke inside to be looked at by the healers.

To the relief of everyone, Frauke was uninjured. But Sieglinde saw Felix's death every time she closed her eyes. As glad as she was that Frauke was unharmed, she could not feel happy. As Sieglinde handed the boy to Lilli, she felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder. She looked up to see Humbert.

"Listen," he said.

She held her breath. Aside from the sounds of those moving about the hall, the cries of grief, and the groans of pain, she heard nothing. Her eyes locked with Humbert's. The booms against the wall had stopped. At the same moment, they both turned to run from the manor and to the gatehouse.

The onslaught of arrows had stopped. Those that remained stuck in the ground had already burned out.

Sieglinde needed to know what had broken the rhythm. Was something more coming? Had they finally inflicted damage upon the wall? She silently prayed that she would not be felled by the arrow of a renewed attack.

They reached the gatehouse and climbed the ladder. On the battlements, they looked to the south. They could see nothing but the top of the enemy's onager that sat in the clearing they had made. For the first time in three days, it was still.

She waited upon the wall. Clouds moved in and obscured the sun but the enemy archers did not return. Humbert climbed down from the battlements to return to the necessary chores. The guards changed shifts. She waited even after night fell and the campfires of their enemies dotted the forest. No further attack came.

In the middle of the night, she climbed down from the wall and walked back to the manor. She had no hope that she would sleep, but her body was quickly losing its ability to keep her upright after so long upon the wall.

The homeless filled the hall of the manor. Those with their homes not ravaged by fire were a lucky few.

When she was near the stairs, logs shifting upon the central fire caught her attention. She turned to see Humbert building it up.

Adalbern would have told her to go straight to bed. He would have reminded her how important it was to avoid distraction, but Adalbern had not seen the death she had seen. He had not watched his wife crumple and sob over what little they had left of him. He had not spent days and nights consoling those who would be disfigured from fire or would die slowly from infected arrow wounds. No matter how many people stayed huddled near the manor, each day saw someone new injured. Their numbers had been small to begin with and each loss was a significant blow to their ability to cope.

Adalbern had seen none of those things.

Humbert carefully set another log upon the fire. She had seen him from the wall working as least at hard as the others and he was still recovering from his mysterious wound. If the wall breached the next day, she knew he would lead the charge against the invaders. Even if he fought well, the risk of death or disfigurement were highest for him in his weakened state. She knew that without having to consider it. She had done as best she could to help lead them and protect them. Was the gratitude owed her simply to die alone? Yes, Adalbern would have told her to go straight to bed and that is exactly what she decided not to do.

She walked over to Humbert. His eyes widened when he realized who was approaching but he did not speak.

"Thank you for everything you have done," she whispered.

He turned back to watching the fire. "You're welcome." His tone was distant.

"How are you feeling?" She hoped he had gotten her meaning. She did not want to break his confidence by speaking of his wound in front of those who may or may not be asleep.

"I can manage," he said.

Her avoidance of him had hurt him. Though his hurt feelings felt like unfair punishment, she knew they were justified. But she could not tell him all of that in the open.

"Come with me," she instructed.

She walked to the manor doors. She did not want anyone present to see them climb to the High Priestesses' solar either. He did as she asked and followed as she returned to the outside. She walked around to the back of the manor and stopped at the shore of the lake.

The water lapped gently at the sand and rocks. She could not even hear its movement if her breathing were too heavy. The black expanse of water behind the manor was unsettling. It looked like a bottomless pit, as much a threat to her as to those who would wish to cross it to harm them. Thankfully, that had not been a concern.

"What do you need?" Humbert asked, his eyes upon the ground at his feet as he stopped within an arm's length of her.

There was no moon but she knew his face well enough that the blurred shadows of his features made a clear vision in her mind.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He looked up.

"I am sorry I have been avoiding you."

He shrugged. "You've been under much more pressure than any of the rest of us."

The muscles in her chest began to relax. Perhaps his hurt did not run so deep after all.

"I love you," she said. "I love you so much that I was putting you ahead of everyone else. It wasn't right. But ignoring you was not right either. I don't know how much longer we can hold off. They have yet to succeed with their rocks but the daily fire rain takes a chunk from us each day. If that wall ever begins to crumble, we will all be slaughtered. We may never have our wedding."

Her words had triggered something in him. He pulled her against him and held her tightly. She could feel the strength of his hands.

"I will not let that happen," he said.

"Noble words," she replied, "But not always a promise possible to keep, especially when you are still injured."

"I'm fine," he growled. "It is nearly healed."

"We both know a wound like that, one that nearly killed you, would not be healed by now. You are lucky to be walking around at all!"

He rested his head on hers. As the night breeze teased her cheek and the hair around her face, his embrace warmed her so that the dancing air did not chill but tickled pleasantly.

"Please forgive me," he whispered. "I was weak. I will never allow such a thing to happen again. I just, I needed to be useful. Then I wasn't and you had sided wtih Adalbern against me. I was all alone in that damn shack and had nothing left. I could not help protect us. I could not make you happy. I saw no reason to go on. I told myself that I would be one less to feed and to worry about when the attacks came. I wanted so much for the pain to end and at the same time I had convinced myself I was doing the right thing. I had intended to gut myself. But in those first seconds of blinding pain, as I pressed the side of the blade against my body, all-consuming fear came over me. I couldn't do it. I was so useless that I could not even end myself for the good of everyone around me."

A quaver in his voice went from mild to severe. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed.

He continued, "I was so ashamed. After all my efforts to be honourable and admirable, I was nothing but a spoiled child in the face of rejection and a coward in the face of mortality. I didn't want anyone to know what I had done. I tried to tend the wound myself, but you saw how well that went. When Adalbern found me, I was horrified and relieved. But I was also sure I would die after all. At that point, I was even convinced that such a pitiful death served me right for being such a halfwit. All I wanted was to see you."

He sucked in a shaking breath. "Then Adalbern fetched you to help me. When I saw you, I thought the Goddess herself had blessed me. I thought of how lucky I was to see such a vision before my last breath. I was too far gone even to be embarrassed anymore but you saved me. Your poultices worked and you stayed with me. I knew you were there. Even in my twisted dreams from fever, I could feel you near me. Everything else faded away. I focused upon that feeling of you near me. I focused upon everything that I adore about you. It was the beacon I needed to bring me back to life.

"But I don't deserve you after everything I have done and the worry I put you through. I can only do my best for everyone, and you are right, my promise is impossible to keep. My own cowardice has been proven. I am an unfit protector even if I spend my last breath trying to rectify it."

She squeezed him again. "Let me be the judge of how worthy you are," she said. She could have said more but all of the other words that appeared in her mind felt silly. Even without her intending them to, she knew they would belittle what he had just confessed so she left her reply as it was.

"I do love you, Sieglinde," he said. "More than anyone."

"And I you," she replied with another reassuring squeeze. "Now let us get you a night's rest in a proper bed. That wound cannot fix itself on a pile of dirty straw."

She heard the faint crack of his smile. "Anything to get me in your room," he teased.

Though she chuckled at his play, she rebuked, "You will be sleeping in there alone. I will be staying in the hall. You have been pushing it far too much with your exertion during the day. I am not going to make it worse by keeping you working at night."

"Tough love," he whispered. She could still hear the mirth in his tone and she smiled.

## Chapter 26

After two silent days, Luitgard and Justin entered Florence. Though this meant they would be in Rome in just over a week, she had difficulty feeling happy about it. She had been wakened by the tortured screams of her Dragonfather too many times and even just water dripping from a bucket made her ready to strangle the first person who crossed her.

Justin's betrayal had done little to help her mood. He had tried to explain himself on several occasions but she had heard all of his arguments before. He would go on and on about how he had done it to protect her, how they would be of no help to anyone dead. She said nothing when he talked.

He did not have to listen to the screams night after night. He did not have to feel the guilt of seeing her massacred home. Why could he not understand how important it was that they get there as fast as possible? A man's life was on the line; the last one she could save. It was a miracle he had survived the torture this long. His body and mind might already be beyond repair, but there was a chance she was not too late.

Justin seemed incapable of understanding any of that. His little stunt had broken the fragile bond between them. Even if she had wanted to fix it, she doubted it would ever mend. With the Mintharchs dead, she knew that after they saved Dragonfather in Rome, she would send Justin on his own way.

Perhaps his God would finally show him the truth he so wanted to find.

By the time they pulled up to an inn in Florence, Luitgard's lips were cracked and her throat dry. The fabric of her dress was too heavy for the humid heat even despite her switching back to her peasant clothes which were lighter and looser than Klára's dress.

Justin offered to help her dismount. She ignored his offered hand and grit her teeth as she slid from the saddle. Her thighs and backside gave long groans of protest as she stretched them. It never seemed to get any easier.

The church bells began their evening chimes. Luitgard scowled. Every reminder of their twisted religion dug her anguish deeper. They were the reason she was where she was now. They were the reason Dragonfather was being tortured. They were the reason her people were dead. Justin had been one of them. He had led them to her and to the others. He may have burned his robes but his belief in that god was as much to blame as anything else to do with the Church.

Dragonfather had taken her to Rome to teach her as much. He wanted to be sure she understood the importance of keeping the people safe. He wanted to be sure she understood why she could not again go off on adventures in the rest of the world. He had known what the Church did to people, even good people.

She tried to swallow but her throat was too dry. The effort simply lodged the painful lump more firmly in place.

She entered the room. Justin was at her back.

When she flopped onto the bed, he spoke. "Can I get anything for you?" he asked.

"No," she muttered into the blanket.

"You need to drink something at least," he said.

She closed her eyes tightly. "If you were going to insist on getting me something anyway, why did you bother asking?"

"I'm just trying to help," he said.

She pushed herself up. "Then stop it," she barked as she stood and began to pace. "You make everything worse with your noble intentions. You seek God's truth and bring down an entire race in the process. You seek to get me rest and possibly allow the man we are trying to save be killed. Just stop helping!"

"You're just tired from the ... "

"Yes, I'm tired," she yelled. "I'm sore. I'm exhausted in every part of my being but I am mostly sick of you. Get out. I don't want you to help me anymore. Just get out. I'll get to Rome on my own."

The colour rose in his cheeks. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. He tugged at the bag of coins secured beneath his surcoat and threw them at her chest. She tried to catch them but her reflexes were too slow. The bag hit the floor with a thunk and coins spilled from the top onto the floorboards.

He left, slamming the door behind him.

Let the cursed bastard be mad. He was the reason everything in her life had rotted. If he had never shown up, she would be happily praying over the evening meal after another productive day. Her people would be safe and secure and so would she.

He was being so selfish, treating her like his precious pet to be cared for all the time. She was the leader of a once great people. She had been responsible for all of their lives. She answered to no one except her own conscience. She had had great responsibilities.

... And she had failed in them all.

Her stomach flipped over and her fingers shook. Her knees wobbled. She slowly descended to the floor. She sat clutching her stomach.

What had she done? She had made all the decisions. She had been the one who insisted on going to Rome. She had decided not to turn back. Justin wanted to flee the church. She was the one who still sought it out. He had stayed up longer than his fair share every single night on the road. He had spent every moment thinking only of her well-being. He was risking his life staying with her. He was being tormented by Merek, his greatest fear, for her sake.

Her mouth was still dry, her lips as painfully cracked as ever, yet her grief ran deep enough that her body found the tears.

"I'm sorry!" she cried.

It was an apology to Justin, to Dragonfather, to the Goddess, and to the Mintharchs. She had failed them all. There was nothing left in her worthy of being called a leader.

When Justin did not return to the inn that night, Luitgard's despair only deepened. She did not blame him for not coming back. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how difficult it must have been to tolerate her. With him gone, she realized how much she needed him there; not just for his role as her escort, but because she truly did love him too. Even if she could not tell him that until it was all over, she at least wanted to have that chance. But she destroyed her own chances.

She lay in bed awake, listening to the creaks of the floor boards as the other guests and the staff moved about the inn. She stared at the ceiling beams, then at the floorboards as she draped her leg over the edge of the bed. The sun set and the sounds of the city lessened into an eerie silence punctuated by random barks or shouts.

She stayed where she was and waited.

The room was still dark when her cheek was caressed. She started and opened her eyes.

"Justin?" she asked to the figure above her.

"No, my little pagan. Has that bastard run out on you?"

She pulled away, trying to press herself against the wall. She knew better than to believe the sweetness in Merek's tone.

"What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you're alright," he said. "I saw Justin leave earlier. You should have known better than to trust someone like him."

"But I can trust someone like you?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Of course not, but that still doesn't mean you should have ever trusted him."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him how to find you," he said low. "I told him exactly what he would find. I even told him what your dear old grandfather would call you, little _Filia Draconis_. He knew it all. Do you honestly think he was looking for God's truth? He was looking for you, little one."

"Get away from me."

If it had not been for ' _Filia Draconis_ ', she would have ignored every word. She knew how much he wanted to hurt both her and Justin. She knew how willing he was to lie to cause that strife. But he knew that Justin had known the name. As she failed to push herself further into the wall, Merek's words pricked at her brain and continued their attempts to burrow inside.

"He has led you to me just like I wanted."

She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to pretend Merek was not there. She would not let him in. She reminded herself that Justin had told her he had learned it all from Merek. Nothing of what was said now contradicted that.

"If I am so important to you," she said, "Then why have you not made your move. You have had plenty of opportunity. Even more if Justin is helping you as you claim."

He leaned close. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck. It made her want to vomit and claw off her own skin.

"What makes you think I haven't," he whispered. When she did not respond, he asked, "Have you ever seen a dragon? Such a rare thing, they are. Some even claim they are only myth. But you and I know better."

"What are you talking about?" She asked even as she tried to pull away. The corner stopped her. She was trapped.

"The most power a mortal man can ever hope to achieve is that of a dragon, _Filia Draconis_. Your grandfather learned that. Those impenetrable scales ... I will never get them out of my mind. I could topple kingdoms. Those sparkling white points ... " He was breathing so heavily, she expected him to pant outright.

"You are insane," she said.

"An opinion I'm sure you've held for some time," he breathed into her neck. He lifted his hand and ran a single nail down her throat then grabbed her neck with his fingers and held tight. His nails dug into her flesh. When she tried to push him away, she found a knife pressed to the other side of her throat. She held still.

He brushed her cheek with his and held it there. Their skin was barely touching. The lightness of it felt like being covered in a swarm of insects. His calm, slow breaths tickled her ear. Her own were shallow and rapid in her anticipation of his attack. But it did not come. He simply stayed there, breathing against her.

Finally, after several more moments passed, he pulled away, withdrawing the knife in the process. "You are mine," he said. "We will see you in Rome."

He spun out of the room, the door closing quickly but silently behind him.

She stared into the darkness of the opposite wall, unsure of what exactly had happened. Part of her wished he had just gutted her right there. The memory of his breath upon her and just ... silence was far worse.

## Chapter 27

To Sieglinde's confusion, the attacks upon her people did not come the next day. Several more days passed before she stopped climbing the tower a dozen times to check on the forest. Several more days passed before she noticed the others in the village begin to laugh with each other again. They twitched less and visited each other more. Several of the injured were healing nicely, though they had had a few wrenching losses. Adelina had not survived. Her mother, Petra, had been so hard hit by the loss, that within the day, she had been found floating in the lake.

With the inexplicable reprieve in the assault, there began to be hope. They used what wood they could salvage to build temporary new homes, and they had even begun to plan a ceremony to honour the dead. The bodies had all been burned shortly after death out of necessity but there had been no ceremony in it. Performing the rite would help the people mourn.

The day of the funeral, the air was heavy. Featureless gray clouds stretched across the sky but she knew it would not rain. They were too light and too uniform. Despite the cloud cover, it was hot. As she walked her rounds, she tried to fan herself with her hand. It gave little comfort. When the morning tidying had been completed, she saw the people beginning to gather near the manor. It was time.

The villagers stood in a circle around her. They held hands and hummed and sung along as she led them in a chant. It was not one she had needed to sing before. She had not been a priestess long enough. The last time she had even heard it sung was over the fever-maimed bodies of Luitgard's and Humbert's parents.

In that ritual, they had burned the dead in great pyres with herbs and flowers as was custom. But with so much fire destroying their lives in the attacks, the custom no longer held the majesty and honour that Sieglinde remembered. When they had burned the murdered, she thought only of preventing disease. Indeed, the recent dead had not even been prepared properly. The bodies upon a pyre were treated with flowered tinctures and wrapped carefully. There had been no time and no resources to spare for such treatment. They had been set alight and the crowd had dispersed before the last of the fire had gone out.

And even now as her lament touched each of those around her, they could not spare the supplies for anything more than a ritual wealthy only in words and sentiment.

She spoke of the dead.

"Adalbern was important to us all," she said. "His unerring devotion to his duties and his wise guidance prepared us for what we have been forced to face. We have stumbled and we have not come through this without eternal scars, but most of us have survived. He worked to teach us. He was determined to teach me as best he could in such a short time. I hope that I can prove as wise as he was in the face of this enemy. He taught me so much."

She just hoped it would be enough.

"Thank you, Adalbern," she called to the sky. "You will always remain unseen."

"You will always remain unseen," the others repeated.

She swallowed a dry lump in her throat before speaking of those who had been working in the fields when they were attacked. She spoke of the fear they must have felt. How unfair it was that those who worked so hard for others in life should die with such fear. She spoke of Julia's skill in making the sweetest smelling tinctures, the same ones they would be using now were it a proper ritual. She spoke of her own father. Kaspar had fallen clutching his chest after several nights of no sleep and hard work keeping the others safe.

She wiped at her eyes and tried not to look at her mother.

She spoke of Boris' efforts to build the storehouse and how he was known for being the only person alive who could calm his little girl Sigi after a nightmare.

"Perhaps he will join you and protect you in your dreams, little one," she whispered, looking at Sigi, whose face was now blotched red and wet.

She continued speaking as she went through each of those who had died, right up until the most recent of the deaths. There were Garreon, Monika, Nina, Amand, Felix, Lara, Horst, Ebbe, Alfons, Karsten, Ewald, Gerulf, Friedmann, Alois, Ingeborg, Petra, Julia, Axel, Lucia, Lena, and Ansgar. After each one, she said, "You will always remain unseen," and those gathered would repeat the phrase in a quiet murmur.

Finally, she spoke of Adelina.

"That girl had not been on time to her lessons once in her life," she said. "She tittered with others when she should have been paying attention. Her poultices could knock you off your feet and only cure the lack of pus. Her sewing would fall apart in your hand. But ... but she was kind. And she had the most genuine smile of any of the girls I have ever taught. And I ... I would give my life if it meant she could titter her way through just one more lesson on just one more day.

"You will always remain unseen," she choked.

The echo of the crowd was quiet. The air was still and that confirmed for Sieglinde what she had been feeling for weeks. They were alone. They were fighting alone. If they survived, it would be alone.

Though she was sure they would likely lose any coming fight, she had honour enough not to say it. And she had honour enough to know it did not matter. She would fight even with her last breath. For that much, Adalbern _had_ taught her well.

## Chapter 28

When morning came, Luitgard's fingers were still trembling as she secured the saddle bags to the back of her horse. There was no barrier. There was no Justin. There was no Goddess.

She was alone against Merek now and the odds were so incredibly stacked in his favour, that he only needed to pick the moment of his choosing. She rested her hand against the side of a saddle bag. She could feel the shape of the dagger beneath the leather. It was the only comfort she had, as little as it was. She knew how the society of these Christians worked. She was a woman now travelling alone. It was not only Merek she need fear.

She took a quavering breath and let her head fall back. She closed her eyes and willed away the tears that wanted to fall. Through the sheer force of her clenched jaw, she kept them at bay. She focused upon the acrid smell of the stables as it pierced the inside of her nose. The warmth of the horse next to her radiated over her hands as they rested against its side.

Whether she turned back or tried her luck in Rome, it did not matter now. She was in as much danger either way. She was alone either way. She would never again set eyes upon the beautiful smile of Justin. She had already forgiven every word Merek had said about him. Justin had said he had been told about the Mintharchs but not believed it. He had not lied about that.

Her head fell forward and came to rest against the side of the animal. She stood there for several moments with her eyes closed, just trying to breathe. When the vision of Merek's midnight visit came back to her, her eyes flew open and she straightened with a sharp intake of breath.

As she breathed out, anger flooded her. She had spent her life focusing upon the protection of her people at the sacrifice of herself. She had learned to be strong when it was necessary. She would not let one event of torment erase who she was.

She took the reins of her horse. With one last look at Justin's, which was still in its stall, she led hers from the stable. She ignored the raised brow of the stableman who was at least good enough to keep his silence about her new solitary travel. She forced her chin not to sag as she led the horse onto the lane.

She had walked several paces when she heard a voice from behind her.

"The point of having a horse is to ride it," he said.

She spun around.

Justin was standing in the middle of the lane. She blinked, but he did not disappear. He walked up to her.

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

She threw herself forward and tightly wrapped her arms around him.

"I was a spoiled idiot," she cried. "I take it all back, every word. I do not know what came over me. I do not know how I could have treated you like that."

He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. "Exhaustion can turn the sweetest of people into a monster," he said. "I know you did not mean any of it."

The tears broke free of their restraints and fell silently down her cheeks as she refused to release him.

"Let me get my horse, and we can set off," he said. "We still have a few days of this abuse left."

She closed her eyes and pretended she could not hear him. She wanted to stay holding him. The world was vile and cruel. She was in no rush to return to it.

"Luitgard?" he asked.

"Merek came into my room last night," she said without meaning to. The words simply ejected her thoughts without her volition.

Justin grabbed her shoulders and held her back to look into her face. His eyes were wide.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"What did he do?" Justin did not seem convinced.

"He threatened me," she said. "But then he left."

His eyes flicked over her body as if to confirm she was telling the truth. Then his eyes closed and his jaw tensed. "I should never have left you," he said. "It was poor judgement." His eyes opened and he looked directly into hers. "I will not make that mistake again."

He looked down and took her hand in his and grabbed the horse's reigns with the other. As they walked back to the stable to get his horse, he said, "For the first time, I am thankful that Merek enjoys playing with his victims first. That at least has saved you this time."

She swallowed and nodded as she squeezed his hand. His return had pulled her back from the precipice. As stressed as she had been about continuing the journey alone, she had not realized exactly how terrified she had been until it was no longer a threat. Her relief was complete. A part of her mind tried to remind her that the largest tasks had yet to be done. Her journey was not over. The threats were not gone. But she could not find it in herself to care at that moment. She was too happy and relieved at what she would no longer have to face.

Within minutes, they were riding through the city streets together. They resupplied and headed for the gates.

## Chapter 29

Sieglinde leaned back against the embankment on the edge of the lake and rested her hands on her stomach. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. It felt good to be in the shade breathing in the smell of grass and warm bark. She needed that moment out from under the weights on her to clear her mind.

Their metal resources had dwindled to nothing, meaning so too had their arrows and spears. They were ill-equipped to fight even if they had wanted to give the effort.

Sieglinde had been helping the others to build temporary houses closer to the water. As the day wore on, the sky cleared to an uninterrupted blue and the air stilled. It quickly became too hot to work. She welcomed the opportunity to ignore the weights upon her mind.

She could hear splashing in the water nearby as several of the others drank to refresh themselves. Oda had brought several children to the water to play and they were giggling. For that rare moment, she revelled in the sounds that belied their fate. For that moment, there were no threats. The world was perfect.

"What a good idea," Humbert said as he approached. "I think I will join you."

She cracked open one eye. He was bare chested and wet from splashing in the water with the others. He sat next to her and copied her in leaning against the embankment. She closed her eye again.

"You've found the perfect spot," he said.

She smiled.

"I went to the smithy and talked to Conrad this morning," he said.

Sieglinde groaned. "Can't we pretend our problems do not exist for one afternoon?"

"I know what you mean," he replied. "But it was good news. Are you sure you don't want to hear it?"

She turned her head and looked at him. "What is it?"

"He found some kind of stones in the marshy part of the lake," he said. "They look almost like milky crystals. Well, they sparkle like them anyway." He opened his hand and revealed that he had been holding a small bundle of cloth.

She took it and unwrapped it. A small triangular point with a rounded base was resting within the cloth. She turned the sharp point over in her hands. This strange stone was solid white and sparkled like the water in the sun. The edges were sharp enough that a delicate touch was needed even just to examine it.

"They would be perfect for arrowheads," Humbert said. "Except for the fact that they have no notches. But they are sharper than any blade Conrad has ever made. He says the bottom of the lake seems to be covered in them so we would likely run out of wood before we would run out of points."

"And are we going to run out of wood?"

"Enough for arrows? Not likely," he said. "We should be able to last quite some time. I'm thinking we might even be able to fight a little more forcefully when they show up again. If we don't have to ration the weapons as much, we have a better chance."

"I hope you're right," she said as she continued to stare at the point. It was strange how white it was and how easily it sparkled with even the slightest light touching it. It was so much like the wall that protected them.

The splashing had quieted. She turned and saw that most of the adults were now sitting in the shade of the manor, watching the children swim. She re-wrapped the point and set it down the grass next to her. Her mind refused to consider what this new find meant for them. For some reason, the sparkle of that stone had made her think of the past, of the founding of the village, and how things had happened since then.

After a deep breath, she asked, "Do you know that I was never meant to be a leader?"

"Don't say that. You're a great leader." He reached out and rubbed her arm to reinforce his words of encouragement.

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I'm not saying I can't lead. I'm saying I was never supposed to lead. I was born no different than any of the Goddess Maids we have now. I was no different than that girl who died. Then all of a sudden, one day in my lessons, it all made sense. The herbs, the weaving, the spells and rituals, every aspect of them worked. They all made sense to me. I could understand exactly how and why. It caught everyone by surprise but they were delighted.

"When Luitgard's parents died, she was too young to lead alone and too young to marry. So I was picked as her counterpart based on my skill. Even then, no one ever thought I would amount to anything. I was just supposed to be a helper. I was to make Luitgard's responsibilities manageable by taking on some of the tasks. Luitgard was always supposed to be here and so long as she was, I never had to make any decisions. Even disciplining the Goddess Maids often fell to her. At least, that is how it seemed as she never trusted me with the task.

"Then she left and the soldiers showed up. All of a sudden, everyone expected me to know what to do. Everyone expected me to have the miracle answer to sending those men away. The only one who knew I couldn't do it was Adalbern. He tried his best to help me but he had so little time. He didn't get a chance to teach me much of anything. When I saw his head, that was when I knew we would die no matter what choices I made. I felt like a child trying to stand between the people and the enemy.

"But here we sit, talking about weapons and tactics. Hardly a thing for a child to understand. Yet I have no fear of it anymore. Perhaps accepting that we will all die was what set me free as a leader. No matter how badly I fail, it has to be better than that, right?"

He squeezed her hand. Then, propping himself up on one elbow, he looked down at her. "You haven't failed yet," he said, "And I don't believe you will." He leaned over and pressed his lips gently to hers. "You are the Goddess that protects me," he said. "And despite my efforts, I am still here. We will defeat them."

She kissed him back. "Even if we don't," she said. "At least we will die together."

## Chapter 30

Though it was still uncomfortably warm for Luitgard, the day was uniformly overcast. There would be no rain but there would also be relief from the sun. She found the discomfort less of an issue now. Justin was with her again and his presence had improved her mood considerably.

Justin reached over and pulled Luitgard's horse to a stop.

"When I stormed out of the inn," he said, "I wandered the streets. I somehow found myself inside the church. Perhaps in the back of my mind, I still thought it might provide me sanctuary from my life. While I was there, I looked around at all the images that I would have once considered holy. They gave me no comfort. Nothing about them felt right to me anymore. I could not find it within myself to care about God or what he might want or need from me. I stayed there the whole night trying to figure out why that was but my mind kept coming back to you. Through all of it, I realized one thing. There is something I should have done a long time ago."

In one fluid movement, he reached over, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her onto his horse. He looked in her eyes for only a moment before leaning down to press his lips against hers. Her sense of responsibility could not be found and she did not care to go looking for it as she sunk into him and returned his attentions with the undulation of her own lips. When they mutually parted, they were both breathing heavily.

"When our business in Rome is finished," he said low, "I would make you my wife."

"I thought you were celibate," she whispered with a small smile.

He growled playfully. "When will you learn that I am no longer a man of the Church?" His smile faded. "Would you?" he asked.

"If tolerating me is no punishment for you, then I gladly say yes."

He smiled broadly before kissing her again with even more enthusiasm than he had before. When he pulled away, she could still feel the power of it sparking throughout her body, which she had not realized she had been pressing and rubbing against him.

Her cheeks quickly felt hot and he seemed to notice the state of her.

"The road is not the place to make a marriage," he whispered. "We will have plenty of time after Rome."

She was reluctant to move. He smiled again as he rested his forehead against hers.

He said, "I am truly blessed if my affections have touched you so deeply that you have forgotten your Dragonfather."

The unwelcome reminder squelched her desire like a bucket of water. The pleasant sparks turned to acidic cold in her arms as she tried to straighten and get herself back onto her horse. Justin helped lift her back into place.

"Let us not waste any more time," he said as they set off again.

## Chapter 31

As the light of the sun turned red, Justin and Luitgard pulled up to one of several inns in a town that had few buildings other than those for the accommodations of strangers. A bakery, stable, blacksmith, and a smattering of small shacks were all that made the town aside from the inns. Wooden palisades surrounded it but Luitgard did not feel any protection once they were within the boundary of those walls.

Those with no attachment to a place rarely took care of it and it appeared there were many of those people there that night. The first inn was filled with mercenaries and soldiers; the second with knights. They left their horses at the stables before checking the third. A pedlars cart was parked around the side and two servants−possibly serfs, low enough to look regularly deprived of food−were playing a game in the dirt with rocks as they watched over it.

When they opened the door to the inn, Luitgard saw the owner look up sharply. His face softened when he saw them.

"Welcome," he said. "Not a good night to be in our town but I have room if you have money."

Justin held up a silver coin. The man nodded and took it. "Except for the two rooms upstairs and at the back, you can have any you like," he said. "We have beer and bread though I recommend staying in your rooms tonight."

"That was our intention," Justin said. "We just need rest before finishing our journey to Rome."

The man smiled. "Easy customers," he said. "You are my favourite people tonight."

Justin and Luitgard went upstairs and chose a small room at the front of the inn. The shutters were closed and the air was unpleasantly stale with the smell of horses from the street and the lingering odor of a stained chamber pot, which sat in the corner. The accommodations were simple with a mattress covered in skins against one wall. When Luitgard squeezed it with her hand, she suspected it was stuffed with wool. Against the opposite wall was a small wooden table with a bowl and pitcher for washing.

As Luitgard set her saddle bags down, Justin pushed open the shutters. He stood at the window for several moments.

"The inn keeper's right," he called back. "It appears there is already a row at that first inn."

As he made to close the shutters, Luitgard stopped him. "Please, leave it open for a few minutes at least. It stinks in here."

He nodded and left it open. He walked over to the chamber pot and picked it up. "I'll see if I can get this cleaned out," he said.

"Are you sure it is wise to go back down there?"

"I'll only be gone a minute and I'm not going near that other inn."

She nodded in agreement but after what had happened in Florence, she felt little confidence in him being gone any length of time at all.

She sat on the bed and waited, too nervous to go near the window to see what was happening amongst all the shouts down the lane. The noise became too frenzied. She could not take it anymore and got up to close the shutters. There was a fight in the streets and several of the mercenaries and soldiers were cheering on the men trying to kill each other.

The door hinges behind her creaked loudly and she jumped.

"It's just me," Justin said. "I couldn't risk getting water with those men in the street so I used some of the inn keeper's beer. He wasn't too pleased about it and I cannot say this thing smells any less like piss now but maybe we won't notice it."

He set the bucket down in the corner as she rethought closing the shutters. With Justin close, the threat of the drunken did not seem so strong. Her stomach growled and she decided it was more important to sate her hunger. She pulled a stale roll out of her saddle bag. It was rock hard so she sat on the bed and sucked at it.

"I saw Merek when I was out back," Justin said.

She lowered the roll.

"I'm not sure he saw me then but I'm sure he's been following us the whole way," he said. "Just another reason to stay locked up in here tonight."

Her hunger had dissipated and she stared at the bread in her lap. Justin sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"We're together," he said before kissing her head. "Don't give him another thought."

She nodded and leaned into him. "I am so weary of living in fear," she said. "We went so many years without any signs of threat that I had stopped fearing. Then the horn blew the day you arrived and all the fear I should have felt erupted in me and has been simmering ever since. Now I cannot remember what it was like to feel safe. I am even beginning to think I imagined it, that I never really felt any security and only dreamed it during tense nights." Her fingers trembled around the roll and it fell to the floor. "I just want this to be over."

"And it will be soon," he whispered. "Within the week, we will be riding home with Dragonfather by your side."

"How can you be so optimistic now? The threats seem even worse and yet you have hope you lacked before."

"If I entertain death, we will die," he said. "If I focus on what will come when it is over, I know we have a chance to live."

"I think maybe I should try that. You seem to be handling this all better than I am."

He gave her shoulders a squeeze but said nothing.

They lay in the bed, holding each other and listening to the outside commotion as they fell asleep.

Luitgard stood before the gates of her home. The wooden palisades had been burnt to the ground. The stone remained intact but the large wooden doors of the gate were open. The smell of charred wood and flesh choked her. She began to run towards the gates but stopped. Did she want to see that? She already knew what she would find. She could hear the echoes of the fighting. Her nose tickled with the smell of sweet flowers.

"Why do you come back here?"

"Justin and I ... we were going ... "

"There is nothing for either of you here. Your truth lies in Rome."

Luitgard turned, Behind her stood the same, tall, dark-haired woman. "And what about after that?"

"You still believe there will be an after?" the Goddess asked.

Luitgard began to cry. Her fists tightened. She glared at the woman before her.

"Why did you forsake us? You were supposed to protect them!" she yelled. "We tended your barrier for generations. We worshipped you. All we asked was to be kept safe! That was all we ever asked. " She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "You gave us nothing in return. You are no Goddess! You are nothing! You do not even exist except in these horrid dreams! Why? Why could you not exist? Why could you not save us? Why did Sieglinde have to die? Why did Adalbern have to die? Why did Humbert have to die? Why did Oda have to die? Why did ... " Her grief had sapped her. She collapsed to her knees and coughed the last of herself onto the ground.

The Goddess walked up to her and stopped. "It was not my task to protect any of them," she said. "It was my task to protect you."

Luitgard looked up but she had no strength to say anything.

"The deal your Dragonfather struck was for the village until he brought you to Rome. Fearing for his favorite girl who seemed determined to explore, he changed the terms. It no longer held for the Mintharchs. I have no more duty to them. I have only you left to whom I have any obligation. And despite those who track you and the dangerous places in which you have found yourself, you have remained unharmed, have you not?"

"How can you be so cold?" Luitgard whispered. "You care nothing for any of their lives?"

"I cared no less than you did," she said. "It was not I who left them. I simply followed you."

Luitgard collapsed and cried into the dirt. "You care nothing for your people unless a deal has been made?"

"You are the one who chose to leave them defenseless. Do not blame gods for the faults of man."

"I did not know I was leaving them defenseless!" she screamed. "I knew nothing of this."

"Then do not presume to lecture those who do," the Goddess warned. "Nothing has changed. Your truth still lies in Rome."

"And what do I do in Rome? Will you show me all when I step through the gates?"

"The angel of your dreams will guide you," she said. "You sacrificed your people for truth. Do not make that sacrifice be in vain."

Luitgard blinked away her tears. The Goddess was gone. The ruins of her home were gone. Her head was resting upon Justin's chest and the sun was peeking around the cracks of the shutters.

There was no more shouting outside. She could hear only the hooves of the horses as travellers set on their way for the day. None of it reflected her misery.

Justin began to stroke her hair. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

She buried her face in his side and cried.

Though he became instantly concerned and insisted she tell him what was wrong, she did not have it in her to do so. Her thoughts were too chaotic and painful to voice. When she assured him that she would tell him about her dream when she was ready, he finally relented and let her be.

They washed and readied for the day. When they were leaving the inn, the keeper commented on how lucky the other inn keepers were that their buildings were not burnt to the ground. What appeared initially to have the potential of being a great brawl had fizzled without incident.

When they walked in the lane and Luitgard saw the unconscious, bloodied, and swollen form of a mercenary at the side of the road, she could not help but disagree with the inn keeper's assessment. It could have been worse but there had definitely been an incident for one man. She thought the inn keeper uncaring to be unconcerned with the beaten man so long as he himself was unharmed.

Her mind went to her fallen family. Her guts roiled with her guilt. How could she judge him? She may care about the deaths of her people but she cared too little to prevent them. She was no different and that was a thought she knew would torment her for the rest of her life.

## Chapter 32

Sieglinde inspected the work of the smithy. Those who would normally have worked the fields were free to offer their labour and had helped Conrad create an efficient and skilled team. Just as he had assured Humbert, the strange points in the lake were plentiful and easily obtained. Though the helpers' hands were covered in new cuts daily, they managed to keep the supply of arrows fully stocked.

With the discovery of this new resource, Sieglinde had also instructed that more bows be made. Every person was to be trained so long as they were big enough to hold one. Though hope brought her its own form of terror, Sieglinde was finally beginning to entertain the thought that they could survive an attack.

This was despite the fact that the enemy tactics still confused her. There was little that could be done but react whenever they finally chose to attack. Regardless of their newfound supply for weapons, they lacked the numbers and the training necessary to change to the offensive. So long as the wall stood, she felt such an attempt would be foolhardy anyway.

These new arrowheads were so much like that wall. They were the same colour, sparkled in the same way, and seemed impervious to damage. None of them had any idea what the stone was because it was not one they had had seen around their lands in any of the years previous. The fact that they were so perfectly formed and each one was exactly like the last was also perplexing.

Was it a gift from the Goddess? A small token to help them protect themselves? She did not know but she also felt any answer would be meaningless to their current plight. As far as she was concerned, the Goddess was no better than Luitgard. Both had abandoned the Mintharchs.

"Sieglinde?"

She looked up. Humbert was in the doorway of the smithy. His brow was knit.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I need to show you something," he said.

She nodded and handed the point back to Conrad. She quickly thanked him for his hard work before hurrying after Humbert who was already walking towards the Storehouse. When he reached it, he opened the door and indicated for her to enter.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You are aware that due to the fire arrows, our gardens have been reduced to almost nothing?"

She nodded, "Of course."

"So you are aware of how tight the resources would be even if our rationing were at its best?"

She nodded again. She felt her mouth going dry with this line of questioning. "What is it?" she pressed.

He grabbed a metal bar off the wall and walked to one of the barrels that held rye for bread. Using the bar, he wrenched off the sealed lid. It hit the wooden planks of the floor with a loud bang that made her jump.

The storehouse was dim but she had left the door open and in the sunlight, could see him clearly as he beckoned her over. She was afraid to do as he asked but walked forward nonetheless.

She could hear the squishy crawling first but it was the sight that nearly made her vomit. Several dead rats rested on top of the grain. One was already missing its belly which was being actively devoured by dozens of maggots that squirmed over each other. The smell of the rotten flesh invaded her nose and she covered it with the back of her hand. It had penetrated too deeply and she was sure the smell would remain lodged there for days.

"The entire storehouse is full of them," Humbert said as he threw the metal bar to the ground.

"I thought Adalbern made sure this was built so that could not happen?"

He nodded. "Aye," he said. "But you can't keep out vermin if you don't keep the door shut. I have caught several of the small ones in here looking for food when the rest of us are distracted. I also found the door open and no one around several more times."

"All our food is gone?" she whispered.

"When I discovered the rats this morning, I checked all the barrels," he said as he stared at the dead rats. "There were a few that appeared untouched. I carried them into the manor. It's the best we can manage for now."

"How long will the rest last?"

He lifted only his eyes to look at her. "With our current population?"

"Of course with our current population!" she shot back.

"A few weeks."

She swallowed.

He looked down at the rats again. "If they attack us and we lose any others, we might last longer."

She shook her head. Her fingers were trembling. She wrapped her arms around her middle, forcing them to still beneath her elbows. "Don't say that," she whispered. "Please do not talk like that. You finally had me convinced we might survive. Do not tell me now that all our good fortune of late has been erased. Don't you dare tell me that!"

"We need to consider other options," he said. "If you want the people to live ... "

"What am I supposed to do? If they attack, we might all be killed. If they don't, we will all starve. Arrows alone cannot win an offensive and our blades are too few."

"Then we need to leave."

She nearly fell over. Leave? Where would they go? How would they even manage it? They were surrounded by those who would kill them. There was nothing for them in the Christian world. Even if they could, she would not give up her home, her mother's home, her grandmother's home. Why had they worked so hard if they were not going to treat their home as sacred as it was.

"That's impossible," she said. "Even if we wanted to. You know as well as I the lake is blocked and they would cut every last one of us down if we open that gate."

"Well, we need to think of something because right now our options are to be murdered or to starve."

* * *

The vermin infestation of the storehouse had been the last straw for Sieglinde. The fact that they also now lacked enough food to feed the few remaining animals and had to slaughter them had not helped either. Within days, their food stores had gone to almost nothing.

Each night since Humbert had shown her the state of the storehouse, she had not slept. Her hours of staring at the wooden beam above her had brought one conclusion. The Goddess had not only given up protecting them, she was now actively sabotaging them. There would be no one to save them; no miracle to end the siege.

Their deaths would be from starvation or from massacre. She had to choose which. As much faith as she had held in the wall, she had to face the fact that it was only that, a wall. It was not a protector. It could not fight off the invaders if they chose to renew their attacks. It could not feed the people. There were no true barriers left around them. What risk did she want to take?

The last time Adalbern had yelled at her haunted her. He had wanted to fight. He had wanted a chance to win. Hiding was not giving them a chance. The only guarantee was that the food would run out if they stayed hidden. There was no reason to believe the soldiers would just end the siege one day, though she was beyond understanding what the enemy soldiers were trying to accomplish. They had stopped their attacks and she still had not figured out why.

The Mintharchs needed to take a chance and they had to do it when there was enough of the season left to forage the forest if they won. She cringed and rubbed her hands over her face as she thought of the despair that would result if the people fought off the invaders only to starve anyway. They would starve anyway.

She had been afraid to make this decision but the lack of options made the necessary actions perfectly clear. Now that it had finally come to her, she realized how she should have done it long before; long before they lost members of their families to infections and fire and arrow wounds. She had been a coward but she was determined to make amends for it.

Within the hour, she stood in the smithy; Humbert at her side.

"We are going to fight," she explained to the smith. "We need you to take any metal you can find and make it into offensive weapons. The arrows alone will not be enough. We need more swords and daggers. Things for hand to hand combat."

The man swallowed and ran his thick, scarred fingers through his greased hair. "When?" he asked.

"Within the week," she said.

"And the children?"

"I will make arrangements in case we fail," she said quietly to keep the others from hearing.

He nodded his understanding.

She and Humbert left the smithy. Humbert decided to go help with the tending of the gardens. Though she normally would have helped, ordering the first preparations for battle made her feel weak. Now that she had vocalized the decision to others, she could not turn back. She walked to the manor, hoping to steal a moment of solitude.

No one took any notice of her as she climbed the spiral stairs. When she opened the door to the solar, everything within her went cold. A large man was seated upon Luitgard's bed. He had broad shoulders and long limbs but his face was wrinkled and drawn. The morning sun shining through the window illuminated his white hair.

"You have grown into such a tall lady," he said.

She pulled back, ready to run from the room and scream for help. Sense would have done so but something familiar about his blue eyes kept her where she was.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You don't remember me?" he asked back. "You were very young at the time I suppose. But tell me, where has my sweet little Luitgard gone? My friend Arnold happened to meet her in Stare Mesto and found it quite odd that she had left the village."

Sieglinde stepped closer. "Lord Mintharch?"

He chuckled which led to a cough. "Not a name I have been called in a very long time," he said. "Sorry I have been gone for so long. It seems my problems have found their way to your gates despite my efforts. I am sorry for that, but hopefully it is not yet impossible to set it right."

"Where have you been? We were convinced you were dead. Luitgard was heartbroken when you never returned. Were you in Rome?"

He seemed surprised by her last question. "Why do you ask about Rome?"

"Because that is where Luitgard went," she said. "To look for you. She was convinced you were captive there."

His face turned from serious to murderous. "I knew she had gone off somewhere but why would she ever think that the place to go?"

Sieglinde explained about the Dominican who showed up in front of the gates and how Luitgard was convinced the Church had tortured information out of him. "Then she left and this army showed up," she finished.

"Of course they did," he said. "She was the only reason any of you were protected."

Sieglinde blinked. Her lack of understanding evoked a heavy sigh from him. The shutter banged against the casement as a breeze caught it.

"I had hoped I would never have to tell another soul this story," he said. "Years ago, when I was a different man, I fought at the Church's bidding. I did things that do not make me a proud man. Then, we were ordered to kill the Cathars. 'Kill them all. God will sort our his own,' we were told. As I stood looking down at the bloodied and lifeless body of a child, I hated myself. I had no idea how I had become such a monster. I had once thought myself noble and honourable. Killing children isn't honour." He stood and began to pace the room as he continued his story. "I suppose as punishment for my deeds, I found out after the battle that my son, who had been a soldier like me, had been cut down mistakenly by one of our own men. As heartbroken as I was, I knew I deserved it. I had dealt worse upon others. I had brought it upon myself and ensured that I would have nothing of worth left in my life. Broken, I made a pilgrimage to Rome, hoping to seek answers from God himself.

"When I got there, it was not God who answered me but one of the old Goddesses," he said. "She listened to my heartbreak and through that we began to discuss the nature of man. I told her that if there were no greed, man could live in peace. She thought me foolish but was willing to let me prove it. We made a deal. She told me to head north and bring with me any others I met who desired a peace that could not be found in their own homes. Oda, Ewald, and several others joined me and we continued to travel through the wild and deserted countryside. When we found a place to make our home, the Goddess would offer protection for those of my blood from the same horrible deaths I had inflicted upon others. With her protection, she said I would have a chance to make a peaceful society. If I failed, if inner discord ripped that society apart, she won and would have my soul.

"Finally, she gave me a dagger. The one tool that could be used to break the contract if I felt it necessary. The deal could only be broken in Rome."

Sieglinde had trouble comprehending it all. The words made sense but all of their years of tending the barrier seemed embarrassingly fruitless now. "It was Luitgard that made the barrier?" she asked.

"I never told anyone the truth about her," he said. "I could not place such a large burden upon such a young girl. I had hoped to tell her one day but then I was forced never to return and had to hope that her lack of knowledge would not endanger all of you. My worst nightmares are coming true." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "Where is the dagger? It is not in the chest where I left it."

Sieglinde swallowed. "It is in Rome," she said, "With Luitgard."

He bellowed, "What?"

"I gave it to her to keep her safe as she travelled. I did not trust the man she was travelling with."

His eyes darkened. "It was a Dominican who came here?" he said.

She nodded. "I think his name was Justin," she explained.

"Not a man named Merek?"

She shook her head.

"Unfortunately, that still does not comfort me," he said. "Merek had fought with me. He was not much more than a boy when I met him. He was alone and had no one to look after him. I tried to look out for him when I could. As he got older, we fought alongside one another. He loved the fighting and loved having me there. But when we were ordered to kill the Cathars, I could not share the same enthusiasm he showed. It was the last time I saw him until I returned to Rome with Luitgard. He had joined the Dominicans because he said no one suspects them of anything. He found more protection and more freedom for his misdeeds under the guise of a travelling friar than of a warrior. He asked where I had disappeared to. He asked many questions.

"After Luitgard's parents died, I stood upon the shore of the lake in the middle of the night. I had not done enough for them. My own daughter was dead. The protections had still failed. In my grief, I walked into the marshy part of lake, intending to end my pain in this world but sense returned to me. Instead, I shot myself into the sky and flew to Stare Mesto to visit my friend. I was surprised to run into Merek again. I did not trust him; he still held onto my betrayal of leaving him the first time. I was worried about what he would do, so I treated him as a friend. We began drinking but he must have put something in my cup. I don't remember anything but I must have started to talk too much. I woke up, having passed out, and he was looking very smug. He began to talk about how excited he was to see my village himself and to see my little Luitgard again. I was terrified. He had no idea where the village was and needed me to take him. I refused. We fought and I fled. I did not trust even the Goddess' protections against a determined Merek. I also felt too much shame for endangering everyone with my stupidity. I fled to Frankfurt upon Oder where I have been living ever since."

Sieglinde felt sick to her stomach. Not only was Luitgard likely dead. This Merek seemed determined to destroy anything to do with Lord Mintharch.

"It looks like your old friend will get his wish," she said. "Within days, one way or another, we will be forced to fight."

Lord Mintharch nodded. "I know," he said. "But luckily I have arrived in time."

"Do you honestly believe the Goddess gave you wings?" she asked with a scoff.

He chuckled. "Yes," he said, "She did." He ignored her surprise as he continued, "They cannot help us now but I have another way. It is another piece of information I had one day hoped to share with Luitgard. There is a passage that leads from the Great Hall to the dying shack. We can get everyone through it and escape. We might be able to find somewhere else to start a new life."

Sieglinde's legs weakened. He was offering her exactly what she had told herself she wanted but strangely felt paralyzed by the news. She now knew what the hole in the dying shack really was. She had forgotten it entirely when the first fire had appeared in the woods the night the skies cleared. So many other things had seemed more important. Yet knowing what opportunity it gave them, she felt no better. Anyone with sense would have welcomed his announcement. He would be their saviour. They would live. They would carry on. Despite all those hopes, her heart could not stir to joy.

"No," she said. "This is our home."

Lord Mintharch was taken aback. "This is a bunch of wood piled on a patch of dirt," he said. "This peninsula doesn't matter if you are all alive."

"We are not all alive," she said. "We have already lost many. Adalbern was one of the first. I know you would remember him. His head was shot over that wall."

"And hopefully there will be no more of you to join him in death," he said.

"But where will we live?"

He scoffed with the same flick of his eyes that she had seen when Luitgard would scold her for being too soft. Much had changed since those times. "You can live anywhere," he said. "Those who founded this village wandered for months before we settled here. We nearly starved to death the first winter. But we stopped here because we felt that here we were safe. That has changed. There is no reason to stay."

"Aye, there is," she said. "My grandmother was born here. My mother was born here. I was born here. There is only one of us left alive aside from you who knows of any life beyond the limits of the barrier charms. You are asking us to leave all of our memories behind without a fight?"

"If it means you will live, then of course I do," he yelled. "Have you lost your sense. You would risk the lives of the children of this village for nostalgia?"

"No," she shouted back. "It is to end it here! What happens when they find us again? They found us once. Even if we survive the search for a new home, there is no reason to believe they will not find us again."

"And there is no reason to believe they will leave you alone even if you win. They know you are here now. If they do not kill you all this time, they will simply send more. They show no mercy to Cathars."

"But we are not Cathars," she said.

"That is what they have been told you are and it makes little difference now."

"And what happens when we leave?" She asked. "We are something to everyone. To the Christians we are Cathars. To the Norse we are Christians. Leaving does not land us anywhere safer than here. The wall still stands. Their weapons cannot damage it."

He nodded. "And they never would," he said. "I plucked my first scale and many more to make that wall. With the stone combined with dragon scales, it is indestructible. Putting that wall there was the only way the others felt safe enough to stop here. But there are other ways the soldiers can get into the village. They will not give up. They will find a way. You must leave."

"And we will find a way too," she shot back. "We have found special points. They are sharper than anything you have ever seen. They do not break. We can defeat them. I cannot take the advice of a delusional old man."

His eyes closed. "Many have thought the power of dragon scales the answer to their problems," he said. "I thought so too once. But they are no more a protection than one's wits. There are siege engines more powerful than an onager and even a dragon could not stop an army. If they fail now, they will send hundreds more men with more siege weapons. They will keep coming until you fail."

She took a deep breath. She thought of the dead she had seen. Unbidden, Felix's felled form was brought before her eyes. "I can't give up," she whispered, "But the children ... "

"Yes," he said, "We can get them out of the village today. Arnold is waiting with his cart on a road about an hour's walk north of the dying shack."

Her body shivered as she tried to keep her breathing steady. "They will need someone to care for them," she said. "Where will Arnold take them?"

"Frankfurt upon Oder."

"Some will need to stay and fight," she stressed.

"Why do you insist on sacrificing more people?" His voice shot up to yelling again. "Do you enjoy watching people die?"

"How dare you of all people say that to me! I have been here every day doing my best to help these people. I have never hurt any of them. I don't share your past, Lord Mintharch."

A shadow fell over his eyes. "What you have seen is nothing compared to what haunts my dreams. Don't you dare pretend to have the authority to lecture me. If I left this room right now, those people would flock to me and do whatever I asked of them. I can just tell them the truth about the passage and they will leave."

His delusions were even more apparent. They fed her determination. She said, "Those people are my family. I have never betrayed them. I have never walked out on them. You may be comfortable with running but it is not something I have ever had to do. None of those people have ever had to do that. You underestimate them."

"Then we should let them decide," he said with a reined in tone.

"Fine."

Within the half hour, the villagers were gathered in the hall. Oda's eyes were the widest of all and she could not look away from Lord Mintharch who stood confidently before what had once been Luitgard's chair.

The air within the hall was stale. The day had warmed considerably and the air had ceased moving. Even the central fire shot up straight with no wind to buffet it.

"My heart has ached these many years that I have been separated from you," Lord Mintharch began, "But I have returned to help you in these threatening times. There is a way out of the village and to safety."

The silence of the hall was broken by whispers at this declaration.

"There is a passage that leads from this spot to the dying shack on the other side of the lake. We can have you all to safety before nightfall."

Sieglinde stepped forward. "We will be sending the children. Their parents may join them. Jessica and Heidi will be sent to take care of the others." She took a deep breath before giving her next appeal. "But I am not willing to give up our home so easily. I refuse to run. I refuse to give up to the likes of them. The men on the other side of that wall care nothing for us. They care nothing even for their own. They are willing to take our children from us. They are willing to watch us burn. They worship a god that loves them for the deaths they cause and showers them with gold and land for their efforts. If we run, the only places out there we will find ourselves are the homes of their kind. The only place free of such selfishness is here.

"I do not believe in their god. I am not willing to let them kill us all and be rewarded. No matter how long it takes, I will stand against them. If the Goddess has forsaken us, please do not lose hope because I have not forsaken you. I will never leave you. I will watch over you and do my best to guide us to safety. I will fight to my last breath to save everything that we have worked to create. Something I hope each of you will do for each other.

"If they come back and if that wall is breached, I hope there are those of you who will stand with me and kill any man who tries to come into our village. If you wish to flee with the children, I will not stop you but I will not respect you. If you are truly my family, you love our home as much as I do. If you love it as much as I do, you will stay and fight.

"Those of us honourable enough to stay will cut them down with as little mercy as they have shown us and any of their ranks who is not killed will be fleeing in terror to tell his god of the Mintharch Monsters. There will be legends of the ghosts in these lands that strike such fear, none will ever enter these woods again. It is time we stopped hiding. It is time we were seen!"

The remaining sentries gave a guttural cheer at her words. She had known they would stand by her. Humbert's sense of duty had been their example. Her eyes fell upon him. His arms were crossed against his chest as he stood in the back of the crowd and watched her. His eyes were vibrant.

She expected Lord Mintharch to rebut her speech and tell the people the same things he had told her. She expected him to speak of the value of life and the chance they were offered by starting elsewhere, but he had fallen silent. He too was watching her.

After several more moments, when the hall had begun to quiet once more, he announced, "The children and those going with them will leave tonight after the sun sets. Once through the passage, they must walk to the North until they come to a road. A dear friend will be waiting with a cart to take them to safety. If you intend to leave, fetch your belongings and make your arrangements."

The crowd dispersed. Aside from the sentries, the villagers had been stunned at this news. Her heart and stomach sank. Lord Mintharch was right. They would leave her and join him. Only those trained for this moment would stay.

Lord Mintharch turned and looked at the chair with the wyvern carved into the back of it. With both hands, he grabbed it and tossed it aside before kneeling upon the stones. He began to pick at the edge of one of the largest stones in the floor. After a moment, he became frustrated. "I need a pry bar," he said.

Sieglinde shouted out a request for a pry bar. Within minutes, Humbert was handing the metal rod to Lord Mintharch who jammed it into a gap between the stones and tried to pull the largest stone loose. "I need more help," he grunted. "I've lost the strength in my arms to do this."

Humbert was immediately at his side trying to help lift the stone. Within moments, the sentries had joined them and the stone was being lifted out of its place and set aside. Only a black hole remained.

"I never wanted to leave anything to chance," Lord Mintharch said. "It is quite far down. We will need a ladder for this end and one for the other."

"There is already one at the other," she explained. "We found the hole when the stone slab cracked and we tried to replace it. We never got a chance to actually use it before the Christians showed up. We will just need one for this side."

Humbert nodded at her words. "We should have enough supplies to make one," he said before signalling to the sentries to follow him as they set off to do just that.

Sieglinde looked into the blackness. "How did you ever make this?" she asked, sounding like an awestruck child even to herself.

"It's easy work for dragon claws, my girl," he said.

When she asked what he meant, he simply smiled. She was not sure if all his talk of dragon scales and claws was his way of teasing her or if he really believed he was one. He seemed content to let her wonder.

That night Jessica and Heidi gathered the children. They were joined by Valeska, Sigi, and Eckart's mother Anika; Marieke and Marlene's mother Eva; Corbinians; and Falk. Sieglinde's heart warmed. Corbinians and Falk had not even wanted to leave the fight. They did so simply to aid the children's safe passage. Every other Mintharch decided to stay. Even Anselm chose to stay despite two of his children being amongst the evacuees. His daughter Dana, a Goddess Maid, also insisted upon doing her part. Sieglinde had tried to convince Anselm otherwise but he would not be swayed. He had lost two children−one unborn−and his wife already. He could not face his youngest children again if he fled a failure.

Anselm's face was dry but Sieglinde could see the moistness of his eyes as he held his Henrik and Frauke close. He whispered his wisdom into their ears. He made no promises about when he would see them next. He told them simply to be strong. The hall, full with villagers who had come to say good-bye, was silent as he said his farewells to his boys. All were watching them.

Corbinians was the first to climb down. He tapped on the ladder when he reached the bottom. The first of the children, no more than six years old, began their descent. Some of the children began to cry when they reached the bottom. The passage was too dark and they were frightened. When Jessica and Heidi joined them, Sieglinde could hear the gentle words of comfort they gave.

She waited by the hole even after they had gone, listening to the echoes of the children's cries. She had never wanted to do this to them but she could not let them die as Felix had.

Though she stood by her conviction and still disagreed with Lord Mintharch, his words had renewed her guilt. No matter what she decided she would always hate herself for it. She just hoped that by taking a stand, she would hate herself a little less.

The echoes of the children faded away. Sieglinde remained.

* * *

In the following days, the entire village spent their waking hours preparing. Lord Mintharch's return had rejuvenated their hope. They worked with enthusiasm and spoke of what they would cherish most when it was over. Lord Mintharch had honoured Sieglinde's place as their leader and stood by her as they oversaw the preparations. He made no indications to the others how he really felt and what he had really wanted to do.

She watched and prayed that the people did not secretly hate her as they did their best to hoist the manor's large cooking cauldrons onto the wall in the middle of the night. She reminded herself in a repetitive mantra that she had made the right decision.

On another day, Humbert and Lord Mintharch taught farmers, both men and women, how to use a sword. Through a belligerent rain, Sieglinde helped the women harvest the barely grown herbs required for poultices. Even with mud up to their thighs, the women did not complain. Their repeated glances in Lord Mintharch's direction told her why.

One morning, before the mist had lifted, she was awoken by a loud crack and creak of a tree being felled. She jumped up and ran down to the wall. Humbert was already there when she reached the top.

Along the same swath the enemy had cleared for the onager, trees closer to the wall were being felled. The top of the onager was no longer visible but the sounds of hammering prevented that fact from being reassuring.

Lord Mintharch joined them. "They have learned attacking the wall is pointless," he said. "They are readying for a new tactic."

"How much time?" Sieglinde asked.

"A day," he said. "I have seen this before."

They had been preparing for a battle. She hoped they were ready because the day had now been set. She swallowed hard and climbed down from the wall as the reality of the situation hit. For a brief second she faltered and wondered if Lord Mintharch was right and they should flee. As she walked back to the manor, her eyes fell upon the storehouse.

It had become a daily ritual to check the latest activity of the rodents and she found she needed it very much at that moment. It kept her determination strong. The invaded Christians were no different than the rats and they would never have left the village just because of some pests.

She would never be the same no matter the outcome. She had believed they lived in a sanctuary, free from harm, protected completely. No such place existed unless it was claimed.

"The rats will not leave and the food will never become fit to eat," Humbert said quietly from the doorway.

She nodded but did not turn to face him. "I know," she said. "I don't hope anymore."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"You leave tonight," she said. She kept her eyes upon a spot on the wall.

"Excuse me?"

"We are likely outnumbered, outarmed, and outtrained in real battle" she said. "I need you and a team of others to take out as many as you can in the night so that our odds are improved come the attack in the morning. If you can take out whatever siege engine they are building, all the better."

"I thought you were opposed to that idea with so many of them out there?"

She nodded again. "Aye," she said. "I thought it would be a suicide mission."

"What makes you think we will live now?"

Her jaw clenched. The air in the storehouse was too stale. It was giving her a headache. "Nothing," she said.

She could feel him stepping closer to her. His fingers upon her arm were so light even as he turned her to face him. She could not. His chest, even the ground between their feet, seemed better than the sight of his eyes.

"I will get a team together immediately," he whispered.

She wanted him to fight her. She wanted him to have a tantrum and be the young man he was. She wanted for once for him to be selfish and want to live, but his youth made him too idealistic and noble. Her lashes lowered. She could not ask him to deny his honour. His one moment of selfishness still tore at him and haunted him. He was just like her. He could not live with himself if he cowered again. She opened her eyes and traced her finger over his tunic where she knew it covered his nearly healed wound.

"I love you," she said.

He pulled her into him. She would miss the warmth of his arms around her. She sunk into him and focused upon each tingle within her that his touch caused. If she lived, she at least wanted his memory to stay with her into old age, though truly she hoped they would die together.

"You are my Goddess," Humbert said. "I am protected because of you."

The dampness of her eyes threatened to become a flood. She could not speak. The emotion pulled a tremble through her body. His arms tightened around her.

"Find someone who will care for you," he said. "Have the children we would have had. I will be smiling upon you from Heaven and waiting for you to join me."

## Chapter 33

Justin and Luitgard arrived at the seven hills at midday and the height of the heat. The only clue Luitgard had where Dragonfather might be was the angel. She could not remember where it was but Justin suggested that Merek's involvement with the Church and the angel itself indicated the Basilica was the closest they would get to a clue.

The area of town that held St. Peter's was called The Borgo. They quickly learned just how many saw it as a destination for pilgrimage and how many inn keepers took advantage of that fact. After enduring a heated argument in the piazza in which two inn keeper's began to beat each other up to win their business, a third quietly offered them lodgings without fuss. As he led them away, the first two were in the process of trying to throw each other by their tunics. Luitgard had trouble looking away.

"Though the city seems busy, there have not been as many customers since the Pope left Rome," the inn keeper said as they walked up to a well-kept building coated in plaster. There were too large men armed with swords standing on either side of the entrance. Luitgard avoided eye contact as they walked inside.

"It has made those of us who depend upon the travellers very competitive," the inn keeper added as he closed the door behind them.

The main room was remarkable only because it was so clean. The plastered walls were clear of any dirt or damage beyond minor imperfections. The stone floor had been recently swept. Even the sunlight that lit the room through two narrow windows seemed more welcoming than it had outside. Though there was a small table and two chairs beneath the windows, the room was otherwise unfurnished. Across from the front door, stairs led to the second level and−Luitgard assumed−to the rooms. A hallway led down the side of the building but she had no idea where it went.

"Do fights like that break out often?" Luitgard asked as she returned her focus to their conversation.

He nodded. "Almost daily," he said with a sparkle in his eye. He leaned closer to her and whispered, "Though you are lucky that is as far as it has gotten this time. Some have been known to steal clients through violent means."

"Are we in danger in your inn?" Justin asked. There was no apology in his tone and no patience for the playful banter that the inn keeper seemed to want.

The inn keeper waved a dismissive hand. "That is what I pay those men for," he said as he nodded in the direction of the entrance. "With my competitors, you might as well be trying to camp in _disabitato_ , a lawless and diseased part of the city. You would only go there if you want to die. Having the extra precautions may increase the costs of business but it also increases my business." He smiled. "For a little extra, I can provide a midday meal."

Justin did not argue and pulled out a gold coin. The man took it, examined it, and nodded in thanks. "You came through Florence," he noted.

"Yes, we did," Justin said. "Is there something extraordinary about that?"

The man shook his head. "Not in Rome. Not in The Borgo," he replied as he pocketed the coin. "You may settle your things upstairs then join me in the garden for your meal." He nodded good-bye before walking down the hallway.

They climbed the stairs to their room. It was much cleaner than the inn where they had stayed in Florence. The wooden floors had been swept, the bed was larger and neatly made, the chamber pot was hidden within a cupboard, and there was even a large chest in which another blanket had been placed.

Luitgard pushed open the shutters to let in the air. The sound of shouting below made her lean over the edge of the sill and look down. One of the fighting inn keepers, a short and rotund man, was yelling in the face of one of the hired men.

"I demand Cornelius come out here and face me!" he screamed so loud that his face was turning a dark reddish-purple. "He has stolen what was rightfully mine!"

The man to whom he had been yelling either had had enough or simply felt it was time to do his job. Using the hilt of his sword, he hit the inn keeper hard in the gut. The man crumpled to his knees where he coughed and choked into the ground.

"Bastard," the inn keeper seethed when he had regained enough breath.

The hired man did not speak but brought a well-placed kick up into the man's ribs. The inn keeper fell to his side and continued to wheeze.

Justin put his hands on Luitgard's shoulders. "Don't watch this," he said. "It will only torture your dreams, which I think torture you enough as it is."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "How did you know about my dreams?" she asked.

"You are a fitful sleeper," he said. "Putting too much on yourself, I suspect."

She looked back through the window and watched as the injured inn keeper stumbled away into the heart of the crowds of the piazza.

"Perhaps I am not being hard enough on myself," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "When will you realize that you are not deserving of all this punishment?"

She wiped her cheek. "I wish I could say I felt that way," she said. "But until we find Dragonfather, I will never be able to forgive myself."

There was a pause. "For what has happened to your home?" he asked.

She nodded. "I abandoned them. I chose one man over an entire people, one that was under my protection and was my responsibility. I was so foolish before we left to think I could have it all; save Dragonfather and return to a peaceful home. It is obvious that was never possible and the lives of the Mintharchs is upon my head." She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. "Saving Dragonfather is the only redemption I have left."

Justin said nothing. Luitgard knew how he felt about the matter. He did not agree with her. He wanted them to leave. Any direction away from Merek would do. She also knew he doubted they would ever find Dragonfather or, if they did, that they could escape with him alive. She accepted his silence. It was far easier to accept than his voice destroying any illusion of his support she could muster.

She pulled away and walked to the bowl of water. She washed the dirt of the road from her face and gave a quick wiping of her skirts, though it made little difference. The un-dyed fabric was a cruel reminder of what she had lost. She forced her grief from her mind as she watched Justin take his turn cleaning his face and hands.

When they were as refreshed as they could be, they headed down for lunch. The downstairs hall led past two closed doors and straight into the garden.

The garden was enclosed by the high walls of adjacent buildings which protected it from the streets and shaded it from the sun. It was not as hot as it had been on the road or in the rest of the city.

Cornelius was sitting at a wooden table that was only a few feet away from a small fountain. He waved them over and gestured at the grapes, wine, and bread that were on the table.

They sat down and Luitgard took a deep breath. She found her body relaxing of its own volition. Her eyes closed and the trickling of the fountain massaged her nerves.

"My wife is almost finished making a delicious fish soup," Cornelius said.

Luitgard opened her eyes and looked over the already provided fare, feeling that it was plenty.

"Are we the only guests?" Justin asked.

The man shrugged. "For today. I am sure there will be plenty more to have tomorrow."

Luitgard admired his optimism after what he had said of the lack of customers. She wished she could remain that hopeful.

Justin was examining the garden, and even the walls of the buildings that reached up around them. What did he think; that Merek was going to jump over them and kill them right there?

"You have a lovely inn," Justin said, his eyes falling upon the fountain.

"We do our best to keep it that way," Cornelius said. "It ensures a better clientele and a more refined life for me."

"And enough money to give a little charity to some peasants every now and again," Justin said.

Luitgard nearly gasped at Justin's insulting tone. Did he want them to be kicked out?

Cornelius simply laughed as he poured himself some wine. "Peasants? Maybe," he said, "But your purse is heavy enough. Why do you think that fight started over you? Those of us who require the payment of others have become very good at judging a man by the sag in his purse. The bulge in your surcoat was obvious"

He poured more wine into another cup and handed it to Luitgard, and then another to Justin. "Perhaps you two think your chances of getting into heaven are better if God thinks you are peasants during your pilgrimage. I don't know. That seems an awful lot of trouble when he lets in half the clergy who are far worse than most of the nobles out there. But you are paying me so it is not mine to judge."

Cornelius' wife came out of the inn carrying several wooden bowls and spoons. She set them down on the table and left before Luitgard could greet her.

"She hates strangers," Cornelius said upon seeing Luitgard's surprise. "She lets the stories of what goes on at the other inns get into her head and is convinced it will happen here. I keep telling her that is why we pay for all of this," he gestured to the garden with a sweep of his arm. "But she's not convinced."

When the woman returned with a pot of fish soup that she ladled into the bowls, Luitgard respected her silence. She could understand the distrust of strangers, especially those who show up within the walls of your sanctuary.

When they finished eating, Luitgard and Justin became overpowered by their exhaustion. They thanked Cornelius and left the garden. Though he had offered them luxurious accommodations for the night and he had been pleasant enough, Luitgard did not like him. Justin had stopped saying much to the man and instead listened with an impassive expression. The memories of their first meeting came back to her.

Justin opened the door to their room and Luitgard was surprised to hear him speaking to someone.

"I did not mean to startle you," he said.

Luitgard walked around him to see Cornelius' wife setting a pot of flowers on the window sill.

"So sorry," she muttered as she tried to hurry from the room.

Luitgard thanked her and let her leave. She walked up to the flowers. They were a brilliant purple with petals that came to a point. Luitgard had never before seen such flowers. And secured in the middle was a thin stone that looked almost like an arrowhead except that it was brilliant white and sparkled in the sunlight.

## Chapter 34

That night, Sieglinde stood outside the gatehouse next to Lord Mintharch as they watched the group of eight men ready their weapons for the raid. Her stomach twisted with guilt over their loss.

Josef had insisted upon being part of the team. He had been the husband of Petra and the father of Adelina. He had little left to care about and seemed to take some comfort in knowing he would help the others avoid the same fate. Dietfried was accompanied on this mission by his brother Harmut and his two sons Burkhard and Dieter. Lord Mintharch stepped around Dominik and helped Florian adjust the belt of his sword.

When he returned to Sieglinde's side, he shot her a glance no one else had seen. He still did not approve but she would not be swayed. She kept her eyes on the men. They readied themselves with honour and without complaint or any show of fear. They had said good-bye to their families but their silence and dry faces belied this deep knowledge.

She wished she had married Humbert. She wished she had had more nights snuggled into his side and giggling as he trailed a finger over her side. She wished she could have one day when the two of them could be together without the worry of attack. There had not been enough time to steal such care-free moments with him. There had been only that one night weeks ago. From the moment the decision had been made to attack, the work had been steady. She had never had a chance to take any more. Even as the others had a last meal with their wives and their children, Humbert, Sieglinde, and Lord Mintharch went over the final preparations.

With a sword and dagger on his hips and arrows on his back, Humbert secured his bow around his body. He looked up at Sieglinde and smiled. He walked up to her, took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes.

"Tomorrow night, we will feast as I make you my wife even without another High Priestess to perform the rite," he said.

She stifled a chuckle as her cheeks became hot and wet.

He leaned close and kissed her. It was not the deep and passionate kiss of their stolen moments but it lingered pleasantly, though not long enough. He pulled away and his face sobered.

"Good-bye, my Goddess," he said.

"Good-bye, my love," she replied in a whisper as he turned to join the men.

Humbert signaled them to follow him as they climbed to the battlements. There, they would slide down a rope that had been shot into the ground on the opposite side of the dry moat.

Sieglinde followed the last man up. Lord Mintharch ascended behind her. She had not planned to follow, but now she realized how much she needed that last memory of Humbert. She reached the top of the wall and looked into the darkness. Her shoulders fell as she watched the last man stumble at the end of the rope, cut it lose, and rush into the trees. The others were already gone.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You think I am a horrible person for this, don't you?" she asked.

Lord Mintharch shook his head. "I have no right to judge you. You do what you think is right for the people. I may not agree but doing what is right for others is something I have failed at with every attempt."

"Everything you did was to protect us," Sieglinde said as she tried to ignore a shiver. "How can you say that you failed? Nothing went wrong until Luitgard left."

For many moments, he said nothing. Finally, he said, "Do not judge Luitgard too harshly. She did not have the information others held." He turned and climbed down the ladder.

## Chapter 35

A chill tickled Luitgard's arm and she pressed herself more firmly into Justin's side to gain his warmth.

"It is almost time."

The hot breath that carried Merek's words spread over her ear. She tried to jump up but he was already holding her in place. She could feel Justin's body jolt against her and heard his sharp intake of breath but he too remained where he was.

"Finally decided to kill us," Justin seethed through a tight jaw.

"Your lover is so rude," Merek whispered in her ear. "Even the point of my blade at his throat does not bring him manners."

"What do you want?" she asked, trying not to give him the satisfaction of shaking beneath his touch.

"I am hoping to give the Goddess what I know she wants and take from Kilchain the last thing that ever mattered to him," he said.

Grabbing her by the arm, he jerked her onto her feet and used the momentum to throw her against something large. She looked up to see the face of one of the hired men looking down at her. She tried to back away but he had already grabbed her arms. She tried to pull and kick but this only caused him to pick her up and throw her onto his shoulder. When she had recovered from the winding his shoulder had caused, she renewed her attempts to hit and kick. He held her ankles together tightly and seemed unfazed by the blows with her fists. Beneath her hands his skin felt like one hardened mass of muscle and scars. She tried to push off his shoulder and then pull herself in the other direction. Neither worked. Finally, she forced all her weight sideways. While it caught him off guard and forced him to regain his balance after a small stumble, he held strong.

"Enough!" Merek called. "If you do not calm yourself, little pagan, I will gut Justin right here."

"You will not do that," she said over her shoulder. "He has the blood of the dragon too. Wherever you are taking me, you surely intend to take him."

Merek chuckled. "There may be some brains in that head of yours," he said, "But we are not far from where I plan to take you and I am sure his blood won't cool by then."

She stopped her attempts at punching the side of the guard's head. She might as well have been stroking him lovingly for all the good it had been doing anyway. She decided to cooperate, hoping to find a better opportunity for escape in the streets.

"The same threat works for her, Justin," Merek said.

After a pause, he walked around the man holding Luitgard and to the window sill. The pot of flowers still sat where Cornelius' wife had left it. He plucked out the white point.

"Time to have this back," he said as he tucked it into a pocket inside his sleeve. "It is also time we left."

The guard carried Luitgard from the room while Merek, pushing Justin in front of him, followed. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they stopped. Luitgard could not see why but the reason was made obvious when Merek pulled out a full purse and said, "The rest of what I owe you, Cornelius. I suspect this will be the last time I require your help."

Cornelius walked up, took the purse, and thanked him. "Your business is always welcome if you change your mind," he said.

As they left the inn, the other guard remained still at his post, his eyes focused ahead of him.

Luitgard's ribs ached with each jolting step of the guard. She tried to look into Justin's eyes, hoping to be given some indication that he had a plan, but she could not make them out in the darkness. Merek's smugness beamed. She could not take it anymore.

"What have you done with my grandfather?" she demanded.

Merek laughed. "Absolutely nothing ... yet."

"You have been torturing him. I know you have. You put his hair in my bag!"

"So desperate to believe I have him," he said. "I cut that hair from him eleven years ago in Stare Mesto. I hoped it would summon the Goddess but it proved useless until I slipped it into your saddlebag."

"You lie! I've heard you torturing him in my dreams!"

"A dream I too have had for many years," he said, "But not one I have achieved. Tonight, with the help of the Goddess, that will change."

The night was chilly but that was not what made her blood go cold. "What do you mean? She protected the Mintharchs ... " The words of her dream came back to her. She corrected herself. "She protects me."

Merek shrugged. "I suspect the Goddess has become tired of you," he said. "Why else would she have lured you back here. There is only one reason she would do that and that is to ensure your death."

"You are insane," she spat.

"Simply better informed than you are," he said. "At the angel, you shall know the truth."

Her rage fed her heartbeat and the speed of her breathing. Her sternum began to ache in concert with her ribs. She had been betrayed by even the Goddess, not just abandoned but treated as a toy.

She screamed and in her fury dug her fingernails into the neck of the guard just below his ear. The sharp pains of her cuts caught his attention in a way her blows had not. He began to crumple. She was aware of some form of struggle between Justin and Merek even as the guard lost his grip. She threw her weight sideways and rolled onto the ground.

As she tried to stand, she saw that the reason the guard had fallen was not due to her scratches. Merek had attempted to run Justin through but Justin had been prepared. He had dodged and used Merek's momentum to guide his weapon into the guard's back.

She was at her feet as Merek tried to pull it out. But Justin was already at her side and the two of them ran. They twisted and turned down as many convoluted streets as they could, hoping to avoid Merek trailing them. Their footsteps echoed off so many buildings that they began to think Merek had sent an army after them. They kept running. They ran until they were near the city gates.

They stopped and panted in a darkened alley. The echoes faded but their heightened senses pricked at every new sound. Their breaths caught as they heard heavy footsteps. Their blood flow ceased momentarily, causing painful tingling in their limbs. An unknown man walked by, unaware or seemingly unconcerned with their presence.

Luitgard's body collapsed against the wall as her panting resumed.

"We can't get out of the city until morning," Justin said between gasps for air.

"We cannot get the horses," she added. "Merek will be waiting with more help."

Her breath finally began to catch up with her and slow, but the roof of her mouth constricted, causing a twinge of pain to climb to her eyes where it plucked tears from her.

"I am so sorry," she whispered as she failed to hold back the flow. "I was so convinced Dragonfather was here. I was so convinced he needed my help." She gave up trying and let the tears go. "Every night, Justin. Every single night, I have listened to his screams as they tortured him. I saw my home burning with no survivors amongst the rubble. Every night I saw and heard these things. And then the Goddess began to talk to me in those dreams. She would tell me there was no hope. She would tell me everyone was dead. She would tell me truth was to be found in Rome and the last life to be saved was here. She lied about all of it to bring us here, to walk willingly into her trap. I am so sorry!"

He put his arm around her shoulders. They both slid down the wall to sit on the ground. "I think I will cherish my own God's silence now," he chuckled. When she did not respond to his attempt at humour, he said, "You couldn't have known. Being tormented like that night after night ... she probably did it to make sure you kept going."

She nodded. "And like a fool, I did exactly as they both wanted. They never had Dragonfather. He probably really is dead. He probably died years ago."

"You don't know that. He could be alive. It sounded like Merek is trying to lure him out too. He could be anywhere."

She gave a great sniffle. "Not anywhere," she said. "He is not here."

Justin rested his head against hers. "True, but there is something else this all could mean."

"What?"

"That the Mintharchs are alive," he explained.

She looked into his eyes. "You are not just holding onto hope to stay alive?" She asked. "You really think so?"

"Yes," he said, "I really do."

She rested her head on his shoulder. Could they still have a chance to return to her home? They were horseless and without a single coin now. Her dagger, her comb, their money were all still at the inn, but there was hope. Even if it took the next year to walk back, they could get there so long as they managed to evade Merek. She closed her eyes and comforted herself with the thought of Sieglinde's face when she returned home with all the stories of their adventures.

## Chapter 36

The black sky began to show spots of blue and grey, Sieglinde shivered and wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself. She had tried to sleep but even when her body surrendered, the nightmares proved worse torture than exhaustion. The night had seemed to drag on for years. She had lost track of how many times she had woken up but she had not lost track of every gory detail of those nightmares. She finally gave up and left her bed for the comfort of the wall. At least sitting upon the stones, peering over the edge every few minutes, she felt like she was doing something. The trees the enemy had felled the day before, had made it easier to see the new siege weapon they had been building in its place. Lord Mintharch was right. That morning there would be a battle.

Humbert and the others had not returned. Though she had not expected them to, she had hoped they would. She had hoped for a miracle, for them to return triumphant, the battle having easily been won. As the sky lightened, she knew her more pragmatic thoughts of the day before had been correct. She would never see Humbert again.

The first hint of gold mixed with the sky along the horizon. The sun would be rising soon, and it would be time for war. She would never recover from Humbert's loss but she had no time for grief. She stood and looked over the remnants of the village. She still had a people to save.

The sparking of flint caught her attention. The sentries were already lighting the fires for the cauldrons. It was time. She made her way to the ladder.

When she reached the bottom of the tower, the men were already gathering. Half would stay behind to protect the wall and the people. Half would make their way through the woods to do their best against the forces. If there was one advantage they had in the offensive, it was that her people were used to moving through those woods.

As she saw the men readying their weapons, the women came to see them off. Lord Mintharch stood watching her, his arms across his chest.

She was sure they did not have long before the first archers arrived at the forest edge, but she could not send her people to death without them knowing what it meant to her.

She stood in front of the portcullis and waited. It was only moments before the first of the men were ready for their battle and had realized where she stood. As more of the people noticed her, the noises of leather, metal, and worry faded away.

She swallowed.

"It has been weeks that we have been under threat and have endured seeing our home systematically and slowly burned. We have watched those we love succumb to injuries both great and small. From the old stories, I know there have never been so few Mintharchs in almost the entire 50 years we have been here."

"And through it all, I have never been more proud to be a part of this family. Without complaint, you each have fought every single day to ensure you have done your part. As our stomachs growled their anger, not a single person asked me for more. As we broke our backs trying to build and rebuild, to temper, and to harvest, not a single person has asked me for sympathy or leave of it. We have worked together and survived this long as one.

"When that barrier fell, I am sure we all began to wonder what was happening. Many of us have questioned if the Goddess has forsaken us. I do not know. What I do know is that we have done nothing worthy of such punishment. If she has forsaken us, I will never beg for such a person's forgiveness. None of you need ask anyone for forgiveness!"

She looked at Oda. "There are those of you who may remember life before this place. But most of us do not. Most of us were born here and have known nothing else. For most of us, there is nothing beyond that wall, beyond those trees, or beyond those fields. That is where the world ends for us.

"As we all fight for our world, I want you to know of how proud I am, of how much I love you all, and of how much we all have to live for. For us, this fight is not about gold or favour. This is about those of us who wish to be good fighting against those who have proven to be evil. We will prove something to the evil, outside that wall today. This may be where the world starts for us but it will be where the world ends for them!"

The gathered burst into cheers of pride. Those with weapons brandished them to the sky. Those without hugged each other, but they were smiling. That glimpse of hope, even if it only lasted a moment, cradled Sieglinde's heart. Lord Mintharch nodded to her.

She did not wait for the joy to fade. She used it. She ran back to the ladder in the gatehouse and climbed to the top of the wall. Several additional archers climbed quickly behind her. At the top, they lined the walls and readied their bows.

Sieglinde's breath echoed in her ears with her heartbeat. There would be no time to grieve Humbert. She wondered if she even needed to, for at that moment, she knew would be joining him.

She bellowed the order and the first volley of arrows from her men flew into the trees. The loud cracks and creeks of the lowering drawbridge was the only noise to drown out the sound. The second volley was already being shot as the men emerged from the gate. They quickly formed a line parallel to the edge of the forest before pushing through the trees.

She gave the signal for the archers to hold. Their role was finished until the threat came to the walls.

The creeks of the drawbridge repeated as it closed. Then the terrified and gurgling cries of men escaped the foliage. Her chest constricted as she could not tell if the sounds of the dying were her own men. The trees were too thick and too dark. The sun was only now breaking the horizon and if she could see anyone, it was a featureless silhouette. But she had to trust in them.

When she heard a man screaming for god, she breathed again.

A Christian soldier stumbled out of the trees, holding his side. He was disoriented and from the red flow down his body, she was sure he likely could not see straight.

"We do not need any of them being rescued only to come back for revenge," she said to the archer next to her. He nodded and took aim. The arrow sunk cleanly into the man's eye socket and his body crumpled to the ground.

Two more men emerged from the trees, this time they were her own. One man was trying to drag another back to the gate. Both were severely wounded or, at least, covered in fresh blood.

Sieglinde ordered the drawbridge open before instructing the archers to kill any of the enemy that emerged from the trees. She hurried down the ladder and at the gate, helped pull the two inside. It was Guntram pulling Benno.

"I am so sorry," Guntram said. "I got careless trying to save this one."

"That's alright," she reassured as she checked the deep cut on the other man's shoulder. She could see the bone, moist and white.

"We have a chance," Guntram said. "They don't seem to know how to fight in the trees. We were separating them easily."

She thanked him. "At least there is some hope in all of this," she said. "How were the others doing?"

"Josef and Florian were cut down very quickly, surprised by two men hiding behind a shrub, but the others were doing fine last I saw."

She nodded, trying not to get too excited by the positive news.

Gerhild and Hiltraud arrived and were already making their own examinations of the wounds. Sieglinde took that opportunity to return to the wall.

She had barely extricated herself from the ladder opening when she looked at the nearest archer and asked, "Has anything happened?"

He nodded to the distance. "Aye," he said. "It has."

She looked over the wall. More trees had been felled along the same path the onager had been placed but the onager was no longer there. It was now a large trebuchet. Through the thinned trees, she could see the soldiers loading it but not what they were using. She clutched the stone of the battlements. The wall would hold. Lord Mintharch had said it could not fall.

There was the flickering of flame. A creak and a bang echoed through the air as the long arm of the trebuchet swung around and flung fire at them. Sieglinde fell to her feet to hide behind the battlements but the motion proved unnecessary as the flaming ball soared over her head. Though the flaming mass landed between two buildings and did not cause any damage, her heart refused to slow. She doubted the next shot would miss.

## Chapter 37

Luitgard and Justin waited for the gates to open. After the incident with the inn keeper, they knew they could trust no one. They dared not even beg for food. Their only goal was escaping Rome. They would figure out survival on the road.

They looked at the guards manning the gate. None of them were familiar. They hoped that the guards felt the same about them. Pedlars, soldiers, and pilgrims filtered through the opening in both directions. As the crowd thickened, Justin took Luitgard's hand in his. They made their move.

As calmly as they could, they walked with the crowds, hoping to blend in. At least they were dressed plainly enough and looked unkempt enough to be no one of consequence. Even the tell Cornelius had claimed about them was no longer present. Luitgard was sure that greedy man was enjoying the money that had been left behind.

They neared the gate. Several more steps and they would be at the guards.

A heavy arm fell onto Luitgard's shoulders. Merek pulled her against his side. She nearly choked as not just her blood but her saliva froze in place.

"You cannot hide from me," he said. "To many are willing to help me in this city."

He turned to three large men at his back. "Take the man," he said. "She will be walking with me."

Two of the men grabbed either side of Justin and lifted him off the ground. He was no willing prisoner but his attempts to fight or flail proved fruitless. One of the men punched him hard across the face to get him to settle down. It worked if only because it knocked him unconscious.

Merek held Luitgard tightly against him. A poke against her ribs told her he would kill her there in the street if she struggled.

"Now, my little pagan," he whispered in her ear. "We mustn't keep an angel waiting."

Merek kept their route to the narrow alleys and quieter streets. Those they came across pretended with a bit too much effort not to see them.

The route was unfamiliar, not that Luitgard would have had much reference. Their escape of the night before had been guided by desperation. In the darkness and making turns simply to change direction, she had no idea of the route they had taken. Now, she had no idea where they were headed or how close they were.

Long after Justin had regained consciousness and begun yelling curses at Merek's back, they arrived at a small chapel. On the side of the chapel was a cemetery overshadowed by thick trunked trees with dense and wide canopies. At the entrance stood a bronze statue of a tall angel, her palms out in welcome. It was the angel from Luitgard's childhood.

Merek stopped before it and looked up into its face. Then, he pulled his dagger away from Luitgard's ribs and held it close to her cheek. He pressed his face against her ear. His nose tickled her earlobe as he whispered. "I shall feast tonight, but for now I need only a drop," he said as he pulled the blade across her skin.

She yelped, which caused Justin to renew his struggling and cursing. She could feel the tickle of her blood seeping down her cheek.

"Calm, my son," Merek said as he let go of Luitgard. She had no chance to escape, the third brute was already holding her arms tightly behind her back.

Merek walked up to Justin, though not close enough to endure any of the kicks aimed at him. "Don't ever think I would leave you out of this," he said. "It is your turn now."

When Justin tried to kick once more, Merek grabbed him by the foot and pulled the dagger across Justin's ankle. Justin cried out. His hose and shoes were soaked with blood within a heartbeat. Merek had cut him much more deeply.

Unconcerned with Justin's pain and bleeding, Merek took the bloodied blade to the statue and pressed the blood to each of the angel's hands. He then took the small white triangle out of his sleeve and placed it in one of the palms.

"It is time Kilchain's deal was ended," he called out.

Luitgard's eyes went wide. In the middle of the cemetery now stood the Goddess of her dreams. Merek saw her too, as did Justin, whose eyes were nearly popping from his head.

Merek gestured for his hired men to follow as he entered the cemetery. As they neared the woman, Luitgard's nose filled with a sweet fragrance. Luitgard could see the wide eyes of the men that held Justin. They said nothing but she suspected they were reconsidering the fairness of their compensation.

"Where is Kilchain?" he asked.

The Goddess' face remained impassive as she looked over Luitgard and then Justin.

"Sending an army against his people has failed to draw him out as you hoped?" she asked but did not wait for an answer. "If you wished to find Kilchain, why have you summoned me?"

"I brought the last of his blood," Merek pressed. "I know you want them."

The Goddess returned her focus to Merek. "To give me what I want, it would help to know the actual terms of a deal," she said. "Justin means nothing to me."

Merek shifted weight. Luitgard had never seen him so unsure. "Then Luitgard then," he said. "You wanted her here and I made sure she got here."

" _I_ made sure she came here," the Goddess corrected. Just when Merek looked near to fleeing, she added, "But you do have something I require." She held out her hand. "The dagger."

It was only then that Luitgard realized the dagger Merek had been using was hers. He had held her so firmly at its tip, that she had not dared look down at it. Now that her attention was drawn to it, she could not believe she had not recognized the ornate dragon upon the white handle.

"You can have it," Merek said, "But I want more than you gave Kilchain."

"You seem to believe it wise to make demands of me," she said. "Your soul is worthless to me."

"If Kilchain can cause you this much trouble, then you better get used to bowing down to me," he shot back at her. Despite his bravado, Luitgard could see his hand trembling.

The Goddess was unmoved by the threat. "Are you sure you want the life of a dragon? Many who have asked for it did not like what it got them."

"Many are fools," Merek said. "I would become the ruler of the world with such power."

"And what do you ask that is more than I gave Kilchain?"

"Immortality," he said. "I want to live forever."

She held out her hand once more. "Very well," she said, "Give me the dagger and we will complete the ritual."

Merek turned to Luitgard. "I want to end Kilchain's _Filia Draconis_ first," he said. "I want Justin to watch as she dies. If I cannot have Kilchain witness what I am taking from him, then it must be Justin."

"You have already taken your revenge on Kilchain when you made sure an army was sent to burn them to the ground," the Goddess stressed. "The dagger."

After a hesitation, Merek turned to hand it to her. At that same moment, Justin had also managed to wrench himself free from the men holding him. They had been overwhelmed by the Goddess' presence. Their grip had been weak. But Justin's leg had been too badly wounded. When he fell from their arms, he did not land standing but fell to his knees.

Fire blazed in Merek's eyes as he lunged to pre-empt Justin's attack upon him. Luitgard tried to break free of the man holding her, but he had not been as easily lulled as the others. His grip held firm even as the two struggling men fell against them and knocked them off balance.

The Goddess simply watched.

Luitgard's captor regained himself before she did. All she could do was watch.

Justin had managed to grip the handle of the dagger with both hands and was trying to pull it away. Merek was pulling on it with equal force so that it remained above them. He smiled. He spit in Justin's face and took the moment of distraction to ram the blade deep into Justin's heart.

The summer heat dissipated as the life left Justin's eyes. The muscles in his face went limp, erasing any evidence of the struggle he had just been having. His hands fell to his sides. His body collapsed into Merek's.

Luitgard screamed. There would have been no hope even if she had attempted to stifle her sobs. She screamed and sobbed even as she tried to pull her arms from the grip of the man holding her.

Merek pulled the dagger free and stepped back, letting Justin's body hit the ground with all the respect of a felled tree.

"Bastard!" Luitgard screamed at him. "Bastard!"

The Goddess had not moved and appeared as unconcerned as when they had arrived. No one wept for the body upon the ground except Luitgard whose grief made up for all of them.

"The dagger," the Goddess said as she held out her hand for a third time. "My patience is near its end."

As Merek held out the weapon to her, Luitgard focused upon her, the mastermind of all her torment. "Whore!" she shrieked. "You are nothing but a selfish whore!"

Merek and the Goddess ignored her. The woman's fingers wrapped around the ornate blade.

"When do I become a dragon?" Merek demanded.

The Goddess looked at him. "You don't," she said as she rammed the blade into his chest. The last expression upon his face was of complete shock. "Greed overwhelmed your sense," she said as she watched him fall to the ground next to Justin.

That was the last straw for Luitgard's captor. He let go of her and ran from the cemetery. The two who had dragged Justin were close behind.

"You are the last little dragon," the Goddess said. "And with your death, I will finally be free."

## Chapter 38

As another flaming ball sailed overhead, men−both friend and foe−emerged from the trees, coughing. Sieglinde's archers took out the enemies and protected the Mintharchs who were trying to make it back to the gate.

Sieglinde turned and saw that the latest shot from the enemy's trebuchet had hit the smithy. It was now the third building nearly brought to rubble. It was also the closest yet to the manor. A line of people went from the lake to the first building that had caught fire; what had once been Adalbern's house. They passed along buckets of water. The buckets were too small to make a difference.

Anselm yelled to her, "There is no one else coming from the forest."

"Close the drawbridge," she yelled back before climbing down the ladder to check on the wounded in the manor.

The mothers and crones had already laid them out near the fire and were tending to them with bandages, poultices, and needles and thread. The groans of pain combined and echoed off the stone to make a morbid chorus.

As she looked at the face of each man, it was compared with a mental list of those who had gone out. Too few names were being checked off. If the others were dead, less than half had survived. It seemed no one had survived without wounds.

At the second last man, she stopped. The entire left side of his face and a good part of his shoulder was blistered with burns. Smatterings of blood covered the tattered remains of his clothes but he appeared to have no other wounds of his own. She focused upon the good side of his face, trying to ignore the disfigurement caused by the burns. When she realized who he was, she fell to her knees.

"Dietfried," she said. "Where is Humbert?"

His unburnt eye opened and he looked at her. His eye rolled around as if he were having trouble focusing. Another boom from another hit from the trebuchet echoed outside.

"Dietfried," she said quietly. "It is alright. You are home again."

He said, "They realized we weren't ghosts."

"What do you mean ghosts?"

"We managed to take out twenty of a hundred men," he groaned. "We split into pairs and hid in the shadows. We would pluck one at a time from their beds. We stayed as quiet as possible. They had no idea what was going on at first." He stopped talking for a moment to catch his breath. Sieglinde wished she could let him rest but she needed to know what had happened. He continued, "They began to think the forest was haunted, but then their commander woke up and got sense back into them. Dieter and Burkhard tried to take more of them down. They succeeded a few times but the commander was too smart." He was forced to stop as recalling what had happened to his sons came back to him. He convulsed with sobs. "They were caught and killed when they tried again," he cried.

His eye closed. When he did not speak again, Sieglinde pressed him, "Were any others killed?"

He took a deep breath before he answered. "I don't know. When the commander realized what was going on he ordered the archers out for the morning. Some of them were reluctant to go but I think they were more afraid of their commander. When we heard the archer's fighting, the commander had had enough. He ordered the trebuchet loaded. I tried to stop them ... "

Though he had explained the situation very well, though he deserved some rest and peace, she had one more question. "Is Humbert alive?" she asked.

"I don't know."

She thanked him and stood, intending to check on the others. A heavy hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see Lord Mintharch.

"We can start taking the others through immediately," he said.

She looked over those gathered in the hall. Though Guntram had said there was hope, she saw none of it amongst the injured and frightened. She looked down at Dietfried. He felt no honour through his pain. They would die trying to save her home. The peninsula would remain but there would be none of them to tend it. As dry as her mouth was, she swallowed. "Yes," she said. "Yes. I have asked too much of them. I hope they can forgive me."

"They chose to stay," he said. "They knew how to leave and what was coming."

They walked into the middle of the hall and looked at those around them. Together they announced the new plan to the remaining villagers. Though Sieglinde had expected to see relief upon their faces, many appeared more saddened. Strangely, that sadness is what made her feel the worst. She was now a failure and a coward.

Within minutes, the village was deserted as even the last of the archers from the wall pushed into the Great Hall. Almost all the buildings except the manor had been hit and engulfed in flame. The thick smoke of the fires had even begun to permeate the hall with an eye-burning haze.

The first of the able-bodied began to make the journey.

"You keep things moving here," Lord Mintharch said. "I need to make sure it is still safe on the other side."

Sieglinde was just about to ask how he would do that when his body transformed in front of her. He turned into a cloud white wyvern. His body looked battered and scarred. Her eyes widened as she realized the triangular sparkling points were his scales. Only a handful of them remained upon his body just behind his front legs and near the end of his tail. Everyone gasped in awe and watched as he pushed with his front legs and sailed through the smoke hole in the ceiling, leaving a small pile of those remaining scales behind.

She returned her attention to the hall. Amongst the chorus of coughing from the smoke, the mothers and crones were trying to prepare the wounded. Those who could walk on their own waited in line to climb into the tunnel. Those who could not were being wrapped in the curtains being ripped from their bolts.

Sieglinde rushed to the manor doors. She wanted to ensure that there were still no others outside. Word had spread very quickly about the passage and the hall had filled with the remaining people, but they had not counted. She had no idea what number to count to anymore. The only thing not burning was the wall, which stood as sparkling and as strong as ever.

The smoke was so think that her eyes were now watering in earnest and she had to breathe into her sleeve to avoid doubling over from coughing. The wind had strengthened and sparks blew from the demolished buildings onto the remaining gardens, setting them alight as well.

She walked quickly around either side of the manor. She checked the bushes nearest the lake. There was no one and her eyes could not take the punishment any longer. When she turned to go back to the manor, the loudest crash yet made her freeze for a moment before she ran back round to the front of the building.

The enemy had done it. One of their shots had finally hit the manor. It had caught the edge of the kitchens and the flames were quickly climbing the timbers to the thatched roof. She ran back into the Great Hall and closed the manor door to keep out the worst of the smoke.

The number of people still waiting to climb into the passage sunk her heart. The fire was upon them. Within minutes, she was sure the manor itself would be nothing but ash.

To her relief and her surprise, it took only another few moments before the last of the able-bodied who were not staying to help the wounded disappeared into the passage, leaving only the wounded to be lowered down. There were only three of them but each one took as long to lower down as it had taken ten able-bodied people to make the journey.

Sieglinde, Doris, Hiltraud, Gilbert and Anselm were working to lower Agnes when the roof became completely engulfed and the support beams began to creak. They looked at each other and swallowed hard.

"Keep going," Sieglinde said, "We can still do this."

The dry wood of the manor was proving to be eager fuel for the fire. The doors and the front wall were alight when they began to lower Dietfried. The largest of the support beams of the roof groaned as the fire ate it.

The final tug on the rope indicated the last of the wounded had reached the bottom. The rest of them wasted no time in climbing into the hole. Sieglinde was last.

The tunnel was too dark to see. She could hear the pairs carrying the wounded talking to each other as they worked together to avoid any dips in the floor. The passage was mostly straight and though there were sometimes rocks that caused small trips, Sieglinde managed to stay upright by keeping her hands pressed against the walls on either side of her.

With no visual cues, the journey was long. Walking around the lake seemed a shorter distance. When they reached the end, two of the severly wounded had already been lifted out. She waited patiently as the work was completed to lift the last. She found it easier to wait when there was no fire around her.

When she was finally able to climb to the top, Lord Mintharch was waiting to help her pull herself out of the hole.

"We need to hurry," he said. "The commander must have discovered our escape route. They started attacking us. Some of our men have manage to drive them back but more of them keep showing up."

She nodded and followed him from the dying shack. She looked in the direction of the manor. Her home was nearly burnt to the ground. The solar had long since collapsed and the Great Hall was barely recognizable.

She heard a scream to her right and whirled around to see one of the crones fall and the men carrying her wounded patient cut down quickly after. Two soldiers had broken free of the fighting that blurred the trees in the distance.

"Run!" Lord Mintharch bellowed.

"But the wounded!"

"Run or die!" He yelled again. "Get to the road!"

She did as he ordered and ran north. Her chest cried in pain with each expansion from her breathing but she did not slow until she stumbled upon several more soldiers trying to attack a small grouping of her people. Swords clanked together in ear piercing bursts as several of her own tried to fight them back. One of them, a tall, broad-shoulder man was having great success in felling the soldiers.

Her knees nearly buckled when she realized who it was. Humbert was protecting them. He continued to struggle against one of the last soldiers as the cowering group began to break free and continue their run north.

She hesitated. She did not know whether to stay and help or run with the others. She had no idea how to use a sword but as she watched the dance of Humbert's blade, she realized that he very much did. With hope, she returned to running north, hoping that she would eventually come across some kind of road with carts. She knew Humbert would be alright and that kept her body from giving way.

Her legs became numb but continued their mechanical movement. The sounds of fighting and fire faded. Her breathing and her foot falls were the only thing she could hear. She continued running.

She broke from the trees and nearly feel into the side of a horse.

"Get in the cart," a man said.

She looked up to see him sitting on a wagon and holding the reins to the horse. Several others had already climbed in the back. Hulda, Minna, Gerulf and Dana were huddled together looking too exhausted and worn to be terrified anymore. She climbed in behind them.

Through her panting, Sieglinde asked, "How many?"

The man kept his eyes upon the forest. "Only who you see here," he said.

She looked into the trees, hoping to see more headed for them.

"Any wounded being carried?" she asked.

"No."

She quieted and waited.

The forest was silent and peaceful, belying what was happening to the south.

After several minutes, they heard someone approaching. Sieglinde saw the man's fingers tighten around the reins.

"We need to get going," he said low.

"But there are others back there," she said. "We need to wait."

"They are likely all cut down," he said. "It has been too long since you came. Those footfalls are heavy. If it is an armour weighted soldier, we are in trouble."

He flicked the reins and urged the horse on. The horse started slowly.

"But we can't just leave them," she said.

"We must. I've lost my best friend this day too," he said. "You do not honour the dead by throwing away your life."

He urged the horse faster and the cart began to bump and shudder over the dips in the ground.

She looked back at the spot they had left. As distance grew, she saw Humbert run out of the trees and look either way down the road. Her heart leapt as he saw them and began to chase after them.

"It is Humbert!" she cried. "Stop! Let him get to us!"

The man stopped the wagon and looked over his shoulder to watch Humbert run up to them. When he had hopped onto the wagon, the man flicked the reins once more and the wagon trundled down the road.

Sieglinde threw her arms around Humbert and kissed him all over his face. He wrapped his arms around her but pulled his head away.

"Those are not the kisses I was hoping to have again," he said before pressing his lips against hers.

## Chapter 39

Luitgard did not move. She was not even sure she could outrun a Goddess no matter how fast she was.

As the Goddess stepped closer, Luitgard whispered, "Please." She had not intended to speak, the words had been created by instinct. Her plea went unheeded.

The Goddess simply sunk the dagger deep into Luitgard's stomach without warning or flourish. In her shock, Luitgard's hands flew to the handle. The Goddess' fingers still grasped it. They were cold like the lake waters of her beloved home. She could feel a painful tingle move through all of her limbs.

She looked up into the Goddess's eyes. "You said you were bound to protect me," she said. Even as she spoke, she could feel her knees weaken.

The Goddess nodded. "I was; with one exception. In this place, with this dagger, I am free from my vow. It was the only way to end the contract I made with your grandfather."

"Why?"

The strange sensation of wanting to vomit without heaving washed over Luitgard. The Goddess reached out with her free hand and caressed her cheek.

"Because I am tired of these games," she said. "Your grandfather had me protect an entire village until you came along. But then you showed desire to travel on your adventures. He brought you to Rome to change our pact. If I protected you, wherever you were, that would be enough. To prove to him the deal had changed, I took your parents as payment. I had thought it a blessing, that I could sleep. But even just you is too much for me. I am tired."

Luitgard gave a small chuckle that then made her cringe in pain. "You haven't done a great job of protecting me," she said. "Even before this place."

"Did Merek gut you by that fire or rape you in Florence?" The Goddess asked.

"He never tried either," Luitgard wheezed.

The Goddess nodded. "He wished to kill you before Justin's eyes then to use you for his own desire," she said. "But I stayed his hand and even his will. I kept you safe even when you knew nothing of my presence. I am why he chose to speak with you instead and use his torments in ways that would not force me to intervene."

"Is that why you let Justin near the village?" Luitgard asked, "He never forced you to intervene?"

"Justin would never have harmed you or betrayed you. Merek had sent him to lure you out to leave the village unprotected but you were never in danger with him. If you had sent him away, he would never have told another soul about you or the Mintharchs. He was never any threat. So your people are dead but I have kept my side of the deal as difficult as it has been. Have you ever had to watch over even a single person for every moment?"

The Goddess lowered to her knees with Luitgard. She did not move her hand from her cheek. Though it was cold, it was also comforting. Any betrayal or hatred Luitgard had felt seemed unable to exist beneath the touch.

"I watched over all of my people," Luitgard said. "Every day I looked after dozens."

A faint smile touched the Goddess' lips. "Child," she said quietly, "You have no idea. Even with your loose care, you had to leave in the end. Even with their safety in your hands, you had to leave for your own answers. Do you really have a right to judge me?"

"With you holding a dagger in my gut? Yes."

The Goddess' eyes closed. "I did not expect you to understand," she said. "That is alright. But know this. Your sacrifice is not in vain. Ending the contract in this way was the only way your grandfather could keep his soul. It was only a matter of time before someone was born amongst your kind with more greed than compassion. That day, the protections would have fallen anyway and Kilchain's soul would have been my prisoner for the rest of time. This is a blessing for all of us."

Luitgard's neck lost its strength. Her head lolled forward and her eyes fell upon the lifeless Justin. The heat of her tears was too strong for the chill of the Goddess. The deity pulled her hand away.

"He was going to make me his wife," Luitgard whispered.

The Goddess slowly withdrew the blade and stood. "I am sorry, Luitgard," she said. "Of all the Kilchain's, I understood you best."

Luitgard's chuckle of indignation was cut short by the rapid loss of her blood. She fell forward onto the grass. As she turned her head to Justin, she reached with her hand for his.

"I should have listened to you," she said. "I am so sorry." Her fingers reached his and curled around them. The warmth had already fled and there was no response to her touch, yet she was comforted. She would be joining him soon. "Is there a Heaven?" she asked the Goddess.

"If there is, I have never been there."

Despite the answer, Luitgard smiled. Her lungs were losing their strength as she remembered Justin's warmth as he had held her. "There is."

## Epilogue

Sieglinde tried to ignore the turning heads of those in the streets as they looked at her blue dress. She heard the murmurs of some of the women who were trying to figure out if she were a noble and if she were, where she had come from.

Humbert pulled his horse to a stop in front of a merchant's table that was covered with ornate combs. He nodded to Klará, who was sitting behind it. She smiled as she realized who they were and rushed inside to fetch Arnold.

Sieglinde stopped her horse behind Humbert's. He looked over his shoulder at her.

"Adelina fell asleep," he said.

Sieglinde smiled. If there was one thing her daughter had proven in her four years, it was that she could sleep anywhere. She lowered herself from her horse and walked up to Humbert's. She reached up to take the little girl from him.

"I want to go home, mama," the girl protested as she stirred.

"Soon, little one," she cooed as she held the girl close.

Sieglinde looked up and down the lane at the busy merchants and the carts and horses making their way through Stare Mesto. It was strange to know Luitgard had once been there. Somehow that knowledge made her feel closer at that moment. The breeze rustled her hair and she looked up to the sky. Her heart skipped as she hoped to see a wyvern but there were not even any clouds.

She lowered her chin as the familiar face of their saviour emerged from the darkened doorway. He smiled when he saw who his visitors were.

"Friends!" he called before embracing Sieglinde and Humbert in turn. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

"We came with a gift of thanks for how much you have helped us," she said. "We finally had enough to spare."

With her words, Humbert turned back to the horses. He began to untie a large bundle that had been secured behind his saddle.

"I was doing a favour for an old friend," Arnold said.

She nodded in understanding but countered, "We insist. Saving us was only right, helping us with our new home has been too generous. Humbert says you were quite taken with the fabrics Luitgard provided you."

His eyes widened and he could not keep the beaming smile from his face. "I was indeed."

"We have managed to make some more for you," she explained. "It is not as much as we have wanted to give. There are too few of us to live like we once did."

Humbert held out the large bundle with both hands. Arnold grasped it and held it close to his chest.

"If you bring me more next year," he said, "I will be your rescuer any time. You are welcome to stay in my home. It is just Klará and I now that Dorota is married so we have plenty of room."

Sieglinde nodded her thanks. "Just the night will do fine," she said. "But what we really came to discuss was a trading partnership."

In the six years she had known Arnold, she had never seen his face become so animated. He threw one arm around her shoulders and his other around Humbert's middle−he was too short to reach any higher−and ushered them inside. "Come then, my dear," he gushed. "We have much to discuss."

**###**

## About the Author

Tara K. Young is a former archaeologist who spends her days twisting her archaeological knowledge into fantasy stories. Time not spent researching or writing is joyfully filled with the company of her daughter and husband.

**Other Works by Tara K. Young**

Shauna's Inheritance (a short story)

Devil's Sacrifice (a short story)

The Monstrous Hunt (novella, available free of charge)

Gods' Masks, Book 1 of the Moirean Tapestry (available free of charge)

The Whispering War, Book 2 of the Moirean Tapestry

Memory's Emissary, Book 3 of the Moirean Tapestry

**Connect with Tara Online**

Twitter http://twitter.com/TYoungWrite#

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Kristen-Young/197334213614658

Website http://www.myriadmaia.com
