by Colin Darney

Copyright and Disclaimer

Resthaven

© 2021 Colin Darney. All Rights Reserved

Published by Colin Darney on Amazon

Artwork by Irene Zeleskou

ISBN 979-8-9853166-0-5 (eBook)

ISBN 979-8-9853166-1-2 (Print)

Disclaimer

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Amazon or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright and Disclaimer

Table of Contents

Map of The Endless Plains

Map of the Serensea

Map of Resthaven

Foreword

Prologue

The Boat

The Fretting of a Dwarf

A Song of Sorrow

Rest and Remembrances

A New Day

Coming to Redtail

The Warehouse

An Unveiling

The Hold

An Uncomfortable Meal

The Duel

A Task Revealed

The Lord’s Counsel

A Morning Sail

A Fire and a Fish

Looking Forward

Saying Goodbye

A Nicer Meal

The Last Night

The Run

Preparing for War

A New Member

Basic Training

The First Sign

The Tol’An

Saress

The First Attack

Reflection

A Coming Storm

Resthaven

A Healing

Revelations

The Healing of a Villager

Stirring the Pot

A Long Night

The Next Day

Chaos in the Night

Aftermath

The Burden of Command

Rounds

Waking Up

The Rider

Dwarven Tactics

The Final Thrust

Epilogue

Afterword

Character List

Pronunciation Guide

Final Thought

Foreword

Hello!

The very first thing I’d like to say is: “Thank you for choosing to read my book”. I love to read a good story, and telling a good story is my only goal here. If I can entertain you for however long it takes you to read it, I’ve achieved my goal.

It’s been an adventure writing this, and after a year and a half I’m content that it’s where I want it to be. However, regardless of what I think, it’s you who will be the judge of what I’ve done here. I can only hope that as you read on, your judgements are kind.

Thank you again,

Colin

Prologue

The old matriarch squatted on a small rise and tore another piece of flesh from her kill. She lounged as she ate, absently watching her clan feast while the raw flesh stained her muzzle red with blood. Her cub was gorging itself on the rich meat at her side but paused, drawing her attention away.

A young male was in stalk; his belly hovering low to the ground, solely focused on the kill before them. Lightly touching the ground with his fingers, he kept his balance carefully spread as he crept forward. His long feet stretched out behind him, giving the appearance that he had two knees, as he moved ever so cautiously forward.

The old matriarch flattened her rounded ears in warning at his temerity. Raising her hackles and shifting her weight, she prepared to defend her kill and her cub. But the male continued his approach, not noticing her subtle warnings.

Eyes dilated and fixated on the kill, he was oblivious to everything besides the carcass before them. He was a promising young hunter and had proved his worth to the clan. Someday he may be worthy enough to mate one of the other females, but his worth to the clan was over if he continued his approach. The old matriarch would tolerate this mistake for the clan, but her tolerance came to a sudden end as he gathered himself to lunge.

She reached for her axe.

A long, drawn-out growl from deep within her throat finally pierced his inferior brain. The sound, filled with barely controlled malice, broke through his bloodlust and his instinctive need to feed. Realizing his mistake he froze, then slunk away with short yips of submission.

She watched him flee, her merciless golden eyes unwavering as they tracked him to ensure his departure. The many scars of her victories spoke of her prowess, marking her skill for all to see. Only one had ever come close to defeating her, and the torn ear and four claw marks across her face from that battle only added to her horrifying visage.

Her cub returned to its meal as the male retreated, the threat of violence over. The iron scent of blood filled the air as the matriarch paused to look around, and with no other obvious threat, she returned to her meal as well.

Specks of blood splashed onto her spotted pelt as she ate, combining into a growing stain that added new accents to her already predatory image. With no others nearby, she relaxed even further to bow her long thick neck down to the kill. Shaking her short black mane in the process, she tore off another bite with her jaws, disturbing the gathering flies.

This had been a good hunt she decided while chewing the hunk of flesh. There had been many soft meats in this den, enough for the entire clan, and their flesh was good. It was not often that the clan was able to feast on soft meats as they normally covered themselves with hard shells and long claws.

But these soft meats were dumb and foolish, not even walling off their den to protect their young. The males had assaulted this soft meat den almost completely unopposed. And the few, old, toothless defenders were killed off easily enough, despite their bravery.

She swallowed and a long flap of tendon caught on one fang, leaving it dangling past her lip. Using a claw from her paw-like hands she picked at it, but it stubbornly stayed there no matter what she did.

In frustration, she grabbed another limb from the kill and tore it from the corpse. Biting down on it, she sheared through the limb and cracked the bone in two. Stripping away the flesh, she slurped it down, leaving the bone bloody but clean.

Crunching one end to a point, she gnawed on it some more, making it thin and slender. Then with her refinements complete, she used the pointed end of her newly made tool to pick out her teeth. And in the process, removed the tendon that was still so annoyingly stuck there.

One of the other females cautiously approached, crouching on her elbows and knees. That female froze, lowering her head, submissively presenting herself for scenting, as she should.

The old matriarch took her time before acknowledging her presence, leaving the female in the uncomfortable position. She casually cleared her teeth of any other debris before crunching her newly made tool to bits and gulping it down. Then throwing the other piece of the limb to her cub, she deigned to notice the female. Circling her, she consented to scent the female and allow herself to be scented in return.

The old matriarch was pleased. This female continued to hold herself still for the inspection; no fight would be needed here this day.

The female wanted to know how long the clan could stay. The clan was happy, bellies were full, and water was plentiful here in the soft meat territory. Game was numerous as well, and there were possibly even fish in the flowing water nearby. A new mating could be had, and they could mark this place with their scent, making it theirs for the new denning of the clan. Many cubs could be raised on the sweet flesh of the soft meats while they claimed and expanded their hold on this rich land.

The old matriarch let out a low warning growl of displeasure, causing the female to flatten herself on the ground in submission. The female had done nothing wrong, making suggestions and asking simple questions that she had every right to do. But she had no idea that The Great Clan would not allow it. This female had never been summoned by the Great Mothers. Nor had she ever faced the others, alone, without her clan. This female had never endured that test.

The old matriarch privately agreed with her. The soft meats were destroyed and their territory was open, rich in all the clan needed. Her line could mark this territory as their own and drive out all invaders who dared intrude on this plentiful place. New matings could be had, and their cubs would grow in number until they could defend this place for all time. Her line would rise above all others. All would fear her clan!

But the clan could not stay. The Great Mothers had been clear. The others even more so.

There was no mistaking what the Great Clan wanted her to do; no question about her task. Her clan would continue to find the dennings of the soft meats and gorge themselves on them as the Great Clan demanded. Always moving forward, they were only to stop when they could go no more, or when they died.

They would do this, or her clan would be destroyed.

She growled louder as she remembered the promised annihilation of her line. The clan froze as her growl turned into a raging snarl. Her line would not be destroyed!

In a burst of fury, she ripped the kill away from her cub, lifting it in her paw-like hands while ferociously thrusting her jaws into its remains. She ripped a huge chunk of viscera free from its chest while glaring all around. Then she dropped the kill to the ground at her feet, her hackles on end.

The female cringed as the kill thudded to the ground before her wide, fear-filled eyes. Splashed in the face by only a few droplets of blood, the female flinched, then urinated in fear as she slunk away, desperate not to draw attention to herself. But the old matriarch paid her no mind as she continued to glare out over the clan.

No one dared to meet her gaze.

The clan must leave this place, maybe in a day, maybe more. Females would vie for dominance, their chosen mates at their side. Weaker males would fight, posture, and brag as they tried to mate. The cubs, watching, learning, as they grew stronger from being rested and well-fed.

But no, they could not stay.

The path they’d found in the trees was filled with the scent of more soft meats, and they must follow where it led. They dare not rest with their bellies full, no matter how much sense it made. They must follow the path to the next denning, as they had to this one, or the others would report it to the Great Clan. And the Great Clan was coming ... her line must not be destroyed!

The old matriarch stalked over to the kill pile snarling and daring any to oppose her.

None did.

Every member of the clan lowered their heads in submission as the old matriarch came near and grabbed another corpse from the pile. She dragged it back to her cub and used one claw to rip open its belly, exposing the rich organs inside. Reaching in with her hand, she rooted around and ripped the heart free before dropping the corpse to the ground at her feet. Then she sat, eating absently, guarding her cub and looking past them all to where the others were, hidden by the trees.

The clan slowly returned to its meal as the threat of violence from the old matriarch ended. They had followed her, leaving the plains and their old hunting grounds. Travelling far, crossing the great life-water as a clan, and entering this rich new realm. They had done something only sung in the old songs, and they were wary in this new place.

Joined by the strangers who sang the songs of the ancients, the clan learned new things. The old matriarch pointed to claw marks on dead trees, and said the strange scratchings told tales. That the tales they told pointed the way to weak dennings, and there they could find weapons and meat.

The clan watched her from the corners of their eyes as she continued her meal. Her golden eyes were on the path they’d found which led to the next denning. Brooding.

They were glad for the bounty her leadership had brought and would follow where she led. Even here where the songs said to be careful and not to stay for long. For the old songs were wrong this time. There were no hard meats, no long claws, no air fangs, and no soft meats that brought the thunder here. No, all they had found here were the soft meats; and here the clan could feast for all time.

And as the old ondilaan matriarch ate the heart of the human child she had eviscerated for her cub, the village they’d destroyed burned around them to the celebratory cries of the clan.

The Boat

“Run, Mikey! Run!”

“I am Donnor, ya’ daft fool! Don’t ya’ be waitin’ on me.”

Mr. Gemhands’ little dwarven legs moved as fast as they could while Donnor yanked on Tommy’s arm to get him to run faster.

“Tommy, don’t look back,” his da’ urged looking behind them. There was a terrible scream. “Keep running! Mikey, run for the boat!”

Tommy’s da’ and Mr. Gemhands had always been friends; the men called him Mikus, but only his da’ called him Mikey. Mikus was the village's woodcutter, and the two families were so close that Mr. Gemhands’ son Dawd and Tommy were basically brothers.

Tommy and Dawd had been delivering wood this morning; going back and forth through the village, taking what Mr. Gemhands had cut from house to house. They’d been having a wonderful day, finally able to do the job on their own as men since Tommy’s eighteenth birthday a few weeks before.

That is, until the fires started.

There’d been a strange whistling sound coming from the path to Torensdell, followed by terrified cries of “FIRE” from around the village. While they had been wondering what was going on, a tremendous noise exploded from countless throats.

The sound started low, then climbed in pitch until it painfully pierced their ears. WhooOOP! Then the first snarling ondilaan warriors came rushing in from the forest around the path, accompanied by their uncanny laughter. HEHEHE! HEHEHE!

The calls of the ondilaan were more frightening than even the tales Tommy had heard. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck as they scrambled away from the terrible creatures. Sprinting for Dawd’s house in utter panic, they were sure they could find safety there. But they only found the ondilaan instead.

A warrior had Dawd’s mum cornered in the kitchen as Tommy rushed through the door. Dawd screamed and attacked it, grabbing his father’s dagger from the stand beside the door. A predatory glance followed by a chuff of contempt encompassed the totality of the ondilaan’s reaction. Then Dawd died, split in two by the casual swing of its huge double-bladed axe.

His falling body sprayed Tommy’s face with thick sticky blood and bits of gore, shocking him into paralysis. He watched in horror as Mrs. Gemhands jumped onto the warrior’s back, wailing with grief and loathing. Grabbing onto its mane in her fury, she uselessly beat her fists on its back.

It threw her off with contemptuous ease. Then lunging down, it tore out her throat with its gaping jaws as she futilely tried to push it away. Bekka gurgled out one final gasp just as Mr. Gemhands and his da’ burst through the door.

Tommy spun towards Mr. Gemhand’s horrified cry. With barely a pause, they fearlessly threw themselves at the creature, their knives already drawn. The warrior whipped its head around, yellow eyes widening in surprise as it tried to meet their charge. Dodging multiple swipes from its axe, they killed it, blood flying from their knives like rain. They stabbed it over and over again until it fell, collapsing on top of Dawd’s mum.

"Tommy! Where's Dawd?" his da' yelled.

Tommy pointed one shaking finger off to the side at the remains of his body.

Donnor took in what was left of Dawd with a single glance. "Mikey, grab the axe! We gotta move! Let's go!" He grabbed Tommy by the shoulder and shoved him towards the door.

Mr. Gemhands heaved the ondilaan’s spotted corpse off his wife. Bending over her, he desperately tried to stop the flow of blood as the last bits of life drained from Bekka’s eyes. He looked up at Donnor’s shout, the shock of the death of his wife and son written clearly across his face in horror and pain.

"Mikus! We are leaving!" Donnor screamed as he grabbed Mikus by the collar and dragged him to his feet. "Get to the boat!"

Mr. Gemhands let out a single, strangled sob as they ran from his home. Tears streamed down his face disappearing into his thick black beard. They made streaks in the spots of blood and soot as they fell, turning his countenance into something primal and grim.

Lakeside was burning. Flames roared to Tommy’s left and right, the sight of them filling him with dread. Clouds of thick black smoke choked the village as screams filled the air. Villagers were running every which way in the ensuing chaos trying to escape. Some ran towards the forest, others towards the shores of the inland sea the village sat on.

As he ran by Mrs. Sweetflour’s house, another warrior burst from her door, tackling his da' to the ground. Donnor managed to shove Tommy out of the way of its grasping claws as he fell, slashing out with his knife and blooding it in the process. Then Mikus struck, severing one of its legs at the knee and spraying the house with blood as it howled in pain.

"Go! I got this ya' fool!" Mikus growled as he furiously buried the axe in the ondilaan’s head. "Ye canna’ fight wi’ only a knife! Go!"

"Mikus, we need to get to the Hold! This isn't the time to do anything stupid!" his da' insisted, grabbing his arm.

"I'll no be makin’ my stand here," Mikus replied with a growl. "Get ta' yer’ boat! I be comin'," he said as he pulled the axe out of the downed warrior. He set himself, turning back to face the way they had come.

“We'll be waiting for you, old man!” Donnor grabbed Tommy, pulling him along behind him as they scrambled away. "Get to the boat!"

The haunting calls of the ondilaan could be heard over the fire and screams as they turned the corner and lost sight of Mikus. WhooOOP! HEHEHE! HEHEHE! sounded over and over again getting louder the further they ran. They scrambled past another house, dodging the flames shooting out of its windows as his da’ sprinted off.

He said we needed to get to Redtail Hold on the other side of the Serensea! That they’ll protect us there … I hope so … I can’t run as fast as he can!

“Da’, wait up!” Tommy yelled as they continued their frantic sprint towards the boat.

A huge crash thundered from behind them as they rounded another corner. Donnor’s head whipped around as Tommy flinched and started to trip, causing his brown hair to fling to the side. He reached out and caught Tommy’s arm, holding him up as he got his feet back under him.

Snarling and crunching came from back around the corner, followed by someone letting out a blood-curdling cry. The horrible sounds of that screaming villager spurred them on even faster.

“Help! Di’ii! My baby!” Ari screamed in terror.

Donnor dove and tackled the elven woman to the ground as her shop collapsed with a tremendous crash. His da’ rolled to shelter Ari with his body as a huge cloud of smoke and embers billowed out behind them. The chasing ondilaani warriors quickly jumped back as burning debris flew everywhere.

"Die, ya' bastards!" Mikus screamed as he came into sight again, charging them.

Mr. Gemhands began chanting something in dwarvish Tommy'd never heard. Mikus's chant could be heard through the smoke, accompanied by the sounds of fighting. The growls and screams of the ondilaan accented the battle taking place.

“Ari! You’ve got to run!” Donnor yelled, trying to get her attention.

His da’ wrestled with her, struggling to keep her from running back into the burning remains of her shop. Ari fought back, almost throwing him off in an amazing display of maternal strength as the screams around them got louder, and the calls of the ondilaan got closer.

“Ari! We’ve got to go!”

Mr. Gemhands emerged from a swirl of smoke without his axe, snarling and speckled with embers. He grabbed Ari by the belt and simply started dragging her away. Donnor caught one flailing arm; the other stretched out desperately behind her, grasping towards the collapsed shop.

“Di’ii!” She screamed, as a burst of flame shot from the structure.

“Mikey! The boat!”

“Aye, I know,” Mr. Gemhands shouted as he continued dragging Ari away.

Tommy grabbed Ari’s other hand as they hauled her forward while the cackling calls of the ondilaan closed in from every direction. She cried, and in between her sobs she babbled in a language he’d never before heard.

Ari had arrived in the village barely a year ago and was the village seamstress. Everyone liked her, even the animals, and she’d just given birth to the elfling she’d named Di’ii. The village women doted on the adorable baby girl, and Ari had even been letting him hold her. But Tommy still remembered Mum and Da’ arguing the day she arrived, and neither of them would tell him why.

Mr. Gemhands started chanting under his breath in time with his running feet as they dashed madly through the streets. Not a spell; no one in the village had magic. It was just the dwarvish chant he always did while working, though this time there were quite a few strange and angry words Tommy didn’t know mixed in.

Another loud crash sounded behind them and they struggled to get Ari up on her feet.

“Tommy, run ahead. Go untie the boat!” His da’ struggled to gather her up in his arms while Tommy sprinted away.

People were just jumping into the Serensea in utter panic as Tommy ran by. Screams from behind him spurred him onward as images of horror invaded his mind. Tommy’s breath came in short quick gasps; his pulse, pounding in his head.

Finally, he thought as their boat came into sight tied up at the end of the plank they used as a pier.

Tommy leapt into the boat as another scream sounded and yanked on the line, causing the bow knot to fall apart. The boat next to theirs was on fire, and he pulled a flaming arrow out of their own as he ran by. He’d just untied the aft line as Da’ and Mr. Gemhands threw Ari into the boat and clambered on board.

“Everyone grab a pole and push!” Donnor yelled.

Tommy grabbed and heaved, the three of them pushing as hard as they could to get their vessel away from shore. Tommy’s hands shook in fear as he leaned his weight into the pole, and they ever so slowly started to move.

Another house collapsed somewhere close by, accompanied by another massive cloud of ash and smoke billowing up into the air. A loud rising whooOOP sounded seemingly in jubilation at its echoing crash. The shadowy figures of the ondilaan could be seen stalking here and there through the smoke, hunting what was left of their people.

They poled faster.

Tommy looked back towards his house and found it completely engulfed in flames. Movement nearby caught his attention, and he noticed Mrs. Sweetflour back at her house doing something strange. She was sprawled halfway out of her window on her stomach, her arms draped limply towards the ground. Her whole body moving up and down almost as if she was trying to lift something up from outside over, and over, again.

What is she doing? Her house is on fire!

Flames shot out of the windows of her house as Tommy looked on. Horrified, he watched as they started billowing out of the one she was hanging out of too.

Her back is on fire! Why didn’t she get out of her house!

They poled even faster.

“Tommy, raise the sail!” Donnor yelled.

He dropped his pole, looking at his da’ in disbelief, then quickly tried to catch it before it fell overboard. Tommy’d never raised the sail alone before. No one did; it was a two-man job! Sure, you could do it, but the mast was almost as tall as five men, and the yard and sail were heavy.

“Don’t worry about the damn pole! Raise the sail!” Donnor barked.

Da’ never swore!

The simple fact that he had broke through Tommy’s shock as he whipped his head around. Donnor and Mr. Gemhands were red in the face, veins sticking out as they continued to push, slowly moving the boat further and further away from shore. They were still only a stone's throw away as the first of the ondilaan started rushing onto the bank.

Tommy’s hands shook as he scrambled aft towards the sail. He ripped loose the ties, freeing the yard from its rest, and started hauling the line. Thick smoke washed over them, and he couldn’t see the sail anymore, but it didn’t matter. He kept desperately hauling the line, the ties falling into the water in his haste as he coughed and hacked from the smoke entering his lungs.

Donnor swore over and over again as they struggled poling the boat. Then Mr. Gemhands grunted, and his voice started to sound strained as his chant dwindled off.

The smoke cleared and Tommy could see they were now about an arrow’s shot from shore. Terrified people were jumping into the lake, water spraying everywhere in their desperation to get away. He caught sight of the other boats, all on fire except for their own.

“Swim! Swim!” Ari yelled to someone in the water as she leaned over the side of the boat. Tears were streaming from her eyes in a river of fear for whoever it was.

Panic pounded on Tommy, but he shoved it down and just kept desperately hauling his line. I have to make Da’ proud, he thought, before catching sight of the newest horror to invade his mind.

The ondilaani warriors swarming onto the bank were rushing those who weren’t fast enough to escape. There were people on their knees begging for mercy.

And they were slaughtering them.

Why did they kill Mrs. Laften? She was the village baker; made the best cakes and sweets in the village! She’d never hurt a fly!

Now there was a dagger in her eye. Her body strewn on the ground under the paw of one of the ondilaan’s dog-like legs as it looked around with baleful eyes. That terrible warrior lifted its head towards the sky and let out a huge whooOOP! Its call made the long scars on its face stand out, before it was hidden by another cloud of black smoke.

The line abruptly jolted to a stop in Tommy’s hand. “Da’! The sail’s up!” he yelled as he rushed to tie it fast to the rail in the stern.

The triangular sail that had been luffing aimlessly suddenly caught a powerful gust of the morning breeze and snapped taut. Billowing full, the sail heeled the boat over and sent the mast swinging wildly to the side.

“Look out!” Tommy shouted as he struggled to control the line. He tried to tie it to the rail as it was being pulled through his hands, but the rope was moving too fast.

Ari was leaning over the side of the boat holding a pole stretched out into the water. Her head whipped around at Tommy’s cry; her eyes wide as she ducked away from the swinging mast, almost sending her tumbling into the ‘sea.

He forced himself to grab ahold of the line, burning his hands as he finally got control and cinched it to the rail. They started picking up speed as Ari struggled to stay aboard, grasping for the rail with one hand as she fought not to fall overboard.

Tommy threw himself forward, grabbing onto the back of her dress, scrambling to pull her back in. The tiller he’d left unmanned in his haste banged over, the boat turning itself back towards the village, moving closer and running parallel to shore. And as the boat became level again, he pulled Ari back from the brink.

Where’s Mr. Gemhands? Tommy thought as Ari collapsed on the deck. He whipped his head around remembering the grunt, worried he’d gone overboard too. Then after noticing him at the foot of the mast, he was filled with fear.

Mr. Gemhands sat slumped there with an arrow sticking out of his chest. Donnor threw his pole into the bottom of the boat and swiftly knelt by his side. Blood leaked down Mr. Gemhands chest as he mumbled to himself in dwarven; his da’ hurriedly inspecting the wound.

A noise drew Tommy’s attention: Ari was pulling someone through the water by the pole in her hands. Looking past her, he could see even more people in the Serensea, frantically swimming towards their boat. Their boat was just a fishing boat; it normally only held two or three people and their catch. There were dozens swimming towards them!

“Da', where’s Mum?” Tommy yelled, searching the swimmers for her golden hair.

“I don’t know, Tommy. We need to get as many people out of the water as we can!”

“But, Da’!”

“We don’t have time! Man the tiller, I need you to guide us. Keep us running along the shore, but don’t bring us any closer! Then set two points starboard of Rocky Point. That’ll get us to Redtail. And don’t stop for anything!” Donnor shouted as he turned away rushing back to the bow beside Ari.

Arrows were now landing around the people swimming in the ‘sea. Nasty black fletched things that whistled as they flew, shrieking like a hawk, and striking their people indiscriminately as they fell. And their people were screaming for help, their cries echoing sharply over the water, but they were too far away.

Tommy held the tiller in a white-knuckled grip as tears of frustration streamed down his face. He desperately wanted to help them, but his da’ said to hold their course, and not to stop. Donnor and Ari fished Mr. Geller, Mr. Silvertongue, Mrs. Greentree, her son Faltor, and finally Sella the barmaid out of the Serensea. Then Tommy slowly started turning away from sailing along shore and set his course heading north, towards Redtail.

Glancing back, Tommy caught sight of the people they’d left behind. He could hear them pleading for him to stop; but they were too far off course. They were swimming with all they had as arrows rained down, but the breeze was too strong, and their boat was too fast.

Rivers of tears ran down his face as he finished his turn, taking their people from sight. He imagined the horrors they’d left behind. He couldn’t see them anymore, the ones they’d left behind, but he knew their voices.

And those voices haunted him.

A new sound tormented him as they sped further away. Tommy started to hear what sounded like begging followed by crunching. And a strange noise that sounded like when old Mr. Hart gargled his medicine came from time to time.

He didn’t like those sounds. He didn’t want to know what they were; his gut clenching as he listened. The harsh cackling laughter of the ondilaan was sending shivers up and down his spine as the screams and cries of their fellow villagers were slowly being swept away.

Tommy wanted to fight, he wanted to hurt the ondilaan for what they had done. But he was no warrior; he was just a fisherman's son. What can I possibly do? The feelings of sorrow, frustration, and inadequacy that churned inside him were a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. But he forced himself to stand there against the tempest, planted like the mast, and steer them true.

Crying came from all around him in the boat and he wanted to help, but his da’ and Ari were caring for them. His da’ had told Tommy what he needed him to do. He had to guide them. No matter what happened he’d steer them true so his da’ could help the few that survived.

I won’t let him down.

Ari rushed back, hugging Tommy, babbling away in her beautiful tongue. She stared up into his face with those tear-flooded eyes, desperately trying to convey something, some meaning, in her panic.

That made it harder.

But Tommy blinked away his tears, clenched his jaw, and forced his gaze ahead. He refused to look at her while fighting the tightness in his chest and the burning of his injured hands. He forced down the sorrow, locking it away, and concentrated only on their course as they sailed away.

The screams of the villagers and the whistling of the arrows faded away behind them.

I won’t let them down.

The Fretting of a Dwarf

Mikus shoved down his sorrow and conflicting emotions as their burning village dwindled in the distance.

Donnor and Arisaylia were side by side in the bow, working closely together to help the ones they’d been able to save. It was hard to tell they weren’t one person in two bodies as he watched them seamlessly working together to care for them all. What one started the other finished with nary a word spoken. Neither paying any attention to their grief; tears, streaming, from Arisaylia’s eyes.

The two had already inspected everyone on board and found Dira Greentree to be the only one bleeding besides himself. He’d waved the two of them off in irritation, telling them to see to her first as he leaned against the mast, listening to her son hiccoughing between his sobs.

Donnor’s tanned brow was furrowed in concern as he handed ‘Ari’ a small pot of water to wash away the blood. She took it without glance or comment, then continued her ministrations while Dira moaned in pain.

Heh, wha’ a sight we be, Mikus thought. Nine desperate souls full o’ sorrow, shoved inta’ one tiny fishing boat.

Watching the two work filled his mind with images of the past, causing him to think back on their surprise reunion. He’d been fearful when a pregnant Ari had appeared in the village a year ago, and wondered what new hell was going to befall his friend. They’d had years of peace in Lakeside to forget their past, and her unexpected arrival had shocked them both to the core.

But nothing happened.

No one in the village knew they had a history together. No one else knew how close they’d been. Mikus had no idea how the two of them had avoided giving themselves away in the tight-knit village. A village suddenly made smaller with her appearance.

But they had.

Now though? Just a casual glance would betray the obvious to anyone who cared to see. And there was no missing how naturally they fit together right then.

Mikus shifted his weight on the deck as he rested against the mast. He swallowed a grunt of pain while turning his gaze out over the inland sea.

No thrice-be-damned arrow goin’ ta’ make a Gemhands show pain! Tha’ clan masters be turnin’ their heads in shame.

But he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit that it hurt.

Tha’ damn thing’s a nasty one. He looked down noticing blood drying in his beard. Musta’ gotten rusty over tha’ years.

He hadn’t been in a battle in a long, long, time but he knew they’d been damn lucky to get to the boat. It was a good thing his friend Donnor always kept it ready to go. Otherwise, they’d all be dead.

As dead as me wife and son.

Tears formed again as he shifted around, trying to shove down the pain. He’d grieve later, there wasn’t time for it now. Turning his attention back to the two, he continued watching them work while he absently picked at the sticky, red blood that contrasted so sharply with the black of his beard.

Donnor was a confusing human. He had appeared out of nowhere with no history, no name, no clan, and no common sense near the city of Sirikii almost twenty years ago now.

Mikus’s family had escaped into the mountains after running from an Orc incursion, and they had been drawn to the Vale and Sirikii’s defensive magics with its promise of refuge for all. The elves did offer refuge, but that was about it. His family didn’t quite live in a slum full of desperate people, but it was close.

However, Mikus had been one of the lucky ones. Someone who had skills that could be put to use and he had quickly gotten a job as a smith’s assistant making everyday things for the refugees. He hadn’t worked in a forge in decades, but it’s something one doesn’t forget. And Bekka’d been glad for the increased pay to get her and Dawd out of the slums.

Most of the refugees in the growing camp outside of Sirikii had lost everything, and they were asked to help support themselves by fishing the wide river that flowed past the city. Fish were plentiful in the Willowisp, and the elves were expanding their small fleet of vessels to help feed them all. They needed many different parts for the construction of the small, sleek vessels they used, and he’d met Donnor one day while delivering parts and supplies from the smithy to the boatyard along the river.

He’d just finished unloading the parts from his cart and was on his way back when he saw the fool human fishing. Just sitting there, on the bank, fishing. With a string tied around a fancy-looking spear, using an empty potion bottle as a float, and wearing antiquated armor that looked like it belonged in a museum.

Mikus stopped in stunned disbelief and watched the idiot go. I mean, who fished that way, anyway? What were the fish going to do? Attack? It was just so stupid he had to know what was going on.

“Hey! Young human there! Are tha’ fish goin’ ta’ attack ya’?” Mikus yelled.

Some of the people wandering by laughed.

“Noooo … but you might when I pull in my catch,” he called back.

“Oh, going for tha’ ‘monster’ o’ tha’ Willowisp, are ya’?”

More laughter came from the people around them that had stopped to watch.

“Is that what this river is called?” Donnor asked, twitching his line.

“How could ye not know tha’? Are ye daft, lad?”

“I’m not from around here.”

Suddenly, something struck his line. The potion bottle disappeared beneath the surface, and the line made a ‘V’ in the water as it was pulled rapidly away from shore.

“I got one! I got one!”

“Aye, ya’ do at tha’, lad. Don’t be lettin’ it go now, or we’ll end up in tha’ dungeons fer’ sure fer’ releasin’ tha’ ‘monster’ on these poor folk.”

More laughter rang out.

“I won’t let it go.” He clenched his jaw. “I haven’t had anything to eat in days.”

The line stretched taught in the water, moving sharply left to right as the human fought whatever was on the line with a giant grin on his face. Whatever the idiot human had sure didn’t like being on the line.

“Haven’t ya’ been ta’ tha’ food lines in Sirikii, human?”

“Donnor,” he said.

“What ya’ say?” Mikus eyed him strangely.

“Donnor. My name is Donnor.”

Whatever was on his line thrashed back and forth, splashing water as it fought to get free.

“Fine. Donnor then. Have ya’ no been ta’ tha’ food lines in Sirikii?”

“What’s a Sirikii?”

The thing was really fighting now, and the human’s spear started to bend a little with the force of his catch.

“Tha’ blasted city not a half a day up tha’ road from here, ya’ dolt! My gods! Where’re ye from tha’ ye don’t know tha’ city yer’ in tha’ shadow of?” Mikus hollered back at him.

“I told you, I’m not from around here.” Donnor gritted his teeth as he struggled to pull the line in towards shore.

“How could ye even be here and not know o’ tha’ city! Every town an’ village fer’ leagues in every direction supports tha’ city. I won’t be callin’ ye a liar, but I think yer’ not telling a fair tale if ye get my meanin’.”

Donnor stood and walked backwards, grunting as he dragged his catch closer and closer towards shore.

“Are you going to help me with this or just talk my ear off all day?”

Mikus stepped back. Did this idiot human know the insult he just delivered? He wasn’t some woman to sit around gossiping all day! Who did this human think he was, offering such a casual insult?

“Gimme tha’ ya’ daft fool,” he growled, grabbing the spear. But Donnor refused to let go, so they both ended up dragging the line into shore together and exposing one of the biggest silverfins Mikus had ever seen.

“Now that’s a fish!” Donnor grinned. “Thanks, friend.” He smacked Mikus’s shoulder in appreciation and sat down, watching the silverfin flop around.

A few of the onlookers came closer and murmured how big it was.

“Who say I be a friend?” Mikus said with a raised eyebrow.

“I do. We talked, we fished, we brought in a fine catch, and you haven’t attacked me yet,” he replied.

“Oh, by tha’ lost gods yer’ thick in tha’ head, human," Mikus said in exasperation. "What’re ye going ta’ do now?”

“I’m gonna eat it,” Donnor said as he pulled out his belt knife and worked on getting the fish free of the line.

“What’re ya’ goin’ ta’ do, eat it raw?” Mikus was bewildered, looking back and forth between him and the fish.

“Noooo, I’m going to clean it and cook it on a fire. Do people eat raw fish around here?” he asked, looking at the dwarf in confusion as he dragged the fish further up the bank and started gathering sticks.

“My gods’ lad! Ya’ canna’ build a fire here! Don’t ya’ know tha’ elves no allow it?” Mikus demanded, stunned the human apparently didn't know.

“I’m not from around here,” Donnor repeated. He looked at the fish, then the sticks in his hands, shrugged, and continued gathering more sticks.

“Gaah! Come wi’ me lad before ya’ get thrown in irons fer’ makin’ fire in tha’ elves’ land.” And that was how Donnor ended up going back with him into the city.

Mikus chuckled to himself in remembrance.

The idiot human wasn’t pleased to give up so much of his fish in payment for the ride, but he settled his ire and ended up becoming a good companion. He even got himself a job at the forge doing simple work no one else wanted to do: cleaning the hearth, shoveling coal, stoking the fires and the like before moving on. He worked well, and even the forge master came to like him.

Mikus smiled to himself remembering those simpler times. But those times, the simple ones, had long gone by.

He shifted against the mast again, trying to get comfortable, while grunting softly in pain. Arisaylia noticed.

Damn elven hearin’.

Her piercing green eyes were tight with worry as she pushed her scarlet hair behind one pointed ear. Pursing her lips, she watched him, taking in his wound with a glance and radiating her concern.

By tha’ lost gods tha’ woman be beautiful.

Even with tears in her eyes, a smudge on her pale cheek, a torn blouse, and stains on her kirtle did not detract from her alluring beauty. Whatever had made the daughter of one of the Lords Wi’Jitikiin fall for an idiot human was beyond Mikus’s understanding. And, whatever made said daughter show up in a no-name village years after her lover and child were banished from Sirikii … well … that was sure to bring trouble.

Tha’s fer’ sure.

“Mikus,” she said in her soft, lilting voice, “you’re next.”

Donnor glanced up from tending Dira’s wound, his forehead creased from concentration and circles forming under his eyes. “How’re you doing, Mikey? Still hanging in there, old man?”

“Aye. Ya’ goin’ daft again, fool? A wee arrow won’t kill me yet.”

“I didn’t think so,” Donnor said as he went back to tending Dira’s bloody head.

The woman’s plump and rosy cheeks were pale and drawn as he worked on her. Dira was one of the village housewives, and her husband hadn’t made it; an axe sticking out of his head last Mikus had seen. Her son Faltor stared blankly back towards the village, now only a speck in the distance, crying softly.

Mikus stared at the back of Faltor’s head; the boy's black hair reminding him of his son. He shoved down the pain again and followed the boy's vision, finding the flames of the burning village dwindling in the distance and hard to see. But, the clouds of thick black smoke rising from the fires were like a scar on the sky. A beacon of destruction for all to see for leagues in every direction.

He looked away and sighed.

Donnor had learned some minor healing while in Sirikii from one of Arisaylia’s maids, and was using those skills now. There were no herbs, no poultices, no potions, and no bandages … but he was doing what he could. Donnor’s hands were steady as he sewed up Dira’s head with the needle and mending twine he used on his nets. His strong jaw clenched in concentration as blood seeped from between his fingers, staining his tunic and breeches while he stitched the wound. A far cry from the respected commander he’d become before escaping to the village.

A far cry, indeed.

“Da’, Rocky Point is approaching to port!”

Ari flinched with Tommy’s call, and glanced towards the boy while leaning one hand on the gunnel for support. Mikus thought she’d lost that haunted look whenever she caught sight of him months ago. But her eyes were filled with raw emotion now. Mikus watched Ari force her eyes away from Tommy and return to helping with Dira, a new flood of tears falling from her eyes.

“Good job, Tommy. Keep us two points starboard of it and we’ll have a day and a half, maybe two days, to Redtail”, Donnor replied.

“Aye, Da’. Do you want to steer towards Harpers Creek?”

“Not now, Tommy. That’d add a half a day. We need distance most of all.” Donnor went back to treating Dira's wound, letting out a huge sigh after glancing at Ari. Mikus glanced over his shoulder at the ‘boy’. Heh, he snorted, feeling something shift inside him around the arrow.

Born of the union of Arisaylia and Donnor, Tommy shared the features of them both. He had most of his father's height, strong shoulders, and wiry strength; his mother's intelligence, piercing green eyes, and a reddish tint to his brown hair that shimmered to scarlet in the sun. He was an attractive young man for a human, and had been noticed by more than one young lass in the village over the years.

Half-elves were rare; all khaglatdun were as Mikus’s people called them. Little was known about the various breeds because they were shunned or driven out. But Bekka had remembered some of the tales from the clanhold over the years that helped them raise the khaglatdun child, keeping him 'human' in the eyes of the villagers.

The almost elven sight and hearing had been a shock when he was a child, as Bekka’d not heard any tales regarding that. Hearing adult conversations through closed doors and seeing minuscule things from across the field had been hard to explain away. And Tommy had caused no end of mischief before they taught him to hide those traits.

But the tales that the half-elven khaglatdun lived longer, and aged and developed more slowly than their human relatives were proving true as Tommy had always appeared younger than his actual age. And though the young half-elf looked and acted fifteen or sixteen, he had just celebrated his eighteenth birthing a few weeks ago. The celebration had been a good one, and it was good he’d had the chance to grow up where he had.

Humans as a whole were more understanding, sometimes even allowing half-breeds to live close by, but the dwarves and the elves were not. The killing of infant khaglatdun was still practiced, seeing them as ‘monsters' and ‘leftovers’ from the ancient war, and a reminder of the horrors of those times. Since the half-breeds never really fit into either of their parent's societies, they generally spent their lonely lives hiding their lineage and wandering from place to place as far as he knew.

Bekka and he had explained all of this to Donnor who’d strangely never heard the ancient tales of horror regarding the various khaglatdun breeds. But together they’d struggled to hide Tommy’s lineage and make his boy as 'human' as they could. And they’d succeeded, the boy thinking himself no different from anyone else.

But damn if that boy hadn’t become a man during the chaos of their escape! He’d seen friends and family dead, his fellow villagers cut down by the ondilaan all around, yet he hadn’t broken down even once. He’d done what was needed, when it was needed, throughout the confusion of their escape. Then, he’d planted himself like a rock at the tiller and steered them away from their burning village, arrows falling all around them.

If he’d been of Clan Gemhands, he’d have been made a man that day. Even if he hadn’t blooded a thing; it didn’t matter. Dependability and steadiness in utter chaos were things that couldn’t be taught. You either had them or you didn’t. Of course, discovering those traits came at the cost of your innocence, but that was the price one paid.

Mikus’s chest heaved with another cough, and he felt something tear inside. There was a sudden taste of blood in his mouth as he licked his lips.

Tha’s no good.

“Mikus.” Arisaylia’s soft voice drew his attention as she knelt by his side. She placed her hand on his chest next to the arrow. “This has grazed your lung. Why didn’t you say anything?” A slight glimmer seemed to shine behind her eyes as she looked at him.

“How could ya’ possibly be knowin’ tha’, ‘Ari’?” Mikus replied roughly as he gave her a pointed look.

No one else besides Donnor knew she was a mage. The villagers shunned magic, as almost everyone did since the ancient war, and she’d rightly hidden her talent or been cast out.

“The blood on your lip, Master Dwarf,” she answered. “Donnor, I need you.”

Donnor came over and without direction cut away some of Mikus’s shirt with his knife. Then he used his muscled frame to shield her from view.

Speaking to herself softly in elvish, Ari’s hands began to glow with a scintillating, greenish-gold light. Tommy must have noticed, inhaling sharply behind him but said nary a word while she worked.

Good lad, tha’.

Mikus steeled himself against the pain as Arisaylia drew the arrow from his chest and dropped it to the deck with two, now glowing, hands. Blood poured from the wound as Ari pressed her hands back over it, coating them with gore. The blood hid some of the glow as the flow quickly lessened, then moments later stopped altogether. And when Ari removed her hands from his chest a short time later, there was not a mark to be seen.

Donnor placed a rough pad of cloth likely torn from his own clothing over the site and said loud enough to carry, “Luck was with you Mikey it wasn’t very deep. Still, rest a bit so the wound doesn’t worsen.”

“Aye. Thanks ta’ ya’ both fer’ fixin’ me up.”

Then all three looked up and took in Tommy, watching them with wide, astonished eyes.

“Somethin’ needs ta’ be said ta’ tha’ boy, Donnor. It’s soon time it must be comin’ out. Ya’ canna’ hide him from it forever.”

“I know,” Donnor murmured.

Ari gasped and looked away. Moving to the railing, she vigorously washed the blood off her hands in the Serensea without a single word. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she moved back towards the other villagers, pointedly not looking at Donnor, Mikus, or Tommy.

She began making sure everyone was as comfortable as they could be. Helping them with their sorrow, she gave of herself even though her eyes continued to well with unshed tears. Her beauty, combined with her soft lilting voice, putting the people at ease.

A quiet word to Dira’s boy and a kiss to his head was all that was needed to have Faltor curl up and rest. She helped Mr. Geller by rearranging the net to help support his back as he rubbed at his knees. A smile to skinny Mr. Silvertongue seemed to breathe some life back into his tall frame as he gazed far away. Finally, she settled herself beside the shapely barmaid, Sella, giving her a tight hug as the sounds of Sella’s crying and tears lessened over time.

Tommy stared after Ari, a look of wariness now on his young face.

Donnor glanced at his son, then Ari, then Mikus, then aft towards the village with another sigh and a look of loss.

Wha’ a blasted time for all o’ this ta’ be comin’ out.

Mikus had been telling his friend for years to tell the boy, but Donnor had never said a word. Not willing to cross his wife, or to cause trouble in his home.

Donnor had married a village lass who was willing to raise Tommy as her own not long after they’d settled in Lakeside. Yella was a kind woman, blonde and beautiful; a caring wife and a doting mother. She was the village apothecary, a pillar of the community, and her advice was sought for many things. Open to talking to anyone, about anything, with nary a bad word at all ... but she would not hear a single word from Donnor or him about Arisaylia.

Donnor loved Yella, truly and deeply; but not as much as he loved Arisaylia, and Yella knew it. He’d never said anything, but she’d figured it out over the years with Donnor’s sporadic descents into depression, and made no secret of her dislike for the elf in private.

Yella rejected Donnor’s past and jealously guarded her position as Donnor’s wife and Tommy’s mother. She would have no part in talking about ‘that woman’ or ‘your past’ in her home. And, she’d argued bitterly with him over telling Tommy the truth of his parentage.

Donnor eventually relented to her demands and kept quiet before Tommy was old enough to understand. For one reason, and one reason alone, he did so; subverting his will for his family.

All ta’ keep the peace.

And after years of peace, there was suddenly trouble again in Donnor’s home when Arisaylia showed up in the village. It was obvious to Yella who Ari was. No other beautiful, red-haired, green-eyed, elf maid would bother coming to such an out-of-the-way place as Lakeside by herself. And no other would look at Donnor arm-in-arm with Yella with such a poignant look of shock and devastation before quickly covering it up.

Mikus had stayed away after seeing the look of unbridled fury that crossed Yella's face, as any sane man would. Yella dragged Donnor back to their home that day for a tongue lashing loud enough to scare a dragon. The rage and shock that filled her, leaked from behind their slammed door. Rumors flew, but Yella kept the reasons for her ire private, not saying a word no matter who questioned her.

Donnor wisely kept his distance from Ari, and after a few months, Yella appeared to have calmed down. Yella wasn’t a hurtful or hateful woman, but she kept a close watch. And Donnor gave her no reason to wonder. Eventually, Yella seemed to accept Ari into the village with the birth of Di’ii, but it was obvious to any and all the two would never be friends.

An’ now, none o’ tha’ matters.

Mikus sighed and closed his eyes. Now Yella and Di’ii were dead. And so were Bekka and Dawd; along with all the other villagers except for the ones they’d saved. Tears escaped his eyes, and he refused to open them or brush them away. Death is a familiar thing in this land, but it was never easy.

I’ve buried too many souls in me’ two hundred years, Mikus thought. Too many souls.

“Ahh, me’ Bekka! Me’ boy!” he cried out in anguish as tears started to pour.

“Mr. Gemhands!” Sella exclaimed, and he found himself suddenly enveloped in a tight hug as she pressed the side of his head into her ample bosom. Her chestnut brown hair fell softly over him, blanketing him in its warmth.

I never cry, and dammit, I am’na’ cryin’ now! Just somethin’ in me eye. Yes, somethin’ in me eye, he thought as he continued to cry while trying to hold in his sobs.

He failed.

The breeze stayed steady, pushing the boat through the water towards safety. Most of the passengers looked back towards the smoke coiling up into the heavens. But as Mikus quietly sobbed by the mast while being cooed to by Sella, Donnor watched Arisaylia; and she watched him in return. And Tommy studied them both in a stunned and wary silence.

A few murmurs, the breeze, and the burbling of their passage the only sounds to be heard.

A Song of Sorrow

Damn them! Damn them all!

Arisaylia Saliantrea’s fingers were deep in Dira's scalp, the jagged wound bleeding profusely while the woman wept. Donnor handed her the pot he’d found somewhere filled with water from the Serensea. And she cleaned the wound, probing for the piece of debris that she knew was there.

If only I’d not been bound, I could’ve done so much more! Her soul crashed remembering that morning's horrors. It had started off so well ...

Mistle had picked Di’ii up from the crib, smiling and shooing her out of the house to go to her fitting. “You go. I’ve got our darling right here,” she’d said as she bounced and cooed to Ari’s infant daughter. Mistle’s smile lit the room as Di’ii grabbed the finger that had just bopped her on the nose.

“Mistle, you’re going to spoil her if you carry her everywhere,” she’d said, feigning exasperation as she watched the sweet scene.

The kind old woman who’d taken Ari in had become Di’ii’s second mother, using every chance she had to stay with Di’ii and care for her. Mistle doted on the elfling as if she were her own, and had become so much more alive since Di’ii had been born. Mistle’s sister had remarked on it more than once saying that Ari’s coming to the village was a breath of life for her, and Di’ii, a gift from the gods.

“Don’t you mother me,” Mistle declared with mock severity, a huge smile lighting her face. “I’ve raised four boys. Now you get! And leave this old woman to play with our little treasure. I’ve never had a precious little jewel to spoil, and you need to go take care of that silly little girl chasing Yella’s boy. And then, you can take care of yourself! I heard from Dira that Lonny Tarbrook has his eye on you, and it wouldn’t hurt you to dance with the man.

“Now shoo! Me and the princess have things to do. I have a special pattern to show you, something my mother passed on to me years ago, and I think you and our little darling should have it. Then we can dress you and your princess up for the harvest festival, and you’ll both look like royalty.”

Gods, truer words had never been spoken.

Ari had kissed her daughter on her head and left for the Tuulhod’s down by the Serensea. She’d arranged a fitting for their daughter for her new harvest dress. The girl had her eye on Tommy, and Ari wanted to know what the girl was about. Obviously over the moon for Tommy, the love-struck girl chatted away nonstop about wanting to impress him and catch his eye with the dress she was going to wear when the cries began.

Those cries had been her first warning; the screams, the next.

Arrows seemed to fall like rain as she sprinted desperately back home. The entire back of their home was a roaring inferno that spread and grew with unnatural quickness. She saw Mistle bouncing Di’ii through the front window, peering up into the sky, her face creased with confusion. And she’d almost reached the door when the back of the house suddenly collapsed, Mistle and Di’ii disappearing in a cloud of smoke and ash.

Ari knew she’d been screaming when Donnor tackled her to the ground, but even his presence couldn’t break her from the terror that gripped her as she struggled to reach Di’ii.

It had to have been some kind of working. Damn them! Damn them all, Di’ii! By all the gods, Di’ii!

More tears poured from her eyes, making it hard to see as she continued to probe the wound.

There it is!

She grabbed the finger-length spike of wood and pulled it from Dira’s scalp, throwing it over the side. Blood welled anew from the ragged gash, but now that the cause of her injury was gone, her wound would heal. She handed the pot needing more water, Donnor taking it without a word.

Thank life they’d been able to save those they could.

She remembered the Tuulhod girl’s eyes, awash with terror as she swam desperately towards them. The screams of the villagers on the shore behind her driving the girl’s frantic strokes. She was panting in unreasoning fear and had almost reached the pole when Ari heard a sudden “gurk …” Then the girl went limp, lolled forward, a black fletched war arrow sticking out of the back of her head. Her sad, lost body bobbing along as the boat slipped quickly away.

That moment destroyed her.

The girl, so happy, so innocent, so pure, having her hopes and dreams ripped away in an instant ... the horror of it overwhelmed her. Ari didn’t know who or what she was; didn’t know what to do.

Her eyes fell on Tommy and she knew she’d run to him, desperately trying to hold onto the one last thing that was hers. She pleaded with him to look at her, to comfort her, to do something, anything at all, frantic in her horror.

But he stood there rooted in place, his jaw tight, his hand on the tiller. His piercing gaze so much like his father’s, locked on their course, not a single mind paid to the arrows that rained down around them. It had taken many long minutes before she could think rationally again.

Damn the masters! Damn them all, Di’ii!

One spell. Just one working. One single use of her Tol, and she could have saved so many more. But there was nothing she could do. She could have saved the girl. She could have saved Mistle, her daughter ... Di’ii!

By the god’s, Ilari, is this what it’s like for you? In battle? Having no Tol of your own? The things you refuse to talk about when your eyes go far away? Knowing every life lost could have been saved if you’d only been able to do more?

Mikus grunted.

The thick-headed dwarf too proud to let her look at his wound when there was a woman needing aid. Gods, she loved him for it and the friendship he’d shown her beloved.

“Mikus, you’re next,” she said, concerned he would let it go on too long before allowing her to treat him. He met her eyes and nodded, trying to hide the pain she knew he was feeling while leaning against the mast.

“How’re you doing, Mikey? Still hanging in there, old man?” Donnor asked from beside her.

His voice comforted her; soft, rich and warm. He handed her back the pot so she could keep cleaning the wound, unerringly finding her hand, not even glancing at her in the process.

“Aye. Ya’ goin’ daft again, fool? A wee arrow won’t kill me yet.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Ari ducked her head away from Donnor, desperate to be held and comforted. But she concentrated on cleaning the wound instead, finding more splinters with her fingers while she washed.

Gods! I could heal this with a thought if we were anywhere else.

But she knew better. There’d be no way to hide her Tol from the villagers. Mikus and Donnor would allow it, even welcome it as they did not hold to the unreasonable fears of the land. But the villagers would not.

It needs to be sewn, there’s no other way.

Donnor turned away and started rummaging through the box he’d built into the bow where he kept his things.

I could have helped them! Saved them! Just one working! One use of my Tol!

But the binding was still there. Her heart broke thinking of how easily they all could have been saved. Just one use of the battle magics she’d been taught! But there was nothing she could do. Thank the gods her beloved and Tommy were safe.

Thank life he’d found her.

Donnor turned back with a needle and thread, bobbling handing them to her. A painful shock flared through her as their fingers touched, the snap and crackling from their contact deafening to her ears.

She quickly looked up, worried what he’d think about the pain and the sound. But he hadn’t noticed. Not a single reaction from him, nor anyone else in the boat as she glanced about.

Life, what was that? Why didn’t they hear?

But there was no time to think about it. She’d almost dropped the needle and thread in surprise, and hurriedly handed it back to him. Donnor had more experience treating wounds this way anyway, and he could sew while she held it shut. Blood was still running from Dira’s open wound as Ari pulled the wound together while he started to stitch. The poor woman moaned.

“Da’! Rocky Point is approaching to port!”

Tomilanthus!

Her head whipped around, scared that there was some new danger, some new threat, something they’d missed. But there was nothing, and she stared at him thankful that he was alive.

Life, he is such a beautiful boy. Their son!

Almost a man by human reckoning. A wonderful person; sweet and caring, full of life and laughter, healthy and strong. Gods, how she’d wanted him to be so close to his sister. To have them together. To have them whole.

Di’ii! By life you came, and through life you returned! But it was too soon! Too soon, Di’ii. Damn them! It was too soon! Ilari, it was too soon!

The painful shock she’d just experienced flared back through her body once more, snapping and crackling its way along her pathways. Her vision dimmed as she desperately reached out to keep from falling. She found the side of the boat, grasping it as she heard her ilari and Tomilanthus talking as if underwater.

Ilari! She screamed from inside her mind as the searing pain surged from place to place, burning and freezing her into immobility.

Donnor looked over, curiosity and concern written on his face. The longing she had for him and their son crashed over her, overwhelming her panicked thoughts as she fought to keep from passing out.

I’ve been such a fool. A naive little girl! Thinking he’d be there, waiting for me, ready to throw himself into my arms when I arrived. How can he stay so strong? How can he shove it all down and keep going on?

Oh gods, Ilari ... beloved ... I’ve been so selfish.

She couldn’t imagine his pain. Saving her and not being able to save his wife. Was he conflicted? Upset? Did he blame himself for saving her? Here he was beside her, helping her, being strong for them all when his wife was dead?

Life, I’ve missed you!

Where is Yella? Why wasn’t she with him? Who cares if the woman didn't like her; he didn’t deserve to lose her! He didn’t deserve that. Arisaylia loved Donnor so much she couldn’t begrudge him the love of a family when that family couldn’t be hers.

Gods, I love him ... life, I wish it was me!

He wanted her back at Dira’s side and she fought against the searing sensations to get to him. The pain from her pathways was incredible as she forced herself from the gunnel back to holding Dira’s wound at his side. Donnor’s fingers brushed hers again as he stitched, and the warm heat from his touch coursed through her, washing away the crackling pain like a gentle summer breeze.

Something’s happening … something is changing. Ilari, what is happening? She wished she could talk to him without the others so he could know what she was going through. Are you feeling this?

Her hands shook as the soothing cascade from his touch fought against the sizzling pain. Donnor glanced at her and probably thought she was overwrought. She was so embarrassed that he might think her weak, she dropped her gaze.

Oh gods, I need to talk to him!

Mikus coughed.

She looked up, spotting fresh blood on his lip. The dwarf had always been at Donnor’s side; at once the gruff older uncle and also a steadfast friend.

She remembered laughing with him and Bekka, leaning back into Donnor’s arms while her maids spread the picnic on the shores of the Awyrllyn behind them. The memory of that day, lying safe in his arms. Smiling and seeing smiles on their faces. The warmth of the sun, the peace of the day, watching Dawd take his first steps … the laughter and teasing ... breathless as Donnor kissed her…

She hurried to Mikus’s side, ignoring the sway of the boat, ignoring the memories, ignoring the inner pain. She placed her hand on his chest beside the arrow, the lance of Tol she thrust into him telling her instantly the severity of the wound.

“Mikus, this has grazed your lung. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“How could ya’ possibly be knowin’ tha’, ‘Ari’?”

Mikus, I don’t have time for this. I know you think I’ll hurt him for some reason, but I want to help!

“The blood on your lip, Master Dwarf,” she replied, unable to completely stop from clipping her words short, frustrated that he thought the worst of her.

I love him!

“Donnor, I need you,” she called out.

There was no way to treat the dwarf’s wounds with needle and thread. He would need healing, or he would die.

Gods, what if the others saw?

She glanced back at the villagers fearfully. Would they throw her out of the boat? Would they curse her? See her working her Tol as a horror from the ancient war? Kill her for her gifts? Burn her as she’d heard the humans had done in ancient times?

She only knew that she had to save him; her past friend, the friend of her ilari, the uncle to their son. Donnor cut away Mikus’s shirt so she could place her hands on the wound, knowing what needed to be done, all the while using his frame to shield her from view.

She gritted her teeth and began calling her Tol; her pathways seizing anew with pain and agony. She forced herself through it, determined to heal her ilari’s friend. But as he pressed against her side to block the others view, that simple contact sent a cascade of soothing warmth through her once again. Her power flowed through her as if the masters were there at her side.

The bond!

She recognized the soothing feeling from their vows; the ilari bond she’d only begun to explore.

It’s the bond!

Her hands surged with power, illuminated with the greens and golds of her Tol. She heard a gasp from the stern as she pulled the arrow from Mikus’s chest, but didn’t spare a single glance to see who it was. She thrust her Tol into Mikus’s body, trusting Donnor to shield her as she pushed herself into the parts surrounding Mikus’s wound and asked his body to grow and heal.

Blood poured over her hands giving her Tol a deep, reddish hue as she pressed both hands over the wound while she worked. The wound closed rapidly, his body responding to her call as the bloody flow quickly diminished, before ending altogether only a few moments later.

She kept up her working until the skin was unmarked, as she’d been taught and done hundreds of times over the years. The only difference in the working this time being the warmth of the bond flowing through her, overriding whatever was causing the sizzling and crackling pain surging along her pathways.

Donnor moved away, reaching out to his friend, and the pain surged anew with the lack of contact. Mikus was thanking her as she realized in shock that it must be her binding, that pain. The bond, somehow, some way, fighting it, all on its own with simply a touch.

She stared blankly at Mikus and Donnor, stunned, realizing they’d never touched skin to skin before today; not once over the entire last year.

Mikus grunted, bringing her back from her thoughts, catching Donnor looking intently back the way they’d come. And following his gaze, her eyes landed on Tommy at the tiller.

Staring.

At her.

His eyes wide with shock.

And fear.

She froze.

No! He saw! I can’t lose him too!

Mikus was talking, and his words dragged her back. “Somethin’ needs ta’ be said ta’ tha’ boy, Donnor. It’s soon time it must be comin’ out. Ya canna’ hide him from it forever.”

Oh gods, Ilari, he doesn’t even know who I am? And now he’s seen that! And afraid? Are you so angry with me that you haven’t even told him he’s our son?

She forced her eyes away, sucking in a sob and darting to the side of the boat. She thrust her hands into the lake, vigorously scrubbing off the blood, barely aware of what she was doing. Tears fell from her eyes in a waterfall of pain as she fought breaking down entirely. She felt the pain from washing her hands so roughly, but paid it no mind.

By all that’s life, Ilari, do you hate me so much? He doesn’t know? He doesn’t know who I am?

She moved to the front of the boat, desperate to distract herself, feeling Donnor’s eyes on her as he stayed behind.

Watching.

Dira had passed out somewhere during all that had gone on and Donnor had obviously finished sewing her wound; the bleeding finished, the stitching neat. Her boy was curled into her side, pale and scared. Ari put a hand on him.

“She'll be all right. She’s tired Faltor, and needs to sleep to get better. But she’ll get better faster if you’re with her. Can you snuggle her and keep her warm?”

The boy nodded, looking up at her innocently, curling up into Dira’s arms, pulling one over him and laying his head against her chest. Ari looked down at them both, placing a hand on each of them as she forced a smile to her face. The boy looked up and visibly relaxed, giving her a cautious smile, his jaw quivering, bravely trying to be strong.

She patted and kissed his head, before moving to check on the two farmers, refusing to look back and see the fear again in her son’s eyes. The two farmers turned when she touched them, both nodding in thanks for her unspoken concern. Mr. Geller looked as if he wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing.

“We’ll ...” Mr. Geller’s voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat. “We’ll be fine, m’lady.” He was rubbing his knees, suffering from old age. He looked lost, staring at his legs as if he’d find the answer he was searching for there. She grabbed the net and balled it up for his back, helping him lean against it and get as comfortable as he could.

Mr. Silvertongue was silent, an unusual thing for the man who always had something kind to say. She noticed a bruise forming on his head as he met her eyes, before gently patting her knee then staring blankly off towards shore. She squeezed his shoulder before turning away, leaving him in peace.

Sella was sitting, watching behind them, looking dead if not for the rise and fall of her chest. Arisaylia knelt and hugged her; Sella choking in a sob. Ari squeezed harder, forcing her concern into her arms as Sella tentatively hugged her back before grabbing onto her so hard as if to say the hug was all that was holding her together.

Sella sobbed, her soft high-pitched keening barely audible even to an elves’ ears as she panted her fear and sorrow into her shoulder. Ari’s dress was soaked by the warm sticky wetness of the barmaid's tears, and she held her, comforting her, as she cried.

The image of her collapsing house slammed into Arisaylia’s mind once again as the two women held each other. Sella letting go of her grief, sobbing into her shoulder, her chest heaving as she let her emotions go. Arisaylia struggling with her own devastation, refusing to let her feelings consume her.

She repeatedly sucked in shaky breaths, fighting against the sobs as she thought about Di’ii. The innocence that was her little girl. The purity of the short life she’d had.

She would be strong. She would not abandon Donnor to be the only one to stay strong for them all. She would be there if her ilari needed her.

Sella eventually cried herself out, pulling back, staring long into Ari’s eyes. She took hold of both of her shoulders and whispered a quiet “thank you” before wiping away her tears. Ari squeezed Sella’s shoulder in return, and the woman nodded, ducking her head before turning away to look off again into the distance.

“Ahh, me’ Bekka! Me’ boy!” Mikus bawled out from behind her.

Everyone turned their heads in shock as Sella rushed to his side. She grabbed ahold of him and pressed his head into her bosom, wrapping herself around the dwarf to hold him as he cried. His heaving sobs overrode all other sound as he allowed his grief to consume him, oblivious to Sella’s gentle cooing.

Arisaylia stared at him, emotionally numb as the crackling and sizzling in her pathways dulled to a dim throb. He was chanting a dirge to his dead wife and son from what she could make out of the random bits of dwarvish that passed his lips.

Bekka! Dawd! She felt new tears form and roll down her face. Mikus! I’m so sorry!

Rivers of tears poured from her eyes as she turned and looked towards her son.

Tomilanthus! What are you going through right now? What kind of pain are you in? What are you feeling? I’m here! What do you think of me? I want to hold you so badly, but you are afraid. Will you speak to me? Please don’t be afraid of me. Please!

Ilari, I’m so afraid …

Arisaylia looked at him, catching Donnor watching her again. His tanned face haggard; his deep brown eyes staring into hers. The golden hue that she’d always seen in them shining through like a sun, deep within their depths. A look of vulnerability, devastation, and desperation warring with a determination that radiated from him in an almost physical wave.

Gods, Ilari, how can you be so strong? I need you. I want you! Why won’t you talk to me?

They wouldn’t let me go, beloved. It’s been so long. Is that why you won’t talk to me? I couldn’t get free!

What happened to you, Ilari? How did you end up here?

Your wife! What are you going to do about your wife? Where is Yella? Where is she, beloved?

Tomilanthus is here. He’s our son, Donnor! Why won’t you talk to me? Do you hate me? Why won’t you talk to me? Please! Talk to me!

I love you!

Arisaylia gazed into Donnor’s eyes as new tears fell, fighting the inner turmoil and the pain in her pathways. She longed for him. Hoping against hope for him to talk to her, to comfort her, to give her what she’d come hundreds of leagues to find.

All the while desperately trying to ignore the accusing and fearful gaze of their son.

Rest and Remembrances

“Tommy, get some rest,” Donnor said while stretching as he moved back into the aft of the boat. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’ve been a wonder.”

The sun had set, progressing into twilight. Mr. Geller and Mr. Silvertongue were in the bow watching the sky, talking softly to each other. The two weather-beaten farmers had escaping battered and bruised but without severe injury. Dira had succumbed to exhaustion after her head had been sewn and slept with her son on the net. Arisaylia was by the mast talking softly with Sella, who still held an exhausted Mikus to her chest.

No one would mention to the proud dwarf that he’d cried himself to sleep.

“Da’, what’s going on?” Tommy asked, nodding towards the front of the boat

“We’re going to Redtail Hold, son.”

“No, I mean with Ari.”

“Oh.”

Donnor kept his hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he sat down beside him. Rubbing the developing scruff on his chin while gathering his thoughts, he looked off into the distance over the Serensea. Then he caught himself absently staring at Ari.

Where are you Yella?

He could see Tommy watching him out of the corner of his eye before his son turned to look ahead, his hands making small adjustments to their course as time passed by. Tommy hissed as he gripped the tiller, dipping his raw hands into the water periodically, cooling the rope burns he’d received during their escape.

Tommy lowered his voice so it could barely be heard. “Her hands, they glowed. I saw it. Mr. Gemhands stopped bleeding after she touched him. I saw it. That’s magic,” he hissed, shooting a quick glance towards the others. “I know it.”

“There’s a lot about Ari you don’t know, son. A lot of things.” He paused. “And some of the things you think you know are wrong.”

He stared off towards the others in the front of the boat where Mr. Geller was rubbing his arms. Ari and Sella looked like they were huddling together for warmth, and Donnor quickly looked away when she noticed him watching her again.

Why am I always watching her?

“The things you're asking about are best not said where other ears can hear.” He nodded towards the others in the bow. “Can you wait for me to tell you? I’ll tell you; I promise.”

Tommy considered him for a moment. “Aye, I can wait. After what I saw, I can wait till the end of time for you to tell me.”

Donnor grunted and smirked. “Good. Get some sleep. Depending on how far we get through the night will depend on how much I’ll need your help tomorrow.”

“You’re going to sail through the night? You always told me it’s too dangerous to sail at night.”

“I did. You’re right, and it still is. But we must bring word to Redtail as fast as possible. And, we have to outrun the ondilaan. We can’t get caught out here with nothing but our belt knives.”

“Aye, Da’.”

“I’m proud of you, son.” He swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Your mother’d be proud too,” Donnor ended roughly, glancing away as he fought down his aching sorrow. They both sat in silence for a few moments, Donnor wiping his eyes with the back of his forearm.

“Where is she, Da’?” Tommy plaintively asked.

“I don’t know. She told me she was going into the forest to pick herbs and mushrooms this morning.” Donnor sighed. “As far as I know, she’s still there.”

“If she’s still there, we should go back for her! What’ll happen if she comes back and the ondilaan are still in the village? They’ll kill her if she goes back! We have to save her!

“We can put in at the cove where you taught me to fish,” Tommy declared. “It's not too far from where Mum gets her mushrooms, and right at the edge of the forest! We have the boat poles. We can fight if we have to! They'll never even know we were there. I'll kill them if I have to! I will!”

Tommy’s angry, panicked thoughts returned to his last glimpse of the village. A huge ondilaani warrior standing on the shore, staring after their boat. Yellow, predatory eyes glared at them from its scarred face while blood dripped from its gaping jaws. Its hackles raised on its thick spotted neck, calling out with that strange haunting whooOOP that rose in pitch from low to high as it was uttered. It pumped its huge double-bladed axe above its head in one arm as they sailed away, repeating its calls.

Tommy shuddered, remembering the horrific vision superimposed on the roaring inferno of their village they’d left behind.

Donnor put his hand on his son’s shoulder causing Tommy to turn to meet his gaze. “We can’t. Not now, son. Not now. Calm down, son. We can’t help her right now. We can’t. And your mother’d butcher me alive if I put you in danger by taking you back there.

“We’ll go to the Hold and find some safety there. I’ve heard the lord there is an honorable man. I’m hoping he’ll send a patrol. The ondilaan never stay in one place for long, so there’s a chance they’ve already left.”

"If they’ve already left, we have to go back!"

"We can't. We just can't. What if they haven't? Then we, along with all these people, will probably die too.” Donnor waved towards everyone in the boat. “The ondilaan are hunters, and they excel at it, almost silent when they want to be. With only ourselves, and without any real weapons, it'd be suicide. In the forest, we'd never know they were there until it was too late.”

“How do you know that?”

“I wasn’t always a fisherman, son.”

Tommy studied him. “A story for another time?”

“Aye Tommy, a story for another time. I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Gods, how am I going to tell him? he thought, quickly looking away.

“Go. Get some rest, Tommy. See if there’s any spare sailcloth in the bow stores; I forgot about it till now. If there is, try and convince everyone to use it as a blanket. It’ll be cold tonight on the water, and everyone is still damp.”

“Aye, Da’.”

“Send Ari to me also,” Donnor continued, catching himself watching her again. “I’ll need her elven eyes to guide the boat through the night.”

“Aye.”

“And, Tommy?” He waited until Tommy met his eyes.

“Yes, Da’?”

“I love you, boy. You made me very proud today. Now, off with you.”

“I love you too,” Tommy said with a tired smile as he got up and moved to the front of the boat.

Donnor watched him go, a mixture of feelings churning inside of him.

Yella, you’d be so proud.

His boy was a wonder, and his heart was bursting with pride. Not an ounce of panic, even with the destruction of the village happening all around him. He missed his mum and cried rightly for her, but did not break down. He was exhausted, but still did his task until relieved.

He’s probably hungry just like the rest of us, but hasn’t complained. Not even once.

Eighteen years old, and he was performing better than some of Donnor’s fellow adventurers had in this realm. And, the boy didn’t even know who he really was.

Oh gods, how am I going to tell him that tale ...

He watched Tommy talking to the villagers, then Ari, before moving to break out the spare sailcloth.

Where are you, Yella?

Arisaylia hugged Sella after Tommy spoke with her, then glided to the back of the boat. Her green eyes met Donnor’s with that enchanting sparkle he’d always seen in them, only slightly diminished by the dwindling light. She sat down gracefully beside him, her svelte figure barely separated from his own; his skin tingling as it always did whenever she was this close.

Donnor hadn’t been this close to her since living in the Vale. The insatiable longing he’d had for her surged through him once more, and he fought down his aching need with the desperate determination he’d learned over the last year she’d spent in the village. It had been hell hiding his feelings for her, almost buried, then suddenly reawakened with her unexpected arrival.

Especially with Yella watching. Why didn’t I tell Tommy?

“I’m sorry about Di’ii,” he said.

She nodded, taking in a small hiccup of air before dropping her gaze. Her eyes welled, then tears slowly started tracking down her cheeks once more.

His heart broke anew as he watched the tears cascade down her face, damning himself for hurting her. She sat there, quietly crying, staring off at everything and nothing for many long moments as he watched from the corner of his eye. He was determined not to reach out to her, to comfort her.

No matter how much he longed to.

She eventually quieted, and after a long and shaky indrawn breath she said, “Thank you.” She took another moment to wipe her tears and rearrange herself before looking up and meeting his eyes. “Yella?”

“In the forest. I don’t know.”

Ari reached out as if to place her hand on his knee, before hesitantly returning it to her lap. She twisted her hands there, fidgeting; something so out of place for her it was shocking.

He refused to react.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He shrugged, not allowing himself to feel. He could see her staring at him from the corner of his eye. He wouldn't look.

He would not.

Gods, Yella.

“How can I help, Donnor?” she asked after a moment as she tucked an errant strand of her crimson hair behind one delicate ear. The warmth of her voice sent shivers down his spine.

“Do you see the shore? To our port … err, our left …” He took a deep breath before continuing, “you should be able to see the shore slowly getting further away. We’re angling to pass Rocky Point in a moment, which juts out into the lake. I need your eyes, so we don’t run aground.”

She glanced off towards shore, then returned to watching him; studying him.

“Uhhh … we’ll pass Rocky Point sometime after night falls, and then we’ll have to avoid the other rocks around it. After that, there're some small islands we must avoid on our way to Redtail,” Donnor finished awkwardly.

They sat for a time, both uncomfortable in the silence before she said, “I remember what ‘port’ means. I remember our time on the Awyrllyn.”

“That was long ago, Arisaylia,” he murmured, memories flashing to their times together on that beautiful mountain lake in the Vale.

“Not to an elf, Ilari …” she said softly, switching to elvish and naming their bond in her musical tongue.

“That was a long time ago, Nisa Saliantrea. A long time, at least for me,” he replied with utter fluency, naming her ‘Lady Saliantrea’ in the tongue.

They sat silently for a time, his senses afire, remembering all that he’d shared with this beautiful woman. Their love, their dreams, the vows they’d made. The joy at being told he was going to be a father. The sudden silence, the separation, the agonizing descent into madness. Wondering, chaotically, what went wrong.

Being handed a newborn, being told Tommy’s name ... Tomilanthus ... before being immediately banished from the Vale. The attacks; constantly being pushed, further, and further away …

From her …

… His aching need ...

The bond conveyed his aching need without context as Arisaylia sat quietly, letting the father of her firstborn churn in his thoughts while struggling to understand what the bond was telling her. The pain in her pathways had ended hours ago but she was still afraid of testing it, afraid to reawaken the binding that had hurt her so much. She wondered what he was getting from the bond, pushing her love for him to the forefront for him to feel. But they had never had a chance to discuss it before she was so abruptly ripped away.

Ripped away …

… From him.

“A little to the right, Donnor,” she said after a while, again in elvish.

He grunted and adjusted his course until she directed him to stop. Her simple direction, and his response, so natural it reassured her to find there had been no change over the years.

He glanced at her a few times, holding his silence until finally asking, “What happened to you, Nisa Saliantrea?”

“What do you want to know, Ilari?” She noticed his slight flinch after naming the bond they shared. She forced herself not to react as she silently pleaded for him to talk to her.

They hadn’t spoken to each other except for frivolous pleasantries since she’d come to the village almost a year ago, despite their need. Ari had heard of the tremendous argument between him and his wife the day she’d arrived and given him his space. Afterward, his wife Yella watched them.

Closely.

Yella had been blatantly suspicious of her, not warming to her in the least no matter how she’d tried until after the birth of Di’ii. “An elven child, good,” she’d said under her breath during her birthing, giving voice to Yella’s suspicions.

How the woman could possibly have thought she and Donnor had trysted somehow before she’d even arrived in the area was beyond Ari. But humans were notoriously possessive and suspicious, especially where their mates were concerned.

“Were you well?” he strangled out.

“Well enough.”

The longing and heartache for him seeping from her eyes brought a look of pain across his handsome face. Donnor looked away, but she continued studying his profile, her thoughts drifting back to that miserable time.

Harsh words were exchanged the day she’d been marched from the mage college under close guard; confined to the family estate by her father’s order.

The discovery of her pregnancy before reaching maturity incited a terrible fury within her father, shocking to behold. He cursed her for her ‘stupidity’. Declaring her fancy with ‘that human’ beneath her, a blight on their family name. All protestations of love and belonging, a girlish fantasy doomed to failure. Their half-breed child, Nu’Surledyn, an aberration.

Unclean.

Arisaylia had barely spoken to her father since that day, her father did not understand. The affront, unforgivable. His reputation, profaned. He scornfully ordered her to abandon her mindless infatuation, keeping her confined to the estate as her pregnancy progressed until well after the birth of her son.

Almost, she had revealed ilari. But something told her allowing him to know of the swearing of those ancient vows would doom them both. Her father’s ironclad traditionalism was unprepared for another insult.

“I waited for you, Nisa Saliantrea. Almost a year,” Donnor uttered into the silence, the statement devoid of emotion.

“I didn’t know,” she replied, hurt by his use of her title.

Talk to me!

The explosive, passion-induced fury that filled her the day she finally learned of her father’s orders was terrifying to behold. Her father, after already taking her newborn son and giving him to her ilari, banished Donnor and their child from not only Sirikii, but from the Vale as well.

Coolly facing her down in the council chambers, her father was utterly unmoved as she raged at him for the banishment he’d ordered months before. The ancient destructive magics she’d been taught to use in defense of the Vale responded without thought to her anger at his indifference. Roiling around her in a pregnant miasma of destruction, they indiscriminately shattered objects nearby, manifesting the violence of her thoughts for all to see.

The calling of battle magic in his presence, the incoherent venting of her fury, the passionate demonstration of rage, frightened the other lords. Taken aback by her display, they desperately summoned the masters of the college to the council chambers as the argument progressed. And fearing she was unstable, they bound her.

“I was given our child then they threw me out. Nisa Saliantrea, you never said a word,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even.

“I couldn’t, Ilari.”

Anxiety flared through her at his continued use of her title, crushing her chest like a vice despite the slowly strengthening bond. The bond conveyed a whirlwind of emotions she listened to with all of her being. She was desperate to understand, but it was to no avail.

Talk to me! Talk to me, please!

Returned and confined to the estate under close guard, Ari was declared ‘overwrought’ and ‘unwell’, ‘needing time to rest’. Stories spread that a child had been lost, and her father campaigned aggressively against them: her not being of age too scandalous for him to admit that she’d born any child, let alone a half-elven one.

The scene in the council chambers was attributed to the magics she had been taught, decades before any of her peers. Her being ‘unable to cope’ with the pressures those workings required. Her Tol and her pathways overwhelmed; her mind distraught.

Masters, on the premise of helping her recover and heal, were kept always at hand. Ready at any moment for another outburst; sometimes needing two, or even three, to contain her wrath.

She railed against her father for his lies and her continued captivity, but it was no use. He was the family patriarch, and she had not yet reached maturity. His word was law in family matters as was the custom of the elves. And with her still being considered a child, it was ‘for her own good’. With no one to gainsay him, no one to appeal to, and already thought unstable by the other lords, she was forced to abide them.

“I gave you my heart and all I got was silence in return, Nisa Saliantrea,” he said, refusing to look at her.

“There was nothing I could do, Ilari.” Dismay pierced her. His formality, frightening.

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Nisa Saliantrea?” he asked after a pause. The bond throbbed sharply once with anguish.

“I wanted to,” she breathed, forcing everything he meant to her into the bond.

Why won’t he look at me? Where is the man I love?

The years of confinement to the Saliantrea family estate wore down her resolve to wait for her ilari and their son. Her loneliness, eroded by the constant chattering of her father's ladies and her maids. Her will, chipped away at by the constant parade of hopeful suitors presented by her father. Her broken, bleeding heart, scabbed over by the passage of time. Her magic, her Tol, bound by the masters into uselessness. She was provided with everything she needed; stuck in a gilded cage, never being free.

Arisaylia reached out to touch him, but Donnor flinched away. “Ilari?” she pleaded.

Years passed before she was finally allowed off the Saliantrea family estate, always accompanied by members of the family guard. Many more passed before that armed escort ended with her reaching maturity. Ultimately, she was introduced to a good elven man and realized she had a choice; a choice she abhorred. She could live her life in solitude, ever cloistered on the family estate, or accept her fate.

And move on.

“You are a mage, Nisa Saliantrea,” Donnor said into the silence

“So?”

Her reluctant agreement to be courted by one of the sons of Lord Farlesdar left her father overjoyed. The announcement of their courtship granting her return to the college and freedom to heal. She buried herself in her studies, desperate for distraction, finding solace in her magic despite the restrictions. The later announcement of their betrothal, a resumption of lessons and access to the archives. Only able to practice and perform workings under the watchful eyes of the masters; always three at hand whenever they released her binding to work.

But no matter what she did, or how well she obeyed, she was still always escorted by one of the ‘ladies’ assigned by her father.

“Mages rule the Vale,” Donnor said. His emotionless tone, unnerving.

“So? So what?” Arisaylia’s confusion at this strange line of conversation only increased her anxiety. It frightened her.

This is not the man I love. Where are you, Ilari?

The night of the ball announcing their betrothal, and after entirely too much fey wine, she’d lain with Alaris Farlesdar and awoke thinking she lay with Donnor. A shock of remembrance had rocked her to her core when it was not Donnor’s face she’d rolled over to. And that shock was quickly compounded by another, as her pregnancy with Di’ii was the result.

“Nisa Saliantrea, even in college you could have done whatever you wanted. Any mage could.”

“They wouldn’t let me,” she pleaded.

Alaris had been overjoyed, as pregnancies for the elves were few and far between with miscarriages common. And even if she did carry their child to term, elven children frequently succumbed to illness and disease; their young fragile bodies unable to cope with the magic of the elves coursing through them.

She tried to temper his enthusiasm with the reality her mother had taught her, the same reality all elven matrons taught their daughters. But talk that their child might never live to see the light of day was anathema, and he would have none of it.

“… Gone where you wanted. Seen who you wanted. Done what you wanted ...” Donnor’s anger throbbed through the bond with every statement he made. “… Only needing a guard …” His anger peaked as he stared hard into the wood at his feet. “… A guard … like me.”

She gasped, stunned by his accusation. “Ilari?”

What has happened to you, my love?

Before even the first season of her pregnancy had passed her by, Alaris announced their coming child to everyone, breaking all elven norms and traditions. Her father was ecstatic, spreading the news far and wide, paying no mind to her being pregnant before Alaris and she had wed. Surprised, she broached it with him. But her father brushed her off, saying a woman could do what a child could not when involved with a good, upstanding elven man. All the while sharing celebratory drinks as he and Lord Farlesdar looked on, smug with pride.

She had tried to be as happy as Alaris and her father were, graciously accepting gifts and congratulations. But even beyond her fears for her unborn child, her pregnancy was tinged with hidden regret. The idea of carrying another child within her brought her longing for their son and her banished beloved to new heights. And every gift she received rejuvenated her half-forgotten memories, reminding her of the torment she had endured all those years ago for her Donnor.

Her beloved.

Ilari.

“Why did you come, Nisa Saliantrea? Now, after all these years?” he eventually asked, breaking the desolate silence. Still not looking at her, his voice was tightly controlled as his jaw clenched and unclenched. The quickly returning emotionless tone of his voice scared her after his anger. She watched him narrow his eyes.

The bond was utterly devoid of warmth.

“Can you not guess?” she pleaded, as a single tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

As the months progressed on the estate, the changes to her body drew her thoughts to the son she’d never known; Tomilanthus. Her Donnor was a large man, fit and handsome, with brown hair and eyes, a strong jaw, and a constant tan from being outside. Has he grown large like a human, or lithe like an elf? she fantasized while wistfully wandering the grounds. As her belly grew, she wondered what color were his eyes? His hair? Was his voice quiet? Deep? As her breasts enlarged, she imagined him being gifted with magic like she was. Or, did he have other gifts from the strange man who was her beloved?

Pregnancies for elvish women were long affairs lasting over two years, and the constant wonderings consumed her.

“How, Nisa Saliantrea? We hardly know one another anymore.” The bond faintly conveyed defensiveness, heartache, and pain.

“After everything we’ve shared?” she implored, barely able to see through the tears. She was terrified by her title and the distance it set between them.

The day before she had escaped, she was with Alaris casually talking about their pasts. They’d been speaking of past mistakes when he turned to her saying he was so glad they’d been given the time to find each other. That she’d been absolutely wasted on that human she’d spent so much time with when she was younger.

He pointedly avoided the topic of her scandalous pregnancy she was sure he knew all about. Telling her that her father described it all as a girlish crush; a thoughtless mistake of her youth. Better that the human had run off in the end. Humans couldn’t be depended on for anything …

… they were only human after all.

“It’s been almost twenty years, Nisa Saliantrea. What we shared has long since gone by.” The muscles of his jaw clenched while he spoke, his eyes once again gone hard. The bond, throbbing with determination.

“How can you say that?” she gasped.

She had always wanted to find Donnor and Tomilanthus, something she never spoke of anymore. And that desire, like all the rest, had been worn down over time. But Alaris’s comment, so innocent, so biased, and so wrong, struck her faded memories and the maternal instincts surging through her body like a lightning bolt. Repressed fury at her captivity and the forced separation from her ilari exploded through her. That blast burned away the ropes of propriety that enslaved her, ripping off the scabs that smothered her feelings that had withered over time.

She was barely able to see Donnor’s tear-blurred form in the night as he sat in silence, staring resolutely ahead; the bond pounding with his iron resolve.

“Why have you come, Nisa Saliantrea?”

“Ilari,” she whispered desperately, “I came for you.”

Her reawakening emotions had crashed over her all those years ago in a powerful, passionate wave. Afraid of Alaris in that moment she panicked, remembering how she had been bound. She struggled to outwardly remain calm, brutally crushing any reaction from showing itself on her face. And after gaining victory in that timeless moment, she simply paused, blinked, and returned to idle chatter.

But as she continued lightly engaging Alaris in conversation, molten fury erupted inside of her. She listened to her desires, hearing them clearly once again, and made a decision then and there. She would find her love and their son both, and be damned with propriety.

With her father smugly proud, and her escorts’ guard lowered since accepting her proper place in elven society, she was allowed a trip to the markets alone with only her maid. She hoped Falia, her maid since childhood, was all right after just abandoning her there in the market. But she did not regret her actions that day in the slightest. She had carefully planned ahead for her escape. Choosing to wear traveling clothes and taking a large amount of money, she quickly left the city before anyone was the wiser.

“What?” Donnor whispered after a pregnant moment of silence, shock vibrating through the bond. He slowly turned to look at her. “What did you say?” he breathed.

She barely heard him, the chaos of her remembrances swirling through her mind. Her anguish, an iron fist around her throat.

It had taken months of relentless searching, but using her wit, the money, threats of magic, and sometimes even her family name, she finally found him. Donnor. Living as a fisherman in the quaint village of Lakeside with their son.

Married.

That had been a rude surprise. An altogether devastating turn of events that ravaged her soul. She wallowed at first in self-pity, crying herself to sleep every night, much to the concern of Mistle, the old woman who had taken her in. Wondering if ‘they’ had won. If she’d lost her beloved for good; never to know true happiness again.

“You came for me?” Donnor closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, a blurry vision through her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me, Nisa Saliantrea.”

“Donnor, I will always want you,” she breathed, as tears poured down her face. “I will always love you,” she vowed, turning away, fighting the urge to sob.

But, as she slowly emerged from her devastation, she realized ilari remained unbroken. The ancient rite, the vows they’d sworn, the love they shared; the bond weakened, but there. And as her mind cleared, the insights that frayed connection provided allowed her to intuit Donnor was avoiding her. That something was tearing him apart inside, some inner turmoil.

The longing in his eyes a salve to her heart, the few times she caught him staring at her, thinking her unaware.

“Oh, gods!” he exclaimed, the intensity of his cry muffled in his hands. The bond quaking with torment and hope as Donnor took one shaking breath after another, each inhalation coming quicker than the last. His chest heaving through a tsunami of agony that broke against her in a violent release of emotions.

It had been better to just live and wait, and at least in Lakeside she was free. After all, he was there. So was their son. And so, was she.

Her pregnancy brought interest and energy back into the kind old woman's life and she repaid Mistle by helping her out, quickly taking over the position as the village seamstress from her. A simple step after years of boredom living on the family estate mindlessly sewing and stitching to pass the time. The villagers attributed any slips and odd mannerisms to her being an elf, instead of being from a lordly house.

Holding that position gave her legitimacy and time. Time to watch from afar, patiently waiting for her moment to come. After all, she had all the time in the world as an elf; hundreds of years before she would die.

Ari could not begrudge her ilari his time with his wife. Yella loved him openly, and she could not. And she hoped they spent many years together; years of love and fulfillment. The mysterious man who was her ilari would outlive his human wife by an age, after all.

And then, maybe, just maybe, she could rekindle their fire once again when he was free.

Donnor shook ever so slightly, rocking back and forth. He took one quick breath after another, gradually slowing over endless moments, before coming to one final, exhausted, quavering sigh.

“Forgive me.”

Dropping the dreaded ‘Nisa Saliantrea’, Donnor gently turned her face towards him with a single finger to her chin. The hardness in his eyes was now absent as he haggardly met her gaze. He looked drained and exhausted; the bond shockingly calm after what she’d experienced.

“I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” he said as he wiped the tears from her cheek with a tender caress of his finger, his voice quiet and gentle. Absently studying the tears, a tranquil wave of emotion washed against her through the bond before he looked away.

“No, Ilari,” she said before the silence could return. “We are both victims.” Her face softened as she looked at him. “You caused nothing.” Hope flared through her as she felt his strange determination withering since he’d touched her.

“I caused your pregnancy.” He turned back, drained and uncomfortable around this woman who'd meant the world to him so long ago.

Arisaylia chuckled, looking surprised at herself for her reaction. The musical sound of her quiet laughter softly caressing his awareness as it washed over him. His determination not to let her affect him, failing. His care at his failure, slipping. His hope, returning.

“I somehow doubt the passions of our many joining’s was your fault, and yours alone, Ilari.”

A glimmer of that flirtatious smile he’d known so well, shone deep from within her eyes. The wetness from her tears did not detract from her allure in the slightest.

He blushed, knowing it was easily seen by her in the deepening dusk. “That may be. But so much has happened since then, Arisaylia.”

“Not so much that cannot be overcome,” she quickly said, placing her hand on his thigh. The intensity of her statement reinforced his hope.

“I am not who I once was.”

“And neither am I. But we are here, now, together,” her gentle statement softening her face even more.

“What we once had …” he trailed off.

She silenced him with a finger to his lips, a bewildering sensation pulsing through him with the touch of her finger.

“Ilari ... What we once had will always be.”

His body throbbed three times in quick succession as her final words echoed strangely inside his mind. And with that final statement, the last vestiges of his determination to resist her faded away like smoke on the wind. The love shining from her eyes blinded him in the darkness.

“I’m married, Arisaylia Saliantrea …” he struggled out as her scent filled his nose. Their lips were close together, fanning the flames of his desire even more.

“... And I am betrothed, Ilari.” His head reared back. “But this changes nothing in the here and now. I have not pushed or spoken of this because of Yella’s obvious issue, but she is not here, and I will not lose my chance again. Tell me you have no feelings for me.” She leaned in, closing the distance between them once more. “Tell me there is nothing there anymore. Tell me you have no care, Ilari, and I will leave you be.”

Donnor stared into her sparkling green eyes, losing himself in their depths. He struggled for control, bewitched by her beauty, remembering all that she was and all that they’d shared between them. The throbbing he’d experienced just moments before returning softly, pulsing in time with his heart.

They hadn’t moved on the bench, and long moments passed without a sound as they gazed into each other's eyes; close, almost touching. Only their thoughts standing between them anymore.

“Ilari, nos tairi yandun ...” he eventually said into the silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“... yandun nos tairi, Ilari,” she whispered breathlessly in return.

The vows they’d once made years before, repeated here and now in the darkness, echoed strangely over the water. Their words shattered the night with a sound felt, but not heard. The boat rocked softly as a shockwave silently exploded from them in an ever-expanding ring across the surface of the Serensea. But enraptured in their reunion, they paid it no heed.

Heard in the common tongue, the words would be, “Beloved, I am yours forever … Forever I am yours, beloved,” and be thought of nothing more than sweet endearments. If there had been an elven listener, however, the final words of that ancient rite would be instantly recognized for what they truly were. One of the rarest and most precious rituals in all the elven lands that two people who loved one another could make.

A soul binding.

With the darkness now complete, Arisaylia laid her head gently against his shoulder and settled in more comfortably for what was sure to be a long night. Donnor looked down at her head, studying her. Then tentatively wrapped one arm around her, before firmly drawing her in close to his side.

They rested serenely against one another, inundated with memories as the warmth of their bodies chased away the cool night air. But the warmth they shared was a pale imitation to the roaring inferno flaring back into life inside of them.

Their growing contentment in each other's company, illuminated only by the light of the stars.

A New Day

Tommy awoke to the light of the morning sun, and at first didn’t remember where he was.

He stared peacefully up into the morning sky before catching the faint smell of blood and smoke on his clothes, then his chest tightened as the images of devastation from the day before suddenly filled his mind. Fighting the images away, he cleared his mind of the horror before wiping the tears from his eyes.

Sitting up, he realized he’d been sleeping between Mrs. Greentree and Sella. Sella mumbled in complaint, rolling over, as he’d inadvertently pulled the spare sailcloth off her and exposed her shoulder to the cool morning air.

Faltor turned from looking out over the water and nodded at Tommy, a haunted look in his eyes. Faltor was only nine, and Tommy didn’t know him very well. Working with his da’ during the day and messing around with his older friends after dinner didn’t include playing with the younger kids. But he put his hand on Faltor’s shoulder and squeezed it in sympathy, ignoring the pain from his burns. The younger boy seemed to take comfort in that simple touch and he turned back to staring blankly out over the Serensea towards the eastern mountains.

We must have passed the beginnings of the Sunset Peaks sometime in the night, Tommy realized as the gently rolling mountains could be seen in the distance, lit by the morning sun.

Mr. Geller was sitting with Mr. Silvertongue and Mr. Gemhands in the bow talking softly. Mr. Gemhands seemed to be feeling better this morning, and the three of them had obviously spent some time washing their clothing out in the water.

Tommy judged it to be well after sunrise, as the sun was shining down from high above and he felt bad that he’d slept in so late. He stretched out his arms causing his back to crack loudly from sleeping on the uncomfortable hull of the boat, padded only by their fishing net.

Standing up, he moved aft to where his da’ and Ari were sitting close together by the tiller. They were speaking softly together, seemingly quite content in each other's company; Donnor looking almost at peace and Ari’s face absent of tears. Ari chuckled at something his da’ said and the two fell silent as he approached.

Ari was smiling in welcome, but Tommy just couldn’t return it. An image of her glowing hands from the day before came to the forefront of his mind, and he admitted to himself that he was a little afraid of her. This new fear warred with how nice she’d always been, and the warring thoughts spun to the back of his mind as he got closer. He wondered what he was going to do while he waited for his da’ to tell him whatever it was about her he needed to know.

“Mornin’, Da’.”

“We were just talking about you. Did you rest well, Tommy?” Ari asked with a smile.

“Aye, ma’am. As well as can be, ma’am, considering the boat isn’t very comfortable,” he replied, guardedly.

“So formal today, Tommy?” Ari teased.

“Aye, ma’am,” Tommy replied, not sure what else to say as he glanced nervously down at her hands.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” she said softly, with a slight frown. “We must talk—”

“But not now. And maybe, not today,” Donnor interrupted, placing his hand on her knee. “Tommy, I need you to take the tiller so I can rest. I’m exhausted.” He looked at Ari. “I need his mind clear. He’s never piloted without me watching, but today he must.”

Ari frowned at this, pursing her lips, and nodded reluctantly.

It was obvious by the glimmer in her eye and the set of her shoulders that a conversation was coming. She looked just like Mum did when she wanted to scold him for something he’d done wrong, but wouldn’t because they were at someone else's house. Tommy’s chest tightened thinking about his mum as he waited for whatever she was going to say, but she held her peace.

“I’ll talk to you both later then. Perhaps I should rest also. Have a pleasant day, Tommy.” She gave them both a nod, then rose and moved gracefully forward and knelt beside Sella.

Tommy noticed dark circles under his da’s eyes as he stared after Ari. She rearranged a section of the net and then moved between Sella and the rail, laid down, and pulled the sailcloth over herself. His da’ had the slightest smile on his face as he watched her roll onto her side.

She must not be cold anymore rolling away from Sella. I wonder what they were talking about? Tommy thought as his da’ absently released control of the tiller to him.

They both watched her for a while in silence before his da’ sighed and turned his attention back to Tommy.

“We’ll arrive at Redtail Hold later today, Tommy. Sometime before the evening meal, I’m guessing. Last time I was there, there was a true pier; not a plank of wood like we used back home. You’ll see the Hold well before you see the pier, so wake me up when you see it, and I’ll guide us in. There should be guards there that’ll know what to do with us.”

“Aye, Da’. What is Redtail like?”

“Redtail Hold has always been more of a military outpost than anything Tommy, and the Hold itself has been around as long as anyone can remember. There are three stone towers close together, each one taller than the other, surrounded by a high wall. It’s set against the mountains to guard the pass there, and has done so for generations.”

“Does everyone live in the castle?”

“Well, it’s not a true castle like the stories you’ve heard back home. More of a bunch of people living around a fort where the guardsmen stay. There used to be some homes outside the wall, some businesses too. I don’t know how big it's gotten over the years, or if it's changed at all, but it’s still not a true town. There was some talk of building a warehouse many years ago, but who knows if it’s there or not.”

“Huh,” Tommy grunted, distracted as he tried to imagine it.

“Anyway, it sits on a small rise just off the shore of the lake and up against the Sunset Peaks. That’s why you can see it from so far away on the lake. The lord there guards this side of the pass for the crown, and the surrounding land for the farmers and fishermen who trade their wares in Tatdavarr.”

“Tatdavarr? The great city?” Tommy asked.

“Well, the city, at least. I’m not sure I’d call it great.” His da’ yawned, looked towards the people sleeping on the net, and obviously came to a decision. “I need to rest, Tommy. Hold this course; wake me up if you need me.”

Stifling another yawn, his da’ rose and walked forward, nodding to the other men. He hesitated for a moment as if debating where to lie down, and then moved to lie between Mrs. Greentree and Sella, giving Ari one last glance before quickly falling asleep.

Tommy watched his da’ curiously for a moment before he busied himself with the boat’s chores: making sure his lines were clear, and making everything fast.

The late morning sun was warm, and there was a nice breeze from the east that made holding their course easy. Every now and then he made some minor corrections to their course, tacking periodically as the wind changed. Their sail billowed full, and they even made a little white spray at one point, showing they were traveling at a good clip.

It would have been a gloriously perfect day to sail if it wasn’t for the horrors of the day before. And thoughts of the attack constantly returned to his mind.

Mrs. Greentree woke up sometime around midday while he was distracting himself from his thoughts by washing his tunic. She tried to sit up, but said she was still dizzy so laid back down to talk quietly with her boy as he told her about everything he saw around them. Faltor stayed close by her side, but the allure of the passing water caused him to stray from time to time as he dangled his hand in the lake.

Sella woke up many hours later and chatted with Mrs. Greentree for a while, before she came back to check on Tommy. They talked about inconsequential things before she gave him a hug, and returned to the bow to talk with the men.

He really didn’t need anything he realized, except maybe a chicken. Or a ham. Or one of those succulent steaks Mrs. Tuulhod made on holidays. With roasted potatoes. And bread, fresh bread. Oh, and butter too. Yes, that would do nicely, he thought as his stomach growled. Ugh, he griped, desperately trying to take his mind off of food as he made another minor correction to their course.

It was getting hotter, Tommy realized as he shaded his eyes and looked off into the distance. The sun was directly overhead with not a single cloud to be seen. At least the breeze helps a little, he thought as he took off his shirt.

They could drink from the Serensea if the heat got too bad, but it had a strange flavor to it. Mr. Gemhands had always said that the water tasted like iron. But then, Mr. Gemhands compared everything to things the dwarves knew about under the ground. So, Tommy didn’t think Mr. Gemhands really knew for sure.

He started to see sails in the distance in the early afternoon, but none of them approached. They looked similar to their boat from what he could make out; tall and triangular, but with a tiny flag on top of their masts. They were probably fishermen like his da’, he realized. Mr. Geller squinted off into the distance, seemingly studying them. So, Tommy wasn’t too worried about the boats and let his da’ sleep. It was strange Mr. Geller didn’t say anything about them though.

By midafternoon, Ari arose from her rest. It sure is strange she sleeps with her eyes half-open. He’d almost jumped out of his skin the first time he ‘caught her’ watching him through half-closed eyes over the last few hours. But this time she started blinking her eyes rapidly, then squeezed them tightly shut. Once her face relaxed, she opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows while raising her face towards the sun.

She held that pose for a moment before looking around. And on seeing him, she smiled and nodded before he could look away. Mum would’ve boxed his ears if he wasn’t polite, so he offered an uncomfortable smile in return. But he really needed to talk to his da’ about her.

Ari sat up and looked down at Donnor, placing a hand on his chest. She smiled softly at him while he slept, her scarlet hair hiding the smile from everyone but Tommy. She seemed to say something to him under her breath, causing his da’ to stir, but he quickly settled back down into slumber as she softly kissed her fingers and touched them ever so gently to his brow.

Tommy had no idea why she did that, but as his da’s slumber deepened, he relaxed. Must be some strange elven custom. He looked away before she noticed him watching her again. I hope it’s not more magic, he thought, keeping a close eye on her hands out of the corner of his eye.

Ari checked on Mrs. Greentree and chatted with her and Faltor for a while. Something must have upset Ari as Mrs. Greentree laid a hand on her knee while she watched Faltor playing in the water. Ari wiped her eyes and gave Mrs. Greentree’s hand a squeeze before moving towards the bow to speak with the others.

She gave another hug to Sella that the barmaid seemed to need badly. Then she helped her braid her hair after letting it down and combing it out with her fingers.

Mr. Gemhands watched Ari with Sella silently, barely speaking to her at first, but in time relaxed as she included him in their chatting. Eventually, Ari talked him into letting her wash out his beard. And with much complaining, she and Sella cleaned it as neatly as they could using the water from the lake.

There was much grumbling involved as the two women tried to braid his drying beard. But an agreement seemed to be reached to just tie it neatly with pieces of mending twine into a long tail. Mr. Silvertongue and Mr. Geller kept talking, watching, amused, as Ari and Sella fussed over Mr. Gemhands to the sounds of the dwarf’s complaints.

Eventually, with everyone now clean, they settled and started talking haltingly about the attack. He got a couple glances as they spoke, Faltor did too, and they did their best to lower their voices. But the boat was only about thirty feet long, so Tommy could hear everything they said.

They mostly talked about the other villagers: who they had seen, and where they had been during the attack. Who was in the village, and who was outside of it when the attack started. Whether certain people had probably survived or not. And then finally, who was dead.

That last bit was hard to hear, and dragged up the images he had been fighting down all day. But he could tell they were trying to keep their voices down so he didn’t say anything. Mum had always yelled at him for being nosy and minding other people's business, so he’d learned long ago to pretend he couldn’t hear. He did his best to ignore the pain of thinking about her again, refusing to let a single tear fall even as they talked about his mum and wondered where she was.

When the conversation moved on to talking about Redtail Hold, Ari moved back to sit with him. And he couldn’t help himself and tensed as she approached, still uncomfortable with what he’d seen.

Magic.

“Tommy, I don’t want you to be scared of me.” Her soft voice was filled with concern.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy replied feeling guilty, remembering how nice she’d always been.

She considered him for a moment. “You felt my working, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Beyond seeing the glow from my hands … when I healed Mikus, you felt a tingling on the skin. Like someone was barely touching the hairs on your arm and stroking them backward? That’s what drew your eyes to what I was doing during our escape, not the glow of my hands which you shouldn’t have been able to see,” she explained.

“Aye. That I felt.” He nodded.

“I thought so.” She smiled.

Tommy checked his course, uncomfortable, but trying not to look uncomfortable, and noticed a new sail off in the distance. It was too far to starboard by Tommy's reckoning to intercept them, so he put it out of his mind and continued watching ahead.

Ari took in his notice of it, and he noticed her noticing. She gave him a considering look. Opening her mouth to say something, he quickly asked, “Is it dangerous, that feeling, ma’am?” uncomfortable with the way she was watching him.

She paused. “So formal, Tommy,” she teased. “I thought we had agreed you could call me Ari when you held Di’ii that first time. I thought you wanted to.”

Tommy noticed the sadness peeked through in her eyes. “I’m very sorry, ma’am.”

She gave him a direct look.

“I’m very sorry, Ari,” he corrected.

“That’s better,” she said, as her eyes began to well. “It’s okay. We’ve all lost someone …” she trailed off, snuffling a little. “I was hoping the two of you would become close.”

It was awkward sitting there watching a tear fall from her eye. He wondered what he was supposed to say, or if he was supposed to say anything at all.

People had died before in the village, but they were all old, never a baby. The elders would talk, sometimes mentioning the lost gods if the person believed in the old tales. Their family would burn them on a pyre and cast their ashes into the Serensea, returning their life to the ‘sea which provided life to them all. The adults would go off to the tavern to drink and talk long into the night, but Tommy and the other kids had never been a part of that.

And now he was.

He tightened his grip on the tiller, the pain from his burn bringing his attention back to Ari.

“I would have been like a brother to her if you’d’ve let me. Di’ii that is. Everyone loved her.”

She searched his eyes before forcing a smile and putting her hand over his, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, Tommy. That means a great deal to me.”

His hand tingled where she held him and he looked down expecting his hairs to be standing on end, but they weren’t. It was a strange feeling, and seemed to move in a rhythmic motion back and forth where their hands were joined, even though both their hands were utterly still. He swore his hand was lying on warm water that was rising and falling like a wave, but nothing was there. He’d always gotten strange tingles, but he’d never felt anything like this before. And he studied his hand and hers intently, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You feel that, don’t you?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He cast a furtive glance in her direction at her question, catching her intense look. He looked back and forth between his hand and her eyes before he snapped his gaze back towards the bow. “Yes, ma’am.” Tommy nervously pulled his hand out from under hers.

“Hmmm. Sensitive, too,” she mused as she wiped the remains of a tear from her eye. “I wonder ...” she trailed off before continuing. “We’ll have much to talk about soon. But for now, I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that, ma’am?” She looked at him. “Ari.”

“We’ll work on that,” she said. “Give me back your hand.”

“Why?”

She just looked at him in silence until he relented and cautiously put his hand in hers.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tommy,” she said distractedly, turning his hand over to see the rope burns on his palm. “I bet that hurts.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“Well, let’s do something about it then,” Ari said as she placed her other hand over top of his, holding his injured hand between them.

The tingling he felt just moments before intensified and became hot, pulsing through his burn without hurting him. He could see the slightest glow leaking out from between their hands, but it could have been easily mistaken for a reflection off the water.

A strange sensation, similar to the tingling in his hand grew from somewhere inside of him, causing Ari to quickly look up from his hands. She studied him intently as the twin feelings diminished, then ended. He pulled his hand from hers and looked down to inspect it, finding it fully healed. Not a single sign of his previous wound was there to be seen.

He looked up at her in astonishment. “What did you do?”

“Magic,” she replied simply.

“What? How—”

“I have some questions for you first, Tommy,” she interrupted raising her hand. “Have you ever felt a tingling inside your body?”

“In one part or all over?” Tommy asked in surprise.

“Good, by your question, I take it you have?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever felt it move?”

How could she know about the tingles? he thought as he nodded.

“Have you ever tried to move it around yourself?”

“Yes ...”

How could she possibly know that? I’ve been trying to do that for years.

“Excellent. Have you ever succeeded?” Ari pressed.

“Succeeded in what?” He frowned, trying to stall while his mind spun frantically.

“Moving them around …” Her voice rose on the last word like Mum did when she was annoyed.

“Yes, ma’am. Ari. Just not very often.”

“Good. I want you to find your tingles and move them around from place to place, inside you. You might find your hands to be easiest, but move them all over. And don’t forget your head.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tommy’s eyes were the size of dinner plates.

Ari sighed and smiled. “We’ll work on that,” she mused while patting his hand. “Hello … Donnor,” she greeted his da’ with a smile as she turned her head.

Tommy hadn’t heard his da’ approach and was caught off guard. He wasn’t distracted enough not to notice her hesitation as she welcomed him, however.

I wonder what she was about to say?

“Hello, son, Ari,” he said with a smile of his own. “Is our lady here distracting you, Tommy?”

“No.” He paused as he glanced at Ari who was still smiling up at his da’. “We were talking about tingles …”

“Tingles?”

“Ummm … yes?” Tommy replied, unsure if he'd said something wrong.

“I think I’ll go make sure Mrs. Greentree is doing okay.” Ari smiled impishly at Donnor, then rose. “Dira said she was still a little dizzy earlier.” She moved back to the front of the boat.

Donnor looked at her, then Tommy, then back at her, and grunted. She seemed to hear and it made her glance back, smiling even more.

His da’ sighed, mumbled something under his breath, and sat. “Give me the tiller, Tommy. At least I can control the boat.”

Coming to Redtail

It was approaching sunset when Redtail Hold came far enough into view for them to see. At first, all that could be seen was what looked like a dark rectangle on the horizon against the mountains. But as they got closer, that dark rectangle evolved into the three towers his da’ had described.

The smallest of the towers was connected to the next largest by a delicate bridge that reached across the span between them. A deep blue pennant hung from the bridge, and small shapes could be seen flitting about as the pennant softly fluttered in the evening breeze. The largest tower was much thicker and stockier, framed behind the other two bringing to mind a great bear of a man standing behind his two younger children, holding hands.

The towers were situated so that all three formed a triangle with their placement. Each was oval in shape, with the thinner sides pointing towards and away from the Serensea.

What had initially appeared to be a squat base to the towers, became a high stone wall that surrounded them, topped with crenellations and small figures moving in pairs. And the whole magnificent fortress reflected the soft red light of the setting sun.

Everyone’s spirits rose with the sight, and to Tommy, it was as if an indomitable mountain of safety was there to behold. He’d never seen anything so grand and it was as if a story had come to life before his eyes. He half expected to see an army before its walls with a great king at its head.

That is a castle for a fairytale, he decided as a smile lit his face.

Old Mr. Hart and Mr. Silvertongue had always competed at storytelling at the village tavern, and their stories of kings and heroes sitting on golden thrones returned to his mind as the Hold came closer. Tommy used to love to sit and listen to their tales of far-off places and fantastic events. And some of the stories, he was told, might even have been true.

Slowly, the pier came into view. It sat the base of a stone wall that extended from the Hold down to the shoreline. A few fishing boats similar to theirs were tied up alongside, with their sails lowered and neatly wrapped; every one of them having the same deep blue flag atop their masts.

There was a massive structure at the base of the pier that Tommy figured was the warehouse his da’ had talked about. It was a huge wooden building, easily big enough to fit half the village inside of it, he thought. Multiple large doors could be seen, big enough to drive a cart straight through, and he wondered what was inside of it.

A dozen or so other buildings were at the base of the wall. Spread about in no particular order, they formed winding roads between them, all of which seemed to lead to the base of the Hold.

To Tommy, all of the buildings were fine and grand, with most having two or even three stories to them. These were not the rough thatch and timber cabins of the village, but finely crafted homes with hewn boards and tiled roofs.

Figures could now be seen moving between the buildings, but not slow and relaxed as Tommy was used to seeing people move in the village. These figures seemed rushed and in a hurry, almost eager to get inside and away from the oncoming night.

It slowly dawned on him that no one was just casually loitering around outside. He watched as one figure lit torches that lined the main path as fast as he could, while another ducked into a home, slamming the door behind him. Every boat was secured, every door shut, and every window was shuttered.

Two figures could be seen on the pier, and they seemed to be intently watching them approach. Another smaller figure started running quickly away towards the Hold, disappearing between the buildings.

Tommy noticed his da’ shoot Mr. Gemhands a look as they lost sight of the running figure, and Mr. Gemhands rolled his shoulders and moved towards the bow.

Faltor moved up to join Mr. Silvertongue and Mr. Geller chatting in the bow as they watched the Hold approaching in eager anticipation. Smiles of relief lit up their faces as the first sounds of Redtail Hold echoed faintly over the water. There were familiar sounds from the village, mixed in with a repetitive yelling, followed by many voices yelling together in return. The strange yelling and responses were somewhat muffled, and was coming from somewhere near the towers.

The sound of a blacksmith's hammer rang out beneath it all, rhythmically banging away at some unknown task. That’s strange. It’s awful late in the day to be at the forge, Tommy thought. Their village smith had always stopped well before sunset because it took so long to properly bank the coals of the forge for the night.

As they got closer, the two figures on the pier could be distinguished as guardsmen in armor with tall spears, standing ready, waiting for them to arrive. Tommy moved to the bow at his da’s direction, readying their boat to dock, stealing glances while he worked.

Sella was smiling and saying how good it would be to have a hot meal as she fussed with her blouse. The farmers agreed while Faltor asked if he could have some cakes with dinner. Mrs. Greentree sat up and steadied herself with a hand to the mast with Ari beside her in case her dizziness returned.

But Ari didn’t seem to have her heart in the smile on her face as she listened to Mrs. Greentree’s happy talk. Neither did Da’, he noticed, who was watching the approaching Hold and the guards intently. Mr. Gemhands was talking steadily with everyone, his tone casual and friendly. Yet Tommy noticed his hand was near his knife, and he kept it turned away from the guards so they could not see.

What’s going on? Tommy wondered.

“Hello, the pier!” Donnor called out, his voice easily crossing the remaining water.

“Hello, the boat. Who are you, and from where do you hail?” a guard replied.

Tommy was finally close enough to notice their armor, and it was just as impressive as he’d imagined: shining chain shirts and gleaming metal helms. There was what looked to be a shield peeking over their shoulders with its strap crossing diagonally over their chests. A deep blue tabard was worn, with a device on the right breast of a tower against a mountain that had a setting sun behind it. Each of them held a wooden spear, half again as tall as a man, topped by a shiny and broad leaf-shaped head. A belt, pouch, leather pants, and tall boots completed their impressive equipment.

“Villagers from Lakeside on the southern shore,” his da’ replied. “The nine of us escaped the destruction of our village by ondilaan raiders. We’ve been on the water since yesterday morning, and come seeking aid and shelter.”

“Lower your sail and hand us a pole, and we’ll help you in,” the guardsman called back, setting down his spear.

The other guard did not, however, and Tommy heard him say, “not another village …” under his breath. Ari stiffened at this but said nothing, as Mrs. Greentree continued happily chatting away, not having seemed to hear the comment.

Donnor tied the tiller fast and left it to lower the sail. Tommy reached out to the pier with a pole that the guard deftly caught, and used it to pull them alongside. As Tommy secured the bow and his da’ secured the stern, the guard reached down with a hand to hold the boat steady.

“I’m Guardsman Keris. Let’s get you tied up and off the boat,” the man said, smiling through his neatly trimmed beard. “Word’s been sent ahead, and someone should be here shortly.”

Tommy moved back to help his da’ secure the sail and the yard on its rest, while the other villagers got off the boat. They were mostly finished when he noticed a jingling sound that got louder as it approached. Tommy’s view was blocked by Ari, who was helping Mrs. Greentree up onto the dock, but as she moved aside the sound became four more guardsmen accompanying a large man jogging rapidly to the pier. Donnor offered Ari his hand and helped her onto the pier, then Tommy, and then he finally climbed up onto the pier himself.

“Report,” the approaching man called out in a booming voice.

“Villagers from the destruction of Lakeside, Commander,” Keris replied.

The commander slowed to a walk to continue his advance onto the pier as the guardsmen stopped at its base with his gesture. He was a tall man around the same height as his da’. But instead of a wiry strength from long hours of work fishing, this man’s chest was bulging with muscle, with strong shoulders, and powerful arms. A sword was sheathed at his waist, and another’s hilt peeked over the man's left shoulder, almost hidden by his curly brown hair that fell even with his jaw.

Tommy had never seen a sword before and inspected them intently, craning his neck to get a better view.

The man studied them for the short time it took to finish his approach, before declaring, “I am Watch Commander Arnet of the Redtail Guard. Who speaks for you?”

His piercing eyes seemed to miss nothing as they passed over Tommy, making him acutely uncomfortable. He continued looking around and met everyone's gaze.

Mr. Geller, Mr. Silvertongue, Faltor, Mrs. Greentree, and Sella all looked at each other, then turned to look at his da’ who seemed irritated but resigned to the fact that he was now 'in charge’.

However, Mr. Gemhands never even glanced towards his da’, and Tommy noticed that he had moved slightly in front of his da’ where he could stop someone approaching if he chose. He caught sight of one of the boat poles by his da’s elbow still standing up within easy reach, and wondered why it wasn’t stowed with the others in the stern.

Ari glanced at his da’ before placing her hand on Tommy’s arm and drawing him slightly back and to the side. What’s going on? Tommy wondered again as he became aware of that strange feeling from before radiating from Ari’s hand into his arm. But where it had felt like warm waves earlier in the day, it was hot and throbbing now.

“I guess I do sir, by the looks of it,” his da’ said affably, while looking around.

“Your name?” the commander demanded.

“Donnor, sir.”

“And you hail from the village of Lakeside?” Arnet continued.

“Yes, sir,” Donnor replied.

“And it is destroyed?” the commander challenged with a frown.

“Yes, sir. We were attacked yesterday, midmorning. We’ve been on the Serensea ever since, with no food or fresh water, just the water of the sea.”

“What size was the force? How many were lost?” Commander Arnet pressed.

Moving slightly and shifting her weight, Ari interrupted the commander as Arnet’s gaze was drawn to her. “Commander, is there somewhere we can go? The children are cold and have no food, and Mrs. Greentree is wounded and needs rest.”

She shivered slightly for effect. The breeze crossing the water stirred her hair as the light of the setting sun glimmered in her eyes. It seemed innocent enough, but Tommy could feel that strange sensation from her hand pulsing hotly in time with her words.

Commander Arnet looked blankly at her for a moment, then blinked. He glanced at Mr. Gemhands, who hadn’t moved or taken his eyes off the guardsmen, then returned his gaze back to Donnor.

“Of course, my apologies. You are not the only refugees here at this time. Let’s get some food into you and a place to rest, and then we can speak some more”.

“Hortan!” The commander turned his head and yelled, as Tommy heard Ari let out a barely audible sigh.

“Yessir!” A young man in leather armor, different from the other guardsmen, called from the shore.

“Run ahead to Sir Laigan. Tell him Lakeside is destroyed and I am taking nine survivors to the inn,” Arnet ordered.

“Yes, Commander,” Hortan replied and ran off towards the Hold.

“Follow me. I cannot promise you a feast, but there’s hot food and a warm fire for you at the inn.” He turned, leading them off the pier.

His da’ looked inquiringly at Ari, who nodded as they followed the commander past the warehouse and onto a well-traveled path. The four guardsmen that had arrived with the commander turned and followed, keeping pace behind them as they traveled.

“You are not the only refugees here right now, but you are from farthest afield. The inn is full at the moment, but a place will be found for you.”

“How many have been attacked?” Donnor asked.

“That is not for me to say,” the commander replied.

Mikus grunted and glanced towards his da’ as the path slowly turned into a gravel street between the buildings surrounding the walls of the Hold.

The muffled sounds of yelling and replies that Tommy had heard before, cleared into shouted calls and replies that drifted over the wall.

“READY!”

“UHHH!”

“BRACE!”

“AHHH!”

“STRIKE!”

“HUUH!”

On hearing this, Ari, Mikus, and Donnor, exchanged looks of concern, drawing some conclusion that seemed to disturb them all. Though everyone else ignored it, and continued their happy chatter as they walked along.

The commander stopped outside a door that had a painted sign beside it bearing an image of a cup in front of a smiling face. He rapped smartly on the door and then opened it, bringing a brightly lit room filled with people into view. The scent of food wafted out, and Tommy’s mouth watered as his stomach growled hungrily. They stepped inside, eagerly welcoming the warmth and the smells of food.

“Innkeeper!” Arnet called out into the busy room.

“Yes, Commander?” a woman's high-pitched voice replied as a head disappeared from behind the bar and then a short halfling appeared in front of them. The halfling woman stood just over four feet high, and was plump with rosy cheeks that were creased from laughter. She looked like someone who laughed a lot, and everyone immediately relaxed in response to her welcoming smile.

Tommy had never seen a halfling before, and rudely stared until Sella whacked him on the arm in irritation.

“More survivors, Daris. From Lakeside, this time. They’ll need food, warmth, drink, and I expect Sir Laigan might arrive shortly.”

“Yes, Commander,” the Innkeeper replied politely as the commander turned and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

“I’m Daris Sintletin, and welcome to the Happy Cup!” she greeted them brightly. “Come with me! Unris!” she yelled to someone in the busy room. "I need more chairs by the fire!"

Looking back to Tommy's group she smiled. “Come over here all of you. We’ll bring you some stew and get you a nice place to rest. Another group of refugees … oh, dear!" She frowned. "Unris! Stop flirting with that lass, and get me some chairs!”

She bustled their group through the crowd towards the fire, but it was surrounded by people enjoying its warmth. “Dear me,” she said with a huff and led them to two tables, unfortunately in the far corner and not near the fire at all. She turned, smiling, “You stay right here, and we’ll bring you some of the food the commander promised you.” She frowned, noticing they were still two chairs short.

“Unris! Bring me more chairs!”

Tommy finally caught sight of another halfling, a man this time, who scurried away from a lady patron and disappeared behind the bar.

Daris turned back towards their group from glaring at his retreating back, forcing a smile. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back with the food!” She hurried away. “Unris, if I have to beat the sense of the day into you, I will! Now where are those chairs?”

Everyone looked at each other then sat, except for his da’ and Mr. Gemhands who placed their backs to the wall, casually watching the room as they leaned against it. Their party was split between the tables so that Ari, Mr. Gemhands, Tommy, and his da’ were at the one in the corner, while the others sat right beside them.

The murmuring voices had diminished slightly as they had walked through the room, but the crowd's volume returned to full as they all sat. It was comforting being surrounded by people.

Tommy figured there were thirty or forty people of many races in the room, and they were receiving quite a few curious looks from the various patrons. And though there was no lack of talking, the crowd seemed somehow subdued.

“This does no’ give me much confidence, laddie …” Mr. Gemhands said quietly to Donnor.

“No, it certainly does not,” Ari replied, so only they could hear.

The Warehouse

The stew they’d been served by the bustling innkeeper was hot, but thin.

More broth than anything, barely any meat at all, Tommy thought while he ate.

A hard, dry loaf of bread was provided with the meal that needed to be dunked in the broth to be edible. Tommy was surprised, with the grandeur of this place, the food was something any of the village wives would have thrown out the window, scolding the cook all the while.

He didn’t complain though, nor did anyone else seeing as hungry as they were. But it was rough and unsatisfying fare, no matter how hot it was. He noticed no one else in the crowd refused their food either.

Eventually, their group started to intermingle with the other patrons after they’d eaten their fill. The people around them were mostly human, with some halflings, a few gnomes, and a scattering of sprites.

Tommy had seen a sprite once before that had traveled through the village a few years back, heading further south. So, the figures that reminded him of tiny elves with large eyes and long, pointed ears didn’t surprise him.

He studied the gnomes though, keeping a watchful eye on Sella in case she gave him another whack. They reminded him of skinnier halflings with bigger noses, and were roughly the same height too.

Two dwarves were sitting close together at the bar talking in their gravelly tongue, while Ari made the only elf.

Sella, in her element, quickly talked to the people nearby, trading gossip. She stayed in her seat at first, but was soon moving from table to table around them, happily chattering away. His mum had always said she was the only person she knew who could talk a dead person back to life, and he smiled with the thought.

The table beside them held a few other farmers, and Mr. Geller and Mr. Silvertongue eventually turned their chairs to talk with them. Their talk of wind, rain, and crops was so simple and benign it seemed out of place.

Ari moved over to the other table and spoke to Mrs. Greentree. She was holding her head and getting pale, and looked like she was having trouble with the noise. Ari brought her and Faltor back to their table saying, “Let’s sit together,” then helped Mrs. Greentree into a chair.

Faltor seemed nervous, sitting as close to his mum as he could while taking in all the people around them with wide eyes. Tommy agreed with his nervousness as there were about half as many people in this room as there were in the entire village of Lakeside.

Mr. Gemhands ambled over to the bar joining the two other dwarves there, and eventually waved his da’ over after speaking with them for a few moments. Tommy watched his da’ walk to the bar through the crowded room and started to notice things that seemed out of place.

The people in the inn were not dirty, but there were stains on their leggings and sweat marks on their shirts. There was no smell of being unwashed, but there was an underlying scent of too many people in a tight space for too long. Some of the patrons even had torn clothing that looked recently patched, while others had blatant holes.

That certainly doesn't fit with what this place should be, he thought while continuing to look around and finding other things that stood out.

Everyone here seemed to be drinking and the inn was filled to capacity, the servers busily moving to-and-fro with tankards of ale. It reminded Tommy of how busy the village tavern got during the harvest festival, when everyone packed into the tables piled high with food and drink. But with the amount of drinking going on around him, he was surprised no one seemed too far into their cups. And, it didn’t look like spirits were being served either.

That’s weird ...

Old man Hart used to drink spirits with Mr. Silvertongue and the other men in the village tavern every night back home. He added his medicine to it, drinking it quickly out of a tiny cup. Then they’d tell silly stories that the ale and spirits always seemed to bring on. But no silly stories were being told here this night, and the laughter he did hear seemed muted.

Mum used to yell at them all the time for that. He choked up a little, thinking about her again.

Sella was eventually invited to a table on the other side of the room and he watched her flirting with the young men there, using her smile to devastating effect.

Tommy thought she was pretty, but Dawd was the one who had always watched and chased her, trying to gain her attention. Not him. She flirted with everyone, even the old men, and that wasn’t something he liked.

The young men at the table certainly didn’t mind her attention, though. He watched one of them stop talking mid-sentence as she leaned over to say something with a glimmer in her eye and a playful smile. The young man stared into her cleavage and guiltily jumped when she called him out on it, much to the amusement of his friends.

“Mom, I’m tired,” Faltor said after a while, his exhaustion and full belly taking over. He curled closer into his mother's side on the chair. “I want to go to bed. Can we go now?”

“Go to sleep, Faltor, I’ll hold you,” Mrs. Greentree said, putting her arm around him. He snuggled in and promptly fell asleep, even with all of the noise in the inn.

Ari watched them both, then looked at Tommy with a funny look in her eye. “We’ll sit here with you both until we know more. Get some rest, Dira. You’re safe here for the moment.”

Mrs. Greentree nodded in appreciation, closed her eyes, and quickly joined her son resting in a light doze.

Tommy turned his attention back to the room and was eventually able to pick out words from the confusing din of conversation surrounding him. “... think anyone’s back there …”, “... that soldier said …”, “... thinking of heading east …”, “... I miss her ...”, “... I heard the village of …”, “... can always fish …”, “... packed in tight …” and other half-caught conversations filled the room.

Again, Tommy couldn’t help feeling that the people seemed subdued. He turned to Ari to ask about it and she nodded at him without saying a word. Almost as if she’d read his mind.

Donnor returned to the table and sat down. “We’re safe, but not completely.” He glanced towards Mrs. Greentree and her son dozing at the table. “There are people here from at least three other villages and all of them have been destroyed. From what the dwarves told us, they’d been traveling west to their clanhold and turned around because the road was choked with villagers telling tales of raiders in the south burning and killing everything in their path. There're close to two hundred refugees here packed into the inn, warehouse, and the houses. The lord has accepted conscripts—”

“Donnor of Lakeside?” a guardsman called out from the door and paused expectantly.

“Aye? That’s me.” His da’ raised his hand as the inn quieted.

“Gather your people. A place has been made for you.”

His da’ looked around and waved all of them out the door and back into the dwindling light.

Once they were all outside, the guardsman guided them back towards the pier and they entered a door in the side of the warehouse. They walked through a small office, passed another door, and then into the warehouse itself. There they discovered another mass of people, close to a hundred in all. With blankets spread on top of makeshift beds made out of straw and hay, on the hard, wooden floor.

The inside of the warehouse was lit by torchlight, which struggled to brighten the gloom with its flickering light. People watched them with tired eyes as the guard guided them towards the center of the room, where roughly a dozen or so empty spaces remained.

Entire families looked to be stuffed inside the huge room as they passed by, many with forlorn looks about them. Off to the side, Tommy noticed a group of women busily caring for many more children than they could have possibly birthed by themselves. And off in the far corner, lit by a single lantern, it looked like a small gnome was caring for the injured and the sick.

“Blankets are coming for you, and it’s all we can provide for comfort at the moment,” the guard said, bringing Tommy’s attention back from taking in the huge room and everyone in it. “There’s water in the barrels over there, and if you’re injured the healer can help you,” he said, pointing towards the gnome. “Please stay here and don’t wander about. There’s a guard by the door to the office if you have any questions, and he can point you towards the jakes. Someone will come for you in the morning to break your fast.”

Then he looked at Tommy’s da’ and said in a more official tone, “Donnor of Lakeside, you are wanted in the Hold to tell your tale. Come with me.”

Donnor frowned at this before sighing in acquiescence. “Aye, Guardsman. Lead on,” he said tiredly, motioning Tommy to stay before walking off with the guard.

“Well, let’s work to make this a bit more comfortable,” Ari said, watching Donnor and the guardsman walk away.

She and Sella began organizing the area to their liking, moving the straw into piles that they could lay comfortably on to rest. Thick wool blankets arrived while this was going on, carried by another young man dressed in leather armor. And after thanking him, they added the blankets to the straw to make their beds for the night.

Faltor wandered over to the other children while this was going on and played with them, their chatter adding some cheer to the place.

The healer, an older gnome who called himself Jader, checked on Mrs. Greentree and pronounced there was nothing further he could do before returning to his other patients. Ari looked towards the wounded on the far side of the warehouse more than once, with a torn look on her face. But every time her gaze lingered for too long, Mr. Gemhands would move into her view and shake his head. She didn’t look happy about it, but she didn’t move away from the group either.

Everyone else had laid down by this point and most were asleep, but Tommy couldn’t seem to settle down. He curled into his blankets knowing he needed to get some sleep, but his mind was churning with all the strange sights he’d seen today, and the strange place he found himself in. Redtail Hold spurred his imagination, and he wondered what was going to happen next as he turned restlessly from side to side.

“Tommy, come here,” Ari said after his fourth sigh, realizing there was no way he was going to be able to sleep. She put her thoughts of Di’ii aside as he sat down beside her on her blankets. “Have you been practicing your tingles?”

He looked at her in surprise. “No, ma’am. There’s been too much going on. The boat, the pier, the guards, the inn, and now here …”

“Which is all the time in the world to move that feeling around inside of you since you’ve been doing nothing else of note,” she replied. She laid one hand over his, and the warm waves of feeling returned with her grip. Noticing him studying their hands, she murmured something in elvish before saying, “Since we’re both awake and doing nothing else, why don’t we start now. Hmmm?”

“Uhhh, are you sure?” he asked, leaning back and unable to keep from staring at her hands.

“Tommy, there’s nothing here to be scared of. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking back and forth from her hands to her eyes.

Ari sighed. “Here, start where your hand touches mine.” She placed one of his hands between hers as she had done before. “We’ll try a simple exercise that will help you settle your thoughts. Close your eyes and try to relax. Good. Slowly breathe in and out and just keep trying to relax. Now bring the tingles, as you call them, to your hand. Feel the sensation slowly build, the pressure gradually increasing, till it starts to feel like ants crawling all over your hand. Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Tommy said quietly as he concentrated.

Pressure built in his hand, and surprisingly enough, it did feel like tiny things were crawling all over it. It wasn’t alarming, however, and the warm waves coming from Ari’s grip melded with the tingles in a way that seemed to compliment them.

“Excellent. Now let that feeling build and slowly spread through you. It will get stronger, but there is nothing to worry about. It’s just a feeling, nothing more. The elves call what you’re feeling Tol. Let it move on its own, wherever it wants to go for now. It should stop and start, move here and there in no particular way, until it fills you entirely,” she continued quietly.

He sat and felt it fill him as she described, his breathing slowing and deepening as she spoke. When the pressure filled him entirely, the tingles started flickering like fireflies winking in and out on a summer night. He let out a slow, relaxed sigh.

“Tell me what you feel, Tommy” Ari asked quietly.

“I feel the pressure like you said, all over, but the tingles come and go. It feels warm,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He heard Mr. Gemhands sit down beside them and wondered how he knew it was him. But that thought drifted away with the warm, relaxing sensation filling him. He’d felt this feeling before but never this powerfully, and figured it had something to do with the warm waves coming from her hand that made it so intense.

“Good, Tommy. Very good. Now see if you can bring your Tol forward when you want to.”

Her hand was becoming hot. Not uncomfortable, but noticeably so as the waves of sensation coming from it quickened in pace.

“Bring it to your hand holding mine, up that same arm, then the other arm and the other hand. Your chest, your back. One leg, one foot, then the other. Good. Very good, Tommy,” she said in a mesmerizing voice, as he moved the feeling around inside of him at her direction.

She murmured something to herself in elvish, then said, “now your head, Tommy. Let’s try your head.”

Tommy tried, but his Tol stopped at his neck and went no further. The rest of his body floated in a warm, rhythmic, feeling of potential. But above his neck, there was nothing but pressure.

“It’s stopped. I can only get as far as my neck,” he breathed, losing himself to the experience.

He’d been able to move his tingles around before, but never this easily, and it had never filled him so utterly as it did now. It felt like he was lying half asleep under the warm rays of the sun, immersed in a gloriously warm bath.

“Hmmm, I wonder if ... let’s try this.” Ari gently took hold of his other hand in hers; both their hands now being joined.

A sudden jolt of heat passed like lightning through his body from one hand to the other at this new connection. He gasped as a pulsating river of molten fire poured in, filling him up, then bursting above his neck in an eruption of sensation that inundated his mind. The shock of her touch passing through him awoke something deep inside, that responded with a scorching rhythm of its own. And as the two throbbing pyres of energy intertwined inside of him, drumming an expectant rhythm of intent and purpose, he lost himself. Senses afire, he was suddenly overwhelmed by this hidden potential.

“Aye, enou’ o’ tha’, lass,” Mr. Gemhands said, his accent noticeably thick as his rough hands grasped theirs and firmly pulled them apart.

Tommy’s eyes snapped open with the shock of their separation, catching the room returning to shadow as if a torch had suddenly flared and been doused. Tommy noticed he was breathing heavily, and the feeling of fire that had filled him quickly drained away. Ari’s eyes caught the light, almost as if they were lit by an inner glow that was also rapidly dwindling away.

“You are probably right, Mikus. Thank you,” she said, giving Tommy a searching gaze he didn’t understand. She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly with a look of satisfaction lighting her face.

“We dinna’ nee’ any attention anow,” Mikus said quietly as his voice lost some of its thickness. “Rest. I be watchin’ an’ waitin’ fer’ Donnor ta’ return.”

Ari nodded and motioned for Tommy to lie down; the warm, satisfied smile not leaving her face for an instant. He realized he was very tired, almost as if he’d worked hard for an entire day, as he rolled onto his side on top of his nest of hay to get more comfortable. Ari tucked the blanket gently over his shoulder as he snuggled into it with a yawn, leaving one hand gently on his shoulder and murmuring to herself under her breath.

As he drifted off to sleep, barely conscious of her musical voice, he remembered the green-gold glow within Ari’s eyes. The feelings of warmth he’d felt returned and filled him as he did so. And not one thought of alarm crossed his mind as he slowly faded away, contentedly dreaming of her glowing eyes.

An Unveiling

Donnor followed the guardsman through the warehouse in silence, his mind far away. It had been a lifetime ago when he’d last been to Redtail, and thinking about that last visit brought his thoughts to Arisaylia.

Again.

What are you doing, Donnor? Get her out of your head. You’re a married man. You need to get these people settled so you can go back and find her. By the gods, I hope you’re safe. Where are you, Yella?

He ached for his wife, wishing he could wrap her up in his arms and let Yella’s golden hair hide the world from him. The pale softness of Yella’s arms wrapped around him in his thoughts, and the ghostly scent of the flowers she kept braided in her hair crossed his nose.

He was constantly fighting his sorrow to stay strong for Tommy. Knowing that despite his doubts, he’d made the right choice to flee. He’d campaigned too long, and commanded too many battles, to fool himself into thinking there had been a single chance for him to find her during their escape. She was strong, knew the forest, and though not a warrior in the least, she knew enough to know when danger was nearby. He hoped she’d made her way to safety, the hollows and clearings where she harvested her herbs far from any path. It gave him hope.

But even as he worried about her, his thoughts kept coming back to Arisaylia’s haunting green eyes.

By the gods, I’ve missed her.

He stumbled, catching himself on the warehouse door as he realized his thoughts had returned to her once again.

Again!

He nodded to the guardsman in embarrassment, motioning that he was all right before they started walking again.

Why in the hells am I always thinking about her? You don’t even know if Yella’s dead.

The thought shocked him.

Gods, how can you even think that way? She’s barely been gone a day!

But his mind was drawn to their final ilari vows, exchanged once again after eighteen years in the silence of the night.

What the hell were you thinking? he asked himself while images and memories of Arisaylia spun together with Yella in his mind.

One in a forest glade, laughing as they recited archaic words from an ancient text. The sun shining through her scarlet hair as they made love under the warmth of the sun. The other on the shores of the Serensea in his formal best, Bekka holding his infant son in her arms. The village cheering while he kissed her, surrounded by her golden tresses.

There isn’t time for this! You’ve got nine people depending on you before you can go back and find her. The lord will have to send a patrol. Mikus will come and we can tag along, get our weapons and come back. Now that she’s here, Tommy can stay with her, then we can find somewhere to go …

… What’s wrong with you? Stop it! You are going to find Yella! The woman you’ve been married to for 15 years! Not Arisaylia! Yella!

But a tingling warmth spread through him with only the thought of her name. That strange feeling, seemingly awakened that night on the boat. Getting stronger …

… Every time he thought of her.

His thoughts spun out of control before fixating on Yella the morning of the attack. She’d worn her traveling clothes. The thick, rough linen protecting her from the thorns of some of the plants she harvested for her potions. She’d hugged him, pressing her entire length against him, then gave him a heated kiss with a smile. “I’ll be back before dinner, my love,” she’d said before spinning away, a twinkle in her eye and a teasing smile that promised an interesting night if he knew her at all.

Oh Yel’. Gods, I loved her.

It took a moment before he realized he’d just thought about Yella in the past. And as soon as that shock hit him, he heard Arisaylia’s voice hauntingly in his mind.

“... Ilari, I came for you ...”

He’d never heard Yella’s voice so clearly in his thoughts, and he struggled to push Arisaylia’s away. Donnor wrestled with his remembrances as he heard his voice from the night before.

“... Ilari, nos tairi yandun …”

His body throbbed in time with each word; the words he’d uttered that night over the Serensea. The same words he’d uttered all those years ago.

It scared him.

What is wrong with me? I love you, Yella. I’ve loved you for fifteen years! I’ve done all that you asked. I’m faithful, damn it. I’m faithful! To you!

But the words, ilari, tairi, yandun, pounded through his brain in a heady rhythm that beat against his soul.

Thoughts that he was betraying his wife burned in his conscience. But he realized that those shameful fires were fainter than they were just the day before. It only compounded his confusion.

He cried out plaintively in his mind: By the gods, why did I leave? And the agony of not knowing if he meant Lakeside or the Vale disturbed him.

Desperate to distract himself from his inner turmoil, he forced his mind's eye to the Hold’s defenses as they finished their walk up the street, and he realized the years had not been kind. The walls were still high, the battlements were still there, but he noticed chips in the rock with weeds and moss growing in the cracks between the fortress’s limestone blocks.

Kind of like my soul, my love, he thought with a sigh, before realizing he didn’t know which love he was referring to. For Tommy’s sake alone, stop it! Please!

Donnor had seen the wonder in his son’s eyes down at the pier, and he didn’t have the heart to point out the obvious signs of disrepair. Even the guards' equipment was worn, and that didn’t bode well for what appeared to be turning into a refugee town.

Mikus had certainly noticed the rust on the guardsman’s armor though, and done his best to contain his glower at the noticeable lack of maintenance by the guards. But Donnor, trapped in his restless thoughts, hadn’t said a word.

Gods, Tommy … What am I going to tell you?

As they passed through the gate, he noticed the ends of its thick wooden beams were splintered and soft. Iron hinges that opened the gate were freshly oiled, but the dull orange of rust shown from underneath. The portcullis was raised, but Donnor didn’t have much hope that it was in any better condition as he walked underneath its spiked foot.

Simple rustic torches where lamps had once been lined the tunnel through the wall that the gate guarded. They were belching forth black smoke, whose soot stained the wall.

At least the wall is thick, Donnor thought as they continued through the tunnel. As thick as your head, you lout.

Past the wall, the courtyard was filled with young men in leather armor, caring for their arms and armor by the light of a few fires. Some were laughing and joking with each other, obviously off duty, while others were intently sharpening their swords and spears.

They’re not the Redtail Guard by their equipment, and they’re too young to be mercenaries, Donnor thought. Too many to be an adventuring company … they must be the conscripts the dwarves told me about, he concluded. But, conscripted for what?

This question caused even more concern as they continued into the courtyard.

The three towers of Redtail shared a common base that was over two stories high, and the entrance to the Hold proper was on the second story, which was accessed by a steep, open stair. The stair was in the courtyard, and had a right hand turn in it to make it difficult for attackers to swing their weapons as they scaled it during an assault.

The first floor of the base was pierced by arrow slits, allowing fire into the courtyard without exposing the defenders. This would have been a very difficult, almost suicidal fortification to assault if the arrow slits had not been crumbling at the edges, and wide enough in places that some of the smaller races could easily pass through.

After climbing the worn stone stair, they came to the main entry. A thick ironwood door was recessed into the wall, its architrave the only aspect appearing in good repair as it was decorated and embossed. He read the runes surrounding the door with a grunt, the guardsmen on either side nodding in greeting to his escort as they passed by.

Then entering into the Hold itself, they continued into a carpeted entry that was obviously in better repair, while remaining worn. They passed into a large hall lit by candlelight and a low fire against one wall, with a central stair that split to left, right, and center from a landing at roughly half its height.

Donnor was led up the rightmost stair and into the second-highest tower. Then up three more levels, and finally the Guardsman waved him into a large office as he stopped to take up station outside the door. A large, thick fur rug covered the floor from some immense and strangely familiar animal, but Donnor was too tired to give it much thought.

He sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in front of an impressive desk, and watched the sunset give off its final light over the Serensea through the window behind it. He sighed, tiredly.

Not the situation I was hoping for.

The red and gold of the setting sun soothed his soul as he stared blankly out across the sea. The red in the sky, her hair. The blue of the water, her eyes. Ari and Yella.

Gods, what am I going to do? The strange feeling he’d felt just last night started to throb softly again within him.

I love you, Yella. You were everything I needed. We raised a son together, we have a family, we have each other. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I love you ... and you love me.

Where are you, Yel'? I need you ...

She’s here, Yel’. The mother of our son is here. You never wanted to talk about her, but she’s here and I can’t avoid her. I love her Yel’. I’ll never stop loving her ... You knew that. I’ll never stop loving her, but I’ll never stop loving you.

Gods ... Where are you Yella?

The murmur of deep voices came through the door behind him, interrupting his thoughts. It opened to admit Commander Arnet and another well-dressed, older man who was also vaguely familiar to Donnor. The older man had a weathered face with a firm jaw, and was obviously hale and hearty despite the iron-gray of his hair.

The two men stopped talking as they caught sight of him. The older man sitting at the desk in front of him, meeting Donnor’s gaze with his crystal-blue eyes. The commander moved to stand at his shoulder and seemed angry about something, but Donnor was too tired to give it much thought as he absently wondered who this new man was.

Both men studied Donnor for a time in silence before the older man asked in a strong voice, “Donnor of Lakeside?”

“Yes, sir?” Donnor replied.

“A fisherman?” he asked.

“Yes, Milord.”

“Most village fishermen don’t have the temerity to sit uninvited in a lord's office, Donnor of Lakeside …” the older man said, his voice trailing off with an eyebrow raised.

Damn!

Donnor cursed to himself and hurriedly rose, becoming instantly alert. “I’m sorry, Milord. I’m tired and forgot myself.” He bowed and lowered his gaze.

“I am no lord. Lord Maorilan is the lord of this hold,” the man said as he gazed on Donnor for a while longer in strained silence, letting the awkwardness of the moment build. After a while he seemed to come to some conclusion and relented, then began, “Tell me, Donnor of Lakeside, what happened in your village.”

“Yes, sir,” Donnor said, his shoulders relaxing as the tense moment was apparently over. “Yesterday, midmorning, the village was attacked from the south; possibly from the path to Torensdell. It began with fire to the homes; I’m assuming by arrow. There were roughly two score ondilaan in the village itself who seemed mostly concerned with slaughtering us all. None were spared that I could see. We escaped onto the boat, and they used archers to kill those swimming that we couldn’t save. There were some not in the village, my wife for one, but I have no knowledge of their fate. I assume none escaped,” he finished, strangling out the last bit.

The old man sat in silence for a time while Donnor recovered, then asked, “Arms?”

“Mostly axes and short swords, sir; beyond the archers which I did not observe.”

“Magic?” he asked.

“None that I saw,” Donnor replied as the door opened and closed behind him.

“Hmmm.” The old man considered this for a moment. “Your companions?”

“Other villagers, sir. Two farmers, a barmaid, seamstress, housewife, logger, two boys, and myself.” Donnor wondered who had entered the room since whoever it was had not come into view from behind him.

“The boys?”

“One, the son of the housewife has no skill or trade. The other, my son, also a fisherman.”

“Their age?”

“Nine and eighteen, sir.”

“It was reported your party is of mixed races?”

“Yes, sir. Our seamstress, an elf. The dwarf, our logger.”

“Hmmm,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “An interesting mix of races for an outlying village from around here, containing a dwarf and an elven maid ...”

“Sir?”

“The local dwarves keep to their clan hall in the hills, weeks to the west. The elves to their forests, far in the north. The sprites come and go as they please, as they’ve always done, but also keep to themselves and never settle in one place for long. Halflings and gnomes have settled with the humans here, as they have for an age, but the other races have not. And the villages become more insular and suspicious of other races the further you get from the Hold.

“Isn’t it strange that you would find both an elf and a dwarf in one of the furthest outlying villages knowing all of that, Donnor of Lakeside?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

What is driving this man’s strange line of questioning? Donnor glanced at Arnet, gaining no insight from his impassive face.

“That was also a very precise and complete report for a village fisherman, wouldn’t you say Arnet?” the old man asked, turning towards him with a slight smile.

Huh?

“Yes, sir. It almost reminds me of my reports. Or, the reports from one of my patrol leaders, sir,” Commander Arnet respectfully replied, watching Donnor intently.

Oh crap.

“Yes, yes it does …” the old man paused. “You know what it also reminds me of, Arnet? It reminds me of something from the time of our lord’s father. Do you know, I remember when I was a younger man another group passed through here? This group contained no elf, but it did have a dwarven family and a human man ...”

Oh no.

“... The dwarven woman was strangely caring for a human infant as well as her own, and the group had obviously been long on the road. They were looking for refuge, and were granted an audience with our lord’s father who agreed to shelter them and grant them a boon if they performed a task for him: to kill one of the beasts roaming the land during that time.”

Damn.

“Did your father speak of this, my Lord?” the old man asked, looking over Donnor’s shoulder to another man who stepped from behind Donnor and strode into view.

“Yes, he did, Sir Laigan,” the new man replied in a rich baritone. “He never told me why he entrusted that task to this man. But the man and his dwarven companion shortly left with a small company of the guard and some other adventurers, returning days later with over half the guard, and all of the adventurers, dead. They had the immense corpse of the beast that had terrorized the local countryside in tow, barely able to get it through the gate as I recall. I believe we’re standing on its pelt now,” he said absently, glancing down.

Damn, damn, damn.

“Shortly after they returned, the group left and I never saw them again. The men who survived the encounter with the beast told tales of a warrior who danced and spun in combat, wielding a broad-bladed spear which left silver trails in the air behind it as it struck. His companion was an armored dwarf of few words, who’s strength with an axe was only magnified by his steadiness in battle.

“The guardsmen said that the dwarf was the rock that enemies dashed themselves to pieces on, whilst the warrior was the storm that rose up to destroy them. A pretty piece of poetry for the men, and something that’s stuck in my mind ever since. But those men were not shy in admitting that every single one of them would be dead if not for those two; and they would follow them both into battle again without fear or question.

“After seeing the beast for what it was and hearing the tales of the survivors, the rest of the guard agreed that our lord was right to grant them any boon they’d asked for.”

Oh, damn it to the hells of the lost gods.

Donnor, resigned, sat back down heavily in the chair without thinking, not noticing the glint of satisfaction in Sir Laigan’s eyes.

“And the boon, my Lord?”

“To disappear, Sir Laigan … and that was it.”

“Who knew that the elves from far-off Sirikii would arrive weeks later from the Vale, inquiring about the group. Specifically asking about a human man and his infant son, in the company of a dwarven family who bore an uncanny resemblance to the warriors who’d helped slay the beast. They were especially intent on finding them, and were irritated to no end that my father denied having seen anyone by that description.

“My father had tasked me to take the guard who’d accompanied those warriors on patrol while the elves stayed, and upon the elves leaving had sworn our guardsmen to secrecy with a binding oath. I’d never known him to do anything like that before for anyone outside of king or family. And the elves returned every few years asking the same questions, even after my father's death,” the man who was obviously Lord Maorilan mused.

“And that man’s name, my Lord?” Sir Laigan asked, standing so that his lord could take his place at his desk.

“His name was Donnor Silverspear, Sir Laigan,” Lord Maorilan replied, as he took his seat at the desk, never once taking his gray eyes off of Donnor. “Tell me, Donnor ‘of Lakeside’, do you happen to know of this other man that bears the same name as your own? This Donnor Silverspear who my father helped, years ago? Who bears such an uncanny resemblance to you, it's as if that person from the past had suddenly been summoned before me not having aged a day? Can you tell me what happened to the infant child and the dwarven family that accompanied him? And, can you tell me why now, of all times, the elves of far-off Sirikii have returned; asking about not only this man, but an elven maiden of surpassing beauty that was reportedly last seen in this area?”

Donnor raised his head from his hands and looked at each of the three men staring back at him. He met the eyes of the lord, taking in his firm and unwavering gaze, and studied him in silence.

The lord’s evaluation of him in return was accentuated by his rich red coat, blond chin length hair, and simple golden circlet. Commander Arnet and Sir Laigan framed him, standing ready at either shoulder, awaiting his response.

Donnor sat enduring the silence, then sighed and rose, a guardsman shifting his weight from somewhere behind him. He rolled one shoulder, then the next, before mumbling “So it begins,” seemingly without realizing.

“I had hoped to avoid this, Lord Maorilan,” Donnor said as he braced himself for a coming fight.

“I’m sure you had, Donnor Silverspear, of Lakeside,” he replied, eyebrow quirking as Donnor tensed with his naming. “It seems we have much to discuss,” Lord Maorilan continued after a pause, when Donnor refused to deny who he was.

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“Then please, return to your seat, Silverspear,” Lord Maorilan said, waving his hand towards the chair. “Redtail may once again be in need of your services.”

The Hold

Tommy was shaken awake in the morning by Mr. Gemhands. “Come, lad, it be time ta’ break our fast.”

Tommy blinked as Mikus stood there making sure he was awake before moving off to wake the others. Tommy sighed before sitting up, blearily looking around as his mind started to function.

Sella was just sitting up as Mikus walked by and raised her arms above her head to stretch. There was a gasp as she arched her back to crack it, and she quickly turned, catching a young man staring at her with his mouth hanging open. She giggled as he blushed bright red, staring helplessly at her as she continued to stretch, a lazy smile forming on her face.

Tommy shook his head as the young man’s mother grabbed him by the ear and turned his head away, whispering fiercely to him while glaring nonstop at Sella. Enjoying the attention, Sella continued to stretch shamelessly; thrusting out her chest with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

The sounds of waking spread throughout the warehouse as people rose to begin their day. An infant cried and was quickly quieted by its mother’s breast, while another child whined that he wanted to stay in bed and was quietly scolded to get up. Someone to Tommy’s right stubbed their toe and complained with a loud “Ow!” While somewhere behind him, another person loudly passed gas to the complaints and chuckles of everyone around.

Tommy itched and scratched his side as the wool blanket he’d slept on had been nice and warm, but rough. The sounds of morning life continued as he looked around and noticed his da’ sitting on a crate nearby, his chin in his hand, staring off into space, and obviously deep in thought. Ari was watching him too, but didn’t disturb him as she readied herself for the day.

Mr. Geller was rubbing his knees which he’d always complained about. A man behind them offered them something from a small jar, telling Mr. Geller to rub whatever it was on his knees. Mr. Silvertongue handed it to him, then walked over to the guardsman at the door, asking him about the jakes.

Mrs. Greentree rose with a smile, happily informing Ari her dizziness seemed to be gone. She still had a huge knot on her head though, that was forming around the ugly wound they’d stitched in her scalp.

One of the nearby women offered her a brush to use, and Mrs. Greentree thanked her profusely. Then both Sella and Ari joined her in the morning hair brushing ritual all women seemed to find pleasure in. His da’ had teased Mum all the time about ‘getting ready’, which always led to her scolding him in return. Tommy’s chest tightened with the memory, and he forced his thoughts away and back onto his surroundings.

Mr. Silvertongue came back and said they were being taken in groups to the inn to break their fast, and that the first group had already left.

Mr. Gemhands nodded at the announcement as he quietly talked to his da’, but his da’ didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He was staring intently off into space, not replying even once to Mikus as the dwarf continued talking. Mikus reached out, placing a hand on his da’s shoulder at his continued lack of response. His da’ looked like a statue; sitting on the hay bale with his chin on his fist, not moving a single muscle or even glancing around.

Ari absently picked a piece of straw out of Tommy’s hair, studying Donnor in concern. “Let’s go see your father,” she said and walked them both over to his side.

“Good morning … Donnor.” She smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

His da’ grunted, looking towards her and Tommy. He had an intense look in his eyes, almost as if he was looking inside them, and didn’t look like he had slept at all. He did not meet their gaze for long before turning away, staring back off into space.

“No. No, I did not,” he said with some heat.

“Easy, laddie,” Mr. Gemhands said, eyeing his da’.

“What’s wrong, Donnor?” Ari’s brow creased as she reached out towards him.

“The day.”

“Donnor of Lakeside?” a call came from the door in a strong voice, freezing her hand mid-motion before Ari could touch him. Two more guardsmen were now standing there, one Tommy recognized as Keris from the day before.

“Aye,” his da’ answered loudly, still looking at the ground, seemingly angry.

“Good morning.” Keris smiled with a nod of greeting as he walked up, leaving the other guardsman by the door. “You and your companions are wanted in the Hold. Please come with me.”

Donnor clenched his jaw and stood. “Come along all of you. We have an ‘appointment’ to keep,” he said with more than a touch of sarcasm, motioning for Ari, Mr. Gemhands, and Tommy to follow. He turned and strode away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he went.

Mr. Gemhands waved to Sella and the rest to sit back down as he followed after Donnor. Ari’s troubled gaze never left him as Donnor continued to walk away, not sparing her a single glance. Even Tommy thought that was strange.

“Donnor?” She cautiously reached out towards him, her voice filled with concern.

Mr. Gemhands quickly intercepted her hand and shook his head, then looked towards Tommy. “Today be a day ta’ be silent an’ watch, laddie. Yer’ da’ be in a mighty fury about somethin’, an’ I dinna’ know what it be.”

“Lead on,” Donnor almost growled to the remaining guard at the door as Keris and he joined him. The other guardsman gave his da’ a look, picking up on his anger. Glancing at Keris, the man said nothing as he turned and led the way towards the Hold.

The sun was warm, but a little blinding compared to the gloom of the warehouse, rising as it was in the clear morning sky. A group of chickens were pecking and scratching on the path, contentedly clucking away at each other as they passed.

As they neared the inn, people were being served what looked to be gruel by the innkeeper, Daris Sintletin, and her helper, Unris. There were rows of benches in the road that people were breaking their fast on as they walked by. The innkeeper kept up a constant happy chatter of, “Hello!” and, “Welcome!” to the many people waiting in line to be served. And she got many smiles and greetings in return.

As they walked past, they could see the gate in the wall take shape; an impressive portal to Tommy’s eyes. A double line of young men in leather armor with spears were marching out, and Keris stopped to let them pass by, motioning for everyone to move off to the side of the road. Their dark brown armor was neatly fitted, and they were led by a slightly older man who nodded familiarly to Keris while calling a cadence to the men to keep them in step. They marched smartly by, only sparing their party a passing glance as they moved together in formation, heading west.

Tommy thought the marching men looked very fine indeed in their matching gear, and watched them intently as they passed by. He noticed the painted iron shields on their backs as they marched to the calls of the older man, whose mail shirt, and the hilt of his sword, glimmered in the morning sun in time with his steps.

Mr. Gemhands snorted after they’d passed, then nudged Tommy with his hand to keep moving. Keris and the other guardsman had started walking away while he’d been watching, and he picked up his step to catch up.

Keris led them to the gate of the Hold, and had a short conversation with the two guardsmen there while Tommy craned his neck to look up at the wall towering above them. Then Keris led them past the heavy timbered doors of the gate and into a large tunnel that arched under the wall. There were small doors on either side of the tunnel near the gate, skinny windows in its walls, and holes in the ceiling that Tommy didn’t know the purpose of.

He opened his mouth to ask what everything was, but Mr. Gemhands grasped his arm and shook his head, gesturing with his finger to remain quiet while motioning with his eyes to his da’. It was only then that Tommy realized his da’ had not looked around even once during their entire journey, and seemed to have his gaze fixed ahead as he continued to follow the guardsmen.

Ari was slightly behind and to Donnor’s right, watching him with a concerned look while stroking her loosely plaited hair. She glanced periodically at Mr. Gemhands, looking, and not seeming to find whatever it was she was looking for in his eyes.

His da’ was acting very strange. Even when he was angry, he always said something. To Tommy, this imposing, silent man was something scary and new.

They passed through the stone tunnel and into a courtyard where many men were up and about, accompanied by much yelling, grunting, and swearing. There were more young men in leather armor on the right practicing with swords in pairs. And while Tommy watched, one was tripped up and fell to the ground.

The young man was immediately yelled at by another man wearing chainmail, who seemed to be in charge. This man took the downed one's sword, gave him a hand up, and then proceeded to go through an attack on his opponent with exaggerated slowness; berating both of them the entire time. Then he returned the sword to the man, finished yelling at them both, and the pair began nervously practicing again under his watchful gaze.

A finely dressed older man was walking slowly back and forth in front of another group on the left, who were standing in rows with spears and iron shields.

He suddenly yelled, “Ready!”

The men yelled, “UHHH!” replying to the command as they swiftly pointed their spears in front of them.

Next, the older man yelled, “Brace!”

“AHHH!” The men crouched down, bending their knees while leaning forward, holding their spears tightly in both hands.

Then the man yelled, “Strike!”

“HUUH!” The second row yelled as they stabbed their spears forward between the rank in front.

The volume of the yelling men intimidated Tommy, as it beat against his chest as if someone was thumping him with their fist.

Their group continued on to a narrow stone stair that was completely open to the courtyard below, and they were forced to climb it single file to the second level where a grand entrance was located. A double door made of ironwood stood open, with smartly dressed guardsmen stationed on either side. The frame surrounding the door was carved with strange blocky runes and other decorations, the likes of which Tommy had never seen.

Keris and the other guard led them past the doors before he could get a good look at them, and into a green-carpeted hallway that opened up into a vast room. It had a central staircase at its far end that split into three parts from a central landing, heading straight, left, and right.

Multiple small windows near the ceiling let in the morning light, brightly illuminating the hall and its occupants. Many large tables lined the walls, forming a central path of cut stone from the entrance to the base of the stair. People sat beneath blue and yellow banners, hanging from the rafters above them, while trophies lined the walls.

Several doors lined the walls, and people were going busily through them to-and-fro, on tasks that Tommy could only guess at. A large fireplace was centered about halfway down along each wall which were tall enough for a man to easily stand inside of, with low fires lit in either one. Tommy felt his mouth gape open at the grandeur before him, and his head spun back and forth to take it all in while they walked.

Scattered amongst the tables were guardsmen and more young men in leather armor, eating or talking amongst themselves. There were also groups of finely dressed people, and even some families, breaking their fast here and there amongst the soldiers.

At the leftmost table near the stair sat a more distinguished group of men and women, eating and discussing something around a large map. Tommy recognized Commander Arnet sitting on the side of the table nearest him, next to a richly dressed man at the table's head. The group was helping themselves to a large platter of food while they talked; simple fare from what Tommy could see, but far better than the gruel he’d seen outside.

Keris led the way through the other people in the hall to this group, banged his right fist to his left breast in a salute, and addressed the man at the head of the table. “Donnor of Lakeside, and party, my Lord.”

“Thank you, Keris, you may return to your duties.”

Keris saluted again, nodded pleasantly to them, turned, and left as the richly dressed man began speaking.

“I am Pawdrig Maorilan, lord of this place. Please sit and break your fast; we have much to discuss.” Lord Maorilan waved them to the empty places on the bench beside Commander Arnet; only Arnet, the lord, and the older man beside him having chairs.

Mr. Gemhands and Ari looked sharply at Donnor in surprise, before Mr. Gemhands put his hand on Tommy’s back and quickly pushed him into bowing. As they all bowed then sat, Donnor stayed standing, jaw clenching and unclenching, shoulders rigidly set.

Lord Maorilan calmly observed his da’ for a moment in silence, before quirking a single eyebrow. “Donnor? Please, sit and break your fast.”

His da’ inhaled and exhaled loudly through his nose, then bowed slightly to the lord while offering him the same salute Keris had made. He sat beside Commander Arnet, his hands clenched into fists on the table. Commander Arnet snorted loudly and continued eating, having stopped to watch the entire affair.

His da’ seemed to be almost shaking as he sat there, staring off into space, ignoring everyone around him. Lord Maorilan watched Donnor for a moment, then turned back to continue speaking with the older man at his side.

A woman came by and placed some plates down for them, and Mr. Gemhands began helping himself from the platter of food after looking left and right to make sure it was allowed.

Ari glanced around also, making a plate for Tommy and herself while his da’ continued to sit rigidly in silence. Looking at Donnor consideringly, she made another plate that she placed down pointedly in front of him, and nudged him to eat. He focused on her, looked down at his plate, then sighed and mechanically began eating in a way that stated he was eating, but not tasting his food at all.

While Lord Maorilan continued speaking to the older man, the others at the table studied their group curiously. On their side of the table were Commander Arnet, Donnor, Ari, himself, and Mr. Gemhands.

Across from Tommy was a sprite dressed in greens and browns, his hair a tawny color like the pelt of a fox. He smiled at them, a glimmer of mischief in his large eyes, before turning back to the discussion at the head of the table.

Beside him was a woman with graying hair, dressed in a comfortable-looking red robe tied with a thick black sash. She nodded individually to each of them, before returning her attention to the lord’s conversation as well.

An older, distinguished-looking gnome sat beside her, dressed in pants and a shirt with a fine vest over his portly belly. The gnome barely spared them a glance as he ate loudly, seemingly more intent on his food than anything else going on around him.

On the other side of the sprite was an elf dressed in clothing cut noticeably different than everyone else. This elf was wearing chainmail, but the chain was made of links so fine it almost looked like a shimmering woven cloth. A hooded blue cloak was draped around him that he clenched in his hands on the tabletop, covering them. His sparkling blue eyes were intent. And though he met everyone’s gaze in acknowledgement, he seemed to watch Ari most of all.

And Ari pointedly ignored him.

An Uncomfortable Meal

Tommy’s stomach was growling, forcing him to turn from taking everything in and pay attention to eating his breakfast. With all of the finely dressed people at their table he felt awkward, uncomfortable, and afraid of making a mistake. He was also acutely aware of the elf’s evaluating gaze, and decided to look at the map on the table to avoid meeting his eyes.

It was a beautiful thing, drawn in exquisite detail and illuminated in rich colors. His da’ had taught him his letters, so he could read the labels penned onto the map depicting the surrounding lands.

There was the symbol for Redtail Hold nestled up against the Sunset Peaks. The mountains bordered the eastern edge of the Serensea, and stretched from the Serensea far into the north. The Hold was situated on the northern edge of the sea which took up most of the center of the map. Symbols for villages surrounded the Serensea, and his chest tightened as he located Lakeside far from the others on its southern shore.

Off to the east on the far edge of the map was the city of Tatdavarr, connected to Redtail by a dotted line. Tatdavarr was a great city, sitting on the shores of the ocean, and was something wondrous to behold by all of the tales that he’d been told in the village. His da’ had taught him it was also the seat of The Timeless Throne, and home to the king who ruled the kingdom they were a part of from the other side of the mountains. The five cities of the kingdom; Devalket, Shardal, Baasondee, Lagaree, and Akreesha, all traded their wares to far-off places through the port of Tatdavarr, making it a place filled with riches and wonder.

The territory around Tatdavarr appeared to be mostly grassland, separated from Redtail by the Sunset Peaks, and was covered with symbols that Tommy eventually figured out depicted farmland. The dotted line connecting Redtail Hold to the great city must be a road, Tommy realized, and he noted the pass through the mountains at the Hold’s end of the road. Just north of the pass was a strange symbol that he eventually figured out was the mine he’d heard stories about, where Redtail got its salt to preserve fish harvested from the ‘sea.

A short distance away from Redtail Hold itself, the northern expanse of the map became an endless forest that his da’ had told him stretched for hundreds of leagues. And what looked like ruins were marked there, deep in the forest, and far from anything else.

West of the Serensea, the plains continued for a short time before becoming hills. Those hills stretched diagonally from the western edge of the map to the south, slightly beyond Lakeside. The hills stopped at the Tang’mato; the wide, shallow river that drained from the Serensea. And it disappeared south off the map heading into the Endless Plains.

The southwestern hills eventually grew into the Wyvern’s Teeth Mountains, that stretched far to the south and west of the Serensea. Tommy remembered seeing their snow-capped peaks on the horizon from home, and he and Dawd had imagined many adventures there. He shied from that memory however, and quickly turned his mind back to the map as he ate.

Noticing miniature soldiers and other markers deliberately placed around the map, Tommy studied them. A few tiny soldiers were to the west of the Hold near a village, with the rest in a cluster on the Hold itself. A handful of black markers were on the far western side of the lake with some also near the Hold itself. Lakeside, he noticed, all by itself on the southern shore, had a black marker centered on top of it.

There were many red markers spread all over the map, most of the red ones being on, or near, the black. Groups of red markers were scattered south and west of the Hold, and extended past where Lakeside sat, to the southeast beside the Tang’mato. A very large cluster of red markers was east of the mountains on the edge of the map, south of the dotted line and closer to the city of Tatdavarr. And off by themselves, a small cluster of green markers were north of the Hold, near the ruins in the forest.

Tommy learned more about the world in a glance while looking at the map than he had with all the learning he’d received in the village. He wondered what else was out there, off beyond its edges, as Lord Maorilan finished his conversation with the older man and cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention.

“Let me introduce everyone present. To my right is Sir Laigan, my second, Knight of the Order of Pa’din, and Captain of the Guard. Master Girdly, of the Girdly Trading House, tasked with transporting our goods to the merchant houses in Tatdavarr.” He indicated the gnome. “Hesia Durn, our resident mage.” The woman in the red robe nodded solemnly as she was named. “Pipit Brightleaf of the sprites, our northern neighbors.” Who smiled at his naming. “Tintafel Alarion, our resident elf, who keeps me aware of local happenings and other delicate issues,” he continued getting no reaction from Tintafel as the elf continued studying Ari. “And lastly, to my left, is Commander Arnet, my third, and in charge of the conscripts sent from Tatdavarr. We all are familiar with one another,” he said, waving at the named individuals while looking towards Tommy’s group.

“Our newcomers this morning escaped the destruction of the village of Lakeside on the southern shore, that we were discussing prior to their arrival. The dwarf is Mikus Gemhands, of Clan Gemhands, whose clanhold is far to the east in Khagatom. The elf, Arisaylia Saliantrea, daughter of Na’Tor Saliantrea, one of the lords’ Wi’Jitikiin, of Sirikii and the Vale. The man is Donnor Silverspear, most recently of Lakeside. And finally, his son, Tommy.”

Tommy’s da’ surged to his feet. “Our identities were not yours to tell!” he declared hotly.

Conversation instantly ceased in the hall as the various guardsmen looked up at his da’s outburst in surprise. Sir Laigan’s face distorted with fury as he moved to stand, but stopped looking at his lord in surprise as Lord Maorilan calmly placed his hand on his arm.

“Think highly of yourself, don't you, ‘Silverspear’, to bark at a lord in his own hall,” Commander Arnet mocked as he stood and placed his bulk between Donnor and his lord. “My Lord, we don’t need this trumped-up villager or his arrogance in your hall,” he said as he reached out to grab hold of his arm.

Donnor pulled back his arm, dodging the grab by the powerful man and avoiding it. The commander grabbed again, which Donnor quickly dodged while backing away, both men now staring hotly at one another.

“Both of you sit,” Lord Maorilan ordered. “Now!” he commanded when neither man moved.

After a pause, Commander Arnet said, “Apologies, my Lord.” He gave Lord Maorilan a slight bow and returned to his seat.

Donnor, obviously struggling with his anger, also gave a slight bow and sat, though there was now a noticeable space between him and the commander. Ari put her hand on Donnor’s arm trying to get him to look at her, and Tommy thought he heard Mr. Gemhands growl.

Master Girdly chuckled in obvious amusement. “I didn’t realize that entertainment was on the schedule this morning!” he said, reaching for a piece of fruit.

“It was not,” Lord Maorilan replied.

“Na tutial alara a Sirikii, Nisa Saliantrea,” Tintafel interjected quietly into the pause, making a strangely formal gesture with one hand.

“Alastorel na tui, Alarion,” Ari snapped in reply, finally looking at the elf with a glare.

Tintafel raised an eyebrow in return.

“Perhaps we can continue, my Lord,” Hesia Durn said smoothly, in a surprisingly deep voice for a woman, “before flaring tempers can distract us more ...”

Commander Arnet snorted at this and continued eating.

“Excellent idea, Hesia.” Lord Maorilan rapped his knuckles on the table, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Before our interruption,” he said without looking at Donnor or the commander, “I was about to say that I had called all of you to break your fast with me this morning to discuss the situation we find ourselves in. Each of you knows some of what we shall discuss. But for most, this will be the first time you have heard it all. There is more to our predicament than you are aware, and everything that you learn here today, including some identities,” he said with a nod to his da’, “will not leave this table.

“Am I understood?” Everyone murmured their agreement, and his da’ let out a long sigh before nodding. Lord Maorilan gazed around the table, meeting everyone's eyes, then looked to his right and said, “Sir Laigan, if you will begin?”

“Yes, Milord,” Sir Laigan replied, eying his da’ and the commander.

“We are facing an increase in raiding by the ondilaan, and an escalation in their attacks. The ondilaan have always raided periodically over the years as their tribes wander the Endless Plains, far to the south of Tatdavarr, and past the Wyvern’s Teeth Mountains. Redtail mostly encounters them when they cross the Tang’mato or come north through the various mountain passes in the Wyvern’s Teeth, and move into the southern and western hills.

“Rarely do the tribes do more than take livestock or burn fields. And when they are confronted by the guard, there is typically a short engagement before the warriors return to their tribes and retreat. We have never had any contact beyond that with the tribes, and this cycle of raid and response is part of the risk for our people in the outlying villages.

“What we are facing now is an escalation beyond the raiding that is their norm. We have villages burned, and their people slaughtered. The villagers are reporting sudden attacks, without the normal posturing of the ondilaani warriors looking to count coup. They appear to be taking nothing, and this is well outside their norm from what we know of them.

“Also, they appear to be using archers to support their warriors. This is particularly noteworthy as from what we know of their raids is that the warriors engage in combat to gain scars to show off their prowess in battle to prospective mates. Engaging from beyond where the enemy can hit you defeats this purpose.

“Reports from Tatdavarr that recently arrived thanks to Master Girdly’s caravans say the kingdom is facing a similar occurrence there, and that there are even larger numbers of ondilaani warriors reported far to the south of the city. Some reports, though not confirmed, place the numbers approaching Tatdavarr in the thousands. But this seems ridiculous, as there have never been encounters with them beyond a few tens of tribesmen.

“Taking the reports from Tatdavarr at face value, and the increased raiding we are experiencing, it is our assumption that the tribes this year are not simply raiding, and we are facing a true assault, and maybe even a grab for territory. The Crown has decreed from the Timeless Throne a marshalling of the army, and the army is now assembling to the west of Tatdavarr.”

“Thank you, Sir Laigan,” Lord Maorilan said.

“Will the road remain open?” asked Master Girdly.

“We don’t know,” Sir Laigan replied. “We have experienced many raids in the past, and though it takes a month to Tatdavarr by caravan, the road has never been in danger even when it has been patrolled by conscripts. This year the attacks are different in both manner and tactics, so there is some concern. We have dispatched a compliment of the guard to Tatdavarr by order of the throne. It is assumed they will be used to patrol the road.”

“Hmmm,” Master Girdly frowned.

“Why don’t you continue, Master Girdly?” Lord Maorilan offered.

“Yes, Lord Maorilan,” the portly gnome replied in a nasally voice. “The last caravan returned a week ago, increasing the purse by a satisfying amount. We fetched a good price on our fish, and the people of Devalket were hungry for them. Stores in the Hold are low as they always are this time of year, which is nothing new. Our main harvest will not be ready for a few weeks, and we are quickly burning through our remaining stockpile of grains feeding the refugees. We can always supplement our stores by fishing, but not quickly enough to feed everyone here. If many more refugees arrive, we will be forced to consider rationing.”

“Can we assign any of the refugees to help?” Lord Maorilan asked.

“Yes, Milord,” Master Girdly replied. “But there is no accounting of their skills as of yet.”

“Sir Laigan?”

“Underway, my Lord,” he stated as Lord Maorilan turned to the mage.

“We are doing what we can in small amounts, my Lord,” Hesia said to his steady gaze. “My skills are more martial, as my Lord knows. There are two mages who retired to the western hills that I’ve asked for assistance. Between them, they are using their skills to increase the speed of the crops' development. However, they can only do this to one field at a time, and the more fields they try to service, the less overall effect they have. I’ve asked them to come to Redtail and stay mostly to one local field so that the supply of fresh vegetables can keep up with current demand.”

“The cost?” Lord Maorilan asked.

“High,” Hesia Durn answered. “The villagers fear them now that they know what they are, and they can no longer return home. The coin they are asking for is so they can relocate, whenever and wherever that will be.”

“Hmmm. Prepare a place for them here. See that they are provided for, and I will speak with them later.” Lord Maorilan shifted in his chair looking at the sprite.

“Our hunters continue to supply meat, Pawdrig Maorilan,” Pipit said in a high, accented voice. “The forests are still, and we have not heard of any new threats.”

“Any thoughts on our request for scouts?” Commander Arnet asked.

“The sprites will not come, as we have said before,” Pipit replied, producing a grunt from the commander.

“And why not!” Commander Arnet demanded.

“Arnet!” Sir Laigan said. “We’ve discussed this before, and you know why. The sprites fulfill their oath to hunt and warn us of issues to the north by ancient treaty, nothing more. In return, we provide them refuge when asked. This has been the way for generations. You know this.”

The commander growled at Sir Laigan’s direct look, and turned away with a scowl.

After a pause, Tintafel spoke in a quiet, educated voice, “The people are worried. The closer villages hear tales, but they attribute most of the worst stories to rumor unless refugees have actually passed through. The last we heard from the dwarves was that they were hunkering down and shoring up their defenses, but that was weeks ago, and things have escalated since. Two of their clan staying at the inn were turned back by the tales of refugees fleeing along the western road.

“The closest attacks, though small, have been less than a day and a half from here, and the people of the Hold know it. There has been some talk of leaving for Tatdavarr, or one of the other major cities beyond the Peaks, by some of the families, but they seem content to stay for the time being and are reassured by the constant patrols of the guard. Daris Sintletin has stopped serving spirits and watered down the ale at the inn at your lordship’s request to keep the people calm, and in case of an attack here.

“There are also reports of bandits in the pass on the road to Tatdavarr. Some of the independent traders and lone travelers have either failed to arrive, or reported thefts, but large groups so far have been left alone. There had been no newcomers to Redtail prior to these attacks, and no one has gone missing or unaccounted for, so it appears that this is not a local group. The salt mine is so far secure, but the guard there does not have the numbers to do more than guard the mine itself and the caravan’s leaving it. The problem is worsening, and we are unable to dispatch them at this time.”

Lord Maorilan raised an eyebrow towards Commander Arnet.

“We are stretched too thin, my Lord,” he replied to the silent query. “Some of the bandits were slain when the last caravan came through, but we just don’t have the numbers to patrol the road and root them all out.” He frowned.

“Explain.”

“The guard patrols the pass, the Hold, and the immediate area. They are our reserve in case of a monster sighting, where they are our main force, and mostly train against this type of attack. The last beast roaming the area slew close to twenty of the guard before it was brought down, which is an eighth of the guards’ total number.

“Because of this, we asked Tatdavarr for assistance, and they replied by sending conscripts from the merchant houses there. The people they sent were the poor and homeless, or troublemakers they wanted rid of. The Houses just rounded them up, put a spear in their hands, called them soldiers, and shipped them off. We supply their food, but damned if they can supply us proper troops!” he declared.

“Peace. Continue.”

“Yes, Milord. We currently have close to two hundred conscripts and had expected a troop of forty more with the last caravan, but received none. The dispatch from Tatdavarr stated they had been reassigned because of the rumors of advancing ondilaan, and reinforcements would come sometime in the future ... when they were available,” he snorted.

“Right now, we have roughly a third of them trained in simple tactics with basic equipment, but they will be easily shaken by any attack, and overrun if we’re not careful. Most of them are his age …” he waved at Tommy dismissively “… barely out of their diapers.”

Donnor’s nostrils flared at this, and he turned to glare at the commander.

“I’d be watchin’ yer’ tongue, laddie,” Mr. Gemhands warned with a growl.

“Peace!” Lord Maorilan said again, rapping his knuckles on the table before him. “Continue.”

“With half our normal complement of the guard dispatched to the army, we don’t have enough trained troops to deploy to the western villages. We dispatched two dozen of the trained conscripts this morning with one of our own, west to the village of Resthaven. We have them taking up station there to act as a warning if the ondilaan move farther north. They carry orders to replace the conscripts already there, who will then make a short patrol of the area immediately south and west of Resthaven, before returning to the Hold for more training.

“It’ll take about three or four days for the replacements to arrive depending on how hard Sergeant Oldsby pushes them. So, we have no way of knowing if the village still stands unless we get a runner, or the original patrol returns a week from now.”

“Can you help with that?” Lord Maorilan asked of Hesia.

“No, Milord. The only far speaking we have is between the Hold and the sprites, and it is one way from them to us,” she replied. Pipit said nothing, ignoring Arnet’s frustrated look.

“And the villages further to the west and south?” Sir Laigan asked.

“We can do nothing. The rest of the conscripts we have are untrained city folk, and barely know which end of the spear is the pointy end,” he said dismissively.

“They are not completely untrained,” Donnor said quietly.

“What do you know about it, fisherman?” the commander replied hotly.

The Duel

“Enough to know the difference between green and untrained,” his da’ answered. “You only need to watch their training in the yard to see this for yourself.”

“Really? Tell me then, oh ‘master of arms’, of the conscripts’ deadliness in battle,” Arnet mocked. “I can’t wait to hear how wonderful they are! Maybe we should just give control over to you, and you can ‘save the day’ while we bask in the light of your glory!”

“You are a fool ...” his da’ countered.

“Arnet! Donnor!” Sir Laigan barked.

“And you’re nothing but a country bumpkin thinking to rise above his station. Tell us, oh great general, your wisdom!” Arnet declared scornfully.

“... and an ass,” his da’ finished. “Do you plan on just letting the villages fall one by one?” Donnor continued.

“And garrison them with what? Farmers and boys?” Arnet snapped.

“Better than nothing!” his da’ shot back. “Anyone with eyes to see can serve as a lookout. Anyone with legs to run can report. You’re leaving them out there on their own, to be picked off one by one!”

“That is enough!” Sir Laigan stood and leaned forward with both hands on the table.

“And sending barely trained troops will get them killed piecemeal!” Arnet countered hotly.

“By the gods, man, don’t you care? Those are your people in those villages!”

“They’ll live or die on their own! I will not send untrained men to their deaths because of some sense of moral outrage!”

“By all the gods you will be silent!” Sir Laigan hollered; his face red, incredulous as the two men continued to argue ignoring him completely.

“If you don’t, they’ll all be dead before you even realize! Unhelped and unwarned, the villagers will die in droves!”

“They’re dead already! And the smart ones know enough to leave and make their way here. What would you have me do? Resurrect the dead?”

“Will! You! Be! Silent!” Sir Laigan demanded as he pounded his fists in time with his words.

“We barely escaped with our lives! There was no warning! Don’t you even care where the enemy is?”

“Every pillar of smoke in the sky is a warning! Every village destroyed marks their passing! We know exactly where they are, you fool!”

“You can’t possibly know that! The ondilaan are renowned hunters; known for being unseen! They could be arriving here this minute!”

“Oh, what could you possibly know, peasant? Take your walking stool, your whore, and—”

WHAM!

Donnor’s backhanded fist struck Commander Arnet in the jaw, knocking him over backwards accompanied by the clatter of his breaking chair. His da’ surged to his feet, face red with fury, with a murderous gleam in his eye. It frightened Tommy, who’d never seen his father, or anyone for that matter, angry like this.

“Stop!” Lord Maorilan bellowed, his booming command echoing strangely throughout the hall. Everyone froze in the hall as Lord Maorilan stood.

Commander Arnet pushed himself up on one arm, wiping his mouth of the blood he found there from a cut lip. He chuckled snidely into the silence. “So, the peasant has teeth. That won’t help you, fool. Guards!”

“Stay where you are!” Sir Laigan commanded. The guards in the room stopped, confused. “Milord?”

Lord Maorilan shook his head. “Blood has been drawn, and insult given.” He sighed. “I will not have warring between two of my commanders; and I will not have a death on my hands at this time with a duel!”

Everyone looked sharply at the lord with his inclusion of Donnor as one of his commanders.

“I will also not see one of my commanders in chains over an argument when he was provoked!” he finished, glaring down at Commander Arnet.

“I’ll be happy to beat this peasant bloody on the practice field to settle this, Milord,” Arnet declared, unrepentant. “Once you witness his defeat, I hope you will see that this is not the man you think he is.”

“So be it,” Donnor growled, then turned and strode out of the hall.

Arnet’s jaw dropped at his da’s response, and after a stunned moment staring after him, he quickly rose and followed.

Sir Laigan looked to his lord. “My Lord, this man ignores your position and title. He is barely courteous, and we know nothing of his history. His obstinate passion for the villagers led him to strike Commander Arnet before you! This is not the person I recall from my past. Why do you accept such disrespect from this man? You owe him nothing.”

“True. But Redtail does, and my father told me much.”

Sir Laigan considered this, eyeing his lord questioningly. “He will be beaten bloody, my Lord. You know how he gets in a rage.”

“Yes, my friend. Yes, I do,” he said as he walked towards the door.

Tommy was dumbfounded by what he’d just seen, barely recognizing the da’ he knew for the angry, powerful man he’d just witnessed. Pipit skipped past them, hurrying outside, followed by Hesia and Master Girdly as Tommy struggled to understand what had occurred.

“Come on, lass. We may have need o’ ya’ yet,” Mr. Gemhands said to Ari.

“No. You. Will. Not!” she snapped as she stalked away, Tintafel watching her intently.

“I didna’ mean him,” Mikus called after her.

“Mr. Gemhands, what’s going on?” Tommy asked, his eyes wide.

People die in duels!

“Yer abou’ ta’ see an idiot get his arse handed ta’ him, me lad,” he replied as they followed out the door with the rest following behind.

Arnet commanded the sword practice to stop and move away from one of the larger practice circles as they exited the door, and descended the stair. He had acquired two wooden practice swords and was swinging them about, limbering up with a grin on his face, while watching his da’.

Donnor walked up to one of the conscripts on the other side of the courtyard and said something to the man, holding out his hand. The conscript handed him his practice spear, and Donnor turned around walking back towards the circle, his expression cold and flat.

Lord Maorilan was speaking, “... being forced out of the circle is a loss. You may yield at any time. There will be no permanent injury! Am I clear?”

His da’ just nodded and kept walking towards the circle.

“I promise no permanent injury, my Lord,” Arnet replied snidely.

As soon as Donnor’s foot crossed the border of the circle, Arnet struck out with a lightning-fast swing that missed as his da’ dove forward, rolling underneath the swing and its follow-up strike from Arnet’s other hand. Donnor rolled to his feet with the butt of his spear striking the ground awkwardly behind him and spun to face Arnet, who was holding one sword like a scorpion and the other across his chest.

“Did you fall down, peasant?” Arnet mocked.

Donnor, now covered in dust, didn’t reply, holding his spear lightly across his body.

Arnet faked with one sword and spun while striking out with the other. His da’ tried to block, spinning the spear in his hand, but the head of the spear struck the ground, forcing Donnor to dive out of the way again or be hit.

Arnet charged, but was forced to jump to avoid the spear as Donnor spun it around at ankle height in an attempt to trip him up. Arnet landed lightly on his feet and lunged, his da’ countering again with a spin of the spear, which again struck the ground before the spin was completed, stopping its motion, and forcing Donnor to dodge away once again.

Arnet pressed the fight, swinging one sword and then the other, pushing his da’ around the ring. Donnor stopped trying to spin the spear and now used it almost like a broom; batting each strike away as it came. This continued for many moments until Arnet stooped low and lunged upwards with both swords, forcing his da’ to jump away to avoid the double strike. He landed heavily a few feet away on the edge of the circle, slightly off-balance as the butt of the spear once again struck the ground.

“Some warrior you are, ‘Silverspear’,” Arnet mocked as he stalked Donnor around the ring. “You can’t even hold a spear the right way, you fool. I can’t wait to bring you down.”

He lunged with his right sword, which Donnor blocked to the left. But Arnet used the block to spin his entire body, and that spin added to the force of the blow as he lashed out with his other sword. His da’ grunted with the power of the strike, and barely blocked it, while dodging again to the side.

“Da’!” Tommy yelled.

“Hush now, lad, yer’ da’ canna’ worry about ye now!” Mr. Gemhands replied with a growl.

Ari grabbed Tommy’s hand, a fiery throb pulsing through her touch.

Donnor, distracted for a second by Tommy’s cry, barely avoided another series of strikes that pressed him sorely as Arnet continued to batter him about the ring. The two men danced around each other, and it was obvious the fight would have ended quickly if his da’ was not so quick in avoiding Arnet’s strikes.

Eventually, Donnor was forced again to the edge of the circle, and in apparent desperation, swung his spear in a great arc, holding the spear with both hands on one end. Surprisingly, he caught Arnet in the shin, and dropped him to the ground with a solid thud and a puff of dust.

His da’ danced away from the commander instead of following up with an attack, moving to the other side of the circle and stomping hard on the butt of the spear. As Arnet rose, Donnor stomped again, and with a loud crack, about four hands of the spear broke off. His da’ grunted in satisfaction, and kicked the broken piece out of the circle.

“You finally do something smart and don’t follow it up? When your opponent is vulnerable? You break your weapon? You shouldn’t be made a commander because you’re a fool!” Arnet shouted angrily and lunged at his da’ again.

This time when Donnor spun his spear it did not strike the ground, but slapped the sword’s strike away with the flat of its blade. Then the other end of the spear struck out at Arnet’s chin as the spin completed. Taken completely by surprise, Arnet was forced to use his other sword to clumsily block the strike from crashing into his face. And after a startled pause, the pace of the duel increased even further.

Tommy could not begin to see everything that took place with the speed of the strikes before him. His da’ went from being chased around the ring, to standing toe to toe with Arnet, exchanging lightning-fast strikes, both hitting each other’s weapons with the staccato sounds of a drum.

Arnet used his immense strength to batter his da’, and when a solid strike hit, it shook his spear. Donnor used his spear almost like a farmer used his staff; spinning and turning it so that both ends whipped out in a confusing manner, causing Arnet to dance away more than once to avoid being hit.

The dust rose from the ground like a dark mist, stirred up by their dancing feet, and a quiet murmur began as the guard and the conscripts gathered around to watch the fight. The duel was punctuated by grunts as both men gave it their all, and the surrounding men began to cheer on Commander Arnet, taking bets on how quickly he’d win.

After a time Arnet stooped low again, lunging upwards with both swords straight at his da’s face. This time, however, Donnor spun his spear catching both blades together and forcing them both off to the side. With both swords out of place, Arnet was left horribly exposed, and he desperately tried to jump backward to gain space between them.

But his da’ was having none of that. Donnor stomped forward into Arnet’s jump, spinning his spear as he went, allowing one hand to slide to join the other. Turning his body while holding the spear in both hands, he used the force of the spin to add power to his blow, and struck Arnet in the side of the head with the butt of his spear; the force of the blow accompanied by a loud, meaty thud.

His da’ continued his spin, allowing his hand once again to slide on the spear, separating one from the other. And on finishing his turn, he froze with the tip of the spear lightly touching Arnet’s throat.

Arnet, flat on his back, with his arms akimbo and his swords splayed out around him, was drooling, unconscious.

Donnor let out a loud cry, “eeeYAAAH!” that echoed into the stunned silence of the courtyard.

“aaaOOO,” Tintafel said underneath his breath.

Ari cast Tintafel a curious glance as she entered the ring before focusing her attention on his da’. She placed her hand on Donnor’s arm, slowly pushing the quivering spear away from Arnet’s throat. Then spoke quietly to his da’, before kneeling at Arnet’s side.

“He is unconscious, Lord Maorilan. There is no break or injury beyond a large knot forming on the side of his head,” she said after examining the commander, into the murmuring of the onlooking soldiers.

“Then I declare Donnor victor of the duel, and honor satisfied,” he replied. “Perhaps now we can continue our conversation?”

“Perhaps,” Ari replied as she stood and took hold of Donnor’s arm. She placed the palm of her other hand on his heaving chest, and looked up into his face. They ignored everyone around them and just paused for a moment, staring into each other's eyes.

All eyes were drawn to them as they stood there in silence, before she asked something so quietly Tommy couldn’t hear. Donnor nodded in reply before turning his head to meet Lord Maorilan’s gaze.

“I accept,” was all his da’ said.

“Good. Follow me. The rest of you, return to your duties.” Lord Maorilan said as he turned and climbed the stair, striding back into the Hold.

Sir Laigan followed, giving Donnor a considering gaze, while Master Girdly started talking to the knight excitedly about the wondrous duel that he’d just witnessed. Hesia followed along, seemingly bored by it all, as the trainers began yelling for the conscripts to do this or that.

Pipit stood by Tintafel, both watching as his da’ leaned into Ari, their foreheads touching. They stood there for a moment longer, before Donnor stepped back and turned towards Tommy. Ari kept her hand on Donnor’s arm as they walked away from the circle, leaving Arnet on the ground behind them.

“I guess ye havna’ lost it. Have ye, ya’ fool?” Mr. Gemhands asked.

“I guess not, Mikey,” his da’ replied. “I guess not,” he repeated, glancing back at Arnet in the ring. “Come on, Tommy, let’s go finish our breakfast,” he said as he put his sweaty arm around him, turning him to walk back into the Hold.

“Tel sorel’a a nochi staii, Nisa Saliantrea?” Tintafel questioned as they walked by.

“Arnet do’nsco a Tol, ta’ven Alarion,” she replied.

A Task Revealed

Tommy had no clue what to think while he rubbed his forehead where a small headache was developing.

Who are these people?

His da’ was walking with him with a sweaty arm around his shoulders after just beating someone unconscious in a duel.

A duel!

Against the biggest man he’d ever seen!

He’d used a spear!

How did his da’ know how to use a spear?

In a fight!

Da’ never fought!

No one fought like that in the village! Sure, they had knives and some bows for hunting; but swords? Spears?

Then there were the incredible dodges, the spinning, and turning to strike and avoid strikes in return.

Where did Da’ learn how to do that? Tommy wondered.

He’d never seen anyone move like that before! Master Girdly’s excited chatter drifted back to him, describing the parries and thrusts with excitement.

I thought Da’ was going to die! Tommy thought in outrage while glaring at the gnomes back.

“Easy, lad. It’s over now,” Mr. Gemhands said, catching Tommy’s glare.

“By the gods, Tommy, I’m sorry. You must have questions, don’t you?” He held Tommy’s shoulders in both hands as he spoke, looking him in the eye.

“Who are you?” Tommy said slowly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Your da’,” Donnor said after a long pause, “and I always will be.” He looked suddenly vulnerable, something Tommy had never seen in him before.

“Ach’, now is no tha’ time fer’ this,” Mr. Gemhands said gruffly. “Finish with tha’ lord an’ we’ll find somewhere ta’ tell yer’ tale.”

Donnor paused, then sighed. “Can you wait?”

Tommy froze for a moment then nodded, unsure. His mind was in utter chaos. His da’ was fighting duels, Ari was acting strange, people seemed to know both of them … and Mr. Gemhands too!

His da’ continued holding him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes as if searching for something there. Not knowing what he was supposed to do, Tommy just stood there staring back at him. Eventually his da’ tiredly put his arm back around him with another sigh, and continued leading him back into the hall.

Ari stood behind Donnor watching the two of them intently. She followed after them as they turned with a determined look on her face and was about to speak, when Mr. Gemhands gripped her arm.

“Stay out o’ this, lass,” Mr. Gemhands said quietly. “Let one tale be told, ‘afore tha’ tellin’ o’ another.”

“How can he be told one without the other?” she snapped.

Tommy looked back at them both, even more confused after hearing her words.

“It canna’. But it no’ be yer’ tale ta’ have tha’ tellin’ o’,” Mr. Gemhands replied quietly, but firmly.

“I think we’ll all sit down and tell our tales to Tommy,” his da’ said, having overheard them. “And soon.”

Lord Maorilan had seated himself as they entered the hall. The rest of his council, apparently waiting for this, sat as well. Tommy sat, barely paying attention to the people around him with his mind still spinning; looking from his da’, to Ari, to Mr. Gemhands and back again. This time, he sat straddling the bench with Ari behind him. She turned in her seat, keeping her hands on his shoulders, and a warm wave of sensation passed from her hands through his body, calming his chaotic thoughts with her touch.

Mr. Gemhands was where Donnor had sat originally, and he planted himself there with a firmness that said he would not put up with any more foolishness from anyone. He moved Donnor so that Mikus was between his da’ and Lord Maorilan, leaving a wide space between himself and the lord. After taking a moment to glance around the table in warning, Mikus dragged his plate back to him and started finishing his meal.

“Peace, Master Dwarf,” Lord Maorilan said. “There will be no more excitement this morning.”

“Aye, yer’ lordship.” Mr. Gemhands chewed on an egg. Then mumbled under his breath, “There better no’ be.”

“Sir Laigan,” the lord prompted.

“Allow us to continue where we left off,” Sir Laigan said, giving Mr. Gemhands a very direct look, obviously having heard his comment. “In summation, the ondilaan are here in numbers we’ve not seen before. The guards’ numbers are low, and we are forced to replace them with conscripts whose training is in question. Multiple villages have been destroyed, and we do not have the resources to garrison them all. Refugees are arriving in increasing numbers to the Hold, causing our supplies to run low. The harvest is soon, however the ondilaan have historically burned our fields so the harvest is in question. People are worried, and banditry is on the rise, but the Hold itself is secure.” He paused to look around the table. “Am I missing anything?”

“No, Sir Laigan, that is our situation in a nutshell,” Lord Maorilan said. “My charge as Lord of Redtail Hold is to protect our citizens in this area for the Crown.” He paused. “I cannot do so.” His simple statement was more profound in its brevity than anything else he could have possibly said.

“I can secure the Hold, I can secure the road, I can secure the mine, but anything further than that, for the immediate future, cannot be done with the resources available. I have been told that it will require some weeks yet to train the conscripts sent by the Houses, and those are weeks the outlying villages do not have.

“I need troops here, here, and then more patrolling here,” Lord Maorilan continued, pointing towards the Hold, the road to Tatdavarr, and then circling the area on the western shore of the Serensea with his finger.

“Thus far, we have provided some security to the immediate area by sending a force of men with some individual weapons knowledge to the village of Resthaven. Their purpose there was to be obvious, and allow the ondilaan in the area to know they were there. They succeeded, and the ondilaan have since avoided moving in numbers much beyond Resthaven and the conscripts there.

“However, they are untrained and have no practice working as a unit,” Sir Laigan interjected. “No ability to stave off a determined attack, which makes them vulnerable, and is why we’ve sent a force to relieve them. Also, these people have no knowledge of the area beyond the Hold and Resthaven. They were sent with Sergeant Moran and two others in command, some of our most experienced guardsmen, but he was directed to withdraw in case of attack to preserve his force. His relief is the only unit of conscripts we have capable of operating independently to counter the ondilaan, beyond the Redtail Guard located here. And the guard cannot be deployed to the field.”

“You mentioned ‘individual weapons knowledge’, my Lord?” Master Girdly queried.

“He be meanin’ thugs an’ thieves,” Mr. Gemhands growled.

“Indeed,” Lord Maorilan confirmed, “which brings us to Donnor. My father had some experience with this man and his companions, and he passed that tale onto me before his death. Donnor has had some experience in the past forming and leading a force, and will do so once again, bringing his experience to our aid.

“I have tasked him to form a force of irregulars from volunteers amongst the refugees and attempt to provide some relief to the outlying villages. Slow the advance of the ondilaan if able, and generally harass the enemy as he can. He has agreed to form this force on the ‘morrow, and leave the following day.”

Ari inhaled sharply, seemingly right in Tommy’s ear, while Mr. Gemhands slowly turned his head to look at his da’ appraisingly.

Lord Maorilan continued, “I have granted him the rank of commander for this task, and he will be considered equal in station to Commander Arnet. His force will operate independently, under Donnor’s command, and remain separate from the conscripts here.”

“No’ doin’ things by halves, are ye, ya’ fool?” Mr. Gemhands said to his da’. “Ya’ coulda’ said somethin’, doncha’ think?” Mikus growled. “We only be knowin’ one another fer’ an age,” Mikus finished wryly.

Ari’s grip tightened on Tommy’s shoulders, that feeling from her touch becoming hot and pulsating once again.

“He was commanded to hold his tongue, Master Dwarf,” Sir Laigan interjected. “You may be interested to know he fought that order long and loudly into the night, but we cannot run the risk of word getting out.”

“And, we fear that there may be a bandit amongst the refugees ...” Tintafel quietly interjected.

With a thud, Commander Arnet dragged a new chair to the table and sat back down in his place at his lord’s side. He set an empty potion bottle on the table before him, eyeing his da’. “Nice hit,” he said, getting a nod from Donnor in return.

Tintafel eyed the two men and seemed to expect another outburst as he continued “... and with the bandits possibly having a person amongst the people, we cannot risk them warning the ondilaan if they are in contact with one another. He agreed to remain silent until this morning and our meeting here, in a place where you are the only unknowns.”

Commander Arnet, grabbed his plate and continued eating, casting appraising glances periodically at his da’; surprisingly without any noticeable hostility.

“He was also going to spend the night in the Hold as our guest if he refused,” Sir Laigan concluded.

There was a long pause. “So. This is the situation as it presents itself. Are there any questions? Have we forgotten anything?” Lord Maorilan asked.

“Excuse me, my Lord,” Tintafel interjected, staring at Ari. “There is the matter with the elves.”

Tommy felt Ari’s hands tense on his shoulders, and he saw a similar tension descend over his da’.

Mr. Gemhands slowly turned his head to Lord Maorilan. “Tha’ elves?”

“Hmmm, yes. The elves,” Lord Maorilan said, sparing Donnor a glance before looking over Tommy’s shoulder, watching Ari closely.

“It seems they have misplaced someone of some importance,” he said casually. “Someone who is wanted back in the Vale by one of the lords there.” He studied Ari intently, and was obviously waiting for a reaction. “They have been most insistent that this person is here, and have provided a description of this person in exhausting detail.” He paused again, then continued after it was obvious no reaction was forthcoming.

Looking up and off into space as if trying to remember something he’d read, he began, “Let me see … Arisaylia Saliantrea, daughter of Na’Tor Saliantrea, Lord Wi’Jitikiin of Sirikii and the Vale. An elven maiden of surpassing beauty with scarlet hair and emerald eyes, who may be with child or with an elven infant. She may be in the company of a human man of approximately sixty years, who is known only by the name ‘Donnor’. Known to carry a spear, this human is most likely in the company of his son, who should be approximately eighteen years of age. She may also be in the company of a dwarven family of Clan Gemhands, one male, one female, and a child.

“If found, consider them highly dangerous and seek to subdue or kill the human and dwarf, before apprehending the maiden for return to Sirikii. Arisaylia Saliantrea is a known and powerful mage, and should be taken unawares if possible. Reward for information or capture is … well … it is not important at this point, is it? From what I can see, this elven maiden sits before me,” Lord Maorilan concluded. “I assume we should send word to the Vale,” he finished absently, directing the last comment to Sir Laigan who was glancing curiously at his lord.

All eyes turned towards Tommy, and then continued over his shoulder to where Ari sat behind him. Uncomfortable with their scrutiny, Tommy swung his leg so he could see Ari, whose face was a mask of non-expression.

Yet again, Tommy was forced into a situation where the people he knew were behaving in a manner completely unfamiliar to him. Ari conveyed a frigid hauteur he’d never experienced in anyone, let alone her, as she’d always gone out of her way to make him feel welcome and at ease. As she gazed on Lord Maorilan, however, she seemed to grow larger; her presence pushing on those around her, making even Tommy tense in response.

She kept one hand on his shoulder during his turn, and her grip was like molten fire. “It would be foolish to make such an assumption,” Ari said simply, as her eyes began to show sparks from deep within, taking on an almost green and golden glow. She brought her other hand onto the tabletop, and began drawing small repetitive circles on it with one, delicate finger.

“Arcturi Noctus!” Hesia shouted as she jumped to her feet, casting her hands towards Lord Maorilan as a protective globe of transparent flame snapped into being around him.

Hesia’s leap knocked over the bench, throwing Master Girdly to the ground on his butt with a squeal. Pipit and Tintafel avoided being knocked down, backing away cautiously while keeping Ari in view. Guards began standing throughout the hall, and shouts of alarm could be heard calling out.

Donnor calmly leaned his frame between Ari and the lord while remaining in his seat, forcing the lord’s gaze onto him. “There is no one here who fits that description, Lord Maorilan,” he said with a deceptive calm. “You are unfortunately mistaken.”

Lord Maorilan and Donnor locked eyes with one another for a long, intense moment. Arnet continued eating, one hand dropping out of sight to his waist as the guardsmen watched on from around the room.

“No?” Lord Maorilan asked.

“No.”

“Excellent. It would be a shame to lose such a beauty to the elves by mistake,” Lord Maorilan concluded after a long, uncomfortable pause.

He glanced at Hesia, motioning to the flames with his hand. And shortly thereafter, the flames disappeared as if they had never been. Hesia never took her eyes off of Ari, however, wholly focused on the elf. And it was obvious she was much more aware of things going on around her than she’d previously been.

Donnor continued speaking, drawing all eyes to him. “Ari, who shares such an unfair name and resemblance to the elves’ missing person, shall accompany me into the field where her skills can be put to use. It would be a shame if word of this was shared with the elves. Mistakes happen, especially between races, where simple misunderstandings can cause tensions, whose price can, unfortunately, be high.”

Lord Maorilan studied his da’, steepling his finger in front of his lips. “High, hmmm?”

“High,” Donnor concluded with a finality that brooked no discussion.

Sir Laigan looked back and forth at his lord in surprise as he spoke with Donnor almost as an equal.

“Then I suppose she may accompany you if she must,” Lord Maorilan agreed. “After all, we must keep her safe from any misunderstanding.”

“Yes, we must,” Donnor agreed. “It is of singular importance,” he finished.

His da’ sat back as the lord raised an eyebrow, Donnor’s shoulders losing some of their tension as he spoke. “Perhaps in consideration of any further misunderstandings, we may have an afternoon to ourselves? To strategize and plan for the future? Perhaps to speak of identities unknown to some of us, that were so abruptly brought to light?”

Commander Arnet, who’d continued eating unabated, said neutrally, “Need to go fishing? Huh, peasant?”

“Aye, something like that,” his da’ replied.

Lord Maorilan paused considering his request in silence, then nodded.

Donnor stood, never taking his eyes off the lord.

“We will speak again this evening, Donnor of Lakeside,” Lord Maorilan said. "Return to the Hold for the evening meal. A list of volunteers and their skills will be made ready by then, and we will discuss further options available to us. A place will be made ready for all of you, Commander, including the lady; here, within Redtail, for the night.”

His da’ slowly raised his fist to his chest in salute, bowing slightly, before turning and walking away.

Ari pulled Tommy to his feet, huffing in dismissal as she followed after his da’, her head held regally high.

Tommy heard Mr. Gemhands say behind him as they walked away, “I’d no’ be standin’ in between tha’ two ‘o them, me lordship.

“I would no’.”

And with that final warning, he walked away in his rolling dwarven gait.

The Lord’s Counsel

Conversation slowly began again in the hall with the apparent end of the arguments at the lord’s table.

The man, elf, dwarf, and boy left the hall, and the guards returned to their seats while watching them go, removing their hands from their weapons. It was obvious that word of the many confrontations and excitements this morning would be the talk of the Hold for days, and maybe weeks, to come. People were already whispering amongst themselves, while casting glances between the departing group and the lord’s table.

Hesia Durn turned from watching the group depart. “That woman is dangerous, my Lord! She radiates power!”

“I know, Hesia. They all are,” he said absently, his eyes following after them in quiet consideration.

“You let me push him, my Lord,” Arnet said after a moment. “Why?”

“That is simple enough, Arnet. You are known for your prejudices, especially in respect to station. He presented to you as a common villager, a nobody from nowhere, and you were obviously angered by our including him in a lordly discussion last night. The discussion that ultimately made him, an unknown, your equal.

“I was told by my father that he was a man of amazing martial skill, amongst other things, and he was either the Donnor I was told of, or an imposter seeking to take his place. If he was the Donnor I thought, any argument you made in anger would be met equally, and your duel would have been in question by what I was told of his prowess. If he was an imposter, his responses to your arguments would have been met with the deference of a villager, and any duel would have been avoided altogether, or lost badly.

“You are not the Hold’s master swordsman for nothing, Arnet. That makes what, four duels you have lost?”

“Four since being in your employ, my Lord. Seven total,” he replied.

“Four, seven, it matters not. You’ve had what, a hundred or so duels including your time in Tatdavarr? There is no way an unknown villager could beat a weapons master of your caliber in the fashion in which he did.

“Consider this. That man who just walked away has probably not held a weapon in anger for the entire lifetime of his son. What does that tell you, Arnet?”

Arnet looked at his lord consideringly, and then to the door where the group had disappeared, and grunted. “He’s not truly a villager then.”

“No. My father told me many things, some of which I will share, and some I will not. But a villager? No, definitely not.”

“My Lord, what of my people who left only days ago?” Tintafel asked. “There was no doubt, none whatsoever, that that was Arisaylia Saliantrea, daughter of Na’Tor Saliantrea, Lord Wi’Jitikiin. She is a magical prodigy, immensely powerful for her age, betrothed to the son of another lord of Sirikii, and should be considered royalty in her own right.

“Word of her whereabouts have been sought after by rulers and kings alike for over a year, as a favor to the Vale. Rumors of the happenings this morning will draw them like flies to a corpse. There is no way to prevent this from reaching their ears.”

“No, Tintafel, there is not. But their lives and identities are no longer mine to keep. I have fulfilled my father's oath, and have kept word of them silent except to those oathbound to me, providing them shelter as long as they remained hidden, and made no name for themselves. With this morning's duel, that is no longer an issue as he made a name for himself with Arnet’s defeat.

“It may not be kind of me, but word of their being here will draw the attention of many who seek them for the Vale. And the people who would pay attention to this group are people of power, and people of power have troops. I’m hoping to use that attention to draw their troops here, and it may inadvertently allow me the use of those troops in defense of my land.

“Consider this: the further he is into contested land, the further his pursuers will have to follow.”

“That is a dangerous gamble, my Lord,” Sir Laigan replied.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Should I try to apprehend Saliantrea, Milord?” Hesia asked.

“No. I value your life, Hesia,” he replied. “Any attack on her would bring an instant and fatal response from Donnor, whose formidable skill we all just witnessed. And any attack on Donnor is an attack on the dwarf. And though the tales of his past in Khagatom are murky, Mikus Gemhands was known to be another warrior of considerable skill. The only way that Donnor agreed to consider this task was by ensuring her, the dwarf, and his son were not separated from him.” Lord Maorilan continued to stare where they had left the hall.

“Ultimately, I gave my word.”

“I could take her unaware, while she slept,” Hesia offered.

“No. Beyond that, I have already made a decision and will not go back on my word, regardless of issues it causes me in the future. I have experience with this from my father’s oath, after all.

“And, what would it gain me in the end? I’d lose two warriors, a mage, a chance to protect my people, and any troops that may or may not come to apprehend them. The elves are not my liege to worry about, and the Timeless Throne of Tatdavarr can always disavow me for my actions. I may be old and without an heir, but I will protect my land and my people as I have sworn to do. And an heirless noble is easily replaced.”

Sir Laigan looked at Lord Maorilan and asked, “Has there been talk?”

“No,” he sighed. “It is just the ramblings of an heirless lord at the moment,” Pawdrig Maorilan, Lord of Redtail Hold, tiredly replied. “My family is no longer what it once was.”

Lord Maorilan sighed again before gathering himself. “Sir Laigan, complete the tally of the refugees. Those with martial skills; hunters, trackers, and the like, make ready for consideration on the ‘morrow. Any with large size, bulk, or strong arms regardless of skill, make ready also. The old and the young, ignore. If any can be put to work here, do so immediately.”

“And the rumors, my Lord? The tales of what happened here today?” Tintafel pressed.

“The rumors? We can combat wagging tongues with work.”

A Morning Sail

“Da’!” Tommy called out as he left the Hold. His da’ had left the hall, walking away in a determined and relentless gait that seemed to dare anyone to get in his way. Tommy hurried, trying to catch up to his da’ who was already in the courtyard at the bottom of the stair.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Donnor stopped, waiting for them to join him. “I’m distracted and lost in thought.” He looked around him, taking in the martial feel of the courtyard as he watched the men train.

I thought all of this was over.

Their group drew quite a few glances and curious looks as they met at the bottom of the stair, not only from the guard and the conscripts, but from the trainers as well. More than one looked on appraisingly as they trained, but none approached as they continued their bouts in the circles.

Tommy couldn’t help himself and looked to the practice circle where the duel had been. He shivered.

“It’s just a circle in the dirt, Tommy,” his da’ said tiredly, noticing his look. “Nothing more.”

To Tommy, the practice circle wasn’t just some circle in the dirt. He could still vividly see his da’ and Commander Arnet dodging and striking out in their duel. There was the mark where he rolled to dodge Arnet’s strike, and there were the scuffs in the dirt where Arnet had pressed him against the edge of the ring. Tommy’s eyes were wide with remembered fear for his da’ as he recalled how close some of the strikes had come.

“Come on, let’s head down to the pier,” Donnor said, seeing Tommy get caught up in memories of the duel.

“Ya thinkin’ o’ takin’ tha’ boat?” Mr. Gemhands asked as they left the courtyard through the tunnel.

“Yeah, Mikey. There’s a small island about an hour from here if I remember correctly. And, that seems like a nice private place for a chat.”

“Donnor, are you all right?” Ari asked, moving to walk beside him. At first he didn’t answer, and she reached out to lightly grasp his arm.

He turned and looked at her, his thoughts obviously far away. “Yes, sorry. I’m just tired and frustrated.” He gave her a small smile of apology.

The guards at the gate saluted Donnor fist to chest as they passed through the gate. They’d already heard of the duel, and watched the new commander’s group consideringly as they walked by. Donnor, apparently not noticing the salute, looked lost in thought as they continued on, moving through the buildings towards the sea.

Tommy watched him, thoughts still churning over what he’d seen during the duel. He wondered why he was so nervous about this talk that his da’ said was to come. And for some reason, he was afraid.

A few people were moving benches into the inn that must have been left over from breakfast. As they walked past the open door of the inn, they could hear Daris yelling at Unris from inside, which seemed to be the normal order of things. The odor of cooking food wafted out of the door; the preparation for the next meal of the day already underway.

Some people outside the warehouse were loitering about. A few children ran past an old man leaning up against the door, apparently engaged in a game of tag, laughing happily. One of the large doors to the warehouse was open, and people sat or lay on their makeshift beds staring off into the distance over the water. A number of clotheslines had been strung up between the warehouse and a nearby home that some of the blankets the refugees had been provided were hanging on, airing out.

As they continued to the pier, Guardsman Keris was there with another guard; the two standing at the end of the pier looking out over the water.

One of the boats that was on its way out into the Serensea could be seen raising its sail. Tommy watched the fishermen on the boat work, and caught himself wondering if he’d ever go back to fishing with his da’. Most of the boats were gone, but theirs was still tied up where they’d left it. And as they approached, Keris looked up.

“Morning, Commander,” Keris said, lightly tapping his fist to his chest.

Donnor looked at him in surprise. “Word travels fast around here, I take it?”

Keris grinned. “You could say that, Commander.”

Donnor sighed and asked, “Is there any way I could just be ‘Donnor’ until tomorrow, Keris?”

“Don’t be whinin’, ya’ fool,” Mikus said with humor, smacking Donnor roughly on the back. “Besides, I dinna’ think they be lettin’ us go if ya’ hadna’ agreed.”

Donnor glanced down at the dwarf, frowning, then looked back to Keris. “We’ll be taking the boat out for a bit. Is there still a small island about an hour southeast of here?”

“Yes, Commander. The fishermen use it as a navigation point, heading to the fishing grounds further south and east.”

“Thank you, Keris. Climb in everyone, and let’s go. Tommy, if you could untie us, and Mikus pole us away from the pier, we can get on our way. We’ll see you again this evening, Keris, if anyone wants to know.”

“Yes, Commander,” Keris said, casually saluting again as Mikus poled them away from the pier.

Donnor helped Tommy raise the sail, which caught the gentle breeze and got them underway. Ari nestled herself into the bow with her back towards where they were going, her arms on the gunnels enjoying the sun. Tommy's eyes were drawn to the net in the bow, tangled from being slept and laid on, and realized the boat felt much bigger with only the four of them on it. Standing with one hand on the mast, he looked around while Mikus and his da’ talked at the tiller.

It really is a beautiful day, Tommy thought as the sun shimmered off the calm waters of the Serensea.

“Tommy, do we have any hooks in the bow stores?” his da’ asked.

“Aye, Da’.”

“I think we’ll fish for lunch. Do you want to fish, or steer?”

“Can I steer?” Tommy asked hopefully.

“Sure, stay on this heading, and I’ll catch us something to eat.”

They exchanged positions, and his da’ got some spare twine and the hooks from the stores, fashioning simple fishing rods from the boat poles. “Want to join me?” he asked Mikus, who nodded and they both comfortably sat in silence casting their lines, one to either side of the boat.

“Is that all you two ever do?” Ari asked teasingly, her eyes closed with her face turned towards the sun.

“You never seemed to mind,” his da’ replied.

“Just catch something that tastes good,” Ari replied absently.

“I be makin’ ‘im throw back tha’ suckers, lass,” Mikus said.

“Humph!” Donnor groused, which caused both Ari and Mikus to chuckle.

Tommy watched them interact, and realized they were comfortable and familiar with one another well beyond what he’d seen in the village. They seemed to relax in one another's company; a silent understanding of companionship that he may have seen hints of, but had never witnessed so blatantly before.

“You know each other. Beyond the village, I mean. Don’t you?” Tommy asked before he could stop himself.

“Aye, lad, tha’ we do,” Mikus replied.

“I’ve known Mikus and Ari since before you were born, Tommy,” his da’ said, trying to snag a nibble on his line without success.

Tommy considered this. “So, you’re not from around the ‘sea?”

“No, I’m not from around here at all,” Donnor said, while watching his line in the water.

“Are ya’ gonna’ tell him? After refusin’ ta’ tell the tale ta’ Ari or me fer’ years? Do I finally get ta’ be hearin’ tha’ tellin’ of it?” Mikus asked, his accent thickening in his excitement.

Ari lazily opened her eyes to gaze at his da’.

“I been tryin’ ta’ hear tha’ tale fer’ thirty years, lad,” he said to Tommy, “an’ yer’ fool of a da’ won’t ever have tha’ tellin’ o’ it,” Mikus said with a grin.

“No, Mikus, I won’t be telling that tale right now. It’s nothing bad, just now is not the time. Just as I’ve been telling you over and over again for those thirty years you’re complaining about,” his da’ chuckled. This was obviously an old and worn topic between them, and Ari closed her eyes when it was apparent nothing new was going to be said.

“How have you been asking for thirty years? Did you meet da’ when he was a boy?” Tommy asked in confusion.

“Noooo. And tha’ be part o’ his mystery, blasted human,” Mikus said as he chuckled.

“How old are you?” Tommy asked.

“Close to sixty, son.”

“Sixty! Old Mr. Hart is sixty!”

“Yep,” his da’ said simply, looking away as Mikus snagged something with his line.

“Oh, Donnor, don’t tease the boy. Just tell him,” Ari said while Mikus let out a pleased shout, a fish jumping out of the water on his line.

Donnor sighed. “Okay,” he said with reluctance. “Tommy, I’m not from this land. I won’t tell you, or anyone, where I’m from. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’m from the Vale as much as anywhere …” He looked a little jealous, twitching his line as Mikus fought his catch.

“Anyway, yes, I’m almost sixty. I’ve aged very slowly since I came to the Vale, and your mother was constantly irritated with me as she aged normally when I did not.”

Tommy thought back over the years, and realized his da’ was telling the truth. He’d always seemed the same, as far back as he could remember. Who thinks about their da’s age anyway?

“Didn’t anybody notice?

“A few. But, your mum mixed potions and poultices for the village, you know. We let people assume it was just something she did for me.”

“Is that why you used to drink berry juice from her potion bottles at the tavern?”

Mikus laughed loudly at this, still fighting his fish.

“Yes, Tommy, that’s one reason.” He smiled. “The other is that I just didn’t like the ale,” he concluded, as he too got a bite on his line.

“Ha! We’ll see who’s the better fisherman yet, old man!” Donnor crowed.

Tommy watched the two in amazement as they both seemed to get younger and more playful before his eyes.

“They are like this every time they have a chance to fish, Tommy,” Ari said. “You’ve never seen it because you always fished with your father. But this,” she trailed off, waving her hand dismissively, “this has been going on for years. They’re boys.”

“You never complained before,” Donnor said.

“No. You always brought me dinner,” she said succinctly, obviously putting on airs.

Mikus laughed at this, and even Tommy had to smile at her blatant teasing. He checked his course and noticed a small island in the distance, and steered towards it.

“But sixty? Da’ you’re teasing me and having fun.” Tommy furrowed his brow.

“No, I’m not.”

“But how can that be?”

“Even I’m not sure about that. But it probably has something to do with the Gates,” his da’ replied.

“Gates?”

“Aye, lad. A Gate,” Mikus said. “It be crazy magic tha’ can take ya’ from one place ta’ another over hundreds o’ leagues by jus’ steppin’ through. Feels like someone be tryin’ to put yer’ head up yer’ arse, though.” He grunted, and pulled a nice sized fish into the boat.

“You just don’t like magic, you uncultured brute,” Ari quipped.

“Aye, I don’ be needin’ any fancy finger wavin’ ta’ make me way in tha’ world,” Mikus airily replied. “I be leavin’ tha’ ta’ ya’ pansy elves.”

She cracked one eye and raised an eyebrow to his unrepentant smile, then closed it with a “humph!”

“Anyway, I stepped through a Gate and found myself in the wilderness outside of Sirikii. I followed the sounds of civilization until Mikus here found me,” Donnor said, glancing at Mikus.

“Aye, an’ ye still say ya’ didna’ appear at tha’ Gate o’ Sirikii neither,” Mikus grumped. “There be a whole system o’ Gates connecting tha’ great cities lad, and yer’ da’ refuses ta’ use a single one. Make’s travelin’ hard.”

“I have my reasons,” Donnor groused, still battling his fish.

“Aye, ye an’ yer’ reasons. Always yer’ blasted reasons,” Mikus griped. “While yer’ da’ battles his wee minnow, let me tell ya’ some o’ it, lad,” he teased, ignoring his da’s mock glare.

“I saved yer’ da’ from bein’ thrown in irons fer’ burning down tha’ elves’ land, an’ took ‘im into tha’ city an’ he stayed wi’ me wife.” Mikus’s last words were gruff. “He worked wi’ me at tha’ smithy fer’ a while until he got his feet under ‘im. About a year later, yer’ da’ was no’ so innocent, an’ I let ‘im out ta’ wander beyond me sight.”

“You let me out!” his da’ said incredulously as the fish on his line jumped.

“Aye,” Mikus said with another grin. “Tommy, yer’ da’ was like a dog chasin’ a squirrel in a tree: loud, dumb, and clueless.”

“Hey!” his da’ exclaimed.

“Ah, be quiet there an’ finish catchin’ yer’ minnow. Anyway, he worked tha’ forge fer’ a while then went out an’ started takin’ jobs fer’ hire. Tha’ first was guardin’ tha’ cart, right? Tha’ one with tha’ perfume?”

“Oh gods, don’t remind me.”

“Ye’ were tha’ one bein’ chased by tha’ goblin lass, not I,” Mikus said as he chuckled.

“Anyway, yer’ da’ made a name fer’ himself as a person who could get things done after I pulled his arse out o’ trouble a few times, and came ta’ take a crazy job tha’ be changin’ his fortune. Ya’ see, he decided ta’ take a job fer’ tha’ city itself. The elves be stingy, ya’ know, an’ don’ hand out jobs ta’ outsiders very often. But this one be easy, all he had ta’ do was guard a lass.”

His da’ finally got his catch in beside them, and reached down, bringing another well-sized fish into the boat. He glanced at the island rapidly approaching, looked at his fishing pole, then sighed and began to untie the line.

“See, all he had ta’ do ta’ make a handful o’ gold was shaddup’, stand around, an’ look mean while some flighty rich lass did whatever empty-headed rich lasses do.”

This gained Mikus a one-eyed glare from Ari.

“But, noooo, not yer’ da’. He had ta’ go an’ make ‘friends’ with tha’ lass, an’ now we’re stuck with her.” He gave Ari a toothy grin.

“Da’ we’re almost at the island. Do you want me to drop the sail?” Tommy asked.

“We can always throw the mouthy dwarf over the side, Donnor,” Ari said haughtily. “Tie a rope to his ankle. He’ll sink like the stones in his head and slow us down.”

Mikus laughed and blew Ari a kiss.

His da’ rolled his eyes at the two’s antics. “I got the sail, son. We’ll beach the boat on that piece of sand over there. That way, we won’t have to find something massive to tie up to.”

His da’ moved to the mast, and as they were almost to the island's beach, he dropped the sail. They skidded to a stop with the bow a little way up on the sandy shore.

Ari gracefully hopped out and grabbed the bow line, which she smartly tied to a larger rock, while everyone else secured the sail and the boat.

“Let’s eat,” Donnor said when they finished, jumping to shore with the two fish in tow.

A Fire and a Fish

The island they’d stopped at was a tiny thing, not much bigger than the warehouse at the Hold. It was mostly bare rock, worn down by the wind and the waters of the Serensea. Here and there, scraggly brush and grasses grew randomly, scattered amongst the stones. Walking further onto the sandy shore disturbed some birds hiding amongst the driftwood, and they called angrily as they flew a short distance to the other end of the island. The smell of the Serensea surrounded them, carried on the breeze.

Except for one large boulder blocking vision on the northern end, the ‘sea could be seen in every direction. It would be easy to spot anyone coming, and Tommy wondered if that was why they came.

“Let’s collect some driftwood and make a fire by that boulder,” Donnor said. “Tommy, you and I can see if there’s any clams or crab to be found to add to the fish. Will you do the honors, Ari? There should still be that small pot in the boat.”

Ari nodded and turned, retrieving the pot and the spare sailcloth.

“I be gatherin’ tha’ wood, lass. Go an’ see wha’ ye can find, ye two,” Mikus said.

Tommy and Donnor removed their boots and tied the laces together, hanging them over their shoulders. Then they rolled their pants up, waded into the water, and started turning over stones while following the shoreline. The water along the shore was cool; mud and sand squishing between his toes as Tommy waded along.

“Here,” Donnor said after a moment, pointing out a patch of freshwater mussels he’d found. They began picking them and putting them into their boots to carry.

“Who is Ari, Da’?” Tommy asked after glancing at his da’ a few times. “You seem to know her, much better than you seemed to back home. Is she a friend of yours?”

“A friend?” Donnor looked at Tommy out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you could say that ...”

“But you almost never talked to her, Da’. I mean, you picked things up that Mum had her mend. But if she’s a friend, I didn’t know about it. I don’t think anyone knew.”

Donnor grunted, continuing to pick the mussels.

“And, why didn’t she come over? Everyone came to the house. But not her, not ever. Mum even had Mrs. Gelcrest over, and she always said Mrs. Gelcrest was mean. Ari’s not mean, Da’. A little strange, and she watches me all the time, but she’s not mean. Not one bit.”

Donnor was silent for a while, picking the mussels. “I never thought this would be that hard,” he said absently to himself. “I’m going to tell you a story, Tommy. I may be a coward for telling it this way, but there it is. I told you I would tell you, and I will. I promised.

“Mikus was teasing me, but he was absolutely correct that the job where Ari and I met was one where all I had to do was stand there, look mean, stay silent, and I’d have earned a handful of gold. She was on some errand involving her training with the mages in Sirikii, that took her to Awyrllyn. Sorry, that’s the name of a small lake near the city of Sirikii, up in the Vale. It’s almost a puddle in comparison to the Serensea, but it has some fish in it they wanted her to get, so off we went.

“Ari couldn’t catch a fish to save her life. I took pity on her, and we ended up spending the day talking while I fished. We brought back a lot of fish, many more than she needed, and she was thankful. We ended up talking about a lot things that day, becoming friends, and eventually I was always the one to guard her whenever she left the city. Sometimes Mikus came along, too.”

“He’s a warrior too?” Tommy asked, leaning up against a rock, having stopped to hear his da’s tale.

“You could say that,” Donnor said wryly. “He wasn’t always a forester either, and his skill with an axe doesn’t come from felling trees.

“Anyway, Ari and I became close friends …” Donnor trailed off, then stopped speaking altogether. Tommy watched as his da’ picked the patch of mussels clean and moved on, seemingly deep in thought.

Tommy followed along, then noticed some tiny lobsters stirred up by his da’s passing. He softly called out to him, and they started collecting them too. They worked in companionable silence, moving slowly closer to the northern end of the island as they continued searching the shore. Tommy began to pick out the sounds of Ari and Mikus building the fire. The cracking of wood, breaking the soothing sounds of the waves gently lapping along the shore.

“After a few years, Ari was pregnant and gave birth to a son,” his da’ continued, still obviously lost in thought. “I left, and eventually found my way here,” he trailed off, seemingly uncomfortable with something he said. “And when Ari came to the village, your mum was upset because she was someone from my past.”

“That sure is one way to tell it, Donnor,” Ari called out from a few yards away.

Donnor looked towards the boulder where Ari was standing, her hands on her hips. She was watching them with narrowed eyes, obviously irritated.

“I’m trying,” Donnor said in a normal voice that Ari obviously heard over the distance. “Oh, hell. Come on, Tommy. We have enough for a meal, let’s go.”

Tommy looked back and forth between Ari and his da’ because Ari was a fuming pillar of irritation, and his da’ looked like he was walking to his doom. If Ari had been a cat, she would have had flattened ears, her tail would have been flicking rapidly back and forth, and a low yowl of warning would have been coming from her throat.

Donnor seemed to gather his courage and asked, “Can I get water for the pot?”

Ari just stared imperiously at him, her lips pinched tightly together as he meekly got the pot and walked back towards the lake, leaving his boots behind with their catch. Ari’s gaze tracked him the entire way in disapproving silence.

“Ma’am? The catch?” Tommy cautiously prompted.

Ari collected herself, her gaze melting into something more congenial as she waved Tommy forward. She pointed to a flat rock where the fish lay, and Tommy put his boots down beside it.

Mikus had made a large pile of driftwood already, and returned with another armload.

“Is this enough to cook with?” Tommy asked.

“It should be,” Ari said. “Let me light it, and we’ll see.”

“I left the fire steel in the boat, ma’am. I’ll go get it,” Tommy interjected.

“There is no need for that, Tommy,” Ari said as some of the irritation returned to her voice.

Ari lifted her hand towards the pile of driftwood and her eyes seemed to gain that inner spark he’d seen before. He felt a stirring of the hairs on his arms as the wood started to smolder and smoke, then a flame appeared, and fire quickly began to spread.

Tommy fell back on his butt, almost peeing himself. “You … what … how?” he said as his words collided in confusion with his thoughts. He sat there, stunned, watching the fire spread with her will.

She was two strides away from the fire as the flames grew higher. Turning back towards him, he saw sparks flickering in the depths of her eyes. And the warm tingling waves he’d felt before, radiated from her as if her hands held his.

“Tommy, I am a mage. I am no longer bound, and will not hide what I am because of the ridiculous superstitions of this land. That is my Tol you feel, the same Tol you moved around inside of you last night in the warehouse,” she said as his da’ returned. “The fact that you can feel my Tol at all means either we have a connection, you are incredibly sensitive, or some combination of them both. There are many things you can do with your Tol as you saw Hesia Durn do earlier today.

“Making a fire start is the least of them,” she said, flicking her wrist dismissively towards the flames.

“You always did go for flashy when you were upset,” his da’ mumbled.

“At least I do not avoid things, Donnor,” she said, obviously annoyed.

“Oh, fer’ tha’ love o’ tha’ gods, simmer down ye two. I’m hungry. Can we be leavin’ tha’ fight, an’ just have it out?”

“Sorry,” Donnor said. “It’s hard.”

Ari breathed slowly in and out through her nose, closing her eyes, then nodded. “I’ll cook, you clean,” was all she said, turning and putting the pot on the fire.

“Mikus, Tommy, help me clean our catch. I’ve got the fish.” Donnor took out his belt knife and started cleaning the fish. Mikus started sorting the mussels into the pot, while Tommy started tailing the lobsters and adding them to the pot as well. Mikus had apparently found some wild onions, and threw them in after Tommy was finished.

“Tommy asked me to tell him about you, Ari,” his da’ offered after a moment of silence, casting more than one uncomfortable look her way.

Ari sighed in exasperation. “Tommy, I am young for an elf. To a human, someone over a hundred years old is ancient. At a hundred and thirty, I am but a child to one of my race.” Ari sat down on a rock, watching Donnor work.

“I’ve been able to manipulate my Tol since infancy, and apparently, I terrorized my maids. But regardless of the issues, I was admitted to the mage college at a very early age. It is dangerous for someone gifted with magic to not be trained to channel their Tol correctly … and your Tol is that magic.

“Many years ago, and just an entrant to the college, I was tasked with harvesting a certain type of fish from a lake. This particular fish has something in its liver that, when refined and mixed with other things, can prevent the headaches a young mage deals with from being unable to channel their Tol correctly while they learn. There were only a few years left till I reached my majority, so the college assigned a man to protect me, instead of contacting my father and being escorted by the family guard.”

She paused, ducking her head. “That man helped me, and we eventually became close. We fell in love, and loved, and over time I became pregnant with his child.”

“Right. And after that, Da’ left and came here,” Tommy finished.

There was a sudden silence as Ari glared into the back of his da’s head while Donnor hunched his shoulders as if waiting to be hit.

Eventually, after a long moment of awkward silence, Mikus asked, “Do ya’ want me ta’ tell ‘im?”.

“No!” Ari and Donnor both said simultaneously, looking at each other in surprise at their outburst.

Donnor sighed, “I’ll tell it,” to which Ari nodded and bit her lower lip.

“Tommy, I left the Vale eighteen years ago, but not because I wanted to. I was banished; the lords there against me. Mikus and his family left with me, something I’ll never be able to repay, and eventually we came here. I met your mum, we married, and her and I lived a good life together until two days ago.”

He paused and looked back at Ari, then turned and seemed to steel himself while meeting Tommy’s gaze.

“But there’s something you’ve never been told. You see, when I was banished from the Vale, I brought an infant with me; a male child. My child. And the woman I married agreed to raise that child as her own. Your mum is your mother in every way of the word, but you are not her child.

“You see, I had fallen in love with a woman before I met your mum. And that woman bore my child, not your mum. And the woman who bore you is right here …

“Arisaylia Saliantrea gave birth to you, son. Not Yella, your mum.”

Tommy stopped thinking.

There was nothing. His mind froze. He looked back and forth between the two. It had to be a joke.

“Very funny!” he said. “Hahaha! Very funny!”

His da’ didn’t move, hunching his shoulders.

Ari put one hand on his da’s shoulder, looking extremely vulnerable. “Tommy …”

“You’re lying!”

“Tommy, we’re not lying,” his da’ said.

“Mum is my mum! This isn’t funny, Da’! Why would you lie to me like this? What’s wrong with you! It’s not funny! Da’! Tell me it’s a lie!”

“Tommy …” Ari pleaded.

“Tell me it’s a lie, Da’!”

His da’ stared at him in silence.

“TELL ME!” Tommy shouted, jumping to his feet.

Tommy’s mind was spinning in a chaotic whirlpool of conflicting thoughts and emotions. First the attack, then how the lord seemed to know them, then the strange way everyone was acting, everyone’s identities, the duel, and now this! It was too much!

Donnor looked like a beaten man, as if he wanted to disappear if he could. Tears formed in Ari’s eyes as she reached out for Tommy with one shaking hand, as if afraid of what he would do.

“Why would you lie to me! Why? Why would you say this?” Tommy’s words devolved into an unintelligible sputter as his mind struggled to keep up with events. He latched onto thoughts of his mum, thoughts of home … the home now destroyed.

“Mum could be dead!”

“Ach, ya’ both have made a fine mess o’ this,” Mikus said, sarcastically.

“Tommy, come wi’ me, lad,” he continued, his accent extremely thick. “Tha’ two o’ ye get yer’ heads outta’ yer’ arse’s. We’ll be back in a bit,” he said, as he grabbed Tommy’s arm and dragged him away.

“Mr. Gemhands, it’s a lie!” Tommy babbled. “It’s not funny! Not funny at all. What the hells is going on! Why would Da’ say something like that? It isn’t funny. Mum is my mum! She could be dead! What’s going on? It’s a lie!” Tommy continued in a panic, his thoughts a jumbled mess, spinning out of control.

“Are ye done, boy?” Mr. Gemhands growled, grabbing him in both arms as he shook him.

“Those two jus’ bared their souls ta’ ya’ boy, and ye exploded like a turd in tha’ jakes! Now shaddup and listen! Yer da’ is still yer’ da’, and yer’ mum is still yer’ mum! Has any o’ tha’ changed?” Mikus paused, glaring into his eyes.

“NO!

“Tha’ only thin’ tha’s changin’ is ya’ know yer’ da’ loved som’un ‘afore yer’ mum and tha’ som’un birthed ye! Does tha’ make yer’ mum not yer’ mum?

“NO!

“Does tha’ make yer’ da’ not yer’ da’?

“NO!

“So, what’re ye upset abou’? Nothin’. Exceptin’ anger an’ shock cause ye didna’ be knowin’ ‘afore now! By tha’ gods, boy! Ya’ gained a member o’ yer’ family! Not lost somethin’!” He choked up a little, giving Tommy another rough shake.

Tommy was shocked by the intensity of Mr. Gemhands words. Mikus had always been gruff; that was the way of dwarves. But he’d never just let Tommy have it like that before.

“Now put tha’ damn keen mind o’ yer’s ta’ work, an’ see tha’ truth o’ what I be sayin’,” Mikus finished roughly. He grabbed Tommy by the arm once more, pulling him towards the southern end of the island.

At first, Tommy’s mind refused to work; just blank in information overload. But as Mikus all but dragged him to-and-fro around the island, his mind started to process all that he’d been told.

He wasn’t his mum’s child, but he was his mum’s. She had the raising of him, the everyday claiming of him, and nothing could ever change that. His da’ was still his da’; he’d never left, never gone away.

The only difference was Ari, who’d always watched him, always gone out of her way to make him feel welcome and comfortable. She’d always been kind. Did she try and replace his mum? No, she’d never done that; never once speaking bad about her.

Tommy had no idea that he was being walked in circles around the southern end of the island for over an hour to come to these conclusions. Eventually, he stopped walking and looked at Mikus.

“I’m hungry.”

“Abou’ time!” Mikus exclaimed. “Blasted humans, an’ blasted elves, canna’ be sayin’ wha’ bein’ right in front o’ them, causin’ more trouble, ‘cause their idiot selves canna’ be sayin’ wha’ they be meanin’ …” continued in a continuous complaint, switching into dwarvish as he went on.

He led Tommy back to the boulder grumbling the entire way, glaring at Ari and Tommy’s da’ when they arrived. The two were sitting together on the spare sailcloth, and they both looked beaten, flinching under Mikus’s gaze.

Tommy stopped and looked at them both, vulnerably meeting their eyes. “I’m hungry,” was all he said.

His da’ nodded, and took the pot off the fire.

The fish had been filleted and had finished cooking on some whittled branches, which were now just sitting near the fire to stay warm. The flat rock became their table, his da’ pouring the cooked mussels and tiny lobsters out of the pot and onto the stone. The fish he brought over, handing one fillet to each of them.

Tommy sat, crossing his legs, and looked at them both. “I’m sorry.”

Ari’s eyes started tearing up, and his da’ nodded uncomfortably as he sat. They all sat and started eating in fragile silence, the meal surprisingly good.

Tommy eventually looked at Ari. His gaze taking her in, wary and firm, all at the same time. “Who are you?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

“That’s hard,” she said, while the tears that had been forming in her eyes leaked slowly down her face. “My name is Arisaylia Saliantrea, and my father is one of the lords of the Vale.

“I met your father and fell in love. We loved, and you were born. My father refused you and your father, and banished you both after your birth. I was all but imprisoned there, and eventually escaped to find you. I had finally succeeded when I arrived at Lakeside.”

“And, Mum?” Tommy asked hesitantly, looking at his da’.

“I came to the village almost a year after your birth. I’d wandered with Mikus until we found Lakeside; Bekka cared for you then, you were only an infant. I met your mum in the village. I loved her, and she loved me, and she raised you as her own.

“We were never able to conceive …” His da’ said after a pause, “and we wanted to. Yella loved you. Fiercely.”

Tommy was silent for a while, continuing to eat as he looked down at the stone table; his thoughts spinning but slower than before. Eventually, both his da’ and Ari joined in and ate their fill, being prompted by Mikus to stop nibbling.

All three of them watched Tommy as they glanced at one another.

It was obvious to Tommy that entire conversations were underway without a word being spoken. Tommy eventually finished his meal and leaned back from the rock, looking towards his da.’

“I love you, Da’,” he said

“I love you too, boy,” Donnor said, choking up.

Tommy’s throat was tight. He looked at Mikus, and then to Ari. He watched her for a long time and she met his gaze, never once looking away, no matter the tears slowly pouring from her eyes.

She looked terrible, fierce, and lonely; all at the same time. And something in Tommy responded to it. He reached out to her with his hand, which she tentatively grasped. The warm waves of her grip were barely perceptible, compared to his experiences over the past few days.

His da’ reached out and took Tommy’s other hand, and then Ari and him joined hands, and the three of them just sat gazing at one another. It was a long, powerful moment that eventually ended as Tommy let go.

“Can I have some more fish?”

“Yes.” His da’ said, passing it over.

“Do you want some?” Tommy asked Ari.

“Yes,” she said through her tears. “Yes, I do.”

Mikus let out a long, relieved sigh.

They sat there in silence and continued to eat. A breeze and the calls of the birds the only sound.

Looking Forward

“So, wha’ happens now?” Mikus asked after a moment of silence, letting their fragile emotions settle.

Tommy and Ari were still looking at one another, both casting soft glances at each other before quickly looking away.

“We help with the ondilaan,” Donnor said, watching Ari and his son discover one another. It was an amazing relief, Tommy finally knowing the truth. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“An’ why we doin’ tha’?” Mikus asked.

“Because the elves are still looking for us, and we need some protection,” Donnor finished.

“Laigan and Lord Maorilan knew exactly who I was when they summoned me to the Hold, or at least they suspected it. I was tired and messed up. I’m years out of practice dealing with lordly people and made one mistake after another. They told me the elves were looking for all of us, and the only way I could get Lord Maorilan to keep you with me was to agree to do what he wants. I got an oath out of him in the end; I remembered that much, at least.”

“Why are the elves looking for you?” Tommy asked his da’.

“That is not a happy tale, Tommy,” Donnor said, picking up a stone and throwing it into the sea. Ari looked at him questioningly

“I love your mum. But before I met her, I loved Ari too.” Ari placed her hand over his at her naming. “And while we were together, we loved one another. Greatly. And we had you.”

Powerful emotions Tommy didn’t fully understand crossed his da’s face.

Ari stared deeply into Donnor’s eyes. “The elves of the Vale are introverted. They stay to themselves, amongst themselves, and though we do not shun other races there is always a space there kept between us. Outside the city it is not always this way. But inside … inside, the old ways rule. And, the closer to power, the older the rules get.

“My father is one of the ruling lords. He is old, almost a thousand years, and to him there are no other ways but the old ways. And they do not have a way for an elf of a noble house to love a human and bear his child,” she finished with pain in her voice.

Donnor looked away and threw another stone in the sea.

She reached up, lightly touching Donnor’s cheek with her fingers. “My father was furious when he discovered my pregnancy. I tried to hide it; staying at the mage’s college, taking as many tasks outside of the city as I could to let me spend as much time with your father as I was able. But there is no hiding a child developing in the womb.

“I feared what my father would do. I expected the fights and the arguments, that was his way. But I never imagined he would banish you and your father the day you were born. All to keep the shame of a mixed-blood child from tarnishing his house,” she finished painfully, stroking his da’s cheek with the back of her hand.

“Your father had become known in the city, and it came as a shock when his banishment was decreed. But my father is lord, and his word carries great weight.

“The last time I saw you before coming to Lakeside was as the guard took you from my arms ... hours after your birth and naming,” she finished, her voice overflowing with anguish.

His da’ reached up and encircled Ari’s hand on his face, then pulled it down to his lap. “I’d not been allowed into the city for months,” he said as he struggled to control his emotions, throwing another stone into the sea. “All I’d known was that the woman I loved was pregnant with my child, and I had not been allowed to see her for almost a year. Mikus kept me busy at the forge; but I barely remember that time, continuously barred entry into the city.

“One day I was at the forge and a troop of elves showed up handing me a newborn. They told me he was mine, his name, and then proclaimed I was banished from Sirikii and the Vale. I was blatantly followed, forced out, with threats from the guard.

“Mikus gathered his family and left with me, something I’ll never be able to forget. Bekka knew what to do with you, thank the gods for that, and raised you with Dawd.” Mikus poked at the fire as Donnor continued, “We found a wet nurse when we could, and fed you cow’s or mare’s milk when we couldn’t, but the guards kept pushing us till we were well gone.

“That was when the attacks began,” he said after a pause, staring at Ari for long moments before again meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“It started with a bandit here, a thug there, but it seemed everywhere we stopped and tried to settle, trouble eventually found us. I will not travel by Gate, so we moved slowly. And as we were pushed further and further away from Sirikii, we came closer and closer to Tatdavarr, and the Gate there.

“As we approached the city it was almost as if word of us had traveled ahead. Some people would close their doors to us before we even said a word. The elves would no longer do business with us. And the thugs, bandits, and thieves continued to attack.

“In one attack, the bandit I killed had a token of Sirikii in his pocket, and I finally guessed what was going on. We were being purposely harassed by someone from the Vale. I’d never met Ari’s father, but I knew he was one of the Wi’Jitikiin. And it wasn’t hard to put it all together after I’d found that token,” he said as he threw another stone into the sea.

“Aye, it wasna’ hard at all, lad,” Mikus said resignedly. “I tried ta’ get ‘im ta’ come wi’ me ta’ Khagatom, me homeland, but yer’ da’ refused ta’ bring trouble ta’ me clan. I be a ‘prospector’ fer’ me clan, ya’ see, ‘afore comin’ ta’ Sirikii, lookin’ fer’ new trade ta’ be had. So, I be sendin’ word we be headin’ west. I knew there be a small dwarven clan west o’ Tatdavarr, an’ figured we could head there lookin’ ta’ establish trade fer’ me clan. If we’d succeeded, I’d a been in charge o’ tha’ tradin’ house there an’ had a safe place fer’ ye an’ yer’ da’ ta’ stay. But tha’ blasted elves followed us even tha’ way.”

“You never told me this!” Ari exclaimed. “Any of this! You were hunted?”

“Not directly, and never obviously, but yes, we were hunted,” Donnor confirmed. “We’d just finished battling some more ‘bandits’ on the road when we came to Redtail. We were low on supplies and stopped to restock. The old lord here, Lord Maorilan’s father, obviously knew who we were and arranged for a meeting. I figured we were done, but all he wanted was a giant beast slain that was killing his villagers. I bargained for a boon, and he agreed.

“We killed the beast, then headed south along the banks of the Serensea in the night. We didn’t have much faith in the lord, but trusted him enough that he would not spread word of our party and deny all knowledge of us for at least a little while. Dawd had taken sickness while we were traveling, and we stopped in Lakeside to rest and recover. Your mum helped nurse Dawd back to health Tommy, which is how I met her. I fished, and Mikus logged for her family to repay her kindness.

“It took a while for Dawd to recover, he’d come down with the dwarven pox, and after a month he was ready to travel again. But we’d not been attacked since arriving there. We talked about it and decided to stay for a while to see if the attacks continued, and our faith in the old lord's word grew when they did not.

“After roughly half a year, we’d built our homes and became part of the village. No one in the village really ever traveled and there was no road nearby, only the path to Torensdell, so I wasn’t too worried about travelers. An old fisherman took a liking to me, Mr. Hart's brother, and eventually gave me his boat to fish for him while he stayed at home. That’s his boat we fish in today.

“I have some understanding of what the old lord did for us and the pressures he must’ve been under for all these years, and I’ll not forget it. I didn’t know he died until yesterday, but I still feel some responsibility to help when asked by his son.

“Rightly or wrongly, there it is; he asked for help. I didn’t want to, but he said the elves were looking for us all, and the only way I could keep you safe was to agree,” he said, that last part while looking at Ari.

“I am so sorry, Ilari.”

“Nothing you could have done,” Donnor shrugged. “Yandun.”

“So, wha’s tha’ new lord wantin’ us ta’ do?” Mikus asked.

Donnor kept staring into Ari’s sparkling green eyes for a moment, before turning his gaze. “He wants us to attack the ondilaan. Get their attention. Take some pressure off the villages and his troops here, so he has time for his men to train.”

“Tha’ be a fool’s errand a’ best. There be no elite guard ta’ lead here, ya’ fool.”

“I know, friend, but I figure if there’re some hunters who’re willing to fight, we can at least put some arrows in the ondilaan. And if I can save another village from Lakeside’s fate, I will. Besides, our arms are still back there, and it’d sure be easier to get to them with a troop at my back.”

“Your arms?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. They didn’t call me ‘Silverspear’ for nothing. I’d found an ancient spear before I came to the Vale. It’s special, and how I got that name. We hid it, along with Mikus’s things, near the village not long after our arrival. Since we’re no longer ‘secret’, we probably need it in case we have to run again.” He threw another stone into the lake.

“Yer thinkin’ tha’ elves be comin’ again’?” Mikus asked.

“Almost definitely.” Donnor heaved, throwing another stone far out into the sea. “They’ve never stopped before,” he said. “Why should they stop now?”

“Ach, I’m thinkin’ ye have tha’ right o’ it, laddie. Though it be a shame, it be,” Mikus said, throwing a stone of his own with a splash.

“So, we head back to the Hold, and hopefully have a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we meet our volunteers, and then leave the next day. I’m not going to put a halfhearted effort into my role here. I agreed, and my word is my bond, you know that. I’ll need your help, friend.”

“Ye’ know there’s no doubt.” Mikus dismissed his statement.

“Aye,” his da’ replied, smiling.

“But what about me?” Tommy asked after a moment. “And Ari?” He looked shyly at her.

“You both are coming with us. You’ll probably become my aide, which means you stay with me and do what I tell you.”

“See, no’ much different than now.” Mikus chuckled.

“Nice,” Donnor said with a mock glare.

“Besides, there’s a lot to teach you beyond what you know from the village. And the first thing … the first thing is how to defend yourself. I’ll need to teach you to fight. Mikus will probably be teaching us all how to fight together as a troop. But you, I’ll be teaching you some, myself.”

“But that’s just me, Da’. What about Ari? What’s she going to be doing?” Tommy repeated, giving her another glance.

“I go where you and your father go, and I will not be kept from you again,” she said. “Besides, you are now open to your Tol, and this is a dangerous time for you.”

“Dangerous?” Tommy exclaimed.

“Yes, Tomilanthus, for that is what I named you. You get your Tol from me, and we awoke it last night in the warehouse.

“Do you remember the moment your Tol wrapped and joined with mine? That was its awakening, and it will now be able to come out on its own. Without training, you will develop headaches that will worsen and eventually go on for days without end, warping the way your body functions from the inside. At its worst, it can leave you debilitated or crippled. However, with training, none of that will happen.

“I would like to train you … if you’ll have me,” she finished, tentatively.

“So, the headache I’ve had all morning is from that?”

“You have a headache now?” Ari asked, raising both eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes, ever since the duel.”

Ari mumbled something in her tongue. “Come here. Sit,” she directed, patting the sailcloth directly in front of her.

Tommy scooted over to kneel on the cloth, and she closed her eyes, placing her hands on either side of his head. The feeling he got from every time she touched him enveloped him like a blanket, warm and relaxing, and he closed his eyes. But it was different this time, and for some reason he felt like Ari was looking for something inside of him. Some part of him awoke and met her searching, and the two feelings seemed to intermingle and join as they greeted one another. Ari moved her hands from his head to his shoulders and then gradually down onto his knees, where she laid one palm on each knee.

“Tomilanthus, open your eyes.”

Tommy opened his eyes and the first thing he saw were hers, encompassing the entirety of his vision. He knew they were kneeling facing one another, a normal distance apart, but all he could see were her eyes. Deep within them was a swirling green and gold radiance, and within that brilliant light were sparks that flitted about with tiny twinklings, like fireflies in the night.

“Give me your hands,” her voice echoed strangely.

As his hands grasped hers, he felt some kind of connection, a bonding, a rightness within. After a while, the strange feeling seemed to wane, and his vision returned to normal. He was once again able to see things around him, and not just her eyes.

“He could be very powerful, Ilari,” she said. “Come behind me, Ilari. You too, Mikus. I want you both to see something.”

“Tommy, we’re going to do something, something that may surprise you. I’m going to bring your Tol, your magic, forth so it can be seen. This won’t feel any different from anything else we’ve done, but your hands will glow like you saw mine do on the boat. Just sit and relax, and let the feelings flow. Is that okay?”

Tommy glanced down at their joined hands, and then to his da’ who nodded it was okay. Looking back to Ari he said, “Okay, I guess.”

“Excellent. Let’s begin. Since we’ve never stopped the mingling of our Tol, the only thing you will feel is an increase in what you are feeling right now.” And indeed, the feelings started to expand and grow inside of him. “Just relax with it and allow it to happen. All it is, is a feeling. Nothing more,” she continued, as the feelings took on a new potential.

He could tell she was pushing him somehow, and the feeling inside of him that was his, didn’t seem to want to move. But eventually something occurred, and his feeling twined with hers in an internal dance that became pulsing and hot.

“Look down, Tomilanthus,” she said.

He looked, and noticed her hands glowing a soft greenish-gold. It reminded him of the light of the sun filtering through the leaves in the forest back home. It was warm and relaxing, and he instantly recognized it as Ari’s Tol in his mind.

However, as he watched, his hands also began to glow. It shared a common golden color with Ari’s, but where her Tol held a greenish tint of life, his was smoky and dark. And the more he watched, the darker it got, until it took on the shape of a black smoky mist, lit from within by a muted golden glow.

“Look at me,” Ari directed, and as he raised his eyes back to hers, her eyes again encompassed most of what he could see.

Tommy could not see what was happening, but the other three certainly did. Tommy’s eyes darkened into a swirling, smoky mist with flecks of gold dancing within, all in front of their natural green luster. It was an eerie sight to Mikus, but Donnor looked on calmly and felt a connection to whatever he saw there in his son's eyes.

The light surrounding Tommy’s hands diminished, and the pulsing heat diminished as well as he felt Ari’s Tol being withdrawn. He could not see the smokiness drain from his eyes, but it did so slowly, disappearing from them as the other three looked on. After a short pause, Ari withdrew her hands, and the feeling of her Tol disappeared, though some of her warmth remained.

“How is your headache, Tomilanthus,” she asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s gone, ma’am,” he said in wonder.

“Good. That is what I’ll be doing as we travel, Tomilanthus. We’ll need to do something like that every day, maybe multiple times every day, and your teaching needs to begin immediately.

“The headaches come from your Tol searching for a way to escape your body. It will try to drive paths out on its own, following your natural pathways. But if it does so unguided, the Tol may go its own way and cause you harm.

“I’ve heard that pathways injured, unopened, or opened wrongly can be cured, but I have no knowledge of this. For now, you need what we just did, and to be led in the Tol’An, a mental exercise to teach you and guide your Tol around inside you.”

“Aye, tha’ be fine an’ all, but wha’ be tha’ eerie look ta’ his eyes?” Mikus asked. “Tha’ no be any magic I ever be seein’.”

“No. Nor I,” Ari answered. “But it is his Tol, and it is him. It is not one of the elements, nor one of the other magics I’m familiar with. I’ll have to think on it. Regardless, the training is the same in the beginning for all mages.”

“I’m going to be a mage?” Tommy asked, a little frightened.

“No, Tommy. You’re going to be anything you want to be, and you’ll always be our son. Nothing will ever change that,” his da’ said, putting his arm on his shoulder.

Ari looked up at his da’, smiling while tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into his leg from where she sat. She turned her gaze to Tommy and began to cry.

“Happy tears,” she snuffled, as Tommy looked on questioningly.

His da’ placed his other hand on her, cupping her head gently to his leg as she gazed on Tommy. Donnor stared off to the west, watching the horizon as Mikus quietly walked back to the boat, leaving the newly forming family in peace.

Saying Goodbye

They’d spent a few more hours on the island after Ari had helped him with his Tol. Sometimes they talked about this or that random thing, but they stayed mostly silent until his childhood came up. Ari focused in on this and became intently fixated and curious about his life growing up, asking some really strange questions.

Who really cared what words someone said for the first time anyway? But Ari attacked this question and others with a singular intensity that caused Donnor to accuse her of being a ‘high inquisitor’. … Whatever that was. Da’ got a glare from her for that comment before she returned to questioning them about things that happened when he was a child.

The whole escapade drew a huge laugh from Mikus who’d come back to check on them, and he went back to the boat chuckling to himself the entire way. Mikus spent the rest of the day fishing as Tommy and Ari learned about one another. And he’d learned that Ari was from a noble house, which still didn’t make much sense to him. At least I don’t have to call her princess, or queen, or some other weird name.

The biggest smile he’d ever seen had lit her face when he’d asked what he’d have to call her. And after settling on Ari, she had turned that smile on his da’ with mischief. She’d spent some time impishly trying to get his da’ to call her ‘mistress’ without luck. He’d taken the ribbing well, only resorting to splashing her with water from the ‘sea when she called him a peasant, which led to a huge splash battle between the three of them.

They’d returned to the boat happy and wet to find Mikus snoring, holding onto his fishing pole. After waking him up, they started to gather their things back onto the boat and Tommy caught Ari looking pensive. His da’ was studying her too.

“Ari?”

“There is something I must do, Donnor.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to say goodbye.”

“To who?”

“Di’ii.”

The humor of the day instantly ceased as everyone turned to her. And there was a pregnant pause before Donnor asked, “what can I do to help?”

Ari met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said as her eyes moistened. She smiled slightly as she leaned her shoulder against him. “As Di’ii’s mother, I must perform a rite so her soul can move on. It’s private, and I’d like you to sit as family.”

“Of course. What else can I do?”

“Nothing, Ilari.”

“There has to be something I can do,” he said wryly.

“There really isn’t,” she said, reaching for his hand.

“But, we’re, uh, family. Now. Right? I mean, that’s what Mr. Gemhands said. Anyway, I’d like to help, ma’am. I mean, if I can,” Tommy offered as he looked back and forth between her and his da’.

Donnor put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “We both will,” he said with pride.

Ari wiped her eyes, lip trembling through a smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly before turning away. She wiped her eyes a few more times and sniffled before turning back around.

“My people believe everyone and everything is tied together, and that a soul cannot rest and return until severed from the living. Right now, Di’ii’s soul is trapped here. Performing the rite allows her return,” she said, her voice dwindling off.

“Return?” Tommy asked.

“Aye. Some people believe differently than we do,” his da’ answered. “In the village, we return the body to the ‘sea as payment for the life it gives us.”

“An’ in me clan, we return them ta’ tha’ bones ‘o tha’ earth, from whence we came,” he said with strange formality.

“The elves are different,” Ari said. “What you see of me is just a shell; something for my soul to reside in. The body lives and dies, rotting away once life is removed. But the soul is different, and goes somewhere to rest before returning once again.”

“Does it really?” Tommy asked in wonder.

“It’s what I was taught, Tomilanthus,” Ari shrugged. “The magic of the elves resides in all our people, this much is known. But my father is old, and remembers the ancient tales as they were once taught. The tales my father told say the elves are all connected, the power we share both a boon and a burden. Our Tol comes from everything around us, every single thing, and because of that, life is precious. But it comes with a cost, being that there is too much for any one race to hold, let alone the elves. My father has always said that elven souls born into the world have already fought one battle, just to survive the power of life coursing through them without burning out. And those that do survive, have magic.”

“Is this why you have magic? Uh, Tol?”

“Well, I’m not sure I believe every tale.” She smiled. “But it’s what was believed in ancient times. There are the names of the ancients, and how they made pacts with the gods to bring the elves into the world. How the souls of the elves are kept. Where they go, and how they return. What they should do and what they should not, while they are here.

“Most of the ancient teachings have fallen out of fashion over the last few millennia,” she said offhandedly. “But even after the gods were lost all those aeons ago, the one thing we still believe is that a soul must be sent to rest so that it may return.”

“Well then, get on wi’ it, lass. We’ll bear witness wi’ ye while ye be doin’ yer’ fancy rite.”

“I’m afraid to try,” she admitted.

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“Because I was bound,” she sighed. “I objected, strongly, when your father was banished. People were worried, and put limits on my ability to use my Tol. I was left with only the ability to heal. Something happened recently to change that, which is the only reason I’m willing to try.

“You have to access your Tol, all of it, you see, to perform the rite. And the rite is certainly not healing. I’ve been able to do a few minor things here and there, but I’m still afraid to access all of it.”

“Why?” Donnor asked.

“Because it’s painful, Ilari. And I hurt myself badly before I stopped fighting the binding.”

He frowned a moment. “So, what happened recently to change it?”

Ari paused and bit her lip. “Our … talk ... the other night?”

“Oh.” Donnor flushed as Tommy looked back and forth between them.

Mikus raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Anyway, since we spoke something has changed. I need to open myself up completely to my Tol, to sever the soul’s connection. This is why there’s nothing you can do.”

“What do we do then, ma’am … Ari?” Tommy corrected, remembering she wanted him to use her name.

“Well, at home we would hold the vigil. Speak about who was lost, share remembrances of times spent together with the family, friends, and the like. Then we would place their body on a pyre made of branches from the Sal’Tehn tree at sunset in preparation for Ar B’ten; the rite. Then we join our Tol together, face the setting sun, and light the pyre as the sun sets. The soul rides the smoke to its rest, completing its journey as the last light fades. But, Di’ii isn’t with us, it’s not sunset, and there’s no Sal’Tehn tree ... so, I have to make do.”

“So, we no’ be toastin’ her till none ‘o us can stand?”

“Mikus Gemhands, I’m being serious!”

“Aye, lass, I know. I be teasin’ is all, as ye well know. Bekka’d have me hide if I weren’t. I canna’ say goodbye ta’ her an’ me boy, but I be knowin’ they be watchin’. They both died in battle,” he said gruffly, “an’ be’ havin’ a place ‘o honor in tha’ rolls ‘o tha’ Clan. I be helpin’ ye say goodbye ta’ yer’ bairn, soin’ ye can say tha’ same.”

She sighed. “I know, my friend.”

Ari looked around for a moment in thought before speaking again, studying her surroundings. “Let’s sit here facing the sun and join hands. Donnor, sit here to my right, and Tommy, to my left. That is the manner that family is normally arranged. Mikus, sit on the other side of Tommy please, in the place where friends of the family would be. Then, I’ll begin.”

Tommy sat and held Ari’s and Mikus’s hands as they all faced the sun, now low on the horizon. He relaxed into the warmth, the sun shining on his face. The small waves on the Serensea lapping against the shore sounded in time with the pulsing warmth of Ari’s Tol he felt through his hand. The wind over the water, and the calls of the birds surrounded him as he relaxed while Ari spoke.

“I have never led the Ar B’ten; I was where Tomilanthus is now when my mother died. My father led the rite then, and it was a powerful experience. When he accessed his Tol, it spread through the entire family from one person to the next. Our Tol responded to his own, joining us together in harmony.

“But neither of you have Tol,” Ari said to Donnor and Mikus. “You are likely the only one to feel a thing, Tomilanthus. And it should be like when I accessed your Tol before, just more.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

“Then let us begin.”

And with those words, Tommy felt the warm waves from her hands increase in pressure. He saw her scarlet hair lift of its own accord, and an inner light came to her eyes. Her Tol reached out and awakened his own before he saw their Tol joining and intermingling in his mind. Then, almost as if the blending had been an invitation, a small part of him left through his hand to join Ari.

“I am Arisaylia Saliantrea, mate to Donnor, mother to Tomilanthus, who bears witness at my side. Mate to Alaris, mother to Di’ii, who has left to move on. By life her soul came to us from its rest, and through life it shall return.”

The warmth of Ari’s Tol lapping through her hand in time with the waves, thrummed against him as the power grew. A comfortable heat built that radiated both inside and outside of him, as he felt something new that was hard to explain. It was as if Ari had opened herself up to him; but not just herself.

There was also something else, some thing beyond her, just out of reach. And that something joined with her in a radiance of light that blotted out the sky. Streamers of light lit the world around him, forming a bewildering array of multiple paths.

He saw one streamer joined to him, and another ending close by. But the others shone far into the distance in a web of brilliance never before seen. It was beautiful, and he was curious to explore, extending out his awareness, setting his first foot on the path.

“Tomilanthus, do not ride the light. It is not for you. This is for Di’ii, to set her free,” Ari said, her voice pouring over him in a mysterious harmony of sound.

As she named Di’ii, one of the streamers stood out. It was a tiny thing, its light flickering and weak. He could barely discern it against the glow of the web around him, but as Ari spoke, it was as if it wanted him to see.

“Di’ii, I love you. You came to me and blessed me. I remember your smell and your smile, your wails when left in your crib, your coo’s when I held you. Thank you for loving me. I will always remember you. I set you free.”

The radiant sun of Ari’s Tol pulsed in Tommy’s mind. A sudden heat flashed along the web, feeding and strengthening the fragile and flickering streamer of light.

“It’s normal for everyone to say something if they wish,” Ari continued. “Remember, this is a happy time; we are saying goodbye to someone who will return. Hopefully, they’ll only be gone a little while, but return they will. If you want to say anything, please do.”

“Ak tom gar turak, Di’ii. Marr ken Drob tonn,” Mikus suddenly chanted. “I be sayin’ goodbye as I would ta’ one o’ me own kin. Tha’ she be remembered, an’ she be missed.”

Tommy felt another pulse at his words.

“Goodbye Di’ii. I didn’t know you well, but I know your mother. I would have liked to have known you more. Al’yn ta tel, Di’ii Saliantrea,” Donnor finished.

Tommy opened his eyes in surprise as his da’ spoke fluently in elvish. Ari’s Tol pulsed with a smoky strangeness as he finished speaking, extending along the web with a pulse of the light in return. Tommy took in the green and gold glow of Ari’s hands mixing and twining with the smokiness of his own. He noticed her other hand was eclipsed by smoky darkness as well, and wondered what it meant.

“Is there anything you’d like to say, Tomilanthus?” Ari asked.

He looked up from the golden flecks of light dancing around their joined hands, to discover her emerald orbs lit brilliantly from within. Their radiance seemed to color the world around him as those same motes of light from her hands flickered within her eyes, dancing merrily hither and yon. But where just a day ago such a display would have scared and frightened him, her gaze seemed welcoming and peaceful now.

“What should I say?”

“Anything you wish.” She smiled.

He thought, turning back to gaze at the labyrinth of light hovering above the sea. He could see Di’ii’s streamer before him; its golden light almost looking at him in anticipation as he studied it. He remembered how small and soft she was. How she smelled like Ari, and strangely, like peace.

“Goodbye, Di’ii. You have to hold someone else’s finger now,” he said, remembering how she loved to grab his fingers. He felt a part of him break off, his smokiness pulsing through Ari along the web.

Ari smiled, her gaze softening and filled with love as she squeezed his hand. “Goodbye, Di’ii. We set you free.” Ari’s Tol brightened, eclipsing everything else with its thrumming power before pulsing once, then abruptly dying down to where it could no longer be seen.

The streamer, once weak and thin, shone full. Swollen with a golden radiance, it released itself from the web of light and drifted free, slowly away to the west. He could hear Di’ii giggle, and smiled at his imaginings as he mentally said goodbye.

He felt his own smoky Tol enveloping him like a cloud with the thought, before pulsing and sending sparks of gold shooting out in every direction. Where they met Di’ii’s streamer he heard more giggles, and he smiled as her soul drifted away.

But where they struck Ari, they rang like chimes before passing through her to toll like a bell from something beyond her. He could feel Ari’s gaze heavily upon him, but paid it no mind as he watched, enraptured, as Di’ii’s brilliant streamer drifted away, knowing she was well.

“She’ll be fine,” he whispered as he finally lost sight of her streamer in the distance, feeling somehow lighter for the experience.

“Yes. Yes, she will,” Ari said, still studying him. She turned her gaze to Donnor, still looking off towards the west, unsure of what she’d seen.

A Nicer Meal

“Tommy, we’re almost back,” Donnor said as he shook him awake. He blinked up at his da’, silhouetted by the evening sky behind him, and stretched.

The red-orange rays of the setting sun came from somewhere in front of them and a little bit off to port. He noticed a Kellit lazily coasting on the breeze near the top of the mast as he lay there a moment longer, looking to see if they had any fish. Kellit’s were found all around the Serensea, and the noisy, mousy-gray birds always followed the fishermen to see if they could steal a snack.

It had been a warm day, and after the various revelations on the island, he’d fallen asleep on the net in the midday sun. But the air was beginning to cool now with the oncoming evening.

I guess I better get up.

He lazily stretched again, then pushed himself up to sit leaning against the mast. He noticed they were almost to the pier as he sat up, and he could make out two guardsmen were standing there. One looked like Keris.

After Di’ii’s rite, they’d left for a short sail to pass the time before returning to the Hold, no one wanting to end their day. Tommy was still a little damp here and there, but the sun and the breeze over the water had done its best to dry him out. Mikus fell back asleep while fishing as they’d sailed around randomly, periodically waking himself up with his snores. So, Donnor, Ari, and him had talked the afternoon away, letting Mikus sleep. Though Ari had been unusually quiet, and she had kept glancing at him from time to time.

Keris was indeed one of the guards on the pier, and he helped them tie up after giving his da’ another casual salute with his fist to his chest. “Nothing new, Commander,” Keris said, as they got up onto the pier.

“Thank you, Keris,” Donnor replied. “Shall we?” He inclined his head towards the Hold. They walked away together, all in a much better place than before they had left.

A group of people were being led out of the warehouse towards the Hold, and Tommy could see benches set up again outside of the inn. Sella was there with the innkeeper and Unris, and he watched her serving the first to arrive. It looked to be more of the thin stew from the night before, but with a different meat this time. It smelled good, but he wondered if it was any better than what they’d had the night before.

As they walked through the buildings past the inn, there was some noise and commotion off to the side. And as he looked, Tommy noticed a group of men working logs into points on one end with axes and saws. Another group of men were digging a trench under the direction of a well-dressed man speaking with a guard. More than one had their shirt off, and those that didn’t had their shirts stained with sweat.

I wonder what they’re doing?

The gate guard saluted Donnor as they approached much more smartly than Keris had, and they continued past without stopping into the tunnel and through the wall. A double line of conscripts was being led towards them out of the tunnel, their leader yelling something about it being a nice evening for a run. They didn’t look too thrilled about that.

The courtyard only had a few people in it this time, who were cleaning up as they passed them by and climbed the stair. The guards at the door saluted his da’ as they passed through the carpeted entry, and back into the Hold’s great hall.

The hall was much busier this evening than the morning had been, and it was filled with the scent of the evening meal. The room was brightly lit, with torches burning in sconces and a cheery fire in each of the hearths along the walls. There were many people either sitting and talking, or moving to-and-fro around the room. Where this morning the people had mainly been the guard or conscripts, there appeared to be mostly families this evening. Some children were sitting around too, seeming to be trying their best to behave.

A guard standing just inside the door directed them to the same table as before, and they moved to join the lord’s party there. His da’ saluted Lord Maorilan as they all bowed and sat with his wave.

“Get any fishing done, peasant?” Arnet asked in a neutral tone.

“Aye. We had a pleasant day. Two striped yellowfins, a bushel of mussels, and a peck of rock lobsters. We had a boil on one of the small islands,” Donnor replied.

Arnet grunted. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.”

“Donnor, we have had some news during the day,” Lord Maorilan began, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. “There have been no more refugees, thank goodness, but one of the fishermen fishing the western shoals sighted new smoke to the south. By his description, it didn’t seem to be another village, but the fact he could see it made him return to report.

“This has led to some urgency for you to deploy your force. I will be moving up your departure to sunrise, the day after tomorrow,” Lord Maorilan said intently. “Supplies are being readied.”

He paused for a moment, looking out into the hall. “I had planned to announce your position to the people of Redtail during the evening meal, but with the shortening of your timetable, I shall not. Sir Laigan has a list of volunteers and others who may be called upon, and your time will be better spent on that than feasting in the Hold. Make your selections and report them to the guard by the tenth candle, and they will be made ready early tomorrow morning for review,” he concluded as a large platter of food was placed on the table by two servers.

“Thank you,” Tommy said to one of the workers, remembering his manners and earning a grateful smile from one of the servers, a very cute girl about his age.

Donnor watched in amusement as the server his son had thanked studied him appraisingly as she walked away after handing out the plates. Lord Maorilan served himself, then everyone else began to fill their plates. “How many are there, Lord Maorilan?” Donnor asked when he’d finished.

“Total possible candidates are forty-eight,” Sir Laigan replied. “Of those, only twelve have any experience with arms. Most are farmers with strong arms and a will to fight. Some others have volunteered that have various skills that could be useful, though that is up to you.”

“Good luck ...” Arnet said wryly.

“I’ve also had a strange request,” Sir Laigan continued without pausing. “One of my guardsmen, Guardsman Keris, asked to accompany you. Do you know him?”

“No, Sir Laigan. We only met him yesterday. But if you release him, I certainly won’t refuse a trained member of the guard.”

“… You’re gonna need it,” Arnet concluded.

“Then I will consider his request,” Sir Laigan said, casting an exasperated glance towards Commander Arnet.

“Thank you. What equipment can we expect?” Donnor asked.

The serving girl returned to the table from behind Tommy and placed one hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she leaned over to refill their cups. She seemed to be making sure to brush his arm with her hip.

Uuuuuh ... was suddenly the only coherent thing going through Tommy’s mind. He froze, watching her out of the corner of his eye with his food halfway to his mouth.

She grinned at him, tucked her blonde hair behind one ear suggestively, before slinking around the table, rolling her hips suggestively as she went.

“Unfortunately, that is an issue,” Lord Maorilan stated after swallowing a bite of his dinner. “I have arms here for the guard, and that has been supplemented by additional weapons and armor brought by the troops of conscripts as they arrived. But I have no armory here overflowing with arms and armor to hand out. Master Girdly?”

“My Lord,” the gnome replied. “What we have for you are basically things intended for hunting. There are bows and crossbows, enough arrows and bolts for everyone, some large knives, a few spears, but that is all that remains beyond what we need here for the Hold.”

Mikus stopped chewing on a drumstick and frowned. “Tha’ no be good news, Master Girdly. Any armor ta’ be had?”

Ari nudged Tommy with her hand to keep eating, and he guiltily tore his eyes from the girl and returned to his food, blushing.

“No, unfortunately not. Though we do have some smaller shields intended for training.”

“Are we’ ta’ forge our own weapons an’ make our own armor on tha’ way then?” Mikus asked in exasperation, looking at the lord.

Lord Maorilan looked back at him blandly with one raised eyebrow.

His da’ placed his hand on Mikus, silencing him. “Provisions?”

Mikus looked back at Donnor, grumpily returning to his drumstick.

“That at least we can supply for you,” Master Girdly continued, eyeing the dwarf. “My Lord allowed us to pull from the trade caravan’s supplies, and we will be able to outfit any you choose with packs, water skins, and necessities, along with travel rations and salted meat. Your limit will be what you can carry.”

“Tents, shelters?” Donnor asked.

“Cloaks and blankets,” Master Girdly replied, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Though we can offer two correts to help carry supplies.”

“What’s a corret, Da’?” Tommy asked, then was instantly embarrassed for speaking up at the lord’s table, when everyone looked at him.

Ari rubbed his back with a smile as Donnor answered, “A corret is basically a big bird that can’t fly. They stand on two thick legs, and their back is about as high as your chest. They’re dumb, irritable, and hard to train, but are immensely strong.”

“Sometimes they be used as mounts,” Mikus interjected. “Tha’ gnomes o’ tha’ hills back home do that.”

“So, I guess then all that’s left is the choosing,” his da’ trailed off.

He popped a potato in his mouth as the serving girl returned and leaned over the table in front of Tommy. She fussed with something on the other side of the table, then glanced up and blushed prettily after catching Tommy watching her. Ari cleared her throat, and whatever was in her eyes caused the girl to scurry away. Though not without glancing back with a smile for Tommy.

“One of the officers’ quarters is vacant and has been made ready for you,” Sir Laigan said, having watched the entire interplay with amusement. “There is some small space there to sleep, with a desk to review the volunteers, and privacy to discuss and make your decisions. Once you finish your meal, the guard there will lead you to your quarters.” He pointed to a guardsman further up the hall.

“Separate quarters have been made ready for you in the tower, Lady Saliantrea. A maid has been assigned to you there for your needs,” Sir Laigan finished.

“Thank you, but that is not necessary,” Ari replied, earning an intense look from Tintafel.

Sir Laigan shifted in his seat. “Yes, well … I ...” before being interrupted by the appearance of a guard. After saluting, the guardsman leaned down to speak privately to the lord.

Lord Maorilan listened, nodded, and stood, waving for all of them to remain seated. “I have matters to attend. Continue your meal, I’ll see you all again in the morning. Sir Laigan, have the list of volunteers sent to their quarters, then join me,” he ordered as he and the guardsman strode away.

“I’ll leave you then also,” Sir Laigan said, finishing his meal with a drink of ale. “The report is in my quarters; I’ll have it sent along shortly. Please stay and enjoy your meal.” He nodded around to everyone as he too strode away, calling a guard to join him.

“I guess there be no sweetmeats an’ dancin’ girls tonight,” Mikus said wryly, picking up another drumstick.

Another server, a man this time, came by the table to check on everyone and took the time to refill Master Girdly’s cup. Tommy, disappointed, looked around for the girl and noticed Ari had her pinned to the wall with an imperious look. Ari turned that gaze on Tommy, and he quickly found a reason to return to his meal, fixing his eyes on his plate before Ari slowly turned her gaze away from him to continue watching the girl.

Arnet snorted. “I have to make my rounds.” Arnet smirked as he too stood, and strode away.

“An’ no arm wrestlin’, duels, or drinkin’ games neither,” Mikus finished in mock distress, earning him a surprised chuckle from Master Girdly.

Tintafel had remained silent, taking everything in during the whole meal as he ate, watching Ari, Donnor, and Tommy intently.

“Let’s finish up, everyone. We’ll want to look at the lists and make some decisions,” Donnor said.

Ari released the girl from her gaze as she turned to Hesia. “Is there somewhere I can go to meditate?” The girl threw Tommy one last look before quickly disappearing into the kitchen. “It’s hard to do while there’s talking going on, and I’d like to channel.”

“I’m glad you said something. The Hold is warded against magic in all forms beyond my own, and your channeling would have set off alarms of an attack. There is an unused room in the central tower on the third floor near my quarters that you can use if you keep your working inside of it. If not, there’s always outside the wall.”

“This room is big enough for two?” Ari raised an eyebrow.

“Easily,” Tintafel replied. “In ancient times, it was a chapel to the gods. With the statues that once must have been there long since removed, it’s mostly used for storage.

“Ta tutiel a Tol, Nisa Saliantrea?” he asked, switching to elven.

“Ku.”

“Anat a rel efelion,” he said, and returned to the common tongue, saying, “It should fit your needs nicely.”

The others sitting at the table glanced back and forth between the two as Mikus groused, “Damn elves an’ their damn secrets, be talkin’ in their damn tongue all tha’ damn time ...” earning another chuckle from Master Girdly, and a giggle from Pipit.

“Donnor, Tommy and I will go to this place. He can accompany me while I meditate there and you go over your lists. Can we join you later?” she asked.

“Sure, you never did like reading reports anyway. And arguing the benefits of this or that selection is dull. Find us when you’re done.”

“I can take you now if you wish,” Hesia volunteered as she stood. “I’m done anyway.”

“Tommy?” Ari prompted, and he hurriedly popped another bite into his mouth, then stood, following Ari and Hesia as they walked to the stair.

The Last Night

Tommy and Ari followed Hesia up the carpeted staircase to its landing, then continued climbing the central stair. Hesia and Ari didn’t seem to be bothered by everyone watching, but Tommy fought hunching his shoulders, imagining everyone behind them staring intently as they left. How do people do this? he thought as he nervously glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen one last time.

After entering the central tower and climbing the stairs a few more levels, they entered a stone room. It had a strangely wide door and bare walls that may have been painted at some point in the distant past. Multiple pedestals stood empty on either side of the room with nothing on them. Bookshelves filled to overflowing lined the walls, and there was a raised area at the end of the room covered with neatly stacked crates. The room wasn’t unkept, but it obviously wasn’t used very much except for storage. Comfortably worn chairs were placed by a simple rug, and an open book was lying open on one. A cool breeze drifted through the open shutters of a small window, looking out at the other tower just a few yards away.

“I am in charge of magical protection for the Hold, and I use this room sometimes to meditate myself,” Hesia said. “Do you plan on doing anything other than simple channeling?” Hesia watched Ari closely.

“No. Just some simple exercises.”

“I see,” she said with some obvious reservations. “Do you mind if I join you?” Hesia more stated than asked.

“Of course,” Ari replied casually.

“Tommy, sit in that chair over there and watch. I know this will be boring for you since you have no magic, but do try to not fall asleep,” she said, her tone suggesting this happened all the time. “Your snoring disturbs me,” Ari finished, centering herself on the rug, then sat.

Hesia glanced dismissively at him and sat as well, though much less gracefully than Ari had. She arranged her rich robes around her, then the two women closed their eyes and Tommy noticed their breathing slowing as time moved on.

Tommy didn’t understand why Ari had said he had no magic as he settled himself more comfortably into his chair. She’d called his Tol magic out on the island, but he caught on that she didn’t want it known for some reason, so stayed quiet.

It was boring sitting there watching two people sit with their eyes closed, and he couldn’t help but compare the two. Ari, slender and beautiful, sat there with her back straight, a calm expression on her face, and seemed poised and relaxed. Hesia Durn was older and heavier, sat somewhat slouched over, and her forehead was creased in concentration. All he could think of was that despite Hesia having fancier clothing, she just seemed ‘less’ than Ari sitting across from her.

After a while his thoughts drifted as he absently watched some of the local birds fly between the towers. They were little things, with light green feathers and a red stripe in the center of their tail. They called sharply and often to one another as they flitted about past the open shutters. One landed on the windowsill, jumping back into flight with a startled squawk when it noticed him sitting there so near. It was then, as he was watching the birds’ flit about in the dwindling evening light, that Tommy noticed a soft light coming from behind him.

He turned his attention back to the room and was startled to see both women surrounded by a visible glow. Ari’s was a bright, greenish-gold that he’d seen before and it surrounded her a short distance from her skin. Once he noticed it, he realized there was a slight sensation of pressure on his skin, and a strange feeling like something was stirring the hairs of his arms. Ever so slightly, something inside him responded. And he felt the stirring of that something twist languidly throughout his body and somehow reach out and touch Ari’s Tol with a mellow sound, almost like the tolling of a bell in the distance.

Hesia Durn, however, was illuminated by a reddish glow that seemed not nearly as bright and hugged her closely. There were multiple shades of red and orange to it that twisted and turned about; sometimes bright and clear, other times murky and dull. He felt a similar pressure when watching her, but it wasn’t as ‘true’, which was the only way he could describe it. That inner feeling of his also didn’t seem to like Hesia’s pressure on him, turning itself away from her and seeming almost on guard.

It was the strangest thing, he thought. And he found watching them while paying attention to varying colors and his inner feelings, fascinating.

After some time, the pressure in the room slowly built as the two mages continued meditating. Tommy could easily see a brighter spot moving around Ari’s body, and somehow, he could tell she was slowly and deliberately moving it from place to place. It almost seemed as if there was a tiny invisible person walking around with a torch, lighting up her body as they explored. He did get a little embarrassed as her breasts were lit, and quickly looked away with his face hot, feeling more than a little creepy.

He wouldn’t mention that, he decided.

Hesia, in contrast, seemed content to let her Tol swirl around in a blurry miasma of red and orange light. There seemed to be some times where a brighter spot developed and moved purposefully, but it came in fits and starts, and didn’t seem nearly as precise.

It was strange, he thought, that he could make these observations while just sitting and watching from a chair. It was also strange that he could sit here in the presence of two mages and just watch them do whatever it was they were doing. All he’d ever known about magic and mages were a few stories a couple days ago that all centered on how many people they killed, and how evil they could be.

Ari certainly isn’t evil, but who knows if Hesia is … What does that make me?

His Tol was swirling inside of him in response to the pressure in the room, and he had to admit it was a good feeling despite what the stories said about mages. He relaxed and enjoyed the experience, falling into a light doze until after about an hour when the pressure from Ari receded.

Ari let out a relaxed breath and opened her eyes, smiling at Tommy as the light surrounding her body slowly faded away. Hesia opened her eyes a few moments later, her light flickering on and off before disappearing altogether. The end of the light from their bodies was followed by the pressure in the room decreasing, then ceasing as if it had never been.

“Thank you, Hesia, for the chance to channel privately. It was refreshing,” Ari remarked as she gracefully rose to her feet.

“You’re welcome,” Hesia replied as she climbed heavily onto her own. “There’s an odd resonance to your magic. Almost like an echo,” she said while watching Ari. “But it could have been my imagination with all the wards now active.”

Ari moved to Tommy’s side and looked out the window behind him, letting her hand casually rest on his shoulder. Tommy felt a hot blanket extend into and around him from her grip that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his Tol. It twined their Tol together, while encompassing them both protectively like a glove. Then, he felt a diaphanous force coming from the room that washed over and around him like smoke, without touching them at all. It was a surprisingly odd feeling, and was almost as if this ghostly force was looking or questing for something.

“Oh, that? No, I’m sorry. That was me. It’s something my teachers had always told me about. I should have warned you,” Ari said casually, turning to Hesia with a self-deprecating smile.

“That must be it,” Hesia said, obviously dismissing it from her mind. Tommy felt the smoke-like feeling dissipate as she turned away. “If we’re finished here, I’ll show you to your quarters.” At Ari’s nod, she gave Tommy another dismissive glance, before leading them out the door.

“Walk with me, Tommy. You know how tired I get after this,” Ari said, giving Tommy a sharp glance after Hesia’s back was turned.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ari nodded, keeping her hand on his arm and walking as if she needed some help from him while feigning a yawn. Tommy wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but even an imbecile could pick up that she wanted him to follow her lead, so he did. He kept quiet as they followed Hesia downstairs, back through the now almost empty hall, down another flight of stairs, and past what must have been a barracks room at some point to a lone door.

Hesia knocked. “Here we are.” Mikus opened the door. “Good night to you,” Hesia said, before walking away.

Ari pushed Tommy and Mikus into the room and closed the door firmly behind them. Her eyes glowed brightly for a moment as she gazed around the room, then the light in her eyes winked out. “We’re secure.” Then she raised her hand making a strange gesture. “And now there are no other magics here. Warded? Hah! The masters in the Vale would laugh. The least powerful among us could ward better than this!”

“Ummm, okay?” Donnor said tiredly, looking up from a small desk with two chairs by it.

“Did you know she tried to get a reading on us?” Ari demanded. “Who does she think she is? An arch magus?”

“Ye be all right, lass,” Mikus interjected.

Ari glared, looking imperious.

“Ye be all right … right?”

“I. Am. Fine. But it was incredibly rude!”

Donnor and Mikus glanced at one another before turning back to the furious elf.

“And to try and spell me as if I was an apprentice only coming into my power? Did she really think I wouldn’t notice? If someone had done that at home, the attempt alone would be grounds for a duel!”

“Is that what that smoky feeling was in the end?” Tommy asked.

“You felt that?” Ari turned her head sharply in surprise.

“Yes ma’am. You both sat and closed your eyes, then you both started to glow. Your glow was much sharper than hers, and you could move your bright spot around while she couldn’t. When you stopped, you put your hand on me and did something that made the smoky feeling go away. I could tell you wanted me to be quiet, so I didn’t say anything.”

Ari’s jaw hung open before a chuckle escaped her lips. Then another. And then she started laughing.

“Ummm, okay? Are you all right? Ari?” Donnor said, confused, looking back and forth between his son and Ari as she continued laughing in delight.

“Tomilanthus, you are an absolute wonder!” Ari said. “Oh, I needed that,” she said, shaking her head after a few more chuckles.

“We went to an old chapel above us to meditate, Ilari. Either Hesia would leave us alone and I could work with Tommy, or she would stay and I could get some measure of her. She stayed, so I did a simple channeling exercise hoping Tommy would feel it and we could talk about it later. Nothing I did should have been able to be seen, and it’s incredibly hard to see someone’s Tol without actively trying to.

“The fact that Tommy could describe what he did points to him being much more in tune with his Tol than I suspected. Which is wonderful! And I certainly did get a measure of her. But what did you see, Tommy?”

“Um, her glow was all reds and oranges. It wasn’t as bright as yours, and swirled around, while yours was just there. I already told you about the bright spot.”

Ari giggled. “Oh, if I could have had you with me in college,” she said, smiling. “What else did you sense or feel?”

“Um, there was pressure coming from you both, but hers wasn’t as strong, and it didn’t feel … right? I could feel your pressure, and it was relaxing, but hers felt weird, and just wasn’t.”

“Oh, you beautiful boy,” she declared with a smile that lit the room. Mirth danced in her eyes as she placed the palms of her hands on each of his cheeks. “You are amazingly sensitive!” she finished brightly.

“Ya’ mind explainin’ tha’ ta’ the rest o’ us? Ya know, tha’ other two people who be here an’ would like ta’ know wha’ be goin’ on?” Mikus groused.

“Oh, Mikus, this is wonderful! Hesia is a fire mage, and most of her skill revolves around the element of fire. Those were the reds and oranges that Tomilanthus described. She’s also less powerful than I am, which is why her glow seemed less.

“Most mages have to actively cast a working to be able to see magic. The fact that Tomilanthus can see and feel it without even trying is wondrous! It will make him so easy to train! And the fact that he can, is incredibly helpful in other ways as well.”

“Like in defending himself?” Donnor asked.

“Well, yes,” Ari said, with some of her cheer leaving. “Definitely. I suspected Hesia would try and read me after channeling as that’s when most mages are tired and open to such a thing. If done correctly, she would have been able to judge my strength in relation to hers, and discover some other things as well. After she mentioned a resonance in the room, I was worried that she’d felt Tommy’s Tol responding to my own and warded us both with a simple shield.

“The pure fact that Tommy could sense what he did,” she paused, “that smoky feeling, is incredible. Her working was quiet and sly, and not meant to attract attention. It was actually rather good,” she finished, trailing off, looking thoughtfully into Tommy’s eyes.

“Well, tha’ be good, right?” Mikus asked

“Yes, definitely.”

“Good,” Donnor said. “We’ve been discussing our recruits since you’ve been gone. There are a few surprises, but mostly we have hunters and farmhands. Do you know why Tintafel would want to come along?”

“Tintafel? Not that I know. He obviously knows who I am, but beyond that, I’d never met him until today. Why? What does that say?” she asked, pointing to the stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

“It doesn’t,” his da’ replied. “This list just says ‘Alarion, scout’, and that is all.”

“Well then, we’ll have to ask him tomorrow.” Ari finished, absently tapping a finger to her lip.

Tommy tried to hold it in but ended up yawning loudly.

Ari chuckled. “I’m not surprised you’re tired, Tommy,” she said, seeing his chagrined look. “Any work with your Tol is tiring, and for you, it’s almost like a muscle you’ve never used. The Tol’An is not only a meditation exercise and a way to channel your Tol, but it lets you work that ‘muscle’ for lack of a better way to describe it.

“Where are our beds?” she asked.

Donnor nodded to the closed door on their right.

“Clothes?”

His da’ pointed to a stack on a chest Tommy hadn’t yet noticed in the corner.

“Is there a bath in the Hold, Ilari?” she teased, causing Donnor to blush. He shrugged his shoulders, working his mouth a few times without speaking which caused her to smirk. “I guess we’ll have to go find one then,” she said, grabbing some clothes and handing them to Tommy. Arisaylia opened the door and pulled Tommy along behind her.

“Come, Tomilanthus. You stink.”

The Run

“Good morning!” Donnor called out. “I have some simple questions to ask, and then we can get started.”

A large group of people of many races were sitting on the grass in front of him, a little ways from the Hold. The dew was still on the grass, and the morning air was cool as they settled down to pay attention to whatever was said.

It had been an exciting morning. After a bath last night, Ari returned to their room and chased both Mikus and his da’ out for theirs, refusing to allow them back into the room until they’d done as she wished. It reminded Tommy of something mum would have done after they came back from fishing. Donnor laughed and went amicably enough while Mikus groused, grumpily stomping off but returning damp and clean.

The doorway in the room that he’d seen before he’d bathed opened up into another room with four cots and soft blankets. And upon lying down, Tommy promptly fell asleep. They’d been awoken early the next morning by a guard knocking at the door and quickly rose, getting dressed.

Ari readied herself for the day behind a blanket that surrounded her cot. Someone must have hung it from the rafters to give her some privacy after Tommy had fallen asleep. He’d been surprised on seeing the ad-hoc screen when he woke since it was only inches from his head. And he decided he must’ve been more tired than he thought since he slept right through its hanging.

A maid entered the outer room and told them that she’d care for their things. And with some dismay, she pulled Ari aside saying she would try and find the lady a proper screen while they breakfasted in the hall. Ari thanked her, smiling at his da’ who sat on his cot and was resolutely not looking at her while putting on his boots.

When everyone was ready, they walked up to the hall and found a simple breakfast awaiting them of bread and eggs; the same breakfast that the rest of the guard and conscripts were eating. Everyone served themselves from large platters on one of the tables in the hall. The food on it being periodically replenished by a server, coming from a door on the other side of the hall that had the sounds of a working kitchen coming through it. Tommy looked, but was disappointed he couldn’t find the girl from the night before.

Guardsman Keris arrived shortly after they did and after offering Donnor another casual salute, handed his da’ a note. Keris said the people that had been selected were eating outside the inn and would be gathered beyond the wall by the time they were done.

Donnor read the note, handed it to Mikus, and thanked Keris. Then he invited him to break his fast with them if he wanted to, which he did.

Keris was good company and full of humor, but they’d eaten quickly and left the Hold with the sun barely above the horizon, the morning crisp and cool. After passing two yawning guards at the gate who startled fully awake as they passed, they walked due west out into the grassy fields surrounding Redtail Hold.

They approached a group of people sitting by a tiny stream, that flowed languidly into the Serensea. Most of the people were yawning, but all were awake, and the chatting amongst them quieted after his da’ finished his approach and stood before them.

“My name is Donnor. Lord Maorilan tasked me to head west and south to check on the villages there. I expect to encounter the ondilaan, and if I do, I will fight them when and where I find them.

“I’ve had some experience leading troops, and plan on being gone a long time, easily weeks. And I won’t be coming back this way for a while, maybe a long while. So, this is what you are volunteering for. Which leads me to my first question: Does anyone not want to be here? If you don’t, just stand up or raise your hand.”

“We’re not here to join the guard?” a voice asked.

“No, this is not the guard,” Donnor replied, and a few men stood. He thanked them, and they walked back towards Redtail.

“Okay, that’s the first question. Next, does anyone have any problems taking orders from a race not your own?” No one moved. “Anyone? Good, that’s encouraging.

“One of the things we’ll be doing is living off the land. Does anyone have a problem sleeping on the ground? No? There may be storms and bad weather. There’ll be no shelter sometimes,” Tommy glanced at his da’ at that, “and there’ll be times you are wet, cold, filthy, and miserable. Any issues with that? I want no complaints that I didn’t warn you.”

Some grumbling started, and a few more people stood who Donnor thanked, before they too walked back towards the Hold. They passed some people walking to join them, but his da’ started talking before Tommy could study them.

“Can everyone here run? In a bit, we’ll all be taking a run so I can gauge everyone’s endurance. There’ll be time to work on your ability to keep up as we go, but if you can’t run at all, there’s no helping you where we’re going.”

An older man and a gnome stood up at this, and his da’ thanked them as well, directing them back to Redtail.

The approaching figures arrived as the two were departing and they turned out to be Tintafel Alarion and a smaller, hooded figure, walking beside the two dwarves he’d seen talking to Mikus and his da’ at the inn. Tintafel and the hooded figure walked over to Ari and quietly spoke with her in elvish, and though Tommy could hear the words, he didn’t understand them. He could tell the hooded figure was watching him from deep within their hood, though, as the three continued to speak, and Tommy wondered who it was. He looked away after a moment, not wanting to be rude, and turned to studying the dwarves who stood quietly off by themselves.

“Good,” Donnor continued. “Now, I see a few races here. Some of you won’t be able to do what the others can simply because of who and what you are. A sprite won’t do well holding a pike; a gnome will have problems keeping up with an elf. This is not an issue. But it does affect how you are trained.

“I want anyone over five feet tall to move over here on my left, and anyone under five feet over here on my right.” He looked towards a fiercely scowling gnome, addressing his anger. “This is just for today and is not some way to segregate you by race, so hold your anger till you know what you’re doing.”

The two dwarves walked over to the group on the right side, quietly talking to themselves in a tongue that mixed guttural sounds with something that sounded like rocks being rolled around against each other in his hand. That must be dwarven speech, Tommy realized, though it sounded distinctly different from what Mikus spoke at home.

“Okay. The group on the right,” he said, addressing a group of roughly ten gnomes, some halflings, the two dwarves, and a few sprites. “You will be following Mikus here on a run. You’ll be gone for a couple of hours and will be meeting us back here when you’re done.”

“The group on the left,” he said, turning to thirty or so people who seemed to all be human. “You’ll be following me and doing the same thing. Anyone who wants to stretch, do so now. We leave in a moment.

“Mikus?”

“Aye, Donnor. Okay, ya’ girly boys an’ manly girls, get yer’ arses off me grass,” he said loudly as if he was being put upon unfairly having to deal with them. “We gonna’ be seein’ if ye can make it ta’ tha’ wee little hill away o’er there,” he said, pointing to a speck on the horizon. “I’ll no be feelin’ bad fer’ ya’ neither as I be goin’ wi’ ye. An’ if I can be makin’ it on these wee little legs, then ye be able ta’ be makin’ it too.

“Get yer’ arse off me grass!” he said to one person who was slow to rise, and then continued to harass and badger the people till they were all standing in their groups and at least attempting to stretch.

“Tommy, Ari, you’ll be in the larger group; you’ll be doing everything they do. Who’s this?” Donnor asked, turning to Tintafel.

“This is the scout, Alarion, who will be accompanying you,” Tintafel replied.

“Well, that’s nice. I’m glad I selected ‘the scout Alarion’,” Donnor replied sarcastically. “Everything they do, he’ll be expected to do as well,” he said, hooking his thumb at the groups stretching behind him. “That starts now. Either he joins a group, passes muster, or he stays here. Your choice.”

“Sa’lak’we,” came from within the hood in a quiet voice filled with derision.

“Excuse me?” Ari said hotly as golden sparkles flared in her eyes. The pressure of her Tol filled the air and pushed on Tommy from a few feet away.

Tintafel hurriedly leaned down to the hooded figure and spoke quickly and quietly for a few short moments. It was in elven again, and the figure didn’t like hearing whatever they were being told. The figure's shoulders slumped, then a sigh escaped the hood.

“I apologize,” came quietly in a strangely accented voice.

His da’ watched the figure in silence for a moment then simply said, “Join your group.” And the figure who was barely over five feet tall resignedly joined the group of larger people, never once lowering the hood so their face could be seen.

Donnor raised one eyebrow to Tintafel, who glanced at Ari, then he just looked impassively at his da’, refusing to speak. They stayed that way for a time until Donnor said, “Fine. He’ll either rise or fall on his own merits.” Tintafel nodded and turned away.

“Tommy? Ari? Join your group. You ready, old man?” he called to Mikus.

“Aye, Donnor.”

“Anyone else want to leave? No? Good, let’s begin. This group, follow Mikus and do what he says. The rest of you, follow me,” his da’ finished as he set out at a slow but steady jog.

Tommy hurried to catch up, then the group settled into a steady rhythm, clumped behind his da’, then stretching out some the further they ran. After a few long minutes, Donnor slowed to a brisk walk. Then less than a quarter-hour after that, they started to jog again. He repeated the cycle of jogging and walking over and over again as the sun rose and the day moved on.

Tommy’s mind fell into a dull fog of exertion where he was mostly worried about placing one foot in front of the other and keeping up with his da’. He’d never run like this before, and was stunned by the relentless pace his da’ set that just sucked the energy right out of him.

When they finally stopped and turned around some unknown number of cycles later, Tommy realized that they were far, far away from the Hold. Redtail Hold was a distant spot on the horizon, and he groaned when he realized his da’ was going to make them run all the way back.

He could also see that people were straggling along behind them, having obviously stopped earlier and were trying to catch up. And the ones who had turned around long ago were heading back to the Hold on their own, were only specks in the distance.

Tommy’s shirt was soaked with sweat and his legs burned, but he refused to give up. Mindlessly jogging along while staring at the ground, he just concentrated on keeping pace with the others out of the corners of his eyes. Sweat ran down his forehead and dripped into his eyes, introducing him to the new and wonderful experience of having sweat burning them.

This is terrible.

He heard his da’ telling those who were still trying to catch up to continue on to the stream before turning around. But Tommy’s lungs were heaving, and he didn’t have the energy to look up to see who they were. He just kept running.

I won’t let him down.

At some point a man bumped into another, almost toppling them both. This earned an annoyed glare from the man he hit, but everyone was too tired to do more than that. There was someone behind him wheezing, sucking in loud, quick gasps of air while trying to catch their breath. And there was a huge man with a greenish tint to his skin who stunk like a mixture of pig manure and skunk, causing more than one person to gag when the wind blew their way.

But regardless of that, the group Tommy was in continued trudging along, refusing to give up. Quite a few people stumbled, many tripped and fell, but there grew a definite feeling of resolve in the remaining group.

“Come on” and “Don’t quit” could be heard amongst the group Tommy was in as they pushed themselves to keep going. At one point, someone tripped again but was steadied by another, before they could fall. Someone was behind the wheezing man, constantly mumbling encouragement not to give up.

None of them noticed the satisfied smile that crossed his da’s face as they continued on.

“All right, we're done! Good job!” Donnor called out some interminable time later.

Tommy looked up through the sweat pouring down his face and realized they were finally back where they’d started. Some more sweat rolled into his eyes, burning them again, as his da’ told everyone to get something to drink, directing them to a pile of waterskins lying nearby. They collectively staggered their way there, some groaning, most panting, to quench their thirst. Donnor joined them, cautioned a few not to drink too much too fast, drinking from one of the skins himself. More than one just grabbed a skin and poured the water over their heads in an impromptu bath to cool down.

“Everyone sit and relax. We’ll be waiting here for the other group and the people who couldn’t keep up, to arrive.” Then Donnor, his clothes stained with sweat like all the others, moved among the group, congratulating everyone. He offered encouragement where he could and advice when needed, and generally made sure he said something to everyone there.

Tommy flopped onto his back with a groan earning a few chuckles from the others, and just enjoyed not moving for a while.

Ari was nearby with the scout Alarion, both coated in sweat, but the scouts hood was noticeably still raised. A few people watched them, appreciating Ari with her clothes stuck tightly to her. But they quickly looked away, shaking their heads at the hooded figure balefully returning their gaze at her side.

Sometime later, Tommy heard people running and rolled over to see Mikus’s group arriving. They were also dripping with sweat, and quite a few looked like they were about to die, but none stopped until Mikus did. Mikus directed them to the water also, making sure everyone drank and rested.

The two dwarves with them were smiling crazily with flushed cheeks, and yelled, “YAAAR!” as they stopped. Banging their chest against one another, their display earned them quite a few tired glares from the halflings, gnomes, and sprites in their group.

After setting his group to rest, Mikus walked over to Donnor and spoke quietly.

Eventually, everyone else caught up, even the people who had been walking. Everyone was resting and sitting together as a group, happily complaining and sharing stories about how bad the run was.

Tommy learned the man with greenish skin’s name was Gart, and he was being teased about how bad he stunk. He wiped some of the sweat off his brow and flung it at another man who cried, “Help! Acid! I’m dying!” with much laughter from those around them.

“All right, simmer down,” Mikus said into the laughter.

“Congratulations, ya’ made it. If ya’ still be wantin’ ta’ go, jus’ stay sittin’ an carryin’ on. If this ain't fer’ ye, come on up here an’ we’ll tell ya’ where ta’ go.”

Only one man stood at this. He was pale and still breathing hard as he staggered up to his da’ and Mikus.

That must have been the one who was wheezing.

Ari walked up to them, placed her hands on the man, and shortly thereafter the man’s breathing eased. This caused quite a murmur amongst those sitting, as those who had seen her glowing hands nudged those who hadn’t to watch. The man thanked her profusely, obviously breathing better, and was directed back towards the Hold as the murmuring increased.

“As you just saw, we have a mage amongst us. Does anyone have a problem with mages? If you do, either decide it's not a problem now, or leave. She’s going.”

“I’ll no’ be trysting with no demon!” a man declared. He spat as he stood, a wild look of fear and fury across his face. He gave Ari a wide berth as he came forward, never taking his eyes off of her.

Donnor’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he watched the man approach. But he thanked the man and directed him back to the Hold with an even tone, radiating his displeasure for all to see. “Anyone else?” He glared around the group, daring anyone to say something.

There were a lot of glances between him and Ari, but no one said a thing. He must have realized how angry he was because his da’ closed his eyes and shook himself, visibly calming down. Then repeated his question, much less threatening this time.

After waiting for a bit, looking around, he moved on. “Again, congratulations. You’ve all covered three leagues this morning, which is no small feat for people who haven’t done that before. This is the beginning and the end of the testing. If you still want to volunteer, you’re in. From here, we move on to what position you’ll hold, get your gear and supplies, and then we leave tomorrow.”

A pair of guards approached as he continued speaking. “Mikus will be sorting you into groups based on experience, size, and prior training. If you have weapons experience, speak up. Anything can be considered a weapon, even simple tools. Farmers have scythes; loggers have axes; hunters have bows. You’ll be getting your weapons along with packs and supplies before we leave.

“Mikus?”

“Aye, lad. All right ye whinin’ sissies, listen up. If ye ever shot a bow, come o’er here …” Mikus began, gathering the volunteers together and sorting them out into groups.

Donnor stood above Tommy silhouetted by the sun and smirked down at him. “Tired?” he asked, utterly unrepentant, obviously laughing on the inside at Tommy’s state.

Tommy glowered up at his da’ and deliberately took another drink from his waterskin while Donnor chuckled.

“Commander? You are summoned by the lord to the Hold,” one of the guards stated as they arrived next to him.

Donnor nodded, handing Tommy up onto his feet. “Come on, Tommy. You’re my aide, which means you rest less than I do. Get a count of how many are left from Mikus and then catch up to me in the Hold. Guardsmen? Let’s go.” He gave Tommy a pat on the shoulder as he walked off with them to the Hold.

Donnor was almost to the Hold when Tommy finally got his count, and he was forced to hurry to catch up, passing a few conscripts jogging the other way. His legs felt like jelly, but he caught up to his da’ before they entered the hall and reported in a gasping breath that forty-one people remained to the amusement of the two guardsmen. His da’ nodded, still smirking at Tommy’s condition, and followed the guardsmen up the right stair. Tommy silently cursed his da’ and life in general, as they continued on up a few more floors and into an office with a thick fur carpet and a nice view.

Lord Maorilan was sitting behind an intricately carved wooden desk that was immaculately polished, with two men sitting before him in richly appointed, high-backed chairs. One was Sir Laigan, while the other was a common-looking man who looked a little worse for wear. Sir Laigan raised his eyebrows at their sweat-stained clothes as they came in.

Lord Maorilan nodded at his da’s salute and spoke briskly. “Events are developing rapidly, and your orders have changed. Darton here is one of our miners,” he said indicating the weather-beaten, brown-haired man.

“In short, the road to Tatdavarr is closed. Beyond the pass, a force of ondilaan has arrived and appears to be taking position to block the pass and challenge the king’s army. I’ve had no word of the force we dispatched to the city days ago, but it matters not. A battle is forming, and I need my forces here in case the enemy force comes west through the pass.

“You and your volunteers will leave immediately and take orders to Resthaven for Sergeant Moran’s forces to return here as soon as possible, forgoing his patrol. You will then take up his patrol on your own before continuing south to check on the villages there, and harass and kill the ondilaan as you can. Questions?”

“Can we draw our supplies before we leave?” Donnor straightened his stance, becoming almost rigid with the unwelcome news.

“Yes.”

“Then I have no more questions.”

“Good. Sir Laigan? If you could take him down to the armory, we can have his men join him at the postern gate.”

“Yes, Milord.”

“Tommy, run to Mikus,” Donnor ordered. “Give him the news and have him bring everyone to the postern gate, which is where?” he asked Sir Laigan.

“On the other side of the courtyard from the stair.”

“Bring them there. I’ll meet you there and we’ll see what we can get.”

“Yes, Da’,” Tommy replied and smartly hopped to his feet, running out the room, back down the stair, through the hall, down the outer stair, through the courtyard, into the tunnel, out the gate, and into the fields. Maybe being the aide isn’t such a good idea, Tommy thought miserably as he approached Mikus and the volunteers, soaked again with sweat, and once more out of breath.

“Mikus,” he wheezed.

“Catch yer’ breath, laddie, there be no dragon chasin’ ye.” Mikus chuckled.

“We’re needed in Redtail. Da’ said to fetch you and bring everyone to the postern gate to draw weapons. We’re leaving now,” he panted, bent over with his hands on his knees.

“Aye?”

“There’s a force of ondilaan beyond the pass,” Tommy finished.

“Ach, tha’ does change things a wee bit.” Mikus frowned.

“All right, sweet cheeks!” he yelled, turning towards the men. “Get on yer’ feet. We be goin’ ta’ tha’ Hold ta’ get tha’ fancy weapons I been talkin’ abou’.”

“Laren! Take Fald an’ tha’ other ones tha’ have their own bows ta’ grab ‘em. Then come back right quick ta’ tha’ Hold. We prob’ly be leavin’ after we get ours, and ye don’ wanna’ get left behind.”

And with a loud, “On yer’ feet!” Mikus led the way back into the Hold.

Preparing for War

By the time they’d arrived back at Redtail, Tommy had stopped sweating and his breathing returned to normal.

Keris, it turned out, had been there standing beside Mikus while Tommy gasped out his report. Tommy hadn’t recognized him without his guard uniform on, and Keris helped Mikus herd the volunteers where they needed to go. Where the conscripts had followed their leaders in neat, organized rows, the tired volunteers clustered in an ever-changing group that formed and reformed based on who was talking to who as they walked.

It’s like a flock of chickens, Tommy realized as he followed along.

Keris pointed Mikus around to the left side of the courtyard as they passed through the tunnel under the wall, and they went around the side of the towers to the back of the structure. There they found his da’ and Sir Laigan deep in conversation, standing by a small open door that people from the Hold were carrying things out of, laying them on the ground.

“All right! Everyone siddown an’ shaddup an’ we’ll see wha’ be goin’ on.” Mikus pointed to a patch of empty dirt against the Hold as he walked away towards Donnor after giving Keris a nod. Keris started herding the volunteers into the indicated area as Tommy, unsure of where he needed to be, quickly walked to join Mikus and his da’.

“... send them in, in groups, and the armorer will give them what they need. Spears first,” Sir Laigan said, and then he turned at Donnor’s nod and entered the Hold.

“Mikus, we’re leaving immediately. The ondilaan have blockaded the pass. We’re getting armed here, then drawing supplies from the warehouse before we march for Resthaven. Do any of the men have their own weapons?”

“Aye, they be gettin’ ‘em from their things, an’ then be comin’ here.”

“Okay. Then we’re ready. Let’s start sending them in.”

Donnor turned to address the waiting volunteers. “Okay, listen up! Everyone who knows how to shoot a bow, move over there.” He pointed towards the wall. “You’ll be drawing bows if you need them, arrows if you don’t have them, and extra arrows just in case. Bowmen will be going last, so have a seat over there and be patient. Ari, can you wait with them please?”

Ari nodded at his request and moved to sit with them, a few of the bowmen eyeing her as she approached.

“The rest of you, you will be lining up and heading through this door single file to the armory, where you’ll be getting a spear, a shield, and a large knife. Once you get them, you’ll be coming back out here where you’ll also sit and be patient until the bowmen have their turn. Then we’ll go get our other supplies down at the warehouse. Any questions?”

No one said a thing, and Mikus hollered, “All right, on yer’ feet! You! Tak, right?” he said, motioning to a halfling who nodded, “Good. Tak, yer’ first up. Head through tha’ door an’ go where they tell ya’. Tha’ rest o’ ye? Short people first, so get up here!”

“Why do they get to go first?” someone called out.

“Why?” Mikus asked. “Because we no’ be so tall ta’ have empty heads filled wi’ air, ya’ dumb lout! Now stop yer’ whinin’, an’ get on yer’ feet an’ make a line!” He jostled all the people from their semi-organized chaos into some semblance of order with the help of Keris. The remaining halflings, gnomes, and sprites followed after Tak while the rest of the volunteers arranged themselves in a line, up against the base of the Hold.

“Tommy,” Donnor called. “Go in there to the armorer passing out weapons and tell him you’re my aide. Your job is to stay there, get a count of what we get, and come out when it’s time for the bowman to enter.”

“Yes, Da’.” Tommy hurried through the small door and into the Hold. He had to turn sideways to squeeze past the line of people in the narrow hall but eventually found himself in a large room filled with weapons and armor of all types. There were swords, spears, axes, bows, crossbows, and armor of all kinds in neat rows, all around the room.

An angry-looking dwarf was staring at all the equipment possessively, while tugging on his beard in frustrated anxiety. Sir Laigan was standing beside him talking, while the dwarf kept looking back and forth between Sir Laigan, the waiting volunteers, and all the weapons around the room. Standing at various points around the room were a few more people that looked to be the dwarf’s helpers, who were obviously trying not to draw the dwarf’s attention.

“... talked about this, Kored, and you have your orders,” Sir Laigan was saying.

“Aye’me’laird,” the dwarf replied with a sigh of defeat, in an accent so thick it was barely intelligible.

Tommy walked up nervously to Sir Laigan and the dwarf. They looked at him expectantly; Kored, the armorer, bestowing on him an impressive glower.

“Uhhh, my Da’, err Donnor, sent me in. I’m his aide. He wanted me to keep a tally, and then tell them when we’re ready for the bowman,” Tommy stuttered out.

The dwarf sighed at this and looked up at the ceiling muttering to himself in his own tongue, before looking back at Tommy. “Ge’over’thar,” he said through his bristling beard, pointing one stubby finger to a place on the wall near the door. Then he turned, and in a ferocious growl, started ordering his workers about, who seemed to have no problems understanding his barely intelligible words.

After getting people moving about to his satisfaction, Kored stomped away. He was talking and replying to himself in an angry mutter about “his weapons” while the volunteers started filing in following Tak. The workers began giving instructions and handing out equipment as Kored’s angry muttering was cut off as he slammed a door.

Sir Laigan watched the slammed door with one raised eyebrow for a while, before leaving the room and walking deeper into the Hold.

Each volunteer was given a spear, a shield, and a knife with a sheath. The spears were long, but not as long as the guard’s were, and Tommy realized they looked more like the boar spears the hunters sometimes used in the village back home. There was a simple round shield of wood rimmed in iron with leather straps and a long sling. And finally, sheathed in leather was a wicked and mean-looking knife that was almost as long as Tommy’s forearm.

There was some jostling and near-accidents as the people juggled the unfamiliar equipment while leaving the room, but there were no injuries. Ultimately twenty-four sets were handed out, and Tommy followed the last man out to report this off to his da’.

He ducked back into the room with his da’ gesture of acknowledgement that the first group was done, and returned to his place. Next, the bowmen started filing in, most of them holding their own bows. Extra strings were given to the people with bows, and the people who didn’t have their own were given simple bows as well. They looked like the hunting bows back home, only fancier and more polished. Everyone was given a quiver filled with arrows, the same knife as the group before, and a tied bundle of arrows that Tommy figured were extras in case they needed them. After they received their supplies, Tommy followed them back out and reported the thirteen sets they’d received with another nod from his da’ in acknowledgement.

The volunteers were sitting in the same groups they started in when another person from the Hold exited the door and spoke to his da’, who nodded and then said something to Mikus.

Mikus turned to the volunteers. “All right! Stop playin’ wi’ tha’ damn spear before ye get it stuck in yer’ arse! Stand up! Put tha’ knife in its sheath, dammit! Put tha’ sheath ye be given wi’ tha’ knife IN IT on yer’ belt, an’ leave it alone!

“By tha’ lost gods, did ye cut yerself already?” Mikus exclaimed as he stomped over to the unfortunate soul who was bleeding and now the center of Mikus’s attention.

As Mikus continued to berate the man, the volunteers got themselves together while another group of people came out of the postern gate. They were carrying empty packs, blankets, and cloaks, and started stacking them on the ground outside the door. His da’ walked over to stand by the growing pile and waved to Mikus to get his attention, who nodded, finishing his tirade over the now thoroughly cowed man.

“Everyone! Go o’er there an’ get one pack, one blanket, an’ one cloak! Be quick about it. We got ta’ be leavin’ soon an’ I dinna’ be havin’ all day.

“Gah! Just grab one dammit,” he hollered at one of the men who was sorting through the cloaks. “Ye can worry about how fine ya’ look later!”

Keris moved over to the gear and helped hand it out with a grin, obviously enjoying the dwarf’s endless verbal assault.

“Does tha’ one meet yer’ satisfaction, yer’ highness?” Mikus demanded as an unfortunate gnome was caught taking in how he looked. “Move, damn ye! Don’ glare at me, I don’ be carin’. Move yer’ arse, I say!” Mikus continued in an ongoing tirade as everyone moved quickly through the line, most seeming to prefer avoiding Mikus’s sharp tongue.

Sir Laigan came back out of the gate a moment later and strode over to talk with Donnor.

Tommy wasn’t quite sure what to think of Mikus, who seemed to be enjoying himself yelling at everyone. But it sure was an effective way to get a bunch of people to do what he wanted them to as he watched another man attract the dwarf’s undivided attention. Tommy walked over to his da’ and refused to admit it was because he was a little scared of Mikus right now.

“Everyone got ‘em? Good! Okay. We gonna be packin’ it up now. Everyone put on yer’ cloaks. Tha’ open end goes in front if ye don’ be knowin’! Har, har, har! Now, tha’ blanket be getting’ rolled an’ tied by tha’ two strings at tha’ bottom o’ tha’ pack. Tha’ bottom, ya’ dumb lout! No’ tha’ end ya’ put things in!” Mikus yelled to one of the humans. “Be getting’ it tied there an’ then put it on yer’ back an’ stand up when yer’ done.” He moved among the volunteers, offering harassment and assistance as needed.

Sir Laigan was telling his da’ food and waterskins were being readied down at the warehouse and would be ready to go by the time they arrived. His da’ nodded and waved Ari over. “Would you let Mikus know that Tommy and I will draw his weapons? We’ll leave for the warehouse once we’re done.”

“Yes, Donnor,” she said.

With that, Donnor motioned for Tommy to follow him back into the Hold. As they walked away, Mikus continued his verbal barrage or instruction, Tommy wasn’t quite sure which it was anymore.

“Tha’ shield be havin’ a long strap tha’ goes across yer’ chest, so it be hangin’ on yer’ back. Do that now. Good! Now stand up an’ hold yer’ spear wi’ tha’ pointy end UP IN THA’ AIR!” he shouted. “Fer now, be usin’ it like a walkin’ stick, but keep tha’ pointy end UP IN THA’ AIR,” he shouted again. “I don’ be wantin’ yer’ spear in me arse!” was the last clear thing Tommy heard as he walked back into the Hold.

They returned to the armory, where there were now many bare places lining the walls. The dwarven armorer was sitting on a stool in the middle of the room holding a mug of ale with a tear rolling down from one eye, looking blankly at one of the bare spots on the wall like he was attending a funeral. One of his assistants patted him on the back and said something to him while another provided a spear, shield, and knife to Tommy and his da’, then handed a second set to Tommy for Mikus.

He had Donnor sign some papers, then glared at his da’ when he insisted on a copy for himself, but he complied and handed the copy to Tommy. Tommy juggled his load awkwardly to take it, but he eventually got himself straightened out without dropping anything as he followed his da’ back outside.

“Tommy, put our packs together like Mikus said.” His da’ pointed to the remaining packs, and Tommy walked over and did his best.

Donnor walked over to where Mikus was standing, now in front of two semi-neat rows of the volunteers. Ari was standing with Mikus, and they confirmed that everyone was ready to go as Tommy finished tying on the blankets. Keris was called over, and the four spoke for a while, then his da’ called out, “Everyone, we’re moving to the warehouse to pick up the last few things, and then we’re leaving.”

Mikus walked over and took his equipment, nodding in thanks to Tommy before putting it on smartly as if he’d been doing this his entire life.

“Everyone in this line, this is Guardsman Keris. For now, follow him and do what he says,” Donnor continued. “Everyone in this line, you follow Mikus and do what he says. Any questions?” No one spoke. “Good. Mikus, take them out. I’ll follow behind.”

“Aye, lad. Everyone tha’ be havin’ a bow put it in yer’ right hand. Everyone tha’ be havin’ a spear, be puttin’ it in yer’ right hand, too. An’ keep it there! Tha’ right hand be this one if ya’ didna’ know!” Mikus held up his right hand. “And be keepin’ tha’ pointy end UP IN THA’ AIR! Try ta’ be walkin’ side by side, or I be unhappy with ye! Keris, let’s be goin’ at a walk.”

Mikus led them back around the corner of the Hold, with Keris matching his pace at his side. The volunteers tried their best to stay in formation, but were sloppy compared to the conscripts that Tommy had seen. The issue was the volunteers talking to one another and looking around, while pointing at this or that thing as they went.

Donnor walked over to Tommy, put on his cloak, and took up his pack, motioning for Tommy to do the same. Ari walked over with a pack and a cloak also, but no weapon beyond a knife that he could see. His da’ pulled his shield strap over his chest, helping Tommy get his settled.

“Hold your spear like this. Right now, use it like a walking stick. It’ll be awkward because of its height, and you’re not used to it. Whatever you do, don’t let the point drop down or you’ll end up stabbing someone. If you have to jog, use both hands. For the rest of the day, you stay by Ari and don’t leave her side, understand? Good. Ready? Ari, let’s go.” After receiving her nod, he turned and strode off after the volunteers, who were just leaving the courtyard as they caught up.

Tommy stayed beside Ari as they followed his da’, who was hurrying along some of the volunteers who’d fallen behind. “Let’s catch up,” Ari said, and they moved quickly until they were walking beside the two lines of volunteers near its end.

They traveled this way through the Hold and the buildings outside until they got to the warehouse. Some guardsmen were resting by a few open crates and stood as they approached. A group of people who were most likely refugees like themselves, also stood up and started pulling wrapped packages out of the crates. Nearby, another group of people were standing next to a pile of waterskins.

Mikus and Keris stopped beside the guardsmen, and the people with the supplies put one package and one waterskin in each of the men's packs before grabbing another set and repeating the process, ensuring everyone got one of each. When they got to Tommy and Ari, he learned they were travel rations and water, which added a not-insignificant amount of weight to his pack, the extra weight adding to his misery.

This is starting not to be fun.

Donnor had been speaking with the guardsmen at the head of the line nodding at whatever he was being told. Then he asked Mikus something, before calling out, “Alarat! Camm! Get out of line and come here.” With that, two gnomes stepped out of their lines and walked up to his da’, then followed him around the side of the warehouse.

Tommy saw Gart, who stood head and shoulders taller than everyone else, absently scratching his head on the side of the spear as he looked around. A few of the volunteers seemed uncomfortable standing close to him, which Tommy thought was odd. But Tommy was still tired from the run, so he decided it was just sore bodies and Gart’s strange odor.

Eventually, there was a loud trilling squawk, and his da’ reappeared with the gnomes who were leading two huge birds by a leather harness. They were easily taller than his da’, with huge, meaty, powerful legs ending in five thick-toed claws that looked dangerous and deadly. Long serpentine necks were topped by small heads that ended in a strange, sharply hooked beak that looked something like an adze. Two large golden eyes on either side of their head were like any other eye beyond how big they were, but there were also two smaller eyes which were red, and centered immediately above the beak. The combination gave the creatures face an almost insectile appearance that was intimidating and queer. Long, thin feathers draped over their bodies, fading from gold to brown from their crest to their feet that fluffed out as they walked.

When the gnomes stopped, the huge birds stopped also, and their heads swiveled around taking in the line of men. It was dizzying watching their heads move. Their necks seemed not to have any joints at all, being able to twist and turn in any direction, making their heads bob and weave chaotically. One of the creatures moved its head outside around its leg before twisting it to nip at the back of an ankle, while the other one raised its neck as high as it could, peering at the men with one eye.

“For those of you who don’t know, these are correts and will be carrying our supplies. They’re mean and will bite, so don’t try to pet them,” Donnor finished, after watching one man reach out his hand. The hand was promptly nipped by the watching bird, earning a whack from the gnome handler’s spear as the man yanked his hand back with an “Ow!” The corret kept watching the man as he shook his hand, while the others chuckled at his misfortune.

The gnome handlers commanded the correts to sit down with a few taps from the butts of their spears, and they did so with some trilling complaints. They folded their legs and settled onto the ground to look like two, big, hairy balls of fluff with a snake coming out of one end. Tommy noticed the correts had a system of leather straps around their bodies, which the gnomes moved to adjust.

Sella arrived from behind them with Unris carrying more packages, and her eyes widened as she saw Donnor, Ari, Mikus, and himself. She didn’t say anything, but continued looking on with surprise as she passed the packages off to the gnome handlers who started arranging them on the correts’ backs. While she was doing that, some other packages were brought out of the warehouse and packed onto the correts as well.

As this was going on, the volunteers were given the opportunity to go into the warehouse and get anything of theirs they wanted to take along before they left. Most of the men left, but a few stayed looking longingly away to the south.

Ari stepped out of line and walked over to Sella. They hugged and talked for a moment before Ari waved him over. “We’re going to be gone for a while, you should say your goodbyes.”

“Where’re you going?” Sella asked, eying the ranks.

“Lord Maorilan asked Da’ to take the men to Resthaven.”

“Resthaven! Whatever for? And why are you going? Your mother’d have a fit!”

Tommy glanced uncomfortably at Ari after the mention of his mum. “There’s some men there the lord needs. My da’s going to take their place and help out the town so Lord Maorilan can end the trouble for all of us.”

“But why you?”

“I’m not leaving my da’, and I won’t let him down. Eventually, Da’ said we might go back to Lakeside.”

Sella gave him a crushing hug before holding him at arm’s length. “Lakeside! By the gods, be safe! We lost so many!”

“We will, Sella. Say goodbye to Faltor for me, will you?”

“And say goodbye to the others,” Ari added.

“I will!” she said as Unris approached.

“We need ta’ be gettin’ back to the Cup now, miss,” Unris said.

“Be safe!” Sella said, as she followed Unris back into town, continuously glancing back at them and the men.

Ari put a comforting arm around Tommy’s shoulders as he watched Sella walk away, his chest tight.

“We probably won’t ever see her or the others again, will we?” he asked.

“No, Tomilanthus. Probably not.”

Sometime later, Sir Laigan arrived with a few of the Redtail Guard and walked up to his da’, handing him some papers which his da’ took. They talked for a time, his da’ nodding often, then he offered Sir Laigan a salute which the knight returned. Tommy heard his da’ say something about their boat he couldn’t quite make out and the two men shook, after which Sir Laigan walked away with his guardsmen in tow.

Donnor motioned to the gnome handlers, saying something. They stood, got their correts standing also, and moved with them to the back of the line.

Donnor turned to the group and said, “We’re ready. Mikus, we head west to Resthaven. Let’s go.”

And with that, Mikus led off with Keris beside him, and the rest of the volunteers following along behind.

A New Member

Keris, familiar with the area, guided them along a wide path, heading steadily west most of the afternoon and into evening.

After passing out of sight of Redtail Hold, the terrain turned from the scattered farmland around the Hold itself into rolling plains intermixed with groves of trees, that slowly grew in number the further they went. Knee-high grasses surrounded them, and they periodically startled small birds and other creatures as they walked.

It was a nice day, but their unaccustomed load mixed with the morning run quickly wore them down. Tommy wasn’t sure about anyone else, but the straps from his pack were digging into his shoulders, pinching them uncomfortably.

He also found that almost no matter what he did, the shield strapped to his back kept banging him in the back of his thighs as he walked. More than one person griped about that, and there was a discussion going on up and down the ranks on how to fix the issue. Gart just grinned at the complaints since he was so tall the shield barely passed his waist.

Regardless, everyone was exhausted by the time they stopped that evening. The sun was setting when they finally came to a halt in one of the larger groves of trees that the path wound through. It was cool and dim under the trees, whose broad, flat leaves blocked most of the light from the setting sun. A faint sound of tinkling came from a rivulet of water flowing by, and a light breeze cooled the air.

His da’ directed Mikus to stop, and Mikus called out, “All right everyone, we be stoppin’ here fer’ tha’ night. Keris, get a couple o’ people an’ find firewood. Tha’ rest of ye be still fer’ a moment, and we’ll figure this out. Don’ be breakin’ out yer’ blankets yet, jus’ have a seat,” he said, before walking over to his da’.

Keris had four people get up and start gathering wood, then he moved back over to join Donnor and Mikus. They spoke for a while, and Donnor turned to address everyone.

“I know everyone is tired and wants to eat and then get some sleep, but we’re not in the Hold any longer, and we need to stay safe. We’re out here to find the ondilaan after all, and it’d be a shame if they found us first while we’re all sleeping,” he said wryly.

“So, the first thing we need is watchers, and people in charge of them. For tonight, if you’re a hunter, you have watch. You’re used to spending time by yourself outdoors, and I need your experience to keep everyone safe. Keris, gather them up and get them sorted.”

Keris nodded at Donnor then stood, motioning the hunters to follow him.

“The rest of you need to have some organization, which we’ll be working on as we go,” his da’ continued. “Mikus, get them grouped into two ranks, get a fire started for each rank and get them to their dinners. Our corret handlers need to water their charges and get them settled for the night, so have some people help them out while you’re at it.”

“Aye, Donnor,” Mikus answered. “Okay, everyone see tha’ tree there? Lean yer’ spears against it, then c'mere an’ have a seat and we’ll get everythin’ sorted out.”

Donnor walked over to Ari and Tommy. “Tonight is going to be rough,” he said with a yawn. “Everyone is tired, and sleeping on the ground is not fun even when you’re used to it.

“I need you two to move over there.” He motioned a little way away from the two ranks of volunteers that Mikus was forming. “Start a small fire of your own and roll your blankets out around it. Wait to break out your food until we get them eating,” he said, nodding to the volunteers again. “But feel free to have a drink.

“I know you don’t need a guard,” he said to Ari, “but I’d feel better if Tommy didn’t leave your side for now. I don’t want any problems with superstitious people and your magic. Until they get used to you, I’d like you not to use it either, unless I ask. I have enough problems, and dealing with superstitious drama is something I don’t need.”

“Are you sure, Ilari? I know more than how to heal, and with the binding gone I can use my Tol in combat as you well know. I can be a huge asset to you, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m sure, and I have no doubts you could. You already are,” he said with a smile. “Just stick to healing them for now until they get used to you. I’ll be bringing Mikus and Keris over in a second.” And with their nods of acknowledgement, he stood and returned to the men.

Tommy and Ari did as Donnor asked, moving into the trees a little ways to get enough wood to start a small fire. Ari had an intent look on her face as they gathered the wood, then seemed to decide on something and stood. Lazily looking around, she stood there, patiently, silently drawing the attention of the men.

Then she started the fire with her Tol.

She stood there defiantly with the fire growing under one raised hand, but everyone was too tired to more than glance at the spectacle before going back to what they were doing. She turned her head, looking at his da’ with one raised eyebrow. He returned her look with a wry smile on his face, before snorting and turning away.

Ari, looking smug, turned back to Tommy. She raised one eyebrow at him as well, and he decided it was best to just not say a thing. They rolled their blankets out beside each other, then sat and drank, waiting for the others to join them while Ari leaned back against a tree.

After a while, Mikus and Donnor sorted out the volunteers to their satisfaction into two groups of roughly the same number of people, and each group had their own fire burning. They directed the men to break out their food and eat, and arrange their blankets around the fires for warmth before turning in for the night. The two gnome handlers got the correts to sit off to the side out of pecking distance, and spread their gear near them, settling in.

After getting the men settled, Donnor and Mikus moved to join Ari and Tommy. They were obviously tired, but gamely made sure everyone else was taken care of before themselves. Keris joined them after returning from taking the hunters out into the grove and setting the watches.

“Sentries are placed, Commander,” Keris said with a casual fist to his chest.

Donnor waved the salute quickly away. “None of that out here. From now on, I’m Donnor unless there’s someone around to impress. We’re irregulars, not Redtail Guard, and ranks won’t hold much importance to these men.” Kerris nodded. “Roll your blankets out and grab some food. Since I’m Donnor; you’re Mikus, and you’re Keris. Learn everyone’s names.

“Everyone goes through the two of you before they come to me, and it’ll work the same in reverse. If there’re screw-ups, it’s not a big deal, but try to keep it from them, to you, to me. I’ll start referring to everyone collectively as ‘the troop’, and that’s about it for the troop’s structure for now,” he said as Keris and Mikus broke out their gear.

A couple of the volunteers were already snoring, their feet pointed towards their fires as he paused to look over the men.

“We’re about a day from the closest sightings, so we need to get the troop organized and ready to combat a handful of ondilaani warriors at least, before tomorrow night. It’ll be ugly and extremely rough, but it’s doable,” his da’ said with a sigh.

“I’ve pushed everyone today on purpose so that they’re tired enough just to listen. Mikus, tomorrow we’re going to start to do it the dwarven way: march, rest, train and repeat. Do we have enough of the smaller races to form a complete rank?” Donnor asked.

“No, laddie. A squad an’ a half, but no’ a complete rank.”

“All right, that’ll make it difficult splitting them up, but we’ll do what we can. I want one rank of the smaller folk, so the other, especially Gart, can just stab over their heads. If that doesn’t work, we’ll change it as we go,” his da’ ordered. “I’ll need the spears trained to work in pairs, or in threes, but we’ll figure that out hopefully tomorrow. The archers will obviously be separate and work in pairs. Does anyone else besides the two of you have any experience as a guard or an armsman? I need someone to lead the archers.”

“Alarion has some experience, Donnor,” Ari interjected, after no one said anything.

“The one with the hood?” Keris asked. “He seems moody and distant to me. I’m not sure he’d be a good choice.”

“That can be dealt with, and I think now is a good time for that to happen,” Ari said consideringly. “Where is Alarion now, Keris?”

“On the northern end of the grove.”

“Can Alarion be replaced for a bit?”

“Yes … should I?” Keris looked back and forth while Donnor and Mikus studied her.

“Yes, I think you should. And, now is a good time. Send someone for Alarion please.” She smiled at the questioning look she was getting from both Mikus and Donnor.

“I’ll get him myself,” Keris replied and walked off, returning shortly thereafter with the hooded figure in tow.

Ari motioned Alarion to sit beside her, which the hooded figure did with obvious reluctance while Keris returned to his seat.

“Iil ten aver’in a sel, J’al’osil Alarion,” she said, speaking in elven while gazing into the hood.

“Nisa Saliantrea …” Alarion began quietly.

“Alarion … iil ten?” Ari replied, cutting off whatever Alarion was going to say.

The figure sighed, then slowly pushed back the hood, revealing a surprise.

Alarion was not a he; he was a she.

She was obviously an elf. But as Tommy looked on, it was also obvious she was something more. Her pale skin was covered with a fine, downy pelt of almost invisible hair that glimmered in the firelight. Peeking through her neatly plaited golden hair were two sharply pointed ears that moved to turn slightly backward. As she glanced defiantly around the group, Tommy noticed her eyes were slitted like an animals. And as they caught the light, they glowed, reflecting the firelight in the darkness.

“Saress is Tintafel’s ward. He said she’s been trained as a pathfinder,” Ari said.

The three men stared for a bit, especially Keris, who was obviously stunned. Taking her in with wide eyes, Keris eventually uttered, “What’s a pathfinder?”

“We hunt. We watch. We find,” Saress replied dismissively.

Ari raised one eyebrow and looked at her with ‘that look’ that only women can give. Saress caught the look and sighed, her shoulders drooping as her ears flattened. Ari continued watching her before finally saying, “Pathfinders are the scouts for the army.”

“Whose army?” Donnor asked.

“The army of the Vale,” Ari replied.

Saress continued to stare at the ground in front of her, clenching her jaw.

Donnor raised his eyebrow in question. Eventually, Saress raised her eyes as well, saw it, and nodded.

“Do you have experience leading troops?” Donnor asked.

“No. I led my toulon, nothing more,” Saress replied, looking back down at the ground in front of her.

“Her toulon would be basically a squad, Donnor. They operate independently for long periods,” Ari said when Saress did not offer anything more. Tommy saw Saress’s jaw clench even more after Ari’s explanation.

“Can you teach?” Donnor asked.

“Yes,” Saress replied quietly.

“Then the archers are yours until you screw up or I find someone better,” Donnor said, getting a surprised look from Saress. “I need experience, and you have it.

“You have what Mikus would kindly call ‘an attitude’; I don’t care. Figure it out on your own. I can’t lead this troop, train the men, figure out our strategy, teach, and meet all our other needs all on my own. Tonight, return to your watch. Tomorrow, you’ll be in charge of the archers after I announce it at breakfast. Any questions?”

“No, Commander,” she said in a quiet, sibilant voice.

“Donnor.”

“Commander?” she asked.

“From now on, I am Donnor unless there’s someone to impress. This isn’t the army.”

Saress stared at him for a time, her ears moving forward and back, then nodded while quietly replacing her hood and walking away.

After a moment of silence where they all watched her go, Donnor asked wryly, “Ari. Ilari. Do you mind possibly telling me what you might know?”

Ari smiled. “There wasn’t time. According to Tintafel, Saress was stationed in Sirikii before coming to Redtail Hold about a year ago. She is a member of his family through adoption, and considered his ward. He is ultimately responsible for her. Beyond that, and her military bonafides, I know nothing more.”

“Ach, she be a spy fer’ Tintafel.” Mikus spit off to the side.

“I don’t think so,” Ari replied. “Or, at least not completely,” she finished, glancing at Keris.

“I don’t know anything,” Keris replied, raising both hands in a warding gesture, understanding her insinuation. “I’ve been a guardsman my entire life, as my father was in his. Tintafel’s been living here since before my grandfather's time, and my father told me he’s helped the lords all the while. Tintafel doesn’t talk much to the guard, and we have no reason to talk to him.

“We know he lives in one of the houses outside the Hold and that he’s had someone living with him for about a year now, but they never came to the inn and rarely came into the Hold. Beyond that, we just assumed whoever it was, was of no importance.

“He, I mean she, always had a hood on and was rarely out during the day which was my shift. So, I’d always figured that someone else dealt with him … I mean her.” He stared off towards where Saress had disappeared back into the woods.

“Well, we’ll deal with anything if it becomes an issue,” Donnor said. “If Saress can command the archers, get them all shooting in the same direction, and improve their skills, I’ll be content. For now, that’s our rough plan, so get some sleep.

“Keris, show me where the sentries are and then get some sleep too. I’ll take the first watch, Mikus the middle, Keris the end. Goodnight, everyone. Keris?” Donnor prompted, and the two men walked away.

Basic Training

“Get off yer’ arses an’ stop yer’ bitchin’,” was the first thing Tommy heard when he woke the next morning. The ground was cold and hard, and he ached in places he didn’t know existed. But Mikus’s voice roused him quickly to wakefulness.

Ari rose with him, blinking rapidly in her manner, then gave him a quick smile as she rose and began rolling up her blanket. Tommy did the same, and they both finished tying them to their packs as his da’ came over.

“Good morning. Get something to eat and drink. We’ll be on our way in a moment.” He grabbed his pack and hoisted it onto his shoulders.

Donnor walked back over to where the troop had settled for the night and moved among the men, greeting the few remaining that were blinking themselves awake. And it looked like he was assuring himself that they were actually getting up before moving on. The forest sounds around them were quiet as the men readied themselves for the day; a few scattered bird songs and softly rustling leaves in the trees.

“Come on, Haleron, get on your feet,” Keris called to one of the human men who was lagging behind the others. “Everyone roll your blankets and get them tied to your packs while you're eating. We’re leaving as soon as you’re done.”

Someone belched loudly, drawing chuckles from the surrounding men while one of the halflings was determinedly scratching his butt. As Tommy chewed one of his rations, Mikus and Keris got their men’s gear stowed and had them eating after just a few moments. It surprised Tommy at how quickly they got the men to move as he could only imagine Mikus and Keris were at least as tired and sore as he was.

Saress walked out of the woods, her face completely hidden within her hood again.

Donnor turned to her. “Saress, bring the sentries in.”

She nodded, disappearing back into the trees.

A few men walked away into the woods to relieve themselves. Ari told him she was going to do the same and disappeared in the other direction behind a tree.

Tommy watched her disappear by herself into the trees. I’m sure not going to follow her … no way. He eyed his da’ talking to the men and hoped his da’ didn’t notice he wasn’t at her side like he wanted him to be.

The hunters started walking into camp in pairs, quietly talking to themselves. When they all returned, Donnor called Saress to the front.

“All right, everyone, listen up,” his da’ called out. “From now on, when I say ‘troop’, that means everyone. When I say ‘spears’, that means anyone with a spear. When I say ‘archers’, that means anyone with a bow. Any questions?”

After a moment of silence, he continued. “Spears, you’re being split into two groups. Mikus leads the first; Keris leads the second. Those with Mikus will be ‘first rank’, Keris’s people will be ‘second rank’.

“Usually in formations everyone is either the same race or height. We don’t have that luxury. So, to make it easier, we’re splitting you into ranks mostly by height. That way, the second rank can just stab over the heads of the people in front of them.”

He looked to the gnome who’d scowled the previous day, asking, “Can you imagine trying to stab your spear with Gart in the way?” His da’ got some chuckles at this, and Gart bent down to pat the gnome on the head to more laughter. “Any questions about how and why we’re splitting you up?” Another moment of silence went on while his da’ looked around. The gnome kicked Gart in the shin.

“Archers, you’re going to be led by Saress.” Saress exposed the front of her face so it could be seen before returning it deep in her hood. Her appearance drew some whispers, but everyone seemed too tired at the moment to care about how she looked.

“She has experience leading scouts in the army. If she says to do something, you follow her lead. Any questions there? No? Good.”

Donnor turned to the two corret handlers and said, “Alarat, Camm, you two stay together and follow along behind Ari and Tommy. Ari, do you mind taking charge of them? I need someone in charge of our supplies, and since you won’t be on the line, you’re the best person for that.”

Ari nodded as the two handlers commanded their correts to their feet and walked over to her with them. Tommy couldn’t help being nervous as it seemed the two correts eyed him hungrily. But after a moment they returned to looking around, making soft, trilling noises to each other.

“We’re not Redtail Guard, and we’re not the Crown’s Army,” Donnor said, followed by some chuckles. “There’re no ‘sirs’, ‘captains’, and ‘commanders’ here. Learn everyone’s names and use them. That’s Saress, that’s Keris, that’s Mikus, and I’m Donnor. If I’m going to call you by your name, you’re going to call me by mine.

“I may lead you, along with the others, because we have more experience and more knowledge; but I’m going to be doing the same thing you are. And I don’t want some special treatment just because I’m a ‘commander’. My name is Donnor. Any questions?” He got more than a few surprised looks at his statements, but no one spoke up.

After looking around for a moment longer, he continued. “Today, we’ll be learning how to run with a spear, among other things. It can be hard when you’re not used to it because the tip gets heavy. There are two ways we’re going to teach you to do it. The first is like this, holding it in two hands.” He demonstrated by holding the spear diagonally in front of him. “You do this when you think you’re going to need to use it. The second way is in one hand like this.” He grabbed the spear halfway down its length, holding it parallel to the ground and pointing it in front of him. “You hold it this way when you have to move fast. Today we’re moving fast. Make sure you keep enough room in front of you so you don’t stab anyone.

“Questions? No? Good,” Donnor concluded. “First rank, gather your spears. Mikus, we’ll meet you at the first rest point.”

With a nod, Mikus moved among the men and gathered up the ones he’d be in charge of with a minimum of fuss. Then he directed them to gather their spears, making sure they all held them correctly, and led them off at a jog.

“Second Rank, gather your spears and then you and the archers come over here.” After Keris had organized his men, Donnor continued. “Saress, show us how to hide our fires, if you would.”

“Come here, everyone,” she said in a soft, sibilant voice, directing everyone to one of the fires. The hood looked around, and she continued from within it in a quiet voice that made people pay attention just to hear her. “A fire marks where you have been and can tell someone who’s knowledgeable about such things how long and how many were there. It is impossible to completely eradicate evidence of a fire. But there are things you can do to hide it, and the signs you were there.”

Saress then proceeded to give a precise, if quiet, demonstration on how to bury the coals of a fire. She showed various methods to hide half-burnt sticks and coals without setting another fire by accident. And then demonstrated how to sweep the ground around camp to remove signs that people were there.

After showing them how to do this around one fire, she looked towards his da’, who raised one eyebrow at her continued silence since finishing her lesson. A sigh came from within the hood, then she turned and split the people up into groups to do the same with the other fires. Walking between the groups, she instructed each one in her quiet manner, becoming more engaged as she taught.

Saress’s hood had long since fallen back during her instruction, and she didn’t seem to notice as she intently and competently taught those around her. When they were done, she suddenly noticed the men looking at her appraisingly. And with a flattening of her ears, she instantly replaced her hood.

“Thank you, Saress,” Donnor calmly said, getting everyone’s attention off of Saress and back onto him. “Keris, lead off. Saress, I want your archers moving in pairs around us within bowshot. Let’s move.”

Keris had his men form a single file line and move off at a quick walk. He initially jogged up and down the line, repetitively instructing his men to stay a certain distance from each other. And after many minutes, he seemed to get his point across and slowed to walk beside them. Keris made sure that the men watched around them by periodically calling out, asking if anyone had seen this or that creature they passed and offering praise to those who had.

Ari motioned for Tommy and the corret handlers to fall into line behind the men. The correts’ followed along, trading their trilling calls to one another as they went. Every now and then, the correts snapped up things that caught their interest, including one unfortunate mouse that started a minor war between them before they ripped it in half, both getting a bite. Their two handlers were amicable traveling companions, and though they didn’t speak much, they answered any question Tommy asked.

Saress watched the group’s progress at first then split her archers up into pairs. The first pair she had jog ahead of Keris’s men and slow to a walk some distance ahead. The other groups she sent to each side and behind. All of the archers kept one eye on the terrain around them and the other on Keris’s group, maintaining their distance roughly a half a bow shot from the rank of men. Saress jogged lightly between them, spending time with each group as they traveled, adjusting them to her satisfaction.

Donnor watched everyone's progress and made his rounds between the three groups, speaking periodically with Ari, Keris, and Saress about things he saw that needed adjustment.

Tommy just watched and took it all in. Ari periodically shot him an amused smile at his wonder of this new thing that was plastered across his face.

“Your father’s a very good commander,” Ari said.

“I never knew,” Tommy replied, as Donnor jogged to one of the archer pairs on the left.

“He commanded many trade caravans in the Vale.”

“Where’d they go?”

“To the free cities on the other side of the ‘Peaks. He’d be gone for months, but I never worried. His caravans always came back.”

“Others didn’t?”

“No. The mountains are full of creatures. Orcs, goblins, bandits, and other tribes of creatures live there, fighting for land and resources. The caravans travel a set route determined by the passes through the mountains, and cannot vary from their path because of the terrain. They are prime targets, heavily laden with goods on their way to the ports along the ocean.”

“Why don’t the elves do something?”

“It wasn’t the elves who traded. The Vale has everything the elves need, and there is very little outside the Vale that we want. It was the other lands and races who came and bartered for our goods.”

“So, who did Da’ work for?” Tommy asked, as his da’ finished talking with a pair of archers and started walking back to the second rank. Keris called out if anyone had seen the brown thrush that startled aloft, and the only one who had was the halfling who’d almost stepped on it.

“There was a trading house sponsored by the city who sent goods to Ancilar on the other side of the mountains. From there, your father told me the goods went to either the ports of Jebid or Samisall. Sometimes he’d follow the goods to the ports, but only rarely.”

“How come?”

Ari chuckled. “They couldn’t afford him.”

“Huh?”

“Tommy, after a while your father had a reputation. A very well deserved one, too. And because of that, he was in high demand.”

“How’s that?”

“He never lost a shipment. Not once. And almost every person who went with his caravans came back. This was not the norm you see, and his men loved him for it,” she said as her voice softened, watching him talk to the men.

“His men? Da’ never mentioned he had any men.”

“Well, he didn’t, but they considered themselves his. After his fourth or fifth trip out, the tribes would avoid him. One trip in particular, Mikus told me the orcs fled when they saw him enter combat with his spear. After that, he was always in demand and could have gone anywhere he wished. But he always came back to Sirikii,” she trailed off with a smile.

Tommy glanced back and forth between her and his da’. Ari looked at his da’ like Mum sometimes did, and watching her look at him that way left him feeling awkward and strange.

Donnor caught Ari watching him and gave her a smile before turning back to the men.

“His spear?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, his spear. He was known as ‘The Silverspear’ in the Vale. It was a beautiful weapon, and even I can acknowledge the craftsmanship that went into it. It was also ancient, and my father and the masters were very curious about it. But Donnor would never let anyone touch it except for me. Beyond being pretty, it trailed a silvery shimmer behind it when he used it in battle. It was what he was known by, and how he got his name.”

“I never knew any of this. Da’ almost never talked about his past, and only then in passing. The furthest back I knew about was that he came to Lakeside from somewhere else, but that was it. I always figured he was just a fisherman.”

Ari chuckled. “A fisherman? No. Our ilari may like to fish, but a fisherman he is not. He is a mysterious man, our Donnor. But those who know him love him for it,” she ended with a smile.

Tommy watched her as she gazed upon his da’. She had a smile on her face, and he felt her Tol pulsing slowly with a soothing warmth. He looked back consideringly at his da’. He wasn’t sure what he thought about what he’d felt, or what Ari had just said.

“You knew him long?”

“Years,” she said with a loving smile, never once looking away from his da’.

“Huh,” Tommy grunted, wondering how his life was going to change as he followed her gaze.

***

Several hours later, they found Mikus and the first rank stabbing the butts of their spears repetitively into the bank of a creek that had eroded away part of a hill. Tommy tried to figure out for the life of him what they were doing, but didn’t have a clue. To the side, the rest of Mikus’s rank were trying to hit each other with the butts of their spears. It reminded Tommy of the practice circles he’d seen back at the Hold.

The two dwarves with Mikus’s group were standing watch, and offered a sharp whistle getting Mikus’s attention. Mikus looked up, saw Donnor, and gave him a wave.

“First Rank, take a break!”

There were sounds of relief as his rank moved to where their gear was piled and sat, drinking and talking amongst themselves.

“Any problems, old man?” Donnor asked, as they stopped in front of him.

“No. We be havin’ a good run but no be seein’ anythin’. I like yer’ scouts,” he said to Saress as she approached. She acknowledged the compliment with a nod, her face still deep within the hood.

“Keris, it’s time for our run. Saress, you and the handlers stay here with Mikus and do the same as you did with us. She gives a good instruction on covering your tracks, Mikey, so give her some time to go over that before you move on. Ari, Tommy, join Keris’s rank. Keris, get your men to drink, and then we’ll be off.”

They moved to do as Donnor instructed, and after a short pause Keris gave the command and they took off at a jog holding their spears in one hand.

Tommy was the last one in line and had the job of looking over his shoulder every minute or so in case someone appeared behind them. He couldn’t see the point of this, but followed his instructions watching Mikus and the rest disappear slowly out of sight.

They jogged for roughly a quarter-hour then slowed to a walk, raising their spears back into the air and closing the distance between them. They walked for roughly the same period of time while Keris moved back the line, helping people who hadn’t figured out how to shorten the straps on the shield yet. Then they sped up to a jog once more.

With the gear’s added weight, the jog really took a lot of effort, and it wasn’t long before everyone was sweaty and out of breath. They repeated the cycle of jog and walk a few times before stopping at another grove of trees. His da’ moved up to Keris, and they spoke for a bit while everyone drank then Keris began speaking.

“Second Rank! We’re going to be doing some training with your spears until first rank joins us. So, stand up, drop your packs and shields, then form a single-file line facing me.”

The men moved to comply while Ari walked over towards Donnor then took a seat leaning against a tree to watch. Donnor dropped his pack and shield by her then took his spear to stand beside Keris. Tommy didn’t quite know what to do, but joined the line of men when his da’ waved for him to do so.

Keris continued, “The first thing you have to know is how to hold a spear. This may seem a little stupid, learning how to hold a spear; but when you need to use it, it has to come on instinct. That instinct is part of what we’re training. Everybody has their spear on the right? Good.”

His da’ moved in front of everyone, facing them with his spear like theirs.

“Now move your right hand down to about your waist and hold the spear there,” Keris continued. “Take your other hand and grab the spear at about shoulder height.”

Donnor followed Keris’s instructions so that everyone could see what he did while they followed along.

“Don’t let go with your other hand, Beran!” Keris corrected. “Now, you should be holding the spear, which is still straight up and down, on your right side in both hands, just like the commander.”

His da’ glanced at him, which Keris ignored. “Any questions so far? No?”

“Moving on, then. Pick the butt of your spear up off the ground, take one step forward with your left leg, and point the tip in front of you. The tip of your spear should be about chest high.”

His da’ continued following Keris’s instructions and easily moved the spear, pointing it at the men and balancing his weight evenly between both legs.

Tommy followed Keris’s instructions, and when the spear swung down its tip dipped with unexpected weight.

“I see a lot of you letting your tips drop. That’s normal for beginners. The trick is to anticipate how heavy the head of the spear is and stop it from dropping too low. We’re going to practice this maneuver until everyone is sick of it, then practice it some more.”

That earned him a few chuckles.

“Everyone get back in the position you started in,” Keris continued. “This is called ‘rest’. When I call out ‘rest’ you stand this way,” he said, waving a hand towards Donnor who was standing smartly in that position. “When I say ‘ready’, you return to the position we just did. Let’s give it a try.

“READY!” Keris commanded.

Donnor dropped into the ready position in an instant, spear pointing chest high at second rank. Tommy and the rest hesitated at first, then awkwardly got into position with only one person dropping their spear in the process.

“REST!” Keris commanded.

Donnor returned to his position quickly, his spear pointing up into the sky while everyone else straggled behind.

“Not bad for the first time we’ve done this, not bad. Gart, don’t worry about dropping the spear, it happens to everyone at least once during training, myself included. Now, let's try it again.

“READY!” he commanded, and they all moved to position. “REST!” They all returned to the starting point.

Donnor followed all of Keris’s commands, moving through them fluidly. After a dozen or so times repeating this, he got a nod from Keris and put his spear down, moving to assist the men.

His da’ walked along behind the men, giving pointers. “Move your foot back more,” “lower your spear,” “too slow,” “too fast,” and the like came from him as it became almost natural to move to Keris’s commands.

Ari watched, yawning, and looked more than a little bored resting against her tree. She absently watched a butterfly flit about amongst the trees as the rest practiced their positions.

After meeting Donnor’s and Keris’s satisfaction performing the two positions, Donnor moved back to stand in front of everyone again and picked up his spear.

“The next thing we’re going to do is learn how to stab,” Keris said. “First, let's begin at READY!” Everyone smartly moved into position. Not quite as fast as his da’, but certainly much faster than the first time they’d tried it.

“Now the next command is STRIKE!”

As Keris called out the command, his da’ shifted his weight and thrust the spear forward with both hands, the spear tip vibrating with the force of his thrust. Then he returned to the ready position.

“What he did there, we’ll go over slowly so everyone can keep up,” Keris said after Donnor finished moving. “But for now, REST!

“When I said ‘strike’, the commander leaned his weight onto his forward leg and thrust the spear forward while twisting his body, putting the power of his whole body behind the thrust.”

Donnor threw Keris another glance, then moved through the motions slowly so that everyone could see and follow along.

“After he finished his thrust, the commander returned his weight quickly onto his back leg so he could strike again, if need be.”

Donnor rolled his eyes at Keris and returned to the ready position, exaggerating where he placed his weight.

“Let’s show you that again. Ready, Commander?”

That earned him a pointed look from Donnor that drew some chuckles from the rank. Tommy remembered his da’ wanting everyone to use his name, and it suddenly dawned on him why his da’ kept looking at Keris every time he said ‘commander’.

“Okay, Donnor. STRIKE!” Donnor went through the motions again and returned to the ready position. “Everyone got that? Yes?” Everyone looked around, nodding they understood. “All right, let's give it a try.

“Second Rank! READY! STRIKE!”

Tommy thrust out with his spear as hard as he could and was surprised that the spear seemed to want to keep going, almost leaving his hands. He tightened his grip, and on the next command of “STRIKE!” he thrust out again. It took a surprising amount of force to stop the spear’s momentum, jarring his shoulder uncomfortably. Eventually he got the hang of it, but it was startling how heavy the spear became after only a few thrusts.

Once again, Donnor put down his spear and moved behind the formation offering individual advice. Keris continued to slowly call out the three commands, and though a few people had problems, no one dropped their spear. Keris and his da’ were patient teachers. And though it took a while for everyone to get it, they made sure everyone at least had the basics down before moving on.

“The last command we need to go over is ‘brace’,” Keris said. “You only need this when you’re being charged and you can’t get out of the way, or when you’re trying to be in someone’s way to mess things up for them. This position is the same as READY!”

The entire group moved into position without thinking. Keris paused and looked around. “Good job,” he said with a grin.

“This next position involves just bending your knees more and putting all your weight onto your back leg. That’s it. Nothing more and nothing fancy. When I yell ‘brace’, the commander,” another glance and more chuckles, “will come around and push on your shoulders. If he can push you backwards, or into standing a standing position, try again. Here we go.”

“BRACE!”

Tommy settled himself, shifting his weight onto his back leg. His da’ walked around the front of the formation, and one by one, moved to stand in front of each of them and give them a hefty shove. A few were moved into standing, a few others knocked back, but no one fell down. Tommy was surprised with the force of his da’s shove, but didn’t move, taking it on his back leg.

“Good job, Tommy,” his da’ quietly said.

“All right! Now it’s time to put it all together. REST! READY! STRIKE! BRACE!” Keris’s commands came as they followed along, sometimes clumsily, attempting to keep up.

Donnor walked around the men, again adjusting this here, making comments there, and generally correcting anything that was off. Keris’s commands came quicker and quicker every time they seemed to get the hang of it, until his commands were coming so rapidly that no one had time to think; their bodies just reacting to his voice.

This went on for some unknown amount of time before Keris called a final, “REST!” and then said calmly, “Everyone, relax. Excellent! We’ve been going at this for almost an hour, and you’ve all done well. Everyone, have a seat, take a drink, and we’ll start the next bit in a moment.” He moved to sit with them and got something to drink as well.

Tommy was happy to take a break and sit down; his arms and legs burning from all the exercise they’d done today. It reminded him of when they had to replace the mast on their boat, standing and holding the new one upright with the men while it was secured. Everyone relaxed, the men talking together for a bit, some lying flat on the ground. And after a while, Keris stood.

“READY!”

Everyone quickly hopped to their feet into the positions they’d learned.

“Good! REST! Relax. Next, we’re going to go over what it feels like to stab something, and also some partner training. You’re going to split up for this, so you five come with me and we’re going to go stab that tree over there. You other five stay here with the commander ...”

Donnor looked up into the sky at this and started mumbling to himself, earning some laughs and a few more chuckles.

“... who is going to teach you how to try and hit each other. Any questions? No? Good. Let’s go.” Keris waved his people together, leading them away to a wide tree.

“All right, everyone, let's talk about using a spear in combat,” Donnor said. “There are a lot of ways to use a spear, and a lot of ways to kill with a spear, but we’re going to teach you the simplest one: stabbing. Tommy, come up here and stand there.” He pointed a little bit away from him. “Now, I want you to do something you’re never going to do outside of training; turn your spear around and put the point in the dirt. Good. This way, when I give you any commands, the tip stays away from me, and nobody gets hurt. Got it? Good. Let’s begin.”

“READY!” Donnor commanded.

Without thinking, Tommy moved into position, this time with the blunt end pointed towards his da’.

“Okay, what I’m going to do now is stand here and try not to get hit.” Donnor moved into position while everyone chuckled.

He seems awful close, Tommy thought.

“STRIKE!”

Tommy reacted without thinking, stabbing out at his da’. The end stopped a finger-length from his chest, not touching him at all. Tommy was beside himself, eyes wide with shock, while his da’ calmly smiled.

“REST!”

Tommy again moved without thinking, stunned.

“Relax. Good job, Tommy.” Donnor put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Now, how many people thought I was about to die?” Every single hand went up. “Good. Then that lesson is complete. Remember, the spear is not as long as you think it is. It will surprise you how close you have to be to actually hit someone.

“Now, everyone spin your spears around, and we’ll try to hit one another. Your name’s Paden, right? Come on up here and pair with Tommy. The rest of you, find a partner and pair off.” He moved everyone around, positioning them to face one another before continuing.

“Everyone is now far enough apart that you won’t actually hit one another, but it will sure seem like it. You need to experience this so you can judge a good striking distance for yourself. Don’t move your feet! But for now, READY! STRIKE!”

They all went through the positions striking out at the person in front of them. No one hit anyone, but the pure fact of the spear coming so fast and so close made more than one of them jump back, Tommy included.

“That was the next lesson, and everyone learned it. It’s hard to stand there when someone is stabbing something at you. Let’s do that again a few more times until you stop moving. Flinching is fine for right now. Moving is not. READY! STRIKE! READY! STRIKE!”

Tommy could see by Paden’s wide eyes that he was still as surprised as he was that they weren’t hitting each other. They repeated the positions at least a dozen times before his da’ stopped calling the commands.

“Good. Everyone should know ‘about’ where someone has to be to hit them with your spear. Now it’s your turn to actually try and hit your partner. I want everyone to try and hit your opponent with your spear. Stabbing only! No swinging it around like a club! And hits to the chest only! Ready? Begin!”

Tommy nodded to Paden, and they both began stabbing out at one another. It was surprisingly difficult to hit anything when you both knew how far you could reach with the spear. Tommy and Paden circled each other around their patch of ground, stabbing out with limited success. When his da’ called for everyone to stop, neither had gotten a solid hit on the other. A few close calls, a brush, or a light touch, but that was it.

“Good. You’re learning. The point today was not to beat your opponent but to teach you where you and your opponent's spear is, so you can understand where you need to be to land a strike. If you didn’t land a hit, that’s fine, and I’m not surprised. Now, everyone move over to Keris.”

The groups switched. Keris’s task was strength training; simple, yet surprisingly hard: Hit the tree with the blunt end of the spear over and over again as hard as you could, without dropping your spear.

Keris kept them paired up, so Tommy and Paden waited their turn together. When it was their time, they did as they were instructed. Stabbing out at the tree as hard as he could, Tommy’s spear skipped off to the side as it hit. They reset and stabbed out again, and again his spear skipped off to the side. After a third reset, Tommy focused and stabbed out, this time striking the tree solidly causing his hands to tingle with the force of the impact.

At least I didn’t drop my spear, he thought as they reset and did it again.

And again, and again, and again, and again.

Each time they successfully stabbed the tree, the impact caused the numbness and vibration in Tommy’s hands to worsen until he knew he was holding the spear, but could barely feel it. He was just about to mention this to Keris when he heard, “What’re ye lay abouts doin’? Playin’ wi’ yer’ sticks?”

There was a loud groan, then some laughter announcing the arrival of Mikus and the other parts of the troop. Keris commanded second rank to relax with a grin, waving his people over to their gear for a break.

Then he told Tommy to join his father who was waking Ari from her nap.

The First Sign

After Mikus and Saress arrived, they sent their people to rest with the others before joining Ari and Donnor. Keris joined them after making sure the troop was settled, having instructed a couple men to pair up into watches while everyone else rested as a group. Donnor waited for him to join them while Ari yawned and stretched.

“Okay, we’ve got the bare minimum training down,” Donnor said. “Any problems?”

“Aye,” Mikus said. “Our two dwarves be jus’ fine, both havin’ trainin’ wi’ their clan. They be needin’ none o’ this but be doin’ it gamely enough. Tha’ rest have never done anythin’ like this before. Tha’ humans I got have tha’ strength, but tha’ halflings an’ gnomes do no’… yet. An’ it be a couple o’ days till they do. It no’ be bein’ their fault; a human spear be like a pike ta’ us wee folk.”

“Beginner problems,” Keris said after a pause. “Everyone is willing enough. But with no experience, it will be a few days before they even have the basics down. Today was a good start, but that was it. The only stand out I have is Gart, who is immensely strong but clumsy. I was worried about the men accepting him since he’s half-something, but there’ve been no problems there.”

“I noticed some looks before we left,” Donnor commented.

“I did too,” Keris said. “No one’s done anything more than move away from him in line, so I’m letting it go for now. But I don’t think his half-whatever is going to be a problem. Gart’s strong as an ox, and it seems like he has a good sense of humor. And he’s a farmhand from Harper’s Creek, so he’s got things in common with the rest of the men.”

“The archers are fine for what we are doing now. Every one of them was a hunter at some point, and all have some skill with tracking and living in the woods. Working with a formation and keeping pace with it is new, but this is easy to make a habit of. I have no idea how any of them shoot. And right now, they’re bored,” Saress said.

“Have you had problems?” Donnor asked.

“There will be none.”

“Alarat and Camm handle the correts as if they’ve been doing it for years, Ilari,” Ari said, not noticing the sharp glance from Saress at her words. “This shouldn’t be a surprise since they have been handling correts and other animals for decades. And Camm is a trainer. They are quiet, but seem to be opening up. We’ll have no issues there.”

“Good. Get everyone to have a drink and something quick to eat, but not too much. We’ll move out together after the break. Are your archers up for a run, Saress?” She nodded. “Good, we’ll do a short run then walk the rest of the way to our next camp. How far are we from the next stop Keris?”

“About three leagues.”

“Good. We’re making good time following the path, but that’ll end soon enough. The path stays like this all the way, right Keris?”

“Kind of,” Keris replied. “The path continues on past Resthaven to the clanhold of the western dwarves, but it narrows significantly past the village. We don’t keep it up past Resthaven, the dwarves do. And since they typically travel on foot, they don’t mind it being a little overgrown.”

“Well, since we’re only going to Resthaven, that’s fine by me,” his da’ replied. “We’ll deal with the rest of it when we come to it.”

“Saress, the archers won’t have watch tonight; we’ll set the spears to that. When we stop, set a fire for your people and have them eat. Then set targets for your people at different ranges and practice with them until it’s too dark to see. Too dark for a human to see, I should say.” She nodded again. “The purpose here is to judge how accurately they shoot, and introduce them to mass fire.

“Mikus, Keris, we’ll have another round of watches tonight to split among us to make sure the men on watch stay awake. I’m pushing them hard to make sure they're tired enough to just absorb whatever we’re teaching them, but that’s going to cause issues staying awake overnight. When we break, get your ranks to build their own fires, eat their meals together, then go over what to do on watch while you eat with them. Then get them to sleep.

“Set your watches how you want, and for now, split it up as evenly as you can. Mikus, I want your people watching whichever directions offers the most cover. You know this, but so everyone else knows it too; your people can see in the dark better, and cover will slow down an attacker.”

“Aye, laddie.”

“We’ll pass the point of the closest sighting of the ondilaan in about an hour. Stay alert.”

Everyone was tired, so they rested longer than they had during the last break. Some people had even fallen asleep. Haleran had fallen asleep leaning back against a limmen nut tree and was snoring, mouth hanging wide open to the amusement of those around him.

Limmen nuts were cup-shaped things about the size of your thumb that had a hard outer shell, a circular cap on top, and a soft meaty inside. They made a good snack; and if a person could collect enough of them, you could make a flavorful kind of flour by grinding them down. The nuts dropped to the forest floor in the late summer and early autumn as the weather cooled, and Tommy remembered heading into the woods with his mum and the Gemhands to gather them up so they could make harvest cakes for the festival every fall.

Mum, I hope you’re safe.

Well, while they were resting, one of the bowmen was amusing himself with Haleran and the limmen nuts. The bowman, a sprite, picked up the limmen nuts he found off the forest floor and removed their caps. Then he held the circular cap in his fingers a certain way, and with a snap of his fingers, it flew through the air gliding towards Haleran.

The bowmen around him all had grins on their faces, whispering, taking bets on how close the sprite could get to Haleran’s open mouth. Eventually, with chuckles from all around, he succeeded in his appointed task and delicately spun one of the caps directly into Haleran’s gaping mouth.

Haleran gagged, his eyes snapping open and he flung himself into a sitting position, coughing. The cap shot out of his mouth between his feet and he looked around, glaring as the men laughed. The sprite, a picture of innocence, stared up at the sky above with a wide grin.

With an “On yer’ feet!” from Mikus, everyone stood and grabbed their gear. The laughter dwindled off into chuckles as Haleran searched for his tormentor.

“We gonna’ be movin’ all together now, so watch tha’ person beside ye! We’ll be movin’ out at a walk. Once ye get used ta’ tha’, then we be takin’ a nice jog.” He looked around with a smile that drew some groans. “Aye. Since I be hearin’ how excited everyone be abou’ it, we’ll begin. REST!”

With the shouted command, everyone moved into position while Mikus moved to the head of his rank.

“Excellent!” Donnor said. “You’re doing well, and learning quickly. Second rank, move around behind the first rank and make sure someone is in front of you. There’ll be one extra person in second rank, so whoever that is, bring up the rear centered between both ranks.” Then Donnor hollered, “TROOP! Face to the right! MOVE!”

This was a new command, but everyone caught on as Mikus and Keris, side by side, turned to face the path heading west.

“TROOP! Advance at a walk! WALK!”

Mikus and Keris started walking, the rest of the troop following along behind. Ari motioned Tommy to join her following the last man, with the gnome handlers and their correts following behind them.

“Saress! SCOUTS OUT!”

She nodded, gave a command to her people, and the archers split into pairs again. They had clearly been preassigned as they quickly took up positions in front, behind, and to either side of the troop without any confusion.

Tommy thought they looked very grand, and his spirits rose as the troop walked along, moving smartly together as a unit for the first time. Donnor only had to mention to the spears to straighten up a few times before he became silent, walking beside them roughly halfway up the rank. Tommy thought about what Ari had said and wondered if this was like the caravans his da’ had protected before.

Eventually, his da’ started calling out animals they disturbed as they passed and congratulated those who saw them, just like Keris had done before. Tommy could see the archers working in pairs to not only keep an eye around them, but also keep track of where the troop was, so they stayed a consistent distance away. Saress had mostly taken up station near his da’, though she floated around the troop looking here and there at things that captured her interest.

After a long while where Donnor had no corrections or comments to make, he made his next command. “TROOP! At a run, RUN!”

Mikus and Keris took off at a jog holding their spears in one hand as they’d been shown that morning. The rest of the troop caught on to this new command and followed along, settling into the slow, steady jog their leaders had set. Donnor and Saress jogged up and down the line, making sure the troop was spaced out enough so that no one accidentally stabbed the person in front of them. Soon the entire formation was jogging along together, moving quickly across the plain without issue.

Tommy jogged beside Ari, who seemed to be enjoying the quicker pace; a smile crossing her face as her hair streamed out behind her. Surprisingly, the correts did not make very much noise as they seemed to prance behind them, their heads strutting forward and back with the increased pace.

Sometime later, his da’ called out, “TROOP! At a walk, WALK!”

Mikus and Keris slowed, raising their spears back into the air. His da’ trotted ahead to the front of the line and moved people back in order, working his way through the troop. Once he got to the end he gave Ari a tired smile, before returning to his usual spot roughly halfway down the line.

Then he called out, “TROOP! At a run, RUN!” And they started the cycle over again. They repeated this cycle of walking and running four more times until performing it without mishap. Then with a final, “TROOP! At a walk, WALK!” they settled into a steady pace that went on for the rest of the afternoon.

Donnor walked the line as they traveled speaking to one person after another as they went. At one point, they startled a couple of hares hiding in the grass and the two gnome handlers struggled with the correts. The large birds caught sight of the escaping hares and stomped their feet, tracking them with predatory interest.

After they got the correts calmed down, Tommy found out from Alarat that the giant birds ate hares normally in the wild. Camm told him their instinct to chase them was strong, and sometimes they couldn’t be stopped. Tommy wasn’t quite sure it was just an instinct to chase that made the birds seem so dangerous. And he hunched his shoulders as their snake-like necks spun and twisted around, searching intently for more hares.

Eventually, they came to another place where the path wound through a grove of trees. This grove was a mix of pines and other trees. A few bow shots before reaching the tree line, his da’ called the troop to a halt. “TROOP, HALT! Face to the left! MOVE!”

Mikus and Keris stopped, then turned in place to face their left with his call. After everyone else figured out these new commands, Donnor called out, “Relax! Leaders to me!”

Tommy followed Ari, meeting Mikus, Keris, and Saress as they joined his da’ standing in front of the two ranks.

“Saress, scout the grove,” Donnor ordered, and she scampered off with her archers, disappearing into the trees.

“Mikus, Keris, the spears did well. This will probably be the most formation training we do, but they caught on quickly, so I’m impressed. We’ll wait here until Saress gives us the okay to enter and do what we talked about before. I remembered during the march that the handlers hadn’t joined in the training today. We need to fix that. So, figure out between you who’s training them tonight and get them sorted out.”

“Tommy and I will need some time this evening as well,” Ari said.

“How much?”

“An hour or two,” she replied as Tommy looked at her questioningly. Then he remembered her talking about the Tol’An.

I wonder what we’re going to do?

Donnor nodded and turned to the others. “Go back to your ranks. Don’t have them get any food or water out yet, but have them relax while we wait for Saress.”

After a long wait, Saress returned without the archers and spoke with his da’ for a time. His da’ seemed to have many questions for her, but eventually turned and called, “TROOP! REST! Face to the right! MOVE! Advance at a walk! WALK!”

Standing in the evening sun made the cool shade of the trees welcome as they followed the path under the canopy, accompanied by the scent of the pines. This grove seemed larger than the last, and was filled with bird song that relaxed everyone. Sometime later, they came to one of the archers standing on the side of the path who directed them south off the path to a small clearing.

Donnor called out, “TROOP! HALT! Relax. Mikus, Keris, get your people sorted then find me. Saress, check on your people then return here when you’ve scouted the area. Ari, there’s a small stream that way.” He pointed to the south. “Have the correts watered and then return here and get settled in. I’ll be back. Mikus, you’re in charge.” After giving his commands, Donnor strode away west heading in the same direction Saress had gone, seemingly distracted by something.

Mikus, Keris, and Ari exchanged glances, then shrugged and had their men drop their gear. They sent some to get firewood, and others to find the stream and get fresh water. Mikus had the two dwarves, Karn and Turred, return and stand watch where they had turned off the path. Meanwhile, the rest of the men stacked their gear so each rank was on their own side of the clearing near where they’d come in.

After sending Camm off to find the stream with his charge, Ari had Alarat join her and Tommy away from the others. Alarat settled his corret, which amazingly only needed the gnome to drop its lead. Camm had told Tommy earlier in the day they were trained to stay when their leads were dropped, and it amazed him that such a large animal would pay attention to such a tiny little thing.

Alarat’s corret watched the other corret leave and made a loud trill in its direction. This garnered a sharp whistling call in return which seemed to settle Alarat’s corret down. It returned to looking around, and to Tommy, eyeing him uncomfortably.

After a while, Camm returned with the other men who’d gone for water, and Alarat left with his corret. Camm directed his charge to sit and started unloading it. The bird seemed to appreciate this, snapping at one package in particular that had been sitting right at the base of its neck. It proceeded to peck and preen itself like a chicken, paying particular attention to where the offending package had been.

Camm caught Tommy watching the bird. “They have a gland back there, they do, that oils their feathers. Right there behind the neck, it is. I think it itches them when something rubs on it. Any a way, they don’t like it none.” He patted the corret affectionately on its haunch, joining Tommy watching the bird.

Donnor returned a little while later and waved Tommy and Ari over. “Mikus, Keris,” he called, getting their attention and waving them over as well, sitting down roughly in the center of the clearing. Once everyone sat, he said, “Change of plans. There’s sign about three bow shots west of the clearing that the ondilaan camped here within the last few days. Saress said she saw where they entered, and where they left, but didn’t have time to do a complete sweep of the grove. She’s doing that now. I need you to get your men fed and separated into pairs. We’re going to start the watches early tonight.”

With an “Aye, lad,” and a “Yes, Commander,” Mikus and Keris rose and went back to their men.

“Ari, this area isn’t safe. I know you need to train Tommy, but can it wait tonight? Do I need to set a watch?”

“It cannot wait and just one person is fine, Donnor. You have too much to do. Do you think Saress can watch after practicing with her people?”

“Sure. Why her?”

“She is a pathfinder. She will know as soon as I begin what I’m doing. There is no way to hide Tommy’s training from her because pathfinders are trained to guard the mages, among other things. They’re exposed to it all the time,” Ari said simply.

Donnor watched her in reluctant silence, his thoughts obviously churning.

Ari eventually said, “There is no risk here, Ilari.” She reached out to touch his cheek. “She may watch and report, but she will not harm me.”

“There’s plenty of risk.”

“But not now.”

Donnor sighed. “As you wish. Be careful, I worry.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he liked how Ari touched his da’. It reminded him of how Da’ and Mum acted when they were together at home. He got that they knew each other from before, but it just didn’t seem right even though he was their son.

I miss you, Mum. He watched them looking at each other. I wonder what’s going to happen to me?

Ari started their fire with barely a flick of her wrist. He didn’t miss Alarat and Camm watching her as she did it, either. Ari didn’t outwardly seem to notice their looks, but Tommy thought he caught the ghost of a smile as she arranged everything to her liking.

Mikus and Keris returned and Keris asked, “When do you want us to set the watches?”

“When Saress returns. She’ll lead you to replace her people with yours,” Donnor replied.

“Do ya’ want me ta’ be keepin’ watch on the path?” Mikus asked.

“Yes, old friend. We’ll set watches, and after a short time of shooting for Saress’s archers, we’ll let the men sleep. Let’s get a good night’s sleep tonight if we can. Let the men know about the signs; we won’t keep it from them. It’ll keep them more alert on watch.”

“No’ much different than workin’ in tha’ Vale, huh?”

“No. Just no caravan this time,” Donnor replied with a tired smile as they turned at Saress’s approach. “Sit,” his da’ instructed. She did, removing her hood with a sigh when his da’ watched her for a time in silence, one eyebrow raised.

“There is no more sign. They came two or three days ago, probably spent the night, then left within a day of their coming. Their scat is everywhere. It’s hard to be sure, but there were easily ten. I could tell nothing more,” she finished with the flick of one ear.

“That’s good enough. Lead Mikus, Keris, and their men to the sentry points and return your people here. Where would you like them to be? I’ll get them settled for you so you can shoot when you return. We’ll have to shoot here in the clearing tonight. It’s not ideal, but it’s what you have to work with until tomorrow.”

Saress considered this and looked around the clearing. Tommy noticed the light of the setting sun turning her downy pelt a reddish color, giving her skin a ruddy hue. Her hair was escaping her braid, each individual strand of hair also catching the light. He studied her as she frowned in concentration.

Beyond those fine hairs all over her, her ears, and her eyes, you’d never know she was different. I wonder why she hides who she is?

“I can do more than shoot targets with this. Place a fire there,” She pointed to the southern edge. “Please,” she added after a look from Ari. “We can shoot for a while between the spears at that rotting log. It won’t damage the arrows, and will let the spears hear the sounds of arrows coming at them so they know it in the future. Then we can do some shooting on the move in the wood around the clearing’s edge. This will be enough.”

“No problem. Set the watch.” Saress, Keris, and Mikus rose and walked off. “Ari, will anything you’ll be doing spook the correts?”

“Not unless they can see magic, which is not one of their abilities as far as I know.”

Tommy looked back at the correts and noticed their central eyes seemed to be glowing brighter as the light dimmed. “How come their eyes are getting so red?”

“I was taught that they can see in complete darkness,” Ari replied.

Tommy hunched his shoulders, becoming acutely uncomfortable. He didn’t like them being able to see him in the dark at all, not one bit. The two birds seemed to focus on him since he spoke, both cocking one eye in his direction.

Great.

“They can. It’s what makes them good guards, and why the people of the plains put up with them,” Donnor said. “We’re lucky to have them. Ari, I’ll join you again at your fire tonight. Let me put my gear with yours and I’ll see you later, I have to make my rounds.”

Donnor rose and carried his gear to where Alarat and Camm were happily sitting around a small fire, eating. They had finished removing the gear from the correts, and the large birds were pecking absently at things they found of interest on the ground. Donnor spoke with the two handlers for a moment while laying out his blanket, then moved to build a fire where Saress had pointed.

The men of the troop watched him gather his own wood and build his own fire, not doing anything differently than the rest of them had; and not asking for it to be done for him either. After Donnor had gotten a respectable fire going, the archers started returning, and his da’ waved them over. He had them lay out their blankets and arrange their gear, pointed them to where the stream was, and then directed them to eat and get water. Their eyes followed him consideringly as he rose and walked to speak with the other men, making sure that he spoke to every single person.

Mikus and Keris eventually wandered over to Tommy’s fire and took the two handlers to the side, teaching them the spear drills everyone else had learned earlier in the day. Tommy wasn’t too keen on being left alone with the correts, but he’d been told it would be fine before they left. It was not fine, he decided, convinced Alarat’s corret was eyeing him hungrily. Its eyes were glowing an evil red, and it kept snapping at something on the ground near his butt.

Eventually Saress returned, joined the archers, and drank with them. This was accompanied by the sound of thumping from Alarat and Camm stabbing away at a nearby tree. When she and the rest were done, they rose, picked up their bows and quivers, then walked with her to one end of the clearing.

Donnor motioned to Mikus and Keris. They nodded, and warned their men as to what was about to happen. His da’ walked over, sitting by Ari as the first arrow struck the rotten log with a sharp THWACK, shot by Saress who once again had her hood up. After this, the archers took turns firing at the log one by one.

Tommy wasn’t sure exactly where on the log they were aiming, but very few arrows missed it. And most that did, skipped off the top of the log. After they all had fired three arrows, they put down their bows, retrieved their arrows, and lined up to shoot again. After another cycle, the two ranks began cheering the bowmen on to hit Saress’s arrow, taking bets on who would get the closest.

Saress asked the men to move further away from the rotten log a while later, and the archers began shooting as a unit. Saress would command, “DRAW!” then, “SHOOT!” The archers would draw their bows and then shoot all at the same time on her command. Where a single arrow barely made a sound until it hit, twelve archers firing together made a whispering whistle through the air ending in a staggered T-T-T-T-THWACK as the arrows struck the log almost as one. Saress had them do this a couple of times, changing the length of the pause between her commands while the two ranks of spears tried not to look intimidated with the arrows landing close by.

Mikus, Keris, and his da’ exchanged knowing glances at the men’s blatant intimidation, pleased by their newfound respect. Alarat and Camm were practicing against each other and looked like they were absolutely delighted not to be with the others as the arrows flew between the two ranks.

Saress had her archers gather around after a few rounds of group shooting so she could explain what they’d be doing next. From what Tommy could hear, they were going to run around the clearing and shoot arrows at things they’d laid their cloaks by. Tommy heard her explain that the purpose was to get them to shoot quickly and accurately while moving, which is something they most likely had never done while hunting.

After a few questions, she gathered them up and walked them through the woods close by, directing them to place their cloaks on, next to, or by whatever they were supposed to shoot at. Then she had them get their packs and put them on the ground to mark the route they were supposed to run. In all, there were twelve targets spaced around the clearing, some within sight, and some not, and the archers would have to travel completely around the clearing to complete the course. Saress told them the evening’s purpose was accuracy and not speed, but she would show them what it was supposed to look like in the end, so they would know.

With that, she leapt and spun, loosing an arrow that magically appeared in her hand almost without pause. She started running from the first target to the next before her first arrow even struck, splitting the target neatly in two. Saress ran and spun, never stopping, dodging trees like a wisp, moving from cover to shadow, jumping obstacles, and even sometimes loosing an arrow in midair. It took her but moments to completely circle the clearing with the speed of a whirlwind, and everyone watching her had their jaws hanging wide open.

She shot twelve times, and hit twelve times, there was not a single doubt in anyone's mind. With no sign she was even winded, she continued to explain to the stunned archers what she had done and why, walking them through the course as she collected her arrows. Then on returning, she set them to the course, reminding them again that speed was not their goal.

Each archer took their turn on the course, and differences began to show in their abilities as they performed this new task. The humans moved the heaviest, stomping loudly through the brush when they tried to move quickly, but their arrows hit the hardest. The sprites moved easily around the course, almost as easily as Saress had. But though they consistently hit their targets, their arrows hit the softest. The halflings and gnomes were a mix between the two. With the halflings slightly faster in movement, and the gnomes slightly stronger in their strikes, but neither were as quick as the sprites.

As the sky darkened into dusk, the human and halfling archers started missing, sometimes by a wide margin, complaining that it was hard to see. It was dark, but Tommy could still see some of the targets easily enough and didn’t understand why they were having so many problems. But Saress brought the exercise to a halt for the evening. The spears congratulated the archers who had visibly improved, calling out to their favorites and offering good-natured ribbing to those who had missed a shot.

Saress set the archers to collecting their gear and finding their arrows before joining his da’ at their campfire. “They will do,” she said to Donnor and the rest.

Donnor raised an eyebrow until she sighed and lowered her hood, which got her a nod in thanks. “Not hopeless?”

“Pathfinders, they are not.”

“I don’t expect them to be. Spread your gear here for the night. Ari and Tommy have need of you and I need to get the watch changed. Goodnight,” he said as he rose and walked off.

The Tol'An

Saress spread her blanket and began to eat, eyeing Ari as casually as she could, sitting right next to her.

The two gnomes had returned from their private instruction while the archers were shooting. Both of them were already asleep on their blankets, totally oblivious to everything around them. Camm was snoring softly, and Alarat was mumbling something in his sleep about food, turning restlessly every time he mumbled something new.

The correts were lying next to each other with their four eyes closed, periodically opening the two smaller eyes which glowed red in the darkness. Saress barely spared the animals a glance as she ate delicately, watching all around. She paused between bites, returning frequently to watching those around the other two fires. The men at the fires periodically looked in their direction, talking about her feat during the practice in the woods.

As he rubbed his head while watching her, it dawned on Tommy that she was uncomfortable sitting there being talked about with her face exposed. Without thinking, he said, “You can raise your hood if it bothers you,” not understanding her discomfort and wanting to put her at ease.

Saress froze with a piece of food halfway to her mouth and looked at Tommy with wide, surprised eyes. Glaring, her jaw hardened as she looked away.

Ari glanced between them, taking in their interaction. She’d been aware of Saress watching her but had purposely said nothing. Eventually, after Saress had finished her meal, Ari looked at her, quietly saying, “We have need of you pathfinder.”

She looked to Ari with a guarded expression. “Nisa Saliantrea?” she asked in the elven tongue.

“Common tongue please, Saress. Not all here speak our language,” Ari said. “I have need to perform the Tol’An this evening and need a watcher. Are you able?”

Saress’s eyes widened at this, and she looked at Tommy with shock. “Nisa—”

“Common tongue, Saress,” Ari interrupted.

“Is he mage … Lady Saliantrea?” Saress asked, looking back and forth between them in surprise.

“Ari, Saress. I am Ari, here.”

Saress settled her gaze on Ari, her eyes glowing with reflected firelight. She swallowed more than one comment before saying, “Yes … Ari ... I am able,” almost choking on Ari’s name.

Ari watched her for a time before looking at Tommy, catching his confused look at whatever was going on between them. “It is an elven cultural thing you just witnessed, Tomilanthus. Pay it no mind.”

There was no way he could have missed the sharp glance Saress threw Ari when she named him.

“Some of the J’al’osil treat mages with respect beyond what we need and deserve. It will be hard for her, a trained pathfinder, to treat me differently. But she is our watcher, so she will adapt.”

“What is a watcher, Ari?” Tommy asked as Saress shifted uncomfortably.

“It is what the word means. Saress will watch as we exercise our Tol. When you exercise your Tol, you can easily become unaware of things around you. If you are not in a safe place, such as here, it can be dangerous. Saress has been trained to know the signs of how deep into the Tol’An we are, and bring us out quickly if there is need.”

Tommy looked to Saress and said, “Thank you,” earning him not a single response beyond her still wide-eyed consideration of the two of them.

“Let us begin. Tommy, sit here in front of me like this with your hands on your knees. Good. Do you remember the pressure and the tingles? We’re going to do the same thing again. The difference is that I’ll be holding your hands and actively assisting you. This will do nothing to you beyond making it easier for you to move your Tol around inside.

“What we will be doing is something seldom done or taught in Sirikii. However, when it is done, it is learned over many years in exacting steps, watched over in excruciating detail. But in the end, this is not needed.

“We are just going to do it simply and without the excesses of tradition.” Saress made a strange, strangled noise as Ari said that, almost staring a hole into the side of her head. “So, take a deep breath for me, Tommy. Let it out slowly, and we shall begin.”

Tommy did so and tried his best to ignore Saress as she shifted uncomfortably, continuing to look back and forth between the two of them. Ari sent her a piercing look, making a gesture with one hand that caused the pathfinder to freeze and stop moving. Though Saress kept studying them, her thoughts were obviously in turmoil, a whirlwind of emotions crossing her face.

“Good,” Ari continued. “Now take another deep breath and let that one out slowly as well. The goal right now is to slow your breathing, slow your heart, and ignore any distractions while you concentrate on your Tol inside of you. I’m going to take your hands in mine, and you should feel my Tol as you have before.” This earned another sharp glance from Saress. “Allow it to happen.”

Tommy did as he was told, feeling the warm waves of sensation as they joined hands. The tingles grew inside him until his Tol flickered around like fireflies in the night. Ari’s eyes grew to encompass his vision, lit from within by an inner glow which was calm and relaxing to watch.

Slowly and quietly, she said, “Close your eyes, Tomilanthus. Let yourself feel.”

He did so. The pressure inside him continuing to grow.

The flickering of his Tol spread throughout his body from his head to his feet, moving to and fro all on its own. It felt warm, like the sun had just this afternoon on their march, and the warmth of that feeling soothed him. Eventually, he felt as if his whole body was bobbing on warm waves of feeling. He seemed to float, surrounded by the sensations inside of him.

“Now gather your Tol, Tomilanthus. Bring it to one place; it does not matter where. Gather it together and allow it to grow,” Ari said tranquilly, and he did as she asked.

He discovered his Tol seemed to want to be invited, instead of ordered or pushed around. And after a time, he found that if he just thought of a place inside him and waited, eventually the tingles would concentrate there. With the warmth of his Tol relaxing and filling him, he felt no urgency to hurry this process along. He found that if he almost ignored his Tol once it gathered, it would increase all on its own. It seemed to almost want to fill him. And once he discovered this, the tingles grew into a soft, solid radiance of pressure lit from within by the golden sparkles he was becoming used to seeing within Ari’s eyes.

“Good, Tomilanthus. Very good. Now continue what you are doing. You will feel my Tol enter you; allow it to happen. I will join with you, and our joining will make it easier for you to move your Tol around inside of you. Just relax and let it happen. It is just a feeling, nothing more.”

He felt the warm waves from her grasp become hotter and faster until there was a molten, pulsating feeling of potential in his grasp. This feeling grew, spreading from their clasped hands throughout his body to where he had gathered his Tol. Then it somehow both joined and wrapped securely around his own, not interfering with it in any way.

His Tol grew from the soft light it had been into something more bright and clear. Its edges now more defined and stable than the fading, fluid boundary it had been before. Distantly he thought he heard a soft gasp, but it barely registered as his Tol grew and grew until it was a brilliant shimmering gem of light from within.

“You are doing well, Tomilanthus. Now move your Tol from where it is to anywhere you choose in your body. Try to make it move slowly and deliberately, leaving a trail behind; not just flashing from one point to the next leaving nothing in between. It will do what you will it to, you just have to allow it to help you.”

He tried. And at first, nothing happened as he tried to push his Tol around. But remembering how he had gathered his Tol, he attempted to lead himself around his body and see if the Tol followed along behind. It did, with starts and stops at first, but with more successes the more he tried. He was almost asking it to follow him as he moved his consciousness around, pushing his awareness from one part of his body to another.

As he moved his Tol, a golden trail was left behind it in the darkness, marking where it had gone. After a time, he was lit from within by pathways of light as if someone had painted his insides with the rays of the sun, leaving trails with their brushstrokes in every place inside of him. His Tol was following the roads these brushstrokes made, lighting the way, and leaving no place in shadow.

Time took on new meaning as he basked in this inner labyrinth of light. It was almost as if a humming could be heard, but strangely without sound, that grew as time continued. It reached an eventual crescendo as a molten fire consumed him, pregnant with almost limitless potential.

“Excellent. Relax with your Tol. Embrace it. Be at peace with it. And when you are done, allow it to be done as well. Your Tol is your friend, companion, partner, mother, father, sister, and brother. It is all those things and more. It will always be there for you, as you will always be there for it. Accept it, Tomilanthus, and just be.”

Tommy had no idea how much time passed as he rode the waves of feeling he was experiencing. He felt relaxed, overjoyed, energized, and uplifted as he became one with himself and one with his Tol.

He remembered the web of light in the sky as he looked around the labyrinth inside him, bringing visions of Di’ii to his mind. Then his da’, who he somehow knew was half a boat length to his right. He saw his mum smile at him, felt her arms around him, almost smelling the flowers in her hair. Ari, almost at one with her through the connection of their hands. Then quick flashes of people, some he knew, some he had known, and some he’d never seen before. All passing by in quick succession as he floated serenely on an ocean of Tol.

Eventually, he felt himself become utterly at peace, and the feelings he was experiencing slowly, ever so slowly, drifted away.

There was a change within him, and he knew his Tol would always be there inside of him, waiting in readiness if he ever asked it to come again. But at the same time, he knew his Tol was strangely also somewhere else. Resting and gathering its strength while seeming to watch and observe. It almost seemed to acknowledge him, a feeling both friendly and safe.

As he came slowly back to himself, he could again feel Ari’s hands on his. Her Tol seemed to greet him with a soft thrumming of power at his acknowledgement of it. He opened his eyes to the encompassing vision of Ari’s own.

“Welcome back, Tomilanthus,” she greeted him. “You have made great strides this night.”

His vision continued to adjust, and her all-encompassing eyes retreated until he could see normally once again. It was fully dark, and the sounds of the night lit the forest around him. The fires had burned low, their embers barely visible in the darkness. He realized that many hours must have passed since they had begun, and was surprised he was not stiff or sore from sitting in one position for so long.

Ari’s face was lit with a brilliant smile, and she reached forward with both arms to wrap him up in a hug. “You are a wonder! I am so blessed I found you!”

He felt a wetness on his neck where her head nestled and she stayed that way for a time, holding him tightly. Tommy felt the warmth of her Tol through his skin warming him, as his Tol responded and warmed her in return. He could tell this moment was priceless, putting his arms around her, and they held one another tightly for a very long time.

With a final squeeze, Ari let go, smiling. “We need to get some sleep. Many hours have passed since the sun has set, and there is still a long way for us yet to go. Come, lie down. You’ll be exhausted from the Tol’An soon.”

Tommy let her guide him to lie on his blankets, and she covered him, giving him a kiss to his forehead. He was tired, and as sleep quickly took him, he finally noticed a glow in the darkness nearby. It was from the wide round eyes of Saress, who had never once stopped watching him.

Saress

Saress was on the verge of an apoplexy.

Her mind had been racing since the start of the day and continued as the troop marched along with her, watching the archers she’d been assigned to by that human: The Silverspear. ‘Donnor’ as he insisted on being called. He was on the other side of the formation and was doing everything in his power to destroy her preconceived notions of him.

Damn humans.

They bred like rodents and spread everywhere like a plague; destroying the natural world and replacing it with their buildings and ‘civilization’ wherever they went. However, this one seemed different, and acknowledging that fact annoyed her to no end.

And why is he so young!

He was supposed to be almost sixty, dotard, and at the end of his life.

This assignment is becoming complex.

It had started with joining the troop. The watcher had ordered her to join them, and he had left her without the ability to refuse after the debacle the night before. She’d been hidden and listening to Donnor and the dwarf talk about the volunteers they’d been offered. When Nisa Saliantrea had entered the room, she’d immediately done something with her Tol which instantly ended Saress’s ability to listen in.

That had been a shock as it was not something she’d been briefed on Saliantrea being able to do, and the watcher was not happy with her reporting of that development. But he was creative and adaptable as all watchers were, and had already added her to the list of volunteers before it had been given to the Silverspear. Expecting her to ‘try out’ was beyond ridiculous though, for what was basically a collection of walking corpses that didn’t yet know they were dead.

Some human thought one of the J’al’osil was going to compete to meet his standards? He thought he was going to command me? Ha!

Saress had called him something in her outrage which could generously be described as the seepage from his anus after being sodomized by a group of goblins. But she had forgotten in her ire that Nisa Saliantrea was standing right there beside her. She had felt the heat of Saliantrea’s Tol flaring white-hot with anger without even using her training to detect it, and thought it was over right then and there. But the Saliantrea held herself while the watcher intervened.

Which led to the next surprise. The watcher ordered her to apologize and not destroy a chance to stay with her charge, so she had. But the damn human didn’t do what humans usually did and bellow and rage after a blatant insult. He just stood there with a raised eyebrow, staring into her eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment, letting the awkwardness build to see if she was done, just like an elven strike leader would do. Then he simply ordered her to join a group.

She was so mortified by the damned human’s response which was so like her strike leaders, she reacted the same as she would have at home. She just left.

At least he didn’t know what she’d said.

Stupid human and his stupid eyebrow.

A startled bird caught her attention, but it had just been spooked by the pair of archers walking by so she returned to her ruminations.

Then there was that laughable run.

Three leagues? Ha!

She could run five leagues without rest, then run five more! The volunteers barely finished the three they did without collapsing, and they didn’t even run the entire way. Saress knew she was trained well beyond what was considered normal, but it had never been made so blatantly evident to her before.

She did her best to hide her abilities and blend in as the watcher had ordered, but it was hard to stop herself from instantly ending the life of the bigoted human who dared call Saliantrea a demon. And the damned Silverspear had just let him walk away!

Gaah! Did he welcome insults from any and all?

Saress shook herself from her building ire, glancing around and eventually resting her eyes on Tommy. Tomilanthus, she corrected, as she had learned his true name just the night before. Another mage; young, and powerful too. She looked away before he noticed her watching, and her mind blanked with what she’d witnessed last night while guarding the Tol’An.

Her ears plastered themselves against her skull as she remembered.

A Tol’An! In the wilderness! With a human?

She thought she’d been beyond being surprised by this assignment, but that would have shocked anyone from her toulon.

At least he is untrained, she thought irritably, studying him again.

Which brought her thoughts back to Saliantrea. Nisa Arisaylia Saliantrea, here, in the wilderness, with a human she followed. Any Saliantrea in the wilderness was unusual, but someone of her station? That was beyond strange. And for some reason she had come here in search of the Silverspear.

And she called him ilari!

She couldn’t help herself and gave ‘Ari’ another quick glance in her outrage.

A Saliantrea! Ilari! To a human! It could not be.

But the signs were there, and the human returned her favor in a way that cooled her outrage. The Silverspear looked at Saliantrea with everything he was in his eyes. It was so obvious they cared for one another that even those blind humans could see it.

Their scents even intermingled!

She snorted to clear her nose at the thought and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed her outrage. Of course not, they’re mostly oblivious humans after all.

What was Saliantrea’s game here? she wondered.

There was absolutely no way, no way at all, that Nisa Saliantrea did not know who and what Saress was. No way at all; none. And when Saress had been called to that human’s fire and placed in charge of the hunters, she could do nothing but accept. And damn that human if he didn’t treat her just like her strike leader would have again!

“Then the archers are yours until you screw up or I find someone better,” he’d said and just stopped. No chest-beating, no declarations of who was in charge, no masculine posturing; just a simple “do it”.

Saress sighed, then admonished herself to stop that before it became a habit.

At least Nisa Saliantrea had named her a pathfinder, the literal translation for her order, describing her as a scout for the army. I guess that is basically true, from a certain point of view, Saress thought absently. But to call the J’al’osil ‘scouts’ was glossing over so much of what they did it made their name almost meaningless.

Pathfinders were given tasks, and it was up to them to find the path to complete it. That sounded simple enough at first, but if one had to arrange the assassination of a king to complete one’s task, that is what one did. And there was no way Nisa Saliantrea didn’t know that.

The J’al’osil reported to the mages after all.

Sirikii was guarded by its magics, and the Vale was as well. Every mage participated in the constant upkeep of their land’s protections, and that protection was all but impenetrable. But there were just some things that the mages simply couldn’t do. That was where the J’al’osil came in.

The mages discovered a problem, and the pathfinders found the path to solve it. Every mage in the city was trained to work with the pathfinders from their earliest lessons in college. And the J’al’osil took their charge to protect the mages when they weren’t on assignment seriously in return.

Yes, they technically worked with and held rank in the army when the mages deployed with it. But the army hadn’t deployed for centuries, so the point was basically moot.

So, what was she thinking? Saress asked herself, glancing again at ‘Ari’. She was walking along behind the haggard formation, chatting amiably with ‘Tommy’.

And who is Tomilanthus anyway?

He wasn’t part of her briefing when she had left Sirikii and been assigned to this out of the way place, and the watcher stationed here. Tomilanthus was certainly not part of the watchers briefing to her beyond the fact that someone matching his age was expected to be accompanying the Silverspear; his son.

So, was this actually his son?

The Silverspear said Tomilanthus was his son, but then the Silverspear would have to be mageborn for Tomilanthus to have Tol. And there was certainly no mage hiding in the villages around here to spawn his get, as uneducated and superstitious as the villagers were about Tol.

So, who was the mage Tomilanthus got his magic from?

Nisa Saliantrea spent almost every one of her waking moments with Tomilanthus and the Silverspear, and the boy's importance and how he fit into this assignment was driving Saress slowly mad.

And why was she assigned to a watcher and not a mage anyway! Gaah!

She knew of Nisa Saliantrea beyond her briefing, every pathfinder did. Most of the mages were arrogant and dismissive, treating the J’al’osil like part of the furniture. It was annoying, but their primary relationship was one of principal and guard, and nothing more was needed for it to work.

Nisa Saliantrea was one of the few who had always treated those assigned to her as the people they were, which the pathfinders appreciated. As a result, being assigned to her was always a relief because of it. She was nothing like her father, Na’Tor Saliantrea, one of the Wi’Jitikiin, who treated them more like playing pieces to be arranged on the board and with as much consideration. No, Nisa Saliantrea was one of the better charges, even when she had withdrawn into seclusion and they had barely been needed.

The J’al’osil who had guarded her during that time had been bound to secrecy by the Tol of the masters, so nothing was known. She had heard rumors that the many years of solitude had something to do with the Silverspear, but any rumor as to how or why was quickly squashed. And the pathfinders who had known them from that time were either unavailable or on other assignments before she’d left.

Damn briefing.

She’d never experienced such a lack of information on an assignment before. And the lack of information was disturbing, as disturbing as it was unusual.

She at least knew something about the Silverspear. He was a human with an unknown background and place of origin, who had suddenly appeared in the Vale around thirty years ago without setting off any of the wards, or passing any of the border watchers in the process. Discovering his origin and how he had done that was one of the primary tasks of anyone who encountered him; the security of the Vale was at stake.

Along with separating him from the spear.

Which he didn’t have.

Damn human.

She cursed him again while glaring at him from deep within her hood. He was there on the other side of the troop from her, periodically chatting with the men while walking back and forth along the line. It was something any good commander would do, and the fact that he did it so effortlessly showed his competence with command.

She had been briefed on what they knew of him from his time around the Vale, but her briefing didn’t do the man justice, and it pained her to admit it. He was a natural leader, easy to understand, cared for his troops, and generally made good decisions. She was reminded again of her strike leaders and looked away in irritation.

A known ‘adventurer’, the Silverspear had commanded more than one company of guards keeping the trade caravans safe as they traveled between the Vale and the surrounding cities. He had been good at it too, earning a reputation that eventually allowed him limited access to Sirikii itself. She had even been told that the J’al’osil used his caravans as cover to transport them from place to place because of their unusual safety, a direct result of his competence in command.

It had been a shock to those who knew him when he was banished from the Vale. And no one, not one person she had questioned who had watched him before, had information as to why. Even the unit that had escorted him from their borders had been transferred.

Why were you banished, Silverspear?

While he had been in the Vale, he was almost always accompanied by a dwarf, and she looked at Mikus with that thought. The Mikus she was briefed on was certainly not the Mikus she was experiencing here. But then, not much was known about the Mikus from the slums around Sirikii except that he was a retired warrior of Clan Gemhands from Khagatom, working as a simple smith's assistant. That Mikus had fled to Sirikii from an orc incursion, which had eventually been put down by the city guard, and worked in a smithy to help support his wife and young babe. This Mikus was reportedly a forester and a dwarf like any other; gruff, rough, and rude.

Damn dwarves.

She’d thought the elves were insular, but the dwarves took it to extremes so there was no way she’d learn more about him by just asking. She’d eventually find out if the two Mikus’s were the same, but that was not one of her primary tasks.

No, the task she had been sent to this area for was to search out the Silverspear, and separate him from the spear if she could. It was an ancient elven relic, thought lost for millennia. She had been told it was known to mystically bond to the one it chose to carry it, and it protected them. But beyond it making pretty lights when swung, she knew nothing else.

The fact that Donnor had just suddenly appeared with it already bonded to him in the Vale had reportedly filled the lords with consternation. The lords Wi’Jitikiin were anxious to have it returned to Sirikii, and finding him, and it, was a primary task. A primary task not just for her, but for any J’al’osil who encountered him.

Why it hadn’t been kept in the Vale when he was banished all those years ago, she had no idea. It certainly would have been easier if they’d just taken it from him then, but her questioning along that line was quashed so quickly and thoroughly that she had almost lost her tongue before she could completely form the thought.

That was beyond odd, she admitted as she studied him. But not as shocking as an ancient relic bonding with some damn human in the first place.

Saress sighed again.

This was supposed to have been easy, she complained, remembering how she’d been told he would be almost sixty years old. That was about how long humans lived anyway. And if all else failed, she could have just waited until he was dead of old age to recover the spear. But he acted like a man in the prime of his life, like the stories she’d been told about him when he was still in the Vale.

She was startled when Donnor said from close beside her, “Saress, we’ll be resting soon. Have your archers stop us at the next water source they come across, then set a patrol. The spears will replace you after they’ve had a chance to rest. Once everyone is rested, we’ll continue with training before we come to the next camp this evening.”

“Yes, Donnor.” Saress moved past the front of the line to the forward pair of archers to pass on his orders.

Damn. How in the name of the lost gods did he get so close without me noticing? she wondered irritably as she passed along the orders to the other scouts. He could certainly move quickly and quietly when he wanted to. Yes, that must be it, she thought. It certainly couldn’t be because of being distracted.

Damn human.

This assignment is getting complicated. Donnor Silverspear is right here, but he doesn’t have the spear. Where is the spear?

The watcher wanted to keep track of Saliantrea, which at the moment is easy enough. But there was ilari between Saliantrea and the Silverspear, and she had yet to figure out if and how it affected things.

And how did that happen?

Ilari was not something just bandied about. It was so rare as to be almost unique. Saress flattened her ears beneath her hood.

Ilari is something girls dream about!

Then there was Tomilanthus, who was a mage and smelled only partially human with a scent of elf. He had to be completely human, no matter what her nose told her with the superstitions in this place. And there were no elves in the entire area for the Silverspear to have mated with. Besides, the watcher had said the Silverspear had been mated to another human in his village for almost twenty years, after all. Considering how much time the boy spent with Saliantrea, that could be her scent, Saress admitted, watching her touch him again. But his scent would be constantly intermingled with hers as long as she kept touching him, so it was hard to tell.

Nisa Saliantrea paid Tomilanthus an inordinate amount of attention considering her station, and she appeared to be taking charge of him and beginning his training. Considering the amount of raw power he radiated last night, it was understandable her interest in him. But then she had shared Tol with him in a Tol’An.

A Tol’An!

That was as close to being forbidden as one could get, and unheard of outside of a mated pair of mages to share themselves so openly. What drove a Saliantrea of all people to share Tol with a boy? she wondered. Her ears flattened themselves again to her skull. And a human boy at that!

That was definitely a mystery amongst all the other mysteries of this group, and her eyes were drawn to each of the primary figures as she walked.

One of the forward archers signaled he’d found water, and the troop came to rest. As she walked around the troop, arranging her archers into better positions, she kept thinking about what she had seen the night before.

Nisa Saliantrea was a mage prodigy. Her ease and power with her Tol was a given fact, reportedly even the envy of the masters. The boy, Tomilanthus she corrected, was easily as powerful as Saliantrea, and that was shocking in itself as mages with Saliantrea’s ability were almost unique. The last mage with her innate level of skill died almost a millennia ago, and the entire Vale mourned that mage’s passing.

The connection to living things that was Nisa Saliantrea’s Tol could easily be identified by its color when manifested. Saress had seen its colors, and many other specialties of Tol exercised into visible sight while performing her duties in the college. And the various forms had long been studied and categorized, considered common knowledge in the college, even to the J’al’osil.

But while only a glimpse of Arisaylia’s and Tomilanthus’s magics had escaped while they were joined in Tol’An, she’d been utterly unprepared for what she seen. She should have been able to tell where his power lay by its color in and instant. But with all of her training, and the many decades she had spent around mages, she could not identify Tomilanthus’s Tol in the slightest.

And that fact, disturbed her.

The First Attack

Tommy thought about what a good day it had been as he sat leaning back on one elbow, listening to the trilling of the correts. He’d woken from sleep this morning energized. And though he had some soreness leftover from the day before, the feel of his Tol within him more than took his mind off of it.

It had started around breakfast, just after he’d finished concentrating on rolling his blankets and fixing his pack. His Tol had suddenly gathered and seemed to follow along with his hands, almost curious and inquisitive about what he was doing. If that was even possible, he wondered as he watched one of the correts snap up a big flying insect that had gotten too close.

His Tol seemed to follow his awareness like he was pointing his finger at whatever he was concentrating on, and it moved to quickly investigate it. This is just the strangest thing.

And when he mentioned it to Ari with growing concern, she smiled brightly and said, “You’re Tol is awake, Tomilanthus. It wants to help you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted its help or not, but it certainly added a new dimension to whatever he was doing. If he concentrated on something, his Tol was there. If he moved to grab something, his Tol was there. It was even there when he got nervous at being eyed by Camm’s corret, feeling strangely protective if that was even possible for someone's Tol to be.

He wasn’t even going to think about what happened when he left camp to relieve himself. Nope, not one bit. Didn’t happen. And he certainly wasn’t blushing thinking about it now. His Tol awoke inside him and started searching out the target of his embarrassment.

Gaah!

Tommy struggled to think about anything else, and eventually his Tol returned to wherever it came from, the feeling of it diminishing back to just being barely there. Phew, that was close. The last thing I needed was for it to ... nope ... not thinking about that ... nope, nope, nope. He focused his thoughts and returned to thinking about the day's events.

After eating and putting out the fires, Saress had moved around the troop instructing them all again on hiding their camp as best they could. After she was done, Tommy could barely tell they’d even been there, beyond the flattening of the grass where they’d lain, and some broken twigs in the brush. It was amazing how quickly and competently she hid their presence, and she easily passed that knowledge along to the troop.

Saress was standoffish, but didn’t seem like she was being intentionally mean to anyone, at least to him. And her features were just something he’d never imagined, he thought, as he glanced her way. He’d never seen anything like them, and wished he had the courage to ask her about it. But he was pretty sure he’d be dead before finishing his question, so he kept his mouth shut.

Mum had always told him never to ask anything you knew was going to upset someone. Thinking about that came with a feeling of grief he shied away from, before his Tol could investigate that as well.

His da’ had instructed all of them how to carry their shield this morning before they left camp. They held their shields in their left hand, and besides the leather strap to hold on to, there were two other straps that looped and tied the shield to their forearm. His da’ explained that it was designed this way so their shield hand could be free in a pinch, and showed them by holding his spear in both hands with his shield equipped.

Carrying the shield strapped to his arm wasn’t awkward, but it certainly did add an unaccustomed weight that threw him off-balance once or twice. More than one of the men turned their shields around to take a look at it on themselves, with a few playfully banging them against each other’s. Keris put a stop to that, explaining that the sound carried a long distance. Then, shortly after the fun had ended, they’d left the clearing and returned to the path, continuing their way west towards Resthaven.

Saress had long since deployed her archers to their accustomed positions surrounding the troop, and they walked all morning before their stop. Ari had spent that time either talking to Tommy or the gnome handlers about inconsequential things, or spent time instructing Tommy on his Tol.

Ari seemed to want him to ask her questions, and though his questions started hesitantly at first, he eventually became more comfortable, and the questions came more frequently. He learned that his Tol was indeed the same magic he’d heard about in tales, and that someday he’d be able to do things with it. Ari avoided getting too specific, but confirmed that she’d start teaching him some of those things soon. And after hearing that, he daydreamed about the wild stories of mages and magic he’d heard back in the village.

He learned that his Tol was always going to be a part of him for the rest of his life. That while now it was wild and uncontrolled, he’d learn how to work with it so it didn’t come forward unless he wanted it to. She laughed at him for worrying about doing something wrong, and told him to play around with it for now.

“Just have fun,” she’d said.

So, he did. He was honest enough to admit that he didn’t have much control of it, and it was a struggle to get it to move where he wanted it to. But it was fun to play around with, and he distracted himself trying to get it to move as they walked. Ari hadn’t been surprised at all by the difficulty he was having. Confirming that even though the Tol’An had made it much, much easier for him to call on his Tol, he would still have to practice to control it.

So, he kept at it.

His Tol was like an invisible puppy inside of him, chasing his thoughts wherever they went. And just like a puppy, it was instantly distracted and wandered off whenever his thoughts changed direction. Eventually, he could roughly get it to go where he wanted it to inside of him, but he had a lot of problems getting it to ignore him constantly thinking about his aching feet.

His da’ continued his exercise of asking who’d seen what as they passed or startled animals around them, offering congratulations to those who did. It seemed such a simple thing, but he’d explained to Tommy that he did it to ensure the troop kept their eyes up and watching around them at all times. Keris commented that more than one formation of the guard had been completely wiped out over the years because they had been taken by surprise. With that sobering thought, Tommy watched around him with much greater interest. His Tol seemed interested as well, almost like it was looking over his shoulder.

By the time they’d stopped around midday, they’d traveled quite some distance. The terrain had changed from the plains of grass and scattered groves they’d been traveling through, to more hills and trees. It was a nice change, as when they crested a hill they could see for a long way around them. It seemed the terrain became mostly wooded hills in the distance, with mountains barely seen on the horizon.

The stream they’d stopped at was cool, and more than one member of the troop removed their boots to cool their feet in it. It was then that Ari came to the fore and earned the eternal gratitude of everyone there.

She healed their blisters.

Ari, taking one look at the oozing blisters on Gart’s heels and feet, all but held him down to heal his wounds. It scared every single one of them at first, this intently serious woman with glowing hands, but after Gart began weeping in relief the rest of the troop was sold. It took Ari almost half an hour to make her rounds amongst the men, and every one of them thanked her profusely.

She scolded each and every one of them for not saying anything, and then tore into his da’ with a scathing tongue to care more for his men. Donnor took his public rebuke in silence, then took to one knee with a tremendous smile, spreading his arms wide. Saying something about a great healer blessing his unworthy men, he thanked her extravagantly.

Ari walked away with a loud humph, an absolute vision of irritation and frustration, drawing laughter from all around. Tommy, who saw her hidden smile that she blocked from the troop, held his laughter, realizing they had put on the whole act entirely for the men.

Saress, he noticed, was standing off by herself, silently watching the whole thing from within her hood as well. Who knows what she thinks. Tommy just enjoyed the sensation of feet that didn’t hurt.

After the healing was complete, and everyone had had a chance to rest, the troop returned to their feet and began training. The training today would be completely different his da’ explained. Instead of training by themselves or by rank, this time they’d be training as a troop against each other.

Donnor had them line up by rank, facing each other, while he walked in between explaining what they’d be doing. “You all have learned the different positions and commands. You’ve all felt the shock of hitting something with your spear. You’ve tried to hit each other, and learned how close you have to be. But now, now we’re going to throw defense into the mix.

“Mikus, Keris, and I are going to line you up facing one another in pairs. Then you’re going to try and strike each other again like you did yesterday. But this time, you have a shield. Use it!

“Your job is to hit your opponent in the chest with your spear. Not the head, not the legs; just the chest. Each of the pairs will be practicing in front of one of us, one pair at a time. The rest will watch as they’re waiting their turn, so if there’s something that needs pointing out, you can instantly see what we’re talking about. Any questions? No? Good.

“Keris, get them sorted into pairs. Mikus, Saress, Ari, come here a moment.”

Keris called Tommy and the two gnome handlers over and started sorting everyone out. He had each pair walk over to one of the three areas set aside for them. Eventually, roughly ten people were at each of the three areas waiting for his da’ to finish talking.

“... going to make a lot of noise, so push the archers out. Ari, there shouldn’t be any major injuries, but I want you ready just in case. Stay close.” Donnor said.

Saress walked off with a nod and started making her rounds, spreading out the pairs of archers. She split up the pairs, and had one member stay where they were while the other walked away into the distance. Tommy couldn’t see all of them because of the hills, but it looked like they spread out so that they became like rings around a bullseye; the center being the area where the training was about to take place.

Mikus said something about the sentries being too far apart, but his da’ asked clearly, “What would you have me do?” Mikus didn’t look too happy about that, but made no reply. With nothing left to say, each of them moved to one of the training groups. And when Saress returned, she nodded at Donnor taking up position near Ari.

“Okay ya’ louts, let’s start,” Mikus called out. “First groups, c’mon up here an’ turn yer’ spears around. Ye did this yesterday, so ya’ already be knowin’ how ta’ do it. Now, yer’ gonna’ be tryin’ ta’ hit one another. I don’ want ta’ be seein’ any girly hits, neither! Ya’ all be feelin’ how ta’ hit somethin’ yesterday, so I want ta’ see tha’ same hits on yer’ opponent today. Ready? Begin!”

The first groups looked at each other and started cautiously. There was a lot of footwork, with the first group spending more time moving around than anything else. That seemed to annoy Mikus, who eventually got upset enough to say something about it.

“By tha’ gods! Yer no’ at a grand ball! If ye think ya’ are, I be puttin’ ya’ in a dress! Hit ‘im ya’ fool!”

Hearing that simple threat, and believing every bit of it, they started striking out at one another. To say it was sloppy was being nice. To say it was uncoordinated was being generous. To say it was rough was an understatement. But strikes did start thrusting out, and there were a few solid BAMs and WHACKs as strikes struck true.

Tommy watched and began to notice it was very important where your weight was placed to land a strike. When you struck out, all your weight went forward; and if you stayed like that for too long, the other person could knock you down. This happened quite a few times, and Tommy started to feel bad for Torrist, a human from first rank who kept getting knocked over because of this.

After about a quarter hour, Mikus called for the first pairs to stop, and they switched out with a new group. This next group began, and the same thing happened again. A lot of movement, but not much striking until once again Mikus got frustrated.

“By tha’ gods, I be makin’ tha’ dresses!”

Which instantly got a response. This time no one got knocked down, but Donnor called Gart out and said to stay with him because he was just punishing the person he was against with his strength. Gart’s opponent looked at his da’ gratefully as Gart was replaced with someone more his size.

At the next switch it was Tommy’s turn, and he was across from Beran from rank two. With a command of “Begin!” from Keris, Tommy lowered his weight onto bent knees and slowly advanced. Beran struck out with his spear, which glanced off Tommy’s shield before he really even acknowledged the strike.

Tommy realized with the spear in both hands and his shield on his left arm, the shield was angled so anything that hit it would glance off to his left. Unfortunately, while he was realizing this and making a strike of his own, Beran danced to the side. He got another solid strike on Tommy’s shield, throwing Tommy off-balance and almost knocking him down. With a grin of victory Beran struck out again but ended up missing entirely, and they continued to circle one another.

By the end of their turn at practice, Tommy had lost some skin on his knuckles, and his left arm was sore from taking strikes on his shield, but at least he hadn’t taken any hits to his body. Tommy hadn’t gotten a hit on his opponent’s body either, and Beran was shaking his left arm from his last strike which had been particularly hard against his shield.

Beran was dirty as he’d fallen down at one point while Tommy had pressed him. And Tommy had backed off, letting him rise instead of hitting him while he was down. Keris sarcastically teased him about being awfully nice to an enemy who was trying to kill him, and Tommy felt about as tall as a mouse as he left the ring. But he felt a lot better when Beran thanked him after the match, and they both put their heads together comparing notes while the next match started.

Accompanied by the clacking of spears on shields, the troop watched as the practice bouts continued. There were a few good hits, one of which Mikus called Ari to come and look at. She ended up healing the man of a broken rib, drawing a few curious glances when he complained it tickled, but mostly there were only bruises. By the time the last groups were practicing, the troop was calling out advice and cheering the combatants on.

After they all had taken a turn, Mikus called for everyone to relax and eat while Donnor practiced with Gart. He felt sorry for Gart at first, but there was none of the spinning and lightning strikes that Tommy remembered from the duel. No, his da’ used the same things that he’d taught all of them, just with more precision.

Gart hit his da’s shield more than once, and Tommy wondered if his da’ was letting him do it on purpose. But every time Donnor took a hit, he grunted from the force of Gart’s strike. Then he struck back quickly, forcing Gart to move so he couldn’t get another strike in. After their time was up, his da’ thanked Gart for the good workout and made a big production of shaking his shield arm out, much to the amusement of everyone around.

While the men continued eating, Mikus called for everyone's attention. “All right, simmer down. After ya’ be decidin’ ye were no’ wearin’ dresses, ya’ did okay. But here be some things ta’ keep in mind, ‘cause we be doin’ it again in a moment.”

He went on to explain problems with footing, problems with grip, and admonished people to strike out more often and be more aggressive; not to sit back and think. He said something about “No’ havin’ heavy armor,” and that they had to strike first. It didn’t make much sense to Tommy, but he figured Mikus knew what he was talking about, so he’d do it anyway.

After Mikus’s instruction, he got everyone back on their feet and started the training again. This time, there was only a short delay between the command “Begin!” and the first strikes shooting out.

Ladig, one of the gnomes, let out an impressive yell and charged straight in, unfortunately right into the dwarf Karn’s spear. He ended up taking the butt of Karn’s spear on his immense nose, which bled profusely as he sank to the ground in a daze. That called a halt to practice while he was picked up off the ground and healed by Ari, who scolded him for hurting himself. This spurred a lesson from Keris to not charge in without looking first, accompanied by more laughter as Ladig nodded emphatically, rubbing his newly healed nose.

Tommy had been in the fourth group this time and had landed a solid hit on Beran that had gotten past his shield. He was helping Beran back onto his feet when a gurgling scream echoed in the distance followed by the haunting sound of a loud whooOOP close by. His head snapped around to see huge ondilaani warriors charging them from between two hills, just twenty strides away.

And with that, the screaming began.

“TO ARMS! TURN YOUR SPEARS AROUND!” Donnor yelled. This was followed by “FIRST RANK ON ME!” and “SECOND RANK ON ME!” being shouted by Mikus and Keris almost simultaneously.

Some of the men of the ranks stood frozen in shock for a second, Tommy included, but heartbeats later everyone ran for Mikus and Keris who were screaming at them to form a line facing the ondilaan. “READY!” Donnor commanded before the lines finished assembling. And without thinking, everyone snapped into position with their spears pointed towards the charging enemy.

Tommy quickly spun his spear around, desperately trying to find Ari and the gnome handlers while running towards where he was supposed to be. He was the last one he realized, farthest away from the forming lines as he scrambled and frantically searched. And after a panicked moment, he found them.

On the other side of the troop.

There was no way he was going to get to them in time before the ondilaan caught up. And after coming to that desperate realization, he felt a sudden calm acceptance that there was no way he was going to escape. So, in resignation, he spun around assuming the ready position, facing his enemy, with the troop still many strides away from where fate had chosen for him to make his stand.

Alone.

Tommy noticed an ondilaani warrior who seemed to have set its wild eyes on him. He observed it in a strangely detached manner as the sounds around him seemed to dwindle away into silence. Its head was somewhere between a dog and a bear, with rounded ears on the top, and a roughly spiked black mane that disappeared from his sight as it traveled down its back.

The warrior was cackling through its snarling teeth in a terrifying way as if it was laughing at his choice to face it. Its neck was as thick as its head and strangely elongated, covered in short tan fur with brownish-black spots, that ended in broad, muscular shoulders. Tommy watched a long string of drool coming from the left side of the warrior’s mouth with three, now four droplets breaking from it, almost in slow motion.

How strange.

Tommy heard a muted concussion off to his right where the troop was standing its ground, but Tommy paid it no mind as he watched the ondilaan finish its charge.

They run on their toes, he observed watching how its claws dug into the ground for added traction.

A strange feeling of detachment flowed over him like an icy breeze as he remembered his training. Goosebumps formed almost individually in slow motion as he firmed his grip on his spear in both hands. He spread his weight evenly between his feet, and settled in behind his shield, while the ondilaani warrior closed the last few feet.

When Tommy could clearly see the dilated pupil within the yellow of the warriors’ predatory eyes, he thrust out with his spear. He felt his strike land, then immediately returned to his starting position, settling his weight onto his back leg while raising his shield.

Then something hit him.

And it all went black.

Reflection

Tommy was sitting on the ground a little bit away from everyone else, leaning on his pack, and staring at the ondilaani warrior he’d killed.

They have strange legs. I wonder how this one got that scar on its thigh. He continued to stare blankly at the corpse. There isn’t much blood.

He numbly watched the gathering flies investigate the ragged hole his spear had made in its chest before it had crashed into him. The flies had apparently invited their friends, and they seemed to like buzzing in and out of the hole. A strange pungent odor wafted from the dead warrior that he remembered smelling before; at Lakeside.

He shuddered.

Tommy had awoken on the ground with a frantic Ari hovering over him, crying and babbling in elvish. Her hands were like two suns as she pressed them to his chest, blinding in their intensity. He could feel her Tol’s immense weight on him, and when she saw his eyes open, the light snapped off and she gathered him up with a sob into a fierce hug. His da’ was there too, and he’d wrapped them both into his arms before he returned to the troop, calling out orders as he went.

Ari eventually let him go after Donnor called out to her, and she ran to his side to heal as many people as she could.

Tommy missed her hug. It was nice.

A fly crawled into the dead warrior’s mouth and walked through the drool still seeping from between its teeth, to get further in. Turred, from first rank, dragged a body of one of the fallen to a central pile, past the warrior he’d killed. He met Tommy’s haunted eyes with a nod, the warrior’s body making a shushing sound against the earth as he dragged it along. There were a lot of flies over there too, Tommy noticed, absently watching Turred drag the body away.

Mikus and Keris were everywhere talking to everyone while looking for wounds and other problems from their stunned troops. Their voices were easily heard in the subdued silence, congratulating people for what they’d done right, reminding them of the training they’d done, how it helped, and how many ondilaan they’d killed. The men’s spirits improved with their words, and they slowly started talking about their experiences amongst themselves.

Listening to the men in the ranks talk, Tommy learned one of the archers had died having had his throat torn out, the ondilaan trying to silence him as they approached. Two more had been killed in first rank, not having had themselves completely set before the ondilaan completed their charge. That was apparently the huge sound Tommy’d heard, listening to the men describe how the two forces met. More than one person had gone down in first rank under the attackers’ sheer weight. But second rank was there, and they’d struck out and successfully killed their attackers.

Tommy sighed as Turred grabbed his warrior’s front paw-hands and dragged it away, moving to place it on top of the pile. The flies were upset, billowing around Turred at his affront for moving their feast. The warrior’s body flopped into place on the pile with its eyes strangely empty, facing the sky.

It sounded like Saress had killed three or four on her own; with consistent and wondering murmurs saying she shot them straight through the eye. There were conflicting stories as to her total number, but no one disputed her deadly aim. The rest of the archers had gotten three more after running towards the sounds of battle, but the ondilaan were too close for them to shoot much before the charge was met.

The spears had killed eight of the ondilaani warriors, most during the initial charge. His da’ had killed two on his own according to what Fald was saying, having stayed with the troop to stiffen their resolve. His loud commands were all some of the men could remember, though not the words themselves. Keris said that was the instinct they were trying to train that he’d been talking about the other day.

In the end, it didn’t matter how many were dead, Tommy figured. They were alive, and a strange hollow feeling filled him with that thought.

Ari worked tirelessly on the wounded, her glowing hands healing them all. She ignored the gasps of amazement as she worked her way through the men, making even the most horrific wound disappear.

“Mikus. Keris. Get them up,” his da’ called out. “Keep stripping the bodies of weapons and armor. Have anything you find worth keeping put on the correts for now. We are leaving in a few moments. Leave the bodies, we don’t have time to bury them. Saress, to me!”

Tommy numbly got to his feet, grabbed his gear, and walked over to the handlers. Alarat and Camm were speaking to an archer that joined them and was helping them load things on the correts.

Saress, hearing Donnor’s call, jogged to his side. He spoke to her in a quiet voice, with her nodding a few times before gathering her archers and deploying them into two pairs west along the path, two pairs to the south, and a final pair to the north. The lone archer stayed with Alarat and Camm, continuing to help load, saying he’d been assigned to them for now.

By the time the archers deployed, the ranks had reformed with the men standing quietly, talking amongst themselves. The first rank was noticeably shorter than the second. Nothing was said, but the empty places in line caught more than one, long, haunted look.

Ari looked exhausted; her face drawn as she joined Tommy. A concerned look crossed her face as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and inspected him. He met her eyes dully and she gave him a squeeze.

“We need to leave, now,” Donnor said. “This could have been a scouting party, or it could have been outriders from a larger group. We don’t know. We are going to be moving out at a jog. Keep your spears down, that way no one can see them waving in the air in the distance. When we slow to a walk, keep them down. We’ll be working off of hand signals you don’t know yet, so do your best to follow along. Pay attention to the person in front of you and do what they do. Let’s go.”

Donnor then made a series of hand signals that started Mikus and Keris leading them off at a jog. The archers had evidently been waiting for this, and they started off at almost the same time, keeping a wary eye on everything around them. Saress was near his da’, and all that could be heard as they moved out was the sound of the troops' feet rhythmically striking the ground, accompanied by the breeze through the grass.

The troop was motivated to leave the sight of the battle. They fell into an easy rhythm, keeping pace with one another much better than they had ever done before. After many long minutes, much longer than they’d run previously, Mikus looked back and exchanged signs with his da’ and the troop slowed to a walk.

They kept up the silent rhythm of running and walking for some time until they could see another grove in the distance that the path wound through. The forward archers stopped many bow shots from the treeline, and then the troop came to a halt. Donnor said something quietly to Saress, then made hand signals to Mikus and Keris while she jogged off, gathering the archers and disappearing into the grove. Meanwhile, Mikus and Keris waved the handlers forward, nestling Tommy’s group between the two ranks with everyone in the ranks facing out at the ready. There was some quiet talking, but nothing that could have been heard from more than a few steps away.

After a long while which only added to the tension, Saress returned and spoke to his da’ before making her way back into the grove. Donnor made some more hand motions to Mikus and Keris and they got their ranks moving, following her into the woodline, with Tommy’s group following along behind. They were eventually led well off the northern side of the path and into a large circular depression, surrounded on all sides by a raised rim of high ground.

Donnor called out softly when they stopped, “Build fires by ranks. Sentries on the inner side of the rim. The archers will be returning. No yelling, and keep your voices down.” With that, he turned and moved to the southernmost edge of the rim and stopped, taking up a position to look out with only his head exposed.

There was barely any wood in the depression, but Tommy and a few of the men were soon directed by one of the returning archers to gather in the trees on the other side of the northern rim. They found a rivulet of flowing water there, barely a trickle, but were able to dam it up enough so you could fill your hand. Tommy returned with some wood, spread word about the water, and the men left taking turns filling their skins as they got the fires going while being directed to eat.

His da’ called the leaders over to his fire. “I screwed up,” Donnor said without preamble. “I didn’t expect the ondilaan in those numbers this close to Redtail. And I certainly didn’t expect them to be able to get so close to the troop without being seen. We’re lucky we got set in time. I could say that the experience will help the men, but I won’t. We were lucky, and callousness on my part won’t help.”

“Aye, we be takin’ an attack, but who ‘o us be knowin’ they be there? You? Yer’ no’ a seer,” Mikus said dismissively.

Saress spoke up quietly, “The archers are shaken. The man whose throat was ripped out was a favorite, and very experienced being on his own. They snuck up on Mallan unawares; the archers know it, and feel exposed. The ondilaan must have started their stalk when the first practice bouts started, probably drawn by their noise. His scream saved us.”

“I held myself back as you asked and did what I could, but I could not save them all, Ilari,” Ari said in a resigned, exhausted voice. “I am sorry.”

“For what?” Keris asked incredulously. “You saved nine men down with stab wounds, four with broken bones, Haleran’s throat was almost torn out just like Mallan’s, and he all but had his chest crushed in!” He hooked a thumb towards Tommy. “That’s almost half our force, not even mentioning the three that are dead. We couldn’t have helped anyone in the condition we were in, and would have had to go back to the Hold just to treat the wounded. And more would have probably died on the way!

“Your magic saved us from all of that. There is nothing to be sorry for, my Lady! We are thankful. Don’t you think otherwise!”

“From his lips, Ilari,” Donnor said tiredly while Saress turned her head to look at him. Ari nodded in acceptance at this, though her eyes welled up saying differently. “Saress, we need to know how secure we are in here. Share what you’ve told me since the attack.”

“There is no sign of the ondilaan in this grove, and it appears untouched,” she said. “The last sign of anything was reported by one of the southern pairs who saw a path through the grass about a half a league to the south. I moved to observe as we passed, and it could have been anything from a traveling group of refugees, to a war party, to a herd of animals. We did not stop, so there is no way to know who or what traveled that way. We lost sight of it an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Saress. We are going to operate on the premise that we destroyed the only group of ondilaan in this area.” Mikus shifted his weight. “This is a blatant lie as there’s no way to know that, but the troop needs to hear it. They are stunned, shocked, and subdued. They weren’t ready for that kind of an attack, and some are only now realizing it. We need to nip any morale issues in the bud immediately. We also need a good night’s sleep. Ari, can you protect us?”

Ari met his eyes for a long moment. “There are some things I can do, but not provide protection from a direct attack in those numbers. I can make us seem part of the wood, make a loose barrier, a warning if anything approaches, and many other things. But nothing I can do will stop a tribe of charging warriors.” She looked at him quizzically. “You know this, Donnor.”

“Yes, Ari, I do. They don’t.” He waved his hand around the circle indicating the other leaders. “Can you blend us with the wood? We can keep their noise down easily enough for tonight. That way, we can just place the men on the rim, keeping everyone within sight and give them a break.”

“Yes, Ilari.”

“Saress, get the archers who can hunt to do so. See if they can bring down a deer so we can have a hot meal. The breeze is from the south. So, between that, the grove, and this position, it should mask the scent of cooking meat from the ondilaan. If they don’t want to hunt, set them to shooting at practice targets. Keep everyone busy and their minds off of today.

“Mikus, Keris, you too. Teach the men basic hand signals, go through the ondilaan gear, do things to distract the men then get them bedded down. Watch for tonight is in pairs on the rim, pair the archers with the spears so the hunters can pass on some of what they know. Get to it, I’ll join you in a moment.” The three acknowledged their orders and moved off.

Donnor paused in silence, meeting Tommy’s eyes with his own. “Tommy … you scared me boy. You did an amazing job, but when I saw you stop and take that charge … you scared me.”

“I couldn’t get to the line in time, Da’,” Tommy said, feeling as if he had to defend himself.

“No. And there was no way you could have. You were too far away and you did the right thing. Nothing you could have done would have changed what happened. I know it, Mikus knows it, hell half the troop knows it. What you did was very brave, something I usually only see in trained warriors.”

He glanced at Ari before continuing. “Your mum would be very proud. Tell me what happened.”

“I couldn’t get to the line. I saw you, and Mikus, and Keris, and Ari, but you were all too far away. There was no way I could get there before the ondilaan got to me, and all of a sudden, I just got calm. Suddenly there was plenty of time to think, so I turned around and did what you taught us. I remember hearing a huge noise, but it was like it was far away, not affecting me at all. And the warrior, he just seemed to run at me in slow motion and wait for me to strike. So, I did. Then I got set to brace, and that's all I remember.”

“That’s a lot.” Donnor’s eyes widened. “Most don’t remember even half that much.” He gave Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It could be his Tol, Ilari. His Tol is awake, and it will try to help him unknowingly. He needs guidance, and training. Now.”

“I agree. I’m also going to start training you, Tommy, as soon as I can. I never want to see you in that situation again ... I thought you died. I love you, boy. I never want to see anything like that again,” he said, struggling with his emotions.

Donnor clenched his jaw, and after swallowing a couple of times, he wiped an eye and stood. “I have to see to the men and keep up morale. Ari, keep Tommy with you, please. It will make me feel better with the two of you together. If you have to leave our hide here, take Saress with you. She’s deadly,” he said as he walked off, almost having to tear his eyes off them both.

“Come, Tomilanthus,” Ari said quietly while watching his da’ stride away. “I have much to do and will need your help,” Ari said as she rose and started walking towards the southern rim.

***

Donnor watched Arisaylia and their son walk the periphery of the camp doing whatever it was they were doing.

What is it that you do, Ilari? he wondered as he watched them.

He caught Saress’s slit-pupiled eyes glancing at him as she guarded them, and he nodded to her before returning to his rounds.

Who is Saress, Ilari? She had shocked him, remembering the pathfinder’s deadliness in battle.

Why are you so instantly accepting of her? She is no mage, and she studies us like an assassin. Why do you have so much faith in her guarding you and our son?

Thinking of how to protect them both, his thought drifted back to the battle. He’d almost died watching Tommy get overrun by the warrior, and the moment he’d been free, he’d raced to Tommy’s side. Ari had nearly beaten him there, and he’d heard her vow she wouldn’t lose Tomilanthus as she’d lost Di’ii while healing their son.

It’d been jarring that Yella wasn’t there, but Tommy had been lucky it was Arisaylia and not his mum at his side. None of Yella’s potions would have cured what he’d seen, and Arisaylia’s magic had done so apparently with ease.

Where are you Yella?

Donnor was now almost certain she was dead. He’d heard tales of how silent the ondilaan could be, but nothing had prepared him for the reality he’d witnessed this day. He’d been naively confident of Yella’s ability to evade them in the forest. But now, now he was in doubt.

Run swift and far, Yel’.

It’s so strange, he thought as he continued around the camp. Yella, I love you and miss you, but it’s as if you’re dead and gone. And it’s only been days ... He sighed, catching himself watching Arisaylia’s red hair glimmering in the firelight.

What are you doing, Donnor?

He was so drawn to her. He’d seen Tommy watching him, watching Ari and him together, and he tried to feel guilty. But he wasn’t, and it scared him. Arisaylia fascinated him, just like she’d always done, almost as if he’d never left the Vale. There was no denying he loved Yella, but anymore it was Arisaylia he thought of in the night.

He could almost feel her, intuitively knowing where she was or where she would be. He was comfortable whenever she was around, her presence soothing, restful, and easy. And when all three of them were together, it was as if everything would be all right.

You never wanted to hear about her Yella. Not her, or our son’s elven blood. But what would you say now, Yel’? What would you say? He’d be dead if not for her.

He sighed.

Thank you, Ilari.

Donnor looked off to the south in the direction of where Lakeside would have been. The sounds of the night accompanied his swirling thoughts.

And his thoughts kept coming back to the firelight glimmering in his ilari’s scarlet hair.

A Coming Storm

The morning was cool, and the troop awoke to a strong breeze blowing through the trees in the forest around them. They were rising much later than they had been over the past few days; the morning sun already topping the trees as they got up to the sounds of birdsong.

Keris was walking slowly amongst the troop, softly greeting the waking people, and gently shaking those who were not yet awake. It was a nice change, much different from the last few mornings, and Tommy felt better rested than he had been in days.

Ari had had him walk with her around the periphery of the camp the night before while she did whatever it was she did with her Tol. She explained that because they had shared in the Tol’An, he could help out by sharing his Tol with her to ease her burden.

This seemed easy enough as all he had to do was hold onto Ari somewhere and just let whatever happened, happen. The warmth of her Tol wrapped its way around his own and somehow drew on it after they had joined hands. And as they walked around the rim surrounding their camp, Ari spoke quietly to herself in elvish while Tommy felt his Tol leave him, and got more tired the longer it went on.

At his question, she explained that the words were meant to focus her mind on her intent, and that many mages used different terms as a focus to do the same thing. She laughed lightly when he asked if she was casting magic spells, and replied that that was indeed what she was doing. Though he sounded silly saying it like that.

Saress had followed them as soon as they rose, a quiet watching shadow behind them. He noticed that Saress seemed to pay close attention to Ari’s words, and especially her description about sharing their Tol. But she glared at him, moving further into shadow when she saw his questioning glance. Her eyes periodically reflected the firelight giving her an eerie gaze, and after the men’s talk about her deadly aim, he certainly didn’t want her upset with him. She seemed to relax when Ari explained there would be no Tol’An tonight, as helping her would suffice.

It took almost half an hour for Ari to complete their circuit of the camp. By then, the archers had returned with not one deer, but three. They cleaned them with the assistance of whoever had the skill, while the rest of the men made spits. And they were up much later into the night than planned accompanied by buoyed spirits from the smells of freshly roasting meat.

Tommy learned that the correts would eat larger game as well after the handlers asked for the organs, which the correts greedily gobbled down. With full bellies resting by the warm fires, the men slept contentedly. No one mentioned using the blankets of the fallen and the skins of the deer to form a tent to smoke the remaining meat.

Though strangely tired from whatever Ari had done, his mind was alert, and he stayed up late into the night talking with her. She’d asked him about his mum, and it was strange to talk about her. He liked Ari, but was angry for no reason he could put his finger on when his da’ joined them with a smile at the end of his watch.

Where are you, Mum?

While the men rose, Rast, the sprite archer who’d been assigned to Tommy’s group, came over and asked him for help tearing down the smoke tent, and wrapping the meat for travel. He joined him, and after a time they had the remaining meat wrapped in the skins and ready. As they brought their packages to pack on the correts, the weapons and armor from the day before were being unloaded.

A few swords were being passed around that looked more like large meat cleavers than anything else. Two of these Mikus handed to Karn and Turred, who took them with a word of thanks. There were a few hard leather jerkins they’d stripped off the ondilaan. Only Gart was big enough to wear one without it coming down past his knees, so he was the only one who got one.

Martok, one of Keris’s spears, said he had experience with working leather and could shorten them if he had about a day to work on it. His da’ nodded at this and thanked him, but said they probably wouldn’t have the chance until they reached Resthaven. So, they were rolled up and readied to be packed away.

After a call to see if anyone else had experience with a sword to a resounding chorus of silence, the arms and armor were loaded back up and they broke camp. Everyone moved to the path while a group went back to the campsite to hide their trail, then they continued on their way to Resthaven.

As they left the grove, Saress again deployed her archers a bowshot away from the walking ranks. They traveled with their spears upright, which Tommy took as a good sign. He noticed some of the underlying tension leave the troop as the rest of the men seemed to notice this as well. The morning sun was warm and pleasant on their faces which helped distract them even more. The fact that they could see there was nothing around them except for grass and trees after cresting a hill, helped also.

Clouds were gathering to the distant south, and it looked like a storm was brewing in the distance. The breeze was unchanged, though, so a storm wasn’t imminent. Tommy wasn’t the only person who watched the gathering clouds with concern, with talk about it spreading through the ranks. But they were quickly distracted from the clouds as Donnor ordered the troop into a jog. And they began the cycle of running and walking that had become their habit as they traveled.

Every few hours, they’d stop and do some kind of practice. Any time there was a chance of noise, one rank of spears was added to the archers to increase their numbers while the other one trained. There was no repeat of the practice bouts from the day before, with the men cheering each other on. They did do some sparring, but it was only one pair at a time while the others watched. And then, only when they were in a place where the hills surrounded them, deadening the noise.

They repeated their drills striking trees or embankments to build up their strength. Keris told them this was utterly important if they ever faced an armored force. After some confusion, he pulled one of the leather jerkins from the correts as a target to give an example of what he meant. He had some of the men gather a large amount of grass from the surrounding area and bind it into the shape of a bale of straw, then had the men stab it as it was. Their spears met no resistance. Then he put one of the jerkins over it and had them stab it again. Everyone felt the resistance the stiff leather jerkin made, and more than one started sharpening their spears when they got the chance.

Mikus took charge at some of the breaks and concentrated on forming the ranks. He would have the spears scatter themselves all over then call out, “READY!” as he stood in front of Keris. The purpose of this exercise was to form into ranks as fast as possible; the reason not lost on anyone. They did this over, and over again, during their midday break, which drove everyone slightly crazy. Mikus had no sympathy that they were trying to eat as he called out for them to form ranks with a huge smile on his face.

Mikus had Donnor take his place at times during their march and would explain how ranks of spears were supposed to fight while they walked. It was apparent that Mikus had a lot of experience with the subject as he clearly and concisely described how formations worked and how they should be used. He took the time to explain that they were getting the bare minimum of instruction into fighting as a unit, and that it took many months of constant training for a formation to be what he called ‘battle ready’.

But he let everyone know that he would concentrate on teaching them a basic formation that they could almost always use, and he had them go through forming it during the next break. His instruction concentrated on the first rank forming a ‘wall’ of shields as best they could, focusing on maintaining the wall of shields, rather than stabbing out with their spears. Then, when the wall was in place, the second rank would stab out between the men of the first. This worked very well as the first rank contained all of the smaller races; the second rank being able to strike out over shields, which were below the height of their strikes anyway.

Mikus had them form and reform this formation repeatedly. After Nalin, one of the halflings, said he didn’t think it would do much good, Mikus ran and leapt, striking the wall of shields with his shoulder. The shields on either side of Nalin’s helped keep his up, and Mikus bounced off, landing on his butt.

“Is tha’ good enough fer’ ya’?” Mikus asked, as he picked himself up. After seeing this, everyone felt much more confident about what he was teaching them.

During all of the training for the spears, Saress moved to spend time with every pair of archers, even coming back to Rast and teaching him one-on-one. Saress spent her time teaching hand signals and things about how to spot someone who was trying to sneak up on you.

Her classes had the rapt attention of every single one of the archers.

She taught them to look for grass that was blowing against the wind, odd odors, broken branches, and many other things that many of the ex-hunters already knew. But none of them turned down any of the knowledge she quietly passed on. She had experience hunting people, something the hunters had never done.

The wind steadily increased as the day progressed. Clouds they had seen far in the distance this morning were getting closer, and the breeze now carried a damp chill. The gathering clouds were the biggest thing on everyone's mind as the afternoon progressed, until an archer cresting a hill suddenly stopped dead. His partner gave him a strange look before he too froze, and sharply signaled to the troop behind them.

The archer held a hand up in a closed fist, and when his da’ saw it, he quickly called the troop to a halt. Saress jogged rapidly to the now kneeling archers, approaching the hilltop warily. They knelt there together for a while, then Saress waved for his da’ to join them.

The rest of the troop stood there with increasing tension while Mikus and Keris walked the line reassuring the men, and keeping them quiet. Eventually Donnor returned, spoke with Mikus and Keris, and then turned to address the troop.

“There’s sign of the ondilaan over that hill.” He pointed past the still kneeling archers. “It looks like a good number of them were moving parallel to the path, most likely keeping an eye on it and looking to attack anyone they found. We’re going to stop here for a moment to give Saress a chance to have her archers scout around, then we’ll continue on. From now on, spears down. Any questions? Mikus, Keris, get them settled. I’ll be back.” He returned to the kneeling archers on the hilltop.

Saress, apparently waiting on him, disappeared over the top of the hill as soon as he arrived.

It was frustrating and nerve-wracking, knowing that signs of the ondilaan had been seen and were somewhere in the area, but he couldn’t see them for himself. Tommy wasn’t the only one who was anxious as the men quieted, looking around with increased intensity. More than one looked worried, and they looked like they were remembering the ambush the day before. But they all remembered the destruction of their villages, which hardened their resolve.

After a long while, Saress returned and had a lengthy conversation with his da’. When they finished speaking, Saress moved to rearrange her archers so there were now three pairs leading the troop and one to each side, with Rast remaining behind.

Donnor returned and addressed everyone. “It’s unclear exactly how many ondilaan there are, but they’re somewhere near our strength in total numbers. We don’t know if this is just a raiding party, or a small tribe. It doesn’t matter. I need everyone alert. No talking if it can be avoided. Let’s move.”

To say the people around him were anxious was understating things. No one was panicking, but Tommy watched more than one of the troop tensely looking around with wide eyes. His da’ stayed with Mikus and Keris, spending much more time than he usually did walking the line and talking to the men. His presence seemed to help calm the troop, and after a while with nothing happening, the levels of anxiety calmed to a low undertone. He didn’t stop walking the line, though.

The anxiety continued lessening until they approached where the ondilaan had crossed the path, and then it returned full force. Tommy had never seen the ondilaan traveling, but he could easily remember the charging warrior from the day before. The vision had haunted him last night, and had given him bad dreams that faded as they traveled throughout the day. He hadn’t talked about them, but the sight of the trampled grass and random piles of excrement that crossed the path brought the images to his mind with startling clarity.

An easily ten-pace wide path of trampled grass crossed the trail at an angle, with the paw marks of the ondilaan littering the ground. As they walked by, the pungent odor of the ondilaan accompanied the pregnant silence of the troop, as every single person there remembered the attack. The feelings that moved through them walking past the signs of the ondilaan were eerie and strange.

They passed the crossing quickly and continued on with more than one person looking back. Even the correts seemed to pick up on the mood, and their trilling calls to one another were short and subdued.

As they traveled on, the hilltops seemed more sinister, hiding whatever was beyond them. The woods in the groves seemed somehow darker and more foreboding. Even small animals they startled caused more than one of the men to jump as the tension took them.

After traveling for hours mostly in silence, they approached another grove of trees. His da’ whistled similar to one of the birds they’d been hearing to get Mikus’s and Keris’s attention. He made some hand motions that they seemed to understand, and the troop came to a halt. After more hand motions, Saress gathered her archers and disappeared into the grove in front of them.

Many long minutes passed before Saress returned, speaking with Donnor before going back into the woods. Donnor made more hand signals, and the troop followed Mikus and Keris down the path and into the grove. This grove seemed older and larger for some reason, and they walked under the trees for almost a half an hour before being turned off the path by an archer to an open area beside a small pond. Donnor talked quietly to Mikus and Keris before they started settling the men.

His da’ approached Tommy’s group and pointed towards the pond, “Set up by the pond there. There’s fresh sign of the ondilaan in this grove, most likely within the past day. We’re less than a day from Resthaven, but the men aren’t ready for a forced march through the night. So, we stop here and see how it goes. Small fires only. I’m expecting an attack, and it’s more than likely going to be a restless night.”

With that bit of wonderful news, he returned to the men and began helping set up camp. Tommy looked nervously at Ari, who seemed alert but not overly concerned. Then they moved with the handlers to the edge of the pond and started a small fire.

Both of them helped unload the correts this time, and Tommy realized after they’d finished that he’d overcome some of his nervousness being around them. The two smaller red eyes still bothered him, but the correts didn’t seem as ‘big’ to him tonight. One of them snapped at his ankle as thought that, and he wondered if he’d cursed himself as he jumped to avoid it.

After the fires were set, the men rolled out their blankets and started eating. When they were done, Mikus, Keris, and Saress led some of them out into the woods in pairs to replace the archers so they could rest and eat as well. No one was whispering, but conversation was muted, and the sounds and calls of the evening were loud as a result. It would have been peaceful if not for the thoughts of ondilaan appearing at any moment.

Ari called Saress over after she finished her meal. “A watcher is needed. The Tol’An cannot wait,” she said simply as she kneeled and motioned for Tommy to join her.

“Nisa Saliantrea, a nu tutiel a nas tori a Tol’An,” Saress said, her tone in obvious disagreement.

Ari studied her for a moment, then deliberately turned to Tommy. “Let us begin, take a deep breath and let it out slowly ...”

“Nisa ...”

“A’nat!” Ari snapped, drawing everyone's attention.

Saress growled in response. A sound started deep in her throat and rose in pitch until she realized she was doing it, and choked it off.

Donnor walked over with a hard look in his eye that he hid from the men. Deliberately affecting a light voice, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“I have nothing here to anchor a working like I did last night. Since there is nothing for him to help with, Tomilanthus needs to train his Tol. It cannot wait. We were disagreeing and resolved our issue.” Ari never once took her eyes off of Tommy.

His da’ obviously didn’t believe a word of it, meeting her comments with raised eyebrows. He looked back and forth between Ari and Saress in silence as the tension built.

“Really.”

Ari just turned her head and calmly gazed into the conflicted face of Saress. Saress’s ears moved from slightly back to fully flat against her head as whatever she was thinking coursed through her mind. Eventually, she sighed and lowered her head in defeat.

“She is correct,” she replied, though there was no mistaking the growl behind her words. Saress looked past his da’ and called over a team of archers made up of two sprites. “We will watch … Ari,” she concluded, as the firelight turned her eyes angry and red.

“Thank you,” Ari said while turning back to Tommy. “Another deep breath now, Tomilanthus. Let it out slowly, and feel your heartbeat and breathing slow.”

Tommy didn’t quite understand what had passed between Ari and Saress, but it was obvious it wasn’t the way Ari described. Tommy glanced at his da’, who was watching Ari intently while Saress arranged the two sprites. They formed a triangle surrounding Tommy and Ari facing outward, all without meeting Donnor’s eyes.

“Ilari, we must talk …” Donnor said after a moment of silence.

“Tomorrow, Donnor. I will discuss it, but his training cannot wait,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “Now close your eyes, Tommy, and continue your breathing. Good,” she said as his breathing and heartbeat slowed.

Tommy could tell his da’ stood there for some time watching over them before moving off. Then as the feeling of his Tol filled him, Ari grasped both of his hands in hers and they fell into the Tol’An.

And thoughts left him.

Resthaven

The rain woke everyone up.

Tommy realized it was raining when he rolled over into a puddle, startling himself awake. By then, the rain had been falling at a continuous drizzle for over an hour, and everyone, and everything, was wet. The cool dampness chilled Tommy to the bone, and he shivered as he pushed himself out of the puddle, blearily looking around.

It was miserable, and he had no idea how he’d stayed asleep. Even the fires seemed depressed, having burnt down to bare embers that hissed and spat as the rain struck them. The night callers in the pond were happy though, and they kept up a cheerful cacophony of sound, totally at odds with the troop’s misery.

Accepting their predicament, the troop got up and started moving about in the predawn gloom. Fires were put out, equipment organized, and gear collected. Water-laden blankets were tied to sopping packs and hoisted onto damp shoulders, adding to their weight. Alarat and Camm got the correts loaded and standing, and looked on jealously as their charges snaked their heads around under their vestigial wings, keeping them dry and out of the rain.

The cloaks they had been given shed some of the water as they huddled inside of them, but they didn’t do it very well. So, everyone's clothes were damp on top of everything else as they tore down the camp. Saress was no longer the only person who had a hood up, and it was hard to tell who was who while everyone was wrapped in their cloaks.

At least my feet are dry, Tommy thought glumly as he looked down at the boots he normally used while fishing on the boat.

With a minimum of orders, his da’ got everyone into formation and back onto the path, while Saress returned to camp with the sentries to ensure signs of their being there were hidden. Donnor spoke to Mikus and Keris before he turned and walked back towards Tommy’s group. Tommy could see Mikus and Keris moving through the men, talking to each one, passing orders.

Meanwhile, more than one person discovered to their chagrin that standing there with a spear in your hand allowed the water to run down your arm and puddle inside your shirt at the elbow. There were many attempts to defeat this new insult by changing their position or grip on the spears without much success. This just added to the morning’s misery as they waited while signs of their camp were finished being hidden.

“We’re going to leave early and make Resthaven by midmorning; there’s no sense in staying here in the rain. Keep your shields on,” Donnor said as one of the gnomes started to remove theirs. “Have someone help you get one of your rations out of your pack and eat it as we go. Keep talking to a minimum if you can. It’s going to be a miserable day, but at least the rain will cover the noise and our scent from the ondilaan. Hopefully, we won't have to fight before Resthaven.” A trickle of water rolled off his hood and splashed onto his nose.

“At least everyone will finally be clean,” Ari said disdainfully. “The reek of your unwashed men offends me.” Her comment conveyed her utter distaste for them all.

Donnor stared at her incredulously before a twinkle entered her eye as she broke her facade with a laugh. He snorted loudly, and with a wry grin said, “Yes, milady.” He gave a courtly bow that hurled water everywhere as he flung out his cloak. Then he turned and walked back to Mikus and Keris, chuckling the entire way.

“He needed that,” Ari murmured to herself as she watched him go. “Today, Tommy, you and I are going to cheat. I hate being wet, so I refuse to be. And there’s no reason you should be wet as well. I’m going to be using my Tol, and if you can figure it out, you’ll get to be dry too. Interested?”

And after being offered that tiny hint of salvation, her instruction started for the day as the troop moved out. Donnor still appeared to be chuckling every now and then as he periodically glanced back towards them from beneath his hood.

It turned out that if he could move his Tol to his skin and make it ‘thick’, it would stop things from going past it. That sounded easy enough, but the actual doing of it was hard. In fits and starts, he moved his Tol here and there around his body without much success.

As he walked beside Ari, who was now completely dry, the most Tommy could seem to keep dry was his head, and he settled for that for a while. Ari noticed and told him he was being lazy, then said to keep going and try harder. After watching his soaked struggles, she eventually took pity on him and reached out with her hand.

She had Tommy hold on while she worked her Tol so Tommy could feel what it was that she did. As her Tol wrapped itself around his own, he could feel her Tol squeeze through her skin; slowly, like the water seeping through his cloak. Then she cycled it back down into her body before squeezing it back out through her skin once again. Her Tol took on a consistency like jelly or jam, and it was weird to think of Tol having texture.

“Did you feel what I did?” Ari asked. At his nod, she removed her hand and motioned for him to try.

A breeze picked up at that moment, causing the rain to strike him in the face, sending a cold rivulet of water running down his back. That frigid motivation spurred him on. He got the cycling of his Tol through his skin quickly enough considering he’d never done anything like that before. And after he convinced it to cycle through his skin on his hand, he eventually figured out how to spread that to his whole arm. But it took a while to get it to do more than just one body part at a time.

After another rain blown assault to his face, his Tol seemed to understand what he wanted it to do. While internally pleading, Come on! it snapped from just one arm to his chest, and then spread out to encompass his entire body. It took a lot of concentration, causing him to stumble from being distracted once or twice, but he eventually realized he’d succeeded in having it cycle the way it should.

Finally!

He was utterly pleased with himself for successfully cycling his Tol through his skin. It was doing it just like he wanted it to, and just like he’d felt Ari cycle hers. A grin formed on his face. It’s even cycling through the bottom of my feet, he realized with smug pride, straightening up and walking with more confidence. And his increasing self-confidence lasted right up until the moment a rivulet of cold water started running down his back once again.

This is just totally unfair.

He glanced at Ari in misery seeing the amused look on her face. “You're halfway there, Tomilanthus,” she said, chuckling at his indignant look.

One of the correts behind him took that moment to shake itself, splashing everyone in his group. Tommy looked back towards the front of the troop, now even wetter, utterly unhappy with the unfairness of it all, and tried to figure out how to make his Tol thick.

Meanwhile, the troop continued marching through the sodden countryside. After they’d passed out of the grove, they could see that the clouds were basically sitting on the trees. Visibility was poor, and no one could see beyond half a league or so. The terrain continued to transition from plains interspersed with trees into wooded rolling hills, and that change only further limited how far they could see.

He noticed Saress flitting like a hummingbird from one pair of archers to another. Probably making sure they’re actually watching around, Tommy grumped, utterly dejected while slogging along. Mikus and Keris were doing their best to keep people interested in their surroundings, but everyone was miserable and they weren’t having much luck. It especially didn’t help when the wind picked up and started blowing people’s cloaks open, exposing their clothes even more to the rain.

Saress moved back from the forward pair of archers to speak with his da’ as another rivulet of cold water ran down his back. And he noticed Ari actually seemed to be enjoying herself as they travelled along. She gazed around with interest, carefully making sure not to meet Tommy’s eyes even once. Leaning forward, she looked past him at the surrounding countryside, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk.

She’s even starting to hum!

Aargh!

Tommy settled into an inner monologue of complaint that would have gotten some strong words from her if she knew what he was thinking.

Donnor nodded at whatever he was being told before Saress returned to the front of the troop. A short while later they passed another path of matted-down grass that crossed the trail they were on. The smell was muted, but the scent of the ondilaan was clear enough that it prompted renewed interest in their surroundings. Who knew how old it was, and since Donnor had not stopped to explain, it remained a mystery.

They passed more signs of the ondilaan over the next couple of hours, adding to the tension, before the first welcome sign of civilization came into view. That first sign was a field appearing suddenly as they passed out of a boundary of trees. There were wagon ruts on the trail, and a place where there must have once been a gate, though it was lying broken on the ground now.

That’s not the most heartening sign.

There were no other signs of damage, however, so the thought quickly left Tommy’s mind as he continued struggling with his Tol. The path continued on, becoming muddier as they passed the field with its broken gate, and they eventually entered another line of trees. After slogging through the mud and rain a while longer, they crested another hill, and the trees parted to reveal Resthaven in the distance before them.

If it wasn’t for the rain, it would probably be pretty, Tommy thought as he finally, finally, had success. His Tol thickened and became oily, greasy even, and the water clinging to his skin started to run off. It wasn’t what Ari had done, but he let out a huge sigh of relief as the water drained away. Ari chuckled beside him when she noticed his long-awaited victory, and he decided he would refuse to acknowledge that, which made her chuckle even more.

Resthaven was big, much bigger than Lakeside had been. And as the troop walked down the hill, he looked over the heads of the men in front of him to the village below. There was a stream on their side of the village which wound in front of it, traveling from north to south, curving slightly around the southern side as it went. A small wooden bridge crossed the stream before the buildings began, which were arranged neatly in rows forming streets between them.

A few of the buildings had more than one level, with one particularly large structure in the center of the village that the rest seemed to be centered around. There was even a mill with its water wheel turning lazily in the current of the stream. He couldn’t see much through the rain beyond that, but it seemed a nice enough place.

As they got closer, Tommy started to realize there were armed men at the bridge. The surrounding fields were lined by waist-high hedges separating the fields from one another, but there were also trenches dug along some of them that looked like a recent addition. He started to notice damage to the fields, and one of the southern ones even looked burnt. Looking for more signs of damage, he found them, and not only amongst the fields. There were two burned buildings on the southern edge of the village, and despite not having rain running down his back anymore, he felt a chill within him.

Ari nodded as he looked to her in concern, saying quietly, “They have attacked here also,” then turned to continue her own inspection of the village before them.

After passing a ragged break in one of the hedges that smelled of the ondilaan, his da’ called the troop to a halt a long bowshot from the bridge. He waved Tommy forward to join him as he walked to the front of the line.

“... going to see if there’s any place indoors for us. Mikus, you’re in charge. Keep the troop together and keep them informed. No order I give will split us up, so keep that in mind. Keris, you’re with me. Let’s go talk to the bridge guard,” Donnor said as he turned, waving Tommy to hurry up while walking away with Keris at his side.

As Tommy caught up, he said quietly, “Tommy, you stay beside me. No one here knows my position or rank, so there’ll be some mistrust until I can prove it with the orders from Redtail I have in my pack. Hopefully, they recognize Keris.

“As my aide, your job is to pay attention, be quiet, and run errands. From now on, call me ‘commander’. If things look good, I’ll have you run back to Mikus and tell him to bring the troop in. Otherwise, we’ll play it by ear.

“Hello, the guard!” Donnor called out, as he approached men who resembled the conscripts Tommy had seen back in Redtail.

“Hello, the force!” he got in return. “Name yourself!” was called out tersely as he got close enough to speak without shouting.

“Commander Donnor of Lakeside with a troop of irregulars. We bring orders for Sergeant Moran from Redtail,” he said in a commanding tone as he continued his approach. “Is the sergeant available?”

“Commander!” the leftmost guard replied and saluted quickly. “I apologize sir, but we have orders to prevent any and all from passing the bridge. Let me send a runner, and I’ll get you out of the rain, sir.” Donnor just nodded. The guard turned and sent one of the five men guarding the bridge jogging back into town. The other four continued watching them warily, with more than one glance taking in the troop behind them.

Tommy couldn’t figure out why they looked so concerned about the troop while the rain continued to fall. Keris tried to strike up a conversation with one of the men, but he only replied with grunts so Keris gave up. Maybe they're just miserable too, Tommy thought as they waited, while the breeze blew their cloaks open again.

The runner eventually returned a few sodden minutes later with another man. He was armored in chainmail and had a sword which could be seen underneath his cloak as the wind blew it wide. The newcomer stopped before stepping onto the bridge and looked past them through his hood for a long moment before advancing.

“I’m Sergeant Terrance Oldsby, one of the leaders here. Who are you?”

“Commander Donnor of Lakeside, I bring orders from Redtail for Sergeant Moran.”

“There is no ‘Commander Donnor of Lakeside.’ I was in Redtail just four days ago; who are you really?” he demanded as he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Terry,” Keris said, stepping forward and lowering his hood, “Easy.” Keris motioned in a placating manner. “Things have changed. Can we get out of the rain so we can explain it to you?”

“Keris! What are you doing here? He’s really a commander?”

“Yep.”

Sergeant Oldsby let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. We need your help,” he said saluting his da’. Then Oldsby turned, shouting, “STAND DOWN!”

After hearing his order, armed conscripts started coming out from between the buildings of the village, putting away their weapons. The sergeant gave an order to one of the guards to get them back to their stations before turning back.

“We need to get your men inside the village. The ondilaan just attacked a few hours ago from the west, they’ve been probing us since we got here. Bring your people to the inn and we’ll get you sorted out and up to speed.”

“Why don’t we just walk with you while the troop comes in,” Donnor offered. “Tommy, run to Mikus and have him bring in the troop. Meet us at the inn, which I guess is the big building in the middle of the village?” The sergeant nodded after his questioning glance.

“Aye, D … Commander,” he verbally stumbled, remembering his da’s instructions.

“Off with you.” Donnor nodded, turning back to the sergeant.

Tommy jogged back to Mikus fighting down a yawn, and passed on his da’s orders. Saress was standing with Mikus, and had her archers fall into ranks behind the correts as they crossed the bridge.

Tommy fell in line beside Ari, who took one look at him and said, “Good job.” He threw her a questioning glance wondering what he’d done. “Your shield,” she explained. And it dawned on him he was still cycling his Tol without even really thinking about it. His clothes and everything else were soaked, but his skin was still dry.

It took only a few minutes to pass into the center of the village to a large two-story structure which was indeed the inn. The street was muddy as they stood there in the rain, waiting after Mikus’s command to rest, but at least the wind was blocked by the surrounding buildings. Saress took up position waiting beside Ari, and the two of them exchanged a few short words in elven.

One of the correts took this moment to let out a sharp trill, then shook itself, drenching everyone standing nearby. This drew quite a few glares and looks of complaint from the men, but the correts met the many looks with stares of their own. Their unsettling gaze caused more than one to nervously turn away, their beady red eyes seeming to glow in the gloom of the day.

Donnor eventually came out of the door of the inn with Keris. “Leaders, to me. You too, Tommy. The rest of you, stay as you are. We’ll be getting you out of the rain in a moment.” As they walked to the inn, the troop started talking amongst themselves with many looking forward to getting a fire going and a roof over their heads.

After walking inside, Tommy noticed the common room of the inn was busy, but more than a few of the sitting villagers looked on with hostility and suspicion as they walked by. There were some conscripts there too, but they weren’t sitting, and appeared to have taken up station along the walls. Tommy didn’t think they were getting any lunch here as they stopped to take in the low level of hostility in the room.

“We have problems. We’ll talk about it upstairs,” Donnor said quietly. He turned and quickly strode to a staircase beyond the bar that another conscript stood by. After climbing the stairs, they continued down a central hallway lined with doors along either side to a closed door at the end of the hall which opened into a large room.

Sergeant Oldsby was there sitting at a table with a map of the area on it, talking to an older man. The old man looked up with a disapproving frown, which didn’t seem to be a normal expression for his otherwise jovial face. A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace giving off its welcome warmth, while lying on a bed nearby was another man propped up on pillows.

This man was pale, very pale, and his black hair was slick with sweat despite the fire trying to warm the cool dampness of the room. The bandages that wrapped his chest were spotted with blood, and a sour odor of sweat seemed to come from him. Next to him, a young woman was grinding something with a mortar and pestle while empty potion bottles were within reach nearby.

“Ari, can you see what you can do for Sergeant Moran?” Donnor motioned to the man lying on the bed. “I need to speak with Sergeant Oldsby and get the troop settled before the next attack.

“Resthaven is surrounded; they’re surprised we even got in.”

A Healing

Ari moved over to the young woman and asked what was wrong with the sergeant while Mikus, Keris, and Saress shared a look between them.

“I’m not dead yet, elf,” the sergeant growled weakly, glaring as she approached.

Saress stiffened, but Ari raised one hand while still looking at the sergeant, serenely meeting his gaze.

“Then what is wrong with you, Sergeant?”

The soft, lilting tone of her reply conveyed more clearly than anything else she could have done that his harsh words were unfair and uncalled for. The young woman turned and dabbed his head with a towel, her concern clearly visible as he met Arisaylia’s eyes.

“Gaah, I’m sorry,” Moran said as he started coughing and closed his eyes.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the man as the effort of his wet hacking cough shook the bed. They watched the strength just seem to drain out of him as he waved a hand at everyone in the room, struggling to regain his breath.

“Poisoned,” Sergeant Oldsby spoke up from the table. “Before we arrived, the ondilaan attacked in force. Moran lost a lot of men due to surprise, but he beat back the attack. The remaining conscripts didn’t want to stay for any more of the fun, and when he objected, one of the filthy traitors stabbed him. He had a few loyal men who stood by him, but they were outnumbered by the bastards that sided with the traitor.”

Ari looked to Oldsby and asked, “How did he survive?”

Oldsby continued with what could only be described as a calm anger. “There were too many to kill. Some of those with him were too injured to leave so they locked Moran and those still loyal to him in one of the houses before they had their way with the villagers. It went on this way for a day and a half before we arrived. When we got here, their leader said Moran had been killed and brought me up here to ‘brief’ me. Then he tried to kill me while the rest of the scum ambushed my men outside.

“It didn’t work out so well for them. We killed every single one of the bastards and freed Moran and his loyalists, but I lost a lot of men doing it. Between Moran's survivors and mine, we have twenty-four men now. You’ve basically doubled our force with your arrival,” he said absently.

“You’ve lost that many?” Keris said, obviously shocked.

“Yes. One of the bastard traitors was a sprite and he poisoned their blades. The closest we have to a healer is Miss Ilden there who’s the village midwife. She’s done her best, but she isn’t a healer and the poison killed a few more before she figured out a way to slow it down. If we can’t stop it, we're going to lose the rest of the men still fighting the poison.”

“Well, we can definitely help with that. Ari’s a healer. How many more are wounded?” Donnor asked.

Ari and the midwife started removing Moran’s bandages, and her face was creased with concern as the layers came off. Moran grunted more than once during the process, moving around on his sweat-soaked sheets, obviously in pain.

“Three badly,” Oldsby continued. “A few other ones that have mainly cuts we’ve already sewed up, but the poison is in them and it’s still spreading. One of the other lads has a broken arm we’ve tied up in a sling, but besides that, we’re okay. For now.”

“How are you stationed?” Donnor asked.

“Right now, we’re laying low. There were only a dozen or so ondilaan in the attack this morning and they’re obviously probing us trying to see how many are left. We’ve made sure to stick to the buildings and not let our total numbers be seen; the rain has helped with that. But if they attack again in numbers like Moran described, we can’t hold. I’ve spread the men about here and there, but the villagers don’t want us here with what happened, and they’re not shy about telling us so.” The old man snorted as Sergeant Oldsby continued, “I’m hoping some of our injured recover before they attack in force.”

After removing the last bandage, the pungent odor of infection filled the room. Sergeant Moran had unmistakably been stabbed, and his wound was frightening. There was a precise slit below his right ribs surrounded by furiously inflamed and swollen tissue. Red lines radiated from the wound and stretched almost to his heart, then disappeared around his side and below his pant line. While Tommy watched, a foul, thick green glop of some putrid substance oozed its way out of the wound, leaving a streak of filth on the purple and green bruise around it.

Ari’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of his wound. “By the gods, Ilari, I must heal him now or he will die! Tommy, come here. Il’don’ton’wii J’al’osil!” she commanded, closing her eyes and pressing her hands to his chest. Then her hands suddenly flared, their brilliant golden light filling the room.

Many things happened at once.

First, both the older man and the midwife gasped. The former surging to his feet, accompanied by the clatter of his falling chair as he struggled for balance, his feet caught in its legs. The midwife squealed in terror and scurried past Tommy, running towards the door in utter panic.

Sergeant Moran took a massive gasp of air, making a long, deep sound as his back arched up off the bed. And Sergeant Oldsby swore, struggling to his feet, grasping at his sword.

Mikus caught the midwife and tore the door handle from her hand as he slammed it shut, blocking the door with an oath. “Blasted Elf!”

Keris lunged across the table and grabbed Oldsby’s arm to keep him from drawing his sword, yelling, “Woah, Terry!”

And while all this was going on, his da’ shouted, “Hold!”

Tommy moved past Saress who now had her back turned to Ari, guarding her with two gleaming daggers. They had appeared out of nowhere, radiating something predatory to his senses as he passed her by.

“I’ll no be havin’ a witch in my inn!” the old man roared as the light of Ari’s Tol lit his face. “First ye come and take our food! Then ye come and rape our women! Ye have the killin’ of us, and now ye want to curse us! I’ve had enough! Get ye gone! There’s no place for you here!”

Ari spoke in a constant litany of elvish words; the golden glow of her hands brightening even further, forcing Tommy to squint against the glare. Her Tol was coming off of her in waves, and its pressure beat against his chest as he stood beside her.

“Bring me a sprite,” she ordered in a hollow voice before reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Keep your hand on me and open yourself.” Her Tol snapped around his in an iron fist, and with a glance of apology she simply said, “I need you.” Then he felt sudden exhaustion spreading through him as her Tol sucked his strength away.

“Easy! Easy! She’s not a witch! She’s a mage from the Vale. A healer. Easy!” Donnor held his hands out, trying to get everyone to calm down. “Easy! She’s a healer. She’s trying to help. She can be a little excitable at times, but she’s trying to help. Easy. Let’s all sit back down for a minute. Easy!”

“Witch! Mage! Demon! It doesn’t matter! They were the cause of the ancient war and I’ll not be having one of them in my inn!” the old man bellowed, spittle flying from his lips in fury. Tommy could feel Saress shifting beside him, coiling like a spring. “They’ll curse us all! Get ye gone from here!”

“Ahh, shaddup’ you,” Mikus growled as he held the struggling girl. His voice echoed around the room as he glared about. “If she be savin’ ‘im are ye gonna’ be killin’ ‘im after? NO! So siddown, and shaddup, damn ye! Ye too, lass,” he said, plopping the midwife down in a chair. “We’ll all be playin’ nice while tha’ blasted elf does whatever blasted elf’s do,” he grumped, turning his glare on Ari who appeared unaware of any of the goings-on in the room.

“Thank you, Mikus,” Donnor said as the gruff words broke through their fear and they began to listen. “I’m sorry, Sir, Sergeant, Miss, but she doesn’t usually do this if things aren’t serious. Take it easy. Let’s all sit back down, and talk about it. Can we? Please?”

There were quite a few guarded looks from around the table before Sergeant Oldsby took his hand off his sword. Reaching back with one hand, he drew his chair back to him.

The midwife stood as soon as Mikus let go of her and scurried to stand behind the old man. He put an arm around her, shifting them both behind the sergeant, obviously guarding her from everyone in the room.

Sergeant Oldsby looked at Keris. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you,” he said in warning as he turned and righted the old man’s chair.

The door opened behind them and a conscript warily poked his head in, “Sergeant?”

“We’re fine here. Sloppy gruel,” Oldsby replied as sounds of running feet could distantly be heard pounding up the stairs. Tommy glanced from where he was and saw the hallway outside filling with conscripts, their weapons drawn.

“Sloppy gruel, Sergeant,” he said loudly enough to be heard by everyone behind him. A chorus of loud sighs sounding from the hallway accompanied his words. “Always did like that sloppy gruel.” And with a nod to the room, he closed the door after taking a long look at the bared blades in Saress’s hands, and Arisaylia’s glowing hands. His voice could be heard through the door, telling everyone that the fun was over and that it was just some sloppy gruel.

“Nice password. Didn’t we use that one last year?” Keris asked.

“Yes,” Sergeant Oldsby replied absently. “You said we were going to talk?” he questioned, looking pointedly at Donnor.

“And we are. Can I ask you if there’s somewhere for my men to get out of the rain? We might be here for a while, I’m thinking.”

“There’s a barn at the western edge of town that’s still intact.”

“Mikus, get the troop to the barn. Archers to the windows if there’s a loft. Make a fire, but don’t burn the place down. Get them fed and dried out. Ask one of the sprites to stay, say Ari needs them.”

“Aye, lad,” he said, and left after evaluating everyone’s mood with a look around the room.

“Saress?” Donnor asked, waving at a chair. Saress did not reply, continuing to stand guard in front of Ari. Donnor sighed after a moment of watching her. “I guess not.” He took his seat, deliberately turning his back to her and waved everyone else to their seats, waiting until they sat before continuing.

Tommy had to lean one hand on the bed for support as his exhaustion increased with whatever Ari was doing to him.

“I was made a commander, and ordered by Lord Maorilan to carry orders for Sergeant Moran’s force to return to Redtail for more training. After that, I was to take up his patrol before moving south to find and fight the ondilaan, while checking on any settlements we came to. That obviously isn’t going to happen now. My force is volunteers, irregulars, and we’re supplied to operate independently.

“Ari is part of my command,” he continued, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at her. “She’s a mage and a healer, and right now she’s trying to heal whatever is wrong with Moran beyond being stabbed. By the smell, whatever it is isn’t good.”

His da’ looked back towards the midwife after taking a long glance at Ari. Everyone else was looking over Donnor’s shoulder at Ari while the golden light from her hands began to pulse and flare in a steady rhythm. Tommy could tell the pulse matched Moran’s heartbeat as Ari did something to it, and with every pulse, he tired more.

“It’s a poison, my Lord,” the midwife said meekly. “It won’t respond to potion or poultice. Though I did find something that seems to slow whatever it is down, my Lord,” she said quietly while ducking her head.

“Donnor.”

“My Lord?” she asked, peeking through her eyelashes without raising her head.

“My name is Donnor. Don’t bow to me, I’m not a lord. I’m from Lakeside, as is Mikus, the dwarf who just left. That’s my son there, he’s also from Lakeside. Even Ari lived there for a time. It's a village, smaller than yours, south on the ‘sea. Just call me Donnor.”

She didn’t look very convinced, and neither did the old man, but she nodded.

“Magic isn’t evil. I’m not asking you to like it and I’m not asking you to change your ways, but what she’s doing isn’t evil. And nothing she’s doing is going to affect either of you. I know the horror and slaughter of the ancient war; that the tales say it was the fault of mages. But she’s not one of them. Let her help him. After she finishes helping him, I may let you stab her for causing this, this, whatever this is. But let her finish first. Okay?” he asked as Saress shifted her weight, giving him a look.

“Yes, my … Commander,” she replied.

“Good enough,” Donnor said tiredly. “We were attacked two days ago and lost some men too,” he said to Oldsby. “Not as many as you, though. I was hoping to reinforce myself with anyone here who wanted to come along, but that probably isn’t going to happen now either.”

The old man snorted.

“Sir, I hate speaking to people when I don’t know their names,” Donnor said while reaching his hand across the table to the old man. “Will you tell me yours?”

The old man stared at his open hand for a moment, then slowly reached out and clasped it. “Jarrod Tarr, innkeeper, and mayor of Resthaven. If the witch can help the sergeant, I’ll try and think better of her. But I don’t be liking it! Not at all.” He frowned.

“Taylin there, my niece, has been beside herself. Those bastard conscripts killed her mother and father, and were about to be havin’ their way with her but Moran there saved her; taking a knife for his troubles. If there’s something you can do for him, I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tarr. That’s all I can ask,” Donnor said with a final shake of their hands before letting go, and looking towards a knock at the door.

Donnor looked back at Sergeant Oldsby expectantly. Eventually Oldsby called, “Enter,” and the door opened to admit Dap, one of Saress’s archers. Dap looked around, then moved towards Ari but was stopped by Saress who quietly and threateningly said, “Hold.” Dap froze instantly.

Ari must have heard, saying, “Let him pass, Saress.”

She moved slightly to the side, letting Dap squeeze by. Saress seemed utterly unmoved by the odd looks she was getting, not moving from her place and never once lowering her blades. If Tommy wasn’t so tired, he would have been scared to death by the threatening menace radiating from her.

“Sprite poison,” Ari said. “Which one?”

Dap looked at her, around the room, and then at Moran who was bathed in pulsating light. “I need to see, Arisaylia Saliantrea,” he said in the chittering accent of the sprites.

The brightness surrounding her hands lessened, allowing Sergeant Moran’s chest to once again clearly be seen. It was apparent that the wound was much better than it had been just moments before. There was still redness, some bruising, it remained open and draining, but all of those things had diminished. The odor was still there, however, as were the red streaks surrounding the wound.

Dap stuck his finger into the foul drainage and brought some to his nose, taking a long scenting of it with his mouth partially open just like an animal would. Then he rolled the drainage between his fingers, testing its consistency before wiping his finger on the bandages still lying on the bed.

“Feverleaf, Arisaylia Saliantrea. It can be cured. Two, three days if he lives. Fever will kill. Water, sleep, no food. The wound needs to remain open to drain. Charcoal, and dewbottom poultice,” and after she nodded, he turned and abruptly left the room.

“Thank you,” Ari called absently to the retreating figure. “Donnor, I need a room,” she said turning to him as the light of her hands dimmed, then slowly extinguished. “Tommy will pass out soon, and I need to be here and have him near. Is there any dewbottom in the village?”

“Yes, M’lady, I use it myself,” Taylin spoke up quietly.

“Good. Fetch some and return; quickly now. And bring some cooled charcoal, water, and a clean cloth as well. And you, Sergeant Moran, you are going to take a nap,” she said as she touched one delicate finger to his forehead and he began to snore.

Tommy felt Ari suddenly release him and he all but collapsed. Leaning forward on the bed with both hands, he was barely able to support his own weight. He felt like he’d just finished ten runs like the one back at Redtail and was utterly spent, gasping for breath since his release. Ari slowly lowered herself into a chair by the sergeant’s bedside obviously tired as well, wiping sweat from her brow.

Taylin watched them both and their obvious exhaustion, then gazed for a long moment at Moran’s remarkably improved wound. She gave the room a quick curtsy before leaving; her eyes, still watching Moran, the last to leave.

After some mumbling and a quiet exclamation of “By the gods,” Mr. Tarr said, “The room next door isn’t being used. The one across the hall is Sergeant Oldsby’s there. I can get it ready in a bit if ye not be needin’ me.”

Then after a long look at the bed, taking in the obviously improved Moran, he turned to Donnor. “I think we can be takin’ this downstairs if we need to keep talking. I don’t like it, but he looks better right before my eyes, and it be your witch that did it. I said I’d try, and I’ll be keepin’ my word.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tarr,” Donnor said.

“Thank you also, Mr. Tarr,” Ari said tiredly from the other side of the room. “I need some hours to rest after we get the poultice on Sergeant Moran. After that, I can heal whoever’s in need of it. Sergeant Oldsby, I think you’ll probably want your men healed first, but then if any of the villagers have need, I will be helping them as well.”

“If you can do for us what I just saw you do for him, I’ll do better than try, lady witch,” Mr. Tarr said.

Ari just waved at him as she put her head in her other hand. “Saress, il’don.”

Saress relaxed enough to put her blades away, but stayed by her side.

Mr. Tarr said some other things to those at the table, but Tommy was too tired to care. His head sunk down between his shoulders, and he concentrated on just remaining standing. His da’ came over and put his hand on both him and Ari, saying something quietly to Ari that Tommy was too tired to hear.

An unknown amount of time passed before Taylin returned, and Ari wearily rose to guide her in applying the poultice. After that, she took Tommy’s arm and guided them both into the next room where two cots were ready.

Tommy laid down on the closest one, and promptly fell asleep.

Revelations

Tommy didn’t wake until the next day.

As he blinked his eyes tiredly open, his first thought was he was back in Lakeside. A huge yawn cracked his mouth as he stared upwards into the rafters, noticing the thatching of the roof above him by the soft light of a candle somewhere nearby. He could hear the rain hitting the roof, a peaceful sound that lulled him to return to sleep.

He was about to close his eyes once again when a hand softly touched his chest. Saress leaned into view, looking into his face with concern before a mask fell across her features, her face returning to its usual blank countenance.

“How do you feel, young mage?” she asked in her quiet, sibilant voice.

Tommy thought about this for a while and then startled as she shook him gently, realizing he’d almost fallen back to sleep.

“Wake,” she said. “It is the next day, the sun will not rise for many hours. Saliantrea said to make sure you arose when you woke, so wake.”

Tommy tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his spit thick on his tongue. After a few tries, he croaked out, “Where am I?”

“You are in the inn in Resthaven. We arrived yesterday. Saliantrea drew greatly from you and performed a great healing. Wake.” She put her arm gently around him, helping him to sit.

Tommy felt weak; and sore. “Oh gods, I ache all over,” he complained as he leaned his head into both hands, elbows on his knees. His head started to pound in a rapidly increasing headache as he unsteadily started weaving back and forth.

Saress reached out a steadying hand and let out a low ululating whistle that resonated around the room, echoing strangely. The noise didn’t help his head, and he softly moaned in complaint.

A few moments later, a door opened somewhere and Arisaylia entered with Donnor in hand. Ari knelt in front of Tommy, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry. You are experiencing something that young mages are taught to avoid: drawing close to the limit of their Tol. You will ache and be sore for a day or two, may have some nausea, problems with lights, but it will pass. How do you feel?”

“I’m sore, I have a pounding headache, and I’m hungry,” he complained, yawning. “Why can’t I go back to bed?”

“You have to eat and drink, then move. You’ve been asleep for almost a day.” That garnered a grunt from him. “And, we need to do something you won’t want to do …” she said.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking up at her with bleary eyes, rubbing his temples.

“We have to exercise your Tol,” she concluded, getting a huge groan from him as he looked back down at the floor, holding his head. “It may be painful, and I will do all I can to be gentle, but it must be exercised through the right paths. I drew tremendously from you, and that draw injured your pathways for lack of a better way to explain it. They are sore and complaining, which is why you ache. Your headache is from nearing your limits. We must make sure your Tol does not form pathways on its own in your injured state.”

“Are you sure he needs to do that right now?” Donnor asked with concern, rubbing Tommy’s shoulder.

“No. He can wait a few hours, but it must be done today. Before noon preferably, Ilari,” she answered. “I need to continue guiding his Tol to choose the right course.”

“Will it harm him?” Donnor asked.

“No, but it will hurt. Moran was almost dead, probably only awake through a sheer act of will. I drew tremendously from Tomilanthus to save him. The healing took its toll on both of us, and if Tommy wasn’t so strong, Moran would have died. I am tired too and could use some more rest, but even though he is exhausted, Tommy’s Tol will recover on its own quickly enough. As it recovers it will again search for a way to come out, and his pathways need to be ready for it.”

“So, it can wait a few hours?”

“Yes, Donnor.”

“Good. Then since it can wait a little bit and everyone is here, perhaps we can have that conversation I’ve been wanting to have,” Donnor said with a hint of annoyance. “And some explanations.”

Saress rose angrily at his words, but Arisaylia reached out her hand and stopped her. “Sit, Saress. Donnor is right. There has been no chance before now, and explanations are due,” she said tiredly.

“Nisa Saliantrea …” Saress began.

“Probably the first thing I should tell you is that Donnor speaks elvish fluently. Speaking our tongue is no way to avoid him knowing something you do not want him to know. Besides the fact that it’s rude,” she finished, tiredly meeting Saress’s eyes.

Saress’s face went through a whirlwind of emotions and would have been comical if it weren’t for how tired he was. Tommy watched her mouth open and close as her face flushed, then went pale as her eyes dilated. Ari nodded as Saress asked something with her eyes causing her to flush once more. Saress squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head in negation, and then opened them.

Standing deliberately while meeting Donnor’s gaze, she gave him a slow, formal bow. “Strike leader,” she said, almost a mix between an apology and an acknowledgement of respect.

“Oh gods, none of that,” Donnor said, pulling a chair over and sitting with his back to the wall. “You’re not the first person to talk around me like I wasn’t there, and you probably won’t be the last. Sit down.” He waved as she continued standing stiffly in front of him.

Surprisingly, she did.

“Hand me the water, Saress.” Ari said, pouring Tommy a cup when she handed it to her. “Drink,” she said, and waited for Tommy to do so before continuing. “Saress is a pathfinder, Donnor. I said she’s a scout in the army, and that’s true. But pathfinders are more than scouts; much more. Do you remember Erella and Salia?”

“The two girls who went with us into the mountains past the Awyrllyn? For the picnic on the ridge?” Donnor remembered after a pause. He wasn’t quite sure why Ari brought up the two flighty maids who never seemed to quit talking, chatting endlessly about this and that. They had seemed to always follow along whenever they left the city though, he recalled.

Saress snorted and rolled her eyes while Ari continued, “Yes, Ilari, but they were not girls; they were pathfinders as well. Salia was a strike leader, basically a captain of the guard. Pathfinders are assigned to all mages when they leave the protection of the city.”

“And you got assigned to them because you were in the mage college?”

“Yes. Mages of the Vale are trained to work with pathfinders, the J’al’osil, and they are trained to work with us. They guard us while we work, look after us while we sleep, and protect us from dangers we have no defense from ... amongst other things. The pathfinders rarely leave the Vale and do not call attention to themselves, which is why you never knew of them.”

“So, you’re more than a scout,” Donnor stated, looking at Saress.

She looked back at him and obviously wasn’t going to say a word until she was prompted by Arisaylia.

“Please, Saress,” Ari said, placing a hand on Saress’s knee.

Saress’s face went through another round of expressions, obviously not wanting to reveal her role, before sighing in defeat. “Yes, more than a scout. I have been one of the J’al’osil for probably as long as you have been alive. I was never assigned to Lady Saliantrea before, but the duties are the same. Guard and protect, watch for danger, hone your skills.”

“Thank you,” Arisaylia said after a moment of silence.

“That’s why you do what she says?” Donnor asked.

“Yes. Within reason.”

“Why?”

Saress paused for a long time looking between Arisaylia and Donnor before Ari nodded, prompting her to continue. “The mages protect the Vale,” she said simply. “Every mage adds to the protections. Without them, we would be vulnerable. We protect and watch while they add to the workings.”

“And Tommy?” Donnor asked, watching Tommy take another drink.

“He is mage. She named him Tomilanthus, an elven naming marking him elf-friend, and is teaching him. He could be a great addition to the Vale.”

“I doubt our son will be going to the Vale any time soon,” Donnor said wryly, before snorting. “Hell, they’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

Saress’s eyes widened. She looked quickly back and forth between them, both of them picking up on her surprise.

“Yes, Saress, Tomilanthus is our son. He gets his magic from me,” Ari stated.

Saress’s eyes widened even further in shocked understanding. “Then, your sharing of Tol ...” Saress’s words drifted off.

“Yes. Not between lovers or mates, nor between master and slave, but between mother and son. It is the easiest and quickest way to teach, for all of its problems,” Arisaylia said wearily, brushing Tommy’s hair back from his brow.

“Master and slave?” Donnor asked.

“Yes. The Tol’An is a sharing of Tol, or magic, between two people. It brings your Tol in tune with one another, makes it easy to convey ideas, and shares your strength. The sharing creates a link between the participants that can be maintained if one desires.

“In ancient times, a form of the Tol’An was used by master mages who sometimes took on apprentices on the premise of teaching. But in actuality, they were used as a magical slave. The constant draw on the slave’s Tol caused them to wither, become skeletal, and eventually die.

“The Tol’An is rarely used anymore because of the taboo that surrounds it, but Tomilanthus is powerful, and his Tol is aggressively searching for a way to express itself. He needs his pathways set, and the Tol’An is the quickest way to do it.”

“Is that why I can sense whenever you use your Tol from across the room? The Tol’An?” Tommy asked in a tired monotone.

“From across the room?” Saress quickly repeated.

Arisaylia glanced at her then said, “No, Tomilanthus, you are incredibly sensitive. Unusually so. Something you probably get from your father. The pure fact that you can see another’s Tol without even trying is another sign of this,” which drew a gasp from Saress.

“He can see Tol?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Ari confirmed, while Tommy nodded and cringed with the motion.

“That is incredible,” Saress blurted out in shock. “He would be a huge asset to the Vale, Lady Saliantrea! Even if he is Nu’Surledyn. Why is he not training in the Vale?”

Donnor snorted, mumbling something about the Vale, drawing Arisaylia’s gaze to him. “They hunted him, Saress,” she said.

After a pause, Saress asked “Why?” narrowing her eyes.

Arisaylia reached out to touch Donnor as they gazed at one another, his cynicism slowly disappearing as they formed an almost physical connection with their eyes. Eventually, even Tommy looked up as the silence lingered, taking another sip of water.

“Ilari,” Arisaylia said simply, as if that was all that needed to be said.

Donnor let out a long breath, and seemed to soften, ignoring those around him. “Ilari,” he said, his voice pregnant with meaning.

Saress shifted uncomfortably, slightly flattening her ears. She watched them for many moments in consideration before standing. “I will take Tomilanthus to eat.”

“Will you guard him, Saress?” Ari asked quietly, still gazing into Donnor’s eyes.

“Yes, Lady Saliantrea. He is mage.”

“Just Ari, Saress. I am no lady here.”

This statement made Saress give her an even longer look, which Ari did not see or pay any attention to. Donnor reached out towards Ari, gently cupping her cheek with his palm, and Arisaylia pressed herself into his touch while they continued to gaze into each other's eyes.

“Come, we must get you some food,” Saress said uncomfortably, as she helped Tommy to his feet. Donnor and Ari were still gazing deeply into one another's eyes as he left, while Saress, who was now slightly flushed, shut the door behind them.

Tommy couldn’t help himself and staggered, leaning his weight heavily into her as they made their way down the stairs. She smells sweet, he thought distractedly as he fought not to fall.

Saress sat him in the middle of the empty common room and inspected it, her ears moving independently of one another as she glanced around. The fireplace was still warm, but there was minimal light as it was all but embers. After ensuring that there were no dangers, she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of what looked like stew.

“The sun isn’t up yet. This is left over from last night, but is still warm. The meat is deer, and there are some common vegetables. Eat. Broth first.”

Tommy nodded and started his meal as Saress disappeared again, returning with two cups. She sat one down in front of him and it turned out to be filled with water.

“Drink,” she prompted.

“Who are you, Saress?” Tommy asked tiredly after a few moments of silence.

“It was already said. Did you not listen?”

“I guess I should say, ‘what are you’, Saress?” She narrowed her eyes. “Please, don't be angry,” he said as quickly as he could. “I hurt too much.

“I grew up in Lakeside and never saw much more than dwarves before Ari arrived with Di’ii. A sprite came through once, and I've seen other races back at Redtail, but nothing like you. You look like an elf; but the hairs, your ears, and your eyes say something different. I’m tired. I’m just trying to understand.”

Saress studied him for a while, considering, then seemed to come to a decision. “I am Nu’Surledyn, like you. Part askilat, as you are part human.”

“What’s an askilat?”

“The askilat are an intelligent race far from here through the Gates that the humans ignorantly call cats,” she said disdainfully. “They are a proud race, and live in clans in their homeland. My mother met my father while traveling there, but returned to the Vale when he would not leave his clan. After raising me, she returned to Askiland to find him.”

“But why do you hide?” he asked, taking a bite of vegetable.

Saress paused, watching him. “Do you remember yesterday? The innkeepers’ fury and talk of the Ancient War?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know why.”

“Huh?”

“Because of magic.”

“We never had any magic in the village, and I don’t remember anyone ever talking about an ancient war. There were rumors about war with the ondilaan, but there were always rumors about the ondilaan. And even then, they never raided us because of the forest; they always went past us to the west. Was there a war a long time ago with magic and the ondilaan?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“Weren’t the stories told in your village? At your inn? By travelers?”

“Barely anyone ever came to Lakeside. I think a squad of the guard came through a couple years ago, but we were out fishing so I never saw them. Beyond everyone knowing magic is bad, nothing was said. A sprite came through once ...”

“That must explain it,” Saress said to herself. “You are lucky, Tommy. Your village was sheltered from much.”

He took another bite, chewing slowly. “So … what was it?”

Saress studied him before continuing. “Many ages ago there was a war; no one knows why. The races warred against each other and killed many. But the mages ... the mages, they slaughtered. The records of my order tell of entire cities being massacred, lands obliterated, and races butchered. All at the hands, or by the orders of, the mages.

“They were hunted down and all but exterminated, and mages have been rare, and feared, ever since. What you saw of the innkeepers’ reaction is common outside of the cities, and can sometimes be much worse. That fear has spread to anyone who is different. Especially those who are half-blood. And outside your village, being different can sometimes be fatal.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you. I saw what you could do in the clearing the other night.”

“Even I must sleep, Tomilanthus.”

Tommy considered this in silence while continuing to eat.

Saress watched him with concern. It was incredible the power she’d witnessed during the healing, and Nisa Saliantrea had said at least half the power was his. No untrained mage should have been exposed so harshly to a drain like that, and the risk of damage was great. She watched him eat very slowly, almost comically so, like he was an old, old man and wondered what would befall him.

Tommy eventually took another drink. “What’s it like?”

“What?”

“Being part Askilat?”

Saress watched him, and he didn’t even look up after he asked. It was obvious that his thoughts were sluggish and cloudy as he ponderously ate and drank. His question was incredibly rude, as rude as the questions before it were incredibly naïve. It was as if there were huge holes in his knowledge, and she wasn’t sure if it was her place to answer. Her initial thought was to refuse to answer, but she eventually decided to speak.

“I can hear very well, and see in the darkness. My reactions are quick without training, and I can smell better than most.”

Tommy grunted and kept eating. “What’s a new-sir-lay-din?”

“Nu’Surledyn. We are both Nu’Surledyn. Both of elven and another races descent.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, not looking up from his meal. After a while, he asked, “Do you have a tail?”

After many long moments of silence, it dawned on him that she hadn’t answered. He looked up, seeing her staring expressionlessly at him. “Sorry,” he said, finally understanding after a moment's pause that his question might have been a little too personal.

There was an awkward passing of minutes before Saress said, “You probably have similar traits.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are half-elven.”

“So?”

“You probably have elven traits.” After another pause where he looked at her blankly, she continued. “Better vision and hearing, some ability to see in the darkness. You will also probably age slowly. You may look entirely human, but these are elven traits that differ the elves from humans. Aren’t these things you’ve been told?”

“No. I found out Ari gave birth to me the day before we left the Hold.” He yawned. “It just hit me yesterday that Di’ii was my sister.”

There was another awkward pause as Tommy continued to eat, eventually scraping the bottom of the bowl. He was running out of energy, but realized his headache was better after eating. He pushed his bowl away, taking a final drink from his cup.

Saress continued watching him in silence. When he finished, she gathered up the cups and bowl, and took them back into the kitchen. She returned to find him nodding, half dozing at the table and paused for a moment to watch him.

As she gathered him up into standing, she said quietly, “Come, Tomilanthus, let us return you to your room. You must rest, young mage,” she finished as she gently guided him back up the stairs.

The Healing of a Villager

“Wake, Tomilanthus. Wake!” broke through into his sleeping mind as he was gently shaken.

Saress was leaning over him as he blearily blinked up at her. Welp, I’m back in the room, he noticed, taking in the morning light from the window.

“It is midmorning. Lady Saliantrea said you must wake, so wake!” Saress looked on, amused, as he struggled to sit.

As he waited for his head to start pounding after he sat up, he was pleasantly surprised that there was only a slight, dull ache remaining. Just like the rest of me, Tommy thought wryly as he took stock of himself. He let out a huge face-splitting yawn, then stretched, his back and shoulders cracking in protest.

“Come. You are wanted downstairs,” Saress said, handing him his shirt.

He realized he was bare chested and fought down his embarrassment while she watched him struggling into the shirt. He rose from the bed, slightly unsteady on his feet, and she reached out a hand to steady him, looking concerned.

“Gimme a moment,” Tommy slurred as he closed his eyes while the unsteadiness passed. After taking a couple deep breaths he said “Okay,” opening his eyes after the feeling did not return.

She watched him a moment longer, meeting his eyes with her own, nodded once, then turned and opened the door. Tommy noticed the other bed had been slept in as he left the room.

Saress walked slowly at his side as he made his way to the stair. Sounds of people talking came from below and increased in volume as he leaned his weight onto the banister. He took his time, descending slowly, while Saress seemed poised to reach out to catch him if needed. After reaching the bottom, she pointed him to the far side of the room where Ari and the midwife were sitting.

The warm sun was coming in through the windows by the door, giving the room a welcome feeling. Sounds of cooking and smells of breakfast came from the door behind the bar, accompanied by a laugh from someone within. The tables that he’d barely noticed last night were worn but lovingly polished. They reflected the morning light here and there with their imperfections, drawing his gaze to the people around them.

Most of the people were villagers like himself, scattered about and talking about inconsequential things. The rest were conscripts eating their meal, who glanced up at Tommy and Saress’s appearance.

There was none of the blatant animosity this morning between the two groups that Tommy had felt the last time he was here; just a slight lingering uneasiness he could pick up, radiating from around the room. That was a welcome thing, but he caught himself bristling as he noticed wary glances thrown Ari’s way.

What is her name? Tommy wondered while looking at the blonde sitting across from Ari. Taylin, that’s it, he remembered as he made his way over to them.

Ari tracked his slow, steady progress through the room while obviously evaluating his condition. Taylin paused their conversation noticing Ari’s attention somewhere else, and greeted Tommy with a smile.

“Good morning, Tommy,” Ari said as he arrived. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. I have a slight headache, and I’m a little unsteady on my feet,” he replied tiredly. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.” He realized the faint smell of cooking food was making him ravenous.

“Sit, I’ll tell unka’,” Taylin said as she rose and left for the kitchen.

Tommy sat and Ari reached across to brush his hair from his brow. He steeled himself for her touch, remembering her mentioning they had to exercise his Tol and it would hurt. But there was no feeling from her hand, which was strange and caused him to question her with a look.

“I’m holding my Tol tightly, Tomilanthus,” Ari said almost whispering, before continuing in a more normal tone. “I’m glad you want to eat; you seem to be recovering quickly. A friend of mine in the mage’s college was in bed for a week when she overdrew her Tol. It’s good to see you up.”

“What’s going on now?” Tommy asked.

“Beyond eating, not much for you,” Ari said as Taylin returned with Mr. Tarr and a bowl of eggs with some bread. “Thank you, Jarrod,” Ari said as he set the food down in front of Tommy.

“I can’t be doing much about the ondilaan, but I can at least put some food in your belly,” he said simply. “Taylin said you be wanting to see the sick?”

“Yes. I’d like to have them come here if they could. I’m tired from helping Oldsby’s men and need to stay close to Sergeant Moran. If I’m needed quickly and away from the inn, I won’t be able to get to him as fast as I should. I can go elsewhere if I need to as long as it’s somewhere nearby.”

“No, lady witch, we can meet your needs here just fine. I’ll get my son to help. What do you need?” he asked, not noticing Taylin’s frown.

“Something for someone to lay on if they need to. Some clean water, bandages or clean cloth, and something for privacy in case they need to bare their skin.”

“That’s easy enough,” Taylin said. “Unka’, we can just move this end around like we set up for harvest festival. Push the tables away and leave a place empty around one table. If we hang some blankets there, and there, no one will be able to see.”

“Aye, lass. That be making sense. Word has spread about how you helped Oldsby’s men, lady witch, and I’ve had a few say they're willing to have you see them. Let’s get it done.” He walked back into the kitchen, returning a short while later with a younger man.

Arisaylia said nothing as Jarrod explained to the new man what was happening, and they began moving tables away from the one they were sitting at, separating them from the room. Taylin returned from somewhere with a few blankets, and Saress unexpectedly joined in helping hang the blankets from the beams on the ceiling while Taylin happily chatted away about how Sergeant Moran was improving. And in a surprisingly short time, the table Tommy was at was separated from the greater room in a curtained-off enclosure.

The young man, whose name turned out to be Martol, brought a low cot in and then left with a nod. Saress had left her hood down the entire time, and they could hear Martol whispering questions to his father, who replied with quiet exasperation, “Go ask her yourself, you fool!” This seemed to amuse Saress as she sat at the table once more, her ears cocked towards the two men through the curtain.

“Aren’t you needed?” Tommy asked her, taking another bite.

“No. The archers are well enough under Mikus’s command. They stay to the barn, and I am to stay with you. The troop is well.”

Tommy grunted, returning to his food as Taylin came in with steaming mugs. “Some tea,” she said, to a general chorus of thank-yous.

Ari began asking Taylin about the injuries of the villagers while Saress sipped her tea, her ears periodically moving in response to whatever she heard beyond the curtain. Eventually, Mr. Tarr came in and asked if they were ready to call the injured. Ari indicated they were, and Taylin left with him.

“I am going to be doing some more healing. I cannot let the villagers suffer, not when I can help them, and not when their suffering can be avoided. I let you rest while I assisted Oldsby’s men, but hopefully you can help with the villagers’ healing today. Because if you can, there will be no need for the Tol’An. But first, we need to see if you are even able. Give me your hand; I will release my Tol and see how it feels to you.”

Tommy wasn’t too keen on this and tentatively reached out his hand. Taking it into her own she said, “Here we go,” and he started to feel her Tol. It was distant at first, utterly unlike how it usually felt with its familiar warm waves. This time it seemed like a slowly intensifying echo, and as that echo increased, he could feel a static along the edges of it. The static evolved into a numbing, sharp-edged tingling that prickled at his insides. With a grunt, he let go while shaking his hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked in concern.

“Yes. It hurts a little, but not bad,” he said as the feeling rapidly went away.

“Do you want to try again?” Ari asked, wondering if he was really ready for this.

Tommy paused thinking about it for a moment, then reached out his hand once more. After Ari clasped it, the uncomfortable prickling sensation returned, increasing to a barely tolerable level before evening out. He grunted again as the feeling spread throughout his entire body.

“It hurts, like constantly brushing your skin on a thorn bush, but it’s stopped getting worse.”

Ari continued watching him, evaluating what he’d said. “All right. I’m still holding myself back a little ... Can you take some more?”

Tommy grunted at this and considered. It wasn’t pure pain, he realized, but it was uncomfortable. He figured he could take a little more, and nodded to her while steeling himself. Ari watched him a moment longer, before the feelings started increasing once more as she released the rest of her Tol.

The prickling of thorns sensation increased into a ragged chorus of pain that tormented him, both burning and freezing, all at the same time. He could feel his inner pathways standing out with startling clarity because of the pain illuminating them as they wound their way throughout his body. Something sizzled and popped inside of his pathways, and he realized that this was his Tol reacting to Ari’s presence. He made the mistake of trying to gather it, and this caused a roaring inferno of pain before he released his Tol, allowing it to once again return to its chaotic bursts of agony.

“Gnnngh …” Tommy complained, half moaning as he took the pain. He clenched her hand tighter as he felt her move to let go. “No. Wait. Let me see if I can take it,” he gasped out, clenching his eyes shut against the pain.

She stopped trying to withdraw her hand and they stayed that way for a time, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Eventually, the pain morphed into a spreading numbness throughout his body. There was no denying that it still hurt, but it wasn’t taking all of his concentration to bear it.

“I think I can handle it,” he said, looking at her with partially gritted teeth, unaware of his dilated eyes.

“Are you sure?” Ari asked, ready to stop in an instant but impressed with his resolve.

“No, but I don’t want to let anybody down,” he said quietly, staring off into space as an uncomfortable burst of sensation stabbed behind his eyes.

Ari silently watched him before Taylin pushed through the curtain and said the first villagers were here. “A moment, Taylin,” Ari said, who nodded and left. She could be heard talking familiarly to someone in the room she obviously knew.

“For this to work, Tomilanthus, you must be able to follow along with me as I use my Tol. I will be doing nothing to you, nor drawing from you, so there will be no change to what you feel now. The fact of observing me using my pathways will let your mind set the same pathways within yourself to a degree, which is what I’m trying to achieve. If you’re sure you want to do this you must keep one hand on me at all times, and signal if you must let go.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still dilated.

“Then let us begin. Saress? Watch us, please. He may pass out.” She gave him a concerned look before calling Taylin to bring the first person in.

Tommy really didn’t remember that first person, or the next few after that. Arisaylia’s Tol had wrapped around his like a blanket and drawn him inside of her. The numbing pain did worsen, despite what she’d said. But after a few people the pain lessened, allowing the numbness to grow. And something inside of him changed also, the ragged and raw feeling that spurred his pain lessening to something that was as if he had a sunburn on his insides.

Eventually, he became more aware of what was happening around him. As the people came in, Ari asked them some questions. And she made sure they were comfortable with her using her magic on them before she started to heal their wounds. It was obvious that most were not comfortable with magic, but Taylin’s words about Sergeant Moran’s healing calmed their nerves.

Ari would have them uncover their wounds, and then she would place her hands as best she could around them, making contact with their skin. As she made contact, the thing that made that person a person could be felt; similar, but much different than the feeling of Tol he’d become used to. Some people had a larger or smaller definition to this thing that made them themselves, but nothing that said ‘magic’ to Tommy’s mind. Then, once this contact was made, she would push her Tol into them.

It was that push that hurt the most, and what had kept him from remembering the first few people she healed. There was a barrier of some kind she had to pass through that constricted around her Tol, almost as if it was trying to keep her from entering. It was tight and restricting, but barely impeded Arisaylia’s progress as she passed through and into them.

Then she felt for something that Tommy could only describe as ‘wrong’. When she found it, she pushed her Tol into the areas around the wrongness, pushing the wrongness out back through the barrier like you would rid yourself of a splinter. Then these ‘right’ areas of the person would sparkle and shimmer as she fed her energy into them; almost as if she was asking them to grow. He could tell it took a lot of energy to do what she was doing, and he felt the strength of her Tol lessening with every person she healed.

In time, Taylin brought in a young woman around Tommy’s age. She was obviously scared, acutely uncomfortable, and sat as if it pained her. When Ari asked her what was wrong, her eyes settled on Tommy and dilated in fear. Then she shook her head back and forth in explicit denial of whatever was troubling her.

Taylin, in concern, placed her hand on her shoulder. “Pari …” she said quietly, allowing her words to drift off. Pari placed her hand over Taylin’s and stared off into space, a look of hopelessness and despair coming to her face. She ducked her head in shame after glancing again at Tommy, obviously ill at ease.

“Close your eyes, Tomilanthus,” Saress said into the quiet of the room as her warm hands covered his ears.

He did as she asked after catching a look full of meaning in her golden, slitted eyes. He heard some mumbling from the woman after being deafened. It started haltingly, and she was obviously being prompted to answer by Ari and Taylin. Pari eventually uttered something in a short, sharp tone that caused Ari to stiffen. Tommy could feel Ari’s Tol roiling through her in what he could only describe as anger, and he heard movement around him.

Saress removed her hands a moment later, and he opened his eyes to see Pari lying on the cot with Ari leaning to place her hands under her blouse on her belly. He felt Ari’s Tol enter Pari as it had the others, however, there was no single feeling of wrongness here. There were many smaller pinpricks of harm, and a sense of violation near two patches of Pari that had more definition than the rest. A shadow seemed to intrude over her entire being, seeming to convey she had suffered some indignity that had affected her greatly.

As Ari moved through Pari, it dawned on him that there was a shadow covering a third spot of sharp definition, mingling and adding to it. And as he watched through the blanket of Ari’s Tol, he could see this speck of shadowed definition divide, and divide again. It grew and lodged itself into the part of Pari beside it, spreading its shadow further, and darkening Pari as a whole.

Suddenly, he realized that this speck of definition was ‘not Pari’; something different, something beginning, something new. And as Ari spread her Tol within Pari to feed the areas of rightness, Tommy reached out instinctively with his Tol to help this new thing he’d discovered.

This thing of mingling shadow and brightness was struggling to live, and felt oddly familiar to him as it reached out to him in return. His Tol flared into renewed pain as a connection formed between them, and a ragged feeling of thorns flared along his pathways. While both the light and shadow had reached out to him equally, something inside of him rejected and refused the shadow while allowing the light.

A clearly heard BONG tolled inside his head, and his Tol ghosted out of him in a smoky mist silhouetted in gold. It surrounded the tiny point of definition, and the shadows around it withdrew and withered away. And as the shadows retreated, the pain he was experiencing faded along with them.

He could clearly feel Ari’s Tol as it continued to feed the rightness within Pari. And that rightness grew into sparkling definition much faster than it had done before, a radiant glow filling Pari. Then Ari’s Tol wrapped his up, and they both withdrew from the woman, Ari’s Tol almost seemingly reluctant to leave.

When Tommy opened his eyes, he could see Pari crying, obviously in relief from whatever had ailed her. But the lost look of hopelessness and shame that had haunted her before was gone. Ari leaned in to give Pari a hug and stayed with her like that until the young woman’s tears came to an end. Pari thanked Ari profusely, her eyes shining with relief, eventually allowing herself to be led out by Taylin, casting Tommy a final questioning glance.

Ari turned to Tommy with a solemn gaze. “Do you know what you did?”

“No,” he replied, just thankful that the agony he’d felt earlier was gone.

“Explain to me what you felt,” she ordered, her face emotionless.

“I saw shadows, and they reminded me of the wrongs I feel you push out of people while you heal them,” he said, looking at her oddly. “They were gathered around a single point that was trying to survive, somehow changing it and spreading the shadows even more. I wanted to help stop the spread; it just felt right somehow to do that. So, I reached out and connected to it before I knew what I was doing. There was a big noise, my Tol spread around, and then the shadows went away.”

Ari stared at him for a long, uncomfortable time. She turned her head and looked at Saress for another long moment of silence before looking back at him.

“Do you still have pain?”

“No,” Tommy said, somewhat surprised. “A little tired, but I don’t hurt.”

Ari continued studying him without expression, her mind obviously churning in thought.

“What’s wrong, Ari? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Tommy, you healed her,” she said simply, getting a sharp look from Saress.

“Huh?”

“Pari was raped repeatedly, by many men. Her body was abused, her mind injured, and her will broken. To add further insult, she was pregnant by one of the beasts that did that to her. And her knowledge of that violation was tearing her apart.

“I was adding to her body to prompt it to reject the damaged parts, convince the body to heal itself, and add to the general wellbeing of that poor woman. I am a mage of living things, and my magic affects things in that way. Nothing I could have done could have taken the memories of what happened to her from her. Nothing I could have done could have changed the way she felt about what happened. And nothing I could have done would have altered the utter devastation that woman was going through.

“However, you did.

“You surrounded that new life and pulsed your Tol behind a shroud that echoed and shook throughout her entire being, her soul, and caused the pain of those memories and experiences to alter and change. Those were the shadows you felt; the damage to her soul. That was the spreading darkness you saw; that and the trauma to her mind.

“You healed that, Tomilanthus. You did. While injured. Only you. Alone. And in the process, you somehow healed yourself.

“I have no idea how you did what you did, but I watched you do it while surrounding you with my Tol. I will never forget what I saw. And, there is no way you should have been able to do that.”

She continued watching him before coming to some decision as she reached out, gripping his head in both hands. “J’al’osil Saress, vas tak,” she commanded, then thrust her Tol into him and began questing about, rapidly darting to-and-fro.

“What are you looking for?” he asked in surprise as she continued her search.

Saress watched with wide eyes, suddenly on guard, her hands beneath her cloak.

“Call your Tol please, and do not interfere,” Ari ordered tersely in reply. After a moment's pause he did so, bringing it to the area within him she was searching. He felt her Tol wrap around his own, restraining and restricting, poking and prodding, inspecting here and there, in careful scrutiny for many long minutes. Saress waved Taylin back through the curtain as she poked her head in while Ari continued searching, leaving no part of him unchecked. Eventually, Ari withdrew and sighed in noticeable relief.

“There is no rider, no influence, nothing there ... but you,” she said with a glance towards Saress in relief.

“Tommy, what you just did is something that is told about in stories from the ancient times. The masters do not know how to do what you just did; and you did it on instinct, by feel. The pace of your training must increase. Now. And quickly. You must learn to control your Tol actively before something more dangerous can occur.”

“Allia den’ta jahor a men alta Tol, Nisa Saliantrea?”

“Sa na tal, Saress. Sa na tal.”

Arisaylia watched Tommy for a moment longer as his thoughts blanked with a sudden flood of questions. He eventually asked, “Will I be okay?”

Saress let a surprised chuckle burst from her lips. “We are not worried, Tomilanthus. We are stunned.”

“Saress, find Donnor and bring him. Discreetly. Though quickly, please. Mikus may know of this, but others may not. I’ll need to search Donnor as well to try and understand. Have Taylin send in the next one.

“And Tommy? No more surprises, please,” Ari admonished with a single finger raised, while Saress left calling for the midwife.

Stirring the Pot

Donnor returned with Saress after a few hours, and many more villagers were healed during that time. Nothing was as intense as the healing of Pari, but many more women had been abused. Taylin stayed for those, and Tommy learned a reality he wished he’d never known that left him sad, angry, and protective, all at the same time.

With his renewed vigor, Ari again drew from him to help her heal, allowing her to continue long after she said she would have exhausted herself. Donnor must have asked Saress to wait before interrupting, because he entered as the last villager was leaving with a frustrated-looking Saress in tow.

“I needed a break and got some food while you two were finishing. What’s up?” Donnor asked.

“We’ve been here for over an hour, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress complained. “He would not let me disturb you, and you didn’t ask to be interrupted.”

Taylin threw Saress an amused glance while finishing cleaning up the remaining bandages. “I’ll bring some more tea. Why don’t you rest for a while? You’ve done a great thing here, my Lady.” Before Ari could protest, she ducked out between the curtains.

“See, even she knows your special,” Donnor said with a smile, while hooking a thumb at where Taylin had disappeared.

Ari pursed her lips and gave him a pointed look. She was just as uncomfortable with titles as he was, and he knew it. “Come here, Donnor,” she said, patting the bench beside her. As he sat down, she put both hands on either side of his head and closed her eyes. “Something happened during the healing and I need to look for something.”

“Okaaay.” Donnor drew the word out slowly, looking at Tommy and Saress in confusion. But he sat there gamely enough. “You look better.”

“I am, Da’. Ari was healing someone, and I did something, and now I’m suddenly better.”

“And she’s looking for that something in me? Why me?”

“Because you are his father,” Ari said, sitting back and removing her hands. “Nothing. Beyond that strange bright clarity to your soul that’s always been there, there is nothing.” She looked at Saress, who nodded.

“Mind letting me know what’s going on?”

Taylin could be heard calling to Mr. Tarr as she approached, then parted the curtain with a cluster of mugs. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but unka’ needs help. I’ll be back.” She disappeared back through the curtain again before Ari could say a word.

Donnor smirked. “Anyway, mind letting me know, my Lady?” he asked, gaining him another look.

“Tommy healed someone.”

“So? I thought that was what you were supposed to be doing.”

“I guess you didn’t hear me with all of that nothing inside you,” she said in irritation. “I said Tommy healed someone.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yes, it’s amazing actually. But the issue is that he did it on his own, instinctually, without any guidance. And he didn’t just heal someone's body; he eased a burden on their soul.”

“Okaaay,” he said in confusion, giving Tommy a look who shrugged in return.

“Donnor, my masters in the college working together as one couldn’t do something like that,” she said in frustration. “And they most likely wouldn’t even know where to begin if they tried.”

“It’s apparently a big deal,” Tommy said.

Saress snorted. “Almost like a no-name fisherman beating a trained swordmaster in a duel.”

“So, it’s shocking, I get that. But this is a good thing, right?”

“Yes, Donnor, it is. But, his Tol is expressing itself in ways I do not understand. His training needs to increase, and he needs to imprint his pathways inside himself immediately so he can avoid any injury. Then I need to teach him control so he can avoid any other issues. He is learning quickly, very quickly, but he needs to learn more.”

“So, what do you need?”

“Preferably a year of uninterrupted study,” she answered flatly, drawing a wide-eyed objection from Tommy.

“A year!” Tommy and his da’ both said together. They looked at each other in surprise, then back at Ari.

“Ari, Ilari, there’s no way I can give you a year. It just can’t happen. The ondilaan were calling last night, and we’ve seen them today in the woodline surrounding the fields watching us. They could attack at any moment. We have no idea how many there are, and I need him on the line and helping fight off an attack, so we don’t all end up dead.”

“I know, Donnor. I understand, I really do. But I’m telling you that he also needs training, badly. And that training needs to happen quickly. Sooner rather than later.”

“Tommy, do you want to be trained as a mage?” Donnor asked.

“Yes,” he said after thinking about it for a moment.

“Okay, then. Ari, I can only spare Tommy a few hours a day and not at all in an attack. I don’t know what you need or how much time, but can you limit it to that?”

“Yes, Donnor, I’m not ignoring our plight. I’m just trying to let you know what’s going on with our son,” she said almost accusingly.

Donnor flinched and reached out, cupping her cheek. “I’m sorry. I know. It’s just there’s only so much I can do. Is it okay to have him after dinner as we’ve done? I can spare him in the evenings the easiest.”

Ari sighed. “That will be fine for now. But please know that eventually, he will need uninterrupted days, if not weeks, of training for some of the things he must learn.” Taylin could again be heard calling to someone as she approached.

“Okay,” Donnor said, letting his hand drop as Taylin entered.

“There’s no one else, Lady, unka’ just checked,” she said to Ari as she set a pot of tea on the table.

“Just Ari please, Taylin.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Taylin replied, obviously intending to ignore that direction.

“Do you need Tommy and I, my Lady?” Donnor said, smirking once again. “If not, I could use him outside.”

“Ooooh, take your nothing and leave,” she said with returning annoyance.

Donnor rose with mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yes, my Lady,” he said, bowing while giving her a salute. “Come on, Tommy. Since you’re feeling better, you’re coming with me.” He grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him after him, trailed by the sound of Ari’s huff. Even Saress giggled at his antics, and as they left, Tommy could hear Ari scolding her in elven.

“I’m glad you’re better, son. You looked like a dying fish after Moran’s healing.”

“I felt like a dying fish,” he replied as they walked out into the misting rain towards a barn on the edge of the village.

“Well, since you’re not dying and I’ve decided to defend this village like I said I would, you’re needed in the rotation. Let’s get out of the rain and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

They entered the barn and dropped their hoods. Maybe half the troop was in the barn. Some were sitting by a fire burning in a ring of stones on the floor, but most were only feet sticking out of a few stalls along one wall from apparently sleeping men. A motion drew his gaze to the loft where some of the archers talked, watching out through the windows above. Mikus and Keris were sitting on stools by the correts who were in stalls on the opposite side from the men, and they stopped talking as Donnor and he walked over.

“Your gear is there, Tommy,” Donnor said while they walked, drawing peoples' gaze.

A scattering of “Hello’s” and “Welcome back’s” greeted him. Then one teasing, “Did you have a nice rest?” This was followed immediately by, “Where’s the beer?” from Karn that drew some chuckles.

“As you can see, we’re doing fine here,” Donnor said wryly, to more chuckles.

“Good ta’ see ya’, lad,” Mikus said, while Keris nodded silently in agreement. “Is he back fer’ good?”

“Yes, Mikey, he’s back for good. We need to get him caught up and then assign him to the rotation. I’ll probably do some spear work with him at some point, but I have no idea when. I need to go see Oldsby, so get him caught up, and I’ll be back. Oh, he’s now Ari’s for a couple hours in the evenings like he was on the way here, so keep that in mind.”

“Aye, Donnor,” Mikus said, as Donnor turned and headed back out into the rain. “Okay, laddie, let’s get ya’ sorted out. Ya’ passed out around noon yesterday, and it be midafternoon tha’ next day now. We be splittin’ tha’ ranks up inta’ watches an’ yer’ goin’ ta’ be doin’ yer’s tonight. Have ya’ eaten?” he asked, and got a nod from Tommy. “Good, that be makin’ it easy then. I be settin’ ya’ with Nalin an’ Dorn; they be sleepin’ now, but they be o’er there,” he said with a wave towards the stalls. “Yer’ watch be startin’ three candles past sundown, so since ya’ be extra fer’ now, ya’ be Keris’s till dinner.

“The ondilaan are watching us,” Keris began. “I guess they don’t like the rain either, but they’re out there. You can see them in the trees now and then if you look hard enough. They stopped calling sometime this morning, but they were making a lot of noise last night. I’m not sure if they’re building themselves up for something or just trying to keep us awake, but we’ll find out soon enough. Your job is to stand where we place you, stay awake, watch for the ondilaan, and report if you see them move into the fields. We’re putting you in groups of three or four so when you send a runner to report, no one is left alone. Any questions?”

“No, Keris.”

“Good, then let’s get you over to Martok. He’s working in the tannery on refitting the ondilaan’s armor so we can have some for ourselves, and he could use some help. The problem is, that building is right next to the creek on the southern edge of the village, and that’s where Oldsby and his men said the ondilaan seem to be coming from the most. Grab your gear, but leave your pack here, and I’ll take you out.”

Keris stood and grabbed his gear while Tommy did the same. Tommy still ached some, but it was distant, and he was glad to find that the weight of his weapons and shield didn’t aggravate anything. They raised their hoods and walked back out into the rain, past a couple of houses, to an open-walled building with Martok and some other men in it.

The building was roughly three or four spears in length, by about half that in width, with thick log pillars in each corner supporting a sloped roof that shed the rain’s water away from the village. A large table was beside Martok that had some of the ondilaan armor on it, and he was using a knife to trim pieces off. Steam rose from a large cauldron over a fire on the other side of the building with a pile of leather beside it. Men stood under the eaves on the southern edge, staying out of the rain as they watched out over the southern fields.

“Martok,” Keris called out as they walked up. “We’ve got Tommy back for a few hours. He’s yours if you need help, or the watch’s here if you don’t.”

“Aye, Keris, I could use the help,” Martok replied. “The tanners that lived here across the way refused to help,” he said, nodding to the remains of one of the destroyed southern houses. “Their house was destroyed, and one of their girls was … well … it wasn’t good for her before Oldsby arrived.” He spat on the floor beside him. “I’m doing what I can, but any help would be welcome.”

Keris frowned hearing about the girl, but nodded, took a look around, and walked back towards the barn muttering something about digging someone up to kill them again.

“Put your spear and shield down on the other end of the table,” Martok said, interrupting Tommy’s eavesdropping. “I could use your help doing simple things I can’t do while I’m trimming these down to fit. Ya’ see the pile of jerkins there?” He indicated to the pieces by the cauldron on the dirt floor. “I need those softened in the solution I’m heating in that pot. Build the fire up and get the water hot, but not boiling, and start putting the jerkins in. There’s a large paddle around here somewhere to use to stir the pot and get the leather out. Don’t put your hand in or it’ll get badly burnt. Keep stirring the pot slowly so the leather doesn’t burn when it sinks to the bottom. Now get to it, and bring me the soft ones when they’re ready.”

Tommy walked over to the pot, added some wood to the fire, and got the water hotter. He found the paddle which reminded him of one of the oars they sometimes used on the Serensea. Stirring the water with it, he discovered there was already a jerkin soaking in the pot. That one was still a little bit stiff, so he added another, then another, before finding that the pot seemed to only be able to hold three at a time before being filled completely. He started stirring the pot, his thoughts dulling with the mindless task.

The other men in the building moved closer, enjoying the heat of the fire, but continued talking amongst themselves after giving him a “Hello.” They were just ordinary people, he learned, listening to them talk about their homes far away in the east, near Tatdavarr.

They mentioned things that had no meaning to Tommy; referencing ‘The Houses’ repeatedly and he picked up that these houses seemed to compete amongst themselves. Apparently, each house had a lord, and one house or another was trying to reach the throne. But the house that had the throne had been there for a while and wasn’t moving. Their tales reminded Tommy of a game they used to play in the village where you tried to knock a person off the top of a mound, and it seemed kind of silly for these houses, controlling so much, would be doing the same thing.

He brought a ready jerkin over to Martok who nodded in thanks, then returned and started stirring again. While he was stirring, listening to the talk, he figured he’d play around with his Tol and started calling it to one place or the other, amusing himself. Without realizing it, the hours passed quickly by while he listened, stirred, softened, and carried for Martok.

Eventually, Kerris returned and asked how things were going. Martok had altered three or four jerkins since Tommy had arrived, and he reported he had twelve more ready to go but for the drying, then five more left to go after that. Martok started describing what he could do with the scrap from his alterations, but Keris stopped him, simply saying there wasn’t time. Keris made sure he could take Tommy, then had him hang the drying jerkins on the paddle and carry them to the barn. Then Tommy returned the paddle to Martok before being dismissed to the inn for his meal, and time with Ari.

Tommy returned, finding the inn bustling. He saw Pari across the room, causing a flare of protectiveness to rise up from somewhere inside him. His Tol stirred itself into wakefulness on its own, almost seeming to look out through his eyes. She gave him a small, closed-lip smile as she noticed him walk in, before returning to an ongoing conversation with the young women at her side.

Ari waved him over as his Tol settled itself, which was when he noticed Saress leaning against the wall in the shadows. She was casually situated to keep watch on the door, the stair, and everyone else in the entire room. Giving him a nod as he sat, he noticed her hood had been left down, which was the first she’d done so around people she didn’t know as far as he knew.

Ari greeted him and then continued talking with the women she sat with, exchanging meaningless stories about their villages and the people in them. It was simple talk, and Ari seemed to be allowing the other women to lead the conversation. They were very curious about the witch who’d healed them, and they nicely interrogated her while he sat and listened for some minutes.

“I need to be back for guard duty three candles past sundown,” he said during a pause in the conversation.

Ari nodded and looked at the setting sun through the window, judging the time. “Ladies? It’s been wonderful chatting, but I have to check on Sergeant Moran. If you’ll excuse me?” She smiled and was accompanied by many variations of “Of course,” “Nice talking to you,” and “Goodbyes,” as she gathered Saress and climbed the stair, knocking softly at Sergeant Moran’s door before entering.

Inside, Taylin greeted them with a bright “Hello” and a smile. She was in the process of removing his bandage, which revealed a much-improved wound with minimal odor and greatly reduced signs of infection.

“You’re doing wonderful, Sergeant. How do you feel?” Ari asked, touching his skin around the wound.

“Tired mainly. I’m hungry though, and no one will let me eat,” he complained.

“That would be my fault, Sergeant. The poison will strengthen if you tire yourself out by digesting a meal. I won’t have you die of poison after I put all that energy into healing you,” she said as she eyed him with humor.

He grunted at this, then again as Taylin started cleaning his wound with water and a cloth. Then Ari assisted in reapplying his poultice and a bandage when she was done. The process seemed to tire him out, but he was nowhere near the sweating exhausted mess he had been the morning before.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly when they were done.

“Let me inspect you before I leave,” Ari said as she laid her hands on him, closing her eyes. Moran watched her intently while she worked on him with her Tol, based on what Tommy could feel. After a few short minutes, she opened her eyes. “You are much improved. Maybe we’ll have some food tomorrow evening.”

“I hope so. Thank you again.”

They left for their room after exchanging goodbyes. After pushing the beds to the walls and settling on the floor, Ari said, “We’re going to be doing something different than what we’ve done before. Even with as quickly as you are doing everything else, this should be hard for you to do. At least I think so. If it’s not, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you. Anyway, we’re going to skip years of initial training and jump right into a control exercise.”

“Observe,” she directed as a small ball of light popped into being in the air between them. “This is a simple mage globe that most mages use in place of a candle for light. What I am doing is taking my Tol and pushing it out through my skin, like we did before to keep the rain off. But this time, I form a bubble with my Tol and continue pushing it away from me, separating it from my body. I have to keep feeding it energy after it leaves for it to continue to exist, but this drain is so minimal it is almost nonexistent.

“However, it still takes conscious control of your Tol to maintain the globe. And, though you can form the globe from anywhere on your body, each different place you form it from will require a different pathway your Tol must follow. It also takes concentration to move the mage globe where you want it to go, and that concentration and control are what we will be training today.

“Eventually, we are going to be playing catch with a mage globe. It may seem silly and childish, but it will be difficult, and is a very effective way for teaching a mage to control their Tol. So, we need to begin. First, let’s join hands, and I’ll form a new globe so you can feel what I am doing.”

Ari’s first globe winked out as she reached out one hand and clasped his. Her Tol reached out to him, and she looked at him oddly. “Have you been practicing?”

He told her about playing with his Tol out of boredom while stirring the cauldron for Martok over the last few hours.

“Good job. Your pathways are more defined than they were even this morning, and your recovery from the injury is almost complete. Keep doing this as long as it doesn’t distract you.” She visibly changed her line of thinking. “Watch what I do; I will go slowly. If you need me to do it again, please say so.”

Gathering her Tol, she squeezed it out through her skin and formed a bubble. However, his feeling of her bubble disappeared as he felt her pushing on it, before the mage globe formed between them.

“What happened to it? It disappeared from you.”

“Look closer. Here,” she said as she guided his awareness to a shining pathway inside of her.

He’d never looked at her inner self so closely. And, as she prompted, he discovered an extremely fine strand of something extending from her to the globe. As he inspected it, his Tol touched the strand and broke it, extinguishing the globe after a sudden flare of brightness.

“And that’s why we practice with a mage globe. What you just did is called by some, ‘banishing’. Basically, you interrupted the flow of magic from its source to its target. When that is done to a mage, it can lead to the magic snapping back into them, causing a backlash mages feel as a headache. Sometimes it can lead to being stunned, and even being knocked unconscious if it is bad enough. Luckily with the mage globe, it just gives a barely perceptible pinch and that is all. Let’s try again. And pay attention to how it’s forming without touching it, hmm?”

She formed another globe, this time Tommy watching intently as she pushed the bubble from herself while leaving that minuscule strand as a conduit to feed her magic through. “Did you see?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, you try.”

And with those words, his training for the evening began. He never actually formed a globe before he had to go, but at least he got close … and that was what he was going to keep telling himself.

Eventually, they worked out a process that seemed easiest for him, where he formed his Tol in his hand and then tried to stretch it out from his fingertips. They spent much of their time talking about what was actually happening.

Or not happening, Tommy thought in frustration.

The stretching was what was defeating him they concluded. He could call his Tol easily enough, but ‘pushing’ it into forming a bubble was going nowhere fast. All he could seem to do was cause a ripple on the surface of whatever he called, and that ripple constantly changed the place it originated from with his inexperienced jostling of it. He even tried changing how his magic formed, from following the shape and outline of his fingers to forming a globe inside of him all at once. But that failed also without any actual result.

“I’m actually glad you can’t instantly do this, Tomilanthus,” Ari said after he admitted defeat. “I developed control of my Tol at an early age, but most take years to advance to where you are now. You’ve only known about your Tol for days, and if you kept advancing so quickly, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with you.”

“It is almost time, Nisa Saliantrea.”

“Yes, thank you, Saress. Let’s go back downstairs and wait for your father. He said he’d be coming to get you and meet us there.”

A Long Night

“We’ve taken over the northern side, the western side, and we share the southern side with the conscripts that were already here,” Donnor said over his meal. “The conscripts have better equipment and armor, so they’re being held back a bit from the watches to keep them rested in case of an attack. The ondilaan started calling as soon as the sun set, and you’ll hear it as soon as we leave.”

“Are they going to attack?” Ari asked. She, Saress, and Tommy were listening intently to his explanation, after Saress had asked how the troop was deployed.

“I don’t know. I’ve never actually fought them before; the first time was the other day. Keris and Oldsby both say it’s unusual for them to stay for so long in one place and keep calling. So, as far as I know, there could be multiple groups out there. I’m worried the only thing that was stopping them from attacking was the rain, and the rain just stopped a bit ago,” he said as he finished his meal.

“Saress, you stay with Ari for now. Moran, Oldsby, and I worked out a rotation and a rough plan of how we’re going to do this. For now, I have mornings, Keris has evenings, and Mikus has nights. We’ll be trading off control of the men on guard during those times.

“Oldsby is holding most of his men here, in and around the inn, as a reserve,” Donnor explained. “The rest of them are at the mill. Moran’s going to sit the next day or two out while he heals. So, we get to be the front line,” he said wryly as Oldsby entered the inn and went upstairs.

“Everything we do will be centered on the inn. Jarrod Tarr has spread word for the villagers to come here in case of an attack. A couple of houses are already holding more than one family, and we’re trying to get families on the edge of the village to leave their homes and stay here. Any wounded we’ll also be sending here for whatever you can do for them.

“Saress, you keep doing what you do for Ari, your archers are fine.” She nodded.

“Ari, everything you’ve done here by healing the villagers has really paid off,” Donnor continued. “I know you weren’t looking for anything from it, but the villagers are coming around. Oldsby said he was worried the villagers might attack him before we arrived, and I’ve heard his men say they’re glad they don’t have to guard those who sleep. Since tensions are coming down, the villagers are also starting to help protect the place. Pointing out windows with good views, places the ondilaan could hide, and the like.

“We need to hold this village since Redtail has no idea what’s happened here, until we find some way to get word to them. If the ondilaan leave, the troop will go find them, but Oldsby and Moran have to stay here. Word needs to be sent to Redtail that the other two troops have had so many deaths there is basically now only one; but for now, there’s nothing we can do. If we can eliminate these ondilaan then it’ll be safe enough to send a runner back to the Hold. But for now, we’re stuck.

“I’ll be right back.” He rose and took his empty plate to the bar, receiving thanks from Mr. Tarr’s son. “Come on, Tommy, let’s get you to Mikus. It’s time for me to sleep and I need to get my rest when I can.” After a goodbye to the ladies, he led Tommy out the door and back to the barn.

The rain had stopped. The night was cool and damp with a breeze seemingly designed to take the warmth of the inn right out of Tommy. Scents of rain still lingered in the air, but the clouds of the past days were patchy and broken, and stars were finally able to be seen peeking through. It would have been a nice evening except for the sounds of the ondilaan, which sent a shiver through Tommy that the cold did not.

The first thing Tommy heard when he left the inn was a laughing cackle of an ondilaan in the distance. Its HEHEHE was echoed by another cackle on the other side of the village while a low whooOOP carried from behind him, somewhere past the bridge. There was a long, low noise lasting many moments, barely heard, that Tommy thought might be a growl. But it was so hard to hear it was hard to tell. After that, silence fell. It was a creepy welcome to the evening, and made him glad they entered the barn when they did.

“Lad, come here,” Mikus called. “This be Nalin and Dorn, ye three be guardin’ tha’ northern side tonight. There be a shack there tha’ has a good view o’ tha’ fields. Since there be three o’ ye, one person stays in tha’ shack while tha’ other two walk tha’ edge o’ tha’ village from time ta’ time. We been seein’ tha’ ondilaan in tha’ wood there, but they not be callin’ as much as tha’ other sides. Keep a close eye out, an’ send someone a runnin’ if they come ta’ tha’ fields. Don’t be leavin’ yer’ post,” he admonished. “Let’s go.” He led them back out of the barn and through the village to the shack.

Dorn was a human that Tommy had spoken to only passingly on the way here. He was a little shorter than Tommy, but had wide, broad shoulders. A farmer, most of his family had been killed except for one of his older daughters and a son. Dorn’s girl was almost old enough to marry, and he had left his son with her back at Redtail in his wife’s sister’s keeping, who had also survived. Dorn was quiet and somewhat aloof, but seemed to surprise himself joining in with the banter around the fires in the evening.

Nalin, however, Tommy knew very little about. Nalin was a halfling, his head barely reaching the bottom of Tommy’s chest. As Nalin walked in front of him, Tommy took a moment to compare him to Mikus since the two walked side by side.

Mikus was a thick, bulky, muscular plug of an individual. Everything about him saying thick and hard to move. Nalin was roughly the same size, being only a little shorter, but he reminded Tommy of someone who ate too much. All the halflings roughly looked that way so Tommy knew it was something that made them ‘halfling’, and wasn’t from actually overeating. All the halflings in the troop were friendly enough, but there were only four of them, and they seemed to find each other and stay to themselves when the troop stopped for the evening.

“Here ye be,” Mikus said quietly as they passed between two houses and saw a drying shack before them.

The shack itself was built mainly to allow air to flow through for drying various plants, with wide spaces between the boards of its walls, and a roof with a large overhang all the way around. It was completely open on the village side with two steps up to a floor, raised well off the ground. Various tools and implements were scattered about on a long table, and there were flowers and herbs hanging upside down along the walls and ceiling to dry.

Talius and Hartok, two of Keris’s men, were standing inside the shack, looking through the spaces in the walls with their eyes on the fields. As they approached, Tommy again heard that barely perceptible low growl coming from somewhere far off to his left.

“How it be?” Mikus looked out towards the treeline as they climbed the stair.

“They’re out there, Mikus,” Hartok said. “We haven’t seen any since Oldsby’s men bunked down at the mill, but they’re out there. That mill is awful close to the trees, but it seems to bother the ondilaan when they moved in there. The calls have dropped off ever since.”

“Aye, Oldsby be there. Tha’ mill be havin’ stone in tha’ foundation an’ have tha’ protectin’ o’ it. There be a wee tor across tha’ stream so it be hard ta’ approach.” Hartok looked over there, grunting. “They be worryin’ abou’ tha’ stream an’ tha’ bridge from there.

“All right, ye be done,” Mikus said, after gazing around in silence a bit longer. “I don’ be seein’ any right now so you two be done an’ you three be startin’ now. Keep som’un here all tha’ time. Ye can walk to tha’ house o’er there,” Mikus pointed to the west. “An’ ta’ tha’ pigsty o’er there by tha’ mill,” pointing east, “but no further. Stay together on yer’ walk, send a runner if they enter tha’ fields, an’ don’ leave yer’ post. Any questions?”

“No,” all three of them replied.

“Good, I be by now an’ again all night. Stay awake.” He walked with the other two back into the village.

Tommy, Nalin, and Dorn all looked at each other and then out into the fields. They could hear the calls of the ondilaan around them, with most of the sounds coming from behind them on the other side of the village.

“I can’t see a damned thing,” Nalin complained. Tommy realized the tops of the crops in front of them were level with his eyes. Nalin pulled a stool away from the wall and stood on it. “That’s better,” he muttered.

“I guess we’ll be the ones walking, huh?” Dorn asked.

“Well, I can’t see much over the crops, but I’m not going to stand here on this stool until morning, Dorn,” Nalin said with annoyance.

“No, guess not,” Dorn replied as they stood there a while longer, looking out into the darkness.

The clouds seemed to be continuing to clear, and the soft light they let through allowed Tommy to see easily around him. Grain filled the fields he could see, and he judged it was just a short time before they were ready to harvest. Some of the fields were split by low hedges, but not as many as he’d seen over on the other side of the bridge. After a while, silence fell around them as the calls of the ondilaan drifted off. Then, many minutes later, the normal sounds of night returned.

The peacefulness of the regular sounds of the night clashed with the knowledge that the ondilaan were out there; most likely in the forest surrounding the village where Tommy couldn’t see. All three of them seemed to be thinking the same thing as they glanced between them.

“Why don’t you two take a walk?” Nalin said, turning back to the woods after a glance to the roof above him.

Dorn looked at Tommy who shrugged, then Dorn jerked his head towards the stair, and the two of them left the shack. They were almost to the western house when the sky cleared momentarily, and Tommy heard that almost imperceptible low growl he’d heard before. It continued on for a long couple of moments before ending, seeming to come from the north.

“Did you hear that?” Tommy asked quietly.

“Hear what?”

“That growl.”

Dorn stopped and motioned Tommy to stop also. He cocked his head, turning it back and forth, obviously trying to hear whatever Tommy had heard.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he said, giving Tommy an odd look.

“There it is again,” Tommy said as the growl sounded again off to the north.

They stood in silence for a while as Dorn looked off that way before saying, “No. I hear nothing.” He started walking again.

Tommy grunted, not saying anything else as the sound dwindled off when they started walking again. They reached the western house, its windows shuttered and no light coming through from within. They stopped there for a while under a tree behind the house and looked out into the fields around them.

Tommy could see the barn where the troop was bunked down to the south. There was a sliver of light from within, piercing the darkness over the fields from an open door. After a while he saw another pair on the edge of the village as they passed the barn, walking away from them. Whoever they were, they were from their troop by the equipment, but they were too far away to tell who they were.

A low Ooooo sounded from the west beyond the trees. It drew their eyes to the road leading off into the distance, though there was nothing on it to be seen. After waiting a while longer, they started walking back towards the shack.

Once they got there, they checked in on Nalin who said he was fine. They stopped for a bit before continuing on towards the pen which was much closer than the house had been. Before they reached it, the odor of pigs filled the air; and the odor was accompanied by the increasing sounds of frogs since they were getting closer to the stream the further they went.

They stopped at the pen as they’d been told, watching out into the fields. Nothing. Some soft light was peeking out from the shuttered windows of the mill, and one of the pigs snorted in its sleep, but that was it. They stood there watching for a while, but as they turned to return to the shack, that low barely perceptible growl sounded again.

Tommy reached out for Dorn’s arm and stopped him. “Do you hear that?”

Dorn stopped again and looked around, turning his head and trying to hear. They stood that way for some time, looking out, before Dorn said, “I don’t hear anything. I think your nerves are getting to you.”

“I swear I heard something,” Tommy said, now questioning himself.

“It’s the dark. It does strange things to the mind. Come on,” he said as he started walking back to the shack.

Nalin was still there and said he was fine, not seeing or hearing anything beyond the periodic calls of the ondilaan from the south and west. They stayed there long enough for a cloud to disappear, letting in more starlight before making the next round of their patrol.

Again, Tommy heard that almost imperceptible growl whenever they stopped, and again Dorn heard nothing. It was a little maddening to Tommy because he was sure he wasn’t imagining things. But as sure as he was that he heard something, Dorn was just as sure he was letting his nerves get to him.

They traded places throughout the night and continued their patrol, everyone taking a turn alone in the shack. Standing alone in the shack was nerve-wracking after a while. As Dorn and Nalin walked away, he could hear the crunch of their boots fade into silence almost as if they’d disappeared. Only as they moved could they be seen, and Tommy realized the route of their patrol was almost constantly in shadow.

With the silence, even the smallest of sounds could be heard. He jumped more than once as a mouse or some other critter moved around inside the shack with him. The darkness, not hearing or seeing Dorn and Nalin, the noises of whatever was in the shack with him, and the calls of the ondilaan from somewhere out there in the darkness all combined to press that feeling of being alone down on top of him.

After a few hours, Mikus returned and asked how things were going. They reported they’d seen nothing and ribbed Tommy a little for the growls he’d been hearing.

“Huh. Dap, Lari, an Rast say they be hearin’ tha’ same thing …” Mikus said, naming the three sprite bowmen. “I don’ be knowin’ if it be meanin’ anythin’, but be payin’ attention when ye be hearin’ it. Anyway, I need ta’ make me rounds.” After another look around, he walked off.

Tommy felt more than a little vindicated he wasn’t the only one hearing something; that it wasn’t completely his imagination. They all looked at one another.

“Guess you’re not crazy,” Nalin said.

“Guess not.”

After that almost apology, they started their patrols again. The night wore on, and Tommy decided guard duty was not fun. His mind wandered as he walked the route, this time with Nalin, while fighting his desire to sleep. Nalin seemed to be keeping himself awake by banging his foot with his spear every time he yawned, until he thumped himself a little too hard and paused for a moment to rub his toes.

They continued on, and this time they were close enough to the western patrol when they reached the house, they decided to stop and talk for a while. Canner and Sollip were tired too and said they’d seen nothing either, but there were many more noises to the south compared to what they’d heard up here. They told them about having the archers in the loft of the barn looking out over the western fields, and Tommy jealously wished he had someone with a bow looking over his shoulder. They’d heard about the growls from Mikus, but neither of them had heard any of them. As they separated to go back on their patrols, the growl sounded again.

“There it is again,” Tommy said, and they all paused to listen. Tommy closed his eyes in concentration, pointing his hand to where it seemed to be coming from. He found he was pointing northwest. “That way. I think it’s that way.” They all turned. “There, it stopped.”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Nalin reported as the others chimed in that they hadn’t heard anything either.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Tommy mumbled, continuing to stare where he thought he’d heard it.

“Come on, let’s keep going,” Nalin said as they left, saying their quiet goodbyes to the other patrol.

They had just passed the shack when there was a loud whooOOP from the other side of the village, while a chorus of cackling began behind them. They froze, suddenly wide awake, before running quickly back to the shack. This was much to the relief of Dorn who was looking nervously back into the village.

Many more whooOOPs sounded, and it was obvious there were many, many throats issuing the calls to the south. Almost immediately, another chorus of whooOOPs sounded from the other side of the stream, then from the western treeline as they whipped their heads around with each new call that shattered the night.

The piercing din continued from all around them in an unnerving cacophony of sound as their nerves frayed with the intensity of it. Suddenly, the louds calls stopped, while the cackling continued to rise and fall. Then eventually only sounding from the west, for many long minutes, before suddenly the silence of the night returned.

Tommy’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his head. He realized he was tightly clenching his Tol, but that realization was only an idle thought as he continued nervously looking around.

“Can’t blasted see a damn thing,” Nalin was saying, now standing on the drying table, looking out over the fields with wide, fear-filled eyes.

A tingling spread over Tommy as he realized his Tol was in a heightened state. He was ready to move instantly in any direction, the slightest noise immediately gaining his and his Tol’s complete attention. They stayed there, nervously anticipating something happening.

But nothing did.

Eventually, after long minutes of silence where all they could hear was the wind, the sounds of the night returned. The insects chirped, and the night callers sang, eerie in their normalcy with what had just occurred.

All of them had unknowingly lowered themselves into the ready position, their spears and their bodies set for instant use. They turned slowly, pivoting and searching for something, anything, but there just wasn’t anything there.

After a while Nalin huffed and raised his spear. “Getting heavy,” he said, somewhat apologetically, as he continued to look around.

There was a noise back behind them and Fald ran up. “Anything going on here?”

“No, the calls and cackling were everywhere, but nothing here,” Nalin said.

“Mikus wants to know if you heard any of that growling.”

“No, nothing,” replied Tommy.

“Okay. He said stay here and stay alert,” Fald said, before rushing off back into the village.

They continued to watch the fields and it became hard not to imagine things. Every noise, every sound, instantly gained their attention, and Tommy now wasn’t the only one who cursed the mouse moving around with them in the shack. After a while though, with nothing happening, they started to relax. About an hour passed as they stood there listening to the normal sounds of night before Mikus walked up again to check on them.

“Anythin’?”

“No, Mikus, nothing,” Tommy said.

“Okay, start yer’ walks again. They be playin’ wi’ our heads I be thinkin’. I want ta’ know if ya’ hear tha’ growlin’.”

“Aye, Mikus,” he said, as Mikus walked away.

“I guess I’m walking,” Tommy mumbled, since he was the only one who could hear the growls.

Nalin volunteered to join him this time and they walked off towards the western house. The clouds had continued to clear throughout the night and the larger of the two moons was out from behind the clouds, shining its silvery sheen on everything. Tommy still couldn’t see past the woodline, but everything else was brightly lit, allowing him to relax even more.

“Finally, the moon,” Nalin mumbled. “Barely been able to see a damn thing till now.”

“Really?”

“It’s almost black as coal out here! Are you trying to say you can?”

“Yeah … I can see all the way to the treeline. Been watching it all night,” Tommy said in tired confusion.

“You have keen eyes then Tommy, along with keen ears. I can barely see further than I can throw a stone or two. If it wasn’t for the light of the moon, I’d be scared spitless. More than I already am,” he admitted, still looking out over the fields as best he could.

“Huh,” Tommy grunted, remembering Saress saying he probably had some elven traits. Guess she was right.

They continued their patrol, neither of them hearing or seeing a thing. Dorn switched off with Nalin after a while and they continued walking their route, keeping watch until morning.

The false dawn came, and with it, birdsong started to sound. The birds could be seen flittering about in the fields in the rising light. A cow lowed from somewhere in the village over by the stream, while a rooster started to greet the morning as the village awoke. Doors opened and shut, and people could be heard talking as they called out greetings to one another.

As the sun crested the tops of the trees, Avad and Gorim, the two gnome archers, walked up and said they were their relief and to head back to the barn. As soon as they started to walk away the low growl started again, directly behind them in the treeline, and either closer or louder than before.

Tommy froze and spun, “There it is again!”

Everyone turned and looked to where he was pointing. They fell into silence. Nothing was there.

“The growl?” Avad asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy said as he continued pointing into the woodline. “Right there, louder than before.”

Everyone watched for a time but nothing happened. As the sound slowly stopped, Tommy took a moment to look around and caught what he thought was something moving in the treeline further west.

“The sound stopped, but I swore I just saw something move over there.” They all looked to where he pointed, but there was nothing there either.

“I think we need to get some sleep,” Nalin said tiredly. “I can’t see whatever it is you saw, and it’s probably like last night. You can hear it, and we don’t. Come on, let’s go.” he said, leading the way back to the barn.

Tommy told Mikus about the final growl and the glimpse of whatever he’d seen as they reported in.

His da’ walked up at the end of his report. “Growls?”

“Aye. Tommy an’ tha’ sprites be hearin’ growlin’ tha’ no one else be hearin’ except fer’ them,” Mikus said, fighting a yawn. “Don’ know wha’ it be bein’, but I be thinkin’ they be watchin’ our patrols. We may have ta’ be changin’ tha’ rotation some.”

“Okay, let's talk about it before you get some sleep. Tommy, you’re in the inn. Head back to the room and stay with Ari and Saress if anything happens. We’ll do some practice this afternoon if nothing else is going on. Get some sleep.”

“Aye, Da’,” he said tiredly, went back to his room, and promptly fell asleep.

The Next Day

“Time to wake up, Tommy,” someone was saying as they brushed his hair away from his face.

Tommy opened his eyes to see Ari with a soft look on her face above him, then started blinking, trying to work some moisture into his dry eyes. Ari sat back, keeping a hand on him as she watched him wake, and seemed to be studying him while he did.

After he had stretched and yawned, she said, “You’ve slept like the dead. Your father asked that you be woken up by now if you hadn’t already done so. He wants to teach you something this afternoon.”

Tommy was nodding as he sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. He felt ... ‘foggy’ … was the best way to describe it. “I’m still tired,” he mumbled, rubbing his knees.

“That’s from staying up all night. We’ll get some tea into you. Taylin makes some that clears your head.”

Tommy grunted while rubbing his temples. “You didn’t have to wake me up, Saress could have done it,” he mumbled with another yawn.

“I wanted to,” she replied, looking away. Tommy picked up on whatever he said wasn’t the right thing. He stood and stretched, cracking his back. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.” Ari rose and left.

What did I do? Tommy wondered as he blearily staggered around the room, trying to find his shirt. He eventually found it neatly folded on the chair, along with his shield, spear, and other things. He got himself ready, yawning again, and went downstairs.

The common room of the inn was busy. A few children were sitting by the fire playing a game with a ball under the watchful eyes of the village women. And the women were stirring a pot over the fire while chatting away with one another. Two tables near the door were full of Oldsby’s men talking quietly amongst themselves, sharpening their weapons, and oiling their leathers. Some villagers were along the back wall sewing or repairing leather things. Beside them was another table where it looked like people were tearing clothing up into strips, and then taking it to boil in the pot over the fire. Some older men and women used another table to cut vegetables, and they placed them in a basket that another woman collected and took into the kitchen.

Tommy stopped and blinked at the commotion as a family passed him by, heading upstairs with a “Hello.” Then he almost bumped into someone who went and gathered the pile of finished leather items, and left through the door. Eventually he found Ari by the people sewing, talking to some of the villagers there while working on a piece of leather.

He didn’t see Saress anywhere and looked around for her as he sat down. There she is. Leaning in the corner by the bar, she could see the whole room and even outside every time the door opened. She gave him a nod in acknowledgement before returning to her watch.

“Have some tea, Tommy,” Ari said as she pushed the pot and a cup towards him.

Taylin appeared with some bread and cheese, and he thanked both her and Ari as he helped himself. The cheese was good; soft, and salty. The tea was slightly bitter, though, with an herbal flavor, but a few moments after his first sip he started becoming more alert. He still felt strange, but at least the fogginess was going away.

“What’s everyone doing?” he asked, finishing his meal.

“We’re preparing,” Ari answered as she tied off the string she was working with, then cut it with her teeth. “Try this on,” she said, then passed the mass of dark brown leather over to him. It turned out to be a leather jerkin. She watched him for a moment while sipping her tea as he struggled to pull the stiff leather over his head.

“It opens in front, there. See the ties?” She pointed to the leather ties he eventually found on the front of the jerkin. As he got his arms through the half sleeves and settled it onto his shoulders, he noticed something sewn into the breast and stopped to look at it.

“Here. Stand up,” she said, distracting him. Ari rose and came around the table, and helped straighten it out. The jerkin was laced up the sides, which she tightened here and there, making small adjustments, while smoothing the leather over his shoulders.

“That looks good on you,” Donnor said from behind him. Tommy noticed he was also now wearing a jerkin as he turned. “Thank you, Ari, I appreciate it,” he said with a smile.

“You are welcome, Donnor,” she said, giving him a glance as she continued to fuss over Tommy. She eventually stopped and gazed up at Tommy with a strange look. “There.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said.

“Come on, Tommy, grab your gear. I’m going to teach you some spear work over by the barn. He’ll be back for dinner,” he said to Ari, who had walked back to her seat. She continued watching them while Tommy gathered his things and left the inn, smiling almost nervously as Tommy nodded to her as he left.

“Is Ari okay, Da’? She’s acting funny.”

Tommy glanced down the street to the bridge. There was a new chest-high barricade there the guards were standing behind. It looked like it had been made out of a cart, some boards and a few other things nailed to it, with heavy barrels stacked behind. A few men passed in front of the bridge carrying beams towards the mill, obviously off to work on some other project over there.

“She’s worried about you.”

“Oh,” Tommy said as they finished their short walk to the barn.

There had been some noise to the south that Tommy couldn’t make out, and it turned out to be the village men tearing down one of the burnt houses, separating out the still-usable lumber. The other burnt structure was nowhere to be seen, already gone, used for whatever was being done in and around the village.

His da’ followed his gaze. “Jarrod has the villagers tearing down some of the houses to make barricades. We’re starting along the stream and will expand from there if we have time. The people whose houses burnt down weren’t using them anyway, and we have to narrow down where we can be attacked from. We’ve been seeing the ondilaan in the trees for most of the day. They’re watching us.

“Okay, here we are,” Donnor said, yawning as he opened the gate to a fenced-in area beside the barn.

A couple of artocks were munching on piles of dried grass in the shelter at one end. Artocks were big, bulky, hooved animals with six legs, a long tail that was almost as long as they were, and covered in shaggy, gray hair. You could ride them if you wanted to, but that required a special harness fitted around their long, wide heads and a platform on their backs. But since they were so slow and ponderous, they were typically only used to pull heavy wagons with their large, powerful bodies.

They were also raised for their meat in some places, which was soft and delicious. One animal could provide enough meat to satisfy an entire family for a full season if it was carefully preserved. Mr. Silvertongue had told stories that they roamed the Endless Plains in huge herds that stretched almost as far as a person could see. But Tommy had only ever seen the few they had had in their village.

“This is where they turn out some of the animals. Right now the artocks are here, but it’ll work for what we’re going to be doing.” He directed Tommy to lean his spear up against the fence and handed him a shorter staff. “I’m going to teach you simple staff fighting techniques. This may seem strange as to why I’m teaching you a staff when you have a spear, but they both can be used the same way.” He tapped his staff sharply on the fence while watching the artocks.

“Getting them used to the sound,” Donnor explained absently to Tommy’s curious look. All of the artocks raised their heads and watched him as he kept banging away. After realizing he was just making noise, they lowered their heads back down and began eating again, ignoring him.

“Okay, looks like there won’t be any problems. The last thing we need is for them to get stirred up and charge.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s how they defend themselves. They don’t have any natural weapons besides their size, so they charge and try to trample whatever they don’t like. Since they weigh twenty or thirty times what you or I do, it’s pretty effective if you can’t get out of their way. Anyway, let’s begin.”

“The first thing I want you to do is hold the staff in front of you like this.” Donnor demonstrated, holding the staff diagonally in front of him with one hand higher than the other. “All right, now when you grab your spear you have one hand turned up and the other facing the ground. I want you to have both your hands facing the ground for right now. Good. Okay, now bend your knees a little more and we’ll begin.

“From this position, you can strike out with the end of the staff by just punching your hands towards your target one at a time, like this,” Donnor said, demonstrating. “If you want to strike out at someone from your left, you hold the staff still in your right hand and punch out with your left, while letting your left hand slide a little if you need to; so the end of the staff goes where you want it to. If you want to strike out at someone from the right, you do the same thing, just changing which hand holds and which hand slides. Simple enough?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Okay, good. Let’s practice it then.”

He started having Tommy strike out waist-high from the right, then return to the starting position. They did this over and over while his da’ watched and talked him through how to position himself better. It was a little strange how he wanted the part of the staff that wasn’t striking out to snap against his side so solidly, but it certainly did make his strikes harder. They kept at it for a while, then they struck out from the left, repeating the process.

After a while, Donnor moved to stand in front of him, and they practiced facing one another until they reached a point where his da’ was happy with what he was doing. Then, he began adding in how to strike out high and low; having Tommy strike out towards him at head and ankle height, still snapping the back of the staff solidly against his side. They did this for a while longer before they took a break.

The artocks watched them as they trained, seemingly amused by their strange antics, while continuing to contentedly munch away.

“Have something to drink.” Donnor said as he passed him a waterskin. “Next, we’ll be striking out at each other’s staves.”

There was a loud crash behind them as the burnt house the village men had been working on collapsed, accompanied by a sudden onset of ondilaan cackling from the trees. His da’ paused as the cackling began, looking out past the fields and into the trees. The eerie HEHEHE came from every direction, some sounding close by, while others far away. A whooOOP sounded from the south, and a responding whooOOP came from the east. Then the cackling slowed, drifting off into silence as Tommy heard men calling and running from the other side of town.

Keris came trotting into sight from the direction of the shack and entered the barn behind them. Shortly thereafter, Gart and Paden emerged and trotted past, heading to the south.

It was eerily quiet as they trotted away, and after a while longer the normal sounds of the day began once again. His da’ turned back to him, “Guess that’s all the excitement for now. Let’s keep going.”

The artocks had kept eating through the commotion, ignoring it all.

“Stand here in front of me. I want you to strike out from the right. I’m going to do the same, and our staves should hit each other directly in front of us. We’re going to do this for a while. The point is to hit hard, but to stop the staff in front of you without letting it keep going; you’re not swinging a club. Ready?” he asked. Then he moved Tommy closer in front of him and had him strike out.

Tommy was a little uncomfortable standing so close to his da’, worrying he’d hit him, but struck out gamely enough. Their staves struck each other with a loud CLACK, and Tommy felt like his staff struck a boulder.

“Good. Let's try again.”

They repeated their strikes, and his da’ wasn’t kidding when he said they’d do this for a while. He had him strike out from the right, the left, both directions high, and both directions low, all the while blocking Tommy’s strikes. It certainly wasn’t the dizzying whirlwind of strikes Tommy had seen his da’ perform during the duel, but after a while they did pick up some speed.

It actually became kind of fun as Tommy realized there was no way he could ever hit his da’, so he allowed himself to hit harder and harder, until finally he was using most of his strength. The repetitive clacking of their staves striking against each other echoed back to them from the wall of the barn in time with their strikes.

“Take a break,” Donnor said, after they both were covered in sweat. “You did good.” He passed over the waterskin, saying, “Remember to keep your balance spread between your feet. You want to keep leaning forward when you strike, and that’d let someone hit you in the head pretty easily. Besides that, you did well. After a while, I’ll teach you some other ways to hold the staff. Then some other things you can do with it, but this will do for now. Have a seat for a minute and take a break while I explain some of the finer details to you.”

They sat down by the artocks in the shade of their shelter and leaned against the piles of grass. This drew suspicious looks from the artocks, but they quickly returned to ignoring them once they realized the two men weren’t going to steal their food.

Donnor went on to explain how the staff could be used to strike out, and if it was blocked, the force of the block could be used to drive the other end of the staff to strike out quickly in return. He explained how the position of your feet helped with this. And if you kept your balance evenly spread, you could quickly spring out with the strength of your legs to add to a strike. Then, he explained how the same techniques used to fight with a staff could be used with a spear. The main difference being the spearhead on one end, which could also be used to slice and stab.

It was an enjoyable lecture that Tommy found fascinating as his da’ obviously knew what he was talking about. And, he hadn’t spent so much time alone with his da’ in days. He realized he was having fun, and they both started joking with each other while they sat. After they’d both dried out from their exertions, his da’ walked him back to the inn.

It was dinner time, and the smell of the evening meal was welcome. They sat and ate, Tommy finding out that the villagers were pooling their food together, having communal meals at the inn to make their supplies last longer. Donnor explained it was to help ration their meat since they couldn’t hunt with the ondilaan in the woods.

After a bit, Ari came downstairs with Sergeant Moran, both being followed by Saress. They gathered some stew for themselves, joining Tommy and Donnor at their table.

“She’s finally letting me eat,” Moran complained, with a mock glare thrown towards Ari as he sat.

“How are you feeling?” Donnor asked, while Ari returned an amused look to the sergeant.

“Better. I only have a little bit of a cut left, and it stopped draining this morning,” he said as he hungrily took a bite of stew, sighing in apparent bliss after his first swallow.

“The healing is almost complete, Donnor,” Ari said with laughter in her voice, watching Moran eat. “There is some infection remaining, but the wound is all but closed. Dap came by this morning and confirmed he could eat this evening if he continued to improve, and made it downstairs on his own. He’s still weak,” which drew a glare from Moran, “which he won’t admit, but he should be able to be up and about tomorrow.”

Moran sighed. “I don’t like it, but she’s right. I was watching you two practice from my window. I wish I could’ve joined in, but there’s no way. Those stairs are hard.” He took another bite, scraping the bottom of his bowl. He looked down in surprise, then looked longingly towards the kitchen.

“Why don’t I go ask Taylin for some more for you, Sergeant?” Ari said, which drew a comical look of thanks from him as she rose and walked away. Even Saress smiled at his expression as she moved to take up her station by the bar where she had been that morning.

“What’s going on out there?” Moran asked, pointing his spoon towards the door.

“The ondilaan are building up their nerve,” Donnor said, glancing out the door. “We’ve got your and Oldsby’s men covering the east and the tannery, while we cover the north, west, and the other parts of the south. Your men are better equipped than we are, so we’re using your people as a reserve to counter an attack. Right now, your people are here, the mill, and the tannery. We’ve got a drying shack, the barn, a house, and the blacksmith’s place on the southern end.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Right now, nothing.” Which got a frown from Moran.

Taylin walked up with Ari and sat another bowl of stew down in front of Moran with a protective look, as she sat down close beside him. He thanked her and started eating.

“You need to heal before you can fight,” Donnor continued. “If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, Oldsby could probably use your help taking over command at one of his stations. But that’s up to our healers, here.”

“You are not strong enough to fight, Garret!” Taylin exclaimed. “You need to rest!”

“But they need me,” Sergeant Moran said, almost whining. Ari smiled, covering her mouth quickly with her hand.

“I won’t hear it! You will rest and get better if I have to sit on you to make sure you do it!”

Tommy wasn’t sure, but Taylin was using the same tone his mum did when Da’ did something she didn’t like. He watched the two of them back and forth, fire almost striking Moran from Taylin’s glare. Moran seemed to wilt under her angry gaze and went back to eating, casting a wary glance her way from time to time. With a final “Humph,” Taylin turned back to the table, glaring at his da’.

Donnor raised his hands defensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

Moran sighed in defeat. Taylin turned and watched Moran eat hawkishly, inspecting every bite that entered his mouth.

“Come on, Tommy, we still have our practice to do,” Ari said, utterly failing to hide her amusement at Taylin’s antics as she rose from the table. Tommy carried his bowl over to the bar, then followed her upstairs to their room. Saress had apparently followed them and she closed the door behind them while they settled themselves on the floor.

“Same as before, Tommy,” Ari began. “Take my hand while I form my mage globe and feel how I do it. Then if you have no questions, it will be your turn. Ready?”

Practice with Ari was much different than with his da’, but just as comfortable. He watched again as she formed her globe. This time he caught the strand that was feeding the globe without much trouble, concentrating as he was on finding it. After nodding he understood, he set himself to try.

It was easier this time to call his Tol to one place, but he still ran into problems whenever he tried to form a bubble with it. They talked while he tried, and took a break every now and again as he got frustrated. She was a patient teacher, answering every question he had, and pointed out things he didn’t even think to consider.

He was definitely making better progress than yesterday. Able this time to form tiny half-droplets of Tol, but he was never able to make a full bubble. After hours of trying, it was eventually time to quit. And after thanking Ari, he gathered his things and left the inn for the barn.

Chaos in the Night

As it had been the night before, the calls of the ondilaan could be heard as soon as Tommy left the inn.

I wonder what they mean.

Tommy listened to the varying calls as he walked through the darkness towards the barn. There were some long low Ooooo sounds coming from the east, which were new, along with the almost typical nightly sounds of intermittent cackling from all around. A loud, lone whooOOP sounded from the south as he entered the barn.

Nalin and Dorn were finishing putting on their gear as he entered, both having new jerkins as well.

“Nice flower,” Nalin said.

Tommy looked at him, confused, before Nalin pointed at his chest. He remembered seeing something sewn on his jerkin, so he pulled it a little bit away from himself for a look. It was a flower centered over a spear embroidered with light brown thread and hard to see unless you were close.

“Huh.”

Mikus distracted him from studying it, telling them they had the same duty as last night and to go relieve the men there. After they finished collecting their gear, they walked back out into the sounds of random ondilaan calls and headed up to the shack. As they passed the barn, Tommy heard the low growl. He mentioned it to the others, but they didn’t stop walking as they looked towards where Tommy was pointing.

Talius and Hartok were again the men they relieved and they mentioned that the ondilaan had been getting louder since night fell, but not much else had changed. Something new tonight was that they’d seen a few of them in the woodline a little to the west around sunset, and they pointed out where they’d last seen them before leaving. Tommy, Nalin, and Dorn stood there studying the fields before sharing a look amongst themselves and splitting up the watch.

Tommy was first to be left in the shack, and as Nalin and Dorn walked away, he couldn’t help but be a little more nervous being left alone. A low growl started, followed by a few grunts and cackles from the forest in front of him, but there was nothing there to be seen. There were few clouds tonight, and the fields were lit by the light of the stars enough that Tommy could see quite easily into the treeline. A breeze picked up and carried the field’s clean scent, but underlying it all was the sour odor of the ondilaan, keeping his nerves on edge.

As Nalin and Dorn passed behind him heading the other way, he saw his first ondilaan of the night. Something moved drawing his attention to his left, and he saw an ondilaani warrior standing next to a tree on the edge of the wood. It was large, and carried a double-bladed axe. He watched the ondilaan gazing out over the fields towards the village, cocking its head left and right as if it was listening for something.

Another movement revealed a second warrior to his right doing the same thing. This one was carrying a blade of some kind, like a long cleaver. It was absently flexing it in its hand while it looked out over the fields. After a moment, both warriors stepped back into the woodline, and a low grunt followed by some cackling could be heard.

A slow Ooooo sounded from the woods in front of Tommy that carried well into the night, receiving a whooOOP from somewhere behind him on the other side of the village. Nalin and Dorn returned and Tommy told them about what he’d seen. They talked about it and decided Nalin should report it, so he trotted off back to the barn. The cackling started again to their east beyond the stream as Nalin left, almost as if he’d caused it.

The noise made Nalin move faster.

“They’re talking to each other,” Dorn said, obviously nervous.

“What are they saying?”

“I have no idea. They raided our village a few years back. Stood outside in the open, hooted and hollered, and were chased off by the Redtail Guard after they stole some pigs. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this before,” he trailed off, nervously looking around.

Another warrior stepped into sight in front of them, still within the treeline. This one was different; smaller, with a spear or a long staff. But besides knowing it was somehow different, that was all Tommy could tell in the dark. He got Dorn’s attention and pointed him towards it, but Dorn couldn’t see. Just some movement in the darkness where Tommy was pointing was all he could discern. This smaller figure looked out and listened as the other two had done, before it too stepped back and disappeared.

After a bit, Nalin trotted back, nervously eying the fields. “Everyone’s been seeing the ondilaan in the woods, not just us. We’re supposed to keep doing what we did last night, and only send a runner if there’s something new, or they enter the fields.”

“I guess we walk,” Tommy said, returning to watching the treeline.

“I guess so,” Dorn mumbled, also looking out. “Tommy here can see into the tree line, I can’t. The moons will be up in a couple of hours, hopefully that’ll help. But, until then, I think he should stay here. He can call out if he sees anything.”

Tommy shrugged, and Dorn and Nalin restarted their patrol.

There was certainly more going on tonight. Tommy could hear many different calls all around the village. There were the whooOOPs and the cackling HEHEHEs, some Oooo’s mixed in with grunts, and some low repetitive grunts that sounded like deep laughter barely on the edge of his hearing.

Periodically he heard the almost imperceptible growls from the night before, and they added a sinister edge, undercutting the other calls. Tommy noticed there was usually a pause after one of these low growls, and he started to tell there were differences between them. Mainly, they sounded as if they came from different throats, some being higher or lower pitched than the others.

Hours passed as Dorn and Nalin continued their patrol. They’d run into the western patrol and stopped to talk with them. The other patrol said they’d seen a large group clustered together along the western trail, well out of bowshot. But they were too far away to tell what they were doing besides just standing there.

A while later, Mikus walked up. He’d found a logging axe from somewhere and it had taken the place of his spear. “Anythin’ be goin’ on?” he asked quietly, stopping to lean on the axe.

“No, Mikus,” Dorn replied for all of them as they continued listening to the varying calls of the ondilaan.

Mikus grunted. “We be seein’ a bunch o’ them ta’ tha’ west an’ south. They had a group o’ them that tha’ archers seen on tha’ western path. But they be too far away ta’ shoot, an’ I don’ be wantin’ ta’ leave tha’ village ta’ hunt them down.

“There be another group in tha’ woods ta’ tha’ south, on our side o’ tha’ stream, tha’ been standin’ there fer’ about an hour. I think they be lettin’ us be seein’ them a purpose, but I don’ be knowin’ why. I think they be thinkin’ o’ attackin’. But I be worryin’ they be tryin’ somethin’ sneaky, an attack where we don’ be seein’ ‘em. That’d be here. Keep an eye out fer’ anythin’ strange.”

“I saw a short one a couple of hours ago. It had a spear, I think,” Tommy said.

“Ach, I don’ be carin’ who be tall or short. At least I don’ be havin’ ta’ reach up ta’ tha’ one,” he laughed. Nalin chuckled as well as they stood and watched for a while, Mikus gazing intently into the treeline.

“I be leavin ya’. There be a lot more goin’ on, on the other side. Oldsby be awake in the mill, so yer’ not alone up here if ye be needin’ somethin’. Stay alert, an’ continue yer’ patrol,” he ordered as he turned and strode back into the village.

A faint low growl sounded as he walked away, causing Tommy’s nerves to worsen. “The growl’s back.” But no matter where he looked, nothing was there. They stood in silence listening to the calls for a while before Dorn motioned to Nalin, and they started another patrol.

I hate this, Tommy thought as movement drew his eye. He saw the short warrior appear again, this time almost directly north of the mill. He watched the ondilaan stand there while it inspected the mill for long moments, before it disappeared again, backing its way into the trees.

Time passed. The moons rose, lighting the fields to the relief of Nalin and Dorn who could now see clearly about halfway to the treeline. Beyond that, it was hard for them to see anything, and they depended on Tommy to tell them what was out there. They were at least able to pick out ondilaan in the treeline when Tommy pointed them out. Both seemed to take comfort in being able to see a figure with their own eyes, instead of just depending on Tommy to tell them about it.

After a while longer, there were two quick whooOOPs to the south, and a sudden silence fell. Not a single noise sounded from all around, not even a bug, and an eerie intensity seemed to infect the night. Tommy could hear his heartbeat as Nalin and Dorn trotted back to the shack, their eyes wide with fear.

“What’s going on,” Nalin whispered sharply, looking out into the night.

“I don’t know, nothing’s out there,” Tommy replied as they gazed intently all around.

There was nothing, just the whispering noise of a slight breeze through the fields. Something was building, Tommy could feel it pressing against his senses, but there was nothing he could see. The pregnant silence infected them.

He started to sweat.

A sudden chorus of yips from multiple throats evolved into a symphony of cackling laughter to the east. Along with it came a multitude of short, sharp whooOOPs accompanied by many loud grunts from all around. A chaotic union of the various calls formed, and over the top of it all was a strange whooshing sound that sent a shock of fear through them.

There was a loud bellow within the mill as the door banged open, and conscripts started dashing south towards the bridge. Multiple twangs could be heard coming from the mill as the archers started shooting at something on the other side Tommy couldn’t see.

A loud shout of, “READY! … BRACE!” sounded from somewhere in the village, followed by a tremendous crash, then a cacophony of growls and screams. The horrible sounds echoed throughout the night.

Tommy’s heart pounded with fear, as anxiety clenched his chest in its fist. Nalin was looking back towards the village taking great breaths. Dorn watched the mill where the sounds of the archers were coming from, white-knuckled on his spear.

The bang of another door being slammed open came from the barn, accompanied by the sounds of running feet, and Mikus bellowing, urging the others on. A moment after that, another loud whooOOP sounded from the south, accompanied by more yips and cackling from a legion of throats.

Nalin spun around, now facing south, panting in fear as he gripped his spear.

There were yells and shouts of confusion from the running feet in the village. And after a few more bellowing commands, the sounds of their feet moved away. Then, a few heartbeats after that, another distant crash could be heard accompanied by even more growls and screams, adding to the already chaotic sounds of the night.

A sudden motion drew Tommy’s gaze back to the treeline as the short ondilaan appeared once more. “There!” he whispered sharply, drawing Nalin and Dorn’s attention to the figure with his pointing hand. The figure turned and seemed to stare straight at him. He could see its ears questing as it searched for him in the darkness. It can’t see us, Tommy realized, as all three of them were in shadow, under cover of the shack.

More bowshots twanged out suddenly from the barn as the archers there started shooting at something out of sight, accompanied by a high yip of pain as one of them hit. The three of them watched the lone ondilaan in the treeline as the growls and screams continued to increase, along with the rate of fire from the mill.

Dorn was breathing quickly now as the sounds of fighting echoed about. A loud gurgling scream from somewhere near the bridge seemed to invigorate the ondilaan, their yips and cackling increasing in both volume and intensity. The sounds of the battle surrounding them on three sides was offset by the unnerving emptiness in front of them, only filled by that one, lone, ondilaan.

Then the sound that haunted his memories pierced the night. The piercing, hawk-like sound of ondilaani arrows could be heard somewhere to the south. As Tommy turned to look, streaks of fire like small meteors arced out of the sky towards the village, landing amongst the houses out of sight.

Calls of “FIRE!” could be heard as the flaming arrows landed amongst the village. There were more screams as the shouts of “FIRE!” spread, then even more doors slammed, accompanied by many feet running to-and-fro.

Motion drew his gaze back to the fields once more and what Tommy had dreaded most was happening. Ondilaan were running into the fields.

“They’re coming!” he yelled as the ondilaan charged from the treeline, snarling and cackling as they came. “They’re coming!” Tommy yelled again.

Dorn raised his voice and yelled, “TO THE NORTH!” in a commanding tone, piercing the night.

Arrow shots were twanging out towards these new ondilaan as the archers in the mill started shooting. One or two of the archers hit, and when they did, that ondilaan stumbled and fell. But the rest kept coming.

“READY!” Tommy yelled, his voice unnaturally high, the enemy only a bowshot away.

The cackling growls of the charging ondilaan seemed to hit him in the chest and beat against him, demanding Tommy’s submission. His vision narrowed to only the ones in front of him as the sounds around him dimmed. He realized he was yelling, screaming, accompanied by the high voices of Nalin and Dorn shouting their defiance into the night.

An ondilaan fell a stone’s throw away, then another as Tommy screamed “BRACE!” and readied himself to accept their snarling charge. Just before they hit, he noticed an ondilaan shockingly pierced through the eye by an arrow, falling and tripping the one beside it, but then they were on him.

A huge impact shook the three defenders as the ondilaan tried to kill them. All three were screaming as they stabbed out again and again after the first thundering impact. Nalin’s spear was dragged out of his hands by the falling body of the warrior he’d pierced. He grabbed desperately for his knife while an ondilaan lashed out at him with a sword. Dorn was stabbing over him as another arrow struck an ondilaan, killing it instantly.

Tommy caught sight of a warrior trying to claw its way to him on the ground, something wrong with its leg. A dead warrior ricocheted off his shield while he stabbed out repeatedly at Nalin’s attacker, who was beating him down to the ground with heavy blows to Nalin’s shield.

More arrows whooshed by his head, barely missing him as he struck out with his spear, like his da’ had taught him, to block a strike against Dorn. Dorn used that moment to stab another warrior, taking it unawares, but screamed when his extended arm was suddenly all but cleaved through by an axe. Dropping his spear and shrieking in agony, he fell. But his attacker didn’t live to celebrate its victory as another arrow pierced its throat, its fall accompanied by a ululating cry.

Saress appeared from behind Tommy and seemed to throw herself into the ondilaan with reckless abandon. She wove a whirlwind of death with her two blades, seeming to lash out at everything within reach and another ondilaan fell, accompanied by her ululating cry.

The shock of her appearance allowed Tommy to strike out at another warrior, taking it in the thigh, causing it to fall. Nalin appeared with his long knife and jumped on the wounded creature, stabbing it repeatedly in the chest and screaming incoherently.

Tommy advanced to help Saress as the ondilaan turned their attention to her, aware there was a predator in their midst. Her cat-like eyes caught a bright light building from somewhere behind them as she turned and spun, her blades dancing all around. Tommy caught one warrior in the back as it dodged her strike, and she used the fall of that warrior to strike out at another, neatly removing its hand. Another warrior struck out at her from behind, and Tommy spun his spear blocking the strike, but it caused him to stumble. He fell to his knees, barely missing being struck in the head by something that whistled by as the glow behind them lit the night like the rising sun.

Ondilaani warriors were running past them towards the village center as a colossal, basso explosion of sound erupted across the night, causing his ears to deaden and ring. The muted sounds of fighting continued as he struggled to his feet and almost stepped on Dorn who was rolling on the ground, screaming, holding onto his arm which was barely attached to his body, spurting blood all around.

Nalin struck out, stabbing another ondilaan in the leg as a muffled WHOOOOOP sounded from somewhere nearby. The ondilaan paused in their assault, then after another call, they started running back towards the trees.

Saress caught one who tried to escape her by neatly hamstringing it as it turned, then Tommy stabbed it through the back as it fell. Dorn’s cries cleared into a sobbing, pain-filled babbling as Tommy’s hearing started to return. He knelt by Dorn as Saress quickly looked around at the retreating ondilaan, before sprinting to her bow lying on the ground. She picked it up, releasing one rapid shot after another at the retreating ondilaan, killing two more before they escaped back into the woodline and could no longer be seen.

The glow of a fire lit the village from behind as Tommy panted for breath, ready and waiting for another attack, while a high-pitched ringing filled his ears. Saress turned ever so slowly, her bow drawn, an arrow nocked and ready, seeming to dare anyone else to threaten her and those around her. Nalin started hiccupping as he found his spear and absently put away his knife. Then he stood over Dorn staring off into the fields while Dorn continued screaming, rolling around in agony.

“Wrap his arm! Quickly!” Saress commanded as she continued watching the fields.

Tommy knelt by Dorn’s side and tried to get to his arm, but it took both Nalin and him to hold Dorn down. They tied a tight wrap around his bicep before the spurting blood started to slow.

Two men ran up from the village. “Are you okay here!”

Tommy turned and stared at them with vacant eyes as Saress commanded, “Take that one to the inn. She may be able to save his arm.” Followed shortly by “MOVE!” when the two newcomers paused a moment too long.

Tommy and Nalin stood and flanked her as they dragged Dorn away, who’d mercifully passed out when the conscripts grabbed him. The three gazed out into the silence as a faint, imperceptible growl sounded from right in front of them. Saress’s ears perked towards it as Tommy said, “There’s the growl again,” and pointed at it with his spear.

“You hear that?” Saress questioned, while calmly watching the night.

“Yes. Apparently only me and the sprites do, according to Mikus,” Tommy said as his breathing slowed.

“Good,” she said, not explaining at all what was good about it.

A few long minutes passed as the cackling and yips dwindled off into silence. They heard some more calls drifting in from across the stream and further south, but they dwindled off too, until the entire area was encased in an eerie silence. A silence broken only by the sounds of the fire from somewhere behind them, and the shouts coming from around it.

“What was that light?” Tommy whispered after a long moment.

“Nisa Saliantrea commanded a great working. Many are dead.” She eased tension off of the string and lowered her bow. “Both of you, bind your wounds. You will not receive healing until the worst are cared for.”

Nalin looked blankly at her. “What are you talking about?”

She reached out and poked a gash across his spear arm. “Check yourselves. Both of you are wounded, I can smell it. I will watch.”

Tommy discovered he was bleeding from wounds on both arms and legs, along with a shallow slice to the side of his head that encrusted his hair in blood. Nalin had not only the wound that Saress had pointed out, but a deep gash in his thigh and a weeping puncture on his shoulder. Neither of them remembered being struck, and both were surprised by their injuries.

“I’m done. Your turn,” Tommy said as he turned to Saress.

“I am not wounded.”

Tommy reached out and lightly touched a slightly bleeding gash on her right cheek, catching a drop of blood on his finger. It was a glistening black pearl in the night, being lit only by the light of the moon. He wiped away the blood, before taking the time to clear the rest from her face.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, realizing if it wasn’t for her, he’d probably be dead.

“You are welcome, Tomilanthus.” She met his gaze for a quick moment, before returning to watch.

Nalin joined them after finishing wrapping his wounds, and the three stood there watching out into the silence. Eventually the sounds of night returned, accompanied by the sounds of the fire behind them.

They stood there amongst the dead.

Their stunned emotions only bolstered by their survival of the battle they’d shared.

Aftermath

Some interminable time later, another small group of conscripts trotted up. They looked fresh, staring intently at the bodies around them and out into the night.

“Tommy?” one called out.

“Here,” Tommy said, not taking his eyes off the fields.

There had been more of the low growls as they’d stood there, but no other sounds. No more sightings of the ondilaan. It was both a relief and unnerving, all at the same time.

“You are ordered to the inn, the lady commands you to come. Anyone with you is to stay at your side to help as needed. We’re taking over your watch.”

“Aye,” Tommy said, feeling as if an immense weight was being lifted from his shoulders.

He took a minute to describe the low growls and the warriors in the woodline. They asked about the patrol route, and Nalin showed it to them while Tommy took a moment to look back into the village. Flames silhouetted the roof of the inn from something large burning beyond it. And after there were no more questions, Tommy and Nalin turned and walked back into the village with Saress following along behind, almost walking backward as she went.

As they approached the back of the inn, they stepped around a few dead ondilaan pierced by arrows from archers Tommy now noticed on the roof. The archers nodded as they passed around the side of the inn, allowing them to see the source of the flames.

A house was on fire, the red and yellow flickering of its soaring flames brightly lit the area around them. Villagers hurried water from the well in front of the inn and poured it on the ground around the house in an attempt to prevent the fire from spreading. There was no saving the house; it was completely enveloped in flames, the heat beating on them from many yards away. Men were frantically carrying wounded past the fire and through the inn’s open door, and the sounds of suffering increased as Tommy, Nalin, and Saress approached.

Ari’s voice could be heard giving commands as they entered the abattoir the common room had become. Screams and moans were coming from men who were stacked on the tables, broken and disfigured, while being held down by weeping village women who were spattered with blood. Tommy saw one man whose cheek had been severed to the back of his skull, while another still had a sword sticking out of his belly that was oozing blood, slowly dripping on the floor as he cried out.

“Tomilanthus, to me!” Ari’s voice sounded a clarion call from across the room. Taylin was beside her, holding a still unconscious Dorn’s arm in place as Tommy rushed to Ari’s side.

“Saress, guard, but do not interfere. Let Donnor know we will both be insensate by the time we are done. Carry us to the room when we fall. We will sleep for a day, maybe more. Tomilanthus, I am going to draw from you again, deeply. I’m sorry. Keep a hand on me and do not let go. Do not let go or people will die!” she ordered as her Tol surged around him.

It was hard to say what was worse, the battle or the aftermath, but both were terrible. Ari drew from his Tol in a demanding torrent that added magical exhaustion to his already physical state, leaving him utterly bereft of energy. People were paraded in front of them in a seemingly endless stream of blood and suffering as they worked to do what they could.

Where Ari had looked to completely heal Moran by battling the infection corrupting him, these she attacked differently. She seemed to seek only to stabilize the worst of their injuries before waving for the next to be brought before her. Her Tol thrust into one and all, ignoring any thought of being gentle as she inspected and judged where best to use her skill. Any that were not in immediate threat of death were passed over for someone who was.

The night continued on into morning as Tommy became aware that light was streaming in from the windows, but the wounded kept coming. The blood and bodies blurred into a wavering vision of pain and misery without end. Eventually, the fugue he had fallen into lifted enough to realize nothing was left before them, and hadn’t been for some time.

He paused in confusion, waiting for the next drain to come. Pushed gently into sitting on a bench or chair, he couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter, he awaited the next patient. He kept his hand clutched to Ari’s shoulder as she’d commanded him, and that was the only thought consciously moving through his mind.

Do not let go, or people will die, repeated in a desperate mantra devoid of self.

Saress’s face appeared before him, then disappeared. Someone spoke nearby, then another, then his da’ appeared and left, his father’s figure strangely bright to his eyes. Something was moved to his lips, and he was prompted to sip something bitter and strong. He could hear Ari mumbling beside him as he drank, but in his exhaustion, he refused to look.

He concentrated on just holding on.

Do not let go, or people will die.

Saress appeared and disappeared again as he was once more prompted to sip the bitter brew. Then suddenly someone grabbed his hand that was gripping Ari and tried to remove it. He desperately fought to keep his hand in place, struggling against them, but whoever was handling him was too strong.

They forced him to let go.

I cannot let go, or people will die.

Tears streamed from his eyes as his Tol snapped back into him in a painful slap that reverberated around inside of him in waves of echoing pain. The shock of its return tried to steal his consciousness away from him, but he refused to fall.

I have to help heal the men. People will die.

He heard someone shout beside him but didn’t care, overwhelmed by the burning fury of agony he was experiencing. He refused to give in to the pain, and his refusal caused something to stir from deep within. That something surged upward in defiance against his separation from Arisaylia, and gathered the last few bits of his Tol together, despite his exhaustion. He heard a low ringing inside of him, rising slowly in power and volume as it neared crescendo, while the pain transcended beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

Then suddenly something struck his face, and everything went black.

***

Saress looked down at Tomilanthus in wonder as she pulled back the fist she’d used to knock him out. She’d felt the building mage strike and wondered how he could possibly generate enough Tol to even form one, let alone the wonder of him not knowing how to create one in the first place.

This boy is gifted beyond wonder.

She considered Tommy in amazement as she caught his fall, gently lowering his head to the table. Ari was beside him, already unconscious, having passed out when she’d seen Saress’s face, trusting the J’al’osil to get her to safety.

Donnor looked at Saress but didn’t say a word after watching her punch Tommy in the head. It had taken both of them to pry his son’s hand off Ari, and he raised an eyebrow at her in question. Saress caught it and nodded to the stairs.

“Upstairs. In the room. I will explain.”

He nodded and called for two men to help. They carried Ari and Tommy upstairs to their room and laid them on the cots before departing. Calls for more help with the fire could be heard as Saress shut the door after checking the hallway.

Donnor was sitting between them with his hands on them both, obviously struggling with who to comfort first. His heart was in his eyes, and it was painful for Saress to see as she watched him look from one to the other. He leaned down to kiss Arisaylia softly on her brow, gently brushing her hair away from her face with his fingers. Then he turned and looked down at his son, clutching his shoulder tightly. Clenching his jaw, he squeezed Tommy’s shoulder as a tear formed in his eye. Saress studied him, watching the tear slowly track down his cheek.

“What happened?” he strangled out.

“She was already tired from her strike before the healing began. She needed his strength and brought them both to their limit. Maybe beyond. They will recover, though slowly and with pain as you saw before.”

Pausing to gain his attention, Saress met his eyes. “Tomilanthus was forming a mage strike in the end. He had to be knocked out before it struck.”

Donnor nodded, looking back at Ari and his son, seeming familiar with the term which shouldn’t have surprised Saress as much as it did. He watched them both, swallowing many times, holding back strong emotion as the calls for help repeated through the shuttered window.

“I have to go,” he said roughly. “There is no one else in command. Will you guard them?”

The poignant weight of his question struck her. “Yes, Donnor,” she replied in elvish.

“Do not leave them,” he growled out. “It is your only duty. There will be no other. None will challenge it!” Donnor declared fiercely.

“Yes, Strike Leader,” she replied, straightening at the intensity of his words.

He closed his eyes taking a long breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose as he rose. He visibly collected himself, then opened his eyes walking towards her. Then he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it, and met her eyes.

“Thank you, Saress,” he said simply, and left, never bothering to wipe away his tears.

Saress watched him go, Donnor never once turning around. Then she turned away and shut the door behind him. She placed a chair to block the door as best she could and pulled her blades, setting them beside her. Her bow went against the wall by her right hand, and she placed the remainder of the potion on the table. Hopefully, they’d have a chance to get more of the herbs needed for the stimulant she’d given them both, but it didn’t matter right now.

As she settled into place between them preparing for a long watch, she caught herself hoping Donnor would be well. All the while analyzing the conflicting pull between her emotions and her orders.

***

Mikus was on the southern edge of the village watching the fields in the morning light. They’d eventually become confident the house burning behind him wouldn’t spread to any of the others, and that had been a tremendous relief. The smithy was a total loss though, and they were waiting for its remains to cool enough to salvage what they could. The anvil could still be seen glowing slightly red from the heat, even in the morning light.

The attack had gone well for the ondilaan.

Tha’ bastards.

They’d hit the bridge first with a force easily three times the guard there. As Oldsby rapidly reinforced the men at the bridge from the mill, Mikus was hurrying the men he’d woken up to help. They’d been running from the barn when the bastards attacked again, charging from the south as well.

In the confusion of the second attack, he’d had to stop his charging men, then send them quickly south. They’d barely stopped the ondilaan before they got past the smithy and into the village center. The battle near the smithy had been a chaotic mess, and he remembered many falling beneath his axe while frantically calling orders to his men.

Then Arisaylia did whatever she had done.

He’d never seen anything like it before and was sure no one would believe him if he ever told the story again. As he’d downed his most recent warrior and cleared his axe, he noticed another wave coming as flaming arrows flew over his head. He’d thought another building behind them was going up in flames as the light got brighter and brighter, but then a tremendous explosion of sound hit him.

Multiple streamers of golden light flew like arrows, striking the ondilaan indiscriminately wherever they went. Not once did a single one strike any of his men, sometimes curving around them to hit the ondilaan they were fighting.

It was their salvation.

Almost every ondilaan in sight suddenly fell dead or dying, with some of the men left standing amidst their falling bodies, blinking in stunned disbelief. The onrushing ondilaan not yet in the fight skidded to a stop, panicking as their brethren fell as one. Then the ondilaani warriors let out a chaotic mess of yips, growls, and rapid lows that were terrified and terrifying, all at the same time. A loud, commanding WHOOOOOP sounded shortly thereafter, and they all began to retreat.

He remembered standing there panting in confusion while watching the ondilaan run, not understanding why they fled. But he didn’t spurn their luck as he commanded those around him back into some semblance of a formation, bracing to receive another attack.

An attack that never came.

He heard the villagers behind him frantically trying to prevent the burning house from spreading to the rest of the village, but he couldn’t take the chance to drop his guard to help. Many long minutes passed before the calls of the ondilaan stopped altogether, and all that could be heard was the sounds of the village itself.

It was then that the screams of the wounded and dying pierced his mind, and he ordered them carried to the inn as quickly as they could. Around sunrise, he learned that Ari and Tommy were healing the wounded, sparing most from dying outright, though many would bear the marks of this attack for a long time to come. He’d sent a runner to find Oldsby at some point and found out that he was among the wounded, having been saved by Donnor at the bridge.

Donnor stopped by after sunrise and let him know the conscripts at the tannery had become his to command; apparently because he happened to be the only one with any command experience in the south. After Donnor and he had discussed it, he set half the men to sleep at their posts while the other half continued their watch. Some of the men just collapsed in exhaustion where they were, and he let them sleep, even the one who was sleeping standing up.

Keris came by at some point with some villagers who were passing out food. Keris passed on that Donnor was in command while Moran had moved to the mill to take control of the eastern side, since Oldsby was with the healers. The inn was overflowing with wounded which was why they’d brought the food out, but most had lived through the night thanks to Arisaylia and Tommy.

Keris said he'd been at the bridge when Ari did whatever it was she’d done. He still looked stunned remembering it, unable to coherently put into words what he’d witnessed. Mikus knew the few mystics from his clanhold could strike one or maybe two at a time, but rarely more than that. What Arisaylia had done defied explanation.

Battle magic, it has to be.

His clan had always wondered if the elves retained its knowledge based on whisperings of ancient scrolls and rites. The magics were holdovers from the ancient war, thought lost to rumor and myth, and the prospectors of Khagatom were to delve for them. He’d considered the rumors idiocy, ridiculous paranoia of the masters of the clan. But to see it confirmed before his eyes shook him.

Whatever it be, it saved our arses.

Mikus shook his head as he looked around. Someone had apparently ordered the villagers to start collecting the ondilaan corpses, and they were separating them from their weapons and armor before stacking them in huge piles.

The men watched, still on edge. The ones who were awake were quietly talking amongst themselves as they glanced around, nervously reassuring themselves that they weren’t alone. They were shaken and scared, but at least they weren’t dead.

Not dead, Mikus repeated firmly to himself as he tiredly rose to his feet. Time to make the rounds.

The men needed cheered up, reassured, and their confidence built up. They needed to be told it was a great victory they’d witnessed here. They needed the lies, they all did.

Otherwise, they’d weep.

***

Keris walked with the villagers carrying the food to the men at the bridge.

The barriers they’d erected that bordered the stream between the bridge and the mill were still standing, and the barriers were probably the only thing that had prevented the bridge from being completely overrun. The people on duty there were new, not the ones who’d borne the attack last night. Those lucky few were either dead, wounded, or passed out asleep in the mill as ordered by Moran. Moran was trying to piece together the remaining men he had into some semblance of a coherent force.

And after last night, there weren’t many left.

Keris had been in the inn when the first attack came in, and had rushed with Donnor to the bridge after hearing Oldsby cry “READY” and “BRACE” to his men. Unfortunately, they’d arrived just after the ondilaan had completed their charge.

A veritable flood of the enemy had smashed into the barriers that had been erected there. They crushed them, sometimes with their own bodies in their lust to reach the men defending it.

He’d heard men scream as they were dragged down with an ondilaani jaw around their throats. The few remaining men from the initial charge were forced back slowly, steadied by Oldsby’s orders, stiffening their resolve. They’d been pushed past the foot of the bridge as Donnor and he arrived, and the two of them threw themselves into the combat to hold the line. But it was all but hopeless until the rushing men from the mill crashed into their flank, stopping their advance.

Suddenly, the overwhelming attack from the ondilaan was stalled, as they had to turn or be killed indiscriminately by this new threat. Then, as the combat continued, the men were reinforced in small groups by people rushing from the inn who’d been asleep when the attack had begun.

He’d watched Gart bowl one of the ondilaan right off its feet as he entered the fight, screaming all the way, and he’d thought the battle was turning. But a short time after the men from the inn started arriving, there’d been a loud whooOOP to the south, piercing the night, causing his stomach to sink with dread.

He’d glanced that way, seeing another mass of enemy charging across the fields past the tannery. Then the men from the troop running from the barn skidded to a halt, being screamed at by Mikus to turn and hit the oncoming force.

Oldsby took a sword thrust to his chest as Keris returned his attention to the fight, screaming as he went down under the feet of the ondilaan. A triumphant cry went up from the enemy with Oldsby’s defeat. But Donnor saw it, and to all appearances went berserk.

Keris had never seen anyone do what he did.

Donnor leapt into the middle of the onrushing throng and lashed out everywhere with his spear in a dizzying display of deadly skill. Wherever he struck, an enemy either fell or stumbled as he fought his way to stand over Oldsby and refused to be moved. Someone dove between his legs to grab the wounded sergeant, dragging him back towards safety while Donnor twisted and spun in a dance of death that was beautiful and terrible to behold. There was no silver trail to his spear, but Keris watched the stories his father had sworn him to secrecy about come to life before him, as the warrior became a storm of vengeance that slaughtered any who opposed him.

Then, as the enemy kept coming, and started to press Donnor sorely with sheer numbers, a piercing cry came from behind. He had no chance to look and see whatever this new terror was as he was now covering Donnor’s right, or maybe Donnor was covering his left, he hadn’t been able to tell. But as he was slammed backward after taking a brutal strike on his shield, there was a deafening explosion.

Blinding spots of light swarmed from behind him in a brilliant river of radiance that struck at the ondilaan, slaughtering them all. He stood in wonder as the last ondilaan fell, purple afterimages staining his vision. He turned in shock, seeing Arisaylia standing behind them surrounded by a visible aura of green and gold light, illuminating the street.

Her hair floated on an invisible wind as she stared with terrifyingly glowing eyes towards the group at the bridge. She called out something in a foreign tongue that Donnor responded to with a grunt. Then after stepping out of the men where he could be clearly seen, the light surrounding her winked out, and she staggered to her side, catching herself on the door of the inn.

Men and women scattered away from her in fear, but Donnor took command, bellowing orders and getting them moving before any panic could ensue. Keris was sent running to the barn following another enemy cry that split the night, finding the men there had already beaten back an attack from the west. They had killed many with their arrows as the ondilaan charged, and the fields were littered with corpses. No one there was injured, an incredible stroke of luck, and he sent as many as he could to reinforce Mikus to the south.

After leaving them there with orders to hold, he entered the inn to see the calm scene from earlier in the day turned into a slaughterhouse. Wounded were everywhere, and he stopped, stunned into silence, just taking it in as cries of agony called out from all around. He’d been in skirmishes before, but never a battle like this, and the amount of blood from the wounded overwhelmed him. There had to be at least twenty, maybe thirty men in the room in varying states. From those who could walk, to broken men in pieces that were being carried to Ari by the fire.

She was there, her hands surrounded by the same golden glow he’d seen from the bridge, using whatever power she’d been blessed with to heal the men. Tommy was behind her, one hand on her shoulder with his eyes closed. He seemed to shimmer as if surrounded by waves of heat that passed from him to Arisaylia. And close at hand was Saress, who’d apparently set herself to guard them both while they worked. From what, only she knew. But it didn’t matter, no one was going to chance that guardian.

One after another was brought in, and Keris ordered those who were still able to various points around the village. Eventually, Donnor arrived as the sun was rising. He placed his hand on Keris’s shoulder and joined him watching the village women working to do what they could.

“She’ll pass out soon,” he said, watching Ari and Tommy fiercely. “Saress said she’s going to work till they drop. I don’t like it, but I can’t stop her. And every man she saves is one more that can rejoin the fight.”

“You think they’ll come again?”

“Almost certainly. The magic scared them but they were winning, and that was only the first wave. Mikus said the second was charging in behind them before they were called to retreat. And, with half our force down, there’s no way we can repel another attack like that.”

“They can’t possibly know how bad it is in here! They have to be hurt at least as bad as we are. Did you see how many bodies are out there?” Keris asked in disbelief.

“Aye, I did. But we can’t rest our hopes on them going away. We have to plan on another attack, no matter how much we don’t want it,” he said quietly.

He watched a while longer, then seemed to gather himself before turning to face Keris. “We need to reassure the men. Moran is in command of the mill and will take charge of the bridge as well. I need you to take the barn and the northern shack. The men are to sleep at their posts: half awake, half asleep. The troops I’m giving you are in the best shape, so once you get them settled, return here and get food out to all the men. Start at the southern end first. Warm their bellies, feed their egos, do whatever it is you need to do to keep their spirits up. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Commander!”

“Good. I’ll be here if you need me. I’m working with Jarrod Tarr to have the villagers help us out as much as they can. Spread the word. If you see any ondilaan, I want to know about it. Immediately! Understood?”

“Yes, Commander!”

“Good. Get to it.” And with that final command he walked further into the inn.

Keris watched him go before leaving. The villagers were forming a bucket line to carry water to the burning house, the fire sending billowing clouds of black smoke towards the heavens. The last thing he saw before entering the barn was the remainder of the men standing along the southern edge of the fields, looking out towards the woodline.

The men standing there looked lonely and sad. Stationed in defiance between the village, and an enemy they couldn’t see.

The Burden of Command

Donnor was sitting in the inn staring blankly at a bloodstain on the table before him. The last of the wounded had been bandaged and removed hours ago, and they had been stacked into the rooms of the inn like firewood. Some villagers were doing their best to wipe up the mess around him, but it would take many more cleanings before the signs of what had happened here could be wiped away.

Midnight had passed hours ago, and he was waiting for Moran to come after sending a runner for him. Jarrod had enlisted some of the older village boys to perform that duty, letting the remaining men rest from the battle they’d fought in the early morning hours, almost a day ago now. Mr. Tarr had been a great help, and whatever rancor the villagers had had for the conscripts, had been erased by the evidence of what the defense of their village had cost them last night.

The price of the villagers' understanding, paid for in blood and corpses.

They’d counted close to eighty dead ondilaan, most from Arisaylia’s magic. The magic she’d used was something she’d shared stories with him about while they were still together in the Vale. But he’d never seen it, and no one else had either. It was elven battle magic, a closely guarded secret, and horribly devastating as they’d all just witnessed. The problem he remembered her saying was that it was exhausting for its casters, requiring mages working in teams, and most teams only able to use it once before having to retreat.

Somehow, she’d cast it on her own.

She must’ve been wrong ... that doesn’t happen very often.

Whatever its limitations, it was terrifyingly effective, and her use of it had probably saved them all.

They’d been about to be overrun, after all.

He looked up at the ceiling where his love and their son were lying under guard. The battle lust had taken over again as he’d rushed to recover Oldsby, and he wondered absently if he’d ever be free of it. As the ondilaan continued to charge in increasing numbers after he leaped forward, he’d wondered if he’d ever see them again. He couldn’t live without them. Not now, and certainly not in this strange place he’d found himself in all those years ago.

Battle was something he’d thought he’d left behind; he’d fought enough of it after all. And he’d gotten good at it, commanding many of the different peoples of this world guarding caravans from the Vale. He could have used that spear last night though, he thought, and wondered when they’d get far enough south to return to Lakeside and recover it.

Lakeside … gods. Yella, where are you? What am I going to do?

There was a noise outside, drawing his attention to the open door. He remembered Arisaylia standing there by the door, her hair floating in the light of her Tol, beautiful and terrible to behold. She’d called out to him, her voice in the cadence of the archaic elvish from the ancient text where they’d found their vows, demanding he respond.

He’d been exhausted, well beyond the battle fatigue he normally experienced. His body fought him, but something inside demanded he answer. All he could manage was a grunt in response, moving into sight so she could see him.

Once she’d laid eyes on him, her working winked out and she all but collapsed. And even though he’d wanted to run to her, he fought the urge knowing the men needed him most. He got a second wind after seeing her so weak, his energy returning, invigorating him as he quelled the villagers’ panic by taking charge of the aftermath and commanding the troops. He wanted to spend time with her, to understand what she’d done. But by the time he’d had a chance, she and their son were already asleep.

At least they’d recovered a veritable armory of weapons and armor from the dead ondilaan. There were so many axes and swords of varying types almost everyone in the village could be armed. I wish the ondilaan used shields, he thought wistfully, but at least there’s more leather armor we can resize. Some of it was even studded, and he’d ordered Martok to see what could be done with it as soon as he’d seen the size of the pile.

I better see how that’s going.

Some of the villagers walked in, their clothes covered in ash and soot. They approached him tiredly. “Commander, the fire’s out,” a worn-out looking man reported.

“Good. Find Jarrod Tarr. Last I heard, he was behind the inn somewhere. He knows what needs done and can use whatever help you can give him. But try and get some rest before you do too much more, all of you look exhausted.”

“Yes, Commander,” came a scattering of tired replies.

As they left, he turned his thoughts to the village. There were around a hundred villagers he’d been told. Most of the people here were farmers, just like most of the villagers around the Serensea. Right now, they were packed into the remaining houses, some having three families inside of them. He wondered absently if there were going to be any crops left to be harvested. The last he’d seen of the fields was that they were a trampled mess.

Probably should have someone look into that too.

Moran entered. He was still pale, sweating slightly, but he was on his feet and his mind was clear. Moran had insisted on taking over for Oldsby when he was brought in to be healed, and Donnor couldn’t bring himself to refuse. The need for an experienced man to take charge outweighed any thought of having him remain bedridden to finish his recovery. As long as he can remain on his feet, he’s fine, was his callous judgement.

“How are your men?” Donnor asked as Moran sat after giving him an absent salute.

“Bad. I have ten on their feet. I only have two in the mill, and they have orders to stay out of sight as much as possible. The rest are at the bridge where the ondilaan can see them if they’re still out there thinking about attacking us again. Maybe the sight of them will give them pause, but who knows.”

“The defenses there?”

“They’re fine. The mill was never attacked, and the barricades did their job in preventing the ondilaan from just wading across the stream and into the village. The bridge is a little rough and we’re rebuilding the barricade there, but it’ll hold. If we can, I’d like to build more barricades south of the bridge.” He paused, absently looking in the direction he was talking about, blocked by the wall of the inn. “The ondilaan were able to leap the stream in places there and get around behind us. There’s damage to a cattle pen, and I could use that fencing since it’ll never contain another cow until it’s rebuilt.”

“Mrs. Hibold’s cows were finally caught, and they’re over at the barn with the artocks,” Jarrod Tarr said as he tiredly sat and joined them, passing out mugs of ale. “The paddock fences can be torn down and made into barricades if you think it would help.”

“Please,” Donnor said, getting a nod from Jarrod in return. “How are the villagers, Jarrod?” He took a sip, grunting in appreciation.

“Scared. As more ondilaan bodies are found, it’s becoming more real. We’ve started burning the bodies where the smithy used to be. Everything that we could salvage from it was moved a couple hours ago into the house across the street, but I sure could use the room it’s taking up. With the house that burnt down, on top of the two we lost earlier, we’re running out of room to put people.”

“Are any of them interested in helping fight? I could use people at the mill. Moran only has two people there. If there are people willing to defend the lower level, I can keep archers in the upper windows and not worry about them being overrun.”

“We’ll find some,” Mr. Tarr promised. His son Martol came out of the kitchen and waved for someone outside to come in.

“How are we on food?”

“Nothing’s changed there. We can’t hunt until we know the ondilaan are gone, so meat’s a little scarce. I’d like to not slaughter the cows or the artocks if we can, but it’s still a possibility. We won’t have a problem for two more days, though. There’s a huge supply of flour and grain up at the mill. We were getting ready to send a shipment to Redtail, so that shipment is just sitting there waiting to be used. And, I’ve already been using it to thicken and bulk up the stews so I don’t use as much meat.”

Donnor grunted in acknowledgement as a couple of men and women came into the inn while they paused to sip their ales. The villagers entered the kitchen and came back out carrying two large pots of food and some other things before they left the inn.

“How are your men, Donnor?” Jarrod said quietly after they left. “You haven’t said much, but I know you’re hurting just by counting the wounded I’ve got in my rooms.”

Donnor looked up at Jarrod and tiredly met his eyes. “It’s not good,” he admitted, accompanied by a resigned sigh from Moran. “We didn’t take any losses to the archers, and they were able to collect most of the arrows they’d shot which puts them in good shape. They’re split right now between the mill and the barn. But besides the archers, we’ve only got twenty-two men on their feet, including Moran’s. That’s not enough to defend against what we saw last night.

“I have no idea how Arisaylia did it, but we only have eight dead,” Donnor continued, looking up at the ceiling. “The rest she patched up enough so they won’t die, but there’s nothing to be done for them except let them rest until she wakes up. They’re in some sorry shape. So, roughly half our force is upstairs right now, most not able to walk.

“I’m doing the same as Moran and hiding the fact that we’ve been hurt so badly. I’ve got nine men on the southern side near where the smithy used to be, and three up at the drying shack. The archers are under orders to stay out of sight, but I could really use anyone with a will to fight to protect them to free up other troops.” He took another sip.

Jarrod looked back and forth between them, not quite believing how bad it was. He got a nod from Moran confirming the bad news. “Gods …” He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat. “Smith Rarton is furious he lost the smithy and can probably be counted on to fight if I asked him. There are also some men whose women were abused before you came who are still looking for someone to hit. I’ll put the word out and see what we can do.”

“Thank you. Five would help, ten would be wonderful, and twenty would be a blessing by the gods. When the rest of the men are healed, we’ll be in better shape. But Ari won’t wake up for a day or two, so we have to hold out till then.

“Right now, the men are spent. I’m keeping them at their posts sleeping in shifts in case of another attack, but they’ll need to get under cover if it starts to rain again. They can’t stay out there forever, no matter how much we need it,” he trailed off, staring absently off in the distance.

“How is she?” Jarrod asked Taylin, after she came down the stairs and walked over to join them.

“They’re still asleep, unka’,” she said, giving him a tired smile. “At least I think so. Saress won’t let me in the door.”

“Saress is guarding them and she’s very protective,” Donnor remarked. “I should probably relieve her; she’s been up all day.”

“So have you,” Moran said pointedly. “No offense, but you’re barely on your feet. Get some rest, Donnor, you need it. We’ll get you if something happens.”

Jarrod and Taylin nodded in agreement.

“Huh, guess I’m outvoted,” he said, which got some emphatic nods at his comment. “Okay, I’ll get some rest.

“Moran, you’re in charge. Get some barriers up and see if you can’t block off the eastern side along the stream. Wake Mikus up for duty at night. Dwarves can see in the dark if you didn’t know … gnomes and sprites can too, just not as well. I sent him off to sleep a couple of hours ago, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping with his men down by what’s left of the smithy. Keris is up at the shack last I heard,” he said absently.

“We’ve got it, Donnor,” Moran said.

“Jarrod, if it stays quiet, we might have a chance to send some people out to hunt. Do you have any hunters that are good with a bow?”

“Plenty. The tanner’s family hunts, and they’re all skilled with the bow. But we can talk about that after you sleep, it can wait a bit.”

“Sure, sure. See if they’ll take up position on the roof here,” Donnor finished absently. “How about the crops? Are they too damaged to harvest?”

“Don’t know, but I know the farmers are inspecting them as best they can. I can have someone let you know after you wake.”

“Okay.” Donnor nodded a couple of times. “Is there a cot anywhere? I might drag it into the room with Ari and Tommy and sleep there, so I’m close by.”

“We’ll get one,” Jarrod said. He looked amused by Donnor’s inability to stop thinking.

“Okay,” Donnor said, not moving and continuing to stare blankly at the people around him.

“Come on, Donnor. Let’s go see Ari,” Taylin said as she pulled him to his feet and led him to the stairs.

“Get some sleep, Commander,” Moran called as he walked away.

“I should probably eat,” he said.

“We’ll bring something to you,” Taylin said, gently guiding him up the stairs.

“I’m being difficult, aren’t I?”

“A bit. You need to sleep,” she said as she knocked on the door.

“Let us in Saress. They’re putting me to bed,” Donnor said. After a moment, a noise could be heard before the door cracked open revealing Saress, who took one look at him and opened the door the rest of the way.

He looked at his former lover and their son. “How are they?”

“They’re fine, Donnor,” Taylin said, while Saress nodded in agreement. Taylin continued leading him into the room and helped him sit at Ari’s side, on her cot. She motioned for Saress to help, and began removing his boots after Saress shut the door. “Lie down. You need sleep.”

“Tell Mikus to watch for them to try and sneak in before sunrise. They probably see well at night since they attacked in it,” he mumbled as he lay down.

“We will. Right, Saress?”

“The troop will be cared for, Strike Leader,” Saress said in elven, understanding he needed to hear they would be fine.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he rolled into Ari’s side. He put an arm around her, closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.

Taylin and Saress watched for a moment in silence making sure he was asleep before Taylin turned. “I thought he’d never let himself fall asleep. Do you need anything?”

“A cot. Some food. That is all.”

“That’s easy. Come with me and we can get everything.”

“I cannot leave. I am needed here.”

Taylin studied her. “How long are you going to stay up here?”

“Until he commands I am relieved,” she said quietly, while watching her sleeping charges. There was a rightness about them she thought, and then she realized something.

They looked like a family.

Rounds

“Donnor ... Wake, Donnor. You are needed,” someone said, while gently shaking him.

He could smell her. He curled himself familiarly into her figure, his skin tingling with their touch. The sweet, pure smell of her skin relaxed him as he shifted languidly, getting more comfortable.

“Wake, Donnor. Mikus calls, wake.”

What does Mikus want?

He opened his crusted eyes, blinking blearily trying to clear them as he looked around and smelled the blood and smoke. He snapped instantly awake. Striking out with one hand, he scrambled to defend himself.

All while grasping for a blade that wasn’t there.

Saress looked on from a few steps away, watching until she saw reason enter his eyes. She’d suspected he would wake like that; unsurprised he unconsciously went for a weapon, striking out, readying to defend himself before he was even awake. Some of the J’al’osil did the same.

The old ones.

He has seen much. More than I was briefed, more than they know. Much more to be that way.

“The ondilaan have returned. The sun is almost set, and they started calling some minutes ago.”

He blinked at her, his mental sluggishness draining away with mention of the ondilaan. Then he rubbed his face trying to force wakefulness into him.

“Have they attacked?”

“No.”

“The men?”

“Awake. Mikus awaits downstairs.”      

“Okay,” he said as he shook himself, then stood grabbing for his weapons. “Guard them, Saress. I cannot.” He paused for a moment, almost mournfully, to touch Arisaylia and his son.

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

He nodded, finished gathering his things, and left through the door she shut behind him. He felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind as he trotted down the stairs, but he pushed that part of him aside, burying it deep. He needed to concentrate. He’d all but cleared his thoughts of them when he joined Mikus downstairs.

“What’s going on, Mikey?”

“Donnor, good. Yer’ awake,” he said as he turned away from the conscript he’d been talking to. The conscript gave Mikus a salute he didn’t see before trotting off into the night. “The blasted ondilaan be callin’. They be startin’ a bit ago, but Rast say he be hearin’ tha’ low growlin’ fer’ a while now. I woke everyone up an’ called fer’ ya’. Ya’ want ta’ command, or fight?”

“You already know what’s going on and I’m just waking up. Heck, you’re the one who taught me formations and set-piece battles in the first place. What do you want to do?”

“I have tha’ teachin’ o’ you some, but ye have a knack fer’ strategy I do no. Karn an’ Turred be havin’ their own axes now, an’ be trained almost the same as I. I got them wi’ me down south an’ we’ll be puttin’ a hurtin’ on tha’ bastards if they be comin’ there again.”

“Fine. I have command. Anything else?”

“Aye. Jarrod come through fer’ us, he did. There be village men in tha’ mill an’ tha’ barn. They have some spears, but mostly be havin’ pitchforks an’ tha’ like. None of them be knowin’ their way around a weapon, so they be usin’ what they know. He jus’ left ta’ get someone up on tha’ roof here.”

“Moran? Keris?”

“They be at tha’ bridge an’ tha’ shack,” he said as Jarrod walked in followed by a man, a girl, and three boys. The newcomers all had bows and they continued past, trotting up the stairs.

They look scared, Donnor thought, watching the young ones pass by with wide, saucer-like eyes.

Jarrod saw them and came over. “That was the Valen family I was telling you about; they run the tannery. They’re taking up station on the roof.” Mikus and Donnor nodded.

“Mikus, head south. I’ll join you in a moment,” Donnor said. Mikus gave a nod, turned, and trotted away.

“Jarrod, you’re in charge here. Wake Taylin and have her get ready for wounded. I have to make my rounds and check on everyone. I’ll try and keep you informed, but if you don’t hear from me concentrate on defending the inn. I’ll be sending people to hold here if they attack in force as a fallback position.”

“Fine. Is there anything I can do?”

“Pray they don’t attack.”

Donnor turned and left the inn, walking out into the night. Pausing in front of the inn, he closed his eyes using his other senses to take in the night. There was a cool breeze from the south that faintly carried the sour smell of the ondilaan with it.

Not one night sound … That’s not good.

There was the ondilaan’s scattered cackling coming from all directions, but none of the whooOOPs he’d heard the night before. The ‘feeling’ of the night wasn’t as intense, and he hoped that was a good sign as he took it all in.

Reopening his eyes, he strode off to the barn. Opening the door he saw eight villagers there, peeking out through the opposite door they’d cracked open to watch the western fields. They turned as he came in.

“Anyone in command here?”

“No, Captain … err, Commander,” one of the village men said.

“Donnor, just Donnor,” he said absently as Laren called down from above.

“We’ve got them, Donnor. There’s five of us up here. We’ve got three on the west side window, and knocked a hole in the thatch so the other two can look south.”

“Good. See anything?”

“No, just lots of calls. Dap here says he can hear the growls, but we can’t hear ‘em.”

“Dap? You tell them if anything changes with those growls. I think they’re coming from whoever’s in charge. You hear me?”

“Yes, Donnor Silverspear,” Dap quietly replied in his accented voice.

Donnor grunted. “I’m off to check on Keris, then I’ll backtrack to see Mikus. Stay alert. Shout if you see anything.” And after a chorus of acknowledgements, he left.

The cackling was still scattered and hadn’t seemed to increase any as he reentered the night. He walked slowly towards the shack, noticing the Valen family settling in on the roof of the inn. The room Ari and Tommy were in had its window cracked. He threw a quick wave towards it knowing Saress was there somewhere, watching in the dark.

Keris and five others were around the shack, watching the treeline intently. Keris met his eyes quickly before returning to watching the woods. Donnor stopped and stood beside him, looking out himself.

“Anything?” Donnor asked after a moment.

“No, just noises.”

“I thought you only had three?” Donnor questioned.

“Mikus sent the other two. Ladig and Merrit can see in the dark some. Not as well as the elves can, but there was no one else up here who could.”

Donnor nodded, then realized Keris probably couldn’t see that in the dark. “Fine. You need anything up here?”

“A thousand of the king's heavy cavalry?” Keris’s comment drew surprised chuckles from the others.

“Right. Let me pull them out of my ass,” Donnor replied sarcastically to more laughter. “I just left the barn. It looks like Laren stepped up and is taking charge there. You have the Valen family on the roof of the inn behind you; they’re the village’s hunters and apparently pretty good. They can provide some support if you need to fall back to the inn or the barn. Don’t die defending this shack, got it?”

“Yes, Commander,” Keris replied, accompanied by the others echoing their agreement.

“Good. I’m off.”

Donnor turned back to the village, passing by the inn on his way towards the barn. The Valen family had a great position on its roof, commanding a view of the entire village.

Shame it’s not a stone tower.

The artocks were looking around in the dark and were restless; he hoped they didn’t spook. They didn’t need the immense animals charging around on top of dealing with another attack. A long, low, drawn-out grunt sounded from the south as he approached the edge of the remaining houses there.

“First new sound o’ tha’ night,” Mikus called over his shoulder.

Mikus was standing, flanked by the other two dwarves; all three with axes and shields. The other four spears of the troop still on their feet were evenly split on either side. It reminded him of one of the dwarven formations Mikus had taught him years ago. And even Nalin and Folt, the two halflings, looked menacing deployed this way.

“Who’s at the tannery?”

“No one. Tha’ villagers worked their arses off an’ got tha’ rest o’ tha’ barriers up. There be some from tha’ bridge all tha’ way down ta’ tha’ tannery now. A family o’ loggers live on tha’ village side of tha’ tannery and they be defendin’ their house an’ tha’ other family they got shoved in there wi’ ‘em.”

“That’s not so good,” Donnor said, turning towards the tannery which was deep in shadow.

“Aye, but it be all we had,” Mikus said.

Donnor nodded, knowing Mikus could see it. “All right, we have bowmen on the roof of the inn and Keris will fall back there, or to the barn, if he needs to. Let me check on Moran, then I’ll probably stay near the inn.”

“Aye, lad. Ye’ll be hearin’ tha’ fightin’ if we be needin’ anythin’.” Mikus grinned.

“Don’t get too bored down here,” Donnor said as he walked off to some chuckles.

At least their spirits have improved.

There was indeed a new barrier separating the tannery from the rest of the village. It looked like it had been made from tables, barrels, and the cattle fencing Jarrod had talked about earlier. A large man was deep in the shadow of the building across from it, holding a large felling axe while Donnor inspected the construction.

“Commander,” the man said quietly in acknowledgement as Donnor walked over.

“You the logger?”

“Aye,” he replied, clasping Donnor’s hand in a powerful grip.

“See anything?”

“No. I got my boys up and inside, just in case. The Jaltol’s are in there too. One of the boys is running messages for us.”

“Your boy?”

“No, little Jaltol is our runner. I’m Walp, Walp Calz.”

“Nice to meet you. You need anything?”

“No. We talked with your Mikus a while ago.”

“Thanks for helping to fight.”

Walp snorted. “I’ll not be sitting on my duff while they kill us,” he answered, thrusting his chin out into the night.

“Okay. Stay alert. Raise the alarm if you see anything. The Valens are on the roof of the inn. Head there if there’re too many. I’m heading to the bridge,” he finished and started walking away.

“Aye,” Walp replied quietly.

Good man, Donnor thought. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the fields even once as they’d talked. I hope he survives.

Another low grunt sounded from the east as he walked, drawing his attention that way. He walked up and shook one of the barricades between the tannery and the bridge, disturbing some small creature who scampered away.

This seems solid ...

It looked like they’d taken some of the fence rails, sharpened them on one end and tied them together in groups. Then lashed the whole thing to the posts that had already been there, or new ones they’d driven into the ground. It wouldn’t do much without men defending it, but it would take time to cross, which was the point. The spiked fence stretched all the way to the bridge, and he could see ten men there with Moran, looking nervous.

“Enjoying your evening?” Donnor called out lightly, putting as much ease and levity into his voice as he could.

One of the men jumped, but all of them looked at him, surprised by his tone. Moran turned, raising one eyebrow, knowing full well that he was affecting the relaxed tone on purpose.

“It’s a nice night,” Moran replied. “Might start a fire later, roast some deer, sing a few songs. Maybe flirt with a lass or two ... you know how it goes.” That earned him some disbelieving snorts from the men.

“Should we invite the neighbors?” Donnor waved his hands out to the fields.

“Naw, they're too noisy ... and they’d spill the ale,” Moran quipped, to more chuckles.

“Oh well, I guess they can wait till next time then,” Donnor rejoined, as if it was a terrible shame they couldn’t come. More chuckles came at the ridiculousness of their conversation, and he could see some of the men starting to relax.

“I’m out for a stroll myself,” Donnor said. “Think I’ll stop by the mill. Need anything?”

“No. We’re good here.”

“Good. I’ll be heading back to the inn after that. The Valen family is out stargazing on the roof back there if you need them,” he said in passing. He thrust his chin towards the figures, backlit by the stars on the roof of the inn.

“Maybe I’ll join them later,” Moran muttered as he turned back to Donnor. “Thanks for pointing them out. Think they’ll be up a while?”

“All night, I hear.”

“Huh. Well, if it gets too exciting here, maybe I’ll find a lass and join them.”

“Fair enough.” Donnor squeezed his shoulder with one hand in parting as he continued on towards the mill. He was confident Moran caught his subtle hint that the archers were on the roof to provide support, and to fall back there if needed. He hadn’t been able to say it out loud, though. Not without undoing what he had done to relax the men.

The barriers on this side of the bridge weren’t sharpened, but they stretched all the way to the mill. The buildings were almost in their own little compound, set in a triangle with a storehouse and the miller's home close by.

The happily burbling stream on the other side of the barrier was calming as he walked to the mill. He’d been told the stream was deeper here, more difficult to cross. Anyone attempting the crossing would have to slow and be seen from the mill’s upper windows, and he could see the small figure of a sprite in the upper window from where he was.

As he approached, he noticed that someone had overturned a wagon. It was on its side, interspersed with other things between the house and the mill, making the direction he was coming from the only clear approach.

Good idea.

He was impressed with the impromptu fortifications erected since he went to sleep. The door to the mill was open, and someone was silhouetted by the faint light of a candle burning inside.

“You’ll want to watch the light. It’ll ruin your vision in the night,” he said quietly as he came near.

“Didn’t know that. Who are you?”

“Donnor. I’m with the troop that came in a few days ago.”

“Commander! Sorry, sir, I couldn’t tell who you were. What can we do for you?”

“None of that, just call me Donnor. I’m here making my rounds and checking to make sure you're okay. Who’s in charge here?” he asked, as he walked in out of the night.

The inside of the mill was warmer than the outside air, and the light of the candle burning on the table provided reassurance to everyone inside. A few of the village men were sitting around the table and appeared to be casting dice while they waited.

Immer, one of his archers, was walking down the stairs in front of him. “That’d be me, Commander. We’ve got the yard blocked off with barriers, and people in all the windows. That was Lari watching you as you walked up. As long as they don’t fire the roof, we’ll be okay.”

“How many do you have?”

“There’s six of us up there. The mill has a great view all around, and as long as the clouds stay away, we have a great position to shoot anyone who approaches. Besides us, there’re ten villagers here on the first level guarding the yard and the other door by the wheel.”

“You’re the last stop on my rounds. Besides the cackling and some growls, no one else has seen a thing. You?”

“We saw something pretty far up the stream to the north after they started making noise, but we weren’t sure what it was. Whatever it was crossed the stream quickly, and we haven’t seen it since.”

“You’re the only one who’s seen anything then. We’ve got a family of bowmen on the roof of the inn, so you’ll have some help to the north. Besides that, same orders as before. Hold this position, raise the alarm if you see anything.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“I’ll be at the inn if you need me. Any questions?”

“No.”

“All right. Stay awake. Hopefully nothing happens,” Donnor finished and walked back out into the night.

Two men followed him out and closed the door behind them, saying they were letting their vision adjust. Donnor walked over to the barrier between the mill and the house, checking its sturdiness. It was like the others: waist-high, sturdy, but wouldn’t do much besides slow the ondilaan down with no one guarding it.

It is what it is.

He nodded to the two men and walked back into the heart of the village. He was about to enter the inn when a new sound drifted up from the south, and he stopped and moved down the path to look towards it. A long deep Ooooo came from the treeline there, and he waited many long minutes watching the southern treeline with nothing happening.

Guess we’re fine. If something was going on, Mikus would have sounded the alarm.

Turning away, he walked into the inn. He recognized Taylin yawning tiredly with a group of women near the fire drinking tea. They were sitting amongst piles of waiting bandages and a pot of steaming water. “Just noise so far,” he said in a manner of greeting as he moved to join Mr. Tarr at the bar. Some other women peeked out from the kitchen, and he gave them a nod, getting nods in return.

“Anything?” Jarrod asked.

“No. The only people who saw anything were the archers at the mill. They saw something quickly crossing the stream in the distance to the north but didn’t get a good look at it. Could have been a deer for all we know.”

“You think it was a deer?”

“No. But who knows what it could have been.”

Jarrod sighed. “We’ve got an hour or two till dawn. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing. As long as they don’t attack, I’ll be perfectly happy to sit and do nothing. The light evens the odds. Most of us can’t see in the dark.”

“True. And tomorrow?”

“The same. The more time they give us, the longer we have to plan and prepare. Nice job on the barriers, by the way.”

“Thank the village tomorrow; they worked hard.”

“I will. Mr. Calz and his boys help out?”

“You met him?”

“Yeah. He’s up at his house and he and his boys have taken it upon themselves to protect the tannery, it seems. He’s got another family in with him, the Jaltol’s.”

“Huh, didn’t know that. Anyway, his ‘boys’ are grown men and as big as he is. They did most of the cutting on the fences. The family with them are gnomes.”

“He said their boy was running messages for them. It makes sense; they can see in the dark.” Jarrod grunted in agreement. One of the village women came up with a pot of tea and poured Donnor a cup, Jarrod holding his hand over his.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, Commander. The herbs in the tea taste bitter but will help you stay awake.”

“Are there more? Of the herbs, I mean,” he asked with sudden interest.

“Yes …” She looked at him oddly. “It’s a weed. There’s plenty of it around the houses. It spreads everywhere and chokes out the flowers.”

“Hmmm, if there’s a chance tomorrow, we should get some and make as much of the tea as we can. It’ll help the night guards.”

“Sure, Commander. That’s easy,” she replied.

“Donnor.”

“Commander?”

“Just call me Donnor, please?”

“Of course, Commander,” she replied impishly as she turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Jarrod chuckled. “You’re stuck with it, you know.”

Donnor threw him a look then picked up his tea, walking back to the door. He opened it and leaned against the doorframe, looking out into the night, letting the cool air in. Jarrod walked over and leaned on the end of the bar, looking out over his shoulder. They stood like that in companionable silence, holding their steaming cups.

Watching and listening to the calls of the ondilaan, backlit by the fire within.

Waking Up

Tommy realized he was alive. At least I think so.

He felt like someone had beaten him from head to toe, decided he hadn’t been beaten enough, and beat him from head to toe again. He was so weak his arms and legs felt like they were being shoved into the bed beneath him, while his pounding head beat a steady rhythm of suffering he couldn’t ignore. Not this again, he whined to himself, recognizing the results of drawing on too much magic.

He managed to crack one eye open. Dim light was coming in through a crack in the window, and that minuscule amount of light stabbed into his eye, increasing the pain. He must have made some kind of noise because there was a thud, and then Saress’s face appeared in front of him.

“Tomilanthus, you are awake. How do you feel?”

“Gnaaaah,” was all he was able to muster, realizing his tongue was sticky and thick with spit. He closed his eyes against the light. This seemed to be enough of an answer for Saress, who reached for something somewhere out of sight and brought it to his lips.

“Drink. It will help you wake.”

He squinted at her suspiciously as she held the bottle to his lips.

“Drink,” she commanded gently, her slitted golden eyes inspecting him.

Something hit his tongue in a puckering bitterness that verged on revolting. He quickly had to choose between spitting it out and spraying Saress in the process, or swallowing the vile liquid.

He decided swallowing would do the least damage. Saress would kill me.

It certainly did wake him up, though. The flavor would wake the dead. Gods! He struggled to choke it down, cursing.

“It is bitter, I know,” she remarked, with an utter lack of sympathy. She continued to inspect him. “It is a potion to help you recover quickly. You should take another drink,” she stated, getting a quick head shake of refusal from him which caused his head to throb even more.

“Oooowwww,” was all that managed to leave his lips as he lay there in misery.

Saress watched him a moment longer then put the stopper back on the bottle, deciding that was enough for now as long as he was coherent. She placed her hand on his head, then over his heart, holding it there for a moment before removing it. Then she started rubbing and massaging his limbs.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!” Tommy complained as her hands rubbed life back into his limbs. She might have thought she was being gentle, but Tommy felt as if she was stabbing him with a thousand needles everywhere her hands went. “What are you doing?” Tommy whined as she hit an especially sore spot.

“You have not moved since we placed you here. Your limbs will be stiff and not wanting to move. We need to get your blood moving. This is what I’m doing,” she explained, ignoring his continued complaints.

Eventually, after an aeon of the undeserved torture, he was able to raise his hand to his head and cover his eyes. That added some relief by just helping to block the light more.

“What year is it?” he complained sourly as she continued to rub, pushing away his weak attempts to get her to stop.

“It is midafternoon, two days since we put you and Nisa Saliantrea here,” she said, as she continued her ministrations. Her hands on his thigh triggered a cramp, and he contorted trying to evade the pain. She noticed and just rubbed that part more. “Lie still,” she said indifferently.

“Owwwww,” he whined again, casting evil thoughts in her direction.

She attacked the cramp directly, and though it hurt, she did manage to eventually make it go away before she moved on to his other leg. Her technique wasn’t nice, but it was certainly effective.

“Let her do it, Tomilanthus,” Ari said groggily from somewhere nearby. “It will hurt, but it will help.” She yawned.

“What is she doing?” Tommy mumbled absently as Saress found and attacked another cramp in his calf.

“It’s a simple massage that we’re taught. Mages have a tendency to pass out if we overdraw, and it helps get us on our feet faster,” she said, making a noise.

He looked over and saw her holding her head, blocking the light. She pushed some of her scarlet hair out of her face and glanced at him in her own misery, then looked away.

“I hate it too.”

“Do mages pass out a lot?” he asked.

Saress pushed his hand away from his face and attacked his arm, utterly unmoved by his glare.

“No,” Saress said, “only foolish ones, who do too much.” That comment garnered another grunt from Ari in reply.

Saress finished his arms, then reached under him and sat him up. The room spun as he sat there squeezing his eyes closed, fighting to hold onto his balance. Sometime later, he realized her arm was still around him and he was panting quickly. Eventually, she asked him to open his eyes, and she studied him while his breathing slowed. Once she determined he wasn’t going to fall over, she let him go.

“Your turn, Nisa Saliantrea,” she said, moving in to torture her next.

Ari took it much better than Tommy had, but she still let out a couple of gasps and groans before she too was sat up and steadied. Ari opened her eyes, and her deep emerald orbs met his.

“I hate this.”

Tommy grunted in reply. They sat there, blankly staring at each other, before Tommy realized his bladder was about to explode.

“Uh, I need the privy,” he said, considering whether it was worth the effort to stand up.

“Me too,” Ari replied.

“Stay. I will get someone,” Saress said, and surprisingly left them alone as she exited through the door.

A few moments later she reappeared with Pari, and they managed to get both of them on their feet after much pain and complaining. Tommy leaned heavily on Saress as she guided him past someone coming out of another room, down the stairs, and into the privy while Pari did the same with Arisaylia.

At least she let me use it in private, he groused as he sat, after Saress had closed the door.

He stood and cleaned himself before stepping back out through the door and being led to a table in the common room. Ari joined him there a moment later, and he realized she looked decidedly worse for wear. If the way Arisaylia looked was any indication, he figured he looked downright terrible.

A few of the village women came and fussed over them, and soon there were bowls of something hot and some tea. Tommy didn’t think he could eat anything, but he sipped the tea so no one would force the food into him while he enjoyed just sitting still again. Some unknown amount of time passed before his head began to clear, and he started to look around.

It registered on him that there were piles of cloth on a few of the tables, which led him to realize that the common room was set up to treat the wounded once more. As he looked around taking another sip, he noticed children playing ball in the corner being watched by a woman who was sitting near the fire, stirring a pot. Only women were in the room that he could see, and they were coming and going up and down the stairs carrying clean and soiled bandages.

Ari was spooning broth into her mouth, one slow spoonful at a time, while someone was braiding her long hair into a loose plait before tying it off. Ari waved her spoon at Tommy to try and get him to eat something, and he screwed his face up in refusal. She grunted, lowering her head, and kept eating.

Saress must have noticed. “Your head will clear and your aches ease if you eat. The tea will only last a short time.”

Tommy looked at her, judging whether she was telling the truth or not, then gave in and started spooning in the broth. His stomach twisted slightly in rebellion after the first sip.

At least he didn’t gag.

His da’ and Mr. Tarr walked in and came immediately over on seeing them awake. Donnor placed his hand on Ari’s back while looking at Tommy in concern.

“How are they, Saress?” he asked, taking in his son’s pale, exhausted face.

“Well enough. They must eat and drink, then rest some more. They may be able to do some small, slight things this evening. No more.”

“Okay. You know best.”

“Commander! Commander!” a boy yelled as he skidded into the inn, then ran over when he saw him. “Commander! Mr. Mikus needs you!”

“Okay,” he said, obviously torn by wanting to stay. “You,” he said, turning to Saress. “Stay,” he ordered as he reluctantly turned and left.

“I’ll stay too, Donnor,” Jarrod called. Donnor raised a hand in acknowledgement, never turning as he left the inn.

“That man is going to die from lack of sleep,” he muttered, looking out the door as Donnor disappeared. Ari looked up at him, making a noise in query with her mouth full. “You eat. I’ll talk,” Mr. Tarr said. She nodded and returned to her food.

“The ondilaan disappeared after the battle, and you’ve been asleep almost two days. They started making noise again this morning, and we’ve all been up ever since; only taking a nap here and there when we can. They’ve been carrying on out of sight all day somewhere in the trees.

“Around lunch, it sounded like there was a fight with growling and snarling somewhere down south. But nothing ever came of it and it ended quickly enough. We’ve just been sitting here, waiting, while all that’s been going on. And it’s slowly driving all of us a little crazy.”

“The wounded?” Ari mumbled between bites.

“We’ve got twenty-two in here, upstairs. The ones we got to you in time all made it, but eight died. Most of them were Moran’s and Oldsby’s at the bridge.”

“Do they still need help?”

“You will not, Nisa Saliantrea!” Saress declared hotly. “You are in no condition to perform another working after the an’tor, and your workings almost killed you. I have no more of the potion besides what’s here,” she declared, thunking an almost empty bottle firmly down onto the table in front of her.

“You need to rest and regain your strength. If they attack, you can abuse yourself again, but not before!” Saress all but growled, eyeing Ari, and seeming to dare her to disagree.

Ari met her eyes and sighed. “You are right, Saress. You are right. I will wait.” She returned to her food under the watchful glare of her guardian.

Tommy watched them both, realizing this was the first time Ari had completely backed down. He wondered what it meant.

“She’s right, my Lady,” Jarrod said. “Taylin has taken charge, and the women here are working with the wounded. They’ve got it well in hand. No one will recover instantly, but even Sergeant Oldsby, who came in with a sword in his gut, will recover in time. You were even able to save your man Dorn’s arm.”

Ari nodded and looked back towards the stairs wistfully. Noticing Saress’s glare, she returned to her food. Saress huffed in annoyance then turned on Tommy with raised eyebrows, as if daring him to say or do anything.

Tommy leaned away from her, also returning to his food, thinking it was better sometimes not to dare the dragon.

Taylin snorted from across the table as she joined them, obviously amused by their interaction. “Hey unka’, how long have they been up?” she said, giving him a hug while she sat. She looked tired but in good spirits, and seemed to have aged a little since he’d last seen her.

“A few minutes only, Taylin.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around her companionably. “I’ve just been letting them know what’s been going on while Saress was expressing the need for them to rest.”

“Hmm. Good. We need you, my Lady, but not like this. Rest. We have this under control for the moment,” she said with a gentle smile, and Ari nodded in return.

“Are you making the tea?” Mr. Tarr queried.

“Yes, unka’. We’ll make another batch after this one cools. Though it’s awful strange to be out weeding when they are out there,” she remarked with a shiver.

“Weeding?” Saress asked.

“Yes, one of the weeds around here can be used to help keep you awake. It’s bitter, and needs honey to drink it, but the commander wants some for overnight. So, we’re getting as much made as we can.”

“Does it have trifold leaves and a red stem?” Saress asked urgently.

“Noooo,” Taylin drew out, leaning away from Ari’s fierce guardian. “It does have the leaves, but the stem is orange. Why?”

“I must see some. It might be able to be used to make more potion to help them recover.”

“There’s some over there on the bar,” Taylin said, waving in that direction. “Help yourself. There’s tons of it.”

Saress immediately rose and strode over to inspect the plants. She sorted through them intensely, sniffing a piece here, tasting a piece there, reaching some kind of decision as Tommy pushed his empty bowl away.

Ari reached across the table, taking his hand. “How are you, Tomilanthus?” she asked, pushing her bowl away as well.

“I hurt, much worse than yesterday. Though it’s strange, almost like I'm getting used to it somehow?” He shrugged. “Anyway, my body aches, and the headache is there, but the food helped.”

Saress waved at someone in the kitchen, asking something, before glancing their way.

“Good. I feel the same way.”

“I could go back to sleep.” He watched Martol bring a small mortar and pestle out for Saress before she walked back to their table with a handful of plants.

“Me too,” she said wistfully, glancing towards the stair. “I don’t think I can get up there on my own.”

“Me either,” he grunted.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,” his da’ said as he sat back down beside them. “They’re back,” he said simply.

“Huh? The ondilaan? We knew that,” Jarrod chimed in.

“No, I guess I need to explain better. The ondilaan are at the southern treeline. There are roughly a score of them there, and they’re waving their weapons in the air, growling and snarling. One of my men says that’s what they normally do when they raid villages, and it’s the way they seem to psych themselves up. Unfortunately, they are staying out of bowshot so we can’t just kill them while they dance around. Nobody else has seen anything yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Saress? I need them on their feet. Either put them to bed or put something in them.” He turned to Ari saying, “Do you think you can do what you did to stop the attack? Those arrows of light?”

“No, Ilari. We talked about it a bit ago and Saress is right. The shock of another an’tor would almost certainly do permanent injury if I tried. Maybe later tonight, or tomorrow morning we could try some healing. But not now.”

“All right. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it. I’ve got a feeling something’s coming, and Mikus always told me to trust my gut. When I ignore it, bad things usually happen. And my gut’s telling me there’s more to come.

“I need you and your magic; without you, we’d already be dead. Rest, recover, and ready yourselves as soon as you can. I need to get back out there.

“Jarrod? Come along. I need to show you something.” They rose and left towards the barn.

“Is there any nightweed to be found, Taylin?” Ari asked.

“Nightweed? Why do you want that?”

“It’ll knock us out for a couple of hours. Tommy and I will recover faster that way.”

“Why don’t you just lie down and go to sleep?”

“With that going on?” Ari asked. The sounds and calls of the ondilaan drifted through the still open door. It was an eerie din, only slightly less loud for them being indoors.

“Guess not,” Taylin said, taking into account Arisaylia’s elven ears.

“Saress, would you help us back upstairs, please? Taylin, if you could steep some nightweed for a tea and bring it up in two cups, we can get started. We better go lie down and sleep if we’re to be of any use tonight,” she finished to their responding acknowledgements, and allowed herself to be helped to her feet.

“Tommy, we’ll need to work together again tonight. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ari. At least you don’t have to watch me not being able to make that stupid ball,” he trailed off, thinking about the mage globe and the training they’d missed.

Ari snorted, then chuckled, then laughed some more as they walked back upstairs to the room.

The Rider

Waking up this time was easier, but his body still hurt. It was dark outside. Ari was just standing up and starting to move around as Tommy rolled on his side. Saress glanced at them both from the window, where she watched out through a slight crack she’d left in the shutters.

I guess I’d better get up, he figured as he pushed himself up and started rubbing his head.

“What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his face, glad to find that this time his headache wasn’t as bad.

“Hours after sunset,” Saress replied quietly, watching them.

“We must arise, Tomilanthus,” Ari said. “We’ve luckily slept many hours, but they will need us soon. We need to eat, then see what we are able to do.”

Saress frowned but remained silent. She turned to continue watching out the window.

Tommy’s pants were loose around the waist, and he tightened them before putting on his shoes.

Ari yawned and sat back down while braiding her hair loosely, mainly just to get it out of her face. She stopped when she was done and caught herself watching him blankly before shaking herself into awareness.

Tommy noticed, realizing he was feeling foggy too. “Is that the tea we drank?”

“Yes. Everything will be slow and cloudy until it passes from our system. Eating will help.”

“I guess we should go then.”

“Yes.”

Saress snorted as they were both still sitting there, staring somewhat blankly at each other. “Come, let us get you something to eat,” she said. Pulling them both to their feet, she led them out of the room.

The common room hadn’t changed while they were sleeping; still full of women and ready bandages. Jarrod saw Saress leading the two of them down the stairs and came over to assist, then retreated into the kitchen when Saress asked for food for them both. He reappeared with two full steaming bowls of something hearty and full of wheat and grains which he set down in front of them. They started to eat.

“Nothing has changed since you went to bed,” Mr. Tarr said tiredly. “There’s been more posturing, and more groups of ondilaan seen on all sides, but no attacks. A few got into range of the archers at both the mill and the barn and took a couple of arrows, but none of them were killed. They’ve stayed mostly out of range since then, according to Donnor.”

“Where is he?” Ari asked.

“He was off to join Keris in the drying shack last I heard. Something about that being a weak flank.” He shrugged. “He left about an hour ago.” Ari nodded.

There was a sudden sound of calls from the ondilaan that drifted in through the open door of the inn. This went on for a few minutes before petering off into the scattered noises that Tommy realized he’d been hearing since he’d come downstairs. Saress moved to where she could watch out the door, her bow in hand. They sat in tense silence for a while, listening, while they continued to eat.

Eventually, Mr. Tarr turned back to them. “That’s mostly what’s been going on all day.”

Tommy realized he was still famished after he finished his bowl and asked if he could have some more. Jarrod nodded and left, returning with two more bowls for both of them. Ari thanked him as they both hungrily tore into the second bowl. Tommy wasn’t sure where the food was going, but he felt like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Ari ate with a determined pace, ignoring everything around her until the second bowl was finished. Then she sat back with a sigh, waiting for him to finish as well. As he pushed his bowl away, Ari met his eyes.

“We must see what we can do, if we can even do anything at all. Give me your hands.”

He reached across the table joining hands with her, resigning himself to the pain that was about to come. Her Tol reached out and linked with his in a symphony of agony that scattered across the pathways he could now clearly identify. The channels within him were ragged, raw, and abused, and they complained bitterly as she prodded his Tol into wakefulness. It was clear that it wanted to rebel against her demand that it rise from its rest, but he sat silently as she wrapped his Tol with her own. It seemed to finally understand that it was needed, and it flared and flashed in complaint inside of him. Eventually, it settled down and seemed almost to sulk as a warm feeling of potency slowly filled him.

“Owwwww,” Tommy complained as his Tol woke completely, a stronger headache the result.

“I hurt also, Tomilanthus, but we need to see what we can do. Your power is not diminished, and neither is mine. The pain is the only thing stopping us. We should see if we can heal.”

Jarrod studied them both. He’d almost thrown her out again when she did whatever it was that slaughtered the ondilaan. He’d seen the dozens of stacked corpses and remembered the tales. But she’d spent herself to save them, and he wouldn’t spurn her help.

The boy was one of them too; and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he’d gotten over his fear of them after watching her selflessly pour herself into protecting and caring for them all. Taylin’s tongue lashing helped too, defending the witch to any and all for her care of Moran.

They were doing their part. But both of them were noticeably thinner since coming to the village, and their faces were drawn. Ari’s cheekbones stood starkly from her face making it angular and severe, while Tommy had obviously cinched his pants so tight that they were bunched sloppily around his waist. Jarrod was about to ask about that but was interrupted by Saress.

“Alia a’den’ta a gitori nos, Nisa Saliantrea,” watching them crossly from the bar.

“I know, Saress, but it is a danger I accept. The shock of the an’tor is too much. If we cannot heal the wounded, what would you have us do?” she replied tiredly.

Saress had no reply. She huffed angrily, turning back to the door with a glare that would have destroyed it if it could.

“Jarrod, where are the wounded?” Ari asked tiredly, turning back to him.

“Upstairs, Lady. But don’t hurt yourself, please. They can wait. Everyone you treated is up there, and even Taylin says none will die.”

“He needs his men,” Ari replied absently as she let go of Tommy’s hands and rose. “Come, Tommy, let us see what we can do,” she said as she waved for him to follow her back up the stairs.

Another round of sudden calls from the ondilaan drifted in from the open door of the inn behind them, sending chills up and down Tommy’s spine as they left.

Saress joined them and then stopped, watching out through the door for a moment. “They are closer,” she said after meeting Tommy’s questioning look, then followed them up the stairs.

Ari stopped a woman coming out of one of the rooms and asked if there were any men who were lightly wounded. The woman pointed them to the door of Sergeant Moran’s old room, saying that most of the ones in there would probably be able to rise tomorrow, as long as they took it easy. Ari nodded in thanks and walked to the door, entering the room.

There were three men in the room now, one on Moran’s old bed and two on makeshift cots that had been placed on the floor. The table had been moved against the wall, and was stacked high with things from around the room to make room for the other cots. Two of the men were asleep, but one was awake, his eyes catching the dim firelight as they entered. He tried to sit himself up as they entered, but grunted in pain, unable to rise.

“Shhhhh,” Ari said, waving for him to remain still. They moved to his side, and Tommy realized it was Camm, the corret handler he’d walked all the way from Redtail with.

“Camm! I didn’t know you were hurt! How are you?” he asked in concern, forgetting his tiredness and leaning closer.

Saress had closed the door behind them and moved to watch out the window where the calls of the ondilaan could clearly be heard.

“I hurt, Tommy, I do. Took a spear in the side. Ya’ healed me. Ya’ saved me, my Lady,” he said, almost in reverence, looking at Ari in wonder. She smiled down, placing her hand on him.

“And we’re going to do some more for you, Camm. The corret’s are lonely.”

“They don’t be needing me, my Lady,” he snorted, then winced in the pain the snort had caused.

“Be still,” Ari said simply and then turned to Tommy. “It is time to see what we can do. Place your hand on me, same as before,” she said and turned back to Camm, closing her eyes. He placed his hand on her shoulder as he resigned himself to the coming pain, and they began.

It hurt. That was all he could say.

Ari’s Tol wrapped around his own and drew from it while she quested inside of Camm. The pain ratcheted up the more she siphoned until he could barely think. He unknowingly let out a complaint, moaning aloud to the room. Eventually, he realized the draw from Ari had slowed then stopped, but it was many long moments before his thoughts cleared enough to realize this.

“You are not ready for this, Tomilanthus. I will do what I can on my own, but that won’t be much until I tire. I’m sorry.” She had a look of concern and defeat plastered across her face.

“Wait,” Tommy mumbled, his pathways afire with bursts of pain. “I want to help. It’s just too much, too fast. It’s not my Tol that hurts. It’s your draw.”

She watched him for a while, her mind in obvious thought. “Tommy, the Tol’An is designed to share your Tol with another. Many things can be done while in the Tol’An, but only one can draw from the other at a time. And there’s no way to teach you the control to perform the draw on your own. There’s no other way.”

“Can you use my Tol without drawing it out?”

“No, the only way for me to use your Tol is to draw it from you into me. The whole reason I’m doing this is so I tire more slowly since I am using your energy before my own. It hurts, but my pathways have long been set; I feel none of the agony you do. But I am limited with what I can do, and there is not enough of me to heal those in need.”

“Then how are you going to heal everyone?”

“I cannot. Simply healing the men here will use most of what I have. If you were trained it would be different, but there’s simply nothing else you can do.”

Tommy groaned in frustration. “But I want to help! I don’t want to let anyone down! Can’t you teach me to heal?” he asked in exasperation.

Ari immediately began to say no, but then stopped. She thought for a while, obviously considering something, something that disturbed her. She looked at Saress thoughtfully, then allowed, “there might be a way,” as her voice trailed off.

Saress watched her closely from the window, obviously wondering what was going on inside of Ari’s mind before something caught her attention. She turned away, looking intently out the window.

Ari quickly looked at Camm. “We’re going to try something, but for it to work I need you asleep. Can I put you to sleep for a while?” Camm trustingly met her eyes and nodded. She absently placed a finger to his temple and he started snoring.

“Tomilanthus, there is no way I can teach you to heal in the time we have. It took me years to learn, after intense study. But what I may be able to do is guide you to heal someone else. You would not have any knowledge of what I’m doing and just have to accept blindly what I ask you to do. Can you do that? Just do what I direct, utterly and completely, without second thought?”

“If it will let me help them, then yes.”

“Huh,” she grunted. “It would never work with the mages at home. They could never give up control to accept a rider,” she mumbled absently.

Saress’s head whipped around, snapping sharply towards her with her words. “What you are considering is forbidden, Arisaylia Saliantrea, and you well know it,” Saress said with a weighty finality of judgement, accompanied by her piercing gaze.

“Riding another is evil, abused easily, and almost always leads to the destruction of the one ridden. You know this. You also know of my duty. The duty of all J’al’osil.

“Do not do this.”

“He needs his men, Saress. Tomilanthus has the power but not the training. Combined, we could heal these men if only he could help. And he can, if he consents to be ridden. I just found them both, Saress. Would you see me sit back and let them both die when there is something I can do?”

Saress’s ears flattened as she continued staring at Arisaylia, seeming to judge her with her gaze. The increasing calls of the ondilaan drifted through the windows as she watched, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the fire that snapped and popped nearby. She looked at Tommy, settling her gaze on him, staring through him obviously deep in thought.

Tommy was confused by whatever they were talking about, but all he knew was that he wanted to help, and this seemed the way to do it. “I want to help,” he said simply as her gaze resumed its focus on him.

“He is my son,” Arisaylia quietly pleaded. “I could never harm him.”

“It is evil!” Saress declared.

“My ilari is out there,” she whispered as Saress’s ears flattened against her skull. “What would you have me do? I love him …

“I love them both.”

Saress pierced Ari with her predatory gaze for a long moment, and then in a sudden fury, drew back her lips, baring her teeth in a snarl. She hissed at Arisaylia; a long, slowly drawn-out expression of frustration and denial.

Ari flinched, but steadily held her gaze as Saress settled into a low, deep growl. Watching her for many long minutes, the silence pregnant with a multitude of unsaid things passing between them.

“A lar a’la tori nos tol, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress hissed.

“Genta na, J’al’osil,” Ari whispered.

“Ta tu ton airi alass ka sa!”

“Genta ...”

“Mar’col’li a’ sah, Saliantrea!”

“Ilari, J’al’osil Saress. Ilari.”

“... Jas tok Arisaylia. Ja tu’tial Ja’al’osil.”

“Ilari nos tairi, Saress … yandun nos tairi ... ahn’tal Donnor yandun.”

Arisaylia just sat there after her final words with her heart in her eyes, continuing to look at her guardian, pleading silently with her. Saress turned away to the window many long moments later, huffing in defeat. Ari bowed her head in relief after her guardian’s apparent capitulation.

“Am I making a mistake?” she asked quietly, looking down into her lap.

“I know not, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress said, ears still flat against her skull. “I know not.”

“Neither do I,” Ari replied, staying quiet for many moments. The calls of the ondilaan drifted in through the windows.

Looking at Tommy in concern, she began haltingly. “Tommy, what I’m going to try and do is take control of you ... almost like a puppet. It scares me, and is not something I, or anyone else in the Vale, considers natural. I can’t imagine the horrors that someone could do to another while in total control like I am going to be, but the warnings are clear.

“According to tomes that survived, mages during the ancient war would fight to dominate one another with their minds. The loser would be suffocated by the victor’s Tol, and used until drained, utterly. The victor was called Mar’col’i, the rider, and could control their victim with no way for the loser to escape. The loser could even be made to have no idea they were ridden. And sometimes, not even then.

“They were used as fodder during the ancient war, and their Tol, used in combination with their rider, powered destruction and atrocity. When their Tol was finally consumed, their minds shattered, and they became Gastrok, the dead ones. The Gastrok mindlessly attacked anyone in an insatiable need to feed, desperately trying to replenish their Tol. Something, which could never be.

“I will not fight you to do this, nor will I use you so callously. You have to offer up control of yourself for this to work because I will not fight you to dominate. That is evil and wrong, and I will not dare to go down that path. If you even have the slightest bit of doubt, this will not work. But if you are willing to try, then I am willing to try also, to protect you and your father.

“Knowing all of this, are you still willing to try?”

Tommy thought about it for a long time as the sounds of the ondilaan picked up again. Saress quickly turned her head as a loud whooOOP came from somewhere to the south. The sounds of the twanging of bow shots could be heard coming from the barn.

With rising awareness, Tommy realized he had a responsibility to help if he could. If that meant giving himself up, he would. He thought about the wounded men around him who would be able to fight and protect the village ... if only he could help, and that thought awoke something inside. And as he realized that, he remembered his unspoken vow to his da’.

He wouldn’t let him down.

With growing resolve, he nodded to Ari who’d been watching his thoughts cross his face. She bit her lip, then took a deep breath letting it out slowly through her nose. She ignored Saress readying an arrow, and the shouts coming from outside.

“I’m going to explain what I’m doing so it doesn’t alarm you. Camm is asleep because it is easier to enter a being when they are unconscious. There are reasons for this, but they are not important now. What is important is that this will be easier when he’s asleep.

“I think it’s fair to tell you that I’ve never done this before. As far as I’m aware, no one from the college has done this before. Nor has anyone for thousands of years, so be mindful of that.

“And this is considered evil and taboo by my people. I’m only considering it because of the desperate need we are in. If you weren’t my child and we hadn’t shared Tol as much as we have, it most likely wouldn’t work. But we will try.

“Up until now, I’ve wrapped your Tol with my own in the Tol’An, allowing us both to experience everything as equals. What I’m going to try to do now is much different. I will still be wrapping up your Tol with my own, but I will be seizing ahold of it, and cutting your mind off from your core. You will probably only be able to experience what I allow, and nothing more.

“I read the only surviving account of someone being ridden by another while studying an ancient tome to learn the an’tor. What I read from that ancient mage is that it’s like being cut off from existence, but that tome was burned and incomplete. Is this still something you want to do?”

Tommy nodded again, glancing towards the increasing sounds of combat from the window. Hurried orders and screams could now be heard, mixed with the calls of the ondilaan.

“All right. I will try,” she said, finally glancing towards the window herself. “Allow me to enter just like we have done before, and remain passive. I will not fight you, and will instantly release you if you resist.”

He clasped his hands with hers.

Saress watched them from the window, an absolute pillar of conflicting emotions. She waged a war within herself over their need and her training. The training which taught her to instantly kill anyone who even so much as discussed attempting what they were about to do. But everyone in the village would die if they did not. And from what she could see, the enemy numbers were easily as great as they had been before.

Saliantrea had lied to her ilari, saying the an’tor would only injure. It killed most who even attempted it, and the shock of attempting another would surely kill her as well. Saress had been stunned Saliantrea could perform it; let alone by herself, remain standing, and heal for the rest of the night as well. To witness such power in one mage was mind-boggling. She was a tremendous asset to the Vale, and Saress had pledged an oath to herself to guard Arisaylia from that moment forward.

Though ancient texts described the an’tor being done alone, it normally needed three or more to raise the power according to the teachings of her order. And even then, it was common for one of those attempting it to die. There was no way another could be performed. Their only salvation would be for her two charges to heal the men, so they could reinforce the troops defending the village. A healing would only pull gradually from their Tol; something barely within their ability as far as she could tell.

But they could not perform the healing without Arisaylia becoming something so utterly taboo that just talking about it put one instantly under suspicion. There was no doubt in Saress’s mind that this was evil. The stories of the atrocities made her duty clear. But she was torn: Arisaylia and Tomilanthus were both good people.

Both of them selflessly gave of themselves before requesting anything from another. And Arisaylia had ilari with Donnor, a love that would limit any impulses that might arise from this horrific act. She’d made that point abundantly clear only moments ago, finally sharing the secret of their bond. That they were tied together. Forever.

The watcher will not be pleased.

Saress resigned herself to allow this to happen, biting her lip. Deliberately turning her thoughts away, she raised her bow, taking aim at the ondilaan charging from the treeline in the distance. The fact that someday she may need to kill these two she’d come to care so much about, haunted her.

I will do this, Tommy declared in his mind, utterly unaware of Saress’s inner turmoil. He felt Ari’s familiar Tol questing out to find his own, strangely at peace with this decision. He trusted her, utterly. Their Tol met inside of him somewhere near his heart, and he felt her wrapping around him. But there was a strange tone to her Tol, requiring something of him that made him feel uneasy.

And exposed.

Her Tol continued to intertwine with his, deadening his senses, and that strange feeling increased. It became dark and threatening, like the sky before a storm. He instructed himself just to sit back and relax, to just observe, and let go. But there was something inside of him that did not want to let go.

Something deep within his very being reared up in response to her working, becoming aware. Ari’s Tol wrapped tighter about him, unnatural and threatening as he moved to fight down whatever had awoken. But moving against it only caused whatever it was to stiffen its resolve, determined to stop what was happening from taking place. His smoky Tol that was normally only a mist inside of him, grew into a raging thundercloud lit from within by echoing, golden strikes of light.

So, he tried another tactic and started talking to it, this part of him that refused. He whispered and stroked, comforted and cajoled, reaffirming that this was Ari. That this was okay. And though he was able to calm this unknown thing inside of him that was part of his Tol, it refused to back down. It seemed to refuse to accept his desire to let go, pacing to and fro in agitation as it watched her.

Tommy tried to convey this was something he wanted to do, the desperate need of the wounded to be healed. But it did not listen. It swelled around Ari’s Tol, the thundercloud growing in blackness, the flashes, threatening.

Tommy somehow knew an attack was looming, but didn’t know how to convey that this was Ari he was giving up control to. No matter how he tried to convince it, this thing inside him only grew. He internally wept in frustration that this thing would not relent. That he wanted to help. That he did not want to let anyone down.

That this was his mother it was about to attack.

But this time, the thing did listen. And at the declaration of Arisaylia as his mother, this thing inside of him stopped and froze. It retreated slightly, ceasing to grow its potential any further. Whatever it was, it probed his mind for everything he knew about Arisaylia. Everything he’d ever said and done. Every comment they’d ever exchanged. Every picture of her in his mind.

His memory of his first sight of her when she came to the village plastered across his consciousness in vivid detail. Her haunted eyes taking him in while holding her belly, swollen with pregnancy. The welling of tears as she caught sight of his da’ walking up while holding hands with his mum. This image was probed and prodded from all angles, then every interaction since in a dizzying whirlwind of imagery, before settling on his memory of their sharing of Tol while saying goodbye to Di’ii ... and the dark clouds surrounding her hands.

Then, the thing inside of him calmed, and became still.

Only fractions of a second had passed since all of this had begun, and Ari’s Tol was still wrapping around his own as he became aware of his surroundings once more. He felt this thing rise up and inspect him with an almost alien awareness, examining his thoughts and his surroundings in intricate detail. It surrounded Ari’s pressing Tol in a writhing smoky tempest, probing and analyzing her with scintillating golden bursts of light as she continued her work, totally unaware of the judgement underway. It seemed to come to an agreement with his conscious mind that Arisaylia, mother, he felt it acknowledge, could be given control. And it slowly returned to wherever it had come from, as if it had never been.

Tommy was stunned at what he had just experienced. He was about to interrupt what they were doing, to tell Ari what he had seen, when her Tol finished whatever she was commanding it to do. Suddenly, his ability to control any part of himself ended, and his awareness blinked off.

And all conscious thought ceased to be as this thing they had committed themselves to, began.

Dwarven Tactics

Well, tha’ bastards be back.

Mikus resigned himself to the coming battle in the night as he formed up the southern defenders into the new formation he had taught them. There were eleven of them this time standing at the southern edge of the village, including the loggers. The ondilaan started cackling and gesturing with their weapons with increasing ferocity.

If only I be havin’ ranks from tha’ host. Ah, well. He sighed. At least I be havin’ Karn an’ Turred.

The two were trained defenders of their clan, and after comparing notes, they realized their training was basically the same as his. Remembering his days in the army of his clanhold, he decided on a variant of a formation the three of them knew. With two spears on either side giving cover, the three dwarves in the middle could counter a charge with one of their own. And he hoped it would be a rude surprise to the bastards babbling away at the edge of the trees.

He heard calls from the east and glanced that way, but couldn’t see anything. He could see the family of loggers though. They exited their home and took up station around it along the southern side, looking out through the open walls of the tannery.

Must be something over there as well. Wish I could see it.

“Ya’ think they be comin’?” Turred asked.

“I dunno. They be makin’ enough noise ta’,” he replied as another series of calls started somewhere to the north. He listened for a while as the calls dwindled, watching the ondilaan before him dance and leap, their cackling increasing.

At least we be havin’ a day ta’ rest.

Whatever Arisaylia had done had put the fear of the maker into them, and they’d heard neither high nor low from them for about a day. They wouldn’t have that kind of help this time, though. Donnor had passed on that her and the boy would be down till at least tomorrow, and be weak at that. And no more battle magic to boot.

Ah well, canna’ be havin’ a pansy elf savin’ our arses more than once. I’d never be hearin’ tha’ end o’ it, he thought with a wry grin.

A couple more ondilaani warriors joined the ones already in front of them. Jumping and cavorting about.

They really be stirrin’ themselves up.

“Might want ta’ be payin’ attention now. They be gettin’ fired up,” he told the men around him. They tightened their grip on their weapons but did nothing more; there was nothing more to be done. They’d been ready for a day.

He had ten men with him, besides himself, covering the entire southern side of the village if he included the four loggers over there. Keris had let him know that the archers had broken a hole in the thatching of the barn so a few could fire his way, but that wouldn’t help that much, and they both knew it. He could only do what he could with what he had. And, he figured he’d be falling back to the barn or the inn soon enough if another attack like that first one happened again.

At least tha’ moons be up.

More warriors were now in sight, and they were getting themselves worked up into a fury too. He was considering sending a runner when a loud whooOOP sounded from the west. The cackling there rose in pitch accompanied by the distant sounds of running feet.

A charge ...

He was about to order his men to turn when the ondilaan in front of him charged as well. They leaped from the woodline in ever-increasing numbers, accompanied by many quick whooOOPs!

Damn.

He didn’t have any more time to worry about the people at the barn as he bellowed out, “READY!” The men around him snapped their weapons towards the charging warriors. Nalin started panting.

It was always moments like this that he started thinking the damndest things. He’d forgotten to tie the knot on the right side of his pack and wondered if the waterskin had fallen out.

Who be thinkin abou’ things like tha’?

He heard muffled shouting from the barn and then a loud thumping from inside. He recognized the sounds of the correts as they kicked the walls of their stall, most likely startled by the noise.

I wonder if they be breakin’ down tha’ door this time, he mused, remembering how they had almost done it just days before.

“GET READY!”

One of the charging warriors took an arrow through his forehead, killing him instantly. Two or three others tumbled to the ground as they tripped over his falling body.

“BRACE!” he yelled as the four spears in his formation set themselves for the charge. But as they settled their weight, Mikus, Karn, and Turred readied themselves to offer the ondilaan a rude surprise.

See, the dwarves had long ago accepted that they would always be the ones being charged. They didn’t like it, but there was just no way they could run from someone whose legs were twice as long as theirs. Never a race to deny reality, they accepted it and moved on.

What they realized, after thinking about it for a while, was that people who were charging couldn’t stop so well. And if you ran into them in return, hitting them below the waist with your dense dwarven body, it did something wonderful. It caused the charging enemy to fly over your head uncontrollably, and sometimes even broke their legs and knees in the process. Since most dwarves were naturally at this waist height requirement, it just seemed downright unneighborly not to use such a tactic to defend against someone twice their size.

So, as the ondilaani warriors reached about two spear lengths away from the line ready to receive their charge, something they weren’t expecting occurred. Mikus, Karn, and Turred screamed and charged straight at the oncoming warriors, striking them with their bodies and shields at about the height of the warrior’s thighs. The leading warriors suddenly found themselves flailing their arms as they went flying over the heads of the dwarves into the readied spears of the line. And they died, pierced through, all the while wondering what had occurred.

The three dwarves continued their charge until stopped by the weight of the bodies around them, then lashed out with the axes they’d kept tucked in, close to their sides. In the ensuing chaos, they managed to kill or wound many before they even knew that the dwarves were in their midst. But by then, the damage was done, and the charge of the ondilaan was broken.

Tak, Nalin, and Folt, were the spears behind them, along with Canner from rank two. Three halflings and a human didn’t seem like they would be a deadly force, and considering the size difference between the ondilaan, dwarves, and halflings, it made sense for the ondilaan to charge. There was only one being as big as themselves after all, and that lone human wouldn’t be much of an obstacle.

But as the ondilaan were sent flying and wound up slamming into the ground behind the charging dwarves, all that the members of the troop had to do was stab, and stab again. And with every stab, another ondilaan was wounded or died.

A humongous impact shook Mikus’s shield as an ondilaan lashed out with some sort of serrated cleaver, almost as long as Mikus was tall. Karn was clearing his axe as Turred lashed out with his, downing a reckless warrior by removing its leg at the knee. Blood sprayed across them from the spurting stump as Karn lashed out while Turred cleared his axe, having fallen into the rhythm of dwarven fighting pairs. They fought together as one unit, covering each other, and striking in the rhythm of the battle chant they shouted in defiance to the enemy. The ondilaan got in the periodic strike against them, but it was obvious the pair wouldn’t easily be taken down.

The huge warrior prepared another strike as Mikus dodged, unwilling to take another blow like the first that would surely shatter his shield. The spears behind him were advancing, still killing downed warriors as they went. Nalin was screaming his fury at the enemy as he killed over and over again, veins sticking out of his head and neck in his rage.

The warrior in front of Mikus made a low grunting cackle, and the warriors around it changed course and kept running towards his men, avoiding him. Figuring this one was in charge, Mikus lashed out with his axe which it dodged, and their combat turned into a duel.

This warrior was taller than the rest and looked odd, until he realized he’d slammed his shield into her breasts. She snarled and snapped out with her jaws, Mikus narrowly dodging the bite as she followed up with a strike he parried. She fought with an animal cunning, ruthlessly using her whole body as a weapon as she lashed out with a clawed foot seeking to disembowel him, forcing him to tumble away.

As he rolled to his feet another strike from her cleaver lashed out that he narrowly blocked with his shield. Seeing an opening, Mikus jabbed out with the head of his axe, catching her in the gut and making her grunt, giving him a moment to set before the next exchange of blows began. Reaching down, she tried to grab ahold of his axe but he twisted the blade, pulling sharply, and lopped off one of her fingers in the process. She howled loudly, lashing out in a flurry of blows he struggled to counter before he heard his shield begin creaking from the strain.

I canna’ take much more o’ this ...

He desperately changed tactics and went fully on the offensive, lashing out recklessly. His strikes made her dance away, giving him a moment’s respite. She paused a few strides from him, letting out a tremendous growl, eyeing him hungrily, drool dripping from her maw as she circled. Then suddenly an arrow shot straight past her head, causing her to flinch away, giving him the moment he needed.

Tha’ crazy bastards be shootin’ inta’ combat!

Mikus whipped his axe around, striking her in the knee, severing her leg in a spray of gore. He turned his axe, looping it around in an arc over his shoulder to maintain its momentum as he followed her down with it as she fell. She glared one last look of defiance into his eyes before he buried his axe in her face, splitting her head in two.

He turned around, realizing the archers from the barn had come through for him. He watched as one of the sprites leaned out from the hole in the thatch and shot seemingly straight at him, killing another warrior on his left.

Prob’ly Dap ... Bugger me ...

He glanced towards his men, realizing they were all still alive. The last of the ondilaani warriors was being skewered by Nalin who was still screaming his defiance and fury at the enemy. Mikus blinked, not believing their luck. He let out a celebratory “HUZAA,” raising his axe in the air. Then he heard the crash of another charge being met and realized the battle wasn’t over. Swinging his head sharply to the east, he saw the loggers receiving a charge from behind the barrier there.

“TO ME! FOLLOW ME!”

Mikus sprinted to help the logger family against this new threat. He could hear his men running behind him so he slowed, so they could attack as a whole. Karn and Turred positioned themselves beside him, chanting a battle hymn.

“CHARGE!” Mikus bellowed as he came within a few feet of the ondilaan.

The warriors were pushing the loggers back, already having broken through the barriers in front of their home and mingling with the defenders there. But Mikus didn’t slow in the least as he ran headlong into the mob, his dwarven brethren at his side. They hit them at waist height, bowling everyone down as they went.

Again they lashed out as they slowed, this time all three working together as if they were just parts of a single machine, reaping all who came before them. Spears flashed out over their heads, taking warriors unaware, and creating openings for them to exploit.

And they did so, with ruthless efficiency.

But in the confusion one of the enemies got a hit on Karn, and he fell screaming as another warrior crashed down on top of him. Everyone was shouting in a cacophony of defiance and fury as the men of the troop fought their way to the loggers, repelling the charge against them.

Mikus spotted another huge female who dodged a spear only to be taken in the side by a logger. The tremendous strike from the man split her body below one of her breasts as if she was a tree. She wailed as she fell, the logger stumbling forward as her body ripped the axe from his hands. In the spray of gore, Mikus noticed the other warriors flinching away from the man and his impressive display of strength.

“THEY BE BREAKIN’! FIGHT!”

He continued to strike out with his axe in an even tempo with Turred, shouting his chant. Mikus heard a scream from behind him, and then another, but he had no time to look as the battle continued all around. A flash of teeth, the strike of an axe, then a parried sword with a strike in return was how their combat continued. It was an orgy of destruction leaving no time to think, and only split seconds to react. Eventually, he realized their combat was winding down, and he could see warriors fleeing before him.

In his bloodlust, Mikus launched his axe with both hands at one of the fleeing ondilaan, striking it in the back, perfectly centered over its spine. The force of the blow knocking it off its feet and it fell to the ground with his axe still embedded in its corpse. Mikus, now weaponless, drew his dagger and looked around, scowling and ready for battle. But there were no more enemies in range, and nowhere left to strike.

He looked at his men amidst the corpses and realized that there were only three of the troop left on their feet. Turred silenced the whining of a warrior with an axe to its skull, while Nalin continued to stab a limp corpse over and over again. Tak grabbed him, yelling “Stop!” while shaking Nalin hard enough to rattle his teeth. Two of the loggers beside him stared around wide-eyed at the remains of the slaughter before them.

Mikus heaved a great sigh of satisfaction at still being alive, and started thanking his ancestors before being interrupted by more screams in the distance. Looking back towards the barn, he could see a mass of ondilaani warriors surrounding it. They were slamming themselves against the doors attempting to gain access to the defenders within. The archers in the loft were shooting down into the throng below as quickly as they could, but nothing could stop the flow of the enemy past the barn surging into the village.

That was when he noticed fire arrows flashing up from the western treeline, and he gathered his remaining men to reenter the fray.

“TO ME!”

The Final Thrust

Donnor heard the charge to the south but there was nothing he could do about it. He had problems of his own.

He dodged a strike from the warrior on his left as he spun his spear at shoulder height, catching the ondilaan next to it in the eye with its tip. As the warrior fell screaming, he used that moment to leap backward and block another strike coming in from the horde in front of him.

Keris was somewhere to his right, but he’d lost track of him a moment ago in the chaos of battle. Gart thrust out and skewered one of the ondilaani warriors as Donnor knocked a swipe to the side with his shield. Beran stumbled and fell, knocked to the ground by the immense impact of a studded club to the head. Blood flew from the ondilaan’s neck as Donnor finished off Beran’s attacker, unable to save the spearman’s life as Talius moved forward to take Beran’s place.

There he is.

A break in combat revealed Keris, and Donnor watched him strike out and skewer a warrior before blocking another blow with his shield. The ondilaan had again used one charge to draw attention away before striking from another direction. This time they used whatever cunning they’d had to attack in the worst possible direction they could: between the barn and the shack, where no defenses or barriers were.

He had been in the shack with Keris, watching the few ondilaan there posturing when the charge started. There was no call, no noise, no signal at all preceding the flow of ondilaani warriors bursting from the treeline in front of them. There was only a single loud exultant whooOOP after they were almost halfway there.

He instantly realized what they were attempting to do, gathered the men, and ran back into the village screaming for the archers to start shooting into the throng. The ondilaan were trying to bypass his position and get into the center of the village where they could run amok from the inside. There were so many of them charging in, that the archers would hit something no matter where they aimed. But the arrows didn’t do much, unfortunately.

“TO THE WEST!”

He hoped his screamed command was heard as he set his men between two houses, narrowing the available space they could be attacked from. His call caught the oncoming warriors’ attention and they changed direction, heading straight for them, which was good for the village, though bad for him.

Keris called out “BRACE!” right before the enemy struck. They slammed into the men, bowling over Merret who still hadn’t figured out how to brace his feet. Then the blood sprayed out, and the killing began.

Another strike lashed out in front Donnor, immediately followed by another from his side. Donnor realized the enemy was getting smarter; two of them attacking him at once. But he blocked the blows, spinning his spear in a dizzying pattern before lashing out with its tip, slicing one of them through its neck. As the body fell, the other one tried to tackle him but he dodged away, striking it across its head with the butt of his spear. He continued his spin, stabbing it straight through its back as the warrior fell prostrate before him.

While this was going on, Ladig had one hand on Merret’s collar dragging him out from under another warrior, desperately yelling at him to get on his feet. Gart stood over them both, roaring defiance into the faces of the oncoming hoard as Talius scrambled to his side.

Donnor took a moment, then noticed a new group of warriors charging in from their flank. “KERIS, LOOK OUT!”

Leaping forward, Donnor ran to Keris’s side preparing to meet this new threat. The two gnomes followed along behind, Merret stumbling from a bleeding wound on his leg. Gart and Talius grunted, working in concert to cover their retreat.

The ondilaan fought ferociously, but only as individuals. There was no coordination to their attacks as they threw themselves into the fray, almost reveling in the slaughter. More than one had tried to bite him, and he’d learned to become wary of their teeth and claws as the combat continued.

Some charged in unnervingly with their masculinity erect, and that was something he’d never seen before, and desperately hoped never to see again. Without thinking, Donnor lopped one of the bits off as he spun, and that creature fell howling in agony to the ground before they were separated by the ongoing battle. “THE INN! BACK TO THE INN!” Donnor screamed as he covered Keris while moving backwards himself.

Another warrior struck out, this time tangling up his spear before lashing out with its fist, striking him in the face. The warrior was suddenly pierced by a spear as Talius got in a hit, giving Donnor a chance to recover. Then a warrior wielding a massive two-handed club burst out of the throng before him.

That’s not a club; that’s a tree!

The huge piece of wood and roots whistled by his head, striking another warrior when it failed to connect. The unfortunate warrior went flying through the air from the force of the blow, and Donnor realized that there was no way he’d ever be able to take a hit from that. “ARCHERS!” he screamed, hoping they understood to shoot the enormous warrior in front of him.

But they must not have heard, because no shots came as he desperately dodged the next swing of the tree whistling by. He took a chance and glanced over towards the barn, and his heart sunk. Warriors were pounding on the western door, while others struck at it with axes and swords trying to break through. Then the tree whistled by his head again, snapping his attention back to the warrior in front of him.

Not even trying to block the attack, he ducked and dodged, waiting for the next incoming strike. After it passed, he lashed out with his spear catching the warrior in the knee, severing something vital and knocking him to the ground. Ladig took the opportunity to stab out, skewering the creature in its shoulder before he was forced back by another warrior striking out in return.

Talius came from Donnor’s left, thrusting at the warrior focusing on Ladig while Gart bellowed a guttural cry from behind. Donnor turned, seeing Gart standing over Merrett, holding an ondilaan above his head in both hands, before he slammed the warrior down with bone-crushing force. Merrett stabbed it before scrambling away, as Gart took up his spear once more, screaming his rage in the face of the enemy pouring in around them.

“The inn! Back to the inn!” Donnor shouted, taking another warrior in the stomach, disemboweling it with his move.

“We are!” Keris yelled. He grunted, shoving a warrior off his spear with his shield. “The gnomes are already set! Move!” He ran while Donnor followed him across the path. The two gnomes and their human partner were there killing a warrior at the corner of the inn with Gart at their side.

The waiting men’s eyes widened, watching the rushing horde over Donnor’s shoulder. Arrows started to strike from above as the hunters shot past their heads into the enemy. And as he joined the waiting squad, Donnor managed to spin and set himself, before a group of the enemy immediately slammed into them, without a care for their lives. The warriors were snarling, almost seeming as if they desired to tear the spears from their grasp with their bodies as they were impaled.

Donnor cleared his spear and started to lead in the spinning dance of death as his ondilaani partners fell before him. Thrust, spin, stab, block, dodge, spin, cut, strike, it continued, turning into a blur of slaughter that destroyed any who approached. He was in that state where his whole being was centered in concentration around him to the exclusion of all else. The battle lust had awakened, his fury released as he noticed the enemy pouring by. But he paid them no mind. He knew even the smallest mistake on his part would end with his death with the numbers arrayed against them.

Suddenly, there was the rapid staccato T-T-T-T-T-THWACK of multiple arrows striking the enemy from their flank. Whoever the archers were, their fire was rapid and accurate as another five shots struck in unison into the enemy moments later, felling another handful of their number. Donnor realized he could distantly hear calls of “READY” and “LOOSE” from somewhere on the other side of the inn, but he couldn’t tell who it was. Whoever they were, he appreciated the help as he continued to dance and spin, desperately working to stop the enemy from pouring into the center of the village behind him.

“DONNOR! SOUTH!” Keris screamed.

Donnor saw ondilaan streaming past the barn and heading down the main village street directly towards the front door of the inn. As the last of the ondilaan before him fell, he realized the enemy that had been pressing them so sorely had turned to avoid the mass fire of the archers. The hunters’ shots from above continued, as did the massed fire of the unknown archers behind the inn, accompanied by the screams of the ondilaan. But, for the moment, there were no more enemy before them.

“TURN! PROTECT THE INN!”

He, Keris, and the four remaining spears, turned and watched as Sergeant Moran appeared, leading the men from the bridge, and charged past the inn into the onrushing warriors, screaming all the way. The two forces collided with a shattering crash as both ondilaani and human warriors died instantly in their lust to destroy one another. Moran lashed out with his sword left and right, taking lives, and protecting his men as best as he could.

“CHARGE!”

Donnor’s remaining men entered the fray, taking the first few warriors in total surprise as they were utterly focused on Moran’s forces before them. Arrows rained down into the chaos, striking the ondilaan and taking their lives indiscriminately, easing the burden on the defending warriors of the troop.

Here and there an arrow took one through the eye, or another through the ear, confirming to him that Saress was alive and well. As Donnor spun and wove through the enemy he could only pray that Ari and Tommy were safe as well, since they’d been drugged and unconscious last he’d seen. With his thoughts on protecting his beloved and their son, he struck out with new determination and fury, eclipsing his efforts from before.

He had been wounded at some point. A gash on his arm was causing blood to run over his hands, but he tightened his grip and fought on. Merret was nowhere to be seen, then he heard a scream and saw Ladig fall. Keris fought on to his left, stabbing out like a madman, doing his best to protect the gnome. He succeeded, his spear entering the throat of the attacker before him.

A falling corpse caused Donnor to stumble and fall, but Moran’s men covered him as he scrambled back on all fours. The enemy, sensing weakness, pressed forward as one, trying to bring down this warrior that had struck so many of their own down. But no matter what they did, they could not reach him. Donnor dodged away, and as he struggled to his feet the most reckless of them pressed their assault. Taking an arrow in the throat for its trouble, it tripped up those who were following behind in a tangle of ondilaani limbs.

There was a loud grunting laugh, and a new warrior appeared before him, larger than the rest. This one was covered with scars, watching him with a predatory air. Its visage was horribly disfigured by some past battle, a torn ear and a mass of scars tracking diagonally across its face.

He lashed out with his spear which it dodged, before countering with a strike of its own from its claws that he blocked to the side. Unexpectedly it lunged forward, snapping at his face with its jaws, forcing him to jump backward to avoid a horrible bite. And it used its momentum to lash out at Talius with its claws, catching him in his side and ripping him open. Talius fell with a blood-curdling scream as Donnor jumped back into the fray with a vengeance, searching for this indiscriminate killer. But the press of battle had separated them, and he could see that warrior no more.

More and more men went down, until they were being pressed back onto the main street at the corner of the inn. At least there’s no way around us anymore. The buildings are funneling them in.

He now fought beside one of Moran’s conscripts, spinning and dropping another warrior. The dying warrior managed to grab his shield on its way down, tearing it from his arm. Donnor, now shieldless, continued to dance and spin. His spear a whirlwind in both hands, barely able to be seen as he blocked and thrust around him. Then Donnor heard a loud crash from somewhere around the barn, and the jubilant sounds of the ondilaan rose up in celebration.

The inevitable had happened; they had broken through.

Panicked cries were coming from inside the barn, but there was nothing anyone could do as the ondilaan rushed in. Donnor could hear the cries of the villagers within, desperately defending the archers above, as he fought another warrior before him. Then, in further insult, arrows of fire arced out of the starlit sky, landing on and around the barn. As the thatch of the roof burst into flame, the glow lit the fields to the west, exposing the remaining ondilaan as another volley of flaming arrows flew in.

Seeing them, Donnor’s heart sank, for he could not see their end. The enemy poured in, bypassing the now breached barn as they cackled and whooOOP’d while they came. He watched as Gart swung out one of his huge, meaty fists, clubbing a warrior in the snout before scrambling back from the charging throng. He covered Gart when he stumbled, blocking a strike as one of Moran’s men killed the creature before two more took its place. Donnor was about to order a retreat to the inn, when something utterly unexpected happened.

Another barrage of fire arrows had arced in towards the village, but fate caused a few of them to land slightly off course to the south. A thunderous, bellowing cry, followed by a tremendous crash, came from south of the barn, then some immense force slammed into the ondilaan gathered there. Donnor continued fighting for his life, trying to see what was happening, fearing some new enemy, when the press of the warriors around him broke for a moment and he suddenly understood.

They had shot an artock.

The artocks charged into the fray in a panicked state, bowling over anyone and everything before them. One of them had a flaming arrow sticking out of its hindquarter, a streamer of flame following it wherever it went. The wounded animal was bellowing in panic and pain, furious as it charged to and fro, trying to escape the offending arrow burning it. But it’s panicked charge only fanned the flames higher. And the other two animals, spooked by the first, accompanied it charging through the ondilaan, utterly flattening everything in their way.

The ondilaan before them were crushed instantly into goo. The rest suddenly skidded to a halt, desperately trying to get out of the artocks way as the rampage continued. Donnor saw one warrior foolishly meet an artock’s charge with his spear, and all he saw after the impact was the remains of the spear go flying over the roof of the barn with the force of the impact.

The men around him used their momentary respite to gather into some semblance of a formation, once again preparing to meet the enemy. The ondilaan were returning to battle when Mikus and the remnants of his force charged in from the south. He was bellowing out a dwarven chant, leading his few remaining men into the remainder of the enemy the artock’s charge had missed. His axe lashed out indiscriminately, clearing the eastern door of the barn.

The western side was aflame as the remaining villagers poured out of the now cleared eastern doorway, followed by the archers. Then the gnome Gorim, the last of the escaping archers, was knocked down by the correts as they too panicked and bolted from the burning structure. The out-of-control birds charged into the recovering ondilaan in their frantic attempts to escape the flames. Their beady red eyes seemed to fixate on individual warriors in the darkness, and they lashed out with their immensely powerful legs, disemboweling any that got in their way. They charged straight past the inn, cutting a swath of destruction diagonally through the enemy as they sprinted away to the north.

“PUSH THEM! PUSH!” Donnor screamed.

Realizing they now had a chance to retake lost ground, Donnor led the way into the enemy formation with renewed vigor. He felled two of them who were still stunned, watching the animals flee. Keris appeared on his right and they struck out together, killing as they went and advancing towards the barn. Then the scarred warrior appeared again, striking Keris across the face with a backhanded blow, knocking him completely off his feet.

“Keris!” Donnor screamed as he lashed out at the scarred warrior, missing it completely as it dodged to the side.

The scarred warrior pressed him sorely. He dodged strike after strike, realizing it was female by the multiple dangling breasts that flopped limply on her chest as she spun. He lashed out with his spear but missed again as she dodged away, her axe glinting in the light of the burning barn.

Villagers charged past on his left but he couldn’t take time to watch, ducking a wild swing from her axe. Donnor stabbed out, but pulled his strike as she dodged; then spun, striking out at her foot. He connected this time with the butt of his spear in a powerful blow, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones.

The warrior howled in pain, her scars stretching, standing out in stark relief as she balefully glared. She immediately struck out with her fist, catching him with a glancing blow on his shoulder, knocking him backward and almost off his feet. As he struggled to regain his balance, he stabbed out again but she did the impossible; she caught his spear.

Then pulled it from him.

Now weaponless, he drew his knife and lowered himself defensively. The scarred female warrior limped towards him, throwing his spear to the side as if casting away a toy. He watched Gart go down behind her, bowled over by a warrior protecting her back. Ladig stabbed the warrior standing over Gart while the female laughed, stalking Donnor, a stream of drool slathering from her lips.

An arrow appeared in her shoulder as she twisted aside, howling her fury at something above and behind him. Then she lunged, snarling, her arms spread wide, her jaws agape.

Donnor dodged to his side, desperately trying to get out of the way, but she caught him anyway with the tips of her claws. As she started to pull him in, he lashed out repeatedly with his knife, piercing her arm more than once, but she refused to let go. With a deep guttural laugh she opened her jaws wide enough to encompass his head, the foul reek of her breath wafting over him, before an arrow miraculously appeared protruding from her throat and she collapsed down on top of him.

Donnor was struggling to free himself from underneath her corpse when Mikus grabbed ahold of him, all but flinging him to his feet. “Get in tha’ fight!” Mikus bellowed.

The dwarf turned, removing the hand from another warrior rushing in that had gotten too close. Donnor scrambled to find a weapon, tearing a spear from a dead conscript’s hand while the combat continued all around him. A scream caught his attention, and he looked up to see an ondilaan tearing an arm from one of the villagers, before leaning in and crushing the villager’s throat with its jaws.

Donnor, now armed, took position with Mikus and the killing began in earnest. They had not fought together in decades, but the panic and fury of combat brought back old memories as they fell into a rhythm they had perfected long ago. Mikus stood fast, stopping the enemy from advancing while Donnor lashed out from above in a dizzying array of strikes, killing any and all before them. Mikus then used the space Donnor had cleared to relentlessly stride forward in an unstoppable advance as the warriors before them tumbled and fell. Donnor continued lashing out, killing any who dared to challenge them. But no matter how many the two of them killed, there seemed to always be more.

Donnor had just blocked an incoming strike, while Mikus lashed out at the offender and killed it for its affront. “I don’ think we be doin’ so well,” Mikus panted out, gasping for breath.

“Why not?” Donnor grunted as he thrust, taking another ondilaan in the gut as he spun to block another strike.

“They still be comin’,” Mikus growled in reply as he took a powerful blow to his shield, forcing him to his knees.

Donnor slashed that one across the throat and looked beyond the dying warrior at the enemy arrayed before them. Mikus was right, they were still coming. But he couldn’t stop now. Not with Ari and Tommy unconscious in the inn. He couldn’t leave them.

He continued to fight as the line of men between the buildings dwindled, and the press of the ondilaan grew worse. Donnor didn’t know how many of his men were left now, but it was much less than it had been before. His men were fighting in ones and twos, with sometimes double their number of warriors against them.

He watched as Moran recklessly lashed out with his sword, baring his back to the throng to protect one of his own. Moran took a tremendous swipe in return, his armor luckily protecting him as he struggled against falling, then went back-to-back with his man.

Donnor killed his most recent opponent, and his heart was falling. They were close to the end. Too many were lost. Too many were dead. He was about to sound the retreat when the clarion call of hope sounded from behind him.

“READY!”

He dodged; some kind of wicked blade whistling by his head as he tried to turn.

“CHARGE!”

Then an entirely fresh troop of men charged by, screaming into the fray. The ondilaan were completely unprepared to receive the charge, already caught up in combat as they were. Knocked to the ground, they were slaughtered by the charging men.

A new cry went up as the men from the troop killed them: “THE LADY! THE LADY!” repeated over and over as they fought.

Donnor stopped, standing in shocked silence as another cry went out. “READY!” followed quickly by “LOOSE!” as a stream of arrows entered the mass of ondilaan from the south. Another cry of “LOOSE!” sounded moments later, followed by more arrows striking in from the north. And in a short time of gore and bloodshed, the area from the inn to the barn was cleared of the enemy. Then the ondilaan were pushed further out of the village to the west by the screaming men.

Sergeant Oldsby appeared at his side. “Commander! Come on, sir! Help us push them out!” he yelled as he ran off with some of the armed villagers into the fray.

Donnor looked down at Mikus who returned his look, both shocked to the core. They recognized this new formation of men was made up of the wounded from the inn, but how they were here was a mystery. He looked to the window where his love and his son were supposed to be and saw Saress leaning out, loosing arrows at the ondilaan; most likely killing one with every shot she took.

He looked back to the fight.

“TROOP!” He shook himself into action. “CHARGE!”

“BEAT THEM BACK!”

And following his orders, he led the charge of the men back into the fray.

Epilogue

Donnor sat on the rock beside his son, casting his line out into the burbling stream. The sky was clear, the sun warming their backs as they sat in companionable silence enjoying the day.

A bird called out from a tree nearby, launching itself into the air and chasing a bug till it caught it. Then it returned to its perch quite pleased with itself, preening its feathers in satisfaction.

Donnor looked out across the stream to the fields, curious what was going on there. He watched a group of farmers harvesting the remaining wheat in the fields, loading it onto the carts to be taken up to the mill when they were done. He was glad some of it remained.

It had been close to a fortnight since the battle had been won, and the village was slowly returning to normal. There was no saving the barn or the other burned structures, but what could be fixed was being repaired. What could be mended was being cobbled back together. And what could not be saved was being torn down and rebuilt. Overall, the village had fared rather well, with most of the buildings surviving the battle. But the blasted remains where the fires were the hottest, scarred the otherwise bucolic scene.

Hammering from the new smithy being built behind them accompanied those thoughts, and he turned catching sight of his friend. Mikus had befriended the village smith and convinced the other two dwarves to help him rebuild his smithy. The four of them were over there gathered around a table, talking about this or that thing, and the exact placement of everything in the forge. The slightest bit of alteration to the design sparking an intense debate into the pros and cons of whatever minutiae of forging metal they were concerned about. They were so intent about it, he laughed.

A horn sounded from somewhere in the distance to the east, catching his attention. The bridge guard sent a runner back to the inn, which was still their command post, and had turned into the village center; as well as the hospital, supply point, bunk area, kitchen, repair center, and any other thing you could think of. Mr. Tarr had worked tirelessly with everyone, becoming a great leader to his people. His family had too, laboring long hours alongside him in the effort to help the village recover from the attack.

Tommy looked at him questioningly but Donnor shrugged, so they put the horn out of their minds and went back to fishing. It was Moran’s day to be in charge, and Donnor had no doubt Moran would send for him if he was needed. A call went out to the men practicing and drilling in the northern fields. They responded, forming up in front of the inn at rest. Donnor could hear Oldsby giving orders, and he was glad he’d recovered, remembering the sword he’d taken to his gut.

Good man that one; steady in a fight.

He’d found out after the battle that Ari and Tommy had woken up just after it started, and done something he still didn’t completely understand. And he probably never would. But understanding what they had done wasn’t as important as the result: they’d healed every single last one of the wounded. The two of them had slept for three days after their feat, but whatever they had done allowed the men to enter the battle. Fresh.

Oldsby had gathered the newly recovered men in the common room and armed them with the weapons which had been kept there. Then he took command, waiting until his force was complete, before forming them up in front of the inn. And at a pivotal moment, he charged the enemy with fresh troops, the onslaught catching the enemy completely by surprise.

And devastating them.

The fresh formation continued to push as Laren and Immer took command of the archers. They used mass fire, preventing the enemy from escaping around the flanks, keeping them pinned in front of the spears with nowhere to go.

It suddenly became a ‘textbook’ engagement. After the immediate warriors were cleared from the village, the troop advanced out into the fields, continuing their slaughter. The will of the ondilaan eventually broke and they fled back into the forest, utterly defeated. And after the fields were emptied of the enemy, the defenders took up station around the inn and waited nervously for another attack.

But none came.

For two days they nervously waited before starting to move out and explore the wilderness around them. The Valen family led his archers out into the surrounding countryside, finding no sign of the ondilaan besides their clear tracks traveling away to the south. They followed them cautiously for a day before returning, reporting the enemy gone to the immense relief of everyone waiting breathlessly for their return.

Ari and Tommy had woken later that evening, and their waking had started a celebration that went on well into the next day. Unbeknownst to the two of them, they had become celebrities with their actions while they slept. Magic was rare in these lands, and healers were usually only available to lords who miserly guarded them for their personal use. The pure fact that they had used whatever they had to heal any and all, obviously suffering somehow in the process, was stunning to these simple people. And the people did everything they could to let them know how much it was appreciated.

Ari was beside herself with irritation in private, that everyone, every single person in Resthaven, now referred to her as “The Lady.” And she could not escape that title no matter how hard she tried. She eventually gave up, but it wasn’t a graceful admission of defeat by any means. She argued with any and all, at the drop of a hat, that no special treatment for her was either wanted or desired. She was especially irritated when Donnor wouldn’t order his men not to call her that either, no matter how much she insisted.

He chuckled remembering how she tried to use her feminine charms to get her way, her mouth hitting the floor when he still refused. It had taken almost everything he had not to give in to the strange pull he had for her, but he wasn’t going to jeopardize their growing bond. And when he refused to give in, hearing Saress mumble “I told you it wouldn’t work,” had made his day.

He got a nibble on his line, but whatever it was refused to be snagged so he brought it in and cast it out again.

Her irritation was probably a cover for the burden she unfairly took upon herself because of the dead. He looked across the stream to where the new burial grounds were at the thought. Though she had healed the wounded men that ultimately repelled the attack, she and Tommy were unconscious for the aftermath of the battle. And as a result, many who could have been saved had died. She’d wept long into the night as he held her when she discovered the number of dead, but nothing would change that they all would have died if she hadn’t done what she did.

Considering the force they faced, their losses were laughably light; but she would never accept that, and he loved her for it. In the end, the troop was down another eight dead, the rest being able to be saved after she and Tommy had awoken. Moran and Oldsby had lost nine. The villagers had nineteen dead who’d been under arms. And four entire families had been slaughtered that refused to leave their homes in the north, having been in the path of the main assault. Many who had fought in defense were disfigured or missing limbs that would affect them for the rest of their lives.

This paled in comparison to the number of enemy dead, and they’d stopped counting them once they reached seventy, though there were many, many more bodies to be counted after that. Some of the enemy dead had been crushed flat by the charge of the artocks, and more than one man vomited profusely as they were scraped up and thrown into the burning barn which had become their pyre.

After they had cleared the village of the enemy dead, even more ondilaani corpses were found by the archers as they scouted about, piled in a crude circle in the southern woods. They were smaller and had had their throats ripped out, their bodies arranged in a ritualistic manner, but no one was quite sure why.

Ari sauntered up from the village carrying a basket and blanket. “Can a girl have a picnic with her two men?” She smiled.

Gods, she was beautiful, he thought as she leaned down for a kiss, the sun shining through her cascading scarlet hair. His entire being tingled at the touch of their lips, and he wallowed shamelessly in the sensation as she giggled while he kissed her soundly. He was still getting used to the return of their old familiarity, and Tommy was too. He’d been worried, but Tommy just laughed as he watched them.

“Oh, that’s disgusting.”

Tommy hadn’t said anything when he and Ari started spending more time with one another, and Donnor was grateful for it. They hadn’t become intimate yet, and he wasn’t sure why. It just didn’t feel right. But they were definitely becoming close, that strange feeling pulling him towards her at almost every moment. And, he could swear he knew what she was thinking half the time. But there was no way; no man ever understood the workings of the female mind.

He’d had a long talk the day after Tommy had woken up about how he’d met Ari, and what she’d meant to him. That had been a hard conversation, during a day of funerals and remembrances for all those who’d been lost. Tommy had many questions, and he’d answered them as best he could.

They’d talked long into the night as he told Tommy all of the stories he remembered about Yella; how they’d met, and how their relationship came to be. They even sang one of the songs she used to hum, the one about the man’s return, and they both cried shamelessly as they remembered her.

Ari broke their smiling kiss and looked at Tommy with an impish twinkle in her emerald eyes, then leaned back into Donnor and kissed him some more. They both chuckled when Tommy let out a loud “Bleh” of complaint while pretending to retch. Donnor was amazed at how lucky he was to have found her again, and even more thankful she and Tommy had found each other. Their love meant the world to him, and the fact that they were forming almost a new family together filled his heart with joy.

Tommy brought in his line and got up to help Ari spread out the blanket when Donnor released her. She opened up the basket and passed out the food, then they ate companionably, talking about inconsequential things until the food was gone. Then, relaxing in each other’s company, they enjoyed the sun.

It’s good to see them putting on weight.

Donnor remembered how thin they both were when they’d first awoken. Skeletal was how Jarrod Tarr had described it, and it had been fascinating for Donnor to watch the deadly Saress hover over both of them like an expectant mother as she watched them both eat.

Ari tried her luck luring in the bird with some crumbs of bread while he remembered their recovery. It was amazing how close she could get the bird to come. She sang softly to it, and it ultimately deigned to take some of the crumbs directly from her open hand. After a while, the bird flew off, returning to hunting bugs while Ari continued humming her song.

After a bit, Tommy and Ari packed some things away. Then they started practicing their magic, a ball of flickering white light popping into existence between them. The ball of light started bouncing back and forth like they were passing a ball, but without using their hands. Hands they kept neatly folded on their laps while concentration creased their face.

Donnor still couldn’t quite get used to the sight of Tommy using magic, no matter how many times he’d seen it now. And it’d been ages since he’d seen magic being used so openly, or easily. He didn’t have any magic and never would, but they did. And he loved watching them explore it.

Damn, that’s weird to watch. He shook his head, turning away from the glowing ball of light and going back to the fish.

Another horn sounded, much closer this time, and a formation of men strode out of the eastern treeline, marching into view. At their front was a formation of the Redtail Guard, the sun sparkling off their armor and shields. They were being led by the banner of Redtail, which was escorted by a group of officers and their staff. Following behind the guard were two entire troops of conscripts, each following smartly along behind their own pennants as they looked about, taking in their surroundings.

The farmers in the fields stopped to watch their approach as they marched up to the bridge and stopped. Then a few men stepped out of formation and approached the guard at the bridge. They exchanged some initial words before a long conversation ensued. But Donnor noticed they were repeatedly pointing in his direction, and he resigned himself to the fact that his day off was probably over.

He brought in his line with a sigh and turned, noticing Saress approaching their picnic from the village with her hood back up, a sure sign she was on guard. He knew she was armed; she never went anywhere without being ready for battle as far as he knew, but she looked like someone casually out for a stroll, if you ignored the bow. She took up station behind Ari as he interrupted his ilari by touching her.

“Arisaylia, we’re about to have company.”

The ball of light winked out with his voice. She nodded in acknowledgement, and then again in greeting to Saress at her arrival. “Thank you, Ilari,” she said, meeting his eyes with a devastatingly impish smile.

“Behave, it’s probably somebody important,” he said with a laugh.

“Of course,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

A few minutes later, Commander Arnet of all people walked up in the company of an elite guard, with both Sergeants Moran and Oldsby in tow. Arnet took in the blanket and the picnic basket with a glance, stared at Saress for a time, who pointedly ignored him, then raised his eyebrow while meeting Donnor’s gaze.

Ari took that moment to interrupt, saying brightly, “Hello, Commander! We were just practicing. I hope you don’t mind if we continue?”

Almost immediately another globe of magical light popped into being in front of her, as she turned her devastating smile on him. “Tommy, let’s begin,” she said as she turned away, unseen mischief twinkling in her eyes. The ball of light started bouncing back and forth between them, with Ari admonishing Tommy not to hurt anyone again with everyone so close.

A wicked smile crossing her face as she said it.

Arnet stared at them utterly nonplussed for a moment, eyes tracking the glowing ball. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, obviously unnerved by their casual display of magic. Completely out of his element, he took in their magical picnic, totally oblivious that not a single thing could, or would, harm him. All to the silent amusement of the sergeants out of sight behind him, who’d been watching them practice their magic for days.

“What in the names of the lost gods are you doing here, peasant?” he demanded,

“Fishing. Want to join me?” Donnor asked with a grin, as he picked up his pole and pointed to the other.

Then he turned back to the stream and prepared to do battle with the fish once more.

Afterword

Hello again!

Thank you again for reading my novel. I hope the stories of Donnor, Arisaylia, Tommy, Mikus, Saress, and all of the other characters have kept you entertained. If they have, I’ve achieved my goal. Hopefully, it’s made enough of an impact that you’ll join me in the future as they travel further south, continuing their mission for Lord Maorilan.

And that’s all the teaser you’re going to get!

I want to take this chance to thank everyone who’s been involved in this project; as a project is what it’s been. First, I’d like to thank my wife and children for putting up with me as I disappeared into the computer for weeks at a time. Yes, my butt gets tired; and yes, I actually do get out of the chair from time to time.

Next, Jason, a published author who helped me figure out what to do with my story when it was raw. The man called someone he didn’t know from across the ocean, and guided me in what steps I needed to take to reach this point. And then, if that wasn’t enough, he introduced me to some of his fans who helped me even more. I can’t possibly convey how appreciative I am. I’m honored. Jason, Steven, Eric … thank you.

In no particular order, I’d like to thank everyone who beta read for me. Every single last one of you contributed to the story, no matter how little some of you think you did. They are Jodie B, Joseph P, Judy B, Jaron K, Linda K, Eric M, Izzy, Kaitlyn O, Deb L, Matt B, and Josh VM. Thank you all.

A special thanks to Tiffany Shand, my editor who was willing to answer my questions before she even saw the completed draft. And finally, Irene Zeleskou, who was able to take my words and descriptions, turning them into the amazing artwork that everyone can see. I’ve been blessed.

Please feel free to visit the Facebook page: Resthaven – The Book. It is for discussion of this book and the things surrounding it, and I’ll be adding updates as I write book 2. I’ve tried my best to update it as notable things occurred, so look there for any happenings. And, I’ll be linking it to my Goodreads page when I create one.

And finally, please leave a review on Amazon. I’m an independent author, and your reviews are important, telling me how I’ve done.

Thank you again, one and all,

Colin

Character List

I think pretty much everyone who plays a role in a story should have a name. But naming so many people leads to confusion since there are a ton of names. I realize this, and am including this list here for your reference.

Characters are arranged by where they appear in the story, geographically. And then, roughly in the order they appear.

Don’t read anything into their order, or people having one vs two names. I included some unnamed characters in the troop’s listing for completeness of the ranks.

Main

Mikus Gemhands: Dwarf, from Khagatom. Smith in Sirikii. Prospector for Clan Gemhands. Husband of Bekka, father of Dawd. Logger in Lakeside.

Donnor (Silverspear): Human, from Lakeside. Unknown origin. Smithy worker in Sirikii. Caravan leader in Sirikii. Father of Tommy. Husband of Yella. Fisherman in Lakeside.

Arisaylia (Ari) Saliantrea: Elf, from the Vale. Daughter of Na’Tor Saliantrea, Lord Wi’Jitikiin of Sirikii. Mother of Tommy and Di’ii. Betrothed to Alaris Farlesdar of Sirikii. Seamstress in Lakeside.

Tommy (Tomilanthus): Half-elf, from Lakeside. Son of Donnor and Arisaylia. Fisherman in Lakeside.

Lakeside

Bekka Gemhands: Dwarf, from Khagatom. Wife of Mikus.

Dawd Gemhands: Dwarf. Son of Mikus and Bekka.

Mrs. Sweetflour: Human from Lakeside.

Di’ii: Elf. Daughter of Arisaylia and Alaris.

Mrs. Ratlaf: Human from Lakeside. Baker.

Yella: Human from Lakeside. Wife of Donnor.

Mr. Geller: Human from Lakeside. Farmer.

Mr. Silvertongue: Human from Lakeside. Farmer.

Dira Greentree: Human from Lakeside. Housewife.

Faltor Greentree: Human from Lakeside. Son of Dira.

Sella: Human from Lakeside. Barmaid.

Mr. Hart: Human from Lakeside. Gargled medicine.

Lonny Tarbrook: Human from Lakeside.

Girl Tuulhod: Human from Lakeside.

Redtail Hold

Keris: Human from Redtail Hold. Guardsman.

Arnet: Human from Redtail Hold. Commander of the conscripts. Swordmaster.

Hortan: Human from Tatdavarr. Conscript.

Daris Sintletin: Halfling from Redtail Hold. Innkeeper.

Unris: Halfling from Redtail Hold. Works at the inn.

Jader: Gnome from Redtail Hold. Healer.

Sir Laigan: Human from Redtail Hold. Knight of the order of Pa’din. Captain of the Guard.

Pawdrig Maorilan: Human from Redtail Hold. Lord of Redtail Hold.

Master Girdly: Gnome from Redtail Hold. Head of Girdly Trading House. Merchant.

Hesia Durn: Human from Redtail Hold. Mage.

Pipit Brightleaf: Sprite from Spritehome.

Tintafel Alarion: Elf of Sirikii.

Saress Alarion: Half-elf from Sirikii. Elf/Askilat hybrid. Pathfinder. Ward of Tintafel.

Kored: Dwarf from Redtail Hold. Armorer.

Resthaven

Sergeant Garret Moran: Human Guardsman from Redtail Hold.

Sergeant Terrance Oldsby. Human from Redtail Hold.

Taylin Ilden. Human from Resthaven. Midwife.

Jarrod Tarr. Human from Resthaven. Innkeeper.

Martol Tarr. Human from Resthaven. Innkeeper's Son.

Pari. Human from Resthaven.

Hibold. Halfling from Resthaven. Cattle handler.

Rarton. Human from Resthaven. Smith.

Valen family. Humans from Resthaven. Tanners.

Walp Calz. Human from Resthaven. Logger.

Jaltol family. Gnomes from Resthaven.

The Vale

Na’Tor Saliantrea: Elf of Sirikii. Lord Wi’Jitikiin. Father of Arisaylia.

Lord Farlesdar: Elf of Sirikii. Lord Wi’Jitikiin.

Alaris Farlesdar: Elf of Sirikii. Son of Lord Farlesdar. Betrothed to Arisaylia. Father of Di’ii.

Falia: Elf of Sirikii. Maid to Arisaylia

Erella. Elf of the Vale. Pathfinder.

Salia. Elf of the Vale. Pathfinder.

Donnor’s Troop

Starting strength: 41: 23 spears, 12 bow + 6 admin

Ending Strength: 30: 14 spear, 10 bow + 6 admin

Admin

Donnor.

Ari.

Tommy.

Alarat: Gnome. Animal handler.

Camm: Gnome. Animal trainer.

Correts x2

Archers

Saress Alarion: Half-elf, Elf/Askilat hybrid.

Laren: Human.

Dap. Sprite.

Fald: Human.

Halfling from Redtail Hold.

Halfling from Redtail Hold.

Immer: Human.

Lari: Sprite.

Human from Redtail Hold.

Rast: Sprite.

Avad: Gnome.

Gorim: Gnome.

Mallan: Human.

First Rank

Mikus: Dwarf.

Tak: Halfling.

Karn: Dwarf.

Turred: Dwarf.

Folt: Halfling.

Nalin: Halfling.

Ladig: Gnome.

Merret: Gnome.

Dorn: Human.

Torrist: Human.

Human from Redtail Hold.

Second rank

Keris: Human.

Gart: Half Orc.

Beran: Human.

Paden: Human.

Haleran: Human.

Martok: Human. Leatherworker.

Talius: Human.

Hartok: Human.

Canner: Human.

Sollip: Human.

Human from Redtail Hold.

Human from Redtail Hold.

Pronunciation Guide

IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) pronunciation guide

I’m providing this guide to help the reader with pronouncing the various foreign languages seen here in this book. I decided to do this based on feedback and questions I received from my Beta Readers; mainly revolving around “how do you say that!?!”

I hope it helps.

An important note here for pronunciation: Race-specific languages will usually be written in italics. Otherwise, assume the words are in the common tongue. And a caveat: I’m not an expert in IPA. Please be generous and understanding of any mistakes I make here in attempting to use and convey words that I can hear in my head, into IPA format for you to try and understand.

Common Tongue:

The common tongue will be written as US English, with a few quirks. Most of those quirks revolve around the inclusion of UK spelling to some of the words. However, only two notable items regarding pronunciation stood out to me as I wrote this.

Two vowels of the same type together pronounce the short vowel sound of that letter, but extended or drawn out.

For example, “tuulhod” would be shown in IPA as “tŭ:l-hǒd” with the “u” sound drawn out.

An apostrophe when used in the common tongue denotes a distinct pause or breath in the pronunciation of a single word.

For example, Sir Laigan who is a knight of Pa’din. The word “Pa’din” is pronounced with two distinct syllables separated by the apostrophe: “pa” and “din”.

Elven / Elvish

An apostrophe denotes an extremely short pause or break in the pronunciation and sounding out of a single word, separating syllables within that single word.

An apostrophe in elvish does not denote a distinct break in pronunciation, or a breath, between two or more distinct and separate words. So, if you see a long string of characters with apostrophes thrown in, as long as there are no spaces in there, the entire thing is one, singular, elven word.

A vowel preceding an apostrophe is always pronounced with the long vowel sound.

So, “e’a” would be pronounced “EEE-ahh”

A “J” following an apostrophe produces the “ZH” sound, which is an uncommon sound in US English. The ZH sound is the same sound the “s” makes in the words “vision” or “measure”.

Unlike English, two vowels separated by a consonant does not automatically make the first vowel have a long vowel sound. As a rule of thumb, and forewarned that there are exceptions, the first vowel should be pronounced with the short vowel sound in these instances. The vowel following the consonant in this instance is also typically not silent.

Therefore, an elf would pronounce the English word “ate” as ‘ah-teh’; or, “bacon” as ‘bah-kon’.

When there are two vowels together, the first vowel is pronounced with the long vowel sound while the second with the short vowel sound.

Therefore, an elf would pronounce the English word “team” as ‘tee-am’.

An “I” followed by another vowel always causes the “I” to be pronounced with a long “E” sound.

For example, an elf would pronounce the English word “lariat” as ‘lahr-ee-aht’.

Two I’s together (ii) produce a single long “E” sound.

So, hypothetically, you could spell the English word “free” as ‘frii’ in elven to produce the same sounds.

A “Y” immediately following a vowel always signifies that the preceding vowel is pronounced with its long vowel sound. Then, the “Y” itself is silent.

So, you could also hypothetically spell the English word “free” as ‘frey’ in elven to get the same pronunciation.

The English word “blight” could hypothetically be spelled ‘bliyt’ in elven to generate the same pronunciation.

A “Y” between two consonants is typically pronounced with the short “I” sound.

You could spell “bit” or “mit” as “byt” or “myt” in elvish to generate the same pronunciation.

A “W” between two vowels is typically considered silent.

However, elves have keener hearing than you or I, and there is a sound associated with a “W” that we cannot hear. Again, I want to stress that this sound is not able to be heard by most listeners who do not have an elf’s acute hearing.

Elves pronounce and hear a “trill” or a “rolling sound” similar to how the letter “R” is rolled on the roof of the mouth in certain situations with Spanish pronunciation.

A “Y” is considered a vowel when following this rule.

Two “L’s” together make a single “L” sound, and the sound is drawn out longer than with a single letter.

It is produced by the tongue sliding along the roof of the mouth from the soft to hard palates. However, emphasis is not automatically placed on the longer sound.

In IPA shorthand, this is depicted as a colon after the L, i.e., “l:” or “L:”, similar to how elongated vowels are depicted.

Examples of elven and their IPA pronunciation:

Di’ii………………..: Dī-ē

Arisaylia………….: Ār-ǝ-sā-lēă

Tomilanthus……..: tǒm-ǐ-lăn-θŭs

Sirikii……………..: sǝ-rē-kē

Wi’Jitikiin………..: wǝ-ʒĭ-tĭ-kēn

Awyrllyn………….: Ā❬r❭-l:ĭn

Nisa……………….: Nē-sǝ 

Saliantrea………..: Săl-ē-ăn-trēǝ

Ilari………………..: Ĭ-lăr-ē

Tairi……………….: Tā-ĭrē

Dwarven

Dwarvish in my mind reminds me of German, Austrian, and Eastern European languages in its very glottal and ‘back of the throat’ pronunciation of some of the words in comparison to my US English. And before anyone gets upset, I have Eastern European roots and this is not a criticism of those countries or languages. The dwarvish words are pronounced as they are as written, just with that extra ‘back of the throat sound’ thrown in for good measure.

For example, Mikus (MY-cuss) comes originally from Khagatom, the kingdom of the dwarves. Khagatom is pronounced basically like it looks as ‘kag-ah-tome’. But there’s an extra guttural sound associated with the “G” in the word.

Kăg-ǝ-toʊm

Unfortunately for all of the fans of dwarves out there, there’s not a lot of dwarvish in this book. There may be in future books, but not in this one. And, there’s only one sentence in dwarvish in the entire novel, where Mikus says: “…Ak tom gar turak, Di’ii. Marr ken Drob tonn…” To break down this sentence into IPA, it would look something like this.

Ak………………: Ăk

Tom……………: Tŏm

Gar……………..: Găr

Turak      ………..: Tu:-răk

Marr……………: Măr

Ken…………….: Kǝn

Drob……………: Drŏb

Tonn……………: Tŏn

A note on Mikus’s speech: Mikus speaks in a very idiosyncratic way, often cutting off and/or slurring words together. This is due to the thick brogue of the Khagatom dwarves which carries over into the common tongue. The many misspelled words and strange apostrophe placements are an attempt to depict this unique dialect.

In most instances, the apostrophe indicates dropped letters and where the word is shortened and slurred into the next as he speaks. Examples of this are throughout the story, but an extreme example of this type of depiction would be the Redtail Armorer’s slurring of “Aye’me’laird,” (Aye, my Lord) and “Ge’over’thar” (Get over there).

Final Thought

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