“Oh where, oh where has my wondering heart gone?


    It has run away from me


    Without apology


    To nestle in the breast of a fair maiden, no less,


    With eyes as blue as the sea.


    Oh where, oh where has my wondering heart gone?


    I search hither and yon


    Yet I am left, forlorn


    With but the memory of a fair maiden’s kiss,


    And all I can do is mourn.


    Oh where, oh where has my wondering heart gone?


    And will it ever return


    Or am I doomed to yearn?


    For her sweet embrace, for her lips, her face,


    All others I now doth spurn.”


    Giordi’s voice carried across their party, his lute in his hands, singing mournfully to himself even as he rode on Zeke. He trusted the sturdy horse to follow where the others led and risked not holding on so he could play and sing whenever the mood took him.


    “Not another melody about your broken heart and lost love.” Verne muttered on the back of a chestnut mare with white socks on her long legs and bright eyes.


    “Hey, while he’s singing about that, he’s not singing about me.” Judd chastened his archer. “I’ll take anything over the ‘ballad of Judd LaMogre’.”


    “I did come up with another verse!” Giordi crowed. “Want to hear it!”


    Judd groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Suvau nudged his horse, a hefty black gelding with a slightly curly mane and tail and a lopsided white star on its forehead, alongside Xenon. The gelding was the only mount Judd had ever known to be bigger than Xenon but that was because Artur was a Clydesdale, a large horse used primary for pulling ploughs. On anything smaller, Suvau would have looked ridiculous and he was wary of straining a horse’s back. However, Judd was willing to concede to Suvau towering over him on his mount for he knew that Xenon could outpace and outlast any of them and for all Artur’s bulky intimidation, he was a very docile horse.


    “You’re going to have to get used to the ‘ballad of Judd LaMogre’ when you receive your knighthood.”


    “You know, when I was young, I dreamed about minstrels singing songs of my daring deeds and grand battles,” Judd glanced back at Giordi who was strumming and humming to himself, “now I wonder…what was I thinking?”


    “That heroes are better held up as unattainable, unknowable figments of grandeur?” Suvau chuckled and Artur bobbed its head as if laughing with the big man. “Don’t begrudge Giordi’s songs about you for there will be little boys playing heroes and knights with wooden swords, listening to those words and dreaming of becoming someone just like you.”


    Judd smiled. “I do like the idea of inspiring others…perhaps I need to remind myself of that more often.”


    The sun was bright and joyful and the air, while not hot, was pleasant. It was a far cry from the chilled ground, grey skies and threatening weather of the south but that was what happened when one travelled north steadily for two weeks, allowing for the crossover from west to east. They had used the same path through the forest that they had when Judd had killed the cockatrice, not long after Giordi had joined their party. Emerging on the other side they made a distinct northward shift in direction but still headed east for Fort Bastil.


    Judd had not intended to go into the fort, preferring to spend a night with the farmers, see how Oster Agress was and to thank him for the armour that had saved him many times. However, Sir Alaykin had been made aware of Judd’s arrival and insisted on inviting him to dine with them which Judd conceded to. Sword master Dalain Thiery was there and it was hard for Judd to recall that he was not the inexperienced novice who had beaten the bully through stubbornness and Oster Agress’ skilful direction. However, whether Sir Alaykin had words with Dalain or the sword master was intimidated by Judd, he barely spoke to him and did not challenge Judd to another duel.


    For that Judd was extremely thankful.


    Not that he didn’t think he could best Dalain now.


    But he was feeling somewhat weary after all that they had endured and looked forward to a quiet evening. Judd was grieved to hear that Alaykin’s wife had died after giving birth but was pleased to see the knight presented his baby daughter with as much pride and pleasure as Sir Donimede had done with his son. Alaykin’s eyes were filled with wonder for his daughter and Judd raised a glass and toasted her health and beauty.


    “Judd,” he jolted, broken out of his reverie as Verne trotted alongside him on Shela who was sprightly and almost daring in her approach, “if I’m any judge of distance, if we push hard, we’ll reach Aalis’ village by nightfall.”


    Judd clucked his tongue and looked at the sky. “Everyone,” he called, “we’re eating on horseback.”


    “I will do my best.” Aalis said, going through her pack, tearing pieces of bread and cheese from larger chunks and handing them out to everyone. She was astride a dappled grey horse with long black eyelashes and a fine head.


    Aalis had surprised them all in Fort Bastil when she revealed her small fortune and set about finding everyone a mount to ride. She would have purchased from the nomads but they had no use for Astaril gold for there was little that the Terras had that they wanted and that which they did, was traded for with horses they captured on the steppelands and prairies. Caste and Giordi were given Quell and Zeke as mounts, Caste needing something docile and Giordi, happy to have a horse that followed others without much nudging from himself. Artur was spotted in the fields, the owner happy to give him up when he saw the flash of gold. Shela was from the stables of Sir Alaykin as well as Aalis’ mount, Liada. There was a sturdy horse just for carrying the tent Chief Elk and Bear had insisted they take and Caste’s pack which was by far the heaviest out of anything they had to transport.


    As a convoy, they were a rather intimidating, if a little mismatched, sight.


    Judd accepted his bread and cheese from Aalis, trying not to meet her gaze, knowing their time together was drawing all too quickly to a close.


    They had ended up spending two nights at Fort Bastil before heading for Fort Faine. Judd was not sure if Sir Jesa remembered that he had once threatened him or if was no longer willing to follow through on the threat as the knight was welcoming enough. His cleric, O’Dear, even rounder than before, seemed inclined to question Caste to death over supper. To Judd’s relief, the farmers who had felt the need to flee because their orchards were dying, had been treated well and Sir Jesa had kept his promise. Aalis checked the trees in the orchard and pronounced that they were a great deal healthier and predicted a fine harvest to come.


    Claud and Kurst welcomed Verne back, asking him what his journey had been like and the things he had seen and was any or all the rumours they had heard, true?


    They spent two nights there, Judd reluctant to leave. He knew, once they did so, the final stop his journey’s end would be the nameless village he had found Aalis in. Or had she found him?


    They still needed to camp outdoors but with the tent of the nomads sheltering them, able to keep out the frigid weather of the south let alone the weak chill of the north, camping was a great deal more pleasant than it used to be.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    As much as Judd wanted his journey to be over, and there was no stopping the march of time or the steady pace of their mounts, he didn’t want to reach the forest he could see at the base of the northern mountains.


    Part of him wanted to insist on camping one more night before getting there.


    The other part, wounded and wistful, knew that everyone would know why he paused.


    So he pressed on as if his heart wasn’t in danger of tearing in two.


    As they took the narrow paths between high crests of thick heather, riding in single file with Suvau bringing up the rear, the line of the trees broke apart, revealing the clearing the village had been built into.


    It hadn’t changed at all. There was still clothing hanging from lines stretched between the mud brick houses with thatched rooves and manure on the ground from livestock that roamed freely. There were still children who ran around bare foot, playing contentedly before catching sight of the rather intimidating entourage.


    “Father!” Anto cried. “Father, father! It’s Judd LaMogre!”


    Judd swung himself out of the saddle and stepped forward to greet the surge of children who crowded around him, talking over the top of each other, each with something desperately important and loud to say. He chuckled and ruffled their hair.


    “Judd LaMogre! You took my advice!” Anto beamed. “You didn’t get dead!”


    Judd laughed. “It was good advice.”


    “LaMogre!” A barrel chest man came forward, familiar though it felt like a lifetime ago that he had seen him. “Well met, legend of Terra!”


    “Klin, how are you?” Judd was pulled into a firm, hard embrace.


    “We are all well,” Klin looked around, “did you bring our Aalis back to us?”


    Judd went to reply but Aalis was already pushing to the forefront. “Klin!”


    “Aalis, my girl!” He bellowed and hugged her. “Look at you, Terra travelled and not a scratch.”


    “Maybe one or two.” She smiled. “Anto, look how much you have grown!” She moved into the midst of all the children, talking with them, none afraid of her dreadlocks or not so ‘normal’ appearance. Judd’s heart ached when he saw just how at home she was in the village, the rest of the adults coming forward to greet her.


    “Look at you, LaMogre,” Klin slapped his arm, “barely the clothes on the back when you set out and a broken sword if memory serves…and now see your entourage!”


    “Yes, I hope it’s alright if we stay the night before heading to Astaril?”


    “The legend of Terra in our village! We’ll never let that story die!” Klin waved them forward. “I see you did not lose your little cleric, either.”


    “Caste Undern, you remember Klin?”


    “Of course.” Caste said tersely.


    “This is Verne, an archer and warrior,” Judd introduced them all, “this is Giordi, a minstrel who is quite handy with a bow these days and this is…”


    “Whoa…” The children gasped as Suvau walked into view, leading Artur rather than ride him, knowing he was an intimidating sight even when not on the back of a large horse.


    “Is…is that…a Maul?” Klin whispered, his arm outstretched as if to protect the children.


    “This is Suvau,” Judd explained, “a friend and the very best of men.”


    Suvau bowed to Klin who was stunned by his presence. Judd couldn’t blame him. Mauls were contained to the south. To children in Astaril, they were the stuff of scary stories, told of like monsters to keep them in bed at night. The village children were wide eyed and gobsmacked. Aalis eased her way out of their cluster, lowered Klin’s protective arm and took Suvau’s hand, drawing him into the village.


    “This is my friend, Suvau.” She announced firmly.


    Suvau squatted down, reducing his great height. “Hello children.” He said gently.


    One little girl, with more gaps in her mouth than teeth, gazed at him in wonder.


    “Do you not like baths?” Suvau tried not to smile. “I don’t!”


    He chuckled then held out his hand. “I am not dirty. This is my colour.”


    “Whoa…” Anto touched his skin lightly. “Are you from Maul?”


    Caste swallowed and shuffled his feet.


    “I was born in Fort Omra.” Suvau told them. “I have a wife and my daughter is about…your age.” He pointed to a young woman with messy blonde hair.


    “Well,” Klin swallowed, “any friend of Judd LaMogre’s is a friend of ours. Please, come,” he urged them forward, “though, there are so many of you. I am not sure where I can put you all that honours your station.”


    “We have a tent and we have supplies to share.”


    “And we have cider,” Klin nudged him, “brewed by myself. We shall drink to your health and your knighthood! Come!”


    The village, though hardly affluent, did not hold back in its celebration. Judd was reminded strongly of the first night he had spent there, when Klin had delayed his departure for the forest to kill the witch by putting meat on a spit and celebrating his presence. Then he had only had Caste for company and in all honesty, to which he knew the cleric would confirm, he hadn’t been the best of companions.


    Giordi played his lute and sang, the villagers dancing merrily about, the children skipping and laughing, taking turns to stare at the nomad tent which baffled their young minds and ignited their curiosity. Through the evening, Judd was prevailed upon to tell of many of his adventures, some of which he begged for Giordi to tell instead yet found the children were delighted when he simply sat on a log and told them the stories himself. Suvau was careful not to encroach, knowing he was an unknown element, a dark skinned man of Maul and a little frightening at times. He watched the festivities from the sidelines yet, probably at Aalis’ urging, was always offered something to eat and drink. Caste was doing what Caste did best, sitting at the edge of the firelight, book in one hand and some cider in the other. Verne leaned against a tree, long legs stretched out, watching the dancing with a smile and Aalis skipped and danced around the fire with the children until she was breathless and begged for a reprieve, her hands clutching at her breast, her dreadlocks loose and not hidden away.


    “As a location,” Giordi said, sitting beside Judd causing him to realise he was staring at Aalis and looked away, “it’s not the most auspicious of villages for your knighthood quest to have begun in.”


    “Maybe not auspicious but memorable.” Judd huffed. “I ran from here, blinded with fear from Aalis’ forest tunnel of terror.”


    “Yes but I can hardly put that in a song, can I?”


    “Because it’s not heroic enough?”


    “Because it talks about a witch you went to kill and did not.” Giordi pointed out. “I mean I can’t really sing, Judd went to kill the witch, ran in fear until he got a stitch but when he discovered her ruse, went up against an ogre and did not lose…then by her face was bewitched.”


    “I never believed she was a witch,” Judd argued, “and I am not bewitched.”


    “Yes you are. We all know it.”


    “Yeah, I know.” Judd hung his head. “Giordi…what am I going to do? She won’t come with me. She maintains that we made a vow, that she would help me do that which I needed to, to become a knight then I had to bring her back here.”


    Giordi sat up. “Well, problem solved!”


    Judd raised his eyebrows. “How?”


    “The vow has been fulfilled.” Giordi nudged him. “Aalis is back in her village.”


    “Where she intends to stay!”


    “But what if she doesn’t? What if she’s just testing you to see if you will hold true to your word?” Giordi nodded at Judd who frowned. “I mean, I don’t know at all for certain…”


    “But I suppose it is possible…” Judd whispered.


    “What’s possible?” Verne joined them, sitting on an upright log.


    “Oh…Judd’s knighthood.” Giordi fudged the topic over.


    “That’s not possible. That’s imminent.” Verne corrected. “Although, don’t you have one last thing on that list?”


    “Yes, yes,” Judd sat up, “I need to kill a witch.”


    “But you’re not going to.”


    “I don’t think she is one!” Judd argued.


    Verne gave Giordi a look and rolled his eyes. Giordi nodded towards Caste and they glanced at him, reading and ignoring everyone around him.


    “He makes his presence known by making it known that he doesn’t want to be present.” Giordi chortled.


    “You know, for all Caste’s irritations, and I’ll admit there are a few,” Judd sighed, “I put him through a great deal.”


    “No more than the rest of us.” Giordi shrugged.


    “Yes but the rest of us didn’t have his strict knowledge and dos and don’ts base.” Verne pointed out.


    “True…isn’t it liberating?”


    “What I mean is,” Judd took a roasted apple on a stick offered from Anto, Verne and Giordi accepting one each as well from the beaming boy, “in Fort Mavour, even though everyone kept harping on how I had slain the minotaur, the last monster on my list…he never piped up and corrected them even though he knew it wasn’t true.”


    Giordi stopped before taking a bite while Verne chewed slowly. “And that’s a virtue?”


    “He wouldn’t have hesitated to correct me when we first started out.”


    “You think he came to trust and respect you? Or he just gave up trying?”


    “I’d like to think he came to trust me,” Judd sighed, “not sure he does anymore…not after I practically threatened him to get the blueprints of Mavour.”


    “Trust goes both ways.” Suvau said, coming up from behind them, having overheard much of their conversation, hunkering down in their midst. “You trusted Caste not to give up what you were planning.”


    “But was it trust or obligation…or fear…”


    “That’s up to him to work out.” Suvau’s voice was firm but gentle. “All of us have to take responsibility for our part to play in the world. We each have decisions to make that affect those around us. For my part,” he clapped a heavy hand on Judd’s shoulder, “I am pleased your journey brought us together. Not only did you save my life and then my family’s, but you saved all those weary and beaten souls in Mavour.”


    “A song of liberation I can never sing.” Giordi lamented lightly.


    “One day I hope you can.” Judd looked at Suvau. “I promise I will get you back to your family.”


    “They understood my conviction to stand by my word.” Suvau rumbled then yawned which set off all of them. “Forgive me. Too much cider and good food.”


    “I’m beat too.” Verne announced, standing up. “Aalis?” She heard her name and ducked through the ring of playing children, her cheeks flushed and her eyes as bright as stars. “Where are you camping tonight?”


    “In the tent, naturally.” She smiled, making sure not to look at Judd. “It would seem wrong not to do so after all we have been through.”


    “I’ll lay out your bedroll then.” Verne saluted and headed off with Suvau, Caste seeing an appropriate time to abandon the festivities chasing after them.


    “I’ll play a ditty then to bed I shall go a-swiftly…” Giordi yawned. “That was a terribly rhyme.”


    “You make them all the time.” Judd chuckled.


    “Have you drunk too much wine?” Aalis added.


    “Have you tasted the roasted apples?” Judd kissed his fingertips. “Sublime!”


    “Or is it past your bedtime?”


    “Enough!” Giordi laughed and stood up. “This pantomime of mealtime showtime is tantamount to committing a crime. So I shall resign for I am past my prime and into bed I will climb.” As he walked away, he began to strum a ditty and the children gathered around him, eager to hear his next song. Judd looked up at Aalis, now the only two left out of the group. She tucked a dreadlock back behind her ear and smiled awkwardly.


    “I should probably go to bed as well.” He said, standing up. “The last leg of the journey starts tomorrow.”


    “Yes, it does. Goodnight, then.” Aalis said, almost bobbing in a curtsey. Judd gave a slight bow in return and retreated to the tent.