

# My Father's Swords

### My Father's Swords

### By Dave Skinner

### Warriors, Heroes, and Demons

### Book 1

Copyright © Dave Skinner, 2016

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Published by Dave Skinner 0-9918966

Haliburton, ON. K0M 1S0

Edited by Ann Westlake

www.wcediting.com

Map by Xanworx Studio

http://xanworx.com/

https://www.facebook.com/xanworx/

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

# Chapter 1

Atop the mast the royal pennant of Nadia fluttered and went limp. A single cloud sent a spatter of rain across the knot of ships, as if the Mother cried for those below. The sound of fighting fell away as the last of the ship's crew died under the swords of the pirates. Now only two remained.

Argon rested against the cabin wall, conserving his strength for the fight to come while guarding the cabin door that led to the ship's deck. There was blood on the left side of his shirt. There was blood dripping from the swords in his hands. There was blood seeping across the cabin floor from the bodies jammed in the doorway. He wanted to embrace Bray and reassure him that they would be okay, but Crown Prince Argon of Nadia never lied to his son.

"What are they waiting for, Father?" Bray asked.

"I believe they are getting set to attack through both doors."

"Can we stop a double attack?"

"We must try. I will cover this door, and you should be to the left of the balcony doors. As soon as they break through, you must attack from the side. Do not try to stand against them, just dart across in front stabbing as you go. Surprise is your ally. Then repeat the move from the other side when the second wave comes through, or slip behind them if possible. I will break off from the defense of this door as soon as I can. Together we will rush the balcony doors. Maybe we can break through and get into the water. Once under the ships we have a chance and may be able to make our way to shore."

Argon paused and looked away from his son, as if listening for movement outside the doorway he guarded. In reality he was thinking that the next attack would most likely include the use of crossbows. Fighting against crossbows with swords, no matter how good your swords were, was doomed to fail. He must consider his final words to Bray.

"We will fight to the end, Bray. That is what we Nadians do. If you survive but I am killed, you must promise me something. You understand that our swords... Nadian swords... are special. They must be returned to the family. You must make that your goal if you survive. At some time you must retrieve my swords, or at the least inform the family about who has them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good, then rest for now. They will not keep us waiting for long."

Prince Argon looked to where Bray was seated on the floor of the cabin. Bray's eyes were closed, his brow furrowed slightly and almost hidden by the sun-bleached brown hair that had come loose from the leather thong that had held it back from his face. His two small swords, really only long knives, lay across his legs, held in his tightly closed hands. Argon wished he could have more time with his son, time to see him reach manhood, time to teach him how to be a prince, and most of all, time to tell him how much he was loved.

# Chapter 2

In the captain's cabin of the _Blood Rose_ , Yucan Vee listened without comment to Singh's raging. Being berated by the pirate warlord was not a new occurrence for him.

"Yeh be a snivelling, useless, pigtail sucker," Singh spat. "Thirty ships against one an you still manage to stretch the attack out for three hours. What yeh here for now, more men, or want me to come an finish off the Prince myself?"

Yucan Vee did not react to Singh's comments. He knew that Singh hated him, almost as much as he hated Singh. He did step back from the spittle Singh spewed while he raged. The old fool's time had come. There was only one step left to settle Singh's fate.

"We'll finish the prince an his brat shortly. They managed to take refuge in the captain's cabin, an are like badgers in a tree trunk, but we'll have em soon. I simply came to give ye an update while we ready our next attack. But there is one thing that would bring bout success in a timely manner."

"A timely manner," Singh spat. "That ship has sunk, Vee. This business should've been over hours ago. Just get in there an slay the man. Yeh be always braggin bout how right good you be with your swords. Let's see some proof."

"I plan to kill the prince myself during the next attack, but I needs a distraction."

"What kind'a distraction? You need fifty more men to disarm and hold im while yeh stab im in the back?"

"No, I only needs one man. Cracker."

Singh looked at the man standing behind him, his personal protector and henchman. Cracker was a giant, or close to it. He was easily the largest man Vee had ever seen, hugely muscled, and probably the ugliest person he had come across. Men joked that Cracker's mother had been a giant ground sloth and his father a cave bear, although no one said this close enough for Cracker to hear. That mistake had proved fatal enough times to make even the most fool hardy cautious.

"Yeh wants Cracker to kill im because the great Vee is too scared to face a Nadian swordsman?"

Yucan Vee thought that he would be happy to have Cracker fight the prince, but he would not admit it. He was sure the Nadian would carve the big man up like a giant carp. He wanted to put Cracker in harm's way. If he was killed it would make Singh's assassination that much easier. In fact the only reason Vee had not tried to kill Singh before now was because of Cracker's presence, and his belief that Cracker would seek revenge on Singh's killer.

"I needs someon to draw the Prince's full attention, get im to move in the direction I want. Cracker's the only person large enough to do it. I'd need to get ten men into the cabin to equal im as a threat. If ye wants these two dead, as ye say, then this is the fastest way."

Vee watched as Singh realized he had been out maneuvered. The old pirate was not happy about it. Vee knew Singh had placed him in charge of the attack hoping that he would be stupid enough or unlucky enough to cross swords with Prince Argon and get killed. But that had not happened, and now Singh was stuck. This attack had taken too long. Another ship could appear at any moment. If the Nadians found out what had happened to their princes they would hunt the pirates down no matter what or how long it took. The king of Nadia was a ruthless ruler, Singh needed this to end, now, and he needed the prince's swords brought to him. Vee's spy within Singh's inner circle had told him that the swords were part of what had been promised to Singh by Artan, Argon's younger brother. Vee had been chipping away at Singh's authority for years now, but possessing Nadian swords would ensure Singh's position as the unchallengeable leader again.

"Okay," Singh agreed. "Cracker will join the attack. Now stop wasting time. Finish this, and remember I need proof that both of them is killed dead, absolute proof, no foul ups. It be the lash for anyone who messes this up."

Yucan Vee turned away from Singh and carried his smile out of the cabin. He heard Singh command Cracker to make sure both Argon and his son were dead, and bring the Prince's swords to him.

Cracker's smile was spread across his face when he joined Vee on deck making him look even uglier somehow. He nodded his bald head and followed Vee to the captured ship.

# Chapter 3

"Up Bray, take your position."

Bray scrambled to his feet, and flattened himself against the wall, with the balcony doors to his left. Nothing had alerted him to a change, but perhaps he had been lost in his own thoughts. He had been picturing the movements he would have to make when the men came through the door, as he had been taught to do. The sudden dash from his hidden position, sword held thus or swords... should he carry both of his swords or just one... no, both swords for sure... left hand slashing... right hand protecting. Now he checked to make sure the leather thongs that would keep his swords from falling away—if dropped—were secure around his wrists. Something he had checked a number of times already.

Suddenly everything was still, as if the Mother was holding her breath, and Bray knew it was about to start. He glanced towards his father to issue a warning, but his father must have sensed it too. He was ready.

The balcony doors burst inward. Two men smashed through feet first, and sprawled on the floor. The ropes they had swung in on snaked back out the doors. In his planning the men were supposed to be standing, he was going to dash across and slash their stomachs, but they ended up on their backs. As he was thinking these thoughts he was already moving forward. Bray was proud of his actions; do not lock yourself into your own plan because it will not always go your way, his teachers had said. With a slight change to the plan, his sword slashed down across the exposed necks instead of up across the stomachs. Bray jammed himself up against the wall on the other side of the doors. He glanced at his father. The prince was still managing to hold the attackers outside the main door. He glanced towards Bray.

For a second Bray saw the light of hope in his father's eyes, but then they changed. The eyebrows went up, the eyes opened wide, as something blocked out the light from the balcony. Bray swung back to the door. As proud as he had been of his actions in the first moments of the fight, now he found he could not move at all, locked into place by a monster standing in the doorway. The biggest, most grotesque man he had ever seen.

He heard his father issue a war cry, as he started across the cabin towards the monster-man. Bray also sprang towards the giant, his inability to move shattered by his father's cry. In another second he would be slashing the monster's legs from behind. Instead, in that moment his life shattered.

As if in slow motion Bray watched his father start across the floor at the same time a man carrying a crossbow squeezed in through the main cabin door, now at his father's back. Simultaneously, Bray saw the back of a massive open hand, attached to a massive arm, swinging towards him as he tried to duck behind the man's legs. The monster's backhanded swipe caught Bray on the side, stopping time, lifted him off his feet, driving him across the balcony, over the railing, and into the water. His last sight was not of his father, who was flung off his feet by a crossbow bolt tearing into his back. It was the sneering face of his father's killer, the man with the crossbow.

# Chapter 4

Yucan Vee dropped the crossbow and drew his sword. The prince was trying to push himself up off the floor when Vee's sword slashed across the back of his neck. Prince Argon died spread eagle on the cabin floor without another sound.

Quickly Vee sheathed his own sword and pried the Nadian blades from the dead man's hands.

"I take those swords to Singh," Cracker announced.

"Singh also said to make sure they were both dead."

Cracker looked back towards the balcony doors, for the boy's body, but it was nowhere. "I hit him," he said, as a worried look crept over his face. "Where'd he go?"

"Ye knocked him out the balcony doors. I think I heard im hit the water. Best make sure he be dead."

Cracker ducked his bulk out through the doors. From the balcony he could see a triangle of open water delineated by the stern of this craft, and the sides of the two pirate ships from which the attack across the balcony had been launched. The boy's body was not there. "Where's the kid's body?" he called to the men crowded around the railings of the other two ships.

"Hit the water and sank," someone called.

"He dead?" Vee asked. He had followed Cracker out onto the balcony.

"Probably is now, unless he's a fish," someone called. This was followed by a burst of laughter from the assembled men. Cracker turned back to Vee. "Yah, he probably drowned," he said, a smile creeping across his face.

"Ye sure? I think that's the question Singh will ask."

Cracker's smile slipped away. "No, not sure," he admitted in a low voice.

"Well, I would make sure if I were ye. Wouldn't want to tell Singh that the body just disappeared, and ye didn't try to find it."

Vee watched Cracker digest the statement. Although he was an awesome fighter, it was not in Cracker's nature to be subtle. If he had any thoughts at all, they were easily read on his pock marked face. Vee could see Cracker struggling to grasp a solution until a look of despair settled on his face. It was like watching a pot almost ready to boil, always on the verge, but never quite getting there. Finally, an idea bubbled to the surface.

"You should make sure the kid is dead. You was in charge of the attack."

"I would, but Singh told me to get back to im as soon as the fight was over. Ye stay here while I tell Singh what has happened. I'll tell him that you accidently knocked the kid into the water, and now you be making sure he's dead as he instructed. I'll tell im that ye have men in the water here searching under these ships, and ye set men with crossbows on the outer ships with orders to shoot anything they see in the water. Singh will be mad that ye didn't just kill the kid, but he will take his anger out on me instead'a you. There be anything else ye wants me to tell him?"

Cracker looked relieved when he managed to digest what Vee had said. He turned back to the men on the ships and started bellowing instructions. Vee made his way back to the deck, and across to Singh's ship.

***

Singh's cabin aboard the _Blood Rose_ was crowded with all the other captains squeezed into it, but that was the way he arranged it. He wanted all of them there to witness him belittle Yucan Vee. He would put Vee down and then, with the Nadian swords in his possession, no one would challenge his authority again. He knew Vee had the support of some of the captains, so he kept close those men whom he knew were faithful.

Singh watched as Vee came down the stairs into the cabin. He expected Cracker to be right behind him, but the giant was not. Singh felt some apprehension evidenced by a foul smell that rose around him. Pushing the feeling aside he concentrated on Vee and the two swords he was holding. He had seen fancier swords in more splendid scabbards. There were no jewels decorating the scabbards, or the handles as far as he could tell. The cross guard was plain also, but they had something about them that made Singh's heart race. Nadian swords had a look.

"Bout time yeh finished, Vee. This attack should've been over way before this. I see yeh got my swords. Did yeh manage to kill both of the Nadians or yeh back for more men?"

"The Nadian prince is dead, but we be not sure bout the boy. His body is missing."

"Missing! How can his body be missing?"

"Cracker knocked him into the water and his body vanished. He has men searching now."

"The level of stupidity you've shown in this business, Vee, makes my head hurt. Almost half the chase wasted, scores of men dead, and now one Nadian missing. I'm sorry I ever gave yeh command of this little action. I won't be making that mistake again. Now hand over my swords, and yeh be givin Cracker a hand to find the boy's body."

Singh expected Vee's face to show anger, but instead a smile spread across it.

"I believe I'll keep the swords as my part of the spoils. After all, I killed the prince while you be hiding in your cabin."

Singh's hatred of Vee flared. He had taken everything he was going to from him. For years Vee had plucked at the threads of his authority without success. Singh's captains were still loyal to him. It was time to kill this upstart. His hand slipped easily onto the handle of his sword where it stood beside his chair. He hoisted his bulk up. "Kill him," he roared.

Grunts, groans, and curses filled the cabin. Singh expected a surge forward as his loyal captains rushed Vee's supporters, but instead his men were slaughtered. Five were struck down by men he thought he could trust. They were knifed in the back, or they were garrotted. The slaughter didn't last long, just long enough for Singh to realize he had been set up. Bellowing his rage he swung his broadsword over his head and charged Vee who brought the two Nadian swords up to stop Singh's blade from crashing into his head, but Singh wasn't worried. He too was a giant of a man with enormous strength. His huge broadsword had crashed through many opponents' defenses before. His blade swooped down on the Nadian swords and broke. One of the Nadian swords flicked out and seemed to caress his throat. He tried to bellow again, but it came out as the sound of blood bubbling from a slit throat, his throat, the sound of his own death.

***

Cracker swung across to the deck of the _Blood Rose_. He was not looking forward to telling Singh that the boy had escaped. Singh had a tongue like a cat-o'-nine-tails.

As he started towards the poop deck and the door to Singh's cabin he saw Needles, Vee's first mate, struggle out the doorway carrying a body. Needles made his way to the rail and tossed the body into the water. A second later Cracker realized he had witnessed the beginning of a parade as body after body was carried out by various captains and tossed away.

Finally Singh's body was dragged out. Two men had the arms stretched out above his head. Yucan Vee carried his feet. Singh's body joined the others as Cracker moved towards the poop deck. All the captains stopped talking when Cracker came towards them. Vee stepped forward to meet him.

"He wouldn't listen, Cracker. Wanted us to kill ye for what ye done. We argued, but ye know how he'd get when he was furious. Ye be too important a crew member for us to lose over a stupid mistake. It was im or ye mate. We chose ye."

Cracker looked around at the rest of the captains. They were all nodding their heads in agreement. Thoughts flapped around in his head like the canvas of a loose sail. He was supposed to protect Singh, but if Singh was dead, dead because these men fought to save him, then what should he do? It was too complicated for him to grasp. He would think about it later.

"Boy made it to the beach," he reported. "Hid under a dead body and swam it to shore. We saw nothin until he left the water."

Vee thought before he answered not wanting his first words as leader to be a Singh type rant. "That be unfortunate. Send some men after im. He can't have gotten far."

Wolf Blackheart, captain of the _Foam Skimmer_ cleared his throat. "That is Tawshe land. Intruders never leave Tawshe land alive. No reason to worry about the kid, he will be dead in no time, guaranteed."

"Make sure," was all Vee said with his eyes locked on Blackheart's.

Everyone was motionless. Tension crackled like new wood on a fire until Marak, captain of the _Green Dragon,_ spoke. "I'll make sure the kid is dead, Vee. The Tawshe are barbarians, cannot have one brain between the bunch of them. My men and I will be back before the decks are cleared and the loot stored."

"If you're not, we leave without ye."

"I'll not be worrying. The _Green Dragon_ will catch up in no time."

With that assurance, Marak spun away while calling out to his men.

# Chapter 5

Ta'Kat stood at the edge of the small meadow considering the contents of the large basket she carried. She let the fingers on her one hand walk their way through the herbs it contained. Ta'Lee was snoozing on their blanket. The three year old was becoming a handful with her almost insatiable curiosity and boundless energy, but in sleep she looked like the baby she was. There was a small smile at the corners of her mouth. She looked content, and so she should be.

They had gathered herbs all morning after the long walk to reach this meadow. Lee had been a small help which was wonderful, because she could have as easily been a large distraction. But she had promised to be good and had kept her promise.

After their picnic lunch, Ta'Kat had gathered a few more herbs while Lee had fallen asleep. Now, it was time for them to return to the village.

"Wake up, sweetheart, time for us to head home," she said as she knelt beside her daughter and pushed hair back from the child's face. She didn't have to repeat herself. Ta'Lee gave that little body shrug she always does when she wakes, and then jumped to her feet.

"Will you piggyback me some of the way, Momma?"

"Piggyback? Piggybacks are for tired little babies, not for big girls like you." Kat folded up their blanket and added it to the basket.

"Piggybacks are not just for babies, Momma. They are exciting. The world has a different look when I'm way up there, and I have to watch out for tree branches and stuff. That is my job as piggybackee."

"You seem to know a lot about this activity, young lady. Has Shawn been giving you rides?"

"He likes to do it. He puts me way up on his shoulders sometimes and walks through the woods. I like it too except for the spider webs, but I have learned to—"

Lee stopped talking as they both heard a shout come echoing through the trees from the direction of the lake. The first shout was answered by two more. Her people would never call out like that. The voices had to come from intruders.

A quick rattle of drum beats was the next sound she heard. A fast three beats followed by a pause and two more. Good. The intruders were being tracked, but that did not guarantee Lee's safety. They had to get across the meadow and into the trees, quickly, in order to be moving away from the danger.

"Up," she whispered as she dropped to a crouch again. Lee sprang onto her back. Rising, with the basket in one hand and the other held behind her to support Lee, she whispered again. "Hold on." Lee knew better than to answer, but before Ta'Kat could move someone stepped out of the trees close to their position.

# Chapter 6

Bray knelt behind a stump at the edge of the sandy beach, far enough into the trees to be hidden from view, but still able to watch. His wet clothes clung to his body and he shivered in the fresh breeze blowing off the water. A gash in one leg that he could not recall receiving stung, but the bleeding was less now. He hoped the pirates would sail away, but such was not to be. A dinghy set off from one of the ships and pulled towards shore. Bray did not want to enter the woods at his back. They appeared dark and uninviting. He could smell their musky denseness, their oppressive heaviness, the odour of death. The crew told stories about the people who lived in these woods. A primitive tribe called the Tawshe. Very little was known about them because anyone who ventured onto their land was never seen again. The sailors on the ship had said they were man-eaters, and their favorite meal was young Nadian nobles. Bray knew they had said that just to see his reaction, and he reasoned it was not true. They probably liked to eat _all_ young nobles. Reluctantly, he turned from the shore and entered the woods.

The pirates must have found his trail. He could hear them. So far he had been able to stay out of their sight and far enough ahead that his blundering through the bush did not give his position away. He was trying to move as quietly as possible, but was finding it difficult. Branches continued to crack explosively no matter how carefully he stepped. He happened upon a game trail heading off to the left, took it, and was able to move quietly.

The game trail ran perpendicular to his previous route, and he was closer to the pirates following him before the path finally turned away from the now distant shoreline. He heard the pirates calling out to each other. They were close. He continued quickly along the path and broke suddenly out of the bushes into a small clearing.

A woman carrying a child and a basket was standing a small way into the opening, her back to him until another branch snapped under his foot. The woman spun around. A knife appeared in her hand. He expected a look of fear to mirror his own, but her face did not express fear. It was more like a snarl, an animal's snare. _Tawshe_ he thought.

No matter, Tawshe or not, the men following him were after his life, not hers, but they would not hesitate to kill her and her child. He would not let a child be harmed because of him. He made a hand gesture he hoped she understood, trying to say, get away, run. She took off across the meadow. He followed her. She disappeared into the woods on the far side of the clearing, but luck deserted him. He heard a shout behind before he made it to the trees.

Encumbered as she was with the child on her back, Bray reasoned that he and the pirates would overtake her if he followed her into the woods. He stopped, turned to face the pirates, and walked back to the centre of the clearing as he drew his swords.

He chose a relatively level part of the meadow floor for his stand. Three pirates were at the far edge of the clearing, standing, watching Bray. They stepped forward into the meadow then stopped. A forth pirate blundered into sight a moment later. They all drew their swords and waited.

Bray considered charging them before the others arrived. There must have been ten men in the dingy he had seen. The rest would be here soon. He should charge before they came, but he waited. He was exhausted. The battle yesterday, seeing his father killed, his time in the water, and the chase through the woods had taken a toll. He decided that catching his breath was more important if he wanted to survive.

The four pirates seemed to be waiting for the other men to show up. After a few moments one of them whistled, but there was no answer and no sound from the woods.

"Let the Destroyer have'm. Kill da little bugger and back to da ship for us," one said. They all took firm grips on their swords and came at him.

With both swords held firmly, Bray waited. His smaller size and the diminished length of his blades gave the men an advantage of reach, but the fact that there were four of them was an advantage to Bray. They could not bunch up together for fear of striking one of their own.

A pirate charged forward with a massive sweeping stroke meant to disembowel him, but the slash, probably the man's standard killing stroke, was high for Bray's small size. Bray ducked and lunged. The man cried out as the sword entered his stomach. Bray skipped away towards the next man on his left. That one went down also, but Bray received a deep cut to his right thigh as the other two men charged him. He spun away awkwardly. The remaining men began to work their way closer. That was when he noticed the circle of silent watchers standing around the clearing. For a moment, Bray thought they were the other pirates, but their buckskin clothing, dark swarthy appearance, and lack of jewelry told him differently. They must be Tawshe, and they were not here to save him.

Both pirates stopped moving when they too noticed the Tawshe warriors. Bray took the opportunity to attack. He killed one man with a thrust to the chest, but his sword stuck. He received a wound to his right shoulder from the last man, and his right arm no longer moved. It hung, dead, at his side.

The last pirate smiled. Bray flung his left hand out and released his second sword. It was a bad throw, not coming anywhere close to where it was aimed, at the man's chest. Instead it shot straight as an arrow into his throat. The pirate collapsed.

Bray watched him fall then moved his remaining sword from his useless right hand into his left. He wasn't a good swordsman with his left hand, but he held it out gamely and took his stance. He was bleeding and his stamina was almost gone.

One of the Tawshe warriors, a broad man with a blunt face, stepped forward. Bray held his sword up as best he could. The tip of the blade kept slipping lower. It took all his effort just to hold the sword out. The warrior knocked his blade against Bray's, pushing the tip of his sword even lower. In desperation Bray made a lunge and was knocked down by the flat of the man's sword. He scrambled to his feet, was knocked down again, and again. It was soon obvious that he was being played with.

One of the other warriors said something harsh. It must have been a command to finish because his opponent's body language changed. The smile left his face. He pulled his shoulders straighter. Bray braced himself. Suddenly there was a shout from the edge of the clearing. The Tawshe warrior stepped back, but kept his sword at the ready.

The woman stepped out of the trees. She left the child and her basket at the edge of the woods and walked over to the warriors. A conversation took place in a language Bray did not understand. He might have been able to understand what was happening if he could focus on their gestures, but he was having a hard time seeing through the fog that seemed to swirl before his eyes. Their conversation went on for a long while. It was heated at times.

Bray realized someone was walking towards him, and his sword tip was pointing at the ground. A jolt of energy went through his body, and he brought his sword back up. His eyesight cleared—it was the woman approaching. All the men were gone or in the process of fading back into the woods, except for the one who had been about to kill him.

The woman said something and made a motion with a hand, as if to say, 'lower the sword'. It took him a moment to realize she had said exactly that in the common tongue.

"Relax boy. No one is going to harm you," she continued. We will take you to our village where you will be cared for. But you have to walk the distance on your own. I cannot help you. If you fail, you die."

# Chapter 7

Prince Artan of Nadia poured the last of the wine into his goblet. The first two glasses had been watered, which was a disservice to its excellent taste, but necessary. The wine was a white vintage from the north slope of his estate. One of the best whites his wine-master had ever produced. One day, when his older brother Argon was no more and he was king, he would not have to worry about his father's restrictive rules. However, today he had to attend a council meeting, and his father frowned on drinking early in the day. Therefore he had mixed the first two glasses with water. This last half glass he would not bother to mix in appreciation of its tart green-apple flavor.

He drained the goblet with a practiced movement. His mouth exploded with the taste, the first green-apples of the season, which was followed immediately by a smoothness that contained a hint of the butter it felt like. He masticated the wine with gusto as if chewing at something solid before gulping it down. _When I am king_ _we will serve my wine in the council room, and the throne room._

A knock sounded at his apartment door. "Come."

A servant entered, and crossed the room to the balcony. "A message, my lord," he announced with a bow.

Prince Artan received the message and waved the man away. The wax stamp on the back was imprinted with a stylized letter S created to look like sword strokes. The craftsmanship was that of a master, obviously expensive, and more importantly it announced the character of the owner, Singh, the pirate warlord. The message was simple. Payment received. Bargain struck.

Artan let a smile creep across his fox-like features, as he considered the implications of what he held. By this time, the deed would be finished. His brother and his nephew would be dead, wiping out the first and second-in-line to the throne with a single move, leaving him as his father's only remaining son; Crown Prince Artan, direct heir to the throne of Nadia.

Below his balcony the sounds of swords striking together started again, as his son of seven years sparred with his instructor. The Crown Prince reached over to his ever present brassier and held the message to the glowing coals. As it burst into flames he dropped it, watching with satisfaction as all evidence of his intrigue was turned to ash. Below him on the sands of the family's personal training arena his son suddenly cried out as he was struck. Artan turned his attention back to the arena as the boy fell to the dirt.

Crown Prince Artan rose from his seat, leaned on the balcony railing and called down to those below. "Get up, boy, and stop that insufferable squealing."

He then turned his attention and gaze to the instructor. "Work him harder!" he commanded before he walked away.

# Chapter 8

A feeling grew in Bray as consciousness returned. He kept his eyes closed, and tried to identify what had caused him to awaken. There were soft sounds of movement coming from his left, kitchen smells tickled his nose, but they were not all he sensed. There was something else, a presence that seemed to be pressing on him. Not invading... more just being there. It pressed against his being like warmth from a fire. Unable to identify the cause of the feeling Bray opened his eyes and turned his head towards the sounds he had heard.

What appeared before him was not more than two hand spans distance. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to its proximity, but slowly it came into focus—a face, a child's face. She was sitting staring at him with a look of intense concentration.

When she saw Bray open his eyes, she spoke in a language he did not understand, although there did seem to be some similarity to the common language used around the Lakes.

Beyond the child, Bray saw a woman turn towards them. Her long black hair was held in a ponytail pulled forward over one shoulder. Her tall form was clothed in well-fitted leather breaches and top. She was the woman who had helped him, had probably saved his life if he had understood correctly what had happened in the woods.

It all came back to him—the fight on the boat, his father's death, the flight through the forest, the final attack, and the long grueling trip to the village, although those last memories were spotty at best.

"I hope you did not wake him," the woman said in the common tongue as she walked across the room. Behind her a large stone fireplace dominated one wall while the other walls he could see were made of logs. The woman had been working at a large, free-standing workspace set to one side of the fireplace, above which hung pots and other kitchen utensils amidst bunches of leaves and flowers.

"Not me, mother," the child replied. "I was as quiet as a Hob, and you told me the little-people do not make any noise, so I was just sitting here being hob-like, and watching him like you told me to."

The woman's face showed a pleasant smile as she ruffled the child's black hair. Bray noticed a similarity around their eyes that spoke to their family bond in addition to the identical black hair colour and dusky complexions.

"Well, let me have the stool please, little-one."

The child slipped out of Bray's field of vision. The woman took her place. She leaned over him, and he felt her lips cool on his forehead.

"Good, your fever has broken. You had us worried for a bit. I imagine you would like some water and maybe a little soup?"

Bray considered how his body felt and realized both of those items would be welcome. He tried to answer her question, but he only managed a squeak like a mouse. He heard the child giggle. The woman gave her a disapproving look as she reached over Bray's head. Her hand, when it reappeared held a clay cup. She lifted his head slightly with one hand and gave him a drink. The water was cool, not cold, but he felt it spread through his body. It was the best water he had ever tasted. He tried to gulp more, but the woman took it away.

"Not too much at first. You may have more in a while."

She must have expected Bray to answer because she suddenly looked concerned.

"You do understand what I am saying, right?"

Bray managed a 'yes' this time.

"Oh good, T'Waycan said you would probably understand the common tongue. Let us see if you can sit up, and then I will get you some soup, if you like."

"That would be wonderful, thank you," he croaked.

Working carefully, the woman lifted him into a sitting position while pushing a pillow behind his back. Bray tried to help, but his right shoulder burst into pain. He hid the discomfort as best he could.

While the woman went for the promised soup, Bray considered his body. He had been aware of only a dull irritating ache in his injured shoulder until he had tried to use it. Attempting to sit up had brought on severe pain. There was another problem in his right thigh. He seemed to remember taking a wound there too. His calf muscles were sore, as were his back and arm muscles. There were also a number of tender spots from the flat of the Tawshe's blade but, all in all, his wounds were not bad, and he was alive.

From the bed he could see the woman stirring the contents of a large black pot that was suspended above coals in the prominent stone fireplace. He glanced around while he waited. He would refer to this place as a cottage. The main area consisted of one large room that seemed to serve as a kitchen, eating space, and meeting room. The fireplace stood alone. There were two cupboards, one to each side of it, a large table, the workbench, and a number of chairs took up much of the floor space. One small child-sized chair stood beside the hearth. He was in a small afterthought area off the main room. Its size and the low ceiling suggested a loft above and perhaps a bedroom beside. All the wood he could see showed a depth of colour that suggested years of care and use except for the tops of the large table and workbench. They were bleached almost white.

The woman returned with the soup. Bray found that he could eat reasonably well with his left hand if he was careful. As he ate she talked.

"My name is Ta'Kat and this is my daughter Ta'Lee." She sat and waited until Bray realized what she wanted.

"My name is Bray of Nadia. Thank you for saving my life," he responded between mouthfuls of soup. It was a very good soup. Small pieces of meat were mixed into a spiced broth made thick with a soft grain. The aroma rose to his nostrils and made his stomach grumble.

"And thank you for what you did at the meadow. It was a noble deed."

Bray worked on the soup trying to figure out what to say. He thought it best not to offend this woman. She had to be Tawshe, and there were all sorts of ways he could break some tradition or taboo he did not understand. Something that could see his recovery stopped by a slice across his throat. He could not help but notice the hunting knife hanging from her belt. He had to tread softly.

"You speak the common tongue," he stated.

"Yes. We all learn to speak it, although some of us," she looked at her daughter, "do not practice as much as they should."

"I speak it better than the other children my age. Practicing with them is not helpful."

"This soup is very tasty," Bray said.

"Thank you, it is venison with barley. It contains some of the herbs we were gathering when you happened on us. Do they make barley soup in Nadia?"

"I suppose they do, but my grandfather is not fond of soup. He prefers meat and tubers, so they are usually served at dinner."

"Your grandfather lives with your family?"

"Yes, but he would be offended to hear it put that way. My family and my uncle's family all live together with my grandfather."

"It must be a big house," she prompted.

"It is the palace," Bray informed her, "and I must get a message to them."

"You can speak with T'Waycan about that. He should be here shortly."

Bray had a hint that she was avoiding that subject, but he could wait. No point in pushing her. There were still so many unknowns.

"You will be living here with us," she informed him. "My son T'Shawn is around your age, I believe. How many years are you?"

"I was eight years on my last birthday celebration."

"T'Shawn is two years older. He was ten on his last birthday."

"I'm three," Bray heard Ta'Lee say from behind his head.

Bray's face reflected the smile that showed on Ta'Kat's face. "I thought you were much older than that, Ta'Lee," Bray said.

"Probably because I am so smart," the child responded. "And you can call me Lee. The use of my formal name is not necessary."

Ta'Kat explained when she saw Bray's puzzlement. 'Ta' is a formal prefix for female names. 'T' is the male prefix. They are used to introduce someone, or to show respect, like in a formal situation. For everyday conversations they are ignored."

There was a knocking at the door. "That will be T'Waycan," Kat said as she stood.

Bray was surprised by T'Waycan's appearance. Ta'Kat's attitude had suggested a person in a position of respect and responsibility. Based on Nadian standards, Bray anticipated an older man gowned in a rich robe covered in symbols depicting his station and position. None of the characteristics Bray expected were present in the newcomer. T'Waycan looked more like a warrior than an advisor. His wild, unruly hair was the first thing Bray noticed. Brown, with grey showing at the temples and to a lesser degree salted over the whole head, it stood out from his scalp as if each hair exhibited distaste for its neighbours. It immediately curled the corners of Bray's mouth.

T'Waycan was dressed in leather leggings, a light yellow cloth blouse, which hung freely from his broad shoulders, and calf-high, black, leather boots. His face was clean shaven, his skin weathered and deeply tanned. His grey eyes were his strangest feature. They were open as if in surprise, giving the impression of interest and intelligence, which meshed easily with the air of strength and vitality he exuded.

Ta'Kat made a formal introduction. "T'Waycan, may I present Bray of Nadia. Bray, this is T'Waycan, our village shaman." T'Waycan laughed. It was obviously something he did often and easily.

"Hello Bray, how are you feeling?" he said in Nadian. "Do your wounds hurt?"

"Only if I try to move," Bray replied.

"Then by all means you should lie quietly. Tomorrow will be soon enough to get you up and moving, but even then it will be a month or more before you are ready to attend school."

"My family will send someone to take me home. I think I will not be here long enough to attend school," Bray informed him. "Was word sent to Nadia that I am here?"

"No, and no word will be sent. You will be here until you become a man at eighteen years. That condition was negotiated for you by Kat in order to save your life. You see, intruders do not leave Tawshe land. Most are killed immediately. You are being offered a chance at life because of your actions in the meadow."

Bray felt his face stiffen as he digested the man's words. "A chance at life?"

"Yes, a chance. Tawshe life is demanding. Not everyone who starts on the journey survives the training, and you will be trained as a Tawshe along with our own. If you prove to be a _trueone,_ when you are tested at your manhood celebration, you will be a fully trained and educated Tawshe. Free to choose how and where you live your life."

Bray's mind refused to understand what Waycan was saying. It stumbled over the fact that his life was being laid out before him on a path of someone else's choosing. _They want to make me a Tawshe, but I am Nadian. I will always be Nadian. And Nadians are much more than_ _forest dwellers._ _But this man with his friendly, smiling face was telling him he was a prisoner, unable to leave, a prisoner who would be treated like family and trained to their lifestyle_. Bray's thoughts and T'Waycan's words crashed and tumbled around in his head.

T'Waycan just sat and stared as if expecting him to say something. Finally a single term broke free from the turmoil. " _Trueone_... what is a _trueone_?"

T'Waycan's expression changed. Once more he was the honest, friendly man who had come through the door. "A _trueone_ is what we all are, Bray, every adult member of the Tawshe is a _trueone_. It is a term that applies to all Tawshe who have completed their celebration of maturity which occurs in their eighteenth year. All Tawshe children are educated and trained to become _trueones_ , as you will be."

T'Waycan turned away from Bray. "Kat, those books I sent over for Lee, I will send a second set for Bray. He has to understand their teachings before he enters training. I will visit as often as possible to review the material with him, but make sure he reads continually. No breaks, he must study. He is going to have a hard enough time as it is. There will be no hope of ever fitting in if his knowledge of our lifestyle is less than that of a Tawshe child half his age. He only has a month to cover the equivalent of what is learned in four years by a Tawshe child.

***

"Try standing up on your own," Waycan suggested.

Bray managed without help. The smile on Waycan's face was infectious.

"Well done. How do the wounds feel today?"

"My leg has much less pain, but my shoulder still hurts when I try to use my arm."

"The wounds are clean with no infection and are healing nicely. Give the shoulder time. It will be back to normal soon."

Waycan was speaking Tawshe and Bray was having no trouble understanding him. The days had passed slowly while his wounds were fresh. The books from Waycan had arrived as promised. They were stories the Tawshe used to educate children in proper behaviour. For Bray they were also used to start learning the Tawshe language.

Each morning he was helped outside to a chair located at the front corner of the house where a large maple tree offered shade in the afternoon. Before noon the chair was warmed by the spring sunshine. Lee sat with him during the mornings, and together they worked their way through the books. The Tawshe language was like a dialect of the common tongue with some similarities to the Nadian language as well. Languages were something he had studied as a Nadian prince. He had little problem mastering this new one.

This day Waycan helped him to walk a little way around the village. They made it to the central square where they stopped for water at the well. The Tawshe village was primitive compared to Nadia. Instead of the stone buildings and walkways he was used to, the streets were dirt, and the houses were constructed mostly of wood. Some were framed with vertical logs that had been trimmed square. These had a clay mortar between the framing, applied over thin, woven, saplings. There were quite a few houses making up the village, and they spread out from the central square in all directions.

"Where do you live, Waycan?"

"I live at the school which is that way." He indicated the direction of the rising sun. "All Tawshe schools are located towards the rising sun. It is tradition. It is also tradition to have all craft houses and houses for visitors located near to it."

"Do you get that many visitors?" Bray was thinking about the fact that he was not allowed to leave Tawshe land, and that most strangers were killed before they ever saw the village.

"I am referring to Tawshe visitors. Our people travel extensively all around the inland lakes, mostly in caravans, sometimes individually, or in pairs."

"But I thought you wanted to isolate yourselves from everyone else. The stories I heard said you kill anyone who ventures onto your lands."

"That is done to keep our secret. You see Bray, the Tawshe are the people everyone refers to as Travellers or Gypsies. That is the secret we keep."

Bray was stunned by Waycan's admission. Travellers were everywhere. They were tinkers, healers, merchants, crafters, and entertainers. Everyone accepted them, and no one knew they were the Tawshe. It was a massive secret, but was it worth killing for?

"Why not just tell people that the Tawshe are also the Travellers. Why keep it a secret?"

"Because we are information brokers. If people knew that the Travellers were gathers of information, they would decline to share their stories."

"Do you mean that the Travellers are spies?"

"We prefer the term information brokers, but spy is basically correct."

"Do you know who the pirates are that attacked our ship?" Bray asked.

"No, there has been some speculation about the missing ships around the Chimney Islands, but nothing definitive has come to our ears. Why do you ask?"

"My father made me promise to return his swords to our family if I survived him. Nadian swords are special."

"Yes, I know. Be assured, we are already looking into the circumstances. I will inform you if I learn anything."

# Chapter 9

Bray was concentrating on walking without a limp. It was working. He had been walking farther each day, and his leg injury had not bothered him as much in the last few days, although his shoulder still pained him when he overused his arm. Waycan had pronounced him fit enough and educated enough to join a class of his peers. He would start tomorrow, and he admitted that he looked forward to it. The inactivity of the past month while he healed had quickly become tiresome, and if his new half-brother, T'Shawn, was an indicator of how he would be accepted, his future among the Tawshe was promising.

Shawn was two years his senior, but they had bonded quickly. Shawn was someone he could talk to about anything, despite their age difference, and Shawn's quick smile made him easy to talk to. He was also direct. The first day they met, he had told Bray what he expected of him. It was simple.

"Treat my mother and sister with respect. Protect them as if they were your blood family, and I will treat you accordingly. Cause any harm to either and I will see you dead."

"Your mother saved my life, Shawn," Bray had told him. "I will protect your family with my life."

"She believes you already have. She insists that you could have followed her into the woods and left it to the Mother to decide her and Lee's fate, but instead you chose to stop and fight. She claims you showed honour and courage."

Bray did not answer. A Nadian would never speak of his own bravery, if that was what his actions were. He had reserved judgment of himself, not sure if a moment's decision was in fact bravery. In his mind he had been brave while waiting for the pirates to attack again. He had plenty of time to think about what was about to occur then, but alternatives to waiting had not been present. Was it bravery when no other possibility existed? He could not answer. He held his words back.

His walk took him past the small farms outside the town. He could hear the squealing of pigs and smell their waste. The road led into the woods and swung towards the school. He might make it that far today, as his leg was free of pain. He had traveled a few bow shots past a fork in the road when he heard the tramp of running feet coming from behind. The road was wide enough for a cart, but he stopped at the side to let the runners pass.

He saw them come around a curve in the road. His new brother was running third behind the leader. This must be Shawn's class, the one immediately above the class Bray would enter tomorrow. They were closing quickly, the leader setting a brisk pace, and Bray understood immediately that this boy was always the leader. To see him was to recognize he who stood out from the crowd. The word hero came to Bray's mind unbidden. _I hope we will be friends_ , he thought and then dropped his eyes as he recognized the longing that went along with that thought. He started to raise his eyes as someone slammed into his body.

Bray was flung off the road into the bushes. Pain erupted from the site of his shoulder injury and from his back as he crashed into the brush, but the laughter from the boys hurt more. In moments they were past and then Shawn was helping him to stand.

"Are you okay?"

"Winded," Bray answered. "Was I in the way?"

"No, there was lots of space to get by. That was Ran's way of saying hello. He believes, as his father does, that you should not have been allowed to live."

***

"Nervous?" Shawn asked.

"Yes. I was looking forward to starting school until yesterday. Getting knocked off the pathway has awoken some concerns," Bray said. "Is every one of the same mind as this T'Ran person?"

"I wish I could tell you it is only Ran, but there are many who side with him and his father. More than the number who side with my mother, but remember, you're not in the same class as Ran and I. You'll be mostly with people of your own age group, and when you are with us for arms training and physical conditioning I'll be there also. I'll watch your back."

"Thanks, Shawn. I appreciate it. Where do I go?"

They had reached the school area which consisted of a double-hand count of cabin-sized buildings arranged in a circle around a well-used training yard. A few spots of hardy grasses could be seen amidst the hard-packed earth that covered the ground, most of it close to equipment used for physical training where tramping feet could not deviate from set paths. Some of the buildings flew small flags showing numbers which ranged from one to six.

"You're in two. I'm in three. Relax, Bray, you're going to be fine. I'll see you later." With that Shawn turned away and walked off towards a group of boys Bray assumed were his classmates.

After standing alone for a few moments, Bray moved towards classroom two where another group of children stood watching him. When he was close enough, he tried a smile. It was not returned by anyone.

"Hello, my name is Bray of Nadia," he said from the edge of the group.

"We know who you are, Nadian. Know that you are not welcome here," said a boy who stepped close to him. Bray had to raise his eyes slightly to meet his stony stare. The rest of the group crowded around them.

"Is that how you all think?" he asked as he looked around at their faces.

No one made a negative response. Bray tried to keep the expression of disappointment from showing. He was trying to think of something to say when a whistle sounded. The group surrounding him broke up and headed for the school room door where the whistler stood.

"Bray, I assume?" the man said when he reached the door. "I am T'San, your class instructor. Take a seat at the table."

The table turned out to be a horse-shoe shaped affair with the opening towards the front of the class. Only one chair was empty. It was the first chair in from the front of the classroom. Bray slipped into it and waited. The class quieted.

T'San was a medium-sized man of indefinite years. His hair was slightly greying, but he still moved with a vitality that suggested ample strength and fitness. His ponytail hung far down his back. His smile appeared to be something you had to earn.

"This class has an opportunity which few Tawshe classrooms have ever had. We have a person from Nadia with us. Instead of learning their customs from scrolls, you will be able to learn about them first hand. It is an opportunity I hope you will not squander." He paused and looked around at the other students. "Many of you will go into the world as Travellers, and will encounter people of every nationality with whom you will have commerce. To be successful you have to understand those people and treat them without animosity. Now, what do we know about Nadia?"

"It is a city on North Lake," a girl offered.

"They make good weapons," a boy added.

"They make exceptional weapons, the best I have ever seen, and they are strong warriors," T'San said. "Anything else? No one? Bray, what can you tell us about Nadia."

"Unlike your village, the city is made of stone. The building, the palace, and the walls that protect it are all stone. You could fit many Tawshe villages within its walls. There are many skilled craftsmen working fine metals that are mined in the nearby mountains. We make fine weapons also. The most common of these are traded around the Lakes, but the finest swords, the ones referred to as Nadian made, are reserved for our own people."

"Can you tell us who runs the city?" T'San asked when Bray failed to continue. "Is it run by elected officials or is it a monarchy?"

"It is ruled by the king," Bray said. He had been told by Waycan to keep his relationship to the crown a secret. 'It will make it easier for your fellow students to accept you,' the Shaman had said. Bray now considered the possibility of acceptance to be slight.

T'San asked Bray no other questions, instead he continued. "Nadia, Arcadia, and Bernadice are the three major cities located on the north shores of North Lake. They are all monarchies. There are strong family and military bonds between the three. Upper Thesia and Riverrun North are the other major cities on North Lake. They are not monarchies, but are governed by councils of elected officials. Many of the elected are the richest citizens. On South Lake, only The Point and Little Point are monarchies with the rest being governed by elected officials with the exception of The Delta. It is governed by the Council of Wizards. Now, let us consider the families and councils that make up the ruling classes."

For the rest of the morning T'San discussed history and current events related to each city. Bray was amazed at how much T'San knew. His knowledge revealed to Bray just how capable the Tawshe were at gathering information. They knew more about what was happening in the various cities around the lakes than he could imagine. By noon Bray's head was reeling with facts. He was glad when lunch time arrived.

After eating alone, Bray joined the rest of the class for their afternoon sessions. They started with strengthening exercises, working core, arms, and legs. These moved into stretching exercises and then various types of running and dodging, followed by a run along the same trail that Bray had walked the day before. Bray started well, but was the last to arrive back. Someone... who remained unidentified... had pushed him from behind. He was still cleaning brush and twigs from his hair and clothes when he arrived back.

"What happened, Bray?" T'San asked.

"I must have tripped."

"Are you injured?"

"Only a few scrapes," Bray answered, although he could feel an ache beginning in his injured shoulder.

"I want everyone to find a practice sword that suits them," T'San directed.

The students ran to a small shed located to the side of their classroom. Bray followed and was the last to select his sword. It was wooden, longer than what he was used to, and heavier. T'San paired them up. Bray's partner was the boy who had confronted him before class. For the rest of the afternoon, T'San demonstrated offensive and defensive moves and had the pairs practice against each other. Bray received as many hits as he delivered. His arms and shoulder ached by the time they finished, but he was able to hold his own in the free style competition that ended the day, and even managed to block the final stroke his partner attempted after T'San had called for the end of the contest.

That evening Kat rubbed a soothing ointment into his arms and shoulder, as she did the next night, and the next, and the next. Bray never complained; true Nadians never do.

# Chapter 10

"Why do we have to go camping in the winter? Bray heard Ta'Mara ask, as she dropped another armful of wood beside the fire pit. "No one should camp out at this time of year."

"What if you have no choice?" asked T'San.

"How could you not have a choice? The fire hissed as she brushed snow from the hood and shoulders of her cloak. The trees were heavy with snow which rained down on those collecting wood if they failed to move gracefully with the Mother.

"Waycan has a story about that. Ask him," T'San replied, crinkles of mirth showing around the teacher's eyes and mouth.

From beside him Bray heard Shawn snort. "What?" he asked.

"T'San thinks that Waycan will tell a story if Mara asks him."

"Your meaning is not clear," Bray said.

"Waycan had some amazing adventures before he became our shaman and teacher. He was a renowned Traveller. The other teachers always try to get him to tell stories when we are on these excursions even though he claims he would rather not. If fact, they compete with each other to see who can put him into a situation when he will acquiesce. San thinks he has scored a point by having Mara ask."

Waycan entered the circle of firelight carrying a significant armload of firewood; the only evidence of being among the snow laden trees was the snow on his boots. After he had added his wood to the pile, everyone looked at Mara and waited.

"Waycan, why do we have to camp in winter? We know how to live in the woods, and how to hide our tracks. The only thing we are learning now is how to be cold. We could be learning these things in a warm classroom," Mara finished.

"You are here to learn how to survive in the winter. Tomorrow you will all be on your own. San and I will return after a seven-day has passed. You must provide your own food and shelter while we are gone in the same way you did last summer."

"But you teach us to always be prepared for travel. No Tawshe would have to live in these conditions without the proper supplies."

"We never know what the future will hold, Mara. We must be able to survive no matter what task the Mother asks of us."

"Have you ever been out in winter unprepared?" Mara asked.

Waycan looked around the circle of faces lit by the firelight. Night had fallen. San was ladling the stew into bowls and passing them out. He kept his eyes on his task. Waycan remained quiet. San passed him a bowl of stew. The slight smile on his face told Waycan what was happening. He took a few passes at his stew.

"So, it is a story you want," he said finally to the smiling faces. "Okay." He searched the circle until he found the face he wanted. "Do you mind, Shawn?"

Beside Bray, Shawn lowered his eyes. Bray could see that he was searching his emotions. He finally raised his eyes to Waycan's and nodded his approval. The sounds of wooden spoons scrapping the sides of wooden bowls continued.

"I returned from travelling a number of years ago for The Contests and while home I was asked to join my friend T'Ang—Shawn's father—and two others for a scouting mission on the Bearclaw border. Ang and I were close. We grew up together, trained and travelled together before he found Kat and decided to settle down. I had not been home for a long time, so we decided it would be a good way to reconnect. We had once been like brothers.

"The Mother was giving us a warm fall, so we travelled lightly provisioned. Three weeks into the trip we came across evidence of a Bearclaw raiding party. They had attacked a small mining community, killed many and left a few close to death. Ang and the other two went after the raiders. I stayed to help with the injured and then followed them. When I caught up I found disaster; the other two were dead and Ang was missing.

"They had been ambushed. It happened shortly after they left the village. I buried the dead in a crack in the rock and went after Ang. I judged they were three days ahead of me. They crossed back into Bearclaw territory before a day was gone and they moved quickly then. The trail was easier to follow, and I managed to cut their lead to one day before I found the village. You can tell when you are close to a Bearclaw village by the stench of garbage and unwashed bodies. The smell at this one was substantial.

Waycan paused and looked directly at Shawn. "When I managed to get close enough, I found that they had Ang tied to a stake. The Bearclaws are capable of inhumane tortures and they had been practicing on Ang for most of a day. Ang was still alive. I could tell because he screamed when they dug his remaining eye out. My arrow ended his pain."

Bray heard Mara gasp into the silence that followed. She was staring at Shawn who had his head down. There were tears in her eyes.

Waycan continued, "I managed to kill a number of others before I had to run. I reasoned that they would expect me to head back to Tawshe territory, so I went the other way, deeper into their mountains. It worked for a few hours. That night the weather changed and winter began with a fury. They must have picked up my tracks in the snow. I managed to keep a lead for four days because of my winter survival training, but eventually they were close and I knew I had to make a stand. I was climbing through rocks when I found a trail. I could hear the labouring breath of those following by that point as I took to the trail. My enemies were so close that stopping when I passed the two red-stained bear skulls lashed to rocks at the side of the path was out of the question, but those behind me stopped. I took shelter when I realized they were no longer following. A couple of the younger ones wanted to continue the chase, but they were cuffed into changing their minds. They made a small camp and waited. I continued to follow the trail.

"It wrapped around the mountain side before cresting a rise. Below lay a valley floor heavy with evergreens. The trail led into those trees. Something in that valley had stopped the Bearclaws from following me up the trail. What it was, what lay below was a mystery I was reluctant to investigate in my exhaustion, so I ate the last of my jerky, found a spot out of the snow laden wind, and settled to rest. It was an uncomfortable night.

"The next day I descended into the valley to find food and shelter. The snow was less under the trees, so I left the trail and moved into the woods. For a few days I rested, trapped small game, and made arrows. My supply was gone by then. I would make camp under a pine and build a small fire for the night, allowing the smoke to dissipate in the branches then move on the next day. I was able to survive because of training exercises like this." He directed that statement at Mara.

"The valley was a pleasant spot. Sheltered from the winds by the mountains, but it was a high elevation and the weather was cold. I was able to kill smaller game easily, but I needed hides to survive and large game was scarce. I was there for four days before I learned the reason for that.

"On the fourth day I caught a hint of a foul smell. A bear's den I thought. I was making my way towards it when I heard the sound of something heavy moving towards me. Luckily, I was downwind of whatever it was, so I hid and watched. It was like a bear only larger and it walked on two feet. There are many stories about large animals that walk upright like we do. This was the only one I had ever seen and it was large, almost twice my height, covered in fur, and moving quickly. It was carrying something I thought at first was the carcass of a bear until I saw a human arm hanging free. I realized afterwards that it was walking the trail I had abandoned and was returning from outside the valley. I followed its tracks carefully and found the cave it lived in. I only needed to use my nose as I got closer. The lack of larger game and the warnings on the mountain path made sense to me now. I had happened into the territory of something primeval."

"How did you kill it?" Ran asked.

"Why do you think I killed it, Ran? Could I not have simply left the valley or stayed away from the lair?"

"Never leave an enemy at your back. You taught us that. I would have ambushed it and killed it with my sword."

"You are correct. I killed it, but not with my sword. I might have been successful using an ambush and a blade, but the outcome was not certain. Remember, brute strength and fighting are not your only options. You need to think also. It can save your life. But to finish the story, as I said, the beast was gigantic. I fashioned a crossbow and a shaft large enough to do the job. Set it up on the path one night and baited the beast the next morning. I had positioned the weapon a good four or five bow shots from the cave so that the noise I made erecting it would not alert the creature. I underestimated the speed of the thing. It almost caught me before I reached my weapon. I could hear its breathing close behind me as I rounded the last bend in the trail, but the beast stopped when it saw what I had constructed. I slid under the weapon and stood. The beast seemed to be puzzling out what to do. It had to charge my weapon straight on for my plan to work, so I baited it again. It worked. The beast came straight at me and my shaft killed it.

"Now it is time for bed. Enough with stories."

***

Bray watched the wagon taking San, Waycan, and the camping supplies away as it disappeared down the trail. Some students had already moved off into the woods. They were leaving in pairs, one older student from Shawn's class with a younger student from Bray's group. Ran and Mara left and soon only he and Shawn still remained.

"Are you ready, Bray?" Shawn asked as he settled his weapons about his person. Bray nodded. "Then let us be off before Ran comes back and asks to trade partners again. That Mara is a pretty little thing. I may not be able to refuse his offer again."

Bray was sure his brother was teasing him. Shawn's smile said as much, but then again Shawn always smiled. Instead of rising to the bait, Bray posed a question. "Did Waycan's story about your father's death bother you? I ask because of something Waycan told me last month. My grandfather is dead. His death was sudden and leaves questions that the court is not answering. It troubles me. Does Waycan's part in your father's death trouble you?"

Shawn stopped at the edge of the woods and stood quietly for a moment. "It bothered me when I first learned of it, but not anymore. My mother made me realize it was the kindest thing he could have done, and he did return my father's body to us."

"How did he manage that?"

"I will relay that story tonight at our fire, but if we stand talking much longer all the small game will be taken by the others and we will be hungry tonight. I much prefer telling stories on a full stomach. Let's go.'

Shawn broke trail to start. Most of the wet snow from yesterday was off the trees and they were able to stay relatively dry. They chose a direction where no other tracks headed. Over the course of the morning, they heard the sounds of the other's passage, but by midday they were alone. Shawn brought down three squirrels in the late afternoon just before they set up a camp under the branches of an old cedar.

Bray cut boughs and laid them out as underlay to keep their sleeping furs off the cold ground while Shawn prepared a small fire. The roasted squirrel satisfied their hunger and suddenly the day was gone. They were comfortable in their sleeping skins with the smell of crushed cedar strong around them when Bray asked the question that had been nagging at him all day. "How did Waycan manage to bring your father's body back?"

"He never told my mother or me the story, so I do not swear to the truth of it, but Ran's father is on the tribal council. Waycan told them and Ran told me. After he killed the beast he skinned it for the hide, even leaving the head fur attached. When it was ready he left the valley. The Bearclaws must have assumed him dead because there were no guards on the trail. He found the Bearclaw village. My father's body was still hanging where he had died. He waited until night, donned the beasts hide and head. Then he walked in, cut my father's body down and walked off with it."

"He was lucky no one saw him."

"Probably," Shawn said, "but there is another possibility."

"What?"

"No one knows for sure, but the accepted explanation is that the beast had been raiding their villages and others nearby for years, killing and taking bodies away. Someone speculated that this village had left my father's body on the stake hoping that the beast would take it instead of one of their own. They might have sacrificed other captors that way. If a Bearclaw saw Waycan disguised as the beast they must have thought that their plan was working."

"But Waycan had no way of knowing that. Why would he return to the village?"

"I expect he planned to kill them all," Shawn answered. "We should get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Shawn, and thanks for covering my back. I doubt I would have survived being paired with Ran."

# Chapter 11

"Get up, Bray, get up, Games Day has come!"

Lee, his younger sister, was kneeling beside his bed, and pummelling his shoulder with her fists. Even though she was five years younger than his twelve, she was delivering her punches with good force, and they were starting to hurt. "Enough, Lee, just give me a moment."

Bray was awake, had been since the first gray light of dawn started creeping through the window. He was stealing himself against the humiliation he would inevitably feel before this day was over, as he had for the past four years, since he had joined this tribe of the Tawshe Nation.

He had found that the Tawshe loved Games Day, their annual day of competition. Bray not so much, although he admitted it had potential. To compete against the fellows of his grouping, his classmates, in contests of skill, fitness, agility, and strength, should be a day he could enjoy. If only he could manage to win in one of the categories, just one, just one time, but no. T'Ran beat him every year, in every category he entered. How T'Ran had managed to enter the exact same categories as Bray, every year for the last four was a mystery. He did manage it though. Every year T'Ran was there at the final competitions, across from Bray, and beating him every time.

As hard as he trained, he could never manage to best T'Ran, and the beatings he had taken over the years were legendary. T'Ran pounded him mercilessly. He seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on Bray.

The first year Bray excused the loss. He had recovered from his battle wounds only eight months prior to Beating Day, which was how he referred to it in his own head.

With a groan he pushed himself off the bed and stood up, managing to keep his blanket wrapped about him for a moment only, like a layer of armour, before he shrugged it off and folded it with a flurry of graceful moves into a neat pile at the foot of the bed.

Across the room he saw Shawn, his only male friend, sitting on his own bed, watching.

"What?" Bray immediately regretted the tone of his voice.

Shawn let a smile build on his face. Bray could not help himself, as his own smile mirrored Shawn's. His brother knew how much Bray hated this day. He was two years older than Bray; he was the same age as T'Ran in fact. They were in the same training class. Bray was one class behind them in school, but they all completed together. Always had and always would until the older boys graduated as _trueones._

Four more years of The Games to suffer through. This one and four more humiliations to be faced followed by two peaceful years while Bray finished his own training. Then home to Nadia.

A _trueone_ chooses his own path and Bray's path was Nadia. He would return to his family's city. He would return as the lost Crown Prince and take up his royal duties, as soon as he found and retrieved his father's swords, of course. The swords must be recovered first. He had promised his father on the day he had been murdered. His last pledge to the man he loved. He would retrieve the swords and return them to the family. But that was six years away and today was Beating Day.

Bray pulled his leathers from the boot box at the foot of his bed. He should have taken them out the night before and lay them between the mattresses to warm them up, but he had refused. Doing that would have meant accepting that Beating Day had come again. He had put that realization off for as long as possible, until this very moment, actually.

Bray shook his leathers out and struggled into them, the coolness of the outfit causing him to jog in place to warm up. The jogging also served to settle the leathers into place as his body warmth seeped into the thick hide. Fighting leathers were thick leather suits that combatants wore below their armour. Not that the Tawshe used much armour.

Some warriors possessed mail shirts, but these were rarely seen in the village except at The Contests, the adult version of competitions held on Games Day when Travellers returned to the villages on mass. Groups of Travellers passed through all year long, but only in troops and caravans, not with the numbers seen at The Contests.

Tawshe _trueones,_ who were Travellers, roamed the roads and water-ways of all lands that touched the lakes, mostly as merchants or entertainers, and sometimes as individuals or as couples. No matter what the occupation, they all gathered information that was reported back to the village Shaman and onwards to the Tawshe council.

The Tawshe were in fact a nation obsessed with understanding what was happening in the world. Often they shared information with other nations, but only when it strengthened their own position. Bray had not understood the true nature of Travellers until Waycan had explained it to the class this year.

"Information is our greatest commodity," he had said. "We trade it in the same way we trade our skills and our crafts. But remember, it is our secret."

He did not have to explain what a secret meant to the Tawshe. No outsider knew that the Travellers were Tawshe. As far as almost everyone else was concerned, the Tawshe were a primitive, cannibalistic people who killed everyone who entered their lands, and were never seen outside of them.

Putting aside his dislike of the beatings he inevitably suffered, there were aspects of Game Day that Bray enjoyed. How could he not? It was a festival, with markets, food tents, contests, and scores of interesting people. He found the Traveller entertainment troupes—musicians, jugglers, stage performers, acrobats, fortune tellers, story tellers, and poets—fun to watch. Their acts were always fresh and interesting. Between contests he did his best to visit as many as possible before his movements became too painful, which usually happened after a few bouts against Ran.

This year he had chosen archery, swordplay and, of course, the final foot race. Everyone tried to run in the final race, but only those who evaded injury in the competitions actually managed to compete. Bray had started in the race twice in his four years. He'd never finished. He always ran afoul of one of Ran's attacks during the race, usually as soon as they were out of sight of the spectators.

A rchery was safe. No physical contact. Swordplay was a different matter. Wooden practice swords were used and contestants wore a single metal gauntlet on their shield arm, but against Ran it was never enough. Bray had never been good enough to evade Ran's sword strokes. Waycan had told him once that it was better to face a superior swordsman in practice than in a real battle, but that information did not help. Especially when Ran always managed to beat him black and blue before the match was over.

S till swordplay, with its few protective accoutrements, was better than hand-to-hand. Ran always bested him at hand-to-hand, after beating a few of his muscles into aching, useless, pieces of meat. Calf muscles were his favorite target.

***

Dressed in his boots and leathers, carrying his leather gauntlets and greaves and the hardened couters that protected his elbows, Bray made his way towards his chair in the kitchen.

"Catch," Shawn cried, tossing two warm muffins towards Bray as he entered the room. Though burdened with his armour, Bray managed to snatch first one and then the other from the air.

" I told you, Shawn, Bray is too fast for two. I think he could manage three or even four. Next time throw _your_ two muffins also," Lee said from her seat at the table. Bray joined her there after placing his armour by the porch door.

" But is he fast enough? That is the question," Shawn orated. "Will our brave brother finally beat the dreaded Ran? Ran, who others call hero, or so he tells us. Despite the fact that Bray does not see Ran lit by the light of admiration as others do, you have to admit, the boy is magnificent. Waycan told me that Ran is really the physical embodiment of a hero. He stands above the rest. He is one of those warriors who rarely grace us, mere mortals, with their company. I believe he is destined for greatness."

"And unfortunately so does Ran. He believes his admirers completely. I hate him and he hates me. Just leave it like that, and stop reminding me of his physical prowess, thank you," Bray said around a mouthful of muffin.

"You will beat him this year, Bray, I know you will," Lee insisted. Bray smiled at her, while wondering if she meant what she said, or was simply trying to return the talk to a subject she understood.

"She's right you know, little brother. You can beat him. I have fought both of you. You are faster."

Bray concentrated on eating. Waycan had told him the same thing.

"Believe in yourself," he had told him. "Rely on your speed. It is through your speed that you will be victorious."

Bray found it difficult to believe he would ever beat T'Ran, who had set the standard for their encounters from the beginning. T'Ran had continued to torment Bray whenever possible after their encounter during the first month of his life with the Tawshe.

# Chapter 12

Ran dropped his armour at the door before taking his seat at the table. His father was gnawing on a bone from last night's meal. Ran grabbed the last piece from the platter and mirrored his father's actions. Father and son were a lot alike. Both were big men, although Ran was more striking to look at, a combination of his father's bulk with his mother's grace and beauty. At fourteen years, Ran showed promise of being as fearsome a warrior as his father, if not more so. He was big, fast, smart, and a natural leader. He was liked by all the other children, and he got along with all of them, except for Bray. He hated the outsider.

Four years ago, when Bray had arrived, Ran's father had argued long and hard against allowing the boy to live. He was an outsider, a Nadian of all things, and therefore, by rule of law, should be killed. It was the Tawshe way, he had argued. The Nadian's presence would diminish the tribe. He would corrupt their children. But Waycan had overruled his arguments and sided with Ta'Kat.

Ran believed every word his father said about the danger of letting Bray stay, and had done his best ever since to show the rest of the tribe the error in their decision. Ran smiled to think of some of the beatings he had given Bray over the years.

"Looking forward to Game Day, son?" his father asked.

Ran answered him with a sly smile that his father returned. For years they had worked together to position Ran against the Nadian intruder in the competitions. His father's trusted position on the Game Day planning committee allowed them to always know which contests the Nadian chose to enter, and to position Ran against him.

This year was no different, although the choice of archery did not hold as much promise for inflicting pain, as did swordplay and the final race. Not that Ran expected Bray to make it into the race. He had broken eight practice swords in the last month alone. His strength had increased tremendously over the last half year, and he planned to use it without mercy on the Nadian. This year he would break bones as well as inflict bruises.

R an did not doubt that he would beat Bray. He felt it was his duty. The Tawshe were the best warriors in the world. He believed that with all his heart. The Nadian would not stand a chance against any Tawshe if he had not been trained in the Tawshe way, but because of his training he could beat most of the others now, at least those in his own class and even some in Ran's class. Bray was good, but not good enough to beat the best, and Ran was the best.

***

Ran and Shawn circled each other, swords ready and eyes searching. Their bout had been going on for longer than any other Ran had fought this day, but that was to be expected. Shawn was the second best swordsman in his class, second to Ran only. They had both scored four points. The next would decide the bout, but Ran could not get past Shawn's defense. It was a move Ran had never seen his classmate use before, and it was proving effective. Shawn had a trickle of blood running down his cheek where a piece from a splintered sword had struck, but he still wore that blasted smile of his.

Shawn's smile was infectious. He seemed to wear it all the time. It was one of the reasons he was liked so much by everyone in the village, but right now it was grating on Ran. He wanted to finish this bout and move on to the Nadian who he could see standing on the sidelines. Ran tried another attack only to be beaten by the same defensive move, but he saw something that had changed. Shawn must be getting tired or over-confident. He had slipped, using a defective move that Ran had seen many times before in their practice bouts. Shawn had worked hard to break himself of the habit, but there it was, the old shoulder drop that opened him to defeat. Ran attacked again. This time Shawn failed to block. The victory was Ran's.

***

"Ready for some pain, Nadian?" Ran asked with a sneer on his face. His friends on the sidelines cheered and jeered the question. Bray didn't answer.

The referee called them to the centre of the ring. Ran did not listen to the instructions. He had heard them many times before, including the warning about using excessive force. That one Ran planned to break, repeatedly.

"Guard," shouted the referee. Both boys brought their swords up. "Engage."

Ran attacked with a blistering stroke towards Bray's shield arm instead of his weapon. Both contestants wore band-shields which were metal cylinders that covered their shield arms. In battle, band-shields were worn by archers who could not wear the larger shields used by swordsmen, but needed something for when they were engaging enemy swordsmen. Ran's blow had enough force behind it to numb Bray's arm even with the protection of the band, if it had connected.

Much to Ran's surprise, instead of throwing his arm up and taking the blow directly, Bray seemed to float off to the side. The force of his blow carried Ran's sword too low to parry Bray's answering thrust. Ran felt a tap against his upper sword arm as the referee shouted "Point."

The little Nadian is getting faster, but one good hit will slow him down.

Ran concentrated his efforts on Bray's sword arm, trying to pass his defenses by force alone, but Bray stopped each attack with fast decisive moves that resulted in Ran's strokes being deflected harmlessly away, or in many cases missing completely, as Bray continued to move, always moving, never still.

The misses were the worst. His friends groaned over the first few, but then they started to laugh. Ran did not like being laughed at. He increased the fury of his attacks, but the only result was another three points for Bray. Ran did not even feel the last touch, but he heard the point called and it sobered him. One more point would win the match for Bray.

Ran's anger slipped away leaving cold determination. His mind grew quiet. Distractions disappeared, as Ran of the Tawshe set his concentration on sword work and on his opponent.

Bray met every attack with quick defensive moves. He never attacked, but his sword was always there to block Ran's thrusts. Ran finally scored a point with a glancing strike to Bray's leg when he spun away too slowly, although Ran's opinion that Bray was tiring proved not to be true. The match progressed. Try as he could, Ran could not pass Bray's lightning fast counter-strokes again.

Ran knew he was getting tired. He had no idea how long the match had been going on, but his own arms were beginning to feel the effect. Bray, two years younger and quite a bit smaller, must be feeling it even worse. He would slip up soon, Ran knew, all he had to do was wait.

As if in answer to his thoughts, he saw Bray fail to recover fully after his next attack, and then again soon after. His elbow was staying too low, leaving an opening Ran could take advantage of. With infinite patience Ran planned the stroke combination that would score his next point. He waited. Bray's elbow refused to cooperate during his next three attacks, but then it happened. Ran was ready. Instead of continuing his recovery to a defensive position, he lunged forward. Bray's countering move was almost too quick to follow. Somehow he was inside Ran's guard, his shield arm moving forward and up to place a solid elbow strike across Ran's exposed throat. Bray's rounded practice couter barely grazed his neck, but in combat the couter was not rounded. It was a sharpened, spiked weapon. In combat, Ran would be dead.

"Point," the referee called.

# Chapter 13

Shawn, Bray and Lee walked slowly along the road. Autumn was drawing golds and reds from the leaves, and a hint of winter was in the air. It was their first school day since The Games. The excitement was over until next year, but none of them felt like getting back into the grind of the classroom.

"And then I shot ahead of her, just like you told me to, and won," Lee was saying.

Shawn had been hearing the same victory story for three days now. He wasn't listening, just nodding, with a smile pasted on his face. Something had happened at The Games that he could not seem to get out of his mind. After his sword contest with Ran, even though he had lost, Mara had taken him aside to congratulate him on a fine match. She had kissed him, right on the lips... not a sister's kiss... oh definitely not a sister's kiss, and he was at a loss about what to do.

He liked her. He was happy she had kissed him; in fact his thoughts had been on nothing else for the last three days. But what was he supposed to do? Should he talk to her when he saw her at school? Would she kiss him again?

"Shawn, answer me!" Lee shouted. She looked angry. Bray looked amused. Shawn had told him about the kiss, but he had not offered any ideas worth considering.

"I'm sorry, Lee. I was lost in thought. What did you say?"

"I said, do you think I will beat her next year, too?"

"Of course you will."

"I think so, too. If I—" and off she went again.

He looked over at Bray who was walking on the other side of Lee. His brother was smiling at him. Shawn decided to ignore him. He was just about to turn away when Bray made the 'be aware, ahead' hand signal after turning his face forward. Shawn followed his example. There, standing at the side of the school building, watching his approach, was Mara. She smiled. Shawn stopped walking. His mouth went dry and his heart started to beat loudly. Bray laughed.

"Don't worry, brother. Your legs are longer. You can outrun her."

"Outrun who? Why did you stop, Shawn? Is someone after you?" Lee asked, giving him a concerned look as she glanced around. "Oh, there's Mara. She probably hasn't heard how I won the race. I'm going to tell her. Come on, Shawn, you can talk to her too. You'll like her. She's really nice," Lee said as she grabbed his hand and started pulling him forward. He could hear Bray snorting with laughter as his sister pulled him away.

M ost Tawshe have black or brown hair which they wear long and pulled back or braided, but Mara was different. Her hair was short and it was the colour of sunshine. Shawn noticed the little curls that covered her head as Lee pulled him up to her. _They are like a crown of sunlight_ , stole into his head and the thought would not leave. He realized he was staring at her hair, so he looked at her face. She smiled. Shawn stared at her mouth. She was saying something, but he could not make out the words over the pounding of his heart. Suddenly, Lee was pulling his arm, then again, and again.

"Shawn, you should have told me?"

"Told you what?"

"Told her about us, Shawn," Mara said.

Shawn had no idea what was happening, or what she meant, but thankfully Mara explained.

"Lee went to introduce us, so I told her we already knew each other, and explained that you were my betrothed."

Shawn's smile slipped from his face, and then it returned, brighter than ever.

# Chapter 14

Ran watched Bray carefully. This was their last wrestling session, his last Games as a youth, and he was determined to win this bout. For the last three years he had trained harder than ever before. He had always been good, he knew that, and that knowledge had allowed him to be lazy with his training during his younger years. None of his classmates could beat him, and few of the adults could by the time he was fourteen years, but then Bray had bested him at swords.

Ran allowed himself to believe the first time was luck on Bray's part, but the next year Bray had beat him with the sword again, and also in the foot race. He had realized then that he had to train harder. A beating by his father had punctuated his conclusion. At the next Games, he had won both contests but lost the foot race. He had trained even harder still, but last year, his father's information about which contests Bray entered had turned out to be false. The old man claimed that Bray must have changed his selection at the last moment, but Ran had his own suspicions. He believed his father had not wanted to face the embarrassment of having Bray beat him again. Not that Ran was embarrassed by losing to him. The Nadian was one of the fastest and best fighters Ran had ever encountered. He still hated him, but now he also respected him, and out of respect he watched him carefully as they circled each other.

Ran opened with a sweeping kick he had been practicing in private for months. It started as a normal low leg sweep, but it ended differently. Instead of swinging all the way around in a circle to return to his feet, his lower leg hit the ground as he flipped from being supported on one arm to being supported by the other arm. Bray was still in the air from his leap over the low sweep. Ran used the momentum from flipping to drive a leg forward in a second attack. It worked almost as planned. Bray was twisting in the air, and Ran's kick caught him in the ribs instead of the back. Everyone heard the ribs break. The bout was over. Ran had won.

People rushed in to congratulate him while Bray was sprawled out on the ground. Then the Nadian was there in front of Ran, holding his side, looking white from the pain, but standing none the less and offering his hand in congratulations.

"That was the best move I have ever seen, Ran. Congratulations. Maybe you would teach it to me sometime."

His classmates in the crowd picked up on that, "Teach me." "Me too." "And me," they were all shouting. Ran lost sight of Bray again. _Destroyer take him,_ was Ran's thought as he was swept away by the crowd.

Ran won the foot race later that day. Bray was unable to run because of his broken ribs, and no one else could catch him. Running freely with the rest of the racers behind him, he thought about what came next.

Ran had no worries about his manhood testing. He could make the weapons necessary from the raw materials he could find. He had excelled in that training, as he had excelled in languages, history, geography, and the crafts of war. In another month he would take his place as a Tawshe _trueone_. He was looking forward to it. Finally, the Nadian thorn in his side would be gone. He was reasonably sure that Bray would leave the tribe after his manhood trial in two years. Bray considered himself to be a Nadian, so good riddance to him. Ran would forget about him forever. He had won their last contest. He, T'Ran, would prove himself to be the best Tawshe warrior ever.

# Chapter 15

"Is that the same place Ran broke your ribs years ago?" Lee asked as Bray entered the cooking area of the cabin.

It was a few days after The Games, but they were both still recovering.

"Is that the same wrist you broke last year?" Bray countered.

"I tripped."

"You are clumsy."

"I am not."

"You are, but so are most youths of eleven years. Shawn could not walk across this room without tripping on something when he was your age. Remember the time he fell on the Hob chair and broke it?" Laughing, they both looked towards the stone hearth where the Hob chair was always located. Both stopped to stare. The chair was occupied.

Most people who live in areas where Hobs frequent, including all the Tawshe, leave a small child-size chair at the side of the fireplace to accommodate the little people. It is called the Hob chair, but it is really for Brownies because Hobs who live indoors are actually Brownies. Only Hobs that live outdoors are called Hobs even though they are the same as Brownies, but no one mentions that fact for fear of what would happen if a Brownie was to be offended.

In the eight years Bray had lived with Lee and her family, he had never seen a Brownie in the Hob chair. From the expression on Lee's face he concluded that it was a new occurrence for her also.

"It looks sad, Bray. What should we do?"

"Leave it alone," Bray cautioned. Lee was correct, the Brownie did look sad. Its head was dipped forward showing more of the curly green hair than the face. Bray wondered how the Hob could manage to not be seen at other times in the confines of the small cabin. The Hob lifted its head to stare at them. Its green eyes were red rimed in a round brown face and framed by mutton chop whiskers.

"No, ignoring it would be rude," Lee stated. "It would not be there if something were not amiss. I am going to talk to it."

Bray considered stopping her, but her logic made sense, so he only nodded. She got to her feet and walked slowly towards the chair. The Brownie stood up as she got closer. Lee was a little tall for eleven years, so the Brownie's head was level with her chest. Bray estimated it would be as tall as his waist. The multi-colours of the little person's outfit made the cabin look brighter. It wore high red leather boots, blue trousers, and a yellow shirt topped with a long vest of vivid green.

"Hello, my name is Lee," she announced, "and this is my brother Bray. Is there something we can do for you?"

"Hello Lee, Bray. My name is Runswick. I am sorry if I disturbed you."

"You are not disturbing us. That chair is there for your use. It means you are always welcome in our home. But you look sad. Is there something we can do for you? Would some porridge make you feel better? We have honey."

"Porridge with honey would be nice, if it is not too much trouble."

"It will not be any trouble at all. Mother made it for us before she left. My brother will get it ready, right Bray?"

While Bray dished out the porridge Lee chatted easily with the Brownie. "Bray and I are not usually home at this time. We attend school, but we were both injured in The Games. I tripped and sprained my wrist. Bray was beaten by Ran in a wrestling match."

"Ah yes, everyone knows about the animosity between those two. It is legendary," Runswick told her.

"Why don't we sit by the fire?" Bray said as he carried three steaming bowls over. Runswick accepted the food and sat down into his chair. Lee and Bray folded into cross-legged positions on the floor beside him. They concentrated on their porridge until the bowls were scraped clean.

"Well, that breakfast certainly is sitting comfortably," Lee admitted as she patted her belly. "How about you, Runswick, are you feeling better?"

"Somewhat. I admit porridge does have a salutary influence. Thank you."

"Now will you tell us why you are sad?"

Runswick considered both of their faces. "As you wish. My mate went to visit her family at a village not far from here. When she did not return at the appointed time, I went there as well, but I could not enter. A goblin has taken up residence in the village, and will not allow anyone to leave or enter."

"What kind of goblin?" Bray asked.

"A Hob-goblin."

"I understood Hob-goblins to be tricksters. Is this some type of joke it is playing?" Lee asked.

"No, it is the sickness. You see, goblins are another branch of Fey. They are an aberration that happens occasionally for reasons we do not truly understand. There exists a story that suggests it is a curse laid by a powerful witch on a Hob and his family because of something he did to anger her. Whatever the cause, it happens. A Hob will be perfectly normal for many years, but then suddenly his behavior will change. It starts with small things at first, simple tricks, which become progressively more hurtful. That is the stage we refer to as Hob-goblin. They usually leave the village before they become full goblins. Sometimes they return. I believe that is what has happened, or perhaps the physical change has occurred faster than normally, and the village has been caught unprepared."

"What is the physical change?" Bray inquired.

"They become larger, stronger, and malformed."

"How large is the one at the village?"

"I did not see it, so I cannot answer your question, but given the time involved I estimate it will be Lee's size."

"We should go and force it to leave," Lee suggested.

"I think we should talk to Waycan first."

"Waycan is too busy entertaining visiting Travellers to bother with a little thing like this. Even with your broken rib you should be able to handle a goblin my size, and I will be there to help. You will not even have to swing a sword if you take a spear with you. Just poke at it until it leaves."

"You make it sound easy."

"It will be, and we will be doing Runswick and his family a service."

Bray agreed reluctantly. He grabbed up a spear, and they went outside. Runswick led them onto the trail. The walk to the Hob village was interesting. Bray and Lee were both sure they had travelled the path before, but this time something had changed. New turns took them along unfamiliar pathways until they arrived at a bridge over a substantial stream. The bridge was blocked by a large pile of Hob-size furniture.

"I may not be a great deal of help clearing that," Lee admitted holding forth her bandaged wrist.

"May I heal your injuries for you?" Runswick asked.

"That would be helpful. Will you do Bray's ribs also?"

"Yes, of course."

Runswick placed his small hands on Lee's wrist. She felt a tingling sensation after a few moments, and then the ache in her arm disappeared. When the hob removed his hands, she was able to rotate her wrist fully without discomfort. He administered to Bray next.

"I have strengthened the bones for both of you. They were weak from the repeated injuries. The change will eventually spread to all your bones making them stronger. It will also affect your muscles. You will gain strength and become faster. I hope you do not mind."

"I like it," Lee assured him. "I feel stronger already!"

"It will take more time than that, Lee."

"I hope it makes you a better cook, too," Bray joked.

Lee's fist shot out and landed on his arm. "Ha, not so hard," Bray said while rubbing his upper arm. "Save it for the furniture."

The three of them started moving furniture to open a pathway through the pile. It was not long before they could squeeze through. They had stepped off the other end of the bridge when they saw the goblin charging towards them.

"He must be growing faster than I thought," Lee heard Runswick say.

"Go back across the bridge, you two," Bray commanded as he moved forward. Lee and Runswick stayed where they were.

The goblin was a full two heads taller than Bray. It had massive shoulders and arms that hung almost to the ground. Its legs appeared to be the same length as Runswick's, which caused it to use its long arms to swing itself along. It roared and spewed saliva as it charged. And it reeked, Lee realized, as an odor of rotten fruit assailed her nostrils.

Lee pulled her knife from its sheath. She had gotten Bray into this and would not abandon him. Beside her, Runswick did the same. She expected Bray to throw the spear but he kept it in his hands. As the goblin came up to the extended spear, it tried to knock it away with a sweep of one arm. Bray allowed the spear point to drop below the sweep and then flicked it back up and forward, catching the beast on its bulbous nose. The goblin screamed in rage and pain. It swung at the offending spear two more times with the same results before it stepped back. Lee saw reason replace the rage on its face as it looked past Bray at her and Runswick. It swung itself backwards a number of times and then charging forward again. Before it reached the spear point, it gave a mighty leap that carried it above Bray and the spear. As it left the ground Bray flung the spear upwards. It tore into the goblin's stomach. When the beast landed, the extended end of the spear struck the ground and shattered, but not before driving the point deeper into the body. The goblin's charge faltered.

Bray, now with his knife in hand, sprang onto the monster's back. The goblin reared up, trying to reach him with its long arms while Bray drove his knife into the back of its neck repeatedly. Lee jumped forward at the same time Runswick did. She drove her knife in beside the goblin's groin aiming for the large artery she had been taught was there. Runswick sprang at the goblin's face, and with both hands wrapped around the handle of his knife, he drove it into an eye before twisting his body away in a graceful summersault to the side.

The goblin stopped screaming. It stood frozen, motionless, with arms up, and mouth open before it started to fall forward. Lee was trying to pull her knife free when Runswick yanked her out of the way of the collapsing beast.

Bray was at her side a few moments later as she sprawled in the dirt. "Are you okay?"

Lee stared at the goblin for a few moments. "Yes, but my knife is under there," she responded pointing at the dead body.

Bray started to laugh.

# Chapter 16

Waycan studied Lee and Bray as they sat across from him. They had returned to school a few days before, much sooner than he had expected. He had been suspicious, but now he understood.

"How is your wrist, Lee?"

She held the wrist up and twirled it round. "It is all better, now."

"And how are the ribs, Bray?"

"Mended."

"You believe they are mended, or you know they are mended?"

Bray and Lee looked at each other.

"I told no one," Lee said.

"We know they are mended," Bray admitted. "We did not want to worry Kat. That is why we kept it a secret."

"That was probably wise, but you should have told me."

"Yes, Waycan," they both responded.

"How did you find out?" Lee blurted.

Waycan smiled. "Do you think you are the only ones who talk to Hobs? It sounded like a close call though. You should have been more prepared, Bray."

"I will know better next time," the boy responded.

"Yes, it is best to be cautious with the little people. They may have the best intentions, but they also have their own way of thinking and doing things. I believe I have mentioned this in class, have I not?"

Both nodded. "But Runswick needed our help," Lee explained, "and we were not hurt by the goblin."

"You were not hurt, but you were changed."

Lee looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you are talking about how Runswick healed our injuries. It was not much of a change."

"So far, you mean. It was magic, Lee. I believe Runswick explained to both of you that it will continue to change you. You will become stronger and faster, and we have to decide how to deal with it. For Bray it will not be bad. He is ready to undertake his specialized weapons training, but with you, young woman, we may have a problem. You are only eleven years. It will be another five years before you should undertake specialized training. Now, with enhanced abilities you could hurt your sparing partners at school."

"Perhaps I could not work as hard."

"That is a possibility, but not an appropriate one. I have a better option. Bray will be training with a special instructor for two days in every seven. I want you to join him. At other times you will have to ease up as you suggested. Make sure you do not harm any of your classmates.

"Your instructor will be here on the last two days of the school week. I will make sure you are excused from classes, Lee. Bray, you will assist me with weapon's instructions with your class. Your competition with Ran has already made you better than all of them. Have you chosen the weapon you will specialize with?"

"No, not yet."

"Then I would like to make a suggestion." Waycan arose and went to a chest along the back wall. He returned with a bundle wrapped in a fine red cloth.

"It is time to return these to you," he said as he lay the bundle down and removed the cloth cover revealing the two Nadian daggers Bray had used for swords as a child. "I think you should specialize with these."

Bray knew immediately that Waycan spoke the truth. He felt the affinity he had with the knives. Nadian blades were said to contain magic. Bray could feel it reaching out to him. The blades were sheathed in a wide belt which Bray did not remember. With the buckle at the front the blades would be held in a horizontal position on his back with each handle pointing in the opposite direction. One handle available to each hand.

"They look much shorter then I remember, and I do not remember the belt."

"That is because the belt is new. I had it made for you. How long do you think the knives are?"

"They look to be as long as my forearm, but I remember them being longer."

"Pull one," Waycan suggested.

The knife grew at least a hand's span as it was drawn from the sheath.

"The Hobs made the sheaths and added a little magic, but refused to accept payment from me, in appreciation for what you did for Runswick and his family," Waycan informed him.

"Did they make a present for me too?" Lee asked.

"Not yet, but they will. You have to wait until you are old enough for specialty training and make your choice before you receive it."

"But I will be training with Bray as he does his specialty training. I should receive my present now also."

"You still have much to learn before you specialize. Have patience, youngster, your day will come. Now, one last thing before you head back to class. Your instructor would like to meet you both."

As if on cue the door to the hallway opened and a woman stepped into Waycan's small office. There was some grey showing in her brown hair, but she was still impressive. There was a vitality about her that could not be denied. She was as tall as Bray and was dressed in a short leather jerkin belted at the waist that left her legs exposed. They were her most striking feature for they bulged with muscles.

"Ta'Chen, allow me to introduce Bray and Ta'Lee, your new students. Young people, I am pleased to present Ta'Chen the renowned dancer."

"A dancer? I thought I was to receive weapons training, not dance instructions."

"I will teach you the body movements that are required to become a master," Chen answered.

"No offence, mistress, but I already know how to move," Bray answered.

"Show me," she countered. When Bray failed to move she prompted him again. "Hit me," she ordered.

"It is too close in here, we should go outside."

"No, this will be fine. Hit me."

Bray looked to Waycan for instruction but received nothing in response, so he snapped a straight left jab at the woman's head. He missed. Chen shifted ever so slightly and his fist flew past her head.

"A little more speed is needed. Try again," Chen commanded.

Bray threw a combination left-right towards her body. Again she shifted. Again he missed, but while his right arm was extended Chen's hand brushed it and he stumbled forward, landing on the floor.

Chen turned to Waycan. "I see what you mean. He has speed and strength, but his balance is all wrong. Still he displays promise. He could be a master if he can learn to dance."

# Chapter 17

"Show us the money first, big talker," the woman said.

Baragarden slipped his hand into his pouch and pulled out the two coins he had enchanted earlier. They looked to have more value than their true worth.

"Big pay for big women," he said.

These two were the largest women he had come across on the Street of Pleasure. Both were heavy with fleshy faces, large bosoms, and ample buttocks. They looked even bigger beside his scrawny body as he walked them up the street to the small room he was renting. He only hoped they had the quantity of blood he needed. After this deed, he would have to move on to another town regardless of the success here tonight. This was the dingiest part of town inhabited by the lowest of the population, but regardless, after he finished with his plan his life would be forfeit if he was captured.

"A real dandy," the one with visible black roots said as he motioned them to enter before him. It was the last thing they said. As he closed the door, he uttered the controlling spell he had worked out. Both women stopped moving, frozen like stone.

With a hand on the shoulder of the one he called black roots; he walked her sideways off the rug that covered the floor. He moved the other woman to the far side of the rug using the same hand-on-shoulder control. Then he rolled back the floor covering, revealing the complex pattern he had painted.

Around a central circle he had drawn an eight-pointed star. The four longest points were located precisely on the four quarter positions of a navigation bowl. All four points ended in circles containing magical symbols of power. The smaller star points were located between the larger ones. Each of those ended in a drawing of a phase of the moon—full, waning, waxing, and new. The complete design was enclosed in another circle that touched the apexes of the larger star points, but left the circles containing the power symbols outside its perimeter.

Baragarden now positioned the two women within the power circles located across from each other at the north and south poles of the star. He forced them to kneel, and then bound them with their hands tied behind them to their feet. He gagged each one and added a leather strap around their heads which he then tied to their feet, after pulling their heads back to expose their throats. When everything was the way he wanted he released the binding spell. The women struggled but were unable to move.

The wizard consulted a scroll for some time then, positioning himself within the largest circle, he began to chant. Mantis-like, he progressed around the inside perimeter of the circle, four circuits one way, and then four the other, timing each circuit to a stanza of the spell. With one stanza left he was positioned at the circle containing the black-rooted woman.

The woman's eyes were alive with hatred, which turned to fear as he pulled the sacrificial dagger from beneath his robe. He intoned the first two lines of the last stanza before he cut her throat. As her blood flowed into the circle, he advanced at the same measured pace around the perimeter finishing the last two lines of the stanza as he reached the second women. He cut her throat on the last word, turned to face the centre, and spoke a word of power.

Within the central circle a stygian blackness grew. It sucked the daylight into itself until the room was cast in twilight pallor. A sound started softly, building to gale-like intensity. Far away he heard what he thought was screaming. It continued for only a moment, and then, with a popping sound, everything returned to normal. Something dropped into the centre of the circle.

When Baragarden sensed that the gathered forces had dissipated, he retrieved the item that had appeared. It looked like a bloody piece of hide about the size of his outstretched hand sitting on an equally bloody piece of linen. When he picked it up and cleaned it off, he found that hide was an appropriate term. The thing was covered in interlocking, six-sided scales. He smiled. He may have failed to bring something significant across, but he felt he was headed in the right direction.

Moving quickly, Baragarden packed up his possessions. He had to be away from this town before the bodies were discovered. He wrapped the hide and placed it into his pack. It might be used to enhance the spell, he thought as he slipped out the door, and he definitely needed more blood.

# Chapter 18

"Father, Mother," Mearisdeana called as she charged through the front door of her parent's home. "Come and see what I have grown." She shed her cloak and allowed her _dayskin_ to fade away.

Her father, Aharadeana, came into the entrance way from his office. Her mother, Clarisdeana, entered from the kitchen wearing an apron. Mearisdeana held the item out for their inspection.

"What is it?" her mother asked.

"The texts refer to it as... carrot. There are seeds stored at the university, but none have grown here on KaAn for many years. I grew it in filtered light in an enclosure at the agriculture school. It is an edible root."

Her father reached an arm around her and gave her a hug, "That is wonderful. We can cut it up and have it with dinner."

"Is it safe to eat?" her mother asked.

"Perfectly safe, Mother, the text said that people would skin it first, so I will help you prepare it." The doorbell chimed as they moved into the kitchen.

Mearisdeana pealed the carrot by scraping it with a knife. She cut a small slice and tasted it.

"What is it like?" her mother asked.

"It's crunchy and... fresh. I suppose that is the best way to describe it."

Just then her father called from the entrance way.

"You go, Mother. I will finish the preparations,"

"Everything is ready except for your... thing."

"Carrot, mother, it is a carrot."

Her mother removed her apron and left the kitchen. As Mearisdeana continued to slice the carrot she half listened to the conversation from the other room. The visitor was introduced. He had a message for her father in his capacity as headman of the town. It must be a written message for she heard the rustle of foil, and then her father assured the man that he would have the message circulated.

"We are about to take our morning meal. Please stay and share it with us," she heard her mother say. "You do not want to be out in the sun, surely."

"Yes, please," her father added as Mearisdeana finished her cutting and moved to enter the room.

"Thank you for the offer, but I must not tarry," the man said as Mearisdeana entered.

He wore riding gloves and a long cloak with the hood up, so his features were hidden from her. In fact all she could see was the sparkle of his eyes set back in the shadow of the hood as he glanced towards her.

"Then again, I have been riding since moonrise last eve. Something other than trail rations would be a pleasant change."

The man proceeded to remove his gloves and then his cloak. As his features became visible, Mearisdeana almost choked as she gulped air. He was a powerful figure even in his _nightskin._ Wide shoulders, a broad chest, and a thick neck gave the impression of great strength. His waist was thin, his legs were muscular, and he possessed the most handsome features. Mearisdeana had seen his countenance many times. An older version of this face, the king's face, was stamped on every coin in the realm. Mearisdeana suddenly remembered the half heard introduction. Adamtay, Prince Adamtay, the king's son.

Her father was speaking. "Your highness, allow me to introduce our daughter, Mearisdeana. She is an agriculture researcher at the university, and today she brought home a treat for our meal. What did you say it was called, Mearisdeana?"

Her mind refused to find an answer. It was stuck on those gorgeous blue eyes. For what seemed like an eternity she stood there basking in their warm glow before she shook herself mentally—at least she hoped it was mentally.

"Carrot," she blurted. Then in a more controlled voice, "It is called a carrot, Father." She sank into an awkward curtsy, "I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness."

"Please call me Adamtay," he responded as he stepped forward and raised her back to her feet. "A researcher, you must tell me all about your work. I have always wondered how we can grow anything under KaAn's blazing sun. It seems to be getting hotter every year."

Now on familiar ground, Mearisdeana explained her research to the prince while the table was set. Her father brought a bottle of water to the table in honour of their royal guest. Mearisdeana knew it was a treasure he had been hording for a very special occasion. The prince did not comment on the water, but he did praise the carrot.

While they ate, Mearisdeana talked about her research. During a lull in her dissertation Ahardeana changed the subject.

"Adamtay has informed me about some strange occurrences that are happening throughout the realm. People have reported disturbances, like tiny cyclones, suddenly springing into existence."

"Do you think it is a weather phenomenon," Mearisdeana asked.

"It may be. We do not have enough evidence at this time to understand them. What we realized after the last occurrence is that they always happen in the vicinity of young females. The last one injured a woman. It seemed to try to pull her in, but it was so small that it ended up tearing a patch of skin from her back."

"That is terrible. She should have changed to her _dayskin_ ," Mearisdeana's mother offered.

"She did. It tore a section of her _dayskin_ right off." Silence settled around the table as the family tried to fathom the force required to do that.

"My father has sent out messengers to all areas of the realm to warn people about this. We want everyone to be vigilant around their daughters. These things seem to be getting larger and stronger. Now, I must be on my way. I have three more days of travel before heading back to the capital."

The family saw the prince to the door where he donned his cloak and gloves. He turned back to Mearisdeana's father before leaving. "Please get the message out to your people as soon as possible, and be particularly vigilant in your own home. We would not want anything to happen to your beautiful daughter. In fact, I would like to return when my mission is complete to offer my personal protection to her and perhaps share another meal."

Her father glanced at Mearisdeana and saw the smile on her face. "I think that would be agreeable, Your Highness."

"Good, then I hope to see you again in five days." His eyes swung to each face, but spent the most time on Mearisdeana's.

# Chapter 19

The wizard, Baragarden, retrieved the item from the centre circle. This time it was part of an arm, covered in scales like the other two pieces, but still only an arm, severed about midway between the elbow and the shoulder. Muttering non-magical curses, he stowed his equipment into his pack, stepping carefully to avoid the blood from the bodies of the four women. He surveyed the old cabin for any items he had overlooked. Satisfied, he stepped outside, turned, and flung a fireball in through the doorway. He was at the top of the nearest hill before he stopped to watch the cabin blaze.

_Another failure,_ the voice in his head chided him.

"Not a complete failure," he responded. "This piece is much larger."

Larger yes, but overall the spell has only retrieved a flap of skin, a hand, and an arm. How you can call yourself a wizard is beyond understanding. You should give up and return home. You could get your job back as pig boy.

"Shut up! I will not return until I have my demon to command. Then the old man will cower before me. I will have him whipped like he did me before I have his entrails pulled out. Now leave me alone. I have to think."

Whatever you say, oh grand and powerful wizard.

***

Do you think that reading the spell through again is going to help you?

"Yes I do."

Then enlighten me, great master wizard. What solution have you found to your problem? Are we to find six women, or eight, or perhaps we can butcher ten this time. Is that your answer?

"No, there is something else. It is the blood, but not the volume as I thought. The passage is vague, but I now believe it says 'with blood on them' not 'with blood in them' as I had first read it."

I would like to remind you that the women you have butchered had blood all over them by the time you were finished. What more are you looking for?

"They must have blood on them before I start the ritual."

So you are going to beat them before you start the spell?

"No. I believe they must be at their time of the month."

And just how do you propose to find four women who have the same time of the month?

"I have not figured that part out yet. We will push on to Bakerstown. The answer will have presented itself by the time we arrive."

***

We have been here for a month, oh mighty wizard. Have you found your answer yet because I am getting tired of the smell of ale?

Baragarden ignored the voice and continued picking up beer mugs. The voice was right. A solution had not presented itself. He had run low on money, so he was working in this dive of a bar on another street of pleasure, waiting for inspiration. Unfortunately, inspiration was proving elusive.

He was squeezing between two chairs on his way to empty his tray when he spilled a small amount of stale beer on a man's shoulder.

"Watch it, boy, or you will end up eating those mugs." Baragarden slunk off to the kitchen without saying a word.

"What's wrong with everyone tonight?" he asked the cook whose name he could never remember. "Everyone's ornery."

"The cause is in the whore house across the street. They are closed, and these men have been missing their pleasure for a few days now."

"Why is the pleasure house closed?"

"They close for a few days every month. All the whores have their monthly time together. It has something to do with them all living and working in the same place, or that is what I've heard. Who knows, maybe they just need a rest."

# Chapter 20

"Since Singh's death, we—"

"Singh's murder ye mean," one of the captains shouted.

Cracker missed who the loud mouth was, but before anyone else could interrupt again he held up a fist and shouted, "Batten your holes or I stuff em with this. Vee be talking."

"As I be saying, since Singh's passing, some of ye has drifted off on your own, as ye had every right to do, but what has it gotten ye? Fat Aras lost his ship and his life. Black Wila was taken at Little Point when she tried to unload the cargo she had just captured. Most of us have been plagued by problems we never had when we were all together. When —"

"When Singh was leader." Cracker saw who the loud mouth was this time. It was the younger Danber brother.

"When we was strong enough to be feared," Vee finished.

"And whose fault is it that we's no longer strong?" the other Danber shouted.

"The fault was too many wanted to be leader. I include meself in that group. We argued and went our separate ways, but we are here today to fix our problem. If we ever want to be a force on the lakes again, we have to come together under one leader."

"I nominate me brother," the younger Danber announced.

"I nominate Vee," one of his supporters countered.

Cracker looked around the circle of men standing on the hard sand of the beach. No one else spoke. Vee had been right; the Danber brothers were the ring leaders.

"Two nominations, how do we decide?" someone asked on cue.

"Show of hands," Cracker called like he had been told to, and just as Vee had said he would, the younger Danber called for trial by combat. The Danbers knew that Vee's faction was larger. They also considered themselves to be better swordsmen. The rumour going around that Vee's shoulder was injured, and the fact that he seemed to favour his right arm helped to still any uncertainty they might have felt regarding Vee's Nadian swords.

"Combat! Combat! Combat!" the Danber supporters were chanting.

Vee looked around the circle as he rubbed at his shoulder. The chanting grew stronger. All the men were chanting now.

"Okay. Combat it be," Vee agreed.

The circle of men widened as the two fighters started to remove coats and shirts. Needles, always looking to make some money, started taking bets. As soon as Vee removed his shirt and the bandaged shoulder became apparent, more of the Danber faction started shouting their bets. Needles naturally ended up among them as the contest began. He slipped over behind the younger Danber.

Both men used two swords. Danber's were clearly expensive weapons created by a master craftsman. They shone silver in the sunlight. Cracker had noticed the jeweled handles before the fight began. He intended to have one before the day was finished.

Vee's swords, on the other hand, did not look expensive. There were no jewels on the hilts and the blades looked grey instead of silver. An unknowledgeable person would assume they were cheap, but all the swordsmen around the circle recognized them for what they were—Nadian blades... the best swords in their world.

The men circled each other, testing their footing on the sand. Danber made the opening move. Both of his swords beat at Vee's defenses. The strokes were quick and sure. A man with two good shoulders would be hard pressed to defend against them, but that was exactly what Vee did.

The fighting was hard and fast. By the time both men were covered in sweat, it was obvious to everyone that Vee's shoulder was uninjured. He moved easily without any signs of discomfort. Cracker saw the realization dawn on the younger brother's face that they had been outmaneuvered. He watched him say something to one of his men who, moments later, passed him a small, loaded, crossbow.

The older Danber lost some of his confidence when he realized what Vee had done. Cracker saw it, and he assumed Vee did also because he went on the offensive immediately. Danber did manage to manipulate the fighting around until Vee's back was available to his brother, but when nothing happened he looked even more worried until a quick combination by Vee penetrated his defense and his chest.

As Danber fell to his knees, he looked towards his brother. Cracker followed his gaze. Needles pulled his knife from the kid's back, and dropped his dead body to the sand.

When the commotion ended, six of the Danber supporters were dead on the beach. Vee was pronounced leader.

# Chapter 21

Baragarden picked up his pack and walked towards the whore house across the street. It had taken two months, but now he was ready.

"We are closed," the black-bearded guard announced as the wizard pushed through the large doors. He confronted two guards in the foyer between the entrance doors and the inner doors. Baragarden stopped, waited and, just like the last time, the second guard stepped forward to back up the first. Baragarden cast the spell he had worked out over the past two months. Both men crumpled to the floor unconscious. He had argued with his inner voice about killing them instead of creating a spell to stun, but he had reasoned that energy required for the killing spell was not worth it. This night was going to take enough magical energy already without wasting any.

He put a locking spell on the entry door and proceeded into the main room where six women sat scattered about on chairs and couches. He could not use the same knockout spell here because it required the target to be wearing substantial metal. Not a problem with the guards, even though they only carried knives, but the women did not carry weapons. He reasoned that their few rings or chains would not be enough of a catalyst for the spell. He used the control spell. It had worked well before. Then he got to work on the design.

It took much longer than he thought it would. Despite the fact that he had drawn it many times before, he could not rush the work. He was almost finished when a seventh woman entered the room. He had to expend more energy on another spell to subdue her. When the design was finished, he chose the four largest women and had them remove their clothes to verify that they all bled. Satisfied, he tied them into position within the circles before he started the chant.

The spell went smoothly, without complications. He completed the last line, cut the last throat, turned, and spoke the word of power. He heard wailing from the blackness, then screaming. The noise ended. Something fell to the ground.

Another failure and father's words ring true. You are incompetent.

"Shut up," Baragarden ordered as he reached the bloody mess that had appeared. It had the same scaled covering, but it took a moment to identify it as part of a body. It looked as if the thing had been bent double and pulled backwards into the rift. He realized that most of the legs and the upper body had not made it through, as he used the sacrificial dagger to unfold it.

Suddenly the door to the foyer burst open and one of the guards charged into the room. He staggered with a dazed expression on his face as he crossed the floor and grabbed Baragarden in a bear hug. Even in his semi-conscious state the man was tremendously strong. Baragarden was terrified. His arms were crushed to his side, all breath was expelled from his body, his head started to spin.

The dagger, you fool. Use the dagger.

With desperation he slashed the dagger into the guard's groin. For moments nothing changed, then the guard crumpled to the ground as copious amounts of his blood stained the front of his pants and Baragarden's gown. The wizard could feel the energy in the blood. It was more than all four women together.

_The scroll says warriors, you fool, not women,_ the voice scoffed before it started to laugh hysterically. The laughter continued while Baragarden packed his tools and made his way out into the street, not quieting until he was outside the city gates.

# Chapter 22

"Do you have it?" Adamtay demanded as Nailmoe entered his suite.

"Of course I have it, a short walk through the palace to the chief wizard's chambers and back. What could possibly have gone wrong? You have to relax, my friend."

"How can I relax? My intended is meeting my father and mother for the first time. What if they do not approve? My parents are... well, you know what they're like. They are old fashioned. They can be offended by the smallest thing."

"Relax, my friend. Mearisdeana will bewitch them just like she did you. You have nothing to worry about. Even I, your closest and oldest friend approve of your marriage, and this necklace will tell everyone how much she means to you. Are you going to tell her about the enchantment?"

"Yes. I must. We have no secrets, and if I ask her to wear it all the time like the ones given out to all the women she will figure out what it is. She is very perceptive. Did my uncle say anything about it?"

"The Court Wizard was less communicative than usual. The man has never liked me."

"It may have something to do with you seducing his daughter."

"He has no proof it was me. I was very discreet."

"He is a powerful wizard, my friend. He has ways of learning the truth."

"I need wine," Nailmoe announced. "You?"

"No, I will wait for dinner." Adamtay fussed before a full length looking glass, pulling his new grey doublet smooth and flicking the ruffles of his silk shirt. "I believe I am ready," he announced.

"Then let us be off," Nailmoe said. He swallowed the contents of his glass in one long gulp before walking over to open the door.

They made their way through the hallways of the palace without conversation. Nailmoe greeted the servants and court officials he knew while Adamtay remained isolated in his nervousness. Eventually they arrived at the apartments Mearisdeana and her family had been assigned. A young Lady in Waiting from the palace staff opened the door to Adamtay's knock. She blushed when she saw Nailmoe. Adamtay's bride-to-be was seated on a couch in the main room. Her parents were seated in chairs on either side of her like protective bookends. The Prince searched their faces for any hint of apprehension. He saw none.

Mearisdeana sprang up as he entered the room, her happiness lighting her face. Adamtay's breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her _nightskin_ shone with a pale whiteness that contrasted with the deep blue of her floor-length gown. Besides the makeup on her eyes, cheeks, and lips, the only other colours evident about her person were the henna designs that adorned her head. They rose from behind both ears flowing gently up over her head in waves that joined in a peek just above her forehead. As she stepped forward to meet him, there were flashes of colour from the designs on her legs and feet as they were revealed by the slits in her gown. Catching those brief glimpses of leg tattoos was so stimulating that he almost groaned aloud. She stopped in front of him.

"Don't touch me. I cannot meet your parents in a wrinkled dress."

"You look magnificent."

"I hope your parents approve."

"I am positive they will," he replied, trying to hide his apprehension behind bravado.

"Should we be on our way?" Mearisdeana asked.

"One small change is necessary." He reached out and touched the crude medallion hanging from a cloth ribbon around her neck.

"Is the danger over? Have the rifts been stopped?" she asked excitedly.

"No, not yet, but a vision like you requires something that is not crudely cast." Adamtay raised his hand to display the beautiful silver pendant hanging from it. "I had my uncle enchant this as a replacement."

"Thank you, Adamtay! It is splendid!"

She reached up and removed the cruder medallion. "Please sir?" she said as she turned her back to him.

Adamtay settled the gift around her neck then bent forward and placed a kiss on each bare shoulder. "Now you are better than perfect," he whispered. "Shall we go and dazzle the court?"

Adamtay pointed out palace features as they made their way to the ballroom where the reception was to take place. He identified the scenes depicted in the many tapestries that covered the cool stone walls, and named the other building and monuments seen through high windows, hoping his commentary would hide his nervousness. His mouth was dry when the herald announced them at the ballroom.

Although he had been in this room many times before, he tried to remember how it had appeared during the first ball he had attended, in an attempt to appreciate what Mearisdeana was experiencing. From the double doorway, three red-carpeted steps descended to the impressive black Argarien marble floor of the immense room. Not that Mearisdeana or anyone else would be able to appreciate the grandeur of the exotic marble because the floor was crowded with the country's finest citizens. A garden of brightly coloured gowns covered the floor and the faces of all the flowers turned towards them as they moved into the room. He felt Mearisdeana's hand tighten on his arm, but she did not falter. Ahead of them the flowers and their formally black-clad partners parted.

Adamtay led his group forward to where his parents stood. Mearisdeana performed a perfect curtsey, said all the correct things, and made all the correct responses.

"Welcome to our court," King Terrintay said as Mearisdeana was presented.

"And welcome to our family," Queen Saratay added. "Now, let me introduce my soon to be daughter-in-law to the court," she finished as she tucked Mearisdeana's hand in the crook of her arm and led her into the crowd.

The king touched hands with Mearisdeana's parents. "Welcome," he said. "Please join my wife for the introductions."

Adamtay breathed a sigh of relief. His mother's actions told everyone that Mearisdeana was accepted. He glanced at his father who must bless their union by announcing the wedding, if it was to proceed.

Terrintay indicated that Adamtay should follow him, and led him into a private anteroom off the ballroom. A footman closed the door after they passed leaving them enclosed among richly upholstered couches and chairs, all tastefully positioned to allow appreciation of the fine paintings, sculptures, and priceless antique vases the room held.

"She is a lovely woman, my son."

"Thank you, Father."

"I did not want to mar the reception, but there is something we have to consider. Another incident has occurred. A woman was killed this time. I will not ruin your engagement party with the gruesome details, but I must ask you this. Would it not be better to postpone the wedding ceremony until this problem is resolved? Having so many people in one place is courting trouble, in my opinion. Tonight is chancy enough, but an incident at the ceremony would be a terrible start to your married life."

Adamtay considered his answer. He appreciated the wisdom being offered.

"I understand your concern, Father, but I love her too much to delay. Now that she is here, I cannot bear the thought of having to wait any longer than a week."

His father shook his head. "The impatience of youth. So be it. I will announce the wedding as planned."

# Chapter 23

"Shawn!" Lee cried, as she charged out the door of the cabin and flung herself into his arms.

As he hugged her he saw his mother and Bray follow her out. His sister had put on weight, as well as height in the year he had been away. She was what, thirteen now? She was almost a woman, and he realized from the pressure of her arms around him, she was strong. His mother stepped off the porch to share an embrace. She might have a touch more grey in her hair, but basically she looked the same—thin, straight, and graceful. He greeted her with a long hug. There was a hint of moisture in her eyes when she pulled away.

"Shawn. It is so good to have you home." She looked him over. "Are you hurt?"

"No, mother, all my injuries have healed."

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Then have some dinner before you go to find Mara. I suppose that is high on your list," she said as she led him up onto the porch where Bray waited.

Bray greeted him with a warm smile. "Welcome home, brother," he said, as they embraced affectionately.

"Waycan told me you are to leave on your manhood challenge in a few days. Best of luck, in case I am not around when you depart."

"They won't send you away again so soon, will they?" Lee asked.

"No, we will be home for a few months, but we may have to go on patrol. People have reported catching glimpses of a robed figure wandering around. If he continues to evade our patrols, Waycan wants us to join the search."

They all sat at the table while Kat dished out bowls of a deliciously aromatic stew. Shawn's mouth watered. He had been eating camp food for the last year. He had thought about his mother's cooking almost as much as he had thought about Mara.

"Tell us about border patrol," Kat suggested as she joined them at the table, lovingly laying her hands on his shoulders before sitting. "Have the Bearclaw incursions stopped?"

"Their concentrated attacks have been broken," Shawn reported. "There are still some isolated groups who continue to fight, but they should be pushed back soon, even without Ran there to help."

"Ran came back with you, then?" Bray asked.

"Yes, the commander felt that he should be away for a while. The others were counting on him to do too much of the fighting instead of doing their part."

"Is that Ran's interpretation of the conversation?"

"No, that is straight from the commander. I know you dislike Ran, but you have to admit he is a magnificent warrior. He won firsts in every event he entered at The Contests last year, even against men with twice the experience."

"That is only because Bray was not there," Lee offered.

Shawn laughed at his sister. "Perhaps, Lee, but I for one was glad to be in his squad. In battle, he saved Afra, Nefty, and me a number of times. Everyone in the camp referred to him as a hero."

"He certainly looks the part," Kat admitted. "I have never seen a better looking man. If I was ten years younger I would take a shot at him."

"Mother!" Lee cried. "How can you say that? Especially after all the beatings he gave Bray."

"I am just appreciating a natural talent, and you have to admit that Bray has recovered nicely. I think you were saying that yourself the other day."

"I... I never said anything of the sort."

"It must have been one of the other young women then."

"Are you ready for your trueone challenge?" Shawn asked, turning the discussion away from his sisters blushing face.

"I believe that is what the challenge is meant to determine," Bray answered.

"You will do fine. Just pick a beast that is not too big. Remember, it only has to be a bear or lion. There is nothing in the rules that specify cave bear or sabretooth. Waycan said he heard whispers that some of your classmates are thinking about killing a sabre tooth like Ran did. That would be a mistake.

"Emulating Ran is something I would never consider."

"Good. Now, if you will all excuse me, I am off to see Mara."

***

Kat watched Shawn stroll away from the cabin. _He has turned out to be a fine trueone, his father would be proud_ , she thought. Kat felt a swell of emotion accompany that thought, something that had been occurring in the past few months. She was feeling the grip of loneliness closing around her. Bray would be a _trueone_ soon, she was sure he would return to Nadia. Shawn was gone most of the time now, and would marry Mara soon. Lee was growing up. What would she do when they were all gone? Who would keep her company on long spring evenings? She heard footsteps as someone joined her on the porch.

"I must find Waycan and review my plans for my _trueone_ challenge. I should be back before dinner, and I will chop some firewood for us," Bray told her. "You might want to talk to Lee. She seems upset about something. I told her I was going to Waycan's and she snapped at me about not caring what I did. Did I do something wrong?"

"I will talk to her. I think she is mad at me not you."

Kat returned to the kitchen and started clearing dishes. Lee sat at table looking cross. "Are you going to help me?" Kat asked.

"How could you say that in front of Bray?" Lee blurted. "I said that to you in confidence. It was embarrassing, Mother. Why would you do that?"

Kat sat at the table and took a moment to think before she answered. "You are right. I should not have said it. I...I have been feeling lonely lately. That is the only excuse I have."

"Maybe you should return some of Waycan's attention," Lee suggested. "He likes you. I can tell."

"Waycan reminds me too much of your father. They were like two bees in a hive when they were younger—always together—always competing— more like brothers than cousins. When they both asked me to marry I thought it was one of their competitions."

"Waycan asked you to marry him?"

"Yes, they both did."

"What made you pick father?"

"I did not have to choose. Waycan disappeared during an excursion to Bearclaw territory. He was missing for almost a year and we thought he was dead. By the time he returned your father and I were married. Waycan chose the travelling life shortly after that."

"But mother, father died a long time ago. You could marry Waycan now, if you wanted. I think he still loves you."

"I think so too, but he has never mentioned it. I am unable to answer a question I never hear."

"What is holding his tongue? Do you know?"

"My guess is he feels he would be dishonouring your father's memory if he was with me."

"How?"

"An oath taken, a misunderstanding, or just a man thing, really, I have no idea."

# Chapter 24

The procession started with two honour guards in ceremonial dress uniforms, their polished breastplates and weapons shining beneath their white cloaks. They were followed by two bridesmaids, the bride, two more bridesmaids, and the bride's parents all dressed in sparkling attire. As they reached the end of the aisle, all turned towards the dais on the left. They took up their positions around the back of the raised platform while Mearisdeana took hers upon it, facing the members of her party.

The bridal party was followed by the groom's, made up of two guards, two groomsmen, the groom, two more groomsmen, and followed by king Terrintay and queen Saratay wearing the jewelled crowns that announced their sovereignty. Their party turned towards the dais on the right and positioned themselves as the bride's group had.

Adamtay's parents were followed by the person of authority who would perform the marriage. In this case, Adamtay's uncle, the Royal Wizard. He took his position halfway between the two daises. The guests sat. The members of the bride's and groom's parties trooped out and took their seats in the front row leaving the bride and groom alone on the raised platforms still facing away from each other. The ceremony started.

Adamtay listened carefully to every word that was spoken. This was his and Mearisdeana's day. He knew there would never be another for him. Divorce was possible under the law, as was remarriage in the case of tragedy, but neither of those options were for him. Mearisdeana was his one and only love, his soul mate.

"The guests will now rise," Adamtay heard his uncle say. "Please close your eyes in preparation for the dawn of the first day of Mearisdeana's and Adamtay's new life together. Now, with eyes closed, the bride and groom will turn to face each other."

"By the authority of my position as Grand Wizard of KaAn, Wizard to the royal court of Tey, and through my blood tie as uncle to the groom, I grant the bond of marriage to Mearis of the house of Deana and Adam of the house of Tay. May their lives be filled with happiness from this day forth. You may now, for the first time, look upon your partners in the new life you have agreed to undertake together."

Someone screamed. Adamtay's eyes snapped open. Across from him Mearisdeana was outlined by a circle of dark nothingness as tall as her. She was straining forward, reaching for him. Her dress was stretched backwards towards the rift. He leapt from the dais and raced towards her. She screamed his name as she was pulled into the blackness. Adamtay flung himself at the rift, only to crash against an invisible barrier. Stunned, on the ground, he watched helplessly as the rift disappeared.

# Chapter 25

Bray finished binding leather strips on the handle of his second flint knife. The rules of the _trueone_ challenge did not specify how many weapons of each type you were to make, but Bray felt better with two knives in his hands. After two years of specialized training it felt natural. Not that these knives were anything like his Nadian blades. These were crude stone knives chipped from flint.

Binding finished he placed the blades aside and gathered the last few berries from a bark-bowl beside him. A sparrow landed with a chirp on a stone of the fire and hopped immediately to his knee her little claws digging into his skin. With a bop of her head she proceeded to scold him for taking her berries.

"I left plenty behind for you, little mother. You have nothing to scold me about. I'll leave you to your berries soon."

Three days into his challenge and he had supplied himself with a flint tipped spear, two knives, ten flint arrow heads, a loin cloth, pouch, moccasins, and a sleeping skin made of deer hide. He had traded the meat from his kill for the latter. The trade also availed him of someone's labour to clean the hide. He did not see who he traded with. That was the way it worked. You hung what you were willing to trade in a tree, spoke to the greenery around you, and if the bargain was accepted you awoke to find the exchange complete.

It only worked if the person was known to the little people. Many Tawshe were. It was an accepted means of acquiring items for the _trueone_ challenge, under the condition that the raw materials for the items came from one's own labours. No one could trade for metal weapons because those raw materials were outside of what the inductee could obtain during the challenge.

Sliding his stone knives into their sheaths, Bray picked up his spear and other possessions, ensured that his arrowheads were secure in his pouch, doused his fire, and set off at an easy jog. The distance he proposed to travel before sunset was significant, but he felt confident he could make it. He alternated between jogging and walking, a combination that ate up distance.

Close to midday he stopped to consume the meat he had saved from his previous evening's meal. After eating he climbed the end of T'Han Bluff. It was a difficult climb but, once on top of the ridge, it was an easier run, and overall much shorter than the alternative route through the valleys. At the top he rested a short while before setting out at a steady walk along the ridge top.

A number of trees from below were tall enough to reach the top of the ridge, but not many. He could see the tree-covered land below him as it stretched out to the lake, visible off to his left. Some bare areas appeared as slashes in the greenery. Bray knew them to be natural meadows and the rocky tops of low hills. Off to his right, rearing out of the stretch of forests, and a three-day fast march from the ridge he walked, the central mountains of the Tawshe peninsula rose. The forest was a solid cover on the land between the mountains and the ridgetop trail he walked. He could see smoke from other Tawshe villages in a number of places. Overall, it was a wild, majestic and beautiful land, but it was not his home. He was Nadian, and he would return there someday as soon as he completed his _trueone_ challenge and retrieved his father's swords. Bray held to that purpose despite his love for the Tawshe lands and his adopted family. He would miss Shawn, Kat, and Lee most of all.

Bray was about to start jogging again when something in a clearing below caught his attention. A slight thinning in the trees allowed him to see the ground clearly. It was one of the openings formed by a small knob of stone protruding out of the earth. Someone had drawn a design on the stone outcrop, a combination of lines of varying lengths. It looked like spear points extending from a central circle with other circles at the ends. A robed figure was moving about the design, and there were four Tawshe crouched in four of the circles. Bray moved to the edge of the cliff and studied the scene. He could hear a murmur on the wind. The robed figure seemed to be talking. The Tawshe were not moving. Bray recognized Shawn at the same time he realized the Tawshe were bound.

He dropped to the ground at the edge of the ridge and looked for a way down. He could do it, but it would be a slow decent. The only other option was to jump for one of the trees that edged up to the cliff and rose almost to the top. Deciding that the cliff decent was his best choice, he dropped his spear over the edge and looked for a place to start the downward climb. Picking a likely spot he glanced again at the scene below.

Just then, the robed figure stopped walking and made a motion with one hand. Bray saw the four Tawshe start to struggle against their bonds. Sunlight flashed off a knife blade as the figure spoke a long sequence of sounds before reaching down and slitting the throat of the Tawshe furthest from the cliff face.

Bray rose to his feet as the killer started walking around the circle of captives. Luckily his direction of travel put Shawn at the farthest point on the circle.

Taking three steps back from the cliff edge, Bray stopped, raced forward, and jumped for a tree. Crashing through the new growth at the top he bounced off a few stronger limbs before he could control his fall. Dropping from limb to limb, supported for less than a heartbeat by foot or hand, he reached the ground quickly and charged out of the trees into the clearing just as the figure cut another throat. Bray sprinted towards Shawn.

He was close enough now to recognize that Ran was the next person on the killer's route around the circle. He could not save both of them. Ran would die. Shawn would live.

The killer was halfway to Ran when he noticed Bray. He paused for a moment and then made a gesture with his hand. Bray felt a slight resistance but broke through it without slowing. The killer was almost at Ran when he noticed Bray again, stopped chanting, and disappeared only to reappear by Shawn. His knife slashed across Shawn throat.

***

Mearisdeana could see Adamtay and her family as if through a haze. She was screaming Adamtay's name and reaching for him when he launched himself through the air towards her, only to be brought up violently by some barrier before fading from her sight.

As a freezing blackness enveloped her, she automatically brought on her _dayskin_. The burning sensation she had been experiencing stopped, the cold remained. For a moment she was lost in complete darkness before she saw a hint of light begin to grow in the distance. It continued to expand until she could make out a scene as if through a round window. There was no sensation of falling, but she seemed to be moving from a great height towards it.

She saw a pattern outlined in blood red flames. Something moved on the pattern like a spider on a web. As she watched the creature, it made a gesture with a silver-hued item it carried. Red energy blossomed from the object it touched. She surged closer. The spider moved slowly to another object, performed the same movement. More red energy spewed forth. Her progress towards the scene surged anew. The creature started to move again just as something burst into the periphery of her view. It charged towards the pattern.

Mearisdeana was close enough now to realize that the spider creature was a man, as was the thing that was charging towards the pattern. Further, she decided the creature had to be a wizard because it made a hand gesture towards the running man, and she witnessed a blue tinted energy flowed out. The blue tinged spell did not appear to affect the runner. He charged straight through it.

Mearisdeana was very close when the wizard seemed to transport himself to another location on the design where a bound figure crouched. A movement of the silver instrument the wizard carried caused another burst of red. The running man changed direction. She surged forward. Her feet touched a solid surface, and her vision almost cleared.

The wizard transported himself again as the runner dove forward and knocked the last man away, somehow ending up crouched in the circle himself. The wizard reappeared, silver dagger raised, downward stroke started. The kneeling man's hands shot out as he surged upwards. Before the wizard could complete his downward stroke he was struck five times. Mearisdeana thought the man was punching the wizard until she saw the red energy spew out from where he connected. Although the wizard's back was towards her, the spewing energy suggested the strikes were to the groin, stomach, chest, armpit and finally the throat just as the wizard screamed a final word.

The force and speed with which the man moved carried him in a leap above and over the wizard. He landed at Mearisdeana's feet. The wizard collapsed. There was an explosion of energy and Mearisdeana passed out.

***

She awoke, dazed and disoriented. It took her a few moments to remember what had happened. She dragged herself to her feet and looked around. This was not her world. This was not KaAn, that much was obvious. Her world had not seen vegetation like this for ages. In her studies she had discovered pictures and texts that told of her world looking like this once. Most of her colleagues had scoffed at the idea, saying it was all fiction.

She realized with a start that she was standing uncloaked in sunlight. For a second she was terrified before reason reasserted itself. Her _dayskin_ was active. She vaguely remembered doing that as she was sucked into the rift. That memory brought back the picture of Adamtay rushing forward to reach her. Her hand grasped quickly for the medallion hanging around her neck. Reassured by its feel, she reasoned there was a chance that she would not be stuck on this world forever. Adamtay would come for her if it was at all possible, and if the spell laid on the necklace was substantial enough to traverse the distance to another world. Meanwhile she had to be strong, and do whatever she could to help herself.

Obviously this sun was weaker than KaAn's. It hung almost directly above her in a brilliant blue sky, but it did not cast the blazing white light she was used to on KaAn. Her _dayskin_ was strong enough to protect her she reasoned, but a cloak would be nice. Her wedding dress was nothing more than tatters now. She walked over to the body of the wizard. His cloak was caked in blood. She could not bring herself to touch it, but she wanted his dagger. First, it was magical. It might be useful in returning home and, second, it might keep her alive. It was still in the wizard's hand and, when she attempted to pick it free, she realized his fingers were frozen in place around it. With viciousness she had never felt before, she smashed her foot down on the hand. It felt good. The knife came away easily.

A short distance from the wizard lay the body of the man the runner had managed to knock out of the way. He was tied in an awkward position, but his eyes were watching her. She moved towards him and was relieved that he showed no fear. Maybe she would be accepted by these beings. She was wondering how to free him when he rolled onto his stomach presenting the ropes at his back for cutting. She complied. With his hands released he was able to free himself. He rose to his feet in a smooth graceful movement, and offered her his hand as an aid to standing. He said something she did not understand. She replied in her own language. He shrugged.

The young man who had killed the wizard was kneeling beside the body of the one he had run towards first. She started towards him, but her new companion stopped her with a hand on her arm. With a flick of his head he motioned for her to follow.

They made their way to a pile of packs and weapons stacked a little ways distant. He searched through the pile, pulling out a sword and knives which he strapped about himself. Picking up two other swords he again indicated for her to follow. They headed towards the cliff wall and the closest trees.

He demonstrated what he wanted her to do, and in a short time they had cut four long thin plants into poles, along with some smaller branches, and a number of vines that could be used as bindings. They dragged everything back to the bodies. Her companion quickly built two bedlike structures using the items they had cut and two cloaks he retrieved from the packs. Mearisdeana grabbed a cloak for herself.

Without bothering the kneeling man, he proceeded to carry the other two bodies, one after the other, gently, to one of the structures he had built. He added two packs to it. He then tied one end of a length of vine around and under the wizard's arms and the other end to the loaded structure. He had to drag the wizard's body closer in order to accomplish this. He used the vine to do it, making an effort to not lay hands on the body. Only then did he walk to the kneeling man.

"Bray," she heard him say. He repeated it, but the kneeling man still did not answer. When the man did not respond to a third call, her companion placed a hand on his shoulder and said something else. This time the man responded violently.

From his kneeling position the man sprang to his feet like an uncoiling spring. His eyes were filled with pain. There was a crude knife in each fist. Mearisdeana thought he was going to strike at the first man, as he had the wizard, but he stopped suddenly, his shoulders sagged, his head drooped for a second. When he raised his head again the eyes held only sadness.

He knelt and lifted the dead body, carried it forward and placed it gently on the empty travel bed. The first man added the two remaining packs and weapons. The man, whom she believed was named Bray, took one end of the structure, lifted it, and set off. The other man did the same, following Bray, the body of the wizard dragging behind. Mearisdeana walked behind the wizard's body.

Following a well-used trail they were soon into the trees. The travel beds moved reasonably well, but the wizard's head would tilt towards a shoulder and skew the body until it got stuck. The first time it happened, Mearisdeana stepped forward and kicked the head free. Her wedding slippers had disappeared leaving her feet bare, but her _dayskin_ was as hard as the polished grey granite it resembled. She could kick the body all day without ill affect she reasoned, and she would happily.

Mearisdeana had been apprehensive when they first approached the vegetation. The growth was huge, towering far above her head. It looked dark and sinister, but as they picked up the path and entered the gloom she felt her nervousness ease. It was cool beneath the plants—she was thankful for the cloak she wore. The area around her was amazing. A heavy, damp aroma she had never encountered assailed her. It reminded her of the smell of the spice plants her mother grew in the window box in their kitchen at home, only multiplied one-hundred fold. She associated it with the green colour of the plants. The area was alive with noises, and small, colourful, flying creatures could be seen flittering above her head. Her academic training asserted itself, as she started collecting and cataloguing many things she saw. She had acquired a handful of leaves and flowers before she realized how stupid she was being. She was stuck on a different world, torn from all she knew and loved, at the mercy of strangers with whom she could not even speak. She dropped her samples, kicked the wizard's head again, and trudged on.

Eventually they broke out of the trees. The sun was starting to climb down the sky as they came in sight of a village. She saw cultivated fields at the sides of the road stretching away to the left and right. Small buildings built from logs were seen scattered about in the fields. The structures became more abundant until they entered an area with buildings on either side of the path which had become a road.

# Chapter 26

Bray dragged the pole bed containing Shawn's body to the village square where he stopped. Clearing the body of the other items, he lifted his brother in his arms and walked slowly towards Kat's house. He did not know where Ran went with the other bodies, nor did he care.

His mind was replaying his race to save Shawn, as it had been since he regained consciousness. Had there been some way he could have saved his brother... a faster decent of the tree... a thrown knife... a thrown spear... a faster sprint forward? What if he had run towards Ran instead of Shawn? The scene played itself over in his head again and again, and each time he lost the race.

Kat was on the front porch. Her face was white. He could barely make her out through his tears. She held the door for him as he carried Shawn into the cabin and laid him on his bed.

"I could not save him Kat. I tried. Believe me, I tried, but I failed."

Kat did not seem to be listening. She crumpled to the floor beside Shawn's bed, her body thrown protectively across his. The anguish of her cries tore into Bray. A number of women came into the house, told him to leave, and then pushed him outside.

Bray sat on the steps, his mind in turmoil. He heard people come and go, but he paid no attention until he felt someone standing in front of him. He raised his head. Lee. Her slap hurt his heart as much as it did his face.

"You saved Ran and let Shawn die," she cried. "How could you do that? He was your brother... he was your friend... your only friend, and you let him die! You are dead to me. I hate you. I hate you! My mother hates you. Stay away from us!" She ran into the house.

Sometime later Waycan appeared. He led Bray away.

# Chapter 27

Waycan was in his garden when his housekeeper, Ta'Char, came to find him. "Death," was the only word she said while pointing to the front of the house. Ran stood in the road waiting for him, beside a travel bed containing two bodies, what looked like a third body lay in the dirt behind and beyond that was a stranger in a Tawshe hunting cloak.

The person had the hood up so features were not evident, but Waycan knew it was a stranger because no Tawshe would wear a hunting cloak in this heat. The question was why Ran had allowed the stranger to live. It was out of character. He was like his father in that way, but the more immediate concern was the bodies.

"Who?" Waycan asked.

"Afra and Nefty."

"What about Shawn?" There was hope in his voice.

Ran indicated no. "Bray took his body to Kat."

Waycan's shoulders slumped noticeable as his complexion greyed.

"Who did this?" He wanted the whole story, but there were too many things to do.

Ran pointed at the other body lying in the dirt. "Wizard. Some sort of spell involving sacrifice, ours not his. Bray killed him."

"And the stranger?"

"That might be better explained indoors."

"Okay, come with me." He saw Ran motioned the stranger to come as he followed Waycan into the house. Once inside, he motioned for the stranger to remove her hood. As it fell back Waycan felt awe. He had never seen a creature like this in all his years of travel, and had rarely seen anything this strange. It was definitely female, and covered in what looked like gray stone scales. Despite the scales or perhaps because of them, the creature was striking.

"She does not understand our language, but appears to be intelligent," Ran informed him.

"Is she a servant of the wizard?"

"No, I believe she was brought here by the spell the wizard was performing. I would swear she was not there when I first awoke."

Waycan considered what he had heard. He was anxious to hear Ran's story, but first he had to deal with the deaths.

"I want you to stay here. Use the back bedroom and have Char fix some food. I will return as soon as I can."

It was late by the time he had soothed the emotions caused by the loss of life, retrieved and brought Bray back, searched the wizard's corpse, and then witnessed its cremation. Bray and the stranger were both asleep.

"Ran, let us leave the telling of your story until the morning. Return here for breakfast and we will review the happenings."

Ran nodded and made his way out into the night.

***

Ran walked blindly back to the small house he and his friends had used. It was dark and silent. He found some ale in the cold room. It had belonged to Nefty. He drank a large glass and then went to bed. But sleep eluded him.

The death of Nefty, Afra and Shawn was painful, but should not be causing the anxiety he was feeling. He had grown up with them. They had been classmates, and then squad mates. Over the last year they had fought skirmishes and battles together. They had always won. He was their leader; they should not be dead, because he was the best.

He got back up and poured the rest of the ale. It didn't help. His mind and body felt empty. He didn't believe it was the deaths that caused it. The Tawshe often saw dead. Since childhood he had been taught that death was only one false step away. The Tawshe value life, but they are also realists. Death happens. Ran had faced death before, but for some reason this was affecting him differently. There was emptiness inside of him, something missing, like a weasel had chewed a hole in his chest.

For years Ran had been told he was one of the elite. He had come to believe it. The Tawshe were the finest fighters in the lands around the lakes, perhaps anywhere, and he was one of their best. Aside from Bray, no one had ever stood against him and won. In The Games he had beaten fighters with twice as much experience. On the Bearclaw frontier he had fought and killed some of their fiercest warriors. He had come to think of himself as invincible.

Was that the problem?

Today he had stared death in the face in a way he had never before experienced. He had been without control, unable to defend himself, unable to move, unable to fight, and that was something he found frightening.

The wizard had defeated four Tawshe with a wave of his hand. Shawn had recommended caution when approaching, as was his way, but Ran had dismissed his concerns. He saw only one intruder in a place where others could not hide. Four Tawshe against one man, the result was assured, or should have been. If one man could defeat four of the finest warriors, then what did it mean to be a Tawshe? Always before, Ran had known the answer to that question. There had never been doubt in his mind. Now... now he had no answer... now he was lost.

# Chapter 28

"Are you well?" Waycan asked when Bray stumbled.

"Feeling a little weak," Bray replied. "I am probably just tired. I have not been sleeping well."

"Has the feeling happened before, in the last few days?"

"No, this is the first time. I will be fine. We should continue on."

"How about you, Ran?" Waycan asked. If anyone was feeling ill, he would have thought it would be Ran. For the past three days he had looked drawn and disturbed. Waycan put it down to losing his close friends, but perhaps it had something to do with the spell that had knocked them out.

"I feel fine," Ran answered in his usual brusque manner. He turned and started leading the three of them along the trail again.

The boys had told Waycan their stories three mornings past. He had studied the scroll they had found in the wizard's cloak before he burnt the body and all of its possessions—the advised practice for dealing with those involved with the dark art, and this was definitely the dark arts.

After three days Waycan was still at a loss as to the true nature of the wizard's spell. It had been in a language he had not encountered, and had not been able to decipher. From the boy's stories, he had to conclude that Ran's assumption was correct. The spell had caused Mearisdeana to be pulled across the void to this world, but why? He had heard of wizards enslaving demons from other dimensions to do their bidding, but Mearisdeana was not a demon, despite her strange appearance.

Char had been teaching her the common tongue for three days now. She was a fast learner, and could already carry on a broken conversation. But she had more questions than answers. She had no idea why she had been pulled here, and had added little to his understanding of the problem. He had left her back at his cabin with Char while he and the boys returned to where the incident had happened.

Ahead of him, Bray stumbled again and fell to his knees. "I cannot go on, Waycan. I have no strength in me. Leave me, I will rest here, and then return to the village."

"Nonsense, boy, rest and then we will return with you. Tomorrow is another day."

Waycan had to help Bray back to his feet and had to support him as they started the return trip to the village.

"I am starting to feel better," Bray announced after a small time had passed.

"Should we continue towards home?"

"I think I can make it to the meadow now. Let us try again." They turned and headed off in their original direction, but again Bray was overcome.

"We will try again another day," Waycan decided. "This may have something to do with the knockout spell the wizard tried to use on you; if so, a few more days may see the effect gone."

***

Mearisdeana's discomfort had been growing for most of the morning. She was dizzy and weak. Char had given her water, something that usually made her feel marvelous, but not this time. It had seemed to work for a short while, but then the illness returned. She had to excuse herself from the morning language lesson and return to her bed. She was asleep when Waycan arrived for the midday meal. When she awoke, Mearisdeana felt recovered so did not mention the incident to her host. She decided it was probably caused by one of the strange foods she was eating. It might be best to go easy on the unprocessed fruits and vegetables, a shame really because she enjoyed those most of all.

Bray worked with her on the language lesson in the afternoon. For some reason she felt good when he was around. She liked him. His easy manner reminded her of Adamtay. When he was close, she could think about her lover without her thoughts leading to feeling hurt and alone. She felt a link with Bray that she did not feel with Ran, although physically Ran reminded her more of Adamtay than Bray did. Adamtay was large and powerful. He radiated strength in the same way Ran did.

"You are different from the other Tawshe," she said to Bray during a break.

"I am not Tawshe. I am Nadian."

"Nadian?" She was getting the hang of asking a question.

"It is a city on North Lake. I was adopted by Kat when I was stranded on Tawshe lands after my father was killed."

Mearisdeana had asked about the term 'lake' numerous times, but could not understand the answer. "How old were you?"

"I was eight years. I have been here for ten now."

"Was there no way for you to return home to... Nadian?"

"Nadia is the city. Nadians are people from Nadia. And, to answer your question, I believe my grandfather would have sent a ship for me if he knew I was alive, but Waycan refused to inform him."

"Do you ever think about returning to Nadia?"

"All the time and I will some day when I am a trueone and have retrieved my father's swords."

"Where are they, these swords?"

"A pirate has them, I believe."

There were too many unknown words in the last few sentences for Mearisdeana to understand exactly what Bray was saying. 'Ship', 'trueone' and 'pirate' were all unknown to her. She was trying to figure out the correct way to ask about them when Bray asked a question.

"Do you think about returning to KaAn?"

"Yes, that thought is with me at all times. I am sure that my beloved will come for me."

Bray must have sensed the discomfort his question was causing because he asked something different. "What did you do on your world?"

"I was a... scientist. I do not know your word for it. It is someone who looks for answers to questions about all kinds of topics. I specialized in the growing of food plants—agriculture—we call it.

Bray looked puzzled. "How many questions can you ask about growing food? Every home has a garden here. There are many discussions over the garden fences, but not many deal with how the plants grow."

"My world is different. Plants do not grow easily anymore. I believe they did at one time, but our sun has become hotter and harsher. All food is now grown under defused sunlight using small amounts of concentrated fertilizers. I figure out what combinations to use to get the best growth."

"What will you do when you answer that question?"

"I will ask another question."

"And that is how you will spend your life, asking questions?"

"Finding answers to questions we do not know the answers to. I cannot think of a more fulfilling way to spend my life. I am sure there are things you do not understand about your world also."

"It is a strange concept to me. I'll have to think about what you've said."

"That is the first step."

***

"Afra was in that circle, Nefty in that one. Shawn over there and I was here," Ran explained.

"And where was the wizard? How did he move?" Waycan asked. He was trying to picture exactly what had happened and how the design had been used, hoping it would help him understand more than he did.

"I think he woke us all at the same time. All of the sudden I could hear mumbling. I looked and saw the wizard standing in front of Afra who was probably telling him his thoughts on his lineage. He always had quite the mouth on him, that boy."

"And the wizard was doing what?"

"He was saying something in a sign-song manner. Then he... cut Afra's throat and started walking towards Nefty. He started the sing-song thing again, finished as he reached Nefty, cut his throat and started towards me. He was part of the way to me when he got distracted. He made the same hand motion he had used to stun us and continued on. He was in front of me when he finished his chant or whatever it was, but instead of cutting my throat he disappeared. That is all I saw until Bray knocked me over. I landed on my side and saw Bray kill the wizard. Some sort of force knocked me out. When I came around, I couldn't see anyone. I was struggling with my bonds when I saw Bray stand up and walk over that way. I know now he was going to Shawn's body. A short time later I saw Mearisdeana stand up. She retrieved the dagger from the wizard and freed me."

"Can you add anything, Bray?"

"No, Ran saw more than I did. I was up there when Afra was killed." He pointed to the top of the nearby cliff. "By the time I was down and into the open the wizard was already headed for Ran and Nefty was dead. I did feel something when he made that motion at me, but it was insignificant."

"Mearisdeana, did you see anything?"

"I saw the whole thing as if I was falling out of the sky. My recollection agrees with Ran's"

Waycan walked around the design again. "Okay, we can return to the village."

"Do you know how to undo the spell and send me home?" Mearisdeana asked before they were back under the canopy of the trees.

"No, I am not a wizard. I could never undo the spell. It is complicated magic."

"Then you were gathering information. Is that correct?"

"Yes. I can now describe the design and how it was used. There is a wizard in Waysley on Pointer Island who I believe will be able to help if anyone can. I hope he will be able to read the parchment. He is the best I have heard of, and he owes me a favour. You and Bray will have to travel there.

"You will leave in two days, Bray. That will give you time to say goodbye to Kat and Lee."

# Chapter 29

Ran barged out of his parent's house. The door swung violently and crashed against the wall. Behind him his mother's tears fell on the unconscious body of his father as she knelt beside him where he lay on the floor.

"You are going along to kill them both, right?" his father had stated. "That is a good plan. Make it look like an accident while travelling."

"No father. I will not kill them. I will protect them. I owe Bray a _life-debt_."

"You owe him nothing. Do I have to remind you that a _life-debt_ can only be between two Tawshe? He is not one of us. He should have been killed years ago when he arrived on our land."

"Yes father. I have heard your opinion many times, but I will not stab anyone in the back. It is not my way."

"Are you saying it is my way? Answer carefully, boy. You don't want to anger me."

The old man was never one to hold anger in check. As big and chunky as he was he had always been able to move quickly. Ran had learned much about reading an opponent's next move by his need to duck his father's fists.

"I am saying that I am not going along with Bray to kill him, no matter what you say or think."

"Do what I say, boy," his father had screamed as he swung a massive fist at Ran's head. Many a time in his earlier life his father's surprise blows had left Ran sprawled on the floor, but the old man was getting slow. Ran easily blocked that blow and the next. The anger from his father's abuse, smoldering for years, exploded. He drove his left fist into the drink-blotched face, followed by a right cross that had laid the old man out on the floor.

Ran walked away from his parents place without looking back. Some of the anger he felt was because his father had been partially right. He did not owe Bray a _life-debt_. Bray had tried to save Shawn, not him. Saving Ran's life had only been done to destroy the person who had killed Shawn. Ran knew that, and accepted it. There was no _life-debt_. Going with Bray was his way of trying to escape the unease he was feeling.

All his life Ran had believed the Tawshe to be superior, the consummate warriors, the ultimate nation. It was a truth he never doubted—until now. Bray saved his life, but at the same time Ran lost something. There was a part of him missing now. A hole he was desperate to fill.

# Chapter 30

Char brought Waycan a glass of apple cider from the root cellar. "Are our guests settled for the night?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then that will be all, Char. Thank you." Char hesitated. "Is there something else on your mind?"

"The creature can change her skin. I was delivering some bedding to her room today. I thought she was with Bray, so I did not knock. I surprised her. She was examining her arm. I only saw it for a moment, but I am positive there were no scales on it at first."

"Could you be mistaken?"

"Possibly, it was only a moment's glance, but by the way she reacted I am sure she tried to hide it."

"Thank you, Char. I will look into it."

Waycan reflected as he drank his cider. He should confront Mearisdeana, if only to confirm his feeling that the incident was meaningless. He would do it now. Perhaps catching her as she awoke would be helpful. He finished his drink and made his way to her door where he knocked and waited.

"Who is it?"

"Waycan."

"Come in. Is something wrong?" she asked when he approached the bed.

"I am sorry to disturb your rest, but I wanted to speak with you for a moment. Char suggested that you are hiding something."

"So she did see. I thought she had. I did not mean to deceive. You have been kind to me and treated me well. I am grateful for that, but when I arrived I did not know what to expect, so I maintained my _dayskin_. Later it was awkward to change."

"Your _dayskin_?"

"On my world our sun is much stronger than here. Clothing does not offer enough protection, so we have a second skin, the one I have been using here. It protected me when I travelled through the void so I left it activated, but I am thankful that you now know the truth."

As she spoke, those parts of her body he could see, her face, arms and hands changed. Her scales had been like pieces of gray slate, but now her skin was a smooth lustrous white. He thought she was hairless until he noticed the white eyelashes and eyebrows. Devoid of her scales, she appeared thinner and more proportionate. She would turn any man's head. Waycan was taken by how milky white her skin was. It was as if it had never been touched by a ray of sunlight. He realized suddenly that it probably never had been.

"We call this our _nightskin_."

"Your _nightskin_ is lovely, Mearisdeana," Waycan said, "but I must caution you. Our sun may be weak compared to yours, but we still have to be careful. It will burn bare skin, especially skin that has not been exposed to sunshine for some time. Stay protected."

"Thank you, I will." As he rose to leave she spoke again. "Waycan, do you think the wizard will be able to help me?"

"I believe so, but only time will answer your question. Be assured that his magic is powerful. I have not seen him for many years, but even back then he was one of the best. If anyone can help, he can and will. He owes me a debt.

# Chapter 31

"Are you telling me those baubles you had us give to all the women are useless, just junk to make you look competent?"

"Adamtay, show respect to your uncle, and try to get your emotions under control. You are not listening to what is being said."

Adamtay took a deep breath and then another. His father was right, his emotions were out of control, and had been since Mearisdeana was taken.

"I apologize, Uncle. Please forgive me, but I must get her back."

"I know, Nephew, and I have been working on a solution. I did not say it was impossible, only that it will not be easy. As long as she wears the pendant we can locate her. The problem is opening a gateway to where she is."

"The amount of difficulty isn't important to me. I'll do whatever is necessary to get her back, and I will kill the one responsible for taking her. Believe me, whatever is required and death to the one who holds her." Adamtay stormed out of the room.

***

Neventay, wizard to the court of Tay and brother to the king, put down the book he had been studying and called for wine. He rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease the pain that afflicted his head. He had been digging through old records for five days. A solution to the problem had presented itself on the second day, but he had continued looking for an alternative because the first solution was not something he wanted to offer his nephew.

He loved Adamtay as much as he loved his own children, and he did not want him undertaking this quest when the odds of success were so slim.

A servant brought him a glass of chilled white wine which he sipped with appreciation. It did nothing for his headache, but it did ease some of his tension. He stood to begin gathering the items he required. The room spun dizzily and he had to grab the back of his chair to stop from falling. Only then did he realize how exhausted he was. He added a common pick-me-up to the wine and took another drink. By the time he had his notes together he was feeling strong enough to face the task ahead.

He went in search of his brother, and found him with his family at breakfast. "Come, Neventay, join us," his sister-in-law offered. Neventay realized he was hungry. When he had last eaten was a mystery. He helped himself to the buffet set out on the sideboard. The way he ravished the food probably accounted for the fact that no one asked him the question. Even when he finished eating they just sat and waited.

"I have the answer," he announced. "I am not happy with it, but it appears to be the only solution. He shuffled through the papers he had brought. "You have to acquire the Crystals of Blood and Light in order to open a pathway to Mearisdeana."

"I have never heard of these crystals."

"Neither had I until a few days ago. Let me read you what I have in my notes." He pulled a sheet from the top of the papers he had brought. "The crystals can be used to open an inter-dimensional rift when blood and sunlight are applied to them at the same time. They were procured approximately one thousand years ago by a famous wizard, as a means of acquiring wealth. He amassed a huge fortune and great power through their use, but he feared that someone would steel them and use them against him, so he enclosed them in an infrangible magic cage. Eventually his paranoia caused him to expand the cage to enclose his complete castle and effectively sealed him away from the rest of the world. The keep still stands, and although many have tried, no one has been able to gain entrance to it."

"So I have to gain entrance to an enchanted castle that no one has been able to enter for one thousand years? Do we at least know where this castle is?"

"Yes. It is beyond the Arkland Mountain range and luckily that is the direction you have to travel to obtain the other item you need."

"What other item?"

"The Sword of Sacrifice."

"Again, never heard of it."

The Court Wizard took a drink of watered wine before he picked up the other papers from his pile. "Many centuries ago, a king made a terrible mistake that took the life of an innocent child. The child was the only son of a master swordsman who swore he would avenge his son's death. The king was desperate for a way to stop the swordsman, so he consulted a wise man who informed him that the swordsman belonged to the Guild of Champions, and that their sworn oath included a condition that they never kill someone who is sacrificing their life to save another. After long and careful deliberation, the king came up with a scheme of using this information to foil the swordsman.

"He hired four peasants who agreed to sacrifice their lives for him. He had his wizard cast a spell on each man to make them all look exactly like the king. He kept these men with him at all times. They all slept in the same bedroom, dined at the same table, attended the same functions, and all spoke as the king. It was said that even his wife couldn't tell them apart."

The queen made as if to say something, but must have had a change of mind. She motioned Neventay to continue.

"When the swordsman made his way into the castle one night to extract his revenge, he was stymied. All the men rose up to fight him. He was unable to identify the imposters who were willing to sacrifice their lives for the king. He was unable to fulfill his vow.

"The king assumed he was safe as long as he kept his four duplicates around, which he did. He was happy with the arrangement, and the four peasants were overjoyed that they got to live like a king without fear of having to fight the swordsman who seemed to have disappeared.

"The arrangement went on for a few years without any word of the swordsman reaching the king's ears. Most people assumed that he had gone away in disgrace, or perhaps the disgrace had caused him to kill himself, but one of the king's councillors, who understood the ways of the Guild of Champions, advised the king that suicide was seen as self-sacrifice and was therefore against the guild's laws. The king was feeling very pleased with himself until the swordsman appeared in his garden one night where he and all the imposters were walking. He carried a magnificent jewelled scimitar with which he attacked all the men. The men tried to fight back, but they say he was like a whirlwind passing among them, as he slashed and stabbed. Within a few seconds the king lay dead at their feet, but the other four were unharmed, although they all claimed to have received blows that should have killed them. They also claimed that the swordsman called his scimitar the Sword of Sacrifice and told them that it would cut anything except someone making a sacrifice for another. He demonstrated the blade's cutting ability by slicing through the metal gate that secured the garden and then made his escape."

Adamtay's father was the first to understand. "You believe the sword will help Adamtay to enter the castle."

"Yes, brother."

"Do you know where it is, Uncle?"

"Yes. I have located it."

"It sounds too easy, what are you not telling us?"

"The sword is in the possession of a cave worm. I have been searching for days to find you an alternative to the sword, but in that I have failed. You are going to have to defeat an immature dragon."

# Chapter 32

Bray was at the door when Kat answered the knock. Beyond the porch she saw Ran, Waycan, and a smaller figure in a hunting cloak with the hood up. The mysterious creature she had been hearing mutterings about.

"I came to say goodbye," Bray informed Kat, "and to say again how sorry I am that I failed to save Shawn. He was my brother... my friend. He stood up for me the same way you did. I wish it could have been me, Kat, instead of him. He had so much to live for. I feel terrible about his death, and I would take his place in a moment if I could. You have to understand that."

Kat could hear the anguish in his voice. She stepped out onto the porch and took him in her arms. It did her heart good to hold him. He felt so much like her Shawn. He even sounded like Shawn as he whispered, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Kat stepped away even though it hurt to let him go. She had a feeling that she would never see Bray again. They were on their way to Waysley, but she was unsure if Bray would return. He had not completed his trueone challenge, but she also knew that Bray did not consider himself to be Tawshe. They had spoken of the future often enough that Kat felt she knew the truth in his heart. He had always intended to return to Nadia.

"I know you did everything you could to save him, Bray. I have no doubt about that. There is nothing to forgive, and I hope you will believe the same one day."

"Thank you. Is Lee home?"

"Yes, let me tell her you are here." Kat entered the house and crossed the room to Lee's bedroom door. She knocked and entered. Her daughter was stretched out on the bed. Her eyes were puffy and red. "Bray is here, Lee. Will you talk with him?"

"No, I already told him, I never want to see him again!" She was screaming by the time she finished.

Kat shook her head and made her way back to the porch. "You probably heard that. She needs more time, Bray, perhaps when you return."

"If she ever asks, tell her I did everything I could," he stated flatly. "Thanks for everything, Kat. I love you."

He stepped down off the porch to join the others. Waycan led them off following the path to the lake. Only the small hooded stranger looked back. Kat re-entered her house.

"I am making tea," she said. "I will call you when it is ready." The tea had steeped for quite a while before Lee joined her.

"Did you forgive him?" Lee asked. "That is why he came, right?"

"Yes, I forgave him. He tried to save Shawn. According to Waycan, no one could have tried harder. He made it from the top of T'Han Bluff to the valley floor in the time it took the wizard to walk the length of this room."

"That is impossible. No one can run that fast. He has to be lying."

"Bray does not lie, you know that, and he did not run, he jumped into a tree."

Lee's eyes opened in amazement as she pictured what Bray had done. "Why?"

"He was trying to save Shawn."

"But he saved Ran instead."

"Yes, according to Waycan, when the wizard realized that his spell had not stopped Bray, he killed Shawn because Bray was running towards him. Bray saved Ran as a last attempt to stop the wizard from completing his spell."

"I should have known he would try his best to save Shawn, but I cannot find the space in my heart to forgive him. It hurts too much. Maybe if I could see Shawn's smile again I could do it." Tears were rolling down her face anew. "But that is impossible, Shawn is gone, and I will never see him again."

"So you choose to lose your other brother as well?"

"Oh, Mother, help me. I love Bray as much as I love Shawn, but I am unable to face him right now. The pain is too great. Maybe, probably... I suppose eventually I will forgive him, but not now, later, when the hurt is not so fresh. I just cannot look upon him now."

"Well, you do not have to worry about that. Bray has left, Lee. He stopped to say goodbye."

"Good, it gives me time to heal. When he comes back I will be better."

"He may not return."

"No, he has to return to complete his trueone challenge."

"Does he?"

Kat watched as Lee realized what she meant. The girl sprang to her feet and rushed outside. Kat could hear her calling, but there was no answer. Bray was gone.

# Chapter 33

"What is that?" Mearisdeana asked as the men dragged a wooden thing from concealment. It looked like a small, flat-bottomed, carriage without wheels. They had entered woods unlike those she had come to accept as normal around the same time she had noticed a taste to the air she had been trying to identify. The air had taken on a metallic taste that was not explained by the moss covered dense trees they were travelling through.

"It is a boat," Waycan answered.

"What is it used for?"

"It will carry us out to the fishermen."

"Carry us how? It has no wheels."

"It floats on the water."

"No, really, what is it used for?"

They had walked out from under the canopy of the trees while she asked her questions. With a wave of his arm Waycan motioned ahead of them. "It floats on the water."

Mearisdeana lifted her eyes from the boat and stopped walking. Her brain attempted to make sense of what she was seeing. It was a green, undulating mass. "Wh... What is that?" she gasped.

"That is the lake, South Lake, to be exact. Do you not have lakes on your world?"

"No," Mearisdeana whispered as the fear she felt constricted her throat. The lake was everywhere. It ran along the sand in both directions for as far as she could see. Ahead there was no end to it. And it moved. The creature rolled and reached towards where she stood, pushing itself up the sand, reaching, straining as if trying to devour the land and anything that stood upon it.

Bray and Ran had walked ahead carrying the little boat between them. As they got close to the lake it crawled up the sand to reach them. They stopped just in time, but the water tried again and again to grab them.

Waycan was waiting for her to move. "Come, girl. It does not bite." When she did not move, he returned to her and took her arm. He tried to pull her forward, but she resisted. His grip on her arm grew firmer and he exerted more force. She went with him reluctantly.

Bray and Ran had positioned the small craft with its front part touching the water. They were stowing the packs and their longbows as she and Waycan caught up. Bray took her pack and placed it with the others.

"Your craft is too small," she whispered, hoping they would reconsider this foolishness.

"It does not have to take us far, only out to those fishing boats." Waycan pointed to tiny coloured items way out on the lake. Mearisdeana could see the things he meant. It was obvious that the lake was trying to devour them.

"There is nothing to fear, woman," Ran growled. Bray and he had removed their high boots and were waiting in the water. Ran walked back up the sand to where she stood. "Here, I will carry you so that your cloak stays dry." He stooped forward and lifted her in his arms, grunting as he did.

"No," she screamed while struggling free. "It will devour us."

"Nonsense, the boat is perfectly safe. All you have to do is sit absolutely still like a stone. That should be easy enough, after all you weigh enough to be made of rock and you look like it too."

Stunned and hurt by his words she stopped struggling as he lifted her and placed her in the front of the boat. She sat perfectly still, holding the sides of the feeble craft, while Bray and Ran pushed it further into the lake and then climbed in. They took positions in the centre while Waycan—now also bootless—tried to hold the craft stable. Finally he pushed it forward and climbed in. The craft rocked crazily as he did, and Mearisdeana bit her tongue to stop a scream. Bray and Ran took up long sticks with flat ends and used them to force the boat forward. Mearisdeana closed her eyes and held her breath until she could not hold it anymore.

The two men worked their sticks in unison and the boat fell into a rhythm of movement, surge forward, glide, surge forward, glide. Mearisdeana found it was better to keep her eyes open, but she did not look around. She kept her vision locked on the pointed part of the boat in front of her until they eased up beside another slightly larger craft.

After Waycan talked to a man on the larger vessel, coins were exchanged and then, to her amazement, Bray and Ran both stood up. While Bray held the side of the larger boat Ran lifted her again and placed her onto it, followed by their packs and bows. Ran sprang aboard and Bray followed while Waycan steadied the small boat.

"May the Mother watch over you all," Waycan called as he manipulated the small craft away.

# Chapter 34

Ran led them off the pathway and into the trees. Mearisdeana could hear running water and soon they came to a stream. Ran signaled camp, and then disappeared back into the trees after dropping his pack.

It was the third day of their trek across the island of Maidensland. Three days of following narrow trails through dense muggy forests that assaulted her with a sense of green she could almost taste. This landscape was different from what she had previously encountered. The trees were as large, but they were covered in vines, and a dense plant Bray called moss grew on most trunks and branches. The air was hot and thick.

Mearisdeana knew what her tasks were as they made camp. She set about doing them. Find a relatively flat place for their beds, clear it of obstacles, ready for the ground sheets and bedding. Locate and clear a fire pit, nothing too big, just enough for cooking. Bray slipped away to gather firewood. He returned a few times carrying arm loads before he was satisfied. Neither of them spoke and they would not until Ran returned. If he gave the all clear they would relax, build a fire and prepare food. Once, he had returned and indicated that they had to move on. Later he had told her they had been too close to a cave bear's lair.

Bray and Ran took turns scouting ahead. It was obvious they were both comfortable in the woods. They moved silently, in fact that was the first thing they taught her to do, to move quietly. She was learning. Bray said she was getting better. Ran just shook his head, but Ran was sullen and uncommunicative much of the time. She had asked him yesterday if he really thought she was heavy. He just smiled at her. She liked Bray much better.

Ran appeared suddenly from the trees. He did not say anything, but he gave the all clear hand signal, so they set about finishing their camp.

Hand signals were another thing they were teaching her. When they had left the fishing village and taken to the woods, she had wondered about her travelling partners. They did not speak, but always seemed to know what the other needed or wanted. Bray had explained it to her the first night while Ran cooked. He started teaching the signals to her that same evening.

She had been relieved that first day on the island when the fisherman had told them they would have to walk to the other end of the island instead of using a boat. The water terrified her. The fishing boat had been worse than the small boat when it finally headed home. The fishermen had moved the boat a few times during the day and had caught fish until the sun started to sink. She had not minded that, and the smell of the fish was tolerable after a while, but the trip back to the fishing village had been horrible. As soon as they came around the point of land that Bray said was the tip of the Tawshe peninsula, the lake tried to push them under by dropping huge amounts of water onto the boat. She was soaked through and terrified when they finally made it to the village's harbour and docked. Ran had to pry her hands loose. Walking in the woods was much better although her leg muscles were complaining.

She wished she could drop her _dayskin_ , if only for a short time, so that she could massage her aching legs properly, although today they were not as sore as they had been yesterday. Maybe she was getting used to the walking, and she had to admit that she had never slept so deeply.

While she lay out the groundsheets and bedrolls, Ran started the fire, and Bray plucked the three birds he had collected during the day. Food was one thing that she did not worry about. Both Bray and Ran were excellent hunters, and there was an abundance of game. They had purchased dried fish at the village, but had not used it yet. Ran and Bray always seemed to come up with something fresh to eat. The birds he was preparing tonight had been killed by three accurately thrown stones as he had walked through the woods. Last night Ran had caught fish from the stream they camped beside. Mearisdeana had been reluctant to try them remembering the smell from the fishing boat, but cooking on the coals of the fire they had smelled wonderful, so she had taken a bite, and had loved the taste.

"There is clay beside the stream," Ran reported to Bray when he came back with water.

"Clay baked quail, good idea," Bray responded. From a small pouch he took a pinch of leaves he referred to as spice, and rubbed it onto the meat. He took the three plucked and gutted carcases to the stream, and returned with three balls of clay which he set in the fire.

"Will we walk all the way to Waysley?" Mearisdeana asked.

"No," Bray answered. "That is not possible. Waysley is on Pointer Island which is the last island in a string of many. Maidensland is the first island in the chain."

"So we will have to take another boat?" She almost kept the dread out of her voice.

"Most likely three times, but the last will be a ship—a much larger boat," he clarified. Maidensland is the first of the islands called The Three Sisters. We have to take a boat from here to the next island, Swanrock, and then another to the last, Delving Island. There is a fair size port at the far end of that one called Delvingford. From there we will take a ship."

"How many days will it take to walk across this island?"

"Another three should do it, and then we have to find a boat to make the crossing to Swanrock."

"Will that be a fishing boat?"

"Probably," Ran answered, "although that end of Maidensland is also known as a smuggler's haven. Smugglers might agree to take us all the way to Delvingford. That would save us some walking."

"Walking is fine with me," Mearisdeana said.

"Swanrock will not be as easy a walk as here. It is not as long, but it is all rocks and hills," Ran replied. "Those birds smell good, Bray. Do you think they are done?"

"Smell done," Bray agreed. He fished a clay ball out of the fire using two sticks, broke it open, and tasted the meat using his eating knife. "Done," he declared.

***

"Did you hear singing last night?" Mearisdeana asked the next morning as they were packing up. Bray and Ran both indicated no. "It must have been my imagination."

Bray shouldered his pack and slipped off into the trees before Mearisdeana and Ran were ready. They followed shortly, heading along the trail. The sun was peeking through the canopy on beams that cast spots on the pathway. Mearisdeana found the play of light on plant life amazing. Had her world looked like this at one time, and if so why had it changed? Had the heat of the sun increased enough to destroy all the plants? There was so much research she wanted to do when she got home, if she ever got home. She pushed the doubt from her mind. Adamtay will come, or the wizard will be able to help.

Around mid-morning they rounded a curve in the trail and saw Bray ahead of them. He was standing waiting. He looked pale and disturbed.

"What is it?" Ran asked as they approached.

"Sirens."

"Did you hear the song?"

"Yes. I was trying to fight it when my hand went to one of my knives. Touching it seemed to overcome their magic, at least enough for me to move away."

"Handy. Do you have any ideas on how to proceed?"

"I found a bee's nest, but starting a smoker is not a good idea in case they smell it. The breeze is blowing their way."

"Then we will have to take the stings," Ran said.

"What is happening?" Mearisdeana asked. She had understood the words, but could not follow the conversation. Too many concepts were unknown to her.

"There are Sirens ahead, and we must pass them by," Bray informed her.

"What are Sirens?"

"They are magical creatures with a female head and body, but covered partially in feathers. Picture a sensuous dancer wearing feathers. They sing very beautifully, and their song has a controlling effect on others, especially men. We have to sneak by, but first we have to plug our ears with bee's wax. I found a nest, but usually we use smoke to calm the bees before raiding their hive. It stops them from stinging. Their stings are painful, plus when they sting, they die, which the Mother frowns on. But if we build a fire, the Sirens could smell the smoke."

"The Mother?" Mearisdeana asked. Bray made a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate everything around them. "She who supplies everything."

"We are wasting time." Ran started to strip off his leather jerkin.

"Wait, Ran. I can get the wax if you tell me what to do," Mearisdeana offered.

"Why would it be better for you to be stung?"

"Watch," Mearisdeana responded as she rolled up the sleeve of her cloak to above her elbow. She took the dagger Waycan had given her and ran it across her arm. The knife, although sharp, did not cut.

Ran's surprised expression only lasted a moment. "Okay, the job is yours," he stated. "I suggest you remove your cloak. They will get under it."

Mearisdeana slipped out of her cloak and handed it off.

"The nest is in the crook of that broken tree." Bray pointed to a tree just off the path. "Scoop your hand in and get as much as you can. Then walk back to us. We will be up the path a short way. The bees should be gone by the time you reach us."

Bray and Ran moved on up the path. Mearisdeana waited until they stopped before she approached the bees. The tree was a fruit tree. She had learned to identify it when they had stopped the first day to pick apples from one. This one had divided into two trunks at the height of her waist, and a void had developed between the two branches where the bees had nested. There were a few of the small creatures around the hole in the tree but not many until she reached into their home. As she pulled her hand away, the air around her became black with them. She stepped away from the tree and made her way back to the path. The bees seemed to be everywhere around her and on her skin, but if they were stinging her she could not feel them. She focused on one sitting on her arm trying to stab her with a stinger protruding from the end of its tail—if that was what you called it. It tried twice and then took to the air again. Slowly she began to walk up the path. After some steps it was like walking out of a sand storm. The air cleared. By the time she reached the boys most of the bees were gone.

She held her hand out and Ran used his knife to cut small pieces from what she had gathered. He passed a chunk to Bray, and left some in her hand. "Put a small piece into your mouth and suck away the honey. You will be left with only the wax once the honey is gone. Watch." He demonstrated and produced a cleaned piece quickly.

She popped a piece into her mouth and moaned as the flavour spread across her tongue. It was delicious. It did not take long for the three of them to clean their pieces.

"This is called honeycomb," Bray explained. "It is bee's wax." He mushed some of the comb in his hands and worked it into a ball. "This is more than enough for our needs, you can toss the rest." Ran poured an oily liquid over Bray's hands from a small corked gourd he took from his pouch, then over his own and Mearisdeana's. They formed small balls of the wax by rolling it between their oily palms. Before he stuffed his ears Bray turned to her, "No sound or talking until we give the all clear. Is that understood? And try to step where I step." She nodded.

With her ears stuffed with bees wax, the world took on a different feel. They crept off the path and into the woods, moving slowly and carefully. She concentrated on following Bray, stepping where he stepped, ducking branches, moving silently. It was difficult at first. He seemed to move without pattern. Forward a few steps, pause, angle this way, angle the other way, pause, forward again. He stooped, sidestepped, and squeezed by. His hands never pushed aside a branch or bush. If he touched them at all it was more like a caress, like the gentle stroke of a lover. That simile took root in the silence behind her stuffed ears. It grew as they moved until she sensed what Bray was doing. His movements were like a dance, a give and take with the pattern of life around them. She grew to enjoy it, and was disappointed when it stopped.

The sun was well past its apex before Bray led them back onto a pathway. "That was... intense," she said when they had cleared their ears, using a word from her own language to describe what she had felt.

"I do not understand, intense," Bray responded.

"It means, sensing sharply, or heightened awareness."

"Heightened awareness is necessary when you dance with the Mother. She is not always a kind mistress," Bray stated. "You danced well, Mearisdeana."

# Chapter 35

Cracker carried the last two treasure chests into Vee's cave, and looked around for some place to put them down. He finally located a small pile of chests that looked like it would take these two on top.

"You need a bigger cave," he observed to Vee when his hands were free.

Vee was slouched in a large, elaborately carved chair beside one of the braziers that kept the perpetual cave chill at bay. There was some grey at the edges of his scraggly hair. The top of his head was bald now, and his beard was flecked with more gray. He did not look happy. "We need to get out of these caves," Vee said. There was vitality to the words that made a lie of his greying hair.

"We could build shacks down on the beach?" Cracker suggested.

"Live in a shack? Be lookin around you, man. We got more wealth than most cities. I got more wealth than some kings. Why do I have to live in a cave or a shack?"

"We be pirates," Cracker stated in his slow way. "We can't be pirates, and live in a city."

"Why not?"

Cracker waited for an answer to present itself, but nothing came forth. Finally he remembered an incident from last year. "One-Eyed Tom and Red Nose went to a city last year. They was thrown into jail by the City Watch. Honest folk don't be liken us."

"Cities be more than honest folk. And besides, half of those honest folk were thieves b'fore they got respect. They'd accept us, especially if refusing meant losing something valuable, like their heads."

"But the other half won't, and they be who runs the cities. What kind of city would it be if it was run by people like us?"

Cracker waited for Vee to continue the conversation, but he seemed lost in thought. He decided to return to his own cave for a drink, but as he was leaving, Vee looked up. "Cracker, find Needles, and bring im here."

Cracker didn't like Needles. He considered him sneaky and two-faced, but he knew he would be in the ale cave, drinking, and playing knife games. Needles was always betting people that he could do something that sounded impossible with his knives. Cracker had lost money to him many times. He hoped Needles had been drinking and was his normal mouthy self, then Cracker could just pound his long, skinny, horse face and carry him to Vee. He was not that lucky.

Vee got right to the point when they arrived back at his cave. "I got a job for ye, Needles."

"Who ye want dead?"

"It's a different job this time. I want ye to take one or two men and go to Waysley. Check out what the city's walls and gates are like, and how many guards they have."

"Are you interested in any particular part of the city?"

"I am interested in the whole place. It is going to be our new home."

# Chapter 36

Ran was content to bypass the village until he saw the ale barrels being unloaded. They would be at the coast tomorrow evening if his calculations were correct. There was no need to stop here, except for the ale, but for Ran that was reason enough.

He led his companions straight to the ale house. It was low roofed with a dirt floor, but grasses had been fresh laid upon it, and the ale was cool. He was halfway through his first drink when the delegation arrived.

The spokesman approached their table cautiously. "Do you mind if I sit down?" he said. "I have an offer for you."

"Help yourself." Bray indicated the forth chair.

Ran had evaluated the man as he approached. There was no threat in him, or in the two other men he had been seated with, but he was cutting into Ran's drinking time, so he spoke as soon as the man was seated. "What kind of offer?"

"We are looking for someone to kill a large bear that has been terrorizing our village. It killed two children the other day. Their father and two others went after it, but only one man returned. He said the bear got the other two. You look like capable hunters, so we wondered if you would consider it."

"What do we get for our trouble?" Ran asked.

"Three gold coins, one for each of you."

"Plus free lodgings, meals and drink for the night," Ran added.

"Yes, of course, I was about to offer that."

"Deal," Ran exclaimed, slapping his hand flat on the table to indicate a close to negotiations. "We would like to talk to the man who returned."

"I will have him here in a few moments," the negotiator said as he rose from the table.

When they were alone, Ran turned to Bray. "That is a good deal, three golds should be more than enough to pay for our passage to Waysley, and you get to practise for your trueone challenge."

"I get to kill the bear? How will you be occupying your time?"

"I will be protecting Mearisdeana, of course. The villagers are curious about her" Ran had noticed how almost everyone stared at their mysterious, cloaked companion. With her hood up barely an inch of her body could be seen, but the way she moved made it obvious she was female, and the mystery drew men's attention and fired their imaginations. "You do not want to take her on a bear hunt, do you?"

Before Bray could answer, the negotiator came back with another man who was swathed in bandages around his head, neck, and one arm. The man eased into the offered chair with a grimace followed by a sigh.

"Tell us what happened, friend," Ran prompted.

"We tracked the bear to the south, deeper into the island. It has a damaged paw; two claws are missing, so it was easy to follow. I was tracking; the others were following me, and suddenly the bear attacked from behind. It ran right through us. Gareth and Darren were down before I knew what was happening. I managed to get my spear up, but it rose on its back legs and knocked the spear out of my hands. It caught me with one paw as it dropped back down, knocked me into the bush. I thought I was dead, but it went after Darren who was trying to crawl away. I managed to drag myself up and run."

"How far away?' Bray asked.

"We left mid-morning and the sun was directly overhead when we were attacked."

"If you want to be back for the evening meal, you should get going, Bray," Ran stated.

***

Bray was less than ten bow shots from the village when the illness started. It was the same feeling he experienced the first time Waycan, Ran, and he had tried to go to the site of the wizard's design: queasiness throughout his whole body, his breathing laboured, and his strength fleeing. He sat on a large boulder beside the trail hoping a rest would take the feeling away. Sitting helped, the illness did not grow less, but it felt manageable. He stood to proceed, but a few steps further saw him down on his knees, head spinning, and sweat oozing from every pore.

He had just started to feel slightly better when a breeze carried the stink of rotten flesh and wet fur to him. He raised his head. Down the trail an old, scarred, cave bear stood watching him.

***

"What is this liquid we are drinking," Mearisdeana asked. "At first it was pleasant, but now—"

"It is ale, but half a glass shouldn't be affecting you. Do they not have alcohol where you come from?"

"Yes we do, and usually it does not affect me this way."

"Dizzy?"

"Yes, and weak. I felt this way the second day I was on your world. I thought it was an aftereffect of being pulled through the rift."

"When was that?"

"The first time you, Bray and Waycan went to look at the design."

Ran thought about what she was saying for a few moments, and then surged to his feet. "Come on, we have to hurry."

Mearisdeana tried to stand but fell back into her chair. In a moment Ran had picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder, and charged out the door.

"Tell me if you start to feel better," he said as he raced towards the path to the south.

At the edge of the village he found the trail without having to stop. The path was relatively flat and easy to follow, so he put all his energy into running. The only other time he had run this hard was when he had raced against Bray in The Games. Now he could be racing to save him.

"I feel better," Mearisdeana huffed from her position on his shoulder.

"Can you run on your own?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then follow me as fast as you can," Ran said as he flipped her off his shoulder without slowing. She sprawled in the dirt, but he could hear her running behind him after a few more strides.

He was wondering how far he would have to go to catch up to Bray when he heard the sounds of something just ahead. He pulled his sword. In a moment he burst onto the scene. The bear was up on its hind legs with Bray crushed to its chest. He saw the flash of Bray's knives as they plunged into the bear's sides. Bray's jerkin was slashed across the back, and his blood was running freely.

Screaming his war cry, Ran sprang high, bringing his blade down in a two-handed blow that cleaved the beast's skull. The force of his stroke knocked the bear and Bray over. Ran rolled free and came up sword ready for a second blow, but the bear had stopped moving, forever.

# Chapter 37

"It has to be the spell the wizard used. Nothing else would cause us to be linked. Can you think of a different reason? Does this happen on your world?" Bray asked.

"No, I have never heard of something like this, and there is no mention of anything similar in the texts I have read." Mearisdeana looked as disturbed about it as he was.

Bray was lying face down on a table in the home of the village healer. The old woman had washed the slashes the bear's claws had torn. She drenched the wounds in a concoction that stung mightily when applied. Now she was stitching the wounds closed. Ran was accompanying some villagers out to the bear's carcass. Mearisdeana was seated somewhere behind him and seemed to have gotten over her anger at Ran for dumping her in the dirt, as she called it. They had been discussing what had happened to both of them.

At first, when Ran explained what he thought had happened, Bray refused to believe him. Ran had lied and tricked Bray too many times in the past for him to accept such an uncomfortable idea easily, but with Mearisdeana backing up what Ran was saying, and his own body's reaction he had finally accepted that there was some type of link between Mearisdeana and himself.

"Do you feel anything else?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like my back. Can you feel the pain?"

"No, I do not feel anything else. It only happens when we are separated."

"Well, if it is caused by the spell that brought you here hopefully the other wizard in Waysley will be able to undo it."

"And to send me back to my home," Mearisdeana added.

Yes. Send you home and allow me to return to my true home in Nadia.

"I have finished," the healer announced. "Try not to put any strain on the stitches for a few days. You may experience some discomfort, but I was able to clean the wounds well. They should not get infected; however I do not perform magic. The claws and teeth of bears are as bad as those of the large cats for causing infection."

"Thank you," Bray offered as he stood. He moved to his pack and retrieved a cloth shirt from it. He had a second leather shirt, but the cloth would be less irritating.

As they stepped outside, Ran came strolling up. "You all patched up?" Bray just nodded. "Good, the villagers are roasting a pig. There is a celebration to honour what we did. I understand the maidens will dance. As the honoured guests we should have our pick."

"I believe I will have to forgo that pleasure tonight," Bray admitted.

"More for me then," Ran grinned.

"You are disgusting," Mearisdeana observed. "A woman is more than just something you bed."

"Take it easy, Scales. These small villages need infusions of new blood in order to survive. I am simply following the Mother's dictates. You might not have noticed it—buried in your cloak as you are, but we have been getting, pick-me-looks since we arrived."

"But what about the maiden you leave all alone with a child in her belly? What is she supposed to do? How does she survive?"

"She is not alone. She is part of the village. The girl and her child are cared for by the village or by her parents until she mates, and usually once she has proven she can bear a child she is chosen for marriage quickly."

"Oh, sorry, I did not understand."

Bray could see that Mearisdeana was uncomfortable having to apologize to Ran. He could be and had been abrasive with her. She was not as thick skinned as her hide suggested.

"Not everywhere is like that," added Bray. "I understand the larger cities shun single women who become pregnant, although I imagine Nadia is not that way. I am sure it takes care of any of its citizens who are in need." Ran snorted at Bray's comment.

They reached the village centre where a number of tables, benches, and blankets had been pulled out and spread about. The smell of roasted pig made Bray's mouth water. They were directed to a bench in a central location and presented with plates of food and mugs of ale.

Ran downed his ale in one gulp. Bray was not far behind in finishing his. Mearisdeana sipped at her mug as if expecting an unpleasant taste.

"Do you not have ale on your world?" Bray asked.

"We do, but earlier today I thought it was making me ill. I was being cautious, but it tastes quite good." She finished the mug with two large gulps.

"Caution is advisable," Bray advised. "This is strong drink."

"Don't worry about me," Mearisdeana said as she was handed another mug.

Plates of roast pork, fresh bread, and field greens kept coming until Bray was stuffed. Every plate was accompanied by two or three mugs of ale. The effects of the ale were apparent by the time the bonfire was blazing and the maidens came out to dance. Ran and Bray were both clapping along with the drum beat as the girls gyrated around the fire.

The music had a deep pulsing beat that seemed to vibrate through Bray's body. The girls stomped and wheeled before him. He could feel the arousal despite the pain from his wounds. He had just decided that he could use some pleasuring this night after all when Mearisdeana arose beside him and started to sway to the music. With a sudden movement she cast off her cloak and joined the dancers.

Bray almost choked as he tried to drink and gasp at the same time. He had seen Mearisdeana's face, hands, and parts of her arms. They had always been coated with gray rock like scales, but now her skin was as white as new snow. She wore a short leather skirt and a tiny linen shirt which exposed a lot of her upper body as she danced. She was breathtaking, and the sexuality that radiated from her reminded him of what he had felt when he had watched the sirens a few days before. She was having the same effect on the men of the village.

A villager tried to grab her as she spun by, but was knocked aside by another man. By the time she had circled the bonfire and returned to Bray and Ran there were two fights going on behind her. She stopped in front of them.

"I love to dance," she slurred as she continued to sway before them. Bray saw five or six men making their way towards her. He grabbed up her cloak, swirled it around her body, threw her over his shoulder and moved quickly towards the inn and their room. Behind him he heard Ran's deep voice, "Easy men. She has been claimed by my friend."

***

Consciousness came back slowly to Mearisdeana. Someone was calling her name, but she did not want to wake up yet. She curled into a ball under her blanket, but instead of making her feel better the movement brought a wave of nausea and a sharp pain above her eyes.

"Mearisdeana, wake up," a voice commanded.

"Let me help," another voice offered as her blanket was ripped away.

"You did that just to get another look at her. Did you not satisfy your lust last night? You were at it for hours," the first voice said.

She felt the tingle of cold air on her skin as she tried to understand what was being said. Lust... another look, what was—it all came flooding back, the ale, the celebration, the dancing, being flung over Bray's shoulder. Her eyes popped open. Bray and Ran were both standing beside her bed. Bray was holding a mug out to her.

"Drink this," he offered. "It should help."

She took the drink to cover her confusion. She was only going to take a sip, but one taste and her head screamed for more. As she drank she felt coolness spread through her body, a coolness that matched the cool air on her skin—her _nightskin._

"What happened?" she asked timidly.

"You danced with the maidens," Bray answered.

"You got drunk and performed the maiden's dance," Ran added.

"Did I make a fool of myself?"

"No, you were quite good. So good that you caused three fights and one stabbing," Ran answered with a smirk. "I will have to come up with a different nickname for you."

"Why were the men fighting?" Mearisdeana asked.

"Because you excited every man there. I saw an old cripple holding his pecker and trying to stand up to get to you."

"I do not understand. Why were they after me?"

"To bed you, woman," Ran told her.

"To bed me? Why would they think I would allow them to bed me?"

"Because you were dancing, of course." Ran was sounding exasperated.

"Women who perform in the maiden's dance are saying that they are available for bedding," Bray explained. "Your beauty made all the men wild."

Mearisdeana was beginning to remember. "You threw a cloak over me and carried me here," she announced. "I cannot remember anything after that."

Ran gave her a wicked grin. "Too bad, that was when the fun started."

"You—no, how could..."

"He did not," Bray told her.

She looked at him. "You?"

"No. No one touched you. You were drunk. You passed out."

"And after you threw up, you lost some of your appeal," Ran added.

"Now, if you can drag yourself out of bed, we have a journey to continue. The woman I was with last night gave me the name of her brother. He is a fisherman in the village we are headed for. She thinks we may be able to catch a ride on his boat to Swanrock," Ran informed them.

Mearisdeana grumbled, "Oh wonderful, another boat ride." Bray hid his smile. Ran did not.

# Chapter 38

"Nailmoe, wake up," Adamtay insisted as he kicked his friend's foot where it stuck out from under the blanket.

"Not yet. I see no daylight."

"It is dark because we are in a cave, remember?"

"Barely, the last few days have been a whirlwind, my Prince. Did you at least make breakfast? I would love some bread fried in bacon fat and topped with cheese. I went to a lot of trouble to pack all that food you know, and for the past days you have insisted on boiled grain for the sake of expediency. We have to slow down and eat something more substantial, or we will be useless when we reach our destination."

"Yes, I made breakfast." Adamtay watched his friend struggle out of his bedding and stagger to the fire. Nailmoe was right. He had been driving them hard for the last three days. They could afford a good meal this morning. After all, they would need their strength today. They had arrived. "Eat hardy, my friend. I am going outside to check the trail."

The cave they had sheltered in was located at the foot of the mountain where the caveworm made its home. The cavern was large in the sense that the horses, all six of them, could share it with the two men without crowding. It was round in shape, with a high ceiling, and a dry sand floor. It was as deep as it was high and had only one egress. A point he had checked carefully the night before. They did not want a caveworm sliding out of the black depth of the cave while they slept.

Before he reached the opening to the outside he pulled up the hood of his cloak and jammed his hands into his gloves. They had both been living in their scaled _dayskin_ as they travelled, even at night—this was a wild section of the country, there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. Facing a caveworm would be challenging enough.

"We will leave the chargers and food packs in this cave," he told Nailmoe when he returned. His friend had finished eating, and was scouring the pots and dishes with sand before packing them away.

"We have arrived then?"

"Yes. The trail up is steep, but not dangerous. One pack animal should be enough to carry the pikes, shields, and bows. I suggest the small pack horse because there are a number of sharp turns."

"The obstinate one? It might be better to carry our own weapons. It will be a struggle to get him up the mountain side."

"At least he will stay put while we are in the cave. Not likely to wander off."

"Just lazy if you ask me."

"I will wear my sword," Adamtay said.

"Good idea," Nailmoe agreed as he set off to unpack their weapons. "How large do you think this worm will be? I didn't get a good picture from your uncle about what to expect."

"Neither did I. Truthfully, I do not believe he knows. The books he referenced were ancient. Supposedly, it is a young dragon or a larval form of a dragon," Adamtay answered as he saddled the pack beast.

"How can it be a young dragon if dragons disappeared ages ago? They have been gone for so long that even the illustrious Court Wizard has forgotten them, and your uncle does not forget much. He certainly has not forgotten that little fling I had with his daughter."

"I doubt he ever will, my friend, unless you marry her." While Nailmoe coughed and choked, Adamtay continued. "My niece is very personable when you get to know her. One night might not have been enough time for you two to get properly acquainted."

"I got to know her just fine, thank you. She is a typical courtesan—vain, narrow-minded, and shallow. Sometimes I think you got the only interesting woman around." For a moment silence roared in the cave. "I am sorry, Adamtay, that was insensitive of me. We will get her back. I am sure of that."

The anguish Adamtay had felt after Mearisdeana was torn from him had diminished over the past few days, but he now felt it again as strong as ever. Pushing the pain down he attempted a smile which may have looked more like a snarl. "Yes, we will get her back," he said. "Ready?"

Nailmoe finished buckling on his sword belt and settling it on his hips. Grabbing the lead of the pack horse he responded, "Ready."

The trail turned out to be too narrow and switch-backed to allow the pikes to be carried by the pack animal, so they ended up each carrying one and using it as a staff. They were both leaning heavily on them by the time they reached the cave at the head of the trail.

They rested and ate some bread and cheese. Nailmoe unloaded the shields and the large crossbow. Leaving the pack animal tethered to a rock, they entered the abode of the caveworm. Each carried a pike. Nailmoe carried the crossbow. Adamtay carried a lit torch, with a reserve of three hanging from his belt. They both had shields strapped to their backs.

"Maybe we should make some noise," Nailmoe whispered as they lit the second torch from the dying remains of the first. They had crept silently on and on for a good while. The cave had turned out to be straight without any openings to either side. It did not appear to be natural.

"Additional noise is not necessary," boomed a deep voice from up ahead. "I have heard you since you entered, and if that was not enough the stench of your fear precedes you. Come forward."

The last was a command which neither Adamtay nor Nailmoe could disregard. Like marionettes dancing on the puppeteer's strings they were dragged forward. Within a few reluctant steps they could make out light ahead which soon overpowered the glow from their torch. They entered a large chamber ablaze in an unnatural glow, in the centre of which sat a dragon.

"So much for the young dragon idea," Nailmoe observed.

"Young? I have not been young for a thousand years. My youth has been drained from me while I sit chained to these accursed walls, and now the first visitors I have seen in eons come carrying weapons. Are you here to kill me, or have you been sent by the wizard as a snack to appease my hunger? I must admit I could use a snack after all this time."

"We have come for the Sword of Sacrifice," Adamtay found himself admitting.

"The weapons are for protection only," Nailmoe informed the beast.

Adamtay was wondering how Nailmoe could manage to lie like that to the dragon's snout. Natural ability he supposed. Regardless, it did spark an idea.

"We would gladly put them down if you would agree to not attack us. As my friend has said, we had no idea what we would find in the cave, so we took precautions. You appear to be an intelligent being of character. Perhaps we can discuss our options."

Now that the initial shock of seeing a dragon had passed, Adamtay was calculating possibilities as he spoke. The dragon had not evidenced any fire-breathing capabilities... so far. Perhaps that ability was a myth. The beast was attached to the walls on either side of the chamber by chains that ended at a large metal collar that encircled its neck. The chains appeared to have enough slack for the dragon to move around somewhat, but not enough to allow it to reach Nailmoe and himself where they were currently standing.

From paintings and pictures he had seen, Adamtay had expected a majestic beast with shining multicoloured scales and a noble, although elongated countenance. Instead, the scales were dull and lusterless. Where the metal collar encircled the long neck, they were abraded and appeared raw in places. Large bat-like wings were folded onto its back. The beast's face was impressive with a long snout, sharp hand-length teeth, and eyes that were hypnotic. Adamtay forced his vision away from the eyes.

"The Sword of Sacrifice is what you want, is it? Then we have a problem because I am its guardian. A mighty wizard placed me here to stop anyone from obtaining the Sword." The dragon turned its head to look at the black depth behind it. "The blasted Sword is back there. I can sense its magic. It is like a constant itch that I cannot reach, the most irritating of the many that I am cursed with."

With its head turned, the damage the collar was inflicting on the neck was clearly evident. Scales had been worn away leaving only the tender under-skin. Weeping sores and half healed scabs could be seen.

"Why do you guard the Sword?" Nailmoe asked.

"It gives my existence purpose. As you can see, I am a captive here. I have been here for more centuries than I care to count. Without the Sword to guard, my life would have no meaning. I would simply be a prisoner, without intent, and if I was here for no reason, I would go mad.

Adamtay glanced at Nailmoe. He believed they were both thinking the same thought. Despite its purpose the dragon was already mad. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing he did not know, but he was about to find out.

"What would you do if you were free?" Adamtay asked.

"I would leave this accursed dimension. I would find a world of my own and never think of this place again. But what you ask is impossible. These chains contain magic. Your feeble weapons could never free me."

"But the Sword of Sacrifice could."

The dragon's eye ridges rose as he considered Adamtay intensely. "That is a possibility. After all, the wizard put it here for just that reason. It could be used to gain entrance to something he did not want opened. What are you proposing?"

"If you let me pass, I will obtain the Sword and use it to free you."

"And I should trust you why?"

"Because I also have to trust you," Adamtay replied.

The dragon crossed its front feet and lowered its head until it rested on them. It reminded Adamtay of a cat watching a mouse.

"Explain to me exactly what you will do, in detail, leave nothing out," the beast finally demanded.

Adamtay indicated the left side of the chamber. "I will walk down this side—"

"You will leave your shield and weapons where you now stand and—"

"Yes, I will leave my shield and weapons here and proceed past you along this wall. I will obtain the sword and return here before I approach you. I will figure out—"

" _We_ will figure out."

"Of course, _we_ will figure out the best way to remove the chains and collar. I will do that and then we will go our separate ways."

"And your friend, what will he be doing after he puts his weapons down?"

"His friend will be standing here figuring out how best to kill you if you break your word," Nailmoe announced.

"I would expect nothing less," the dragon said with a smile that exposed all its teeth. "But I still do not know if I can trust you. Why do you need the Sword?"

"My intended was pulled through a dimensional rift of some sort. The Sword will allow me to open a wizard's crypt to obtain some crystals which can open a passage to her, so that I can bring her back."

"The Crystals of Light and Blood?" the dragon asked.

"Yes, you are familiar with them?"

"Quite. The wizard who possesses them is the same one who imprisoned me here. Does he still live?"

"It is doubtful. He sealed himself away ages ago, and has not been seen or heard from since."

"But if he does live, what will you do?"

"Whatever is necessary to obtain the crystals."

"If he still lives, will you promise to kill him? If you make that promise, I will gladly hold to our bargain."

"I am already planning on killing the wizard who took Mearisdeana away, so what will one more dead wizard matter? I promise."

"Then we have a bargain. You may proceed."

Adamtay and Nailmoe laid their weapons and shields aside. Nailmoe grabbed Adamtay's arm in a soldier's embrace—forearm to forearm. "If this goes wrong I will avenge you and bring her back," he whispered.

Adamtay straightened his back and squared his shoulders before marching past the dragon. In the dimness behind he could barely make out a stone altar with a thick covering of dust. Below the dust something lay, causing a mound running lengthwise along the top. The Sword, he surmised. Removing a glove he used it to brush along the length of the item, attempting to ascertain what was blade and what was hilt. He reasoned that a sword that could cut anything was probably sharp enough to remove a digit. Carefully he brushed away the dust of ages until he recognized the shape of a sword hilt. Pulling his glove back on he dug his hand into the dust and closed it around the hilt. As he lifted the Sword the rest of the dust fell away revealing a scimitar with a thick curved blade and a jewel encrusted grip. Sword in hand, Adamtay headed back to Nailmoe.

The dragon watched him intently as he made his way to the front of the chamber and then approached. Its head was up now, no longer resting on its crossed front feet. "Be careful man. My teeth are sharp."

"And very long," Adamtay added. "I will put the Sword down here while I... _we_... decide how to free you. Would you lower your head?"

Before doing so, the dragon unfolded his front feet and extended one out. It almost touched Adamtay's back. Adamtay tried to ignore it as he studied the chains and collar. The collar was made of two pieces. The end of each was bent outwards and contained a hole through which the last link of each chain passed.

"If I cut this final link, the collar will open," he told the beast. The dragon's neck was long enough to allow him to swing his head around to see where Adamtay pointed.

"I am going to pick up the Sword now and test it on the chain. Please lower your head." Slowly, using only one hand, Adamtay retrieved the Sword and moved up to the dragon's neck. Gingerly, he reached out with the blade and stroked the final link of the chain. The Sword flowed through the metal leaving a notch about a quarter of the way into the thick link.

"It cuts!" the dragon exclaimed.

"It certainly does," Adamtay agreed. "But we will have to position the chain so that when it breaks through it does not injure you."

"That would be wise for all concerned," the dragon agreed.

After the dragon performed some squirming around and used one massive foot to claw the chain taunt, they were ready. Adamtay held the Sword firmly in both hands, placed it against the metal and, with controlled force, drew it swiftly across both sides of the link. The severed chain fell heavily to the ground leaving a nub of metal holding the two parts of the collar together. The dragon reared up with a mighty bellow. With one front foot he grabbed the remaining chain and drew it tight. For a moment the nub held before the force tore the collar apart. It was flung across the chamber with enough force to make the ground shake. The dragon roared, and swooped towards Nailmoe who dove out of its path. It ignored him and shuffled in an awkward crouch down the entrance tunnel. In seconds it was gone.

"I do not think I packed enough under garments," Nailmoe observed.

# Chapter 39

Vee watched the other captains as Needles finished the sand drawing of Waysley. No one had openly baulked at the idea of taking Waysley as a new home, but open displays of discontent were few these days since he had killed the last two men who disagreed with him. These captains seemed to like the idea, now will they like the plan?

The fog that had crawled across the island for some time had dissipated, allowing the sun to blaze down on the men as they stood on the firm sand by the shore. In no time the sun was steaming the dampness from their gaudy clothes. Needles finished the drawing and stood inside the lines with the long drawing stick still in hand. The sixteen captains Vee had invited to attend stood in a loose circle around the picture.

"The walls be log, bout twice a man's height, and there be two gates set in stone with a gatehouse and stone crenellation above," Needles explained, "and four stone guard-towers along the walls, here, here, here and here." He pointed to the locations of the four towers and then to one of the gates. "The Water Gate be two long bow shots from the wharf. There be some warehouses and other buildings closer to the water, but there be an open area—more than a bow shot wide—between the buildings and the walls."

"The killing ground," Wolf Blackheart, captain of the _Foam Skimmer_ , interjected.

"It goes around the whole city," Needles continued. The Woods Gate be here at the other side of town. It services the farmers, woodcutters and miners. The road travels to the mines which be a three day cart ride into the hills.

"There be only forty or so city guards in the town's garrison. They sentence law breakers to work in the mines, so there be sixty or so guard there, but they be too far away to do any good. We will outnumber the full complement of guards by three or four to one."

"The killing ground is what bothers me," Blackheart commented. "It suggests a commander with experience and influence. He could be a problem."

"The Captain of the Guards was killed dead in a botched robbery attempt just before we left," Needles put in. "That be what it looked like anyway. Story be that a pickpocket tried for his purse, was grabbed before he could flee, but managed to stick the captain with his knife. They be both dead by the time they were found. The thief be one we had grabbed to learn about sneak holes through the walls. He had talked without too much persuading."

The captains murmured their approval. Vee stepped forward.

"The plan so far be to sneak into the city with a small group of men, led by Needles, through a thieves' hole. They will remain hidden until the main attack. The rest of us will divide into two forces, one for each gate. I will lead the attack on the Woods Gate. Cracker will lead the Water Gate attack. Blackheart, I want the _Foam Skimmer_ to handle any ships found in the harbour. Choose another captain to assist you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Am I to be in command?"

"Call it what you will. Use two more ships to block the harbour entrance to keep the merchant ships contained, maybe set fire to a few on your way past. The rest of our ships will land their men and attack the gate. That will draw most of the guards to the Water Gate. That be when Needles' group will force the Woods Gate open as my men attack. That will draw guards back to the Woods Gate. Needle's group will then open the Water Gate, and except for some cleanup the city be ours."

Most of the captains could be seen nodding their heads as they thought over the plan. Vee expected Blackheart to mouth some veiled insult to the details, but when he opened his mouth he asked a question.

"How many sneak holes are there?"

"Three."

"Then why not send men through all three? One group could run into trouble and fail to open the gates. There would be a better chance of success with two more groups."

"Good thought," Vee admitted. "We'll send in three small groups."

The rest of the captains murmured their way from acceptance to enthusiasm. Before the day ended, Vee sent them all off to gather the rest of the captains and ships with instructions to be ready to sail by the next new moon.

# Chapter 40

Mearisdeana sat hunched over in the bow of the boat. The water all around terrified her, although this larger boat was better than the prior two. Bray and Ran stood at the rail on both sides of her facing the direction of travel. She clung to her knees with her mind and eyes closed to the water. She tried to concentrate on the lovely walk through the woods from the Village of the Bear, as they were wont to call it now.

It had taken most of two days to reach the fishing village on the coast. Granted, they had made a late start and had traveled slowly... reluctantly for her. She knew another boat trip was imminent. They had found Ran's night-mate's brother easily enough. He had agreed to carry them the following day to the one and only port on the island of Swanrock for a fee of two silver coins. His boat was a small, two-man fishing craft. Mearisdeana had kept her eyes closed for most of that trip, just like she was doing now.

This ship was larger—a six man crew, counting the skipper—and it seemed to slide through the waves instead of riding them up and down as the last one had, but she was still terrified. Travelling on water was unnatural.

The skipper had told them to stay out from underfoot while his crew got the ship underway. She thought that was okay. The men appeared competent in the work they did while the ship was tied up at the dock, although they looked like a dangerous and dirty lot, which matched her general impression of the ship. Some of the larger ships they had tried to obtain passage on had raised areas at the front and in a few cases at the back end too. This boat, although larger than the previous one, was built with a flat deck like the fishing boats. She thought she would prefer one with the raised areas as they would keep her farther from the water. She sensed the ship's movement change and braved a look around.

They had cleared the mouth of the harbour some time before and were running easily through the undulating green-blue liquid. She could see the coast some distance away and falling behind. They must be into the channel between the islands that the men had talked about.

She could see all six of the crew from where she sat at the bow. The skipper, a bloat of a man, was at the stern by the large sweep-rudder, his hand resting easily on the steering mechanism although the tiller appeared to be tied off at the moment. The four sailors were tidying ropes, two on each side of the deck. Their gaudy, multi-coloured, mismatched clothing made them and the mate impossible to miss. The mate must have just left the skipper. He was walking towards them, settling his sword belt as he came. All the crew wore short swords, something she had not noticed before. The other fishing crews had only worn knives.

"Swords?" she queried before the mate came too close to allow her to continue. She was not certain that Bray and Ran had heard her, but Bray must have, for he turned to look down the ship. He flashed a hand signal to Ran. Both men were facing the mate when he arrived.

"The skipper will see you now," the man announced. The mate reached his hand down to help Mearisdeana to her feet. He indicated for all three to precede him towards the stern where the fat skipper stood, feet apart, arms clasped behind his back. The smile plastered on his face exposed broken, blackened teeth.

Ran led the way, Bray behind him. Mearisdeana walked between Bray and the mate. The sailors were on either side of them when Mearisdeana felt the mate's sword slash across her back. Without her _dayskin_ she would have died. As it was, the slashing barely caused her to miss a step. She grabbed her knife and turned on the mate with an angry snarl.

She could see the surprise in his eyes as he tried to recover with a backhand stroke. She stepped in close as her instructor had taught her, bringing her elbow down on his arm and stabbing into his exposed side with her blade. Muscle-memory from her early years of training caused her head to snap forward in a brutal head butt. The mate collapsed.

Mearisdeana spun around in time to see Bray's fist chase consciousness away from his second opponent. Ran's two were already down. He was advancing on the skipper who held a sword for only a moment. Ran seemed to simply walk past its point and knocked it to the deck. He grabbed the man by his thinning, scraggly hair and forced him back against the stern railing.

"You need me," the skipper screamed. "You need someone to sail the ship."

"One of mine is alive, any others, Bray?" Ran called out without taking his eyes from his prisoner.

Bray looked to where the mate lay on the deck. "Is he alive?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Two of the sailors and the mate," Bray answered.

"Actually you are not needed," Ran informed the skipper as he plunged his blade into the man's belly and dumped him backwards over the railing.

Shortly, Ran had the remaining live crew members held at sword point against the amidships railing. He had slapped them awake, brutally.

"We could use help sailing the ship," he addressed the mate first.

"I will never—" the mate started, but was interrupted when his head flew from his body. With a slight nudge from Ran's sword point the body followed the head into the water.

Both of the remaining crew decided to help. Ran put them to work.

"Did you get hurt?" Bray asked Mearisdeana as Ran came back to them. "Your cloak is slashed across the back."

" _Dayskin_ is impervious to blades."

"The armoured lady is full of surprises," Ran stated.

# Chapter 41

"We should have killed them," Ran said as he, Bray, and Mearisdeana walked up the wharf towards the walls of Delvingford.

"For what purpose?" Mearisdeana asked.

"They tried to kill us."

"They tried and failed. They are not likely to try again. You killed four of their friends, remember?"

"It is not wise to leave enemies at your back," Ran stated flatly, as if it was a rule everyone understood and lived by.

"You should try to make some friends instead of enemies."

"Everyone is an enemy until they prove they are not, right Bray?"

Bray did not bother to answer. He just continued to stare at the town gates. Ran also studied what lay ahead. All they could see at this time was the stone-framed gateway set into the log walls that ran away to each side. Columns of large stone blocks formed the gate supports. Ran estimated that with outstretched arms he could span the blocks, but just. They were as tall and deep as they were wide. Buttresses of somewhat smaller blocks extended outward all around the columns base and rose to a tall man's height.

The gates themselves were constructed of rough cut timbers bound in metal strapping. Ran estimated they were a hand span thick and about a forearm wide. The three large metal hinges on each side were well greased, but he reasoned the gates would still be slow and ponderous to close. A surprise attack could see an enemy inside before the entrance could be blocked. Ran frowned at his thoughts. It was hard to break the habits of years even when you did not care anymore.

"State your business," one of the guards said as he stepped forward.

"We need to book passage to Waysley," Bray responded. "Can you tell us who we should see?"

"If it was me, I would head to the Floater's Rest. It is a decent inn where reputable captains do business. Tell the innkeeper what you want and he will guide someone to you."

"Thank you, friend," Bray stated as he led them off in the direction the man had pointed.

From what Ran could see, this part of the town, closest to the harbour, was dedicated to warehouses and shipping offices. Goods were being unloaded from and onto wagons, mostly tethered to heavy bodied horses. The smells of fish dominated. Men, both local and those from the ships in harbour, filled the road, scurrying back and forth. The crowds diminished as they travelled further into the city. The warehouses were replaced by guild buildings and craft shops full of metal, leather, and canvas workers. The contents of the craft shops improved as they drew closer to the inn.

The Floater's Rest proved to be everything the guard had promised, as well as easy to find. The innkeeper was a smallish man whose arms were covered in tattoos of a mermaid, an octopus, two anchors containing female names, and five flags also containing names that Ran supposed were ships he had crewed on. His friendly countenance was marred by a scar that ran from his forehead to his right cheek and probably accounted for the eye patch he wore.

Again Bray did the talking, arranging for a single room; their length of stay to be finalized when their passage to Waysley had been arranged. They dropped their packs in the room which contained four straw mattresses on short, well-made, although crude, beds. A well-equipped washstand stood against one wall, and a window on the opposite wall allowed in light and a warm breeze. Mearisdeana requested they leave her alone to freshen up.

Ran and Bray returned to the inn's common room which was starting to fill as the light of day retreated. They ordered ale. Mearisdeana joined them not long afterwards.

She drew stares from those in the room because she had thrown her hood back and was using her _nightskin._ She had wrapped a bandana around her head to hide the fact that she had no hair. Ran was not sure if her pale almost white complexion or her beauty drew the most attention. She was perhaps more striking than the other woman in the room who had caught his eye.

That one was seated at a table by the door surrounded by five burley sailors. Wild red hair covered her head, the first redhead Ran had ever seen, and her visible skin was burned brown from repeated exposure to the sun, although in the cleft between her breast there was a hint of whiteness that drew his eyes. When he looked back to her face she was watching him, so he blew her a kiss. She did not respond. A barmaid arrived to take their meal order. When he looked for the woman again, she was gone. Ran felt more volume added to the emptiness that always accompanied him these days.

After dinner the innkeeper approached their table with another man in tow. "Friends, allow me to introduce Tyhan Door, first mate on the _Red Witch_. Tyhan, as I told you, these people are looking to book passage to Waysley."

"Well met, strangers," the lanky hard-boned sailor said. "I think we can do some business." He hooked a chair out and sat. "The _Red Witch_ will be in port for two more days, leaving on the morning tide of the third. We can accommodate passengers if you are interested."

"What would be the fare?" Bray asked.

"Five silver each, and you will be expected to help with some chores."

One and a half gold for the three of them Ran calculated. With what it would cost to stay at the inn they could afford it. He looked at Bray who tapped the table top when he nodded. "It sounds good," Bray announced, "if you can excuse our woman from chores? She gets sea sick."

"Two more silver then if she does not work."

"Deal," Bray stated as he slapped the tabletop.

Tyhan stayed to chat until his beer was gone before excusing himself. Mearisdeana and Bray kept Ran company for some time before they said goodnight. Ran decided to stay down and join a card game at one of the other tables.

# Chapter 42

Nailmoe dropped the scroll onto the table. "Did you find anything on that read through that you missed on the other four?" Adamtay asked.

"No, but I am still going to read it again. As soon as my head stops hurting... and as soon as I have another glass of wine." He motioned for the barmaid to refill his goblet.

The common room of the Tower's Shadow Inn was almost empty. It was late and only the dedicated drinkers and a few inn guests were left. A single fire burned in the fireplace beside which the musicians were located. Adamtay stretched in his chair and considered calling it a night. This was only the sixth inn they had overnighted in during the three weeks they had been travelling since acquiring the sword. It would be nice to sleep in a bed again. He was tired of pitching tents and sleeping rough, but whenever he felt sorry for himself he thought of what Mearisdeana must be suffering. The anger he felt about her abduction kept him moving forward, and now his anger had brought him to the second challenge to be faced, entering the Crystal's Keep. They would attempt to do that tomorrow.

"This is useless," Nailmoe admitted as he tossed the scroll on the table again. "Your uncle's notes tell us nothing new. 'An impenetrable magic cage gets extended over the whole keep', is all he says. He seemed more interested in speculating about how it was done rather than what happened to the wizard who made it."

"The wizard must be dead and turned to dust," Adamtay said. "It has been close to two thousand years since he sealed the keep. Even powerful wizards do not live that long."

"But you saw the tower today, how do you explain its pristine condition? It looks like it was built last year."

"I admit it is a mystery. I thought I saw some stains around the base as we rode by. Maybe it is starting to wear."

"What you saw is more likely the splatter of blood and brains of those who tried to climb the tower to gain entrance."

"Relax; we will not attempt to scale the outside. The Sword will gain us entrance. The Sword my uncle's notes helped us find, remember? You should trust him more."

Nailmoe scowled. "Remember? How can I forget? A caveworm he said... not a dragon. No... a caveworm, but what did we find? A full grown dragon," he whispered forcefully.

"I doubt if that dragon was full grown," Adamtay responded with a smile.

"Full grown, half grown, what is the difference? It was large enough to eat our pack horse and everything on it as it escaped. It could have snacked on us just as easily."

"But we still live, do we not?"

"And I for one would like us to remain in that condition."

"You could stay outside and wait for me."

Nailmoe laughed. "And have to face your parents and your uncle to tell them you are dead? No, my friend, I do not see that as an option. We go together."

"Then we should retire to our beds and get some sleep," Adamtay said as he pushed himself away from the table.

Nailmoe drank off the last of his wine. "Sure, sleep, that should be easy," he grumbled as they made their way up the stairs. "A woman would help, but I haven't enjoyed a woman's company for so long I swear I am virginal again."

***

Adamtay found it difficult to sleep. He was getting closer to his goal of reaching Mearisdeana, but there were so many unknowns playing through his mind, the biggest being how she was being treated by the wizard who had stolen her. Adamtay tossed and turned as thought of her occupied his mind and eventually his dreams.

The music from the common room, and his thought of Mearisdeana seemed to pull at him. The music changed. The strings faded away. The drum beat grew until he could feel it in his being. He seemed to be floating high above a blazing fire. Around the fire shapes moved, dancing shapes, dancing bodies, and one called to him. A shape that shone as none of the others could, a shape that called to his heart, Mearisdeana. Suddenly she stopped moving and swayed provocatively in front of two figures, two young men. One jumped up, threw a cloak around her and carried her off. Adamtay awoke. He pushed the vision away from his consciousness, but he could not push the anger away. He swore to himself and to Mearisdeana that he would kill the wizard.

Adamtay was not good company the next morning. Neither he nor Nailmoe spoke as they broke their fast and packed up. Together they rode out of the inn's yard and took the road to the tower. The town was a good distance behind, and they were into the barrens when four men blocked the road ahead of them.

"There is a toll for using this road," the largest and ugliest of the four proclaimed as he held his hand up.

Adamtay's hand dropped to the hilt of the Sword of Sacrifice and pulled it free.

"That is a foolish move, man. There are four of us, and you know that swords are useless against dayskin."

Without a word Adamtay jumped his charger forward. The Sword of Sacrifice chopped down on the robber's arm. The spokesman screamed as his arm fell away. A second sweep of the sword found the neck of the bandit on Adamtay's left. His decapitated head flew towards the man on his left who batted it away with a cry. Adamtay swung the sword back towards the first man and removed his head also.

"Feel better?" Nailmoe asked as he watched the remaining two would-be-thieves race away.

"A bit."

# Chapter 43

"Are you trying to be funny?" Bray asked.

"No," Ran answered. "I lost all my money playing dice. In fact, could you loan me three silver pieces? I was a little short on what I owed."

Bray gaped at Ran. "I don't understand you. You lose all your money, and now you want me to loan you more to pay off your debt. You must be... why I would... how you can think—"

"Never mind then. I will find another way to pay off the debt." He proceeded to devour the large breakfast selection he had picked up from the buffet, completely ignoring the fact that he could no longer pay for his stay at the inn or his meals. Bray shook his head in disbelief. He was still shaking it when three men walked up to their table.

"Do you have the silver you owe me?" the smallest of the trio asked as he pulled out the one remaining chair.

"No. I am afraid my travelling companions are keeping their pouch strings drawn. You will have to give me some time to make the money." Ran shovelled more food into his mouth before continuing. "Would you know of any work around here?"

The small man smiled showing gold capped teeth. _Here we go_ , Bray thought.

"I do know of something that might interest you. How would you feel about fighting for some money? There is a weekly bout with prize money for the winner. I might be able to get you in."

"How much is the purse?"

"Usually four gold pieces."

"Weapons or hand-to-hand?"

"No weapons. It is just a friendly match. Are you interested?"

"Why not," Ran stated.

The man stood. His gold teeth flashed again. "I will see what I can arrange. Be here around mid-afternoon," he stated before leaving the table.

Bray watched the three leave the common room. "I hope you know what you are getting yourself into."

"Oh, what can possibly go wrong?"

Bray heard Mearisdeana snort. It summed up his thoughts exactly.

***

Gold-teeth returned in the late afternoon, trailed again by his two large protectors. He led Ran, Bray and Mearisdeana to an open storage area behind a warehouse down by the dock gate.

"The fights are organized and controlled by the Bentmen," he explained as they walked. "Anyone can put a fighter in as long as they pay the entrance fee. I paid your fee for you. We will add it to the three silver you owe me and take it from the prize money."

"And if Ran does not win, what happens then?" Bray asked.

"Then he only wins on his side bets, right?" Ran stated.

"Exactly," Gold-teeth answered with a laugh. "I cannot lose no matter who wins."

"Who are the Bentmen?" Mearisdeana asked.

"They are the thieves' guild," was the answer.

Ran noticed that Bray was shaking his head again. Gold-teeth pushed his way through a crowd of men into a cleared circular area. "Wait here," he ordered. Ran watched as he made his way across the open space to a group of men gathered around a bare-chested individual he figured was the other fighter. Ran striped his jerkin off and started stretching.

"We have a problem," Gold-teeth announced when he returned. The referee says the match is not even. You are in a different weight class than your opponent. The match is forfeit, and they will not return the entrance fee. You now owe me another three silver."

Ran smiled. He had been expecting something like this. He continued to play his part. "Is there nothing that can be done? Do they have a larger fighter?"

"Their heavy-weight fighter is not around," Gold-teeth paused, "but you have another fighter available."

Ran expected Bray to say something, but he just stood silently shaking his head. Eventually Ran spoke. "I would do it if I could, Bray, but you heard them, wrong weight class. Not my fault."

"It is always your fault, Ran," Bray stated as he stripped off his jerkin, "and it always lands on me."

Bray made his way to the centre of the circle amid cheers and jeers. Ran bent his head to Mearisdeana. "Follow my lead, girl," he whispered. "Who are you betting on?" he asked Gold-teeth.

"I have to go with the regular. No offence to your friend, but I have never seen him fight."

"What are the odds?"

"Three-to-one on the regular."

"Will you take a bet of one gold on my friend?"

"I thought you were broke."

"Not for me, for his girl here." He pulled Mearisdeana forward.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Mearisdeana whispered when the bet was firm.

"Watch," Ran answered.

The two men circled each other testing for an opening, searching for a weakness. Ran had fought Bray many times over the years. He knew that Bray would wait for his opponent to make the first strike. He would block a few punches and kicks to gauge the man's strength and speed before he made his own move.

The man attacked with a sequence of blows using knees and feet, an attempted elbow jab and a flurry of punches. Bray blocked them all. His next attack was almost identical to the first. Ran identified where he would make his move if he was fighting. The final punch was a roundhouse aimed for the jaw which he would allow to strike his shoulder as he stepped in to begin his own attack.

Bray must have decided on just that move because as the man finished his next flurry of strikes, Bray did exactly what Ran would have, but instead of initiating his own attack, Bray rolled away from the punch to his left shoulder. His left arm dropped to his side. Ran saw Bray attempt to raise the arm, but it looked as if it was a dead thing. As Bray spun away from the man Ran saw the blood on his shoulder. He glanced towards Gold-teeth who was displaying all his gold, but his smile disappeared immediately as Ran reached out and grabbed him by the ear. Gold-teeth's body guards started to step forward.

"Take one step and I will rip this ear off his head," Ran growled. Mearisdeana spun around to face the bodyguards. Ran saw that her knife was in hand. The two toughs stepped back. Gold-teeth whimpered.

Bray's opponent started another attack. His face ran into Bray's foot. He staggered back. Bray's second kick struck the other side of his head causing the man's eyes to glaze. Ran listened for the sound of the man's knee breaking as Bray foot struck the side of his leg. "Softy," he thought when the sound did not come. The fighter still crumpled. Bray stepped forward onto the wrist of the man's outstretched arm and then stomped his other foot onto the man's hand. A piece of metal with three wicked spikes extending from it rolled from the man's now open hand.

Ran stepped forward dragging Gold-teeth by the ear. "You call that unarmed?"

The circle suddenly became larger as men started to shuffle away. "Hold where you are!" an authoritative voice said softly. "Kill anyone who tries to leave," the voice continued. A barrel-chested man stepped into the circle as guards carrying crossbows suddenly appeared at the entrances to the yard. His authority was obvious as the man walked to Bray. He knelt and picked up the device from the downed fighter's hand.

"Sorry, son, this type of thing is against my rules. How is the arm?" Ran heard him say. For such a large chested man his voice was amazingly soft.

Bray was able to move his arm some. "Getting better," he responded, "but be careful, there is some type of numbing agent on those spikes."

The man motioned to the large henchman with a scarred face who had followed him into the circle. "Take him to the warehouse and find out who put this together." The downed fighter was lifted by his hair and dragged away.

"Make your payments, or gather your winnings, and get lost," he ordered the crowd. He turned and walked over to Ran with Bray following behind.

"I am named The Baker," he announced when he reached Ran. "I lead the Bentmen here and, no, I do not call this unarmed." He held out the metal. "What can you tell me about this, Watt?" he asked Gold-teeth.

"Never seen it before," Watt whined. "Make him let me go, Baker. My ear is almost off."

"When I find out what I want to know, Watt. Terry was your fighter, right?"

"Yes, Terry fights for me, but I would never put him up to something like this."

Ran was sure he could guess how this talk was going to end. "This weasel owes us money," he told The Baker.

"Well then, by all means pay up, Watt."

Watt managed to reach into his pouch and extract some coins. "I could do this better if you let go of my ear."

Ran kept his outstretched hand open and the other one closed around the man's ear. Watt started counting coins into it.

"Four gold for winning the fight, and three more for your bet. The last has to be in silver. I do not have any more gold pieces."

Ran released Watts ear, and picked six silver coins from the wealth now gracing his palm. "The three I owe you from last night, and the three for the entrance fee."

"The entrance fee is only two silver," The Baker announced.

Ran reached over and picked a silver coin back out of Watt's hand. "If I see you again, Watt—" He left the sentence unfinished. "Let us return to the inn. I need something to wash this bad taste out of my mouth."

As they walked away, Ran heard The Baker speaking quietly. "Now, Watt, let us find Terry, and see what he has to say for himself."

# Chapter 44

The three companions had just finished dinner when Bray recognized The Baker's henchman as he entered the inn's common room. He made his way to their table. "The Baker would like to see you," he announced. "He said there was no rush if you were still eating."

"I believe our meal is finished," Ran informed him as he stood. Bray and Mearisdeana followed his lead.

The henchman led them to a bakery not far from the inn. The Baker and three other men were seated in a large space outside a smaller inside office. A lamp sat on the table, casting the only light except for the glow from below the ovens in the back.

"Thank you for coming," The Baker said in his soft voice, while a friendly smile graced his heavy features. "Please have a seat. Did you get dessert at the inn? I have a lovely apple pie here if you are interested."

"It smells wonderful," Mearisdeana answered immediately. "I would love a piece."

"Certainly," The Baker motioned to his henchman. "Anyone else?"

All the others indicated no. The Baker waited until Mearisdeana had her pie before he proceeded.

"These three business men were Watt's partners," he explained to Ran and Bray. "Watt has left the business, and they assure me that they knew nothing of his deviations from the rules. I am inclined to believe them. They also tell me that Watt has left them in an awkward position. Their reputation has been destroyed by his actions, and the debts they had to pay out after the match today were enough to ruin them. With their reputation gone they have no way of reversing their fortunes and, unfortunately for them, they still owe me money for my services. If they could stage another fight they might be able to recoup their losses and start over. I was wondering if you would be interested in fighting tomorrow." He addressed that question to Ran.

"The same amount of prize money?" Ran asked.

"Yes."

"What about the weight class?"

"That will not be a problem. Their heavy-weight fighter has returned to the city."

"And they feel they will make enough money with one fight?" Bray asked.

"They will put it forward as a grudge match. Their heavy-weight fighter is the older brother of the man you beat today."

"I have no problem with that," Ran told everyone.

"I would like to state one condition," Bray put in before anyone could slap the table. "This is the last of it, no matter who wins, no matter how hurt either fighter is at the end. As long as no weapons are used there can be no recourse. This ends the business."

When no one objected, The Baker slapped the table. "You have my word on it."

***

When they pushed through the crowd into the circle the next afternoon Bray laughed aloud. "Well, they got the heavy-weight part right," he said with a grin.

"That man is a giant, Ran!" Mearisdeana said with concern.

She was right. The man was huge; a full head taller than Ran by Bray's estimate, powerfully muscled, and long faced like the moose he resembled.

"They probably call him Tiny," Bray observed.

Ran finished stripping off his jerkin and started stretching. Ran was a big man, muscled and rippled like the warrior he was, but he looked like a youth compared to his giant opponent.

"You are enjoying this too much," he commented to Bray who continued smiling.

Bray turned to a man behind them. "What are the odds?"

"Ten to one on the giant," was the reply.

"Well, I have four gold to support my friend. Any takers?"

He was almost crushed by the number of respondents. With the bets placed, he slapped Ran on the back. "Go get him," he said as he pushed him forward.

"He is going to get hurt," Mearisdeana stated.

"Maybe," Bray said.

"Then why did you bet on him?"

"It is his money. He can do what he wants with it."

"But if he loses, we are back where we started, without the money to cover his fare."

"No, he is back where he started. We have enough to cover our fare." Then he lowered his head and whispered, "Ran has only lost a fight to one person since he turned sixteen years. He will win."

"Who beat him?" she whispered back.

"Me."

Both fighters had reached the centre of the circle. The Baker was there acting as referee with a white apron wrapped around him. He had them both open their hands. "When you hear it," Bray heard him say as he walked to the edge of the circle. He turned and whistled. The giant charged.

Ran ducked left. The giant's hand barely missed his face. _He is fast,_ Bray thought. Ran rolled left on the next charge also. The giant barely missed again. On his third charge the giant anticipated Ran's move. At the last moment he reached far to the left, but Ran had ducked right. He spun and launched a brutal kick to the giant's exposed side. Bray heard ribs crack. The giant, unbalanced went down. Ran attacked without mercy. Bray heard bones break every time Ran's knees, feet, and elbows landed. He literally kicked the consciousness out of the man by stomping repeatedly on his head. He was not even sweating when he walked back to Bray and Mearisdeana.

There were a number of dark looks as the bets were paid, but no one said a word to Bray although he noticed The Baker was in a heated argument. Bray made his way over after he collected his winnings.

One of the three men from the previous night's meeting was arguing loudly with Baker. "You agreed to the conditions," Baker stated softly.

"But look at our fighter. He will be out of commission for months."

"You agreed to the conditions, and I gave my word on your approval," Baker stated.

"I do not stand by your word. You can—"

He never finished his statement. Baker reached out, grabbed his throat, and squeezed. "But I stand by my word," he said as he lifted the man from the ground. "Do either of you want to say more?" he asked the other two. "Good. Now leave and take this piece of garbage with you." He dropped the dead man at their feet.

"Come over to my place for pie tonight, Bray. Bring your friends. I am writing a letter of introduction for you to my counterpart in Waysley. It might come in handy."

# Chapter 45

I will be alright, Mearisdeana assured herself. It is a much larger ship. This is my fourth trip on water. There is nothing to fear. It is a larger ship. I will be fine. The thoughts rolled through her mind, over and over, like the waves she could hear lapping on the sides of the ship as they walked up the wharf. The rising sun was starting to chase the shadows away when they reached the Red Witch.

It was a much larger ship with a raised area at each end and a large mast in the centre. Aside from the smell of the water around them, there were no offensive odours coming from this vessel as there had been from the other ones they travelled on. But she could see holes along the side as they approached.

"It has holes in it. We should find another," she said. Her voice sounded as anxious as she felt.

"They are for the oars," Ran told her. "Refer to them as oar ports."

She counted the ports, anything to distract her frantic thoughts. Fifteen holes, fifteen oars per side. Thirty oars in total. It was indeed a much larger ship.

"I see the fellow we arranged passage with," Bray stated. "Do you remember his name?" Ran said nothing. "Tyhan Door," Mearisdeana offered. "He said he was the first mate."

"Right," Bray turned and walked easily up the narrow plank that accessed the ship's deck. The plank bounced as he walked. Mearisdeana let Ran go next. She waited for the bounce to finish before she walked the plank, taking care not to look at the water below her. When she reached the end, Ran lifted her down to the ship's deck, spinning her around as he did. He was in a playful mood with his winnings from yesterday in his pouch.

Mearisdeana could see the difference in this ship compared to the others. The deck was clean and uncluttered. Sailors were busy mopping morning dew from it while others were wiping the railings. Everyone she saw looked busy. This was a cared for ship, even the ropes that still secured them to the dock had their excess neatly coiled into spirals where they lay on the deck adding to the sense of order.

Tyhan Door, also looking clean, trim, and erect, was at their side shortly after they stepped onto the timbers of the deck. "Good, you are here on time. I will get the cabin boy to show you to your berths, and then take you to the captain to pay your fares." He looked about. "Whitey," he called. A young boy with hair so bleached it looked white, came running. "Take them to the passenger cabins, and then to the captain. Wait for them and bring the men back up here. I will put you on the oars while we get underway. Then we can talk about your experience and abilities." He turned and walked away bellowing orders that Mearisdeana did not understand.

"Follow me," the young boy told them in a voice that cracked. His eyes stayed on Mearisdeana as he tried to see into the shadows beneath her cowl. He finally gave up his attempt, and led them to a door at deck level, leading into the raised area at the front of the ship. They followed a short corridor past a neat cooking area to the last two doors, one on either side of the hallway. "Two berths, one berth," he told them indicating which door accommodated what. Mearisdeana took the single without comment.

Whitey then led them back out the corridor and across the deck to an entrance in the raised area at the other end of the ship. A stair led to the upper level which was dominated by a large spoke wheel set close to the rear railing. Whitey knocked on the door.

"Come," a voice commanded.

Whitey opened the door and led them into a large, well-appointed cabin. The right wall contained a built-in, stand-at desk that was surrounded on both sides by square pigeon holes stuffed with rolled up bundles of paper. A number of bundles were spread out on the desktop. Mearisdeana wondered how they made the paper large enough. The left wall contained a clothes chest and a large bed. Mearisdeana estimated it would almost be wide enough for two bodies, but was definitely wider than the one she had glimpsed in her cabin. The rear wall contained a substantial floor-to-ceiling square column that effectively separated two glass doors which were open to a balcony. Everything was made of a rich, highly polished, reddish wood. Along with the odour of the wood, Mearisdeana could almost smell the love that had been lavished on the room. In front of the opening sat a large, carved, wooden desk. Behind the desk and in front of the doors sat a high-backed wing chair containing an individual. Mearisdeana could not see the captain clearly. The light streaming in the doorway was blocked by the chair and placed the person's features in shadow.

"Our passengers, Captain," Whitey reported.

"Thank you, Whitey, please wait outside," the captain said as she stood. "I am Manda of Gore, Captain of the _Red Witch_. Welcome aboard my ship. I trust you have your fares."

"You are the wench from the inn," Ran blurted before anyone else could speak.

"Aboard my ship you will refer to me as Captain, not wench, and you will refrain from blowing kisses at me, unless you want to swim home. Now, your fares?"

"Yes, we have our fares, Captain. Your mate told us five silver each for us and seven for our friend. Water upsets her. She will not be able to work." Bray spread their fares on the desk. He had collected them from Mearisdeana and Ran the evening before. It seemed to Mearisdeana that Bray had not trusted Ran to still have his money in the morning.

The captain ran her eyes over the coins, but left them lying on the desk. "Whitey will take you back to Tyhan. You will be on the oars while we get underway." She directed that statement to Bray and Ran, then she turned to Mearisdeana. "If you get seasick you should not stay in your cabin. It is better to be able to see the line where the sky meets the water, unless the sun is also a problem."

Mearisdeana allowed her cowl to fall back revealing her _nightskin._ "Water terrifies me. Where I come from we do not have it in this volume. The sun does not bother me. I have a natural protection from sunlight, but it could upset your crew. Judge for yourself." She let the scales of her _dayskin_ slowly appear.

Manda's eyes opened slightly wider, but that was the only discernable change. "I see what you mean. I will have Whitey return you to your cabin. Join me at the wheel if you desire some fresh air." She raised her voice, "Whitey?"

The cabin door opened immediately. "The men to Tyhan, return the woman to her cabin, and tell Tyhan to get us underway."

***

From her place at the wheel Manda let her eyes rove over the _Red Witch_ , and further out to the horizon. She had caught a fine wind when they had left Delvingford harbour, and it had persisted for the day. If the weather held, they should see the first of the Chimney Isles shortly. She would change course then and run parallel to the islands, but far enough out to avoid their rocky shoals. Every sailor knew that the Chimneys were pirate territory. She would stay well away from them, if the weather held.

A movement towards the bow caught Manda's attention. Her strange female passenger was leaving the doorway to the cabins, her first appearance on deck since they had set sail.

"Whitey," she called. The cabin boy was washing down the deck around her feet. She indicated the woman. "Ask our passenger if she would like to join me here. Lend her your arm if she agrees. She looks unstable."

"Yes, Captain," Whitey carefully stowed the mop he was using and skipped away. The woman must have agreed because shortly he was leading her aft. It was obvious from her stiff movements that she had no feel for the roll of the ship. Clearly not accustomed to sailing.

Her male companions were doing better. They had taken to the oars without complaint as she guided the ship out of Delvingford harbour and, despite their lack of experience, they were doing well with the daily tasks set for them. Both were sure footed and worked the rigging ably. This afternoon she had Tyhan set them to shifting cargo in the forward hold. It was a hot stifling task, but neither had refused. She had actually enjoyed watching the bigger one when he had left the hold, shirtless and dripping sweat, a little pay back for the wink. She pulled herself away from the image in her mind, and smiled at the female passenger as she arrived.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A small bit, thank you."

"I have never suffered from seasickness, but I understand it can be quite uncomfortable."

"I am not sick as much as terrified," Mearisdeana told her.

"Terrified? Of what?"

"The water." Manda's look of disbelief must have prompted Mearisdeana to continue. "There are no lakes or large bodies of water where I come from. I understand that they existed a long time ago, but these days water is extremely scarce. In fact this is the first time I have seen such a thing. The way it moves terrifies me, like a living thing trying to reach out and pull me in." She gave a slight shudder before continuing.

"This is the fourth boat we have been on, and it is definitely the best so far. The others were far too small for my liking. They bobbed about on the waves instead of cutting through them like this ship does."

"Yes, we are riding heavy with a full load of cargo. If we were lighter, the waves would affect us more."

"Bray and Ran told me about the load of cargo you carry. You are a merchant then?"

"Both my father and I are merchant traders. His ship, the _Seahawk_ , is larger than this one, but I'm faster. You will probably see it at Waysley when we arrive. We're to meet there. You should hold the wheel support," she told the woman. "It will help stabilize you."

"Thank you," Mearisdeana said as she reached out and gripped the support.

"Were your friends complaining about moving cargo today?"

"Well, Bray never complains and Ran complains all the time about everything, so yes and no."

"Have you known them for long?"

"Only for a few weeks. Why do you ask?"

"They seem an unlikely pair, almost cold to each other, although from what I have seen they work well together. Can you tell me anything about their past."

"Not really," Mearisdeana admitted. Manda got the impression that she did not wish to discuss the men, so she changed the subject.

"Do you have business in Waysley?"

"Bray and I have to see someone."

"Other Travellers?" Manda asked. A questioning expression crossed the woman's face.

"Your friends are Travellers, are they not? Ran certainly looks like one."

"We are all travelling," Mearisdeana answered the puzzled look growing more expressive.

"Traveller is a term used to describe a group of people who are nomads. They travel individually, or in small family groups, sometimes in multi-family caravans. They all have that dark swarthy look that your friend Ran has. Many sport pony tails like he does, both the men and the women. They are tinkers, entertainers, and traders. I believe they are all fighters because, like your friends, they all carry weapons that they seem to be comfortable with. Are your friends good with their weapons?"

"They appear to be," Mearisdeana answered with a smile.

"Excuse me for a moment," Manda said. She had noticed the top of a Chimney Island on the horizon. She whistled to Tyhan and indicated a starboard turn. Tyhan called commands and sailors sprang to the ropes.

Watching the sail, keeping as much wind up as possible, she eased the wheel over slightly. The Red Witch responded. This was what Manda loved, had always loved, since the first time her father had her hold the wheel, balancing the forces of wind and wave with her body. She loved this more than anything else. No man had ever made her feel this way. A few had tried, but so far none had come close.

The turn was almost complete when the lookout called, "Weather off the starboard bow!"

Manda cursed to herself. This area by the Chimneys was famous for two reasons: pirates and fog—chimney smoke some mariners called it. Neither was good. She searched where the lookout had indicated, but all she could see from the deck was a thin ribbon of white along the horizon. She stayed her course and kept a watch.

"Is something wrong?" Mearisdeana asked.

"We might be in for some fog."

"What is fog?"

"It is like a cloud sitting on the water."

"That does not sound good."

"Believe me, it isn't, especially in these waters. We will have to find a harbour or risk tearing the bottom off of the ship."

"I think I understand. If the fog catches us, you will not be able to see obstacles, and the ship could be damaged."

"That's correct."

"How do you know where to go when the land is not visible?"

"We use a lodestone. It sits in this bowl here. It always points to the North. With knowledge of the lakes, and charts of known obstacles, you can maintain a course and stay in deep water. At night we can keep an accurate heading using the stars, but fog obscures all. Keeping true to a heading is difficult then, if not impossible. If we ended up in the Chimney Islands in a fog, we would definitely run aground. The Chimneys are dangerous even when the sun is shining."

"Why?"

"Because there are so many of them, and they come in all sizes. Many are of a size that a person would have to cling to the vertical rock rather than stand on level ground. Those are the most dangerous during a fog or at night. Sailing through the Chimneys is like sailing in a maze." Mearisdeana still looked perplexed, but Manda did not have time to explain at the moment. "Fog!" the lookout called.

"Destroyer," Manda cursed. "The fog is coming on fast. We need to find a harbour." Men were scrambling to the ropes. Tyhan was barking orders. "Ready," his voice boomed to her. She eased into a turn to port, swinging back to slightly starboard of their previous heading. Manda did not want to seek shelter at the first of the Chimney islands. She knew of a small cove not too far into the maze that would do nicely, and she knew the safe channel to reach it. All she had to do was beat the fog.

***

Mearisdeana had watched the wall of fog with dread and wonder. The _Red Witch_ had seemed fast to her before, but now she questioned if it would win this race to the island. The gray menace behind them seemed to pounce forward at times sending out tendrils that grasped at the fleeing ship. Mearisdeana's heart was pounding. She imagined a gapping maw in a horrible face straining to reach them from within the fog. She tore her eyes away.

Manda's body was pressed against the wheel, like lovers entwined, her eyes locked on the fast approaching land. As Mearisdeana watched the fog wall, small islands like huge termite mounds began to populate the waters around and before them. She could see one directly ahead that seemed to offer sanctuary. They were racing towards it at speed. She glanced behind. The fog had swallowed the rear of the ship; it was no more than a few paces away. Everyone was silent, frozen in position, men waited at the ropes, at the pulleys, and at the oars she realized. Suddenly the arms of a cove encircled them. The race with the fog ended as Manda called, "Now!"

The sail crashed down, six pair of oars dropped to the water, skipping along the surface before finding purchase and digging in. She heard a loud crack as one split asunder. Both anchors were suddenly spooling out. Mearisdeana's grip on the wheel housing was torn loose and she was thrown forward, coming to rest against a railing. The ship rocked and bobbed uncomfortably and then became still.

Mearisdeana glanced at Manda. She was pressed even tighter against the wheel, driven there by the sudden stop, but she was smiling. Tyhan was relaying orders quietly. The sailors were already at work pulling ropes, turning cranks, and straightening canvas. They too were smiling. The fog enveloped the ship.

Mearisdeana shuddered as she felt it. She climbed to her feet and wrapped her cloak tightly around her body. For moments she did not breathe, but then necessity forced her to take air into her lungs once more. The air felt moist and cool as she drew it in, actually not an unpleasant sensation at all. It rinsed away some of her tension.

Later, when everything was shipshape, they lowered a small boat and ferried everyone to the beach. A fire was started, and food was prepared. It was dark when Mearisdeana realized the fog had disappeared.

"The men are going to swim," Manda informed her after dinner. "Let us wander down the beach. I would like some privacy from them."

They walked away from the camp. Mearisdeana's eyes adapted quickly to the night once away from the fire. A tiny sliver of moon was sailing up a sky that was ablaze with stars. She let her _dayskin_ slip away. They followed the beach until they came to the mouth of a small river.

"This is a lovely spot," Mearisdeana commented. "The way those trees on the far bank dip down and touch those flowers floating on the surface is beautiful."

"You can see that?"

"Yes, quite clearly."

"Amazing, it is nothing but shadows to me, and I am known for my excellent eyesight."

"My people work mostly after the sun goes down. We do not have to cover ourselves with cloaks and our _dayskin_ when we are outside at night." Mearisdeana pushed her hood back and removed her cloak. "This air feels wonderful on my skin."

"I am going to bathe. The river is shallow here, not over your head. You should try it if you want to feel something wonderful, and truthfully, my friend, you and your cloak could use a wash," Manda informed her as she stripped off her clothes.

"I do not think I could," Mearisdeana whispered.

She watched as Manda walked into the river. This water was almost still. It was not reaching for her, and it did nothing to harm Manda who stopped when the water reached her waist.

"You should at least come out a bit and wash your cloak," Manda said. She suddenly sunk into the water and disappeared below the surface. Mearisdeana was about to scream when Manda popped back up, leaned backwards and started scrubbing at her long red hair. She continued to move freely in the water and the sounds of pleasure she vocalized made Mearisdeana smile.

She eventually stripped off her outer garments and walked carefully into the water until it reached her knees. She pushed her cloak into the liquid and soon had it and everything else soaked. She had to admit it did feel refreshing. With her cloak washed she took it out and hung it on a bush, stripped off her clothes, and walked back into the water. Manda was sitting peacefully with water lapping around her neck. Mearisdeana walked out to her and sat down. The feeling took her breath away.

"Will you wash my back?" Manda asked. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, out of the way.

Mearisdeana rubbed her hands gently over Manda's back. When she was finished, Manda did the same for her, and then held her head while she rinsed it.

"Your lack of hair makes this easy. I have always preferred long hair, but after seeing what you look like with almost none I might reconsider. Is this a preference for you?"

"We all have little or no hair on our heads. It probably has something to do with our ability to change skins. I was actually thinking how wonderful yours looks, especially the red colour. I did not know that was possible, although I probably should have guessed from the light colour of Bray's hair. Thank you, Manda, for helping me into the water. You were correct, it is a wonderful feeling, cool after the day's heat, and... tingling. It is not anything like I imagined."

"You are more than welcome. I hated to see you terrified all the time. I hope you are feeling better about it now."

"We will see tomorrow. Shall we head back?"

They made their way out of the water and stood idly while the breeze dried their bodies.

"That is a lovely necklace you have on. May I look closer?" Manda asked.

"Of course. My betrothed gave it to me. I hope it will bring him to me. I was told it contained magic."

"Magic or not, it is bewitching. If I possessed something like that I would make sure it was visible all the time, not hidden away beneath a cloak."

"The habits of a lifetime are difficult to dismiss even when you know that they are no longer necessary. My cloak affords me a sense of protection, and someone told me that I should protect myself when I use my _nightskin_. It has never been exposed to the sun."

"Then it makes sense to keep covered as much as possible," Manda said. "We should dress."

When Mearisdeana had pulled her clothes back on, she went to gather her cloak.

"Look at this," she exclaimed. "The slice through my cloak has been repaired. The sewing is excellently done. Look at how tiny and even the stiches are, and strong too." She looked around and then stared into the woods. "Who would do such a thing, and why?"

"My guess would be a leprechaun. It is a wonderful sewing job. If you have any coins in your pouch, you should leave one to pay for the service."

Mearisdeana retrieved a silver coin from her pouch and placed it carefully on top of a stone beside the bush. It sparkled in the moonlight. "What is a leprechaun, and why would it mend my cloak?"

"They are a type of faerie, a magical creature, known for their tailoring abilities. Many of the little people do chores or services in exchange for food or money. Leprechauns and the Far Darrig prefer to receive money for their services. It is believed that they possess pots of gold and jewels."

Manda started telling her about the little people as they walked back down the beach. After a few steps Mearisdeana glanced back. The coin was gone.

# Chapter 46

The Master of the Crystals they called him. He had a different name before, but after more than two thousand years he had forgotten it. His original name was one of the few things that had deserted him over the years; at least that was what he believed. If there were other details he had forgotten, he did not care. He still retained his life, his strength, and his riches.

He admired himself in the looking glass. No lines marred his face. Perhaps there were a few small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, but they had been there when he set the spell that preserved him and his tower.

After all, it had taken him three hundred years to find and obtain the crystals and the wealth he sought. His blood-magic had kept him young in those days, but after locking himself away, it was no longer necessary. Blood-magic had kept him young and blood-magic, along with the crystals, had allowed him to secure all the fantastic treasures that now graced his home, and would continue to grace it through eternity until the end of all.

From the way things looked these days, the end of time was not too far away. He estimated another thousand years would see the death of this world. Before then he would have to find another dimension, move there, and lock himself away again. Before the demons he had stolen the crystals from could detect them, if they still searched after all this time. But before that, he had to figure a way to overcome the backlash from his own spell.

Originally he felt that two or three thousand years would be a fine life span. Now he knew it was not. When he secured his tower, he did not care about the devastation breaking the spell would cause. It would be a fine way to end his life. After all, nothing except his own will or the Sword of Sacrifice could open the tower and break the spell. He would not do it until he was ready, and the sword was guarded by a dragon. It was safe.

***

"It looks brand new," Nailmoe told him, stating the obvious.

The tower shot straight up out of the earth forcing Adamtay to strain his neck as he tried to view the top. It shone in the sunlight, sparkling with rippling colours as if finished yesterday. Even at ground level and close up it showed no signs of age. What they had seen as wear from a distance the other day had turned out to be an impressive accumulation of small animal and bird carcases.

"Magic," Nailmoe said, again stating the obvious. He stretched his hand out. "I am stopped from touching the door. It feels like there is a force holding me away."

Adamtay tried with the same result. He pulled the Sword of Sacrifice from its scabbard. Nailmoe moved out of his way. He had developed a strong respect for the sword after seeing it slice through the _dayskin_ of the men who had tried to stop them earlier. Adamtay reached out and slashed the sword across the door. It left a mark.

"We may not be able to reach it, but the Sword can. I am going to see if I can cut around the door." He inserted the point of the sword between the door and the jamb on one side. With a strong pull he ran the blade down from top to bottom. The blade slowed slightly at the latch but was not stopped. Adamtay repeated the movement across the top and down the other side. The hinges cut as easily as the latch.

"I still cannot touch the door," Nailmoe reported as he pulled his hand back. "Maybe you have to cut all the way around. Try the Sword across the bottom."

Adamtay ran the blade across the bottom of the door. Nailmoe tried to touch the door, but was repelled. "How are we supposed to open it if we are unable touch it?"

Adamtay considered the question, and then stabbed the sword into the centre of the door. With the blade driven part way through the barrier, he twisted the sword to give it purchase and gave a mighty yank. The door pulled away. From inside the tower and far above their heads they heard a blood-curdling scream.

"Oh, that doesn't sound good. Do you think the wizard preserved himself as well as the tower?" Nailmoe reasoned, looking skyward.

"If he did, he is in trouble. The door just turned to dust."

"And the tower is beginning to crumble," Nailmoe screamed. He yanked Adamtay through the doorway into the tower, as a large block crashed down where they had been standing.

They had entered a circular room with a stairway running up one wall. In the centre of the room, on a raised pedestal, sat a number of glowing crystals. Before they could move, a large block of stone crashed through the ceiling of the room and smashed to rubble on the floor.

"Hurry!" Nailmoe cried as he sprang towards the crystals. Adamtay was right behind him when he reached the pedestal and started stuffing crystals into the pouch he carried.

Another scream sounded from above. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Adamtay had a fleeting glimpse of long scraggly hair, blackened teeth, and long claw-like nails. He stepped forward with his sword in hand just as a number of blocks crashed down on the creature. The stairway collapsed, hurling it and everything else to the floor. More of the tower crashed through the ceiling.

"Get out!" Adamtay screamed. He spun back to Nailmoe who was reaching for the last crystal. Adamtay grabbed him and yanked him away as a block crashed down on the pedestal, shattering it and the remaining crystal. Adamtay and Nailmoe sprinted for the door, dodging pieces of the disintegrating tower. They charged outside as part of the wall around the doorway broke away. Bent over, shoulders hunched, expecting to be crushed at any moment, they ran until the chaos around them subsided.

When they finally stopped and looked back, the tower was a pile of blocks that were quickly turning to dust, crumbling away before their eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adamtay asked.

Nailmoe patted himself all over as he brushed dust off his clothes and out of his hair. "Physically I seem to be fine, but I'm positive I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life."

# Chapter 47

"Come," the demon lord commanded.

The guards pushed the large doors to the throne room open, and thrust him through the minimal opening. He staggered, recovered, and grovelled his way across the floor towards the throne. The demon lord was looking out the windows to the left of the throne. Ratner chanced quick furtive glances at Transgarin as he traversed the long room. As far as he could tell the lord was not angry. Flames were not evident between his massive horns, black blood was not oozing from his eyes or ears, and he could see no drool dripping from his snout, and he distinctly remembered those characteristics from the last time he was here. Ratner allowed a kernel of hope to blossom in his chest, but kept his eyes cast downward on the warm stone beneath his feet to be safe. He felt the heat when Transgarin cast his gaze upon him.

"You sent for me, My Lord?"

"Ratner, come closer. How nice it is to look upon you after all this time. How long has it been?"

"Two thousand and three hundred years, My Lord."

"And do you remember why you have been away from my court for such a long period of time?"

"Certainly, My Lord, I could never forget such a transgression."

"Remind me."

Ratner tried to find some saliva to swallow, but his mouth stayed dry. If Transgarin had actually forgotten his transgression, he did not want to remind him, but to not comply with the lord's command was also not advised.

"It was the loss of the crystals, Lord. I was on guard when they were stolen."

"You were asleep when they were stolen, you mean."

"I swear My Lord; the wizard cast a sleeping spell upon me. That is the only explanation I have been able to reason out." In truth, he had been asleep, but as miserable as his life had been for the past twenty-three hundred years, he was not ready to give it up, and admitting he had been asleep would see his life ended. Of that he was sure.

"I have never believed you, Rat, but because of your years of service I gave you the benefit of my doubt. Today this affair has entered a new phase."

Ratner waited but finally had to ask. "Has something happened, My Lord?"

"Yes, Rat, something has happened. I can sense my crystals again. They are no longer hidden from me, and I am sending you to find out what has happened. Do not try to retrieve them. I do not want to see them lost again. Simply find out what has happened and return here with the information. Is that clear?

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good." Transgarin tossed something to Ratner. "This will guide you to what I sense. And Rat, if you fail me in this, I will personally suck your brains out through your horns. Now be gone."

The throne room disappeared and Rat found himself standing on a hilltop, knee deep in dust, and surrounded by creatures that were milling about and scrounging through the dirt. He managed to kill three before the rest escaped. It was a mark of his luck returning, to have a food supply waiting for him although the shells of two of these animals proved difficult to open. He had to remove limbs and heads to get at the meat.

He tore off a few succulent pieces and, as he ate, he considered the item Transgarin had thrown to him. It was a black sphere that easily fit into his hand, about half the size of the heads of the animals he was eating. When he arose to grab another piece of meat, he noticed that the sphere sparked with an internal light. Experimenting, he realized the spark occurred when he turned towards the centre of the dust pile. He pondered the meaning of this while he finished the rest of his meal. Transgarin had told him the sphere would lead him to the crystals, therefore he reasoned the flare of light could be an indicator of which direction he had to travel to find them.

It took Ratner some time to figure out where to search. He was not at his best considering that he had spent the last twenty-three hundred years existing on scraps in an area famous for erupting volcanoes and noxious gases. He had not been an exceptionally bright or loyal demon before his excommunication. The food he had devoured was helping him revive, and he felt that his thoughts were quieting. He was getting himself under control, but in truth he was as mad now as he had ever been. Despite his madness, he knew he should not anger Transgarin again, so he searched diligently for the crystals.

Eventually, he found some shards and the shattered remains of one crystal buried in the dust. When the orb refused to spark significantly when held in any direction, he reasoned he had done his best and, after prowling around the surrounding area for the night, he returned to Transgarin.

The demon lord was sitting in the same chair, in the same position, with the same expression on his snout when Ratner was allowed in through the throne room doors. He grovelled his way forward, and laid the broken crystal and fragments within Transgarin's reach.

"Are they all broken?"

"This is the only one I found, Lord."

"The orb did not detect any others?"

"It only sparked for these pieces, Lord."

"Tell me everything that occurred and all that you observed, Rat. Leave nothing out. Your continued existence depends in it."

Ratner recounted every nuance of the trip, even down to the taste of the meat. When he was finished, Transgarin considered the tale before calling his chamberlain to him.

"Fufflorcain, arrange a room for Rat, and have him supplied with food. Put guards on the door, we would not want him to wander off. Also I want a squad of orcs ready to accompany him in a fortnight.

"Rat, I am sending you back to retrieve the other crystals. I will create something that will allow you to find them, no matter how far away they have been taken. I will also send a compliment of orcs for you to command. They will be charged with killing you if you mess up in any way. Do I make my wishes clear?"

"Yes, My Lord, I will not fail you."

" _This time_ , Rat, you will not fail me _this time_."

# Chapter 48

When Manda and Mearisdeana got back to the camp, Manda was surprised to see that the fire was out. Tyhan met them as they arrived. "Captain, something you should see."

He led them down the beach and around an outcrop of rock. He pointed across the water at a light flickering in the darkness. "We have neighbors," he whispered.

Across the dark waters Manda saw the unmistakable light of a fire. She was about to say 'One boat will not be a problem' when her peripheral vision caught sight of another, and then another, and then more, lots more. All the islands appeared to be populated.

"Pirates," Manda swore.

"We are going to have trouble trying to slip out of here tomorrow morning. Even if we get past the closest island, we will not know how many others are occupied once the sun is up."

"Not all the islands have fires," Mearisdeana informed them.

"You can see the islands?"

"Yes, I can see quite a few of them."

Manda considered their options and made a decision. "We go now." she announced.

"I will get the men ready," Tyhan said before he sprinted away.

The sky was ablaze with stars by the time they were ready. The need to be noiseless made the packing and loading of the ship a slow process. Things were done cautiously, but eventually they were ready.

Manda had experienced sailors on the oars. Bray and Ran were tasked with raising the anchors along with three other men. They could not winch them up for fear of noise, so four of them dragged the anchors up hand over hand while the other one coiled the chain. When they were finished, they joined the line of signalers behind Mearisdeana.

She stood at the bow with men spaced out in a line behind her, stretching back to Manda at the wheel. Later some of the men commented that they felt like puppets. Mearisdeana raised her arm to indicate the direction to take and puppets mirrored her action. Manda steered in the direction indicated by the closest puppet's actions. Ahead of the _Red Witch_ was a black hole to Manda's eyes, and as long as it remained nothing but a black hole she was happy. Unfortunately her imagination wanted something more. Visions of her ship crashing into an island that was suddenly too close to miss plagued her. She had to trust the puppet she could see.

They crept silently along on muffled oars. As the protective arms of the harbour were left behind, the ship turned starboard away from the closest of the fire lit islands, past two black unlit islands, followed by three quick turns to port, starboard and port again until a final swing to port put them back on the open waters of the lake. Manda was back in her element, steering by the stars, taking them away from the islands, and then swinging to port to run along beside the string of Chimneys barely visible in the starlight, but keeping well away from their dangerous, often rocky, coasts.

When the last turn to port fell behind them, they raised the sails and abandoned the oars. With a sigh of relief and a prayer to the Mother, Manda ran them smoothly down the length of the Chimney Islands. The sun was climbing out of the lake when the tip of Pointer Island appeared. Manda made for a sheltered, hidden cove she knew of, slightly past the point, on the leeward side of the island.

With Pointer Island clearly visible Manda gave a piercing whistle to wake the crew. All had remained on deck, but many had succumbed to the boredom of a sailing ship at night, lying down on the deck beside their posts or stretching out on an oar bench. Now they rose bleary eyed and slow moving. Tyhan started calling orders. Soon the crew was scampering to chores with their usual efficiency. Manda felt her fatigue in every muscle, but she smiled, thankful for Tyhan's competence and a well-trained crew.

She maneuvered the _Red Witch_ into the cove. They had sheltered here before, and the crew knew what she intended without her having to issue orders. This sheltered inlet was graced with a wide sandy beach that dropped off into deep water almost immediately. If she ran the ship up on the sand it could not be seen by passing ships. With skill and a feel for appropriate speed displayed by few other captains, she did exactly that. Immediately a rope was stretched out from the bow to a large tree growing at the edge of the beach. The _Red Witch_ was secure. Manda allowed exhaustion to flood over her. She heard Tyhan issuing orders and setting a watch as she made her way down to her cabin and into her bed.

An insistent knocking and the calling of her name pulled her from sleep. She recognized Tyhan's voice and knew that he would only awaken her if it was necessary. She rolled out of bed and, realizing she was still dressed, made her way to the door.

"Sorry to wake you, Captain, but there is something you need to see."

She nodded and he led her to the bow of the ship. They scrambled down the rope that secured the ship to shore, and he led her along the beach and onto the spit of land that hid them from the lake. The trees were thick there. In the gloom they cast, she made out someone crouched at the top of a hill. He turned as they made their way up the rise. She recognized the big passenger with the dark complexion. Ran.

Manda had not spoken to him during the trip. She had observed him doing shipboard chores, but had not had reason to speak to him or the other male passenger as she had with their companion, Mearisdeana.

He smiled at her as she scurried up the last few feet. She remembered that smile from the tavern at Delvingford where he had winked at her, and felt her face start to flush. She attempted to stand up, but he reached out and stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She started to wrench her arm out of his grasp, but he had already let her go.

"Cover your hair first," he advised softly as he reached up to his cloak and flipped it from his back to hers. The movement was fluid and graceful. It reminded her of water moving around a ship. He settled the cloak's hood on her head and then shimmied up to the crest of the hill on his stomach. She followed his example.

Looking out at the lake she involuntarily gasped. A line of five ships was passing their vantage point. Large ships capable of carrying large crews. Their names were undecipherable, but the flag they all flew could not be mistaken. She had run from that flag at times, and had known captains who had lost everything to the ships that bore it. It showed two crossed swords on a blood red background, the flag of Yucan Vee, leader of the pirate armada.

"Ten have already passed," Ran spoke quietly as he slipped back down below the hill's crest.

Manda watched from where she lay. Two ships at the head of the line were lost from sight, and two more joined at the far end. Finally she slipped down to join the two men. She had remained at the top to think as much as to watch. Her mind was groggy, her eyes gritty, and her exhaustion was like a physical weight on her. It had taken her a long time to realize the full implications of what she was seeing.

"They intend to attack Waysley. It is the only answer that fits. My father awaits me there. I have to warn him."

"Even if we follow as soon as the last one passes, we are still behind them. We cannot reach Waysley first," Tyhan stated.

"Could we not take a different route?" Ran asked. "What about the other side of the island, the side we used to get here?"

"The windward side of Pointer," Tyhan exclaimed. "Too dangerous at the speed we would need. We would have to be almost on the rocks in order to catch enough wind."

"But it is the only way," Manda announced. Decision made, she rattled off orders. "Tyhan, get the ship ready and floated. I need sleep. Wake me when we are ready to leave. Ran, you stay here and keep watch. Let us know as soon as the last ship is past."

"I will need to change position in order to make sure all stragglers are gone." He turned to Tyhan. "I will signal from this side of the opening to this cove. Look for me there."

Manda was back at the ship preparing to climb to the deck when she realized she still wore Ran's cloak.

***

Manda tried to sleep, but the preparations underway to float the ship kept her aware. Eventually the noise faded away, and she floated into a state of semi-consciousness. Memories of her father and mother bobbed around her.

The death of her mother many years before had almost destroyed her father. He had taken to drink, made bad decisions, and had lost a number of cargos. They had been deeply in debt by the time she left school, at fourteen years, and joined his crew. With the help of a few loyal sailors who had been with her father since before his... problems, she had learned the ways of the trade and mastered them. After a few years her father had lost his love of the drink. This had a lot to do with the concoction she had gotten from a wizard in Gore and slipped into his grog every night. It had taken many months, but eventually he became a man again, and together they had sailed his ship the _Seahawk_ out of debt and into prosperity.

Four years ago they had contracted to have another ship constructed by a renowned builder in Gore. Three years ago, Manda had taken the _Red Witch_ on her maiden voyage. Ships built in Gore were legendary for the craftsmanship they displayed. She considered her ship the best of the best. Manda met her father regularly in different ports to review business she told him, but she admitted, to herself only, that she worried about him falling back into drink. He had only ever loved two women in his life, her mother and the _Seahawk_. Losing one had almost destroyed him. Losing the other surely would.

The call to awake came far too soon. She splashed water on her face and made her way to the deck. The _Witch_ was bobbing freely while the oarsmen held her in place.

"We are ready, as soon as Ran sets us loose," Tyhan told her as she took over the wheel.

Manda saw Ran sprinting along the sand heading for the rope that held them to the shore. As soon as he untied it the ship started moving towards the mouth of the inlet. Ran sprang forward across the beach, dove into the water and with a strong stroke closed on the ship. She lost sight of him, but shortly he pulled himself over the railing. Manda turned her full attention to exiting the cove.

The oarsmen were pulling strongly as the _Witch_ entered open water. She steered them portward as they struggled around the jut of rocks that gave Pointer Island its name. They turned into the wind. Sails were impossible at this time. She heard Tyhan yelling at the rowers to put their backs into it. She noticed that Ran was back at an oar.

They inched forward fighting the wind until she was sure they were far enough away from the rocks to make the turn down the windward shore. Tyhan had the sail positioned to accept the wind. The red canvas came hissing down as they made the turn. It caught the wind and she felt the ship respond and try to keel over. She fought the movement. For a short time they trimmed the sails until she found a balance spot where the wind did most of the work, and then they were sailing, sailing to save her father and the people of Waysley.

***

Ran pulled his oar in and tied it off as did the others. He stood, stretched, and jumped up out of the ditch where the oarsmen sat. The ditches were waist deep areas on both sides of the main deck where the rowers' benches were located. They captured water that came in through the oar ports in rough weather and sluiced it away.

Standing on the deck, Ran tasted the freshness of the water infused air and felt the wind that was moving the ship. His leathers were still damp from his swim. They felt cool on his skin, and made him think of retrieving his cloak. The captain had taken it with her earlier when she left to ready the ship, probably an oversight on her part. She had much to occupy her mind at that moment, and he could tell she had been tired. He wondered if she had managed to sleep. He admired her. She was a strong, competent woman, but even the strongest need rest. His searching eyes located her up on the wheel deck. His cloak was thrown across the high bench behind the wheel, a railing that the helmsman could lean against.

Ran made his way up the slopping deck to the starboard side and then aft to the wheel deck. He stopped at the stairs. The captain had been watching him approach. She signalled him to continue.

"Stiff breeze," he observed when he reached her. "I thought to grab my cloak."

"Yes, certainly, sorry I made off with it."

"I am glad you did, otherwise it too would be wet," Ran replied as he slipped it over his shoulders. He could see the strain in her arms as she held the wheel. "Is it hard to handle the ship in a wind like this?"

Her eyes were scanning between the sail, the horizon, and the rocky shore. They included him for a brief moment before continuing the circuit. "It takes strength, but more than that, it requires a sense of balance. Would you like to try?"

"Yes, I would!"

"Then stand behind me and take hold of the wheel."

Ran slipped between Manda and the bench, trying not to impose on her space. He knew he was a large man, and that he intimidated some people when he was too close. He used the knowledge to advantage when needed, but this was not such an occasion. Truth be told, he felt slightly intimidated and stimulated by her closeness and her smell. He had not felt stimulated for some time.

"Do you have knowledge of sailing, Ran?"

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"Then I will give you a lesson. It will help to pass the time and to keep me awake. When you are on the windward side, the wind is always trying to blow you towards the shore. We position the sail to catch the wind in the forward section but allow it to escape towards the stern. This causes the ship to lean in the direction of the blow. You notice that many of the crew and your friends are on the side of the ship that is raised out of the water because of the wind's efforts. That is one means of balancing the force exerted on the sails. The other way, the most important way, is with the rudder. We steer slightly away from the shore, enough to compensate for the wind, but not enough to lose the force in the sail. It is a dance in which the wind and the ship are partners. The steersman's job is to keep them balanced. I will release my hold so that you can feel what I mean."

Ran felt the strain build in his arms and shoulders as the ship tried to maintain a forward direction against the force of the wind.

"You have to watch the wind in the sail, as well as the shore, and your direction. Watch what happens when we steer too far away from shore." She reached out and moved the wheel a small bit. The ship lost momentum slightly as the sail started to luff.

"See if you can get the wind back."

Ran allowed the bow to swing back towards the shore. The sail rippled, cracked, and filled again, then they were swinging towards the shore. He over corrected and lost the wind. Manda remained silent while he struggled to regain the momentum she had achieved. After a few more attempts he got the feel of it. The ship picked up speed again and held it.

"I can feel it," he stated with pleasure.

"I can tell. You can lean back against the railing. That is what it is there for." She watched the sail and the ship's direction. After some time she continued. "Yes, you seem to have a good feel for it. Now, if you don't mind I am going to lean back against you, and let you steer for a time. I need more rest."

His legs were bent slightly from squatting on the railing. She moved closer and hiked herself up onto his left thigh. He stretched his arms out and leaned back to give her more of a seat like support. As she snuggled in, he felt her shiver. He sensed her fatigue. Slowly removing his left hand from the wheel, while testing to make sure he could steer with just the right, he used his left to wrap his cloak around her and tuck it in tightly. He regained his two-handed grip.

"Can you feel it, Ran? Can you feel the balance?" Manda asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered, and he could. The wind played a flirty game that required constant adjustment, but he realized he could feel the sweet-point through his arms. That point of balance that gained the most in speed. Manda coxed him, a little more here, a little more there, until the port rail was skimming the water while the starboard rail was kissing the sky. Ran felt an exhilaration he realized he had been missing.

Something had been wrong since he had caused the death of his friends. This was the closest to healing he had felt since that day. Perhaps it was the sailing, or perhaps it was the woman resting in his arms.

***

Bray made his way across the deck towards Mearisdeana as she held to the starboard railing. "Are you okay," he asked? "You look sad. Is being on the water still bothering you?"

"I am fine, but you are correct, there is sadness in me. I am much better with water since I swam with Manda. It is not as much of a worry, and now that I am more at ease with it, I can appreciate what is around me. Your world is truly a marvelous place, Bray. I wish Adamtay could see it. I wish he was here with me. I miss him. I miss my family. Will I ever see any of them again?" The last was said with a hitch in her voice.

"You will, I am sure," Bray said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "I know nothing of magic, but Waycan was confident that the Wizard of Waysley could help us. I trust Waycan. You should also."

The feel of arms encircling her gave her a sense of belonging that she had missed sorely. She let her head fall forward onto his chest. If only this was Adamtay holding her.

"I miss him so much, Bray," she confessed. Suddenly an intense sense of wrongness flooded through her. What would Adamtay think if he saw her now, being held by another man. She stepped back and pushed Bray away. She felt uncomfortable. It must have shown on her face.

"I was only trying to make you feel better," he stated.

"I know, Bray. It is just a feeling that I cannot explain." She sunk down with her back against the railing. Bray sat beside her, but not too close.

# Chapter 49

Adamtay held to Nailmoe as the charger they both rode trudged through the gates to his home. Guards immediately sprang to give aid. He lowered Nailmoe into the arms of two men, almost falling from his mount in the process. He could not recall ever being this tired.

They had ridden without a significant stop for days. He could not remember exactly how many. Grain for the chargers and pack animal had given out three or four days ago. They had abandoned the pack animal then, hoping to allow faster travel, but without food and rest the chargers lost strength quickly.

Nailmoe's charger had died under him this morning. Adamtay's charger had carried them both since then, although not quickly.

"Should we call a healer, My Lord?" one of the guards asked. Adamtay recognized the man, but could not recall his name.

"No, he is not injured, only exhausted. Put him in the closest bed and let him sleep. My charger needs more care. Have the stable master attend to him personally. He has had nothing to drink since morning yesterday." Adamtay turned away but then turned back. "Make sure the room you put Nailmoe in is empty of female company," he commanded as he pulled the bag of crystals from the beast's saddle.

"Yes, My Lord," the guard replied with a smile. Everyone was aware of Nailmoe's reputation.

Adamtay was almost at the door to the castle when it burst open. His father rushed out. Moments later his uncle followed. Between them they supported him to the family's quarters where his mother was waiting. He placed the Sword of Sacrifice on the table along with the bag of crystals, drank a large glass of juice, sat on a couch and passed out.

***

"Are we ready?" Adamtay asked as he walked through the doorway to his uncle's workroom.

"Almost, and good morning to you, my impatient nephew."

"Sorry, Uncle. Good morning. Are they ready?"

Three of the crystals were arranged at the corners of a triangular design that had been drawn in red on the floor. Adamtay did not ask what had been used to scribe the lines. He remembered the crystals worked with blood and light.

"They are, but we wait on the sun, something even I cannot influence. Are you rested?"

"Yes, I have been resting for three days now. If I rest anymore, I will burst."

"Patience, my son," his father advised as he entered the workshop. "If this test works, the excursion to return Mearisdeana will commence in a few days. Have you chosen those who will accompany you?"

Adamtay gave his father a hug. "Nailmoe and I have been through the list of volunteers. We have selected two so far. He is selecting the others today."

"You trust him to make such an important decision?" his uncle asked.

"I trust Nailmoe with my life, Uncle."

"I hope it does not come to that." The court wizard loved to have the last word. "I believe you should take your place. The sun is about to crest the sill," he announced, looking at the high window of the workshop.

A drape was covering the window, so Adamtay could not see outside, but he trusted his uncle's knowledge of his own workspace. He stepped into the triangular design on the floor, careful not to smudge a line.

"I have calibrated my spell to the frequency of Mearisdeana's necklace. You should arrive at a spot within a short spear's throw of her position. I will maintain the connection to you through the rift until this time piece has run out." He held up a small timing glass filled with red sand. "As soon as this runs out you will be pulled back. It is time. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Adamtay watched as his uncle pricked his finger tip and placed a small drop of blood on each crystal. He spoke words from a language Adamtay did not understand, then moving quickly to a rope attached to the drape on the window, he pulled it, allowing sunlight to flood Adamtay and the design. For a moment Adamtay felt the hot sunlight on his dayskin before he was enveloped in an intense cold.

A pinpoint of light appeared ahead of him. He fell quickly towards it. The pinpoint grew larger until Adamtay rocketed through the opening and found he was floating—no falling—slowly. The intense cold was gone. A sun shone in a clear blue sky, a sun not nearly as warm as the one he knew. Below him was a large carriage with an expanse of red fabric attached to a tall mast. The fabric appeared to be causing the craft to lean dangerously to one side as it sped across a greenish-blue surface that seemed to undulate around and below it.

As he floated lower, Adamtay saw people crowded on the raised side of the vehicle. One stood out for him. His heart soared as he made out Mearisdeana. She was standing by herself although an individual was making his way towards her. She turned to him as he arrived. After a small time the person, a man Adamtay could now make out, put his arms around Mearisdeana and held her until she suddenly pushed him away. When Adamtay reached the undulating surface he lost sight of Mearisdeana, as she and the man lowered themselves to the surface of the craft.

Adamtay was furious. How dare that man touch her? He tried to move towards them only to realize he was knee deep into the undulating surface, and still sinking. In moments he lost sight of the carriage and everything else as liquid covered his face. It invaded his mouth as he tried to scream. He flailed about trying to climb back to the air then suddenly the intense cold was back. He was on his hands and knees gagging and retching. He collapsed. His last thought was of the wizard holding Mearisdeana in his arms and her having to push him away. His anger burned as hot as KaAn's sun.

# Chapter 50

The Waysley harbour was full of ships when the _Red Witch_ sailed into it. The sail dropped and the oars came out as Manda chose an open berth at the dock. She noticed her father's ship, the _Seahawk_ , sitting at anchor in the harbour coupled to the _Black Bell_ , Black Barb's ship.

Barb had been throwing herself at Manda's father for a couple of years now. As far as Manda knew coupling her ship to his was the only coupling that had occurred although she would not blame Coran for accepting Barb's advances. She was an attractive woman and a fine captain. Manda liked her. Both ships flew flags that indicated their captains were not aboard. Probably at the Striped Unicorn, the inn her father preferred to do his business and his socializing at.

As soon as they had docked, she left Tyhan with instructions to secure the ship and to unload the perishables as quickly as possible. She rushed off to warn her father and the authorities of what she suspected was about to happen.

The Unicorn was crowded, but her father was at his usual table with Barb seated beside him. Coran rose as she came towards him. She gave him a quick embrace.

"There is a pirate armada on the way here," was the first thing she said.

The smiles disappeared from Coran's and Barb's faces. "How do you come by this knowledge?" he demanded.

"By my own eyes." She sat and told him all she had seen. Other captains joined them at the table as she unfurled her story.

"Why would they be coming here?" Barb asked when she had finished her telling. "Raiding empty ships in harbour would be pointless."

"There was a rumour circulating a while ago that Yucan Vee was unhappy with his cave in the Chimney Islands," someone behind Manda announced.

"They were flying Vee's flag," Manda said. "I have to inform the guards."

"I will accompany you," Coran said.

"And I," Barb told them.

"No, Barb, I need you to gather our crews." Coran raised his voice. "We should all ready our ships to sail. We do not want to be blockaded in harbour. I suggest we sail across the channel to the mainland and meet to discuss our next course of action. There is plenty of good anchorage along that coast."

There was a jumble of activity in the Unicorn as the captains discussed their options. Coran turned back to her.

"Let us see the authorities, Manda."

***

_Killing ground,_ Ran thought as they entered the stretch of open space between the last of the warehouses and the city proper. Tyhan had sent them on their way shortly after the ship was secured to the dock. Bray had offered to stay and lend a hand with the off-loading but Tyhan had said no.

"Off-loading is not a task for passengers. The crew will handle it tidily."

They had gathered their few possessions from the cabins and headed to town. Ran had not been impressed with the warehouses close to the dock, but now into the killing ground he was changing his opinion of Waysley. An arrow shot from a long bow on the wall could reach the warehouses. An enemy crossing the open area would be made to suffer by archers located in the stone gatehouse above the gate, if there were enough of them. Left and right the open ground continued around the town's log walls. In the distance he could see a stone watchtower located along each wall. _Whoever was in charge of the town's defensives was good at their job_.

The gates themselves were similar to the Delvingford's, heavy timbered and supported by stone columns. With enough men and food this town could be held against the pirates, but it would be better to be away from here before the attack.

The gate sergeant pointed them towards the Plucked Hen, the inn Tyhan had suggested to them. Unlike Delvingford, there were no buildings immediately inside the gates, another mark of a good guard captain. The open area gave way to businesses and eventually to houses. The Plucked Hen was down a side street but not difficult to find.

***

"What makes you think they are heading here?" the mayor asked.

"Where else would they be headed?" Coran replied.

Her father was getting frustrated, Manda could tell by his tone. She did not blame him. They had answered these questions already, twice. She hoped when the captain of the guards arrived he would understand that action was required, not more discussion. Captain Carr was an experienced soldier who had always impressed her. He was a decisive man of action, well respected by everyone. There was a knock at the door and shortly the captain of the guards was announced. Finally, she thought, but the man who entered was not the person she was expecting. This was a young man, fat and haughty. He carried a handkerchief which he dabbed at runny eyes.

"Let me introduce our new guard captain, Fluter."

"Hello, Uncle." He glanced disdainfully at Coran and Manda. "I hope this is worth interrupting my lunch over."

Manda felt her hopes flounder. "Where is Carr?" she blurted.

"Carr was killed in a robbery some time ago. He managed to kill his assailant, a young thief who was known to the guard, but died of his wounds before anyone found him," Captain Fluter answered as he dabbed at an eye.

"These captains have informed me that they suspect our city will be attacked by pirates. A few pirate ships were seen coming around the point yesterday. Personally, I find it difficult to believe, but I thought your opinion was needed," the mayor announced.

"Why would a few pirate ships attack a town, especially a walled city like ours?"

"It was an armada of ships. I observed close to forty well-manned vessels. They all flew Yucan Vee's flag," she threw in the last part for shock value. The pirate leader with his two deadly Nadian swords was well known and feared by all for his vicious attacks.

"Who is this Yucan Vee?" Captain Fluter queried.

Manda and her father stared at him in disbelief. "How long have you been in the Guard?" Coran blurted.

"That is not important," the mayor put in. "We appreciate your warning, but I... and I am sure Captain Fluter agrees... do not see any reason to cause panic or interrupt city business. I am sure there is another explanation for what you saw."

"But you will do something?" Coran prompted.

"I will inform my officers about your suspicions," Fluter answered.

"And send scouts to lookout points on the leeward coast..." Coran prompted again.

"Of course, I will hand pick the men myself," Fluter assured them.

# Chapter 51

Bray, Ran, and Mearisdeana pushed slowly through the crowds along the market street. They could not bring themselves to hurry. The shops that lined the narrow thoroughfare displayed all manner of interesting objects, trinkets, and delicacies. The odor of warm baked goods and oven-fresh dishes assailed their nostrils. They stopped often amidst the din of activity.

Bray's memory of Nadia was clouded by youth and years. On their voyage so long ago, he and his father had only walked the steps from Upper to Lower Thesia. Memories of other cities did not spring to mind; therefore, he found the sight and sounds of Waysley's market most interesting. Strange smells both assaulted and tantalized him. Mearisdeana obviously felt the same way although her interest tended towards the variety of grown foods displayed in the market stalls. She was also excited by the contents of the shops they were passing if her frequent stops were any indication. Ran was trying to maintain a bored countenance, but his darting eyes and tentative touching of items was broadcasting his excitement to Bray. They seemed to arrive at the Wizard of Waysley's home in no time.

When Bray had inquired of the innkeeper at the Plucked Hen about where they could locate the wizard, the man had not hesitated to give them the street's location and directions. Unfortunately, how to identify the exact house had been less than clear.

"Look for the sign."

"What sign?"

"The wizard's sign."

"What is on his sign?"

"His name."

At this point Bray had waited to see if any more information was forthcoming, but finally had to ask, "What is his name?"

A pained expression had appeared on the man's face. When he spoke, it was slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child. "The Wizard of Waysley is his name." Ran had laughed all the way to the market, but the innkeeper was correct as Bray could see for himself on the sign hanging above the gate.

They passed through the open iron gate, across a courtyard where plants grew, and approached the door. The house was not fancy although it appeared to be large and well-constructed of cut stone.

A servant answered their knock at the plain wooden door. He led them around to large double doors which opened onto a workshop. The room was cluttered. Papers and scrolls lay on every surface, except for the top of a large desk which supported the legs and feet of the Wizard of Waysley as he leaned back in a chair. He studied them, his eyes skimming over Bray and Ran quickly, and then lingered on Mearisdeana's cloak-wrapped form.

"My name is Andoo Toran. I am the Wizard of Waysley. How can I assist two warriors and their mysterious companion?"

"We have a package from T'Waycan," Bray informed him. He pulled the packet from his pouch and passed it to the Wizard's outstretched hand. They waited while he reviewed the drawings, writings, and dagger that Waycan had sent. Bay let his eyes wander the workshop hoping to see something impressive. The shop was large with a high ceiling and exposed joists, a great location for a wizard's familiar to live or at least a cat. Nothing moved there although it was difficult to pierce the gloom gathered around the cross members. Light from the single window seemed to be sucked into the gloom making the room dim overall. To Bray's thinking, the wizard should have conjured a light to help him read Waycan's notes.

Bray was disappointed in the wizard's appearance also. He was at most middle-aged, and beardless. Bray had always pictured a grey-bearded, old man. He wore everyday clothes, just like so many other people they had seen this morning. Bray had expected a cloak covered in magical symbols. Most disturbing was the empty decanter and the half empty wine glass that shared the table top with Waycan's information. The wizard finished reading through the papers and carefully examined the dagger. He opened the jumble of notes made by the other wizard, and started shaking his head immediately. After a little time he dropped his open hand on top of the bundle.

"This will take some time to unravel. Please return in two days. By then I should have a better understanding of what was done. Be warned—although the original spell was simple enough, the perpetrator of this deed misinterpreted and altered so many elements that I fear I will not be able to locate your dimension. I will know better in a few days. In the meantime, you should hope that someone will come for you through the link to your necklace. That would be the simplest solution."

"A link to my necklace?" Mearisdeana asked.

"Why yes, are you unaware of it? I saw it and the other link as soon as you walked in. There is a spell upon the necklace that connects it to somewhere else. It is well done by a person with strong magical ability, much nicer than the Binding spell connecting you to your friend here." He indicated Bray with a finger.

"What is this binding spell?" Bray asked.

"Probably it is the spell intended to bind the demon—for that is what he thought he was capturing—to him as master, so that it could not disappear."

"What use is a spell that caused both people to be sick?" Ran injected gruffly.

"Both of them get ill?"

"So sick they cannot function. Damn stupid spell if you ask me."

The wizard laughed. "I agree. This practitioner was... useless, but because of that, I can dissolve it easily without affecting the link between you and him," he told Ran as he pointed to Bray. "Not that it would be that easy to disturb a connection based on destiny."

"I am connected to him too?" Bray's disbelief was written on his face.

"Yes, I can see that link running off into the future, but I cannot give details without consulting my crystal. Did you two want a reading?"

"No," Bray answered quickly. "I know where my destiny lies. It has been denied me for too many years. I will not be detoured from my path."

Into the silence that followed, the wizard asked, "But you do want the link between you and the... woman dissolved?"

"As long as it does not affect the one in my necklace," said Mearisdeana.

"No fear of that at all."

"Then the answer is yes, most assuredly," Bray told him.

"Come with me." Andoo Toran picked up the dagger and led them to a large open spot on the workshop floor. With a few quick, decisive, movements he drew two pentagrams within the clear space. "Please, one into each and be careful of the lines," he instructed.

Ran moved a few steps back as Bray and Mearisdeana took their places. Toran started an incantation, which brought forth a mist that swirled within both pentagon shapes. It clung to Bray and Mearisdeana until Bray could no longer see her. Slowly the mist was drawn off until all that remained was a thin line of white running at chest height between the two.

As the wizard continued his conjuration, the thin tendril of mist changed colour becoming a deep, blood, red. He picked up the dagger from where he had placed it on a bench. With a quick stroke he cut the connection. Bray felt nothing. A slight movement of the wizard's hand created a weak breeze that scurried across the floor erasing the lines of the pentagon and any lingering mist.

"There, you are disconnected," he announced as he turned back to his desk. "A silver piece should cover it. I will have more regarding your other concern in a couple of days."

Bray retrieved a silver piece from his pouch. "Have you heard that there may be a pirate attack on the city?" he asked handing the coin to the wizard.

"Is there any substance to the rumour?"

"We witnessed a large number of ships flying the flag of someone called Yucan Vee coming around the tip of Pointer Island and headed this way," Ran told him. "I could get my men positioned in a day or two, if I was leading an attack on this town. I suspect the city has at most two days to prepare."

"Yucan Vee. That is unsettling news. Let me consult my seer's sight." He opened a drawer and removed something wrapped in soft black cloth. Once uncovered, Bray identified it as a ball of clear crystal.

"Who is Yucan Vee?" Bray inquired while the wizard was rubbing the cloth over the ball.

"Vee is the leader of a pirate armada. Evil one he is, a real killer. He carries two Nadian swords, and he knows how to use them."

Bray felt a jolt of shock at the mention of the swords. The wizard's head snapped up. He stared at Bray for a moment before returning to his polishing. Casually he inquired, "Will you three try to get out of the city before the attack?"

"It would be prudent. We could—" Ran started to say.

"I will stay," Bray interrupted him, "Ran, you can take Mearisdeana to safety."

"Why would you want to stay?" Ran asked.

"A pirate with two Nadian swords, Ran. My father's swords."

The wizard had been studying his crystal. Now he announced, "It looks like you will all be staying, and organizing the defense of the city."

Ran laughed. "I cannot see the city officials trusting their defense to two unknown warriors and their mysterious companion."

"But I can see it," the wizard stated. "Although you could have a point, a little magical intervention might help move destiny along." He spoke a word that caused pressure on Bray's ears and waved a hand at Ran. "I will see you in a few days, my friends, if not sooner."

The servant showed them out. As they strolled back towards their inn, Bray noticed people staring at Ran. Mearisdeana must have noticed it also. "This light is very good to you, Ran," she commented. "It makes you look... majestic."

# Chapter 52

Ander let his horse plod along the road. His behind was already sore despite the creeping pace he had set. The discomfort inflamed the anger he felt. Why had his stupid cousin sent him on this scouting mission? He was not meant for menial tasks like this. He should be walking patrol in the city where the young shop girls could see and appreciate him. Instead he was sitting on a mangy horse, travelling a dusty road, heading for a vantage point along the north shore where he would probably have to slog through brush and marsh. He slapped at a bug that was biting the back of his neck, and squirmed in the saddle.

Now that his cousin was guard captain he expected better treatment, better assignments, and he expected a promotion. His cousin would probably bump him right up to the rank of lieutenant. Yes, he liked that idea. Skip the lower ranks of corporal and sergeant, step right up to lieutenant. Why not? The actions of his sergeant, his many reprimands and suggesting him for this little outing clearly showed that the man was jealous, jealous of his better looks, the expensive cut of his uniform, and the admiring glances from the women in the city shops. Yes, the rank of lieutenant would be fitting, and if he did something heroic it would happen sooner. He almost wished he would see some pirate ships although the chance of that was slight, but...

He let his mind wonder into a fantasy life where he found the ships, fought his way through scores of the pirates to save that beautiful, blond-haired shop girl who they had somehow kidnapped, and then raced back to the city to warn them, only to find the city already under attack; so he would have to fight his way in, breaking the pirate attack in the process. He was so deep into visions of being rewarded that he almost missed the path to the lookout.

He rode his horse in through the trees, dismounted and climbed the lookout hill while attempting to keep his boots from being scuffed. Finally, standing boldly on the hilltop, he let his gaze flow down to the secluded bay it overlooked. There, bobbing on the water were more ships than the harbour at Waysley could hold, while spread out on the sands of the shore were more campfires than he could count, surrounded by more pirates than his mind could comprehend. Luckily his mind did not have to handle the shock for long before someone clamped an arm across his neck. A stabbing pain tore into his back and up into his chest before he was thrown to the ground. Ander was jerked over onto his back. A horse faced man, dressed in a colourfully mismatched outfit stood above him holding a thin stiletto. The knife was being juggled from one hand to the other. It spun and flipped end-over-end until it was tossed high into the air. Ander lost sight of it in the sun, but found it again as it dropped towards him. The man made no effort to stop its fall. Ander hardly felt it enter his throat.

# Chapter 53

Mearisdeana sipped her ale. The aroma was pleasant and she was reminded of the fresh bread they had seen in the market. It was a great deal nicer than some of the smells that were floating about the common room of the Plucked Hen. However the food brought to them had tasted and smelt delicious. Bray called it venison. It was different from the meat she was used to, but not all that much. The big difference with food here was the abundance of vegetables. She smiled thinking about the single carrot she had painstakingly grown at the university and shared with her parents and Adamtay the first time he visited. Their meal today had included a plate of raw carrots, as well as other vegetables called peppers, celery, and cauliflower. She had eaten most of them, leaving the meat for the boys. They seemed to prefer it. Ran had even asked for more. He was still gnawing on the haunch the waitress had supplied. Bray was considering Ran's suggestion that they leave the city before the attack.

"If we leave and the pirates manage to take the city we will not be able to meet with the wizard again," Bray stated. "I believe we should stay and lend a hand with the city's defense."

"And give you a chance to kill this Yucan Vee person?"

"It would expedite matters. I admit I have been wondering about where to find him. With my father's swords in my possession I can return to Nadia."

"And what of Mearisdeana? Do you plan to abandon her?"

Bray looked over at her. "Would you be willing to come to Nadia with me?"

"Honestly, I had not thought that far ahead. I have been concentrating on reaching the wizard here. I hoped for a different outcome, but Nadia would be as good a place as any to wait for Adamtay to come."

"Then we have a plan," Bray said.

Ran tore another mouthful of meat from his haunch, his white teeth gleaming in the candle light. "I suggest you stay out of the fighting, Mearisdeana. It would be safer."

"My _dayskin_ protects me, and I have some familiarity with a sword." She patted the sword strapped to her hip. "I have the blade I took from the sailor. It is short but I like the weight."

"Your knife is not the best," Ran stated, as he pulled his weapon from its scabbard. "You would do better with this one."

Mearisdeana considered the knife he laid on the table. It was as long as her forearm with a wicked point sharpened on both sides. "Thank you, Ran, but I will stay with the knife Waycan gave me. I am used to it now."

"Suit yourself," Ran stated as he tore into the haunch again.

The white-washed common room was full. The waitress was doing her best to slip between the crowded tables to make her deliveries and at the same time ward off the unwanted advances from customers with wandering hands. She was young and attractive. Many of the men in the room were patting her behind as she moved past. She clearly did not like it.

The table next to them held some of the worst offenders. It contained four, fancily-dressed, young men who had groped her the last time she delivered their drinks. The serving girl had ignored their requests since then. They, in turn, had been making rude comments about her.

"What do you call men like those at the next table?" she asked Bray.

"Ignorant."

"Yes, I agree with that, but they are all dressed in nice clothes, much nicer than most of the other patrons. Is there a name for them?"

"They are probably of the nobility," Ran offered before going back to gnawing on his bone. Mearisdeana could see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

Bray did not appreciate the comment. Mearisdeana saw that on his face. "Grouping all nobility with _their_ kind is like saying all woodsmen are boors because you witness one gnawing on a greasy bone," he responded.

Suddenly, the serving girl stumbled. Mearisdeana had been watching her. One of the boys at the next table had tripped her as she tried to slip by. She went to her knees. A glass of ale spilled onto the man she was attempting to serve. He jumped up brushing at his wet clothes, and called her a clumsy cow. The boys at the next table laughed loudly. The man raised his hand to slap the girl, but Bray—now on his feet—grabbed his wrist.

"Not the girl's fault," Bray stated. "She was tripped by that boor there," he informed the man, pointing at the young fool who had caused the accident.

The fool jumped up. "That is a lie," he roared as he pulled his sword.

The room was suddenly filled with the scraping of chairs as people scrambled to move away from the fight. The commotion was followed by silence. The young dandy had his sword pointed at Bray's chest. There was a smile on his face.

His companions started to push themselves up from their table. The closest one screamed as Ran's knife drove through his spread hand and pinned it there.

"Sit down or die," Ran growled to the three of them. They all sat back down.

The young man with the sword lunged at Bray who seemed to float to the side as he grabbed the boy's arm with his right hand. He hammered his left fist into the side of the dandy's head. A glazed expression replaced the smile. Bray now had the fool's sword arm clamped tightly between his body and his right arm. The boy's hair was held tightly in his left. Holding him thus, he walked the young man backwards to the tavern's open door. Letting go of the fool's hair, Bray hit him twice more, short, left-hand jabs to the face. Mearisdeana watched as the man fell backwards out the door.

As Bray walked back towards their table Ran finished his haunch. He stood and wiped the grease from his hands on the shirt of the now white faced man he had pinned to the table. Holding the man's wrist down, Ran grabbed his knife and started working it out of the wood. The white faced man fainted before the knife came free. Ran had driven it deeply into the table top.

"I suggest you take your friends someplace to have their injuries tended," he told the other two as he used the man's shirt to clean his knife. "But make sure you pay your bill before you leave, and tip the girl for her trouble."

The tavern had returned to normal before the young men had finished dragging their friend away. The innkeeper brought them three glasses of ale.

"On the house, my friends, I appreciate you not breaking up my place. A couple of associates of mine wanted to say hello. This is Bentback and Squeak," he said as two men took places at the table.

One man was large, good looking, and hunchbacked—Bentback she assumed. The other was small and when he spoke his voice was high pitched and squeaky. With his face covered in fine hair, he resembled a mouse.

"That was nicely done, young man," he said to Bray. "Have you ever considered making money using your fighting skills?"

"Bentback, right?" Bray asked. Bentback nodded. Bray opened his pouch and pulled out the letter from The Baker. "Something from an associate of yours."

"I wish I had known about this earlier," Bentback stated when he finished reading. Mearisdeana was having a difficult time following his words. She wished he would speak louder. "It is not wise for Squeak and me to be here when the guards arrive, but I want you to know that we will take care of your possessions. You can claim them when you return."

Ran said something that Mearisdeana did not understand. She knew the words, but the meaning would not clarify itself. In fact everything was unclear, hazy even, she thought as she laid her head on the table.

***

"Why are we behind bars? How did we get here?" Bray asked as he struggled to a seated position on the floor. He held his head with both hands.

"Bentback must have slipped something into our drinks to knock us out," Ran responded. He started pacing again. They were all in one large, damp cell, large for the three of them although Ran could cross it in a few strides. He knew because he had been counting as he paced, and paced, and paced.

"Why would he do that?"

"His reasons are unknown to me. If you meet him first, you can ask him. If I see him first, I will rip his head off."

"It would be a shame to try because I would be forced to kill you," Bentback said as he appeared in the hallway outside their cell. "I drugged you to save lives. Yours possibly, my friend the innkeeper's maybe, a number of guards for sure. I came to tell you I am sorry, but it had to be done. Now, I will do whatever I can to see you freed."

From down the hall someone hissed a warning. "I must go," Bentback told them. "Someone comes. Be with the Mother, my friends," he whispered as he slipped away.

Ran heard a door being unlocked and the squeal of ill-kept hinges, followed by light footsteps almost undetectable under the heavier sounds of marching boots. A guard appeared, accompanied by Manda and an older man.

Mearisdeana rose from her bed on the floor and joined Ran and Bray at the bars. "What has happened," she asked. "Have the pirates arrived?"

"No, Manda answered. "We informed the mayor and the new guard captain, but all they did was send out scouts. Getting them to do that was difficult enough. There have been no sightings by the scouts, although a few have yet to report back. My father and I came to say goodbye. Our ships are at risk if the pirates attack. We are leaving along with most of the other merchants. There are a few who see more profit than risk. They are staying." She leaned in to the bars. "One of my sailors saw the whole incident at the inn. He will stay and testify at your hearing if allowed. I hope you get off. Take care of yourself." The last she directed to Ran as she reached through the bars and grasped his forearm. "I hope to see you again."

"Thank you," Mearisdeana called as the guard led the two away.

***

Bentback slipped out the secret entrance to the dungeon. "Squeak, get the boys together and meet me in the back room at the Hen, quickly." As Squeak scurried away, Bentback considered what he had heard. He had listening from the dark recesses of a dungeon passageway, more from habit than necessity, but he was glad he had. Some things had fallen into place that he had been worrying at since the death of the old guard captain.

Shortly, he was seated in the Plucked Hen with a passable glass of wine in hand, waiting. His wait was not long, which was good. He estimated he only had two turns of the glass before the magistrate heard the case against his young friends. He needed to be there for the hearing.

"Something has been bothering me about the incident with Venny the Mover and the old guard captain. Venny was a smuggler—"

"And a good one," someone added.

"Then why would he try to mug the captain?"

"I saw the bodies in the street, boss." It sure looked like Venny and the captain killed each other."

"Or it was staged to look like that."

"Why would someone do that?"

"A question I have been asking myself. It made no sense until I overheard something today. The city has been warned that pirates are about to attack."

Commotion exploded in the room. Bentback let it continue for a few moments before he spoke again. Although he spoke quietly, everyone settled down immediately to listen. "In light of this new information, we have to look at this differently. What would the pirates gain from killing these two?"

"Killing the captain is obvious," Squeak answered. "He was good at his job. Much better than the fat fool who took over. Having him out of the way makes the success of an attack much more likely, but why the kid?"

"Because Venny was a smuggler, he knew all three of the smuggler's holes through the walls."

"A sneak attack."

"More likely they will slip in a few men to open the gates from the inside. Squeak, I want men watching all three holes. Kill anyone who comes through. The rest of you, we need to board up our store rooms and get ready for a fight." The room emptied quickly. Bentback took his wine glass into the inn's common room. Karack, the innkeeper, was serving from behind the bar. "I need you to accompany me to the court house," Bentback told him. "The truth about the incident last night must be told."

Karack looked as if he was going to complain, but he must have thought better of it, remembering that Bentback's friendship was worth some inconvenience. Removing his apron, he told his son to take over and followed Bentback out to the street.

***

Four young men were standing in a group outside the doorway to the new court room when Bentback and Karack arrived. One was telling a story that involved much gesturing with a bandaged hand.

"That is the dandy who started it," Karack told Bentback pointing towards a youth with a bruised and swollen face.

The two men walked over to the boys and pushed into their group. They were both large men. The bruise-faced youth started to complain, but stopped as Bentback crowded him.

"Do you recognize my friend?" The youth nodded. "Good. I want you to know that he will be telling the court exactly what happened at his inn last night. You would be advised to do the same. In fact, you could say that your continued health depends on it. Do you understand?" The youth nodded again. "Say it," Bentback voice was low and commanding.

"I understand," the boy looked pale despite his bruises, "but I might not get a chance to say anything. My mother is furious, and she has already talked to my uncle."

"That would be bad for you... very bad... very painful," Bentback informed him as the doors were pushed open.

Inside the courtroom the three defendants were already standing in a caged off area to the left of the magistrate's desk where the revered man was working with his head down. He looked up when the commotion stopped.

"These people are charged with causing bodily harm to gentlemen of stature in this city. Does anyone have anything to say for or against them?"

Karack stood. "I do, Magistrate. I am Karack, the owner of the Plucked Hen where the incident occurred."

"Are you here to press charges for damage?"

"No sir. There was no damage. I am here to say what occurred. These men were acting to stop an injustice. Your nephew... or rather, this young man purposely tripped my serving girl causing her to—"

"Enough." snapped the magistrate. "These men caused bodily harm to a fine young man... two fine young men. They must pay for their crime."

"But Uncle," the youth broke in. "He tells the truth. It was my fault that the girl tripped. I was at fault. I pulled my sword. This man was only protecting the girl and himself."

The magistrate looked long at his nephew before speaking. "Fair enough, taking these statements into account I will be lenient. They are sentenced to only four months of labour in the mines. Take them away."

"But, Uncle..."

"No. I said take them away."

# Chapter 54

Bray counted the number of guards who would accompany them to the mines; fourteen in all, a squad of twelve, the guard captain (off to inspect the mines), and one other to drive the cart. Although all the guards appeared young and inexperienced, it looked like escape would have to wait, at least until camp the first night. All the guards wore sparkling new uniforms of gold and blue. Bray did not believe he and Ran would have any problems overpowering a few and managing to escape.

After the trial they had been led back to the cell. They made their escape plan when the guards left them alone. The plan was simple; escape when possible. This morning they had been delivered to the city's inland gate where a squad of soldiers waited with a cart. It was full of supplies. Bray, Mearisdeana, and Ran were tied to the rear of the vehicle. The twelve guards formed a double line in front while the captain took his position on the cart seat beside the driver. The city gates lumbered open.

"Forward," the captain commanded.

Bray was a few cart lengths from the gate when the driver pitched backwards with an arrow protruding from his chest. The captain continued sitting on the seat until two arrows—one entering straight into his open mouth—pitched him backwards onto the supplies. Two soldiers staggered past the cart in an attempt to reach the safety of the gates which remained open. One almost made it before he was taken down. The other died beside Ran. The slack in the rope allowed Ran to drag the body closer and grab the guard's knife. He slashed the ropes which held them to the cart, and in moments they were armed with swords from the bodies they could reach. Bray stuck his head out around the cart and was rewarded with another barrage of arrows. Many came too close.

"Good archers," Ran commented.

"The gates are starting to close," Mearisdeana observed. "We do not have time to admire their abilities. My _dayskin_ will protect me, but what about you two?"

"The dead make good shields," Bray said as he reached up and pulled the driver's body from the cart. Carrying dead bodies on their backs, Bray and Ran sprinted back to the gate. Mearisdeana carried the weapons and ran in front of them. Bray felt the arrows striking the body he carried. As soon as they were inside they dropped the arrow-riddled burdens and lent their strength to closing the ponderous gates. They were all panting heavily when the gates were shut and the bar in place. It was then that the gate sergeant remembered they were prisoners. He stated to draw his sword.

"Forget it, man," Ran advised, a sword back in his hand. "Have you warned the other gate?"

The sergeant was an experienced soldier. He realized immediately what Ran meant. "Pog," he barked. "Run to the harbour gate. Tell them we are under attack."

Bray climbed the stone steps to the gatehouse atop the gate. He was crouched behind a merlon wondering why the attack had stopped. Nothing moved on the killing ground between the city and the woods. Shadowy movements flitted within the trees, but that was all. Ran arrived and crouched behind another merlon. The guard sergeant was moments behind him.

"I think we ruined their attack by getting the gates closed quickly. Thanks to both of you for your help."

"They are not pressing the attack," Bray voiced his observation.

The sergeant moved around until he could look out a space between the merlons. "Readying themselves, perhaps."

"Or maybe they want us locked in here," Ran stated. "How much food do you hold in the city at one time?"

"With strict rationing we could survive for a month. Half as long again if we can get the supplies back from that cart you were tied to. Too bad we had no idea an attack was coming."

Bray was not going to mention that the mayor and the guard captain had known about the possibility of an attack. The captain was dead, his body lying out there on the cart, his blood seeping into the grain sacks, and the mayor needed to maintain his authority to handle this situation no matter how much of a fool he was. Hopefully there were some good officers in the city guards who could handle the city's defenses. He asked the sergeant about it.

"Most of the good ones are gone, sent to guard prisoners at the mine, so the mayor could promote his nephew. The old captain was good, but he was killed—"

He was interrupted by the return of the runner he had sent to the harbour gate. "Gates closed, Sarg. They had it closed by the time I got there. The harbour is full of pirates. They are attacking any ships still there."

Bray looked out across the top of the city. "And burning them." He pointed to the smoke billowing up from the direction of the harbour.

There was commotion and yelling as a squad of guards came into view running towards the gate. "Finally, reinforcements," the sergeant said with relief. Bray understood his feeling. Defending the gate with only six guards would have been impossible.

"About time," Ran stated as he turned back from watching the killing ground. "When you get them positioned, we will be off. We have to find our weapons."

The guards were led by a young lieutenant whose voice had not yet reached maturity, evidenced when it cracked as he called up to the sergeant. "Reinforcements for you, sergeant. Are the prisoners alive?"

"They are here, sir." He indicated Bray and Ran beside him. "The third one..." he looked around and saw Mearisdeana walk into view below, "is there." He pointed towards her.

"I am to escort them to the mayor's office."

The sergeant made his way crablike to the top of the stairs and started down. Ran turned to look out across the killing ground again. With his back to everyone, he whispered to Bray. "Play along. We will kill him once we are away from the gate."

Bray nodded his understanding. They waited as six guards made their way up the stairs and positioned themselves around the gatehouse before he and Ran slipped down.

The young lieutenant swallowed nervously as they came up to him. "The mayor asks if you will kindly meet with him at his office. Your possessions and weapons await you there. He has a proposition for you." He blushed when his voice broke as he said proposition, but he continued bravely.

***

Ran had been feeling hungry when they left the Woodland Gate. Now he was not. People had been giving them food and drink as the three of them followed the young lieutenant through the city. Well, not exactly giving food to all of them, rather, they gave it to him. He passed some to the others when he realized his companions were not receiving any.

"Why are they giving food just to me?"

"Because you stand out for them, I think they are unaware of us."

"That is ridiculous. We are walking side by side."

"She is right," Bray told him. "I have watched their eyes. They are drawn to you and only you."

Ran wanted to ask more, but he detected a sound ahead. As they entered the central square, he realized it was a chant. A large crowd of people had gathered in front of an impressive, newly built, manor house. They were calling 'hero' over and over.

"Make way," the lieutenant called and then louder "Make way." The crowd parted enough for them to walk a narrow opening. The chant was replaced by cheers. People were reaching out and touching Ran as he walked the pathway. The 'hero' chant started up again as they entered the building. An older man ushered them directly into a large room where a small plump man sat behind a large desk. The room's rich trappings were made inconsequential by the odour of fear emanating from the man. Andoo Toran, the Wizard of Waysley, reclined in a large over-padded chair, a glass of wine in one hand. Bentback stood in shadow beside a large window. The mayor jumped to his feet as they entered.

"Thank the Mother you are alive," the little man cried. "You have to save me... us... the city. We are under attack." He stopped talking and looked around. "Is my nephew with you?" he asked.

"Your nephew is dead," Ran told him bluntly before turning to the wizard. "What is happening outside, and what is this proposition?"

"The mayor and the people want you to take over the city's defenses."

Ran was sure his reluctance showed on his face. A few months ago he would have jumped at the chance, thinking it a natural match for his abilities, but that was before. Stalling for time, he walked to where his weapons rested on a table. Bray and Mearisdeana had already collected theirs. He strapped his on.

"I will fight, but I do not wish command. Pick someone from among the guards. Men always fight better for someone they know."

"There is no one else," Andoo Toran informed him. "The mayor and the magistrate got rid of many experienced men to make way for their own family members."

"Well, scour the city, find them, and get them back."

"They are no longer in the city," the wizard explained. "They and half the garrison were sent to the mines to manage the prisoners. It seems there have been many more prisoners recently. Our mayor and magistrate were getting rich, it seems."

"I get the picture," Ran admitted.

"It sounds like a challenge made for you, Ran," Bray told him.

Ran considered the situation. Andoo needed time to find a solution to Mearisdeana's problem. And then there was Manda. How could he ever face her again, or himself for that matter if he turned his back on this? His reluctance faded. Ran, the ultimate Tawshe warrior straightened his back.

"Is there a map of the city?"

"Yes," answered the mayor, pointing it out.

"Then let us make a start. Bray, round up any Travellers who are in town. Lieutenant, I need the numbers of guards and anyone else who can fight. I also want to meet with everyone who has experience. Rank is irrelevant. Mearisdeana, organize places and supplies for the wounded. Oh, and food. The mayor will help you." The mayor retreated from his desk as Ran walked up to it. With a sweep of his arm he swept everything from its surface before setting down the map. The room was soon almost empty as people took up their tasks.

"Bentback, if you have something to offer, speak up. Otherwise leave."

The Master of Thieves moved up beside the desk. He explained his suspicions about the death of the guard captain and his supposed killer. "I have had men watching the smuggler's holes since yesterday, and I have my boys keeping a lookout for strangers. We may have been late getting the watchers in place."

"Good man," Ran said.

"Not something I usually hear," Bentback replied smiling.

"Now, show me everything I must know to defend this city." Bentback, Ran, and Andoo crowded around the desk to study the map.

# Chapter 55

Bray heard the door open. "He said to get you. Something is happening." The voice was that of the young lieutenant. Bray could not recall his name if he had ever heard it. They had worked late into the night attempting to understand the city, and the situation that had been forced upon them. Bray pushed himself up off his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor. He heard Mearisdeana stirring in the bed as she mumbled words in a language he assumed was her own. They both splashed water on their faces at a washbasin in the corner, strapped on weapons, and left.

Ran was waiting for them by the main doorway. Bray expected him to look tired, but instead he looked... heroic. _Leave it to Ran to come out of this with some advantage._

"Someone wants to talk at the Woodland Gate," he informed them "Care for a stroll?"

The walk to the gate did not take long. The streets were deserted and all the shops and houses were locked and shuttered.

"Two of them came out of the woods," the gate sergeant told them. "They are behind a large wooden shield of some type which the big one... a real brute... carried forward. They asked for the man in charge."

"Any bows to be seen?" Ran asked.

"No. The smaller one carries two swords. That is all."

From the top of the stairs Bray confirmed his suspicion. It had been ten years, but he recognized the countenance of the man who had shot his father in the back. That face was burned into his memory. He seemed to remember the brute also, by logic rather than features. The Mother had offered him a route to revenge. All they had to do was kill about three hundred pirates with fifty or so of their own fighters. Reasonable odds if they were all Tawshe. Unfortunately they were not.

Bray had found six Travellers when he scoured the town. They had come willingly as was the Tawshe way. Mearisdeana had managed to procure supplies and a location for the treatment of the wounded. The rest of the situation was dismal. Their fighters numbered close to fifty, but less than half had experience. The mayor had said nothing when Ran learned those figures, preferring to stay out of the warrior's sight. The man was not a fool when his own life was in jeopardy, and it was. Bray could tell that Ran would willingly have slit his throat, but they needed every person they could find, for now. In addition to the two gates, they had to man four towers located along the expanse of timber walls that surrounded the town. Like the gate structures, the towers were made of stone. They could accommodate ten archers each. Ran had set one Tawshe and a bowman from the guards in each, with plenty of preloaded cross bows—there was an abundance of unclaimed weapons in the guard's arsenal. The two remaining Tawshe formed the reserve for the towers. Their remaining fighters were assigned to the gates—fifteen active, five in reserve. It was an abysmal defense, but it was all they had.

"State your business," Ran bellowed at the two men.

"I'm here to offer you terms," the smaller man called back. "Surrender the city. The people will not be hurt, but the guards must leave. I guarantee their safe passage."

"And who are you to guarantee passage?" Bray broke in.

"I be Yucan Vee, leader of this army. My men do what I tell em, or feel the bite of my Nadian swords."

Ran looked to Bray. "Satisfied?" he asked.

Bray smiled. "He is mine."

"Should we invite him in?"

"I do not believe an invitation is required. He seems determined to find his own death."

"Your terms are not accepted." Ran called back. "Leave with your men, or die."

"Foolish," they heard Vee comment before the two pirates started back towards the woods.

"Harbour gate or this one?" Ran asked him.

"I will stay here."

"Then I will command from the harbour gate. Where do you want to be, Scales?"

"I will stay here with Bray."

Ran put his arm around their shoulders—more a display of comradery, than emotion. "May the Mother be with us. Fight well."

***

Vee walked in front of Cracker as they made their way back to the woods. Cracker still carried the large shield he had constructed, not that Vee expected the city defenders to fire on them after the negotiations. They were two honourable for that. He would do it, but he was special. The safety of the woods closed around them.

"Make your ways through the woods to the harbour, Cracker. You'll motivate our brothers from there. I'll lead from here. Tomorrow morning, keep watch for food being delivered to the walls. Attack when ye sees it happenin. I will attack at the same time. Needles'll wait until the defenders be fully engaged afore rushing the gates from the inside. Let the guards spend another sleepless night on them walls.

"What if they be changen their minds and accept the offer?" Cracker asked.

"I wish they would. Sure make killing them easier. If that happens, we will disarm the fighters as part of the surrender and then kill them. But that warrior sounded firm in his decision. I don't believe we'll see them surrender."

"We could starve em out. Wait until their food be all eatin," Cracker offered.

"No, we must take the town before they get them reinforcements from the mines. We attack tomorrow morning."

# Chapter 56

"Are you ready?" Neventay asked.

"We are, Uncle."

"Then I will prepare the spell. Be at my lab tomorrow morning before sunrise. I have cleared enough room to accommodate all six of you."

"Thank you, Uncle. I appreciate how much inconvenience you have suffered to accomplish this." Although he said nothing, the Court Wizard seemed to agree that he was being inconvenienced. He left muttering to himself although that was normal behavior in Adamtay's memory.

When he and his father were alone, he added, "Probably the first time that lab has been cleaned in years."

"More like decades," his father admitted. "How did the training go?"

"We have worked out a number of different tactics depending on what we encounter. The men have learned to stay clear of the Sword of Sacrifice. That lesson was learned quickly once a few of them were slashed, but it is difficult to overcome years of experience. I had never thought about how much we depend on the protection of our _dayskin,_ especially while fighting in a group."

"How did you manage it?"

"We start in the usual double line formation. I am in the centre of the front line. We found it worked better if I was slightly forward of the other two, less chance of cutting them with my strokes. The second line is a reverse of the first. Nailmoe is at my back, as he usually is, but he is a few steps behind his side men. If we have to fight our way out with Mearisdeana, she will be in the centre of the formation."

"Do you think that will be necessary?"

"It is an unknown, Father. I plan to kill the wizard she is travelling with. That may cause some problems with the locals."

"Well, remember what your uncle said. Kill him before he can say anything, or build a protective spell. Do not look into his eyes and, whatever you do, stay away from his touch."

"I remember, Father."

# Chapter 57

Ran patrolled along the walls of the gatehouse many times during the night, speaking with the men in a comforting tone, relating wisdom and tales to keep their spirits up. It also allowed him to evaluate the men he would be fighting alongside. They were an unknown. He had talked to a few when he was planning the city's defenses, but not enough to form an opinion of their backbone. Now he evaluated and paired the strong with the questionable.

The young lieutenant with the cracking voice followed him like a shadow until Ran forced him to get some sleep. When he was sure the pirates would not attack this night, he settled himself beneath the crenellation, wrapped his cloak around his body, and slept for a few hours. The smell of food being cooked awoke him. The light of a new day was creeping into the sky. The young lieutenant was already awake and seated beside him.

"Did you sleep?" Ran asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, a soldier must find sleep when he can."

"Will they attack today, sir?"

"I think we can count on it. Have you fought in a battle before?"

"No."

"Scared?"

"Yes."

"It is normal." He stopped and considered the glow starting on the horizon. "There are times I wish I had been scared instead of over-confident," he admitted quietly before giving his head a shake. "Not a time to get sentimental. What is your name, lad?"

"Ivo, sir."

"Well, Ivo, let us do another tour before the food gets here."

"Yes, sir. Where would you like me positioned when the fighting begins?"

"How about at my side. Would that suit you?"

"Yes, sir."

They made their way around the gatehouse and then down the steps to the gate itself. They were starting back up to the wall when Bentback arrived. He was bloody.

"We stopped men at the two sneak holes closest to here. This gate should be safe, but I have not heard from my men at the third location. I am on my way there now."

"Grab some food first," Ran suggested indicating a cart which had just arrived. They stood by the cart and ate while food was carried up the stairs to the men in the gatehouse. Bentback gobbled some bread and cheese before he left. Ran and Ivo returned to the gatehouse just as a guard sang out, "Here they come."

Men were rushing across the killing ground between the last of the dock-related structures and the city walls. They carried ladders. Crude things with rungs tied with rope to saplings. Crude yes, but they would do the job. An arrow soared in from the right and struck a man carrying the front of a ladder. He went down, spilling his carrying partners as well. The shot was too long for a crossbow. It had to have come from one of the Tawshe he had placed on the towers to left and right of this gate. Two more pirates were taken down by the same tower occupant before Ran saw a flight of arrows directed towards the tower from between two warehouses. The pirates had longbows also.

Ran took up a crossbow and fired as soon as the attackers were within range. He fired his remaining four crossbows and managed the reload of one before the ladders came slamming into the wall. He toppled every ladder on his area of the wall before the attackers could reach the top. Others were not as quick. Ran pulled his sword as pirates clambered over the crenellation. They lost three guards before they managed to clear the attackers from the ramparts.

The pirates fell back to regroup. Ran was surprised to see how much the sun had risen. The sands flow quickly when your life is at risk.

"Destroyer," Ivo swore from beside him. "As if they do not outnumber us enough, more ships are entering the harbour, and look at the size of that man."

He pointed to a pirate who was leading a new attack. Not the biggest combatant Ran had ever faced, but definitely the ugliest.

***

Needles crept forward until he could see the Woodland Gate. Two guards were firing crossbows through arrow slits located on both sides of the gate. A third figure in a cloak was loading for them. Needles and his men were six in number. He had lost the others to an attack as they came through the wall. Fortunately, whoever the attackers were, they were poor fighters. The pirates had killed them all while only losing four of their own. Attacking the gate should be much easier. Needles loved surprises when he was causing them.

"Walk quietly. Don't run unless they be aware of us. You and you, take the guards. I'll handle the one doin the loading. The rest be gettin the gates open," he whispered.

The person loading the crossbows was moving back and forth between the two guards. Needles slowed, timing their approach until the loader was with the farthest guard. The closer guard was already dead when Needles clamped his hand over the loader's mouth, stifling any cries, as he stabbed into the back with his knife. He had made this killing move for years. He was a master at it. He saw the other guard about to be taken down in the same way he was taking down his victim, but something went wrong.

Before his man could reach the guard, the person Needles was holding raised the newly-loaded crossbow, and shot the pirate in the back. Needles pulled back on his knife and jammed it in again, only to feel it slip sideways in his hand again. The face and body of his victim turned towards him. They struggled in silence as the guard screamed for help. The cowl of the cloak fell away and Needles stared in disbelief. The face was covered in scales. He felt a blade enter below his ribcage. It tore up into his chest. _So that is what it feels like,_ was his last thought.

***

Adamtay felt the intense cold stop, and then he was sinking... floating downwards. Below him lay a picture his mind refused to understand until he recognized a walled city, a city under attack. A mass of figures were surging towards two large gates. He searched for Mearisdeana without success. Was she one of the mass trying to enter the city, or was she inside with the defenders? He had no way of knowing.

As he floated lower, the characteristics of the figures started to reveal themselves, but he had no hope of finding Mearisdeana within the mass. He realized there were people on the walls firing down into those below; however he could not see his beloved there either. His eye was drawn to one among the few defenders he could see. He remembered seeing the same man take Mearisdeana in his arms on the strange carriage vehicle. It was the wizard, the one he would kill.

As he came to rest, his heart was pounding. He feared the ground would swallow him up as it had before. Relief surged through him when his footing proved to be solid. He pulled his sword.

"Any idea where she is?" he heard Nailmoe ask from behind.

"I believe she is inside the city with the defenders."

"Then we should hurry. They are about to be overrun."

With swords drawn they started forward. "We have company," one of his men announced. A group of fighters had sprinted out of the vegetation off to their right. They were closing quickly. Screaming unintelligently, they charged into Adamtay's group and died as their swords bounced off the _dayskin_ protected bodies. Adamtay and his men were unscathed except for a cut on one arm from the Sword of Sacrifice. They bandaged it quickly then made their way towards the city.

***

Swords sang of combat all around. The intensity of the sound lessened as men died. Bray blocked a slash with his sword. Before the pirate could recover, he died with one of Bray's knives in his throat. Stepping over the body, he moved forward towards the last two pirates on this section of the wall. They attacked like a couple of wolves, working together, intent on his destruction. They were a practiced pair. The one on his left slashed, while the other thrust. Bray's knife blocked the slash. The sword in his other hand nudged the thrust slightly as he danced sideways and forward. Now he was between his opponents. The pommel of his sword smashed into the thruster's face. His knife flashed forwards into the slasher's chest and then across Bray's body into the thruster's neck. He heard sounds of fighting coming from further along the guardhouse, but his immediate opponents were gone.

As he started forward, Bray caught something from the corner of his eye that stopped him. Across the killing ground, close to the woods, something was falling from the sky. Six figures in strange outfits came lightly to earth, moved quickly into a fighting formation, and started forward towards the city. Pirates rushed out of the woods and closed with the six who all carried single swords. As a fighter, Bray naturally evaluated other fighting styles when he saw them. These figures used long slashing strokes that spoke of great strength with little need for control, but what amazed Bray and caused him to stop was how they blocked the pirate's blades. They used their arms. At first he assumed they wore metal grieves, but then he saw strokes being blocked with shoulders also. _Probably why they developed such sloppy strokes_ , he reasoned, _blades do not harm them_ , but then he had to revaluate as a stroke from one of the figures slashed through an opponent and continued on to injure one of their own. He saw the fighter flinch when the blade crossed his skin. That group of pirates were all down. The six figures started towards the city again after they had quickly bandaged their injured comrade. Bray thought, _Mearisdeana will be happy; her lover has arrived,_ then he heard a cry for help from the gates below.

Bray almost flew down the stairs taking three and four at a time. Mearisdeana and a guard were engaged with two pirates while two more were raising the bar on the gates. Bray rushed the two at the gate, but he was too late. The bar crashed to the ground. The gates started to swing inwards. Bray killed the closest pirate with a stroke that removed his head. He slashed his sword into the narrow opening between the gates, hearing someone scream from the other side as he felt it bite into flesh. But the gates continued to open. He slammed his shoulder into one gate. The other pirate, who had helped remove the bar, starting towards him and died from an arrow. Suddenly, Bentback was beside Bray adding his shoulder, as more men joined them.

"Sorry we're late," Bentback stated. "Can we get it closed?"

Bray did not bother to answer. There were two few defenders. The gates continued to swing open.

# Chapter 58

Ivo was right; more ships were entering the harbour. The first four came in with their sails bloated by wind and headed straight towards shore. The red sail of the ship in the lead made Ran smile.

"Reinforcements yes, but for us, not them," he stated.

Three ships spun off towards the anchored pirate vessels. The sound of sails crashing down reached Ran's ears. Many of the charging pirates paused as they heard the familiar sound. Their charge faltered and stopped, then the crash of sails was replaced by the smashing of wood as some of the new ships plowed their bows into the sides of the anchored crafts. Ran could see burning arrows being fired into the broken ships.

The _Red Witch_ having dropped her sails at the last possible moment, rammed its way onto the sand of the harbour beach. Three other ships followed Manda's lead, more ships looked intent on doing the same. Sailors slid down ropes into the water and waded ashore. The pirates turned and started back towards the beach.

"Get all the men to the gates," Ran told Ivo as he started down the stairs. "Do it quickly." By the time the men were off the walls and gathered, Ran had the gates ready to open.

"As soon as we are through the gate, lock it back up," he told Ivo and a second young guard he had chosen. "The merchants are attacking the pirates, but they need the help of some real fighters, so that is what we are going to do," he called to the defenders around him. "We will crush them between two forces. Bowmen at the rear, make every arrow count. Here we go."

The gates had opened enough for the men to squeeze through. In moments they were outside. Their numbers were not great; trotting forward, they closed on the retreating pirates.

The forward edge of the pirates had just engaged the sailors when Ran and his men slashed into the group from behind. Ran fought from habit, killing with every stroke. Quick glances allowed him to gauge the flow of the battle and watch the big, ugly man who had been leading the attack towards the city. The behemoth was pushing his way through his own men, trying to reach the fighting on the shore. He was swatting pirates out of his way if they did not move fast enough. Ran could sense that only the big man and a few other pockets of pirates were still dedicated to the fight. Many on the edges of the battle were deserting, but the behemoth had to be stopped.

Ran was fighting silently as was his nature with quick, decisive strokes that killed instantly. Now he started to scream a war cry he had heard the Bearclaws use. It had turned his blood cold the first time he heard it, and it did the same thing now to those around him. Simultaneously, he changed his fighting style. Instead of clean killing strokes, he drove his blades into eyes and groins causing shrieking and high-pitched screams from the injured and dying. It worked. The big man turned. Torn between the fighting ahead and the screams behind, he chose the latter and headed towards Ran.

They met in the centre of the mass of fighting and dying men, both evaluating as they circling each other.

"You are the ugliest bastard I have ever laid eyes on," Ran told him. "Are you related to Sarah the Sloth?"

The big man's reaction was instantaneous. Sword strokes crashed onto Ran's blade so fast he could hardly keep his guard up. He managed to dance out of the way, but the man came at him again with the same fury. Ran retreated, concentrating on blocking the flurry of strokes with each backwards step he took. Four steps back, five and six, seven, eight and stop. _Fast_ , _but not as fast as Bray_. Sensing what was happening in their midst, the guards and pirates around them stopped fighting. The battle was to be decided by these two combatants. They sensed it too.

"For the win, big man?" Ran asked.

"For the win," the giant answered.

"And by what name should we announce you to the Mother?"

"My name is Cracker, and the Destroyer knows it well."

Ran smiled, "As he does mine."

Cracker smiled confidently. His attack was sudden, but this time Ran held his ground, and then stepped forward. Cracker was fast. Cracker was a brute, but he was also outmatched. Cuts started to appear on his body. The intensity of Ran's attack increased. Cracker lost the smile on his face, and gained a new one across his throat.

A few of the pirates ran, a few fought, but most dropped their swords and surrendered. Leaving them under guard by the sailors, Ran started back to the gates. Manda caught up with him as he entered the city.

"How are Bray and Mearisdeana?" she asked.

"That is what I want to find out."

***

Despite their effort, the defenders could not keep the Woodland Gates from opening. The press of pirates from the outside was overwhelming. Bray made his decision.

"We let them come," he announced. "Swords ready?"

Men, their faces grim, nodded understanding. Mearisdeana stepped up to his shoulder.

"I saw six figures float to earth outside the walls. I believe your prince has arrived."

"Then I should look my best," she answered, as she smoothly shed her cloak.

"Ready?" Bray shouted. "Now!"

The defenders sprang back. The gates surged open. Pirates fell forward. Swords clashed. Chaos reigned.

Bray stood firm, knife and sword in hand, killing all who came against him. Thought was not necessary, as training took over. His attention flitted around him. He knew Mearisdeana fought on his right, Bentback on his left, and beyond, Bentback, the gate sergeant killed with the efficiency of experience.

My first real battle. The thought came unbidden to Bray's mind. My first and last perhaps.

The defenders were unable to hold back the tide of pirates surging through the gate opening. They gave ground slowly. A number of pirates pushed through the gates and moved to the right. Bray saw the flanking move, but he was unable to respond to the threat. To move anywhere other than backwards or forwards would open a hole in the line of defenders. A breach would see them all dead. Suddenly the flankers were attacked as more defenders joined the fight. Bray recognized the four Tawshe plus Ran and Manda as they charged into the group. The flankers went down. Ran's group continued forward into the chaos. Suddenly the press of men against Bray became less. Pirates were turning away from the defenders. They were swinging around as six large warriors charged into those at the rear. The defender's line pushed forward.

Bray killed three more men who came within reach then, suddenly, his father's killer was before him. A sword slashed at his head. Bray blocked with his sword, but it broke, sheared through by one of the pirate's Nadian blades. Bray's arm swung wide from the lack of resistance to his stroke. He saw the pirate's second sword thrusting towards his unprotected chest. Off balance, he spun away as best he could, but he knew it was not enough. Mearisdeana smashed into his side driving him away from the thrust. The Nadian sword sliced into her blouse and bounced off her side. She thrust at the man, but he swerved away. Bray pulled his second knife and stepped forward to face Vee.

"You plan to fight me with knives, boy? These are Nadian swords. I killed a Nadian prince for these."

"I know. You shot him in the back."

Vee looked startled, but then recognition dawned on his face. "The Prince's brat, so you did live! I always wondered if you be dead. But no matter, I'll kill you now, and finally earn the bounty we were paid." He must have seen the question on Bray's face. "Oh, you weren't aware? We were paid to kill you and your father, a large amount of gold... from another Nadian prince."

He attacked. Bray defended, although not for long. Bray acknowledged that Vee was good, but he was better. He had trained with these knives for two full years. He was a master, and he had trained for this day. The look of confidence slipped from Vee's face, replaced by concern, and finally by fear. Bray danced, smooth flowing steps that moved him gracefully out of a sword's path, but kept him close enough to slice at the pirate leader. Soon Vee's arms, shoulders, and chest were covered in cuts. His wounds seeped blood and, before long, his clothes were drenched in it. Still the dance continued.

Bray did not see those around him. He was not aware that some had turned away, no longer able to watch. This was not a fight now. It was cruel, deliberate, revenge. Vee staggered and fell to his knees, once, twice, three times. Bray waited for him to struggle back to his feet. Vee's next stroke was feeble and slow. Instead of dancing away, Bray blocked it with one knife and drove the other up into the pirate's armpit. It was a killing stroke. The blood gushed out, soaking Vee's side. He fell to his knees. His weapons fell from his hands. Bray stepped forward and picked up one of his father's swords. From his crouched position he looked into Vee's eyes.

"I am going to mount your head on a post by the water until the birds strip it clean," he told him.

"A true Nadian prince," Vee answered.

The sword swept down, the head toppled. Bray felt empty.

He took stock. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, the clash of swords was all around. The battle was still raging, but he felt hollowed out, carved out, depleted. He stood and watched the battle while he tried to make sense of his emotions. A thought crept into his head; _I have my father's swords. I can go home._ A screaming pirate charged him. He still held one of the Nadian swords. Slipping easily to the side he disembowelled the pirate, sheathed his knives, and took up the other sword. _I can return home if I live through this day_. He charged into the battle.

Eventually the killing stopped. Bray felt a hand fall onto his shoulder as he wrapped a cloth around Bentback's thigh. Blood had soaked the thief's pant leg and drained into one boot.

"It looks like some of Mearisdeana's people have arrived," said Ran. He nodded towards the gate. Bray glanced over. Mearisdeana was wrapped up in the embrace of one of the figures Bray had seen float to ground. "We need to get them inside if they are staying and close these gates. Will you see to that?"

"Sure," Bray answered.

He wore a smile as he made his way to where Mearisdeana stood. She was beaming. The happiest Bray had ever seen her. The man who held her was big and muscled. In fact, all six figures were large, bald, and covered in the scales of their _dayskin._ Mearisdeana's partner still held his sword.

"Mearisdeana," Bray called when he was within a few feet of them.

She turned smiling, "Bray, this is—"

The big man cried a word Bray could not understand as he slashed with his sword.

Mearisdeana screamed a single sound as the sword swept in. She threw herself in front of Bray to deflect the stroke.

Bray, remembering how this blade had slice into the _dayskin_ of one of the Prince's own men, spun her around, away from the blade. The sword cut into his side and continued through his body. _Strange, I expected more pain,_ Bray thought. All he had felt was a hot tingle.

Then Mearisdeana was there, screaming at the man. He grunted something defensive in return. They argued back and forth, while Bray felt his back and wondered what had happened. When he refocused on the argument, he realized that Mearisdeana was demanding that the large man do something, but he was refusing as he pointed at the sky. Finally she said something in a disgusted tone, and her appearance started to change as her _dayskin_ disappeared.

Again she demanded something of the warrior. This time he complied. His _dayskin_ faded away also. Stepping close, Mearisdeana slapped him hard across the face before she turned back to Bray.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I think so, but understanding is beyond me."

"I am sorry for the way he acted. He thought you were the wizard who brought me here."

"Oh, then tell him I understand completely. I would have done the same."

Mearisdeana spoke to Adamtay again. When she was finished, Bray announced that they should go inside so the gates could be closed, if they were going to stay.

"Why am I still alive?" he asked when they were inside the city and the gates were closed.

Mearisdeana spoke to her lover and waited while he replied. "Adamtay says the sword will cut anything except someone who is sacrificing themselves for another."

"So the sword would not have harmed you either."

"Probably not, but thank you, none the less."

***

Ran found Ivo and the sergeant from the gate tending each other's wounds. Neither was seriously injured, so he had them organize a group of citizens to clean up the dead. Andoo Toran, the Wizard of Waysley, proved to be an able mender of wounds. He was kept busy.

The bodies of the dead pirates were loaded onto carts and removed from within the walls. Many of the pirates who had surrendered to the sailors died suspiciously during the first night. Over the years the merchant sailors had lost many friends to the pirates, so there were few prisoners left to deal with by the following day. Andoo Toran proved useful in removing the dead bodies. Ran did not ask how he managed it. Magical doings were best left alone, by Ran's reckoning. The dead bodies of the mayor and the magistrate were found in the mayor's house when someone thought to look for the eminent duo. Who was responsible for their demise was never discovered, as the only evidence was a trail of single bloody boot prints entering and leaving the house. Their ill-gotten riches were also lost.

# Chapter 59

"Where are we going?" Nailmoe asked.

He and Adamtay were following Mearisdeana and a young barmaid who worked at the inn they were staying at. They were following a forest path through the vegetation Mearisdeana had called trees.

"We are going to bathe in the water," Mearisdeana called back to him.

"In that big thing they call the lake?" Adamtay asked apprehensively. "It tried to kill me the first time my uncle sent me here. I am reluctant to give it a second chance."

"No, not in the lake," Mearisdeana said. "I do not want to enter that water either. That is why I asked Tyrese to guide us someplace safe for non-swimmers. She assures me she knows just the place."

Mearisdeana said something to the young girl acting as their guide, and they both laughed. The barmaid looked back at the two men. Nailmoe thought she had a nice smile, and she definitely had a well-proportioned body. Nailmoe was starting to notice bodies, well-formed or not, as their stay stretched into its third, seven-day period. Not that he minded being here, none of them did. They were all treated like heroes by everyone they met. The town's people knew they had helped save their homes. They called them the Dragon People, and bought them food and drinks every night, but Nailmoe was developing an appetite for something else—a woman. It had been too long since he had been with one.

The trees around them stopped as the path ended. Ahead, falling water splashed its way down a rock face that rose to the height of three men. The water filled a pond before continuing as a narrow stream into the trees. They had come out onto a large flat stone, one of many that encircled the pool. Their guide said something to Mearisdeana and pointed to a lower area that bordered the pool with earth instead of rock.

"Tyrese suggests we enter the water there," Mearisdeana informed them as she pointed. "It is not as deep as here. She said that this is a good place to do something called _diving_."

Mearisdeana took Adamtay by the hand and led him towards the spot. Nailmoe walked across the rock to where Tyrese stood. The water was a man's height below the rock on which they stood. He stepped closer. Tyrese placed a hand on his arm and shook her head to indicate, no. He was beginning to understand the body language the locals used.

"Why?" he asked in his own language. She looked at him for a second and then must have understood. She reached down and picked up a fist-sized stone. She rubbed her hand up and down his _dayskin_ covered arm and then rubbed it over the stone. She repeated the movements again and then held the stone up beside his arm. He nodded understanding. She tossed the stone into the water. It disappeared leaving only a circle of ripples spreading out from the spot. Tyrese then picked up a piece of vegetation from one of the tree plants and tossed it into the water. It floated on the surface.

Nailmoe smiled and nodded his understanding. She returned his smile and then took his hand in hers and led him towards the spot where Mearisdeana was trying to coax Adamtay into the water. Standing at the edge of the pool, Tyrese pulled at his cloak and then undid the cloth belt that encircled her small waist before pulling her dress over her head and placing it on the grass. Nailmoe did not require any other clues as to what was expected. He stripped away his cloak, shirt, pants, and under garments. Tyrese's eyes were sparkling with humour, and then he let his _dayskin_ disappear. Her eyes went wide with wonder and then something else... appreciation perhaps. She stepped close and ran her hands across his chest. He shuddered with delight. She took his hand again and led him into the water.

When they were waist deep, she touched her eyes and indicated he should watch, as if he could look anywhere else. She eased her body back until she was lying on the water. She seemed perfectly still until he noticed the fluttering of her hands. He nodded understanding. She stood and with a gentle hand laid him back into the water. He felt the water encircle his body in a cool refreshing embrace and Tyrese's hand under his back. Over the next few minutes she showed him how to flutter his hands to stay afloat and to flutter his legs to cause movement.

When she was satisfied, she pointed to a spot where the pond was bordered by rock and motioned for them to go there. Floating on his back, with her moving beside him using graceful movements of her arms and legs, they made their way to the spot. She held to the rock and supported him while he reached up and found a hand hold, and then she let one of her hands caress his chest. He encircled her with his free arm and pulled her close. The heat of her body replaced the cool of the water as she came against him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"I will remember you forever," Nailmoe told her, and strangely he meant it. He had seduced many women, but never had he met one who was a willing, anxious, partner, a seductress who seemed to be his equal in appetite, a dream come true.

She smiled and covered his mouth with hers.

That evening at the inn, Nailmoe could not keep his eyes off her as she worked. He kept remembering her body pressed against him, the heat of her embrace offsetting the cool touch of the water. He remained late in the common room watching her, until the inn was empty and Karack was turning down the lamps. Nailmoe made his way up to the room he shared with Adamtay. The room was empty, as it had been every night after Mearisdeana had made it apparent she expected him to join her on their first evening here. Silence settled on the inn and a short while later there was a soft knock at his door. Tyrese slipped into the room and without hesitation into his bed and his arms. She started to climb on top of him, but he held her off, flipped her over onto the bed, and started applying his own love-making methods.

Nailmoe had been told by many women that he was a wonderful unselfish lover. He enjoyed making love, but he enjoyed bringing a woman to a point of anticipation more. Foreplay was his specialty, and he used every technique he knew on Tyrese. It was memorable for him, and, if her moans were any indication, for her also.

***

They stood beside the spot where Adamtay and his men had arrived. Mearisdeana inhaled deeply. The smell of the trees left a taste on her tongue. How appropriate, she though. The first smell I noticed in this new land and the last I will experience. She would miss this place, although she was so looking forward to returning to her own world.

Adamtay stood behind her. Bray, Ran and Manda stood off to the side. Four of Adamtay's men were grouped together, while Nailmoe stood apart, holding the young waitress from the Plucked Hen. Mearisdeana shook her head in wonder. How he had managed to start a relationship with a woman from a different race was baffling. Neither spoke a language the other understood, but the way the woman clung to Nailmoe said words were not important. Mearisdeana should probably assume some of the fault, for she had asked the girl to lead them to a place to swim. She had insisted Adamtay and Nailmoe experience water in a good way. It was one of the things she would always remember about this place.

She walked over to her friends. "Thank you, Manda, for everything you taught me. I hear you have taken on a new crewman," she said, nodding towards Ran. The redheaded woman smiled. There was something in her face that had not been there before. "I would like you to have this as a keepsake. You admired it once," she said as she handed Manda the necklace Adamtay had given her. "Something to remember me by."

"Thank you, but it is not necessary. I will never forget you. How could I?" She tried to hand the gift back, but Mearisdeana pushed her open hand away.

"Please keep it and remember me. I will remember you and your world always."

"Treat her well," she said, turning to Ran.

"Whatever you say, Scales."

She turned to Bray. He opened his arms as an invitation, she stepped in. "Thank you, Bray, for... for everything. Is it true you are going to Nadia?"

"Yes," he replied. "I have to return my father's swords. It was a promise I made on the day he died."

She stepped away. "Good luck to you all." She took Adamtay's hand and they returned to the other four. Nailmoe joined them. Adamtay took something from his pouch. From a small black bag he took a glass vial containing a red liquid and a large crystal. He poured a red substance from the vial onto the crystal and held it up to the sun. Immediately it started to glow, casting a light above their heads. He spoke a few words, and a black hole appeared behind them. Turning, they all stepped into it, and disappeared.

# Chapter 60

The Thesia stairs crested halfway into Upper Thesia. Bray moved to the side on the top most step. Thesalian porters trudged by him carrying their loads upstairs, or returning downstairs for another. Bray and his father had paused on this exact spot those many years past, their first stop on the trade mission which had taken his father's life.

"Most cargo being taken south—our Nadian goods included—is floated down the Trade River from Riverrun North. It is on the south east coast of North Lake. The Trade River runs from Riverrun North to Riverrun South, which is located on the Lazy River," his father had explained. "From there the goods are taken to settlements further south, or through the marshes into South Lake. The Trade River cannot be navigated from south to north. It flows too quickly. A road runs beside the river and can be used to transport goods from south to north, but for perishable goods, when speed and time are important, most use these stairs between Lower and Upper Thesia. The people of both Thesias make their living carrying those goods."

His father had pointed out the geography of the South Lake spread out below them. It was better to talk here. Farther down the stairs, the ever present roar of the Thesia River with its many waterfalls made conversation difficult and at times impossible. Bray's eyes refocused on the present, trying to leave the past back where it belonged. He looked for the distinct sail of the _Red Witch_ on the part of the South Lake he could see, but it was no longer visible.

Manda had given him free passage to Lower Thesia from Waysley. He had not seen much of her or Ran, as they had been occupied most of the time in Manda's cabin, teaching Ran the intricacies of sailing and chart reading, they said. Bray had been preoccupied with the past and his new emptiness. Retrieving his father's swords had been his goal for ten years. Becoming a Tawshe _trueone_ had only been a means to achieve his true purpose. Now his life had turned a corner, but he felt empty. Could it be because his companions were gone?

He missed Kat, Lee, and Mearisdeana. Surprisingly he missed Ran as well although he never would have admitted it. Ran had been an enemy... an antagonist... a... what, he could not really say. He had tried to hurt or kill Bray so many times, but had also saved his life. Ran was an enigma to Bray and maybe to himself as well. Mearisdeana and he had talked one time about why Ran had accompanied them. She had believed that he was searching to fill a loss he had felt since the day T'Shawn and the others had died. Bray had not understood her then, but he felt he had a glimmer now of what she had meant.

"May the Mother be with you, Ran," Bray said to the wind. "I hope you find what you seek." He turned from his contemplations and looked out far across the North Lake. Nadia was out there. Bray was going home.

He found an inn called the Simmering Pot not far from the wharf.

"We specialize in stews," the owner told him when he came to Bray's table. "People come from all over to sample our fare. We have one serving of a very tasty stew left if you are hungry. It was made from a young glyptodon that was brought in a few months ago. What remains is the last of the meat. Our customers have raved about it. Are you interested?"

"I would like that," Bray told him.

"We also have a fine white wine from the vineyards of the King of Nadia." The man lowered his voice. "The King is a drunk, but I have to admit he makes a nice wine."

"Then I will try a glass, thank you."

Bray stretched out in his chair, appreciating the warmth coming from the large stone fireplace beside him. A wind was blowing across the North Lake. He had felt it as he crested the stairs. It brought a slight chill to the air along with the clean smell of water. He had hardly settled when a group of six men entered the inn. One was talking loudly telling a crude story in which he played a prominent part. They started towards Bray's table, but stopped when they noticed him. The man who had been talking looked to one of his companions and snapped his fingers. The rest waited while the man came forward.

Bray could not remember ever seeing anyone dressed in such fine garments. All six were attired rather grandly, in his opinion. Fine cloaks, feathered hats, and soft leather breaches were worn by all, but the man approaching was the fanciest. Courtier was the word from somewhere in his childhood that sprang to Bray's mind, as the man stopped before him.

"Would you mind terribly changing tables? We are regular customers and always use this spot. Plus it is large enough to handle six while you are just one."

Bray noticed a few other tables large enough to handle their numbers about the room, but the man had asked nicely.

"No problem." He stood, picked up his pack and the wrapped bundle containing the two Nadian swords, and moved to a smaller table.

"Thank you," the Courtier called after him. The other five converged on the table.

"Innkeeper, you have hungry customers," the loud man yelled.

The innkeeper reappeared carrying a bowl and a glass which he deposited on Bray's table before going to the group.

"Bowls of the glyptodon stew we have heard so much about, and make it quick man, we are hungry."

The innkeeper wrung his hands. "I am sorry, Your Highness, but that stew is gone. I just served the last bowl, but we have a wonderful boar stew, very tasty."

"We came for the glyptodon stew. That is what I want." He pointed at Bray. "He has not tasted it. Bring it to me. A Nadian prince is more important than any crofter. The others can have the boar."

"Your highness, I... it is not—"

"Do it, man!" the prince commanded.

The innkeeper was stricken with indecision. His mouth hung open, as he tried to find something to say.

Suddenly the courtier spoke. "I will do it, Your Highness." He sprang up and came to Bray's table. "Would you mind terribly?"

Bray looked at his pleading face, and then to the arrogant face of the Nadian prince. With slow deliberation he dipped his spoon into the stew and ate a mouthful.

The prince jumped to his feet. "You ignorant pig," he bellowed. "I challenge you... outside... now."

"When I finish my stew, Your Highness," Bray told him as he put another spoonful into his mouth.

The prince's face went red with rage. He stood and pulled back his cloak revealing two swords. "These are Nadian swords, pig, and I am going to carve you up with them. Bring him," he ordered as he turned and stormed out the door.

The four other men rose from their seats and came towards Bray who continued eating slowly, savouring the stew which was quite tasty. They stopped on the other side of Bray's table. The innkeeper and the courtier moved away.

"Outside."

"When my stew is gone."

"Now."

Bray's hands slipped behind his back as he stood. "Is he worth dying for?"

One of the men grabbed the table and flung it away. "Now!" he screamed.

Bray's knives were in his hands as he sprung forward. In moments all four men lay dead on the floor. Shaking his head, Bray re-sheathed his knives, knelt, and unbundled the oilskin containing his father's swords.

Dropping his cloak he motioned to the courtier, "You first," and then followed the man outside.

The prince had lost some of his bravado when the other four men did not appear. He lost more when he recognized that the swords in Bray's hand were Nadian made. He was no longer smiling as he took his stance.

They started slow, both unsure of what they faced. It became apparent to Bray that the prince was a master, one of the best he had seen, almost as good as Ran—almost. Bray held back. The prince gained confidence. Their strokes grew faster until their blades fairly flew. Time passed. Spectators gathered. It was reported later, by the courtier, that the prince fought better than he ever had, until he died.

Bray re-entered the inn then reappeared a few moments later, cloak back on, carrying his pack, and his Nadian swords. He approached the courtier. "Will you return these to Nadia for me?"

"It would be my pleasure, sir." Bray handed over the swords.

"I know who you are," the man told him. "Return to Nadia, and assume your rightful place."

"I no longer wish to see Nadia again." Bray looked at the dead body of the prince. "I remember now, I never liked him." Shouldering his pack comfortably he started away, but stopped, and turned back. "Use his money to pay for the damages. Losers always pay."

# Chapter 61

Lee wiped the tears from her eyes. She always cried when she visited this spot, the place Shawn had died. The village had raised three cairns to mark it. She was kneeling by Shawn's. A new bunch of wild flowers adorned his marker.

"I miss him still," someone said behind her.

She spun around on her knees. Bray stood there. Evidence of a long road lay heavy on his shoulders, and there was something else... a maturity maybe or a sense of... peace. She also noticed the slight squint of his eyes caused by the expression he wore, an expression of what? Longing? Hope? He dropped his pack and knelt in front of her.

"I hope that someday you will be able to forgive me, Lee."

She threw her arms around his neck, "Oh, brother, I forgave you months ago. Now, please tell me you have come home."

"Yes, I have come home, Lee, for a while anyway. I must become a _trueone_ if I wish to be a Tawshe Traveller."

### The End

# Acknowledgements

I would like to express my thanks to a number of people for their assistance with this book. Most of all, a special thank you to my wife, Laurie, for her edits, her encouragement, and for listening to the drafts on many long drives.

Special thanks also go to Shirley and David Barker, for reading the final draft, and finding those things the rest of us missed.

Although I spent a few months as crew on a yacht many years ago, I needed help with nautical terminology. My thanks go to Kathy Penfold and Barbara O'Reilly for their help in that area.

Despite herculean efforts by numerous people there may be a few errors in this book that were impossible to find before publication. I apologize for them, but acknowledge that they are all mine.

### Books by Dave Skinner

### My Father's Swords

### Travellers

### Confluence of Swords

### Mystery at Whitetop (A Lee and Bray Novella)

### from Blood and Magic

